Chanukah

Chief Rabbi Lord Sacks The phrase that, for many, best epitomizes our time is 'the clash of civilizations.' That according to Professors Bernard Lewis of Princeton and Samuel Huntington of Harvard, is what we face in the twenty first century as the West is challenged by other cultures, among them China, India and the nations of Islam. But the first great clash of civilizations happened over two thousand years ago in the events we commemorate in the festival of Chanukah. That was when ancient Greece and ancient Israel met and came into head-on conflict. The Greeks of antiquity, especially those of the city state of Athens, produced some of the finest achievements of the human mind: philosophers like Socrates, Plato and Aristotle, dramatists like Aeschylus and Sophocles, the historians Herodotus and Thucydides, statesmen like Pericles and imperishable works of art and architecture. It was also the birthplace of democracy. In the fourth century BCE it came under the rule of Alexander of Macedon, who eventually extended his empire over most of the known world at that time. After his death, the Alexandrian empire eventually split into three, the Antigonids in Greece, the Ptolemies in Egypt and the Seleucids in Syria. In the third century BCE Israel came under the Ptolemies and in the second under the Seleucids, one of whose rulers, Antiochus IV, bore the modest title 'Epiphanes' ("G-d made manifest'). Antiochus instituted a campaign against the public practice of Judaism. In the words of the book of Maccabees he attempted 'to force the Jews to abandon the customs of their ancestors and live no longer by the laws of God; also to profane the temple in Jerusalem and dedicate it to Olympian Zeus.' The Maccabees, inspired by Matityahu and his son Judah, rose in revolt, and won a historic victory, bringing Jerusalem back under Jewish control and enabling the faithful to cleanse the Temple and relight the Menorah, symbol of the eternal flame of Jewish faith. It was an event of world-historical significance: the beginning of the end of Greece as a world power. What made Greece fall and Judaism survive? Lord Acton, the great 19th century historian, wrote this about ancient Athens: 'The philosophy that was then in the ascendant taught them that there is no law superior to that of the state -- the lawgiver is above the law. It followed that the sovereign people had a right to do whatever was within its power, and was bound by no rule of right or wrong but its own judgment of 1

expediency.' Ancient Israel, by contrast, was 'founded, not on physical force, but on a voluntary covenant.' The free society, according to Lord Acton, was born not in Athens but in Jerusalem. Democracy, the rule of the majority, can result in the oppression of a minority. Freedom needs something else: the recognition of the non-negotiable dignity of human beings, and the moral limits of human power under the sovereignty of God. That remains an essential message in these tense and troubled times. Those who seek, by force, to impose their will on others will eventually fail, as did the Greeks. Judaic freedom, whose symbol is the menorah, is born in respect for the human individual as the image of God.

The Real Victory of Chanukah Chief Rabbi Lord Sacks There is a law about Chanukah that I find moving and profound. Maimonides writes that the command of Chanukah lights is very precious. One who lacks the money to buy lights should sell something, or if necessary borrow, so as to be able to fulfil the mitzvah1. The question then arises, What if, on Friday afternoon, you find yourself with only one candle? What do you light it as a Shabbat candle or a Chanukah one? It cant be both. Logic suggests that you should light it as a Chanukah candle. After all, there is no law that you have to sell or borrow to light lights for Shabbat. Yet the law is that, if faced with such a choice, you light it as a Shabbat light. Why? Here is how Maimonides puts it: The Shabbat light takes priority because it symbolises shalom bayit, domestic peace. And great is peace because the entire Torah was given in order to make peace in the world2. Consider: Chanukah commemorates the greatest military victory in Jewish history in ancient times. The battle of the Maccabees against the Greeks is recorded not only in Jewish sources but in ancient non-Jewish histories as well. It was an event of world changing significance. It marked the beginning of the end of the Alexandrian empire. It ceased to be the global superpower, and thereafter, world history would be dominated by the Romans, not the Greeks. Yet Jewish law rules that if we are faced with a choice if we can only light one candle the Shabbat light takes precedence, because in Judaism the greatest military victory takes second place to peace in the home. And if we seek to understand the survival of Jews and Judaism from the days of Abraham to today, we should focus on this law. The Greeks were intellectual and artistic giants. They excelled at art, architecture, drama, philosophy and poetry. The Athens of Plato and Aristotle, Aeschylus and Sophocles was a highpoint of civilization. The empire of Alexander, one of Aristotles pupils, was vast. The entire constellation of Greek achievements must have seemed impregnable, immortal. Yet after only a few centuries it lost its power, and a few centuries later, lost its influence as well. Why did Judaism, alone among the civilizations of the ancient world, survive? I believe it was because it valued the home more than the battlefield, marriage more than military

Rabbi Moses ben Maimon (1135-1204), known by the acronym Rambam was a great philosopher and codifier of Jewish law. See his Mishneh Torah, Hilchot Chanukah, 4:12 for the idea cited here.

Ibid 4:14

grandeur, schools more than monumental architecture, and children more than generals. Peace in the home mattered to our ancestors more than the greatest military victory. So as we celebrate Chanukah, the victory of the Jews against the Greeks, spare a thought for the real victory, which was not military but spiritual. Jews were the people who valued marriage, the home, and peace between husband and wife, above the highest glory on the battlefield. In Judaism, the light of peace takes precedence over the light of war.

Chanukah: Making Light With What Remains

Chief Rabbi Lord Sacks The Israeli violinist Yitzhak Perlman contracted polio at the age of 4. Ever since, he has had to wear metal braces on his legs and walk with crutches, yet he became one of the great virtuosi of our time. On one occasion, the story is told; he came out onto the stage at a concert to play a violin concerto. Laying down his crutches, he placed the violin under his chin and began tuning the instrument when, with an audible crack, one of the strings broke. The audience were expecting him to send for another string, but instead he signalled the conductor to begin, and he proceeded to play the concerto entirely on three strings. At the end of the performance the audience gave him a standing ovation and called on him to speak. What he said, so the story goes, was this: Our task is to make music with what remains. That was a comment on more than a broken violin string. It was a comment on his paralysis and on all that is broken in life. That, it seems to me, is an extraordinarily powerful way of understanding the story of Chanukah. On the face of it, Chanukah is about many things. It recalls the stunning military victory of the Maccabees against the Seleucid-Syrian branch of the Alexandrian empire, which restored Israels independence. It marks one of Jewrys most decisive cultural battles against assimilation and Hellenisation. It brought about the return of Jerusalem to Jewish hands and the rededication of the Temple after its pagan desecration. Each one of these events would have been enough to secure for Chanukah a lasting place in Jewish history. Yet what has remained engraved in Jewish memory is something else altogether: the story of the single cruse of oil, found undefiled amid the wreckage of the Sanctuary, that burned for eight days while new oil could be prepared for the Temple menorah. Jews responded almost exactly as did Yitzhak Perlman, by in effect saying: Our task is to make light with what remains. Jewish history has been etched all too often with pain, persecution, suffering and defeat. Yet somehow Jews have always found the inner strength to rededicate themselves Chanukah means dedication to the task of life. As I light the menorah, I will be thinking of what it symbolizes in terms of the Jewish spirit. I will think of what a privilege it is to be part of a people who, instead of cursing the darkness, taught us how to light a candle of hope.

Chanukah: A Clash between Greek and Jewish Values?

by Dr Irene Polinskaya, Fellow in Greek history at Kings College London and member of South Hampstead United Synagogue The story of Chanukah is often simplified as a failed attempt of a cruel Greek power to force the Jews into abominable pagan practice. Such a crudely polarized account, in historical terms, overlooks the degree of amicable contemporary interaction between Jewish and Greek-speaking communities of the Eastern Mediterranean in the 2nd century BC, and downplays the challenges faced by those Jews who wanted to uphold their ancestral adherence to the law of Moses. The latter faced as many challenges from within Jewish circles as from the outside. To understand the meaning of political conflicts and religious struggles that underlie the story of Chanukah we must look back to the times of Alexanders conquest of the Near East in the last third of the 4th century BC and forward to the progressive Roman subjugation of the Mediterranean and the Near East from the early 2nd century BC onwards. The Hellenistic Age (323-31 BC) The events of the Maccabean revolt (167-165) and the rededication (chanukah dedication) of the Jerusalem temple (165 BC) fall squarely in the middle of a historical period called Hellenistic (323-31 BC). The Hellenistic (=Greek) period began with the conquest of Asia by the Macedonian king Alexander the Great (331-323 BC). His conquest and the creation of the Macedonian empire in place of the former Persian empire led to the gradual spread of Greek language and culture throughout Asia Minor, Near East, Mesopotamia, and Egypt. A few hundred years earlier, in the 6th century BC, Cyrus the Great (ca. 580-530 BC), defeated the Assyrians, took over and extended their possessions and established the Achaemenid Persian empire, in the process allowing the Jews to return from their Babylonian exile to Judea. Since that time, Judea was but a tiny part of the enormous multi-ethnic Persian domain and given to self-government except for the payment of tribute to the Great King. The latter ruled through local satraps who were responsible for collecting taxes and making sure the indigenous populace in their charge kept calm. Alexanders policies in most regions of the Persian Empire, especially those that submitted to him peacefully, was to retain the old manner of administration, granting ancestral privileges and enforcing taxation. These grants applied to religious observance as well as to social organization, and it appears that under Alexander Jews were allowed to continue their traditional worship. Judea received the status of an independent tribal group, ethnos, on par with Idumeans, Gazeans, and Azotians. The arrival of Macedonians brought the establishment of military garrisons, forts (e.g., at Shikmona, Ein-Gev, Joppa, Beersheba, Tell Malhata, Arad), and colonies of retired 6

veterans, as well as the foundation of new cities (e.g., Philoteria) in Judea, the neighboring regions of Coele-Syria, Phoenicia, and Samaria to the north, and Idumea to the south. Hellenistic styles of construction were quickly adopted in Judea in the designs of domestic and funerary architecture. As a result of Greco-Persian interaction in the Eastern Mediterranean, Judea has been exposed to the Greek material culture (pottery, terracottas and other luxury items) and the sight of Greek mercenaries in the service of the Persians for some 150 years before the Macedonian conquest. Thus, Jewish acquaintance with the Greek culture began as part of a natural economic and diplomatic intercourse between peoples in the region. The Persian empire conquered by Alexander the Great did not maintain its unity after Alexanders death: 20 years on, the empire was divided into smaller kingdoms by Alexanders former generals who had fought bitterly each for ones own territorial domain. Egypt fell to the lot of Ptolemy I Soter, who established the Ptolemaic dynasty. Asia Minor, Syria and Mesopotamia fell to Seleucus I Nicator and his descendants, the Seleucids. A wider context: Jewish Diaspora in Persia, Near East, Egypt (6th - 3nd centuries BC) Jewish residence was not limited to the small region of Judea in the Persian and Hellenistic periods, and Jewish interaction with non-Jews in the diaspora was a matter of daily life for some centuries prior to the Hellenistic period. Not all Jews returned from the Babylonian exile: some still remained in Persia after the time of Ezra (ca. 458 BC). Other Jews prospered in the bustling coastal cities of Phoenicia - Byblos, Tyre, and Sidon. There was also a considerable Jewish minority in Egypt since the Persian times, which initiated its own local center of worship, traces of which have been identified at the site of Elephantine in the Upper Nile. The temple at Elephantine functioned as early as the 6th century but declined by ca. 350 BC. At the time of Ptolemy I, tens of thousands of Jews were either forced into relocation from Judea or moved to Egypt of their own will. In addition, Jewish soldiers served in both Ptolemaic and Seleucid armies throughout the Hellenistic period. It should also be noted that in the early Hellenistic period (prior to the Maccabean revolt), Gentile writers (e.g., Clearchus of Soli, Megasthenes, Hecateus of Abdera, Theophrastus) formed a paradoxical conception of the Jews as true Greeks and a nation of philosophers, and held Jewish monotheism in high esteem as an advanced form of life philosophy. It is easy to see how such genuine admiration could flatter Jewish intellectuals in the diaspora and dispose them favorably towards Greek learning and culture. 100 years of peace: Jews Under the Ptolemies of Egypt (ca. 300 - ca. 200 BC) For about 100 years, from ca. 301 to ca. 200 BC, Judea was under the control of the Ptolemaic Egypt. Ptolemies approach to the government of their extensive realm was to centralize administration and to place every manner of production in the purview of the king, encouraging productivity and prosperity. The economy of Judea and her population benefited from this economic upturn. We learn of a certain Jewish magnate Tobias, 7

brother-in-law of the high priest Onias II, who resided in Transjordan, commanding a Ptolemaic garrison and controlling much of the spice trade with Arabia. He is an example of a prospering self-assertive Jewish cooperation with the Ptolemaic administration. The son of this Tobias, Joseph, later successfully negotiated Judeas position vis--vis the Ptolemaic court and was granted leave to farm taxes in Syria and Phoenicia. Figures like Tobias and Joseph represented the view of Jewish Hellenists who saw an interaction with the Hellenistic economic, political, and cultural milieu as beneficial to the Jewish ethnos. Wealth that stemmed from such interaction was therefore condemned by Jewish anti-Hellenists as sinful, and poverty, in their view, came to be equated with piety. We would later see this attitude among the Qumran sectarians. The Seleucids and their Roman Ideas: a Maccabean Response The times of peaceful collaboration with the Hellenistic world came to an end for Judea ca. 200 BC with the change of political control from Egypt to Syria. In a broader sense, they were framed by the rise in the West of a new world power Rome. After the Carthaginian defeat in the 2nd Punic War (218-202), Rome turned her attention to the Eastern Mediterranean, advancing against Philip V of Macedon who had conspired with Hannibal, and then against the Seleucid king Antiochus III, who was defeated in 190BC at the Battle of Magnesia. The Peace of Apamea in 188 stripped the king of his possessions in Asia Minor, and his son, the future Antiochus IV Epiphanes, was taken hostage to Rome where he remained for over a decade (188-176), observing with fascination the Roman military success and political organization. Upon his return to Syria, he was possessed by a mania to arrange his own realm according to Roman principles, no doubt in hopes of imitating their successes. Among other measures, he sought to apply the Roman principle of establishing political control through a partial extension of citizenship to local provincial elites. This may have been an idea behind Antiochus seeking to make one people of his subjects (Book of Maccabees 1:41-42) by offering Antiochene citizenship to willing groups in the cities of his realm. He may have viewed his interference in the Judean temple state as a legitimate step in protecting the civic interests of his newly enfranchised Antiochenes there, that is, the Jewish Hellenists who willingly adopted this citizen status. A simultaneous enforcement of religious uniformity, discernible in Antiochus decree, as described in the Book of Maccabees 1:41-64, may have been another measure based on a Roman model. In 187 BC, the Roman Senate passed a decree suppressing popular participation in the Dionysian cult in Italy on the grounds that private nightly gatherings of the populace could serve as a fertile ground for political conspiracy. Antiochus could have witnessed these events during his sojourn in Rome and later applied a similar logic to the treatment of the Jewish worship in Judea, where the priestly class was a constant source of political unrest in his time. His interference in the Jewish worship was therefore most likely politically motivated, and not a matter of pagan attack on monotheism. Antiochuss approach to the administration of Judea, so different from the Ptolemaic, polarized opinions and allegiances within the Jewish community. Some were eager to become citizens of the new order, Antiochenes, just as they would later want to become 8

Roman citizens. Others bided their time in the hope of a return to the familiar Ptolemaic style of rule. Among anti-Hellenists, difficulties of theological kind further complicated matters: Pietists believed that any foreign king set above them was divinely ordained, and they were to endure whatever ill treatment, even death, at his hands on the understanding that it was the divine will. Neither the camps of Hellenists, nor those of anti-Hellenists were uniform, sporting multiple variations of opinion, and all parties equally employed similar methods of obtaining their ends: they sought support from and took sides in political struggles between different Hellenistic rulers according to how they perceived the likelihood of each granting their particular requests. Mattathias, the son of Yohanan, of the high-priestly clan of Yehojarib, and his five sons who became the leaders of a successful Jewish revolt that eventually led to the establishment of an independent kingdom of Judea ca. 141 BC, were different from their Jewish contemporaries in two ways: in taking up military offensive against both Ptolemies and Seleucids, as well as in rejecting the pacifistic stance of the Pietists, including the endorsement of fighting in self-defense on Sabbaths in violation of the Torah. For the latter stance they were severely criticized in later Jewish sources, but both these attitudes may have contributed to their success. Although subsequently the Maccabees engaged in pragmatic alliances with Rome and Sparta, in the early stages of the revolt their novel approach of non-cooperation with the Hellenistic rulers helped to break the gridlock of factional in-fighting among the Jews in Judea, and brought the majority of population over to their side. Since political and religious leadership were always isomorphic in Judea, the Maccabees hastened to follow up their military victories with the reclaiming of the civic and religious control through the purification and rededication of the Jerusalem temple in 165 BC. More than One Answer In the second half of the 2nd century BC, the political and religious support of the Maccabees and the Hasmonean dynasty was not universal among the Jewish circles. In the aftermath of the revolt, various forms of opposition to the Hasmoneans led to the foundation of an alternative Jewish temple at Leontopolis in Egypt by a disaffected member of the high-priestly Oniad family who had fled from Jerusalem, and of another temple rival to Jerusalem at Araq el-Amir in Transjordan by the Tobiad Hyrcanus, and possibly also to the establishment of the Qumran community on the Dead Sea. Furthermore, in the south, another Israelite shrine, at Lachish (Tell ed-Duweir) in Idumea, was in operation from the 2nd cent BC, and in the north, the Samaritan temple at Mt. Gerizim, at the old site of Shechem, founded after the Macedonian conquest ca. 330 BC was sometimes perceived as a counterweight to the Jerusalem cult. The existence of these religious sites outside of Judea suggests a conception of the Jewish observance in parallel, or even unconnected, to the Jerusalem Temple. The Maccabean revolt, and the establishment of an independent Judea ca. 141BC, even more than the conditions of the Hellenistic Age served as a catalyst for the renewed Jewish debates on the meaning of proper Mosaic observance and the very definition of Jewishness, the debates that were to serve as a foundation for the later Jewish responses to the Roman conquest and the destruction of the Second Temple. 9

Sources: J. Goldstein, I Maccabees (1976) and II Maccabees (1983). A New Translation with Introduction and Commentary. Carden City, NY; J. Sievers, Synopsis of Greek Sources for the Hasmonean Period: 1-2 Maccebees and Josephus, War 1 and Antiquities 12-14 (Rome, 2001). Select bibliography: V. Tcherikover, Hellenistic Civilization and the Jews (New York, 1985); The Cambridge History of Judaism, vol. 2 The Hellenistic Age (Cambridge, 1989); A. Kasher, Jews and Hellenistic Cities in Eretz-Israel (Tbingen, 1990); C. Bakhos, ed., Ancient Judaism in its Hellenistic Context (Leiden, 2005).

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Maoz Tzur Rabbi Geoffrey L Shisler, New West End United Synagogue In the same way that the melody for Adir Hu has become the Pesach song, so has the melody to Maoz Tzur become associated with Chanukah, and although it is a very popular song, the true origins of both the words and the tune are not certain. Let us start with the words. If you take the first letter of each stanza and put them together, they spell out the word Mordechai. This is, of course someones name, and there are many examples in our liturgy of people weaving their names into their own compositions. The problem here, however, is that we cannot say with absolute certainty who this Mordechai was. One suggestion is that he was Mordechai ben Yitzchak Halevi, and he lived before the year 1250. The first stanza is an introduction to the theme of the next four, which is praise to God for having saved us from our enemies. In the second we speak of how He brought us out from the Egyptian slavery, and in the third of our return from the Babylonian exile. The fourth refers to our deliverance from the wicked Haman, and in the final verse we speak of the story of Chanukah itself. In the new Siddur of the Chief Rabbi, there appears for the very first time in the Authorised version, an extra verse, and the heading to it says Some add [this verse.] It was undoubtedly added to Mordechais original hymn much later, and Seligman Baer, the editor of Siddur Avodat Yisrael (The Service of Israel), which is the Siddur on which the Rev Simeon Singers original Authorised Daily Prayer Book was based, does not include it. In his commentary he says that this verse is not found in any of the ancient Siddurim that he consulted.

This extra verse reads: Bare your holy arm, and hasten the time of salvation. Take retribution against the evil nation on behalf of Your servants. For deliverance has been too long delayed, and there seems no end to the evil days. Thrust the enemy into the darkness of death, and establish for us the seven shepherds. (Translation taken from Chief Rabbis Siddur)

In his book, Kitzur Shelah Rabbi Isaiah Horowitz, (c.1565 - 1630) writes:

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I read in an ancient manuscript that, since the hymn [Maoz Tzur] contained references only to the empires of Babylonia, Media and Greece, but not to Edom and Ishmael, and none to our eventual redemption from the exile which these last two world powers imposed upon us, another few verses were added, which refer to this, our final deliverance, and which are to be sung to the same tune as the first five verses. So it would appear that there were even more than this single extra stanza written, although today we no longer have them. Rabbi Eli Munk, in The World of Prayer says that extra stanzas were composed by Rabbi Moses Isserles, Rabbi Jeremiah of Wuerzburg, Rabbi Samuel, the author of a work called Nachalah Shivah, and others. The last line of this sixth verse -Thrust the enemy into the darkness of death, and establish for us the seven shepherds - is difficult to understand. The Hebrew for the first phrase is: Dchei Admon, Btseil Tsalmon, which literally means: Push away the red one into the shadows of darkness, and it is suggested that the red one - Admon - is a reference to the kingdom of Rome which was responsible for the dispersal of the Jewish people in which we live to this day. (Esau is called Edom, and the original nation of Rome is considered to be made up from his descendants.) As for the seven shepherds, the prophet Micha tells us that when the enemy will come into the land, we shall raise against them seven shepherds. The Talmud (Succah 52b) says that these seven shepherds are: David, Adam, Seth, Methuselah, Abraham, Jacob and Moses. The Melody As with many of our traditional melodies, the one that we generally utilise for Maoz Tzur is adapted from tunes that our predecessors heard, rather than being composed especially for those words. One of the great experts on the melodies of the Synagogue, A.Z. Idelsohn, is of the view that it is a typical German melody. He demonstrates that some of the melodic phrases come from a chorale by Martin Luther called Nun freut Euch Ihr lieben Christen. However, it was not Luthers composition since he had, in turn, adopted the tune of an old German folk-song, So weiss ich eins was mich erfreut, das plumlein auff preyter hyde. What we have today is a stylized arrangement by the famous British synagogue composer, Julius Mombach. There is no absolute requirement to sing this melody, and many others have been composed. Since we sing Maoz Tzur eight times at home, (not to count the number of times we sing it in shul and in other places!) it is a nice idea to take another melody on some of those occasions, just for a change.

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You can find a new setting from the book Shiru Lo www.geoffreyshisler.com, sung by Cantor Gideon Zellermeyer.

Shir

Chadash

at

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CHANUKAH FAQS Rabbi Daniel Roselaar, rabbi of Alei Tzion United Synagogue 1. When is the best time to light the Chanukah candles? The Chanukah candles should be lit as soon as possible after nightfall. However, pirsumei nisa (publicising the miracle) is an important dimension of the mitzvah and one should wait until all the members of the family are home from work and school before lighting in order that they will be able to participate in the mitzvah. 2. What about on Friday night? On Friday night the Chanukah candles must be lit earlier than usual since they cannot be lit once Shabbat has commenced. They should be lit immediately before lighting the Shabbat candles and one should make sure to use longer candles than usual so that they will burn until half-an-hour after nightfall. (Keeping the candles in the freezer helps ensure that they will burn longer!) 3. Which member of the family should light the candles? Ashkenazi practise is that all the members of the family should light their own set of Chanukah candles each evening. Even though women are not usually obliged to participate in positive time-bound mitzvot this is an exception because they shared in the events of the Chanukah story. However, in many families a husband and wife will fulfil the mitzvah jointly. Sephardim generally light just one Menorah per family but that is far less fun! 4. If a person is in shul when the Chanukah candles are lit do they still have to light the candles at home as well? Yes. The lighting in shul is more of a public reminder than an actual fulfilment of the mitzvah. The same is true if one goes to a wedding or bar / bat mitzvah celebration where the candles are lit Chanukah candles still must be lit when returning home, even if it is very late. 5. Is Chanukah a Yomtov? Not in the most formal sense. Even though Hallel is recited there is no prohibition against working on Chanukah. However there is a custom that women do not do any serious work during the first half-hour that the candles are burning each evening. 6. Some shuls have electric Menorahs. Are they kosher? Such Menorahs are not kosher for fulfilling the mitzvah but work well to remind people that they need to fulfil the mitzvah. A kosher Menorah is based on the Menorah that was used in the Temple and needs a fuel and a wick. Nowadays most people tend to use candles but some people enhance the mitzvah by using olive oil which was what was used in the Temple Menorah.

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7. What should people who are away on holiday do for lighting Chanukah candles? If a person is staying in a hotel they should light the candles in their room and obviously they should make sure that they keep a careful watchful eye on the candles during the whole time that they are alight. (They can be blown out after the first half hour.) If there is a concern that a Menorah full of candles is going to set off the fire alarms and cause the hotel to be evacuated then one would be allowed to light just one candle instead of the full compliment for that night. 8. What if a person is on a long distance flight through the night. Is there any way that they can light the Chanukah candles? No is the short answer. But if other members of the family are at home they should light the candles with the traveller in mind. 9. Where should the Chanukah candles be placed. Ideally they should be lit in a place where the members of the family, as well as passersby, can see them. The windowsill of a front room is often a good place to put them, provided that the family will watch them there for a while. 10. When should the candles be lit at the end of Shabbat? The candles should not be lit until after the conclusion of Shabbat. In shul they are always lit before Havdalah but at home different families have different traditions some families light them before Havdalah and some afterwards. Some families that light them afterwards use the Havdalah candle to light the Shamash candle so as to achieve two different mitzvot with the same candle.

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Why is this Chanukah so different from that Chanukah? by Maureen Kendler, Head of Educational Programming at LSJS (London School of Jewish Studies) and a member of Woodside Park United Synagogue The Talmud asks, What is Chanukah3? trying to distil the exact nature of the festival. Chanukah does seem to hold a particularly affectionate place in Jewish hearts around the world. Why do we like it so much? The obvious answers are that it is not very demanding or labour intensive, all is done comfortably at home, involving a few candles and some yummy fried food. But perhaps these responses do not fully explain our special attachment to this festival. Chanukah education around the Jewish world over the last fifty years has shown considerable elasticity. In Israel, emphasis is placed on the military victory of the small Maccabean army over the large, mighty Greek army. American Charedi communities focus on the struggle of spirituality, particularism and anti-assimilation; it stands as a warning of what happens to Jews when they mix too closely with other cultures. In mainstream Jewish America, the Chanukah educational narrative focuses on Judah Maccabee as freedom fighter, linked to the importance of religious freedom. Christmas and Chanukah are inextricably linked, commercially and culturally. When Jewish writer Anne Roiphe in 1978 wrote an article in the New York Times entitled Christmas Comes to a Jewish Home about buying a Christmas tree, she was startled by the overwhelming response from so many distressed readers, including Rabbis offering to educate her about Chanukah! The latter was an offer she took up. Realising she had touched a raw nerve in her readership, the following year she wrote in Tikkun magazine: Now I see Chanukah as a time when, as we light the candles, we pause in awe before the Jewish people whose survival through adversity brings light into the darkness of the human soul. When Jews resist Christmas, we re-affirm our own separate identity. Like many of her New York readers, she had come to view Christmas as a persuasive force with its seductive armoury of prettiness, tinsel and carols. Roiphe reclaims Chanukah as a weapon for battle against this. Yet the juxtaposition and easy linkage of Christmas and Chanukah can also be problematic. Susan Sussmans delightfully comic childrens book: There's No Such Thing as a Chanukah Bush, Sandy Goldstein written in 1983 attempts to unravel the confused identity afflicting many American Jewish children wanting the best of all worlds. A puzzled Jew wrote to his Rabbi in Maryland a few years ago to ask whether he should attend a local Winter Luminaries event, in which Jews and Christians gather together to light Chanukah candles and enjoy a decorated Christmas tree. The Rabbis answer was

Babylonian Talmud (BT) Tracate Shabbat, 21b

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an unequivocal no. He argued that it is erroneous to equate the major festival of Christmas and the minor festival of Chanukah. He warned of inflating the status of Chanukah only to protect us from the Christmas spirit. He felt the two festivals to be theologically incompatible: the Christmas messages of goodwill, rebirth and redemption and the Chanukah one of rejecting alien cultures and the victory of monotheism over idolatry. That made this the least appropriate festival for inter-faith activities. His other objection was unlikely to be such a pressing issue here, but was evidently a very real one for Maryland: that innocent-looking events such as these are often disguised Fulfilled Jews initiatives run by Messianic Jews with an agenda not to be trusted. Chanukah in post-war Europe has had a different educational emphasis. It is intriguing that the narrative of Hannah and her seven sons, a standard story taught to children in this country, is not really known in America. From the time of the Crusades, this tale of martyrdom has been widely taught across European communities. The story exists in the Second Book of the Maccabees and is graphically retold in the Babylonian Talmud4. It recounts the terrible suffering of Hannah, a mother forced to watch her seven sons tortured and killed in turn, for refusing to bow down before false gods. After witnessing this, Hannah becomes insane and jumps to her death from a roof. It is a terrible tale, raising all kinds of difficult questions over the value, purpose and messages of martyrdom. Hannah as a role model is a very troubling one. Yet our history - especially after the Shoah - inevitably connects us to such a narrative. The songs and prayers recited on Chanukah also offer mixed messages: Al Hanisim focuses on the avenging of our wrongs and delivering of the many to the few. Mi yemalel carries a more overtly Messianic redemptive message, Hanerot Hallalu speaks of miracles and holiness whilst Maoz Tzur extols our history of delivery from a series of determined enemies. A great miracle happened here: Somehow the many faces of Chanukah each reflect the key aspect of the festival: survival. Whoever we are, wherever we find ourselves, we can all light our candles to celebrate that with great joy and gratitude.

BT Gitin 57b

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Modiin Then and Now Joanna Maissel, formerly a member of Kingsbury United Synagogue, originally made Aliyah from Kingsbury 20 years ago and lives in Modiin with her wonderful husband (formerly a member of Wembley United Synagogue) and 3 energetic, boisterous children. Living in a city which is only 14 years old is a wonderful experience. I have watched this city grow from 17,000 to 80,000 citizens in the 10 years since moving here and yet I still feel that I am living in a large village. The city is designed so that all the main boulevards feature wide parks and flow down to the city center where we find the Mall, train station, swimming pool and the brand new green slopes of Park Anabe which sports a boating lake. We have eagerly watched each of these sites being built and opened. My family moved to this city because of its great location almost equidistant between Jerusalem and Tel Aviv-and due to its (then) very reasonable property prices. We live in the Nachalim (streams) neighbourhood, where our community is a mixture of Israelis and veteran Olim (immigrants), religious and non-religious. Modiin is a popular location for Olim from the UK. Shul is a very Israeli experience fast davening to finish by 10:30am on Shabbat, followed by sumptuous Kiddushim with cholent, Kugel and herring. Shul social activities are geared to the Israeli weather - barbecues on the beach and clambering through tunnels on community hikes. Modern Modiin began as a very secular city. Many of the new residents moved away from the religious atmosphere of Jerusalem in search of a secular city free of religious coercion. Over the years, more religious people moved here and the population is probably about 20% religious. Now, hardly a week goes by without another Synagogue being opened, Sefer Torah being danced in or a new Minyan being set up. There are thriving communities of different hues living side by side in harmony. My children study in an experimental school for both religious and non-religious children, similar to JFS and Solomon Wolfson (a forerunner of the Michael Sobell Sinai School in Kenton) from my childhood. This is a new idea in a country where the education system is split into a religious or secular divide. People are flocking to Modiin for the opportunity to put their children in a school which caters to both and the waiting lists are long. Modiins modern day citizens are involved in Modiin's past and future. Each year, children take part in archaeological digs on Sher Hill, the site of ancient Hasmoneam tombs. In fact, my children have found pottery and seen ancient coins being discovered. Jump into the present and residents are voting on names for their future neighbourhoods as well as attending demonstrations to stop a new flight path over the city. A new neighbourhood is built and an old one is discoveredso the symbiosis of then and now continues.

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Ancient Modiin is most famous for its Chanukah connections as it was the home of the Maccabees in the Hasmonean era known for their great victory over King Antiochus in the Second Century BCE. Each year at Chanukah the city hosts the Modiin Heritage Conference. The real site of the Ancient Modiin has yet to be found. Ongoing debates suggest either the Arab Village of Midya, or Titora Hill which has a crusader tower built on top of ruins from the Hasmonean period. In recent years the site of Um el Umdan was discovered, on the Modiin Latrun road. The discovery included an ancient synagogue, a mikveh and remains of a Hasmonean village. Unfortunately, like with all the Modiin archaeological sites, a lack of funding means that these treasures are not fully discovered and the mystery of ancient Modiin remains just that. More recently, the Yiftach Brigade of the then nascent Israel Defence Forces, fought Operation Dani on Titora Hill in the 1948 War of Independence. The Israeli soldiers fought off the Jordanian Army which left the Hill of Titora on the Israeli side until 1967 when the green line was drawn up to include the area of Modiin Maccabim Reut after the Six Day War of that year. Every year, Modiin holds a commemorative ceremony in the newly named Yiftach Park and I walk down the hill from my house to show my children the soldiers who fought for the land on which we live. For the last four years, I was the Aliyah (moving to Israel) Coordinator for English Speaking Olim in Modiin. It was a wonderful opportunity to attract new Olim not just to Israel but to a city I love. Because Modiin is such a new city, it is still very welcoming and each person that moves here, either Israeli or Oleh feels that they can be part of making this city what it is. I found that British Aliyah to Modiin has been particularly successful, due to the willingness to integrate, knuckle down to a new life and appreciation of their new home in the beautiful city of Modiin.

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The Menorah: Ancient and Modern Rabbi Gideon D Sylvester, Tribes United Synagogue Israel Rabbi, lives and teaches in Jerusalem and Efrat. He also works for Ohr Torah Stone Educational Institutions in Efrat, Israel British Jews love Chanukah. Survey after survey reveals that lighting the Chanukah candles is one of the most widely observed Jewish practices. However religiously observant we may or may not be, we still enjoy standing around the Chanukiah5 eating latkes, exchanging gifts and singing the traditional Chanukah songs. Sociologists and skeptics would no doubt point out that when everyone else in the country is celebrating Christmas or Divali, Diaspora Jews sometimes feel deprived. We need our own festivities to compensate us for our exclusion from the tree, the tinsel, the lights and the presents, and so Chanukah developed into a major Jewish celebration. This might seem a weak reason for practicing a mitzvah, especially since Chanukah is so rich in meaning, yet a glance at the Talmud indicates that its not an entirely foreign idea. The Talmud6 says that for everything that God forbade to the Jewish people, he created an alternative which was permitted to us. While Judaism demands a certain discipline from us, and forbids us from celebrating Christian festivals, our religion should not be seen as an unending list of prohibitions which control our lives, draining them of pleasure. On the contrary, Judaism offers a depth, beauty and pleasure, which all of us can appreciate. In an age of assimilation it's crucial to highlight the most enjoyable elements of Judaism. Indeed, the festival of Chanukah arises from the fact that Jews stood firm against the temptation to assimilate into a highly attractive and prevalent, foreign Greek culture. It was our stubborn refusal to accept pagan gods and the Hellenist way of life that led the Maccabees to struggle against the Greeks, liberate the Temple and celebrate the miracle of the cruse of oil that lasted for eight days instead of just one. If Jews who are committed to our faith sometimes feel left out of national celebrations, the lighting of the very first menorah also compensated someone who felt disappointed at his exclusion from a communal activity. Ramban7 in his commentary on the Torah8
5

Chanukiah describes the eight branched candelabrum which we light for Chanukah. Although often referred to as the Menorah, the phrase Menorah more accurately describes the seven branched candelabrum used in the Mishkan (portable desert synagogue used by the Jews after leaving Egypt) and then later in the Temple.
6

Babylonian Talmud (BT) Chulin 109b

Rabbi Moses ben Nachman, 1190-1274, (aka Ramban) wrote a very important commentary to the Torah.
8

See Rambans commentary to Bemdibar (Numbers) 8:2.

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describes the command to light the Menorah in the Mishkan the portable Temple used by Jews through their travels in the desert. He suggests that Aaron, the brother of Moses, was disappointed that alone amongst the princes of the tribes he was not included amongst the donors to the Mishkan, but God reassured him saying: "Do not worry, your contribution will be greater than theirs". God taught Aaron about the Menorah that would be lit in the Temple, and showed him how even after the destruction of the Temple, this candelabrum would be replicated in Jewish homes throughout the world as Jews everywhere would light the Chanukah candles. This is one of the messages of the Chanukiah. There may be moments in life where we feel that we have been excluded, overlooked or missed out. But God reminds us that He is always with us. In the Temple in Jerusalem, the Menorah was lit in the evening and burned continuously but unostentatiously throughout the night. Few people would have seen it alight for all that time, and the lights themselves were only small olive oil lamps, but their impact was powerful. They taught our nation never to despair. The Lubavitcher Rebbe9 was fond of teaching that a little light can dispel a lot of darkens and that is precisely what we do when we kindle the Chanukah lights. With winter setting in and the bleak dark winter nights getting longer, we stand with pride and proclaim that we can break the darkness by just sending out a small warm glow of light. In Jerusalem, we place our Chanukiot just outside the front door of our homes, elsewhere most Jews light their candles by a window facing out to the street. Either way though, the Chanukiah is always connected to our home. Lighting candles in the synagogue, the streets or at parties may be beautiful and inspiring, but it does not fulfill our obligations as candle-lighters, that can only be done at home. This teaches us that although we often perceive the heroes of history to be those who fought on the battlefields, there are heroes and heroines of Jewish history who may not make the headlines, but whose contribution deserves recognition. The Chanukiah again reminds us of the importance of those who do not necessarily get the credit they deserve. The period of Chanukah was one of assimilation and pressure to drop our principles and capitulate to the surrounding culture. The Maccabee warriors could have won all the military campaigns in the world, but if our identity had been diluted, these would have been pyrrhic victories. Only by ordinary Jews maintaining their homes as Jewish sanctuaries could we ensure Jewish continuity and build the decent, caring Jewish society of our dreams.

Rabbi Menachem Mendel Scheneerson ,1902-1994, commonly known as the Lubavitcher Rebbe was a prominent Chasidic leader. Chasidism is a branch of Orthodox Judaism.

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My teacher, Rabbi Dr Shlomo Riskin10 told us that when the former Chief Rabbi of Israel, Rabbi Yisrael Meir Lau, was a child in a Buchenwald, the Nazi officers would come into the bunk rooms, hand out the miniscule rations and then offer the starving inmates the opportunity to lick out the margarine barrel. It was a brutal ceremony, as young and old Jews scurried over to clamber into the rotating barrel for a lick which might prolong their miserable lives. But there was one elderly man who adamantly refused to participate in this inhuman exercise. The young Yisrael Meir Lau watched this man with amazement, respect and honour. He even wondered if this dignified old Jew was actually Elijah the prophet who had come to be with his people in hell. Until, one day, as the officers brought in the barrel, even this saintly man seemed to succumb to his worst instincts, charging over to the revolving barrel, working feverishly to scrape it out, as the Nazi guards taunted him with their curses. The young boy was devastated. He felt let down by the one man who had held on to a trace of his humanity. Yisrael Meir could barely look at his former mentor who had participated in this savage rite. But nevertheless, it was hard to contain his curiosity and so later that evening, he glanced across at the opposite bunk where he saw the old man fashioning the margarine into candles and a few minutes later a group of men gathered around to witness the lighting of the very first light of Chanukah! All this helps us to understand why the Menorah was such an apt symbol for the State of Israel. Our country which began as a very fragile project is now a strong and powerful state, yet its mission remains unchanged. The lights of the Menorah remind us that our Jewish State is a vehicle for ordinary Jews to express the Jewish vision of spreading light in the darkness and upholding the highest religious, spiritual moral and ethical values. We may not be there yet, but the lights of the Chanukah remind us that with pride and commitment to our mission; a little light can dispel a lot of darkness.

Rabbi Riskin is rabbi of the Israeli town of Efrat and chancellor of Ohr Torah Stone Institutions in Israel www.ohrtorahstone.org.il . Founding rabbi of the Lincoln Square Synagogue in New York,. his column on the weekly Torah reading is in the Jerusalem Post www.jpost.com

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Highlights from the Jewish Museum

The new and improved Jewish Museum opened on 17 March 2010 after a 10 million transformation, this new London landmark explores and celebrates Jewish life and cultural diversity. Using the newest museum technologies and groundbreaking interactive displays, the museum tells the story of Jewish history, culture and religion in an innovative and compelling way, engaging with people of all backgrounds and faiths to explore Jewish heritage and identity as part of the wider story of Britain. Displayed across four permanent galleries, you will discover a huge variety of objects, films, photography, hands-on exhibits and personal stories that paint a rich and nuanced picture of British Jewish life up until today, as well as exploring contemporary social issues around immigration and settlement. But at the heart of the museum is the collection. The Jewish Museums collection has been awarded Designated status by the Museums Libraries & Archives Council one of only a small number in the country. This means that the collection is considered of national importance. Particularly of interest at this time of year is the impressive array of Chanukah lamps from all over the world and throughout the years. The gem being the Lindo Lamp, the most important piece of Anglo-Jewish Judaica in the collection. It is the earliest known English Chanukah lamp and one of the treasures of British Jewish heritage. It has been in the museum collection on loan since the 1930s but the museum has this year secured its future through various donations and grants which have allowed the museum to purchase it. It was on display at the Anglo-Jewish Exhibition of 1887 the first British exhibition of Judaica at the Victoria and Albert Museum. It was commissioned from silversmith John Ruslen in 1709 on the marriage of Elias Lindo to Rachel Lopes Ferreira. Eliass father, Isaac Lindo (1638 1712), fled from the Inquisition in the Canary Isles and settled in London in 1670. The Lindos became prominent members of the early community of Spanish and Portuguese Jews in London and founder members of Bevis Marks Synagogue, established in 1701. They also distinguished themselves in science and literature, in charitable endowments and as patrons of the arts. The backplate of the Chanukah lamp is chased with the figure of the prophet Elijah fed by the ravens, in a play on Elias Hebrew name. The Lindo Lamp is just one on many pieces of Jewish ceremonial art to be found in the Judaism: A Living Faith gallery. The museums impressive collection of Judaica also includes the Mocatta mantle. Despite being over two centuries old, is still in excellent condition and the colours are still bright. Also on display are the beautiful Kandler scrolls, these miniature scrolls that were suitable for travelling, housed in neo-classical style silver cases where made by Kandler, silversmith to George III. The oldest object in the collection is the medieval mikvah from the 13th century. It was discovered in the City of London in 2001 and is believed to be the oldest surviving object 23

from the first Jewish community in England. It is one of the first objects visitors come across in the Museum and is the start of our story in both religious and historical terms mikvah is one of the first items constructed for use by a Jewish community as it is so important in religious terms and this mikvah is a rare survival of Englands first Jewish community in the medieval period. It dates from the late medieval period not more than 50 years before the expulsion of the Jews, but interestingly showing that even then, Jews still felt secure enough in medieval society to build it. The upper floors of the museum contain History: A British Story, a gallery exploring how and why Jewish people have come to the UK from around the world and their experiences. Alongside the History gallery you will find The Holocaust Gallery, a unique space which explores the impact of Nazism through the experiences and poignant personal items of London-born Auschwitz survivor Leon Greenman OBE and other survivors who have made their home in Britain. The new museum also houses a Changing Exhibitions Gallery where you can view an exciting range of exhibitions, currently Morocco: Photographs by Elias Harrus and Pauline Prior - a beautiful photography exhibition revealing the almost forgotten Jewish community who lived in peaceful co-existence with the Muslim population for over 1000 years. There is also a state-of-the-art 100-seater auditorium which houses a stimulating programme of events for all the family, from concerts to craft workshops, comedy and talks. Plus there is also a kosher caf to make your visit complete. The only museum dedicated to a minority group, the Jewish Museum has a vital role to play in British society and is something for the Jewish community to be proud of. For more details, visit: www.jewishmuseum.org.uk or call 020 7284 7384. Group visits are available call now to book a date.

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Chanukah: A festival of love renewed by Rabbi Jason Demant, formerly a member of Stanmore & Cannons Park United Synagogue and Community Director at Woodside Park United Synagogue. Rabbi Demant is now a teacher and NLP life coach based in Jerusalem. His website is www.jasondemant.com

There are certain Jewish practices which are truly very beloved. You might love cheese cake on Shavuot or humantashen on Purim. For me, practically all the special foods of the annual Pesach seder bring back childhood memories. Of all the commandments, Rambam11 describes the chanukah lights as being an especially beloved mitzvah. This appellation is given by Rambam to this mitzvah alone. Indeed for me and perhaps for you too, lighting the candles and singing Maoz Zur is indeed very special. However, how are Chanukah and its lights unique and different from other Jewish practices, such as sitting in a succah or eating matzah? If we are to understand Chanukah better, we need to improve our understanding of Jewish history and some of the inner workings of the Torah. To start our investigation we must ask a fundamental question. Namely, how does any festival, be it Pesach, Purim, Succot, Rosh Hashanah or Yom Kippur become an official Jewish festival in the first place? This question becomes particularly important when we consider Purim and Chanukah which both postdate the Torah. Furthermore, the Torah even has a clear prohibition against the adding of extra commandments to those found in the Torah itself12. Yet, despite this, Purim and Chanukah, although instituted by the rabbis many generations after the revelation at Mount Sinai, are valid and legitimate festivals. Let us start at the beginnings of Jewish national history. We became the Jewish nation at the exodus from Egypt. This first generation, which lived in the desert experienced slavery and freedom and revelation on Mount Sinai. Indeed the members of this generation were not simply the beginnings of our national history, they actually defined it for the simple reason that they were the ones who actually lived through it. We eat bitter herbs on Pesach because this first generation felt the bitterness and torture of the slavery of Egypt. We sit in a succah on Succot because the members of this first generation enjoyed the shelter of the Divine clouds of glory during their life in the desert.

Rabbi Moses ben Maimon (1135-1204), known by the acronym Rambam was a great philosopher and codifier of Jewish law. See his Mishneh Torah Hilchot Chanukah 4:12 for the idea cited here.
12

11

See Devarim (Deuteronomy) 13:1 and Sefer HaChinuch mitzvah number 454.

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Indeed our festivals are only legitimate festivals if they originated in an experience or event which this first, paradigmatic, generation that came out of Egypt went through. They didnt so much celebrate because they had been commanded to, but because celebrating was a natural continuation of having experienced God's kindness. Contrastingly, future generations, who never experienced those actual events, can only celebrate the event as a tradition about that event, received over time. We can now appreciate the legitimacy of Purim. Purim, explained the rabbis, though it occurred years after that first desert generation, was in fact not actually the adding of a new festival at all. Rather Purim and the defeat of Haman was seen as simply a direct continuation of the events of the desert generation, a continuation of their experience13. The Jewish people, led by Esther, were simply continuing the Jewish battle with Amalaik, the evil foe who confronted us in the desert after the exodus and will continue to battle us until the end of time14. This explanation works well for Purim but does it fit for Chanukah? How could Chanukah be viewed as a continuation of the events experienced by the desert generation? Surely the defeat of Antiochus by the Maccabees would constitute a completely new event in Jewish history, far removed from anything experienced by the first generation during their time in the desert? Let us briefly review some of the events that Chanukah commemorates. These events occurred during the times of the Second Temple in Jerusalem. The temple was looted and the services stopped with the despotic Graeco-Syrian tyrant Antiochus IV ordering an altar to the idol Zeus to be erected in the Temple in the year 167 BCE15 to further his policy of Hellenisation. This effectively outlawed Judaism. After the Jews successfully and miraculously rebelled against the forces of Antiochus IV, the temple was rededicated and only one day's worth of pure oil was found. What would be the most suitable Torah reading to mark Chanukah? It is noteworthy that the Rabbis of the Talmud16 selected passages from Bemidbar (the book of Numbers) chapter seven, detailing the sacrifices of dedication brought by the tribal princes, at the inauguration of the Mishkan, the portable desert temple. According to Rashi17, Aaron was dismayed that his tribe, Levi, was not included in the procession of those giving

13

See for example Babylonian Talmud (BT) Tractate Megila 10b and Tractate Chulin 139b. Shemot (Exodus) 17:8-16 BCE (Before Common Era) is the Jewish equivalent of the Christian phrase BC. See the Mishnah, BT Megila 30b

14

15

16

Rabbi Shlomo ben Yitzchak, 1040-1105, (acronym: Rashi), wrote the foremost commentary on the Torah (Pentateuch). The commentary cited here is to Bemidbar 8:2.

17

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sacrifices at the dedication of the Mishkan. Instead, Aaron was given the commandment of lighting the Menorah in the Mishkan, which Rashi explains was meant to console Aaron18. Other great medieval commentators on the Torah query Rashis explanation.. Ramban19, for example, explains that the compensation was not the lighting after the dedication of the Mishkan but rather the lighting of the Menorah at the rededication of the temple at the time of Chanukah. At the Chanukah dedication, the Menorah was not incidental to the re-institution of the temple service, rather the dedication occurred through the very lighting of the Menorah itself, by Aarons descendants. Unlike Purim, the lighting of the oil at the rededication of the temple as commemorated by Chanukah was not a way to connect back to the experiences of the desert generation but instead acted to bypass history entirely. The Lighting of the Menorah restarted history, restarting the circle, by recreating the effects of the paradigmatic desert generation there and then. Like a beloved couple separated, God and the Jewish people came back together, united by the rededication of the temple. The union brought about after a period of separation was indeed more beloved than previously. It was considered as if the Jewish people had returned to that very first generation again. Let us compare for a moment the Chanukah lights to other commandments. Consider eating matzah or making Kiddush on Friday night. These commandments are symbolic of events that took place, namely the Exodus and the Shabbat of creation respectively and are certainly not those events themselves. Matzah symbolizes slavery but eating matzah is not the same as experiencing slavery. Kiddush commemorates how God rested on Shabbat, but it is not that rest itself. Chanukah candles, however, are not symbolic. Without the revolt and the miracle of the oil there would not have been a rededication of the Temple at all. The very fact that we have the ability to light candles today is due to that dedication. Being able to light, free of the Graeco-Syrian tyranny is itself the miracle we are celebrating. When we light the candles on Chaunkah, those magical lights are really an annual rededication of the Jewish people. The lights remove us from the fetters of history and bring us back to that generation which experienced the kindness of God in the desert at first hand. Love is beyond time. Rambam wrote that lighting Chanukah candles is an especially beloved mitzvah since through kindling those lights, the Jewish people and Gd come close together in a way that is only possible after final satisfying a deep longing to find, once again, closeness with Gods Presence.

18

See Rashi ibid.

Rabbi Moses ben Nachman, 1194-1270 (acronym: Ramban) ibid, wrote a seminal commentary to the Torah, with particular emphasis on themes.

19

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Chanukah: Is it time to party? Rabbi Andrew Shaw, director of United Synagogue Living and Learning, Community Rabbi of Stanmore and Cannons Park United Synagogue One of the major differences between Chanukah and Purim is that feasting is intrinsic to Purim only, not to Chanukah20. At first glance, this may seem puzzling. Both festivals celebrate the salvation of the Jewish people so why should only one of them need to have a party? As you will find explained elsewhere in this Chanukah guide, Chanukah (as well as Purim) is a post-Biblical festival. As the Bible could not give us specific guidance on how to celebrate either festival, the Rabbis of the Talmud, who fixed the cohesive frameworks of Jewish observance familiar to us today, had to decide how we should best commemorate Chanukah and Purim in a way that would be consistent and straightforward for Jews wherever they would be. The Rabbis looked at what underpinned Chanukah and the major factors that should be commemorated. Our foes in the Chanukah story did not want to kill us physically, other than when we rose up against them. Instead, they wanted to kill us spiritually by eradicating Judaism. Therefore, we highlight (no pun intended!) the spiritual victory by lighting the Chanukah candles and singing accompanying songs, such as Haneirot Halalu and Maoz Tzur which, whilst not ignoring our miraculous military victory, focus more on the spiritual triumph of the survival of Judaism21. Although special eating is not mandatory on Chanukah, various delicious customs involving eating have of course arisen around Chanukah. However those of you pursuing healthier diets will no doubt be pleased to hear that there is no obligation to eat doughnuts or latkes, although you could go for sprinkling olive oil on a salad instead! Nonetheless, the primary focus of the Chanukah commemoration is spiritual; you will find further discussion of this theme in the rest of this guide. Chanukah parties are fun and a great way to celebrate the festival. They are, however, secondary to the lighting (I should take this opportunity, whilst talking parties, to invite you to the United Synagogues Chanukah on Ice on Sunday 5 December from 3.30pm5.30pm at the Tower of London. Further details from www.tribeuk.com )

See Shulchan Aruch (Code of Jewish Law, written in the sixteenth century by Rabbi Joseph Caro of Safed, Israel), Laws of Chanukah, section Orach Chayim 670:2 See Mishna Berura (19 /20 century commentary to the Shulchan Aruch written by Rabbi Yisrael Mein Kagan, 1838-1933, also known as Chafetz Chaim ) comment number 6 and Aruch th Hashulchan (19 century work of Jewish law written by Rabbi Yechiel Michel Epstein, 1829-1908) comment number 9 ibid.
21 th th

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Contrastingly, on Purim, our enemies wanted to destroy us physically and would not have stopped even if we had offered to abandon Judaism. Therefore, the Rabbis of the Talmud instituted a more physical celebration through feasting. This helps us to appreciate the physical survival of Purim. As we light the Chanukah candles this year, let us remember how Judaism survived the Chanukah encounter and appreciate how this should inspire us as Jews today. Whether you have a Chanukah party or not, Chanukah is as good a time as any to bring some light into peoples lives yourself as well as others. Have a very meaningful and happy Chanukah.

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Haneirot Halalu these are the lights

By Rabbi Michael Laitner, Education Coordinator of the United Synagogues Living and Learning Programme; assistant rabbi at South Hampstead United Synagogue

After we kindle the first Chanukah light, we recite a short prayer entitled Haneirot Halalu these are the lights. The translation of Haneirot Halalu below is by Chief Rabbi Lord Sacks in the latest version of the Authorised Daily Prayer Book (Singers). It reads as follows: We light these lights because of the miracles, deliverances and wonders You performed for our ancestors through Your holy priests. Throughout the eight days of Chanukah these lights are holy and we are not permitted to make any other use of them, except to look at them that we may offer thanks to Your name for Your miracles, Your deliverances and Your wonders. Haneirot Halalu does not concentrate on the Chanukah story per se. Instead, its focus is on the message of the candles and the prohibition to make other use of the candles. We shall briefly discuss aspects of the origins of Haneirot Halalu and how it found its place in the Chanukah lighting proceedings.

Historical background Haneirot Halalu first appears in the eighth century work Masechet Soferim22. This work was compiled in the Land of Israel well after the completion of the Talmud; Haneirot Halalu is not referred to in the Talmud, either the Babylonian or Jerusalem versions23.

See Masechet (Tractate) Soferim 20:6 in the Rubinstein edition. Masechet Soferim, although written long after the editing of the Talmud, is found as one of the Masechtot Ketanot (small tractates) at the end of Masechet Avoda Zara in many editions of the Vilna Shas (Vilna edition of the Talmud). See Rabbi Professor Daniel Sperbers comprehensive and fascinating Hebrew article on Haneirot Halalu in his Minhagei Yisrael, volume 5, chapter 2 (Mosad HaRav Kook, Jerusalem, 1995).
23

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Although many Midrashim24 were compiled in Israel around this time, the major centre of Jewish life then was Babylon and the major religious influences on the Jewish world were the rabbis of Babylon, known as the Geonim. The Geonim corresponded with Jewish communities all over the Jewish world, being instrumental in the maintenance, development and application of Jewish law applying the law to the facts as the world changed, just as rabbis do today. Their influence was enormous. As just one example, our Siddur (prayer book) today is to a large extent based on a Siddur written by Rav Amram Gaon25, at the request of the Spanish community. This is particularly noteworthy for two reasons. The first is that since the Chanukah story took place around the years 168-165 BCE26, Jews celebrated Chanukah for hundreds of years without saying Haneirot Halalu. The second is that since Haneirot Halalu did not originate in Babylon, it may have seemed unlikely that it would have been accepted into the Chanukah liturgy by Jews all over the world, rather only by Jews in Israel and those minority number of Diaspora Jews who followed the Land of Israels halachic (Jewish law) rulings rather than the Babylonian halachic rulings. Yet, despite this, Haneirot Halalu was accepted into the Chanukah liturgy. When did this happen and why? Halachic background One of the most authorative codifications of Jewish law is a work called the Arbaah Turim the four pillars - (often known simply as the Tur27), written by Rabbi Yaakov ben Asher of Toledo, Spain, in the early 14th century. To our surprise, given its previous absence from Halachic discussion, the Tur quotes the aforementioned reference in Masechet Soferim adding that both his father (Rosh see footnote 6) and his fathers teacher (Maharam MiRotenburg see footnote 6) were

Midrash refers to religious messages that Rabbis expounded from the Torah hence the word Derasha which today often refers to a sermon given in the synagogue. For more on Midrash, see Rabbi Dr Irving Jacobs works The Midrashic Process and The Impact of Midrash as well as Simi Peters book Learning to Read Midrash.
25

24

A 9 century rabbinic scholar who headed the famous yeshiva/academy of Sura in Babylon. BCE=Before Common Era, the Jewish equivalent of BC.

th

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This work was written by Rabbi Yaakov ben Asher, 1270-1340. It focuses on practical Jewish law and is divided into four pillars (sections) which became the basIS for the celebrated Beit Yosef compilation and the Shulchan Aruch (Code of Jewish Law) which were both written by Rabbi Joseph Caro, 1488-1575. The Tur draws heavily on the halachic (legal) decisions of Rabbi Yaakovs father, Rabeinu Asher (acronym: Rosh). Rosh started his life in Germany and was a student of the famed Rabbi Meir of Rotenburg (known as Maharam miRotenburg). Due to persecution, Rosh and his family fled south towards Spain, eventually settling in Toledo, where the Tur was written (and where Rabbi Caro was later born).

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accustomed to say Haneirot Halalu. This is confirmed by Rosh28 and another significant medieval halachist, the Mordechai29 who both note that they had heard that Maharam MiRotenburg said Haneirot Halalu30. Tur provides no other information as to how Hanierot Halalu entered the Chanukah liturgy. Maharam MiRotenburg was perhaps the towering Rabbinic figure of the Ashkenazi world in the 13th century. His recitation of Haneirot Halalu would provide strong support for its entry in the Chanukah liturgy, given the respect his scholarship and religious devotion earned in the Ashkenazi world. Suggestions as to what lay behind the adoption of Haneirot Halalu in the 13th century Why though might Maharam MiRotenburg have adopted a text from Masechet Soferim, given the historical and halachic background outlined above? The primary fulfilment of the mitzvah of lighting Chanukah candles is performed by lighting the first candle on any particular night of Chanukah. Accordingly, we have already completed this primary fulfilment by the time we recite Haneirot Halalu! Rabbi Dr Jeffrey Cohen31 suggests that the wording of Haneirot Halalu is not related to the observance of kindling lights per se but rather adjures us not to make use of the Chanukah lights for any purpose other than contemplating the miracles of Chanukah. In an age before electricity, when illuminating the house was expensive, Siddurim (prayer books) to recite Chanukah prayers or songs were in short supply and when people may not have known all of the Chanukah prayers, Haneirot Halalu reminds us of the purpose of the Chanukah candles so that we do not use the Chanukah lights for any purpose other than contemplation. This prohibition includes using the Chanukah candles to read words of prayer. Rabbi Cohen further suggests that the recitation of Haneirot Halalu followed the composition of Maoz Tzur32 in the 13th century and its growing popularity subsequently.
28

See commentary of Rosh to Masechet Shabbat, chapter 2, section 8.

Rabbi Mordechai ben Hillel, 1240 1298, (often known after his commentary as the Mordechai) was a prominent German halachist. See his commentary to Masechet Shabbat, section 263.
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29

Other versions of Haneirot Halalu, with small changes from the version in the Singers Siddur, appear in the works of other Rishonim (medieval halachic authorities). Rabbi Professor Daniel Sperber employs his customary encyclopaedic style as he lists and analyses these versions in his article referred to in footnote 2 above.

Rabbi Cohen is consultant rabbi of Hampstead Garden Suburb United Synagogue. See his 500 Questions and Answers on Chanukah, Vallentine Mitchell, 2005, pages 165-166.
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A popular Chanukah song sang after candle lighting

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As the Chanukah liturgy expanded from merely reciting berachot (blessings), the possibility of using the Chanukah candles to read Maoz Tzur occasioned the need for the cautionary recitation of Haneirot Halalu. Rabbi Professor Daniel Sperber33suggests an additional reason for the adoption of Haneirot Halalu in the 13th century by referring to a pertinent halachic dispute which still raged from the 12th century. 12th century Provencal rabbinic scholars, rabbis such as Rabbi Zerachia HaLevi34, permitted benefiting from the Chanukah lights for holy purposes (we might call these Mitzvah purposes today). Other rabbinic scholars disagreed. This is not unusual. Jewish law, like many other legal systems, applies the law to the facts as noted above. Just as competent judges in an English court may come to different conclusions in a case when applying the law to the facts, so too do halachic scholars. Maharam MiRotenburg may have felt, suggests Rabbi Sperber, that the view of the Provencal scholars was erroneous and that no use of the Chanukah candles was permitted, even for mitzvah use. The candles could only be used for contemplation of the Chanukah miracles. By instituting the recitation of Haneirot Halalu into the Chanukah liturgy, Maharam MiRotenburg showed his opposition to the view of the Provencal rabbinic scholars. His view proved persuasive amongst other rabbinic scholars, hence the incorporation of Haneirot Halalu into the Chanukah liturgy, plus the halachic writings of Tur and the other scholars mentioned above, as well as into the Shulchan Aruch (Code of Jewish law)35. To borrow loosely a phrase from Rabbi Dr Irving Jacobs36, Haneirot Halalu became another example of the ritualised theology employed by the rabbis in the compilation of the Siddur; an effective way to confirm Jewish beliefs or practices is to put those beliefs or practices into the Siddur, since it is used on a daily basis.

In his aforementioned article, cited in footnotes 2 and 9 above. See page 24 for these particular suggestions. Born in Wales, Rabbi Sperber is professor of Talmud at Bar Ilan University in Israel and a prolific author.
34

33

Rabbi Zerachya haLevi, 1125-1186, was a prominent halachist and Talmudist.

See section Orach Chayim, 676:4. For more information about the Shulchan Aruch, see footnote 6 above.
36

35

Rabbi Jacobs, former principal of Jews College, is rabbi of the Neve Shalom Synagogue in Wembley.

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An alternative view for the incorporation of Haneirot Halalu, is provided by the great 19th century authority, Rabbi Yechiel Michel Epstein37, who notes that the recitation of Haneirot Halalu adds to pirsumei nisa, awareness of the Chanukah miracle. Presumably, since the requirement of pirsumei nisa applies throughout the period of time that the candles are lit, it is perfectly in order to recite Haneirot Halalu after the kindling of the first candle since pirsumei nisa is an ongoing requirement, not satisfied with the kindling of the first candle. Conclusion We have seen that Haneirot Halalu originated in Masechet Soferim and appeared neither in the Babylonian of Jerusalem Talmudim, nor works of the Geonim. It seems to have eventually entered the Chanukah liturgy in a more widespread fashion in the 13th century, primarily due to Maharam MiRotenburg and his students. A need to avoid unauthorised use of the Chanukah lights, even for Mitzvah purposes, may lay behind the incorporation of Haneirot Halalu, as suggested by Rabbis Cohen and Sperber. Rabbi Epstein views the recitation of Haneirot Halalu as an aide to fulfilling the requirement of pirsumei nisa. Although there is far more to say about Haneirot Halalu, I hope that this brief survey helps us all to appreciate its significance more profoundly. I hope we can also further our appreciation of contemplating the Chanukah lights along with the fascinating applications of Jewish law and philosophy that lay behind the Siddur. I wish you a happy Chanukah.

Rabbi Yechiel Michel Epstein, 1829-1908, was perhaps most famously rabbi of the town of Navarduk and author of the monumental halachic work Aruch Hashulchan. The citation referred to here is in Orach Chayim, 676:8.

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The Chanukah Berachot and Hanerot Hallalu

Dov Lerner, a member of Belmont United Synagogue and a United Synagogue Rabbinic intern, is studying for Rabbinic ordination at Yeshiva University in New York whilst pursuing a degree in English literature at the same institution 1. The Shamash is lit, and while the Shamash is held, the following blessing is recited. . ' , )( Blessed are you, Lord our God, King of the Universe, who has made us holy through His commandments, and has commanded us to light the Chanukah candle (the candle of Chanukah). We begin the Chanukah service with a series of blessings. Despite the Rabbinic nature of this festival, it has been embedded in the system of Jewish practice, rooted in Jewish ritual, to the extent that it warrants and demands a blessing. We have been directed to follow the guidance of our Sages, and when, thousands of years ago, the Great Court established this Mitzvah, it entered the fabric of Jewish consciousness and we comfortably and confidently recite; we have been commanded to light the Chanukah candle. Based on Talmudic inconsistency and Rabbinic multiplicity various versions of this blessing have arisen. Many texts have the blessing concluding to light the Chanukah candle38, while, as indicated above, some have the candle of Chanukah39. Rabbi Solomon Luria40, however, felt drawn by both strains and contended that the correct version is Ner Shel Chanukah, a phrase that loses its force in translation; where the translation candle of Chanukah is retained, the words are fused together to capture the notion of Chanukah candle. At first flush this distinction seems rather minute. Beyond simple semantics, what difference lies between the Chanukah candle and the candle of

38

Shulchan Aruch (Code of Jewish Law) section Orach Chayim 676:1 Rabbi Moses ben Maimon, 1135-1204, Mishneh Torah, Laws of Chanukah 3:4 Rabbi Shlomo Luria, 1510-1574, Responsa number 85

39

40

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Chanukah? And why does Rabbi Luria feel compelled to construct a grammatically erroneous phrase in order to bridge the two? The difference is a fine one, one that could be easily, and regretfully, missed. On the one hand, candles are not uncommon in Jewish ritual. We have candles appearing for Shabbat, for Yom Tov, for Havdalah, for the pre-Pesach search, and more recently for Yartzeit. All instances are independent and have their own thrust, but through their mutual linkage connect to each other. The light on each occasion blends into an image that draws our attention to other sacred moments, other significant instances. The presence of the candle presents us with an awareness of context and perspective; where in the progression of time does Chanukah fall, with what does it parallel and differ? The candle as an object shifts through time and appears anew, carrying with it the significance that each event attaches to it. This is the candle that is affixed and appended to various times and various places; this is the candle of Chanukah.

But is the appearance of these candles simply another appearance, another context in which we find the candles used for Shabbat or Yom Tov? Are the candles a convenient and typical backdrop to this festival, a clich of sacred time? It could be, as explained by Rabbi Chayim Margulies41, that the Chanukah flames stand alone; they encompass a new and distinct identity, they flicker on a plane far removed, remote from other festivals. These pockets of warmth contain within their image the character of the Temple candelabrum, these waves of light emit the spirit of the Sanctum from their centre. Firmly planted in their purpose is the memory of military victory, the celebration of Gods intervention, the strength of the weak over the powerful. These are not simply the candles of Chanukah, but they are the Chanukah candles. Perhaps it was this duality, this bridging between generality and singularity that brought Rabbi Luria to combine the two texts. With the blessing holding two words as one, we forge a moment that stands, at once, as a part of and apart from the rest of Jewish time.

Shaarei Teshuva 676:1. Shaarei Teshuva is a commentary of the Orach Chayim section of the Shulchan Aruch (see footnote 1 above) written by Rabbi Chaim Mordechai Margaliyot.

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2. The Shamash still held, the following blessing is recited. On the first night continue with the next blessing. On all other nights: upon completion of this blessing the Chanukah candles are lit (.24)" . ' , , Blessed are you, Lord our God, King of the Universe, who performed miracles for our father in those days, at this time. This blessing appears only twice in the Jewish lexicon; at Chanukah and Purim. That being said a very similar blessing appears in the Talmud43 in the section that specifically discusses unusual blessings. Upon returning to a location where a personal or communal miracle took place, one recites Blessed are you...who performed miracles for our fathers in this place. It seems that with these miracles one doesnt, in the first instance, recollect salvation at the temporal anniversary but the spatial one. The miracle is constricted not to a moment in time, but to an area in space. The miracles of Chanukah (and Purim) somehow transcend space; they cannot be contained or constricted to a particular location or precinct. In the same way that Tisha BAv stands as a memorial in time, Chanukah stands as a monument in time. This, in turn, tells us about time. An old textual version of this blessing reads who performed miracles for our fathers in those days and at this time. All authorities reject this version and omit the word and; we conclude who performed miracles for our fathers in those days, at this time. What is the significance of this omission? Jewish time returns. When Chanukah appears on the calendar our minds are filled, in Marcel Prousts words, with gusts of memories. We are drawn back to childhood anticipation. These days, those candles, are not entirely unfamiliar, nothing is. To a

Ruling of Rabbi Moses Iserlis, 1530-1572, of Cracow, Poland, (acronym: Rema) was an outstanding halachist. Rema wrote notes to the Shulchan Aruch (see footnote 1 above), stating where Ashkenazi practice differed from the Sefaradi practice described in the Shulchan Aruch.
43

42

BT (Babylonian Talmud) Berachot 54a

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degree we have been taught to view history as lost, all vestige of the past as gone. Each day is fresh and unmarked; it has never been visited before, and shall never be felt again. The Jewish tradition, as buttressed by this blessing, sees time not as a line, but as a spiral. Each day is imbued with the meaning of that which has taken place on it in the past, while at the same time eager to host that which lies in store for its future. As we stand and sing, as we recall the miracles of the past, we hear the cries of victory, we smell the sweat of battle, we see the Menorah in the Temple. A wave of comprehension sweeps our consciousness as we become acutely aware; we have been here before. 3. This blessing is recited only on the first night; upon its completion the candle is lit. . ' , Blessed are you, Lord our God, King of the Universe, who has given us life, sustained us, and brought us to this time.

This blessing appears often; every festival, every recurring Mitzvah, every time we do anything with novelty44. This ranges from eating new fruit to buying new clothing to hearing good news to seeing a long lost friend. There are times when this blessing is conspicuously absent, for example when we count Sefirat HaOmer (the Omer) between Pesach and Shavuot. Many reasons are presented for this exception, however one in particular is perhaps most relevant for our discussion. Rabbi Nissim of Gerona45, a fourteenth century Jewish scholar, suggested that the blessing in question is only recited when there is a measure of happiness or perceived benefit. When one waves the Lulav one partakes of pure joySimchaat the time of joy, when one blows the Shofar on Rosh Hashanah one is in direct appeal to God, but when one counts the Omer one is acutely aware of the vacuum that fills Temple mount. We only bless novelty, according to Rabbi Nissim, when that novelty brings blessing to us.

44

For example see Shulchan Aruch, Orach Chayim chapter 225.

In his commentary at end of Masechet (Tractate) Pesachim of the Babylonian Talmud. Rabbi Nissim, 1320-1380, wrote an important Halachic commentary of the Babylonian Talmud

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Why exactly do we bless novelty? Would be it not be more sensible to await the results, to, in hindsight, rate the experience from an educated angle? Why do we halt all movement to bless this moment, having not even begun to live through it yet? Rabbi Yaacov Etlinger46 (1798) of Germany presents a radical understanding of this blessing. The content does not seem to celebrate the new moment directlyafter all the text could have been, Blessed are you...who has given us this new momentthe focus of the blessing seems in fact to be the past, Blessed are you...who has given us life, sustained us, and brought us to this time. We are more concerned with the journey that has brought us to this moment rather than the moment itself. Rabbi Etlinger47 suggests that this blessing is irrelevant unless there was a reasonable concern that the person would have died between this time and the previous one. Meaning that if from the time at which one began to anticipate the return of this moment (i.e. last Chanukah) there was a concern as to whether one would survive until its return, and one did, then one must give thanks. According to Rabbi Etlinger, we prepare for the Mitzvah. We make two blessings, one relating to the lighting itself, one recalling the miracles that took place, and then just as we reach out to light the candles, just as the Mitzvah that we have been building towards is about to be performed, we stop. We close our eyes for a moment and take a deep breath, and thank God for the last year. This blessing on novelty is unconcerned with the coming moment, whether it is over a new fruit, an old friend, or a new suit, it is purely concerned with the past. We cast our minds to all the fear filled moments that we have survived, all the panics and anxieties that have abated, all the dread that was unfounded and the terror that was endured; we have made it. With this sense of humility and appreciation we thank God, and we are now ready to engage with a new Mitzvah. If we combine these two suggestionsRabbi Nissims notion that the new moment brings us blessing, and Rabbi Etlingers idea that the moment makes us consider the last yearwe are left with a blessing of great significance, a moment of inner motion.
46

Rabbi Etlinger, 1798-1871, was a leading German rabbi who wrote a significant Talmudic commentary in addition to halachic writings.
47

In his commentary to BT Succah, 46

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Inasmuch as we invest Chanukah with meaning, Chanukah invests meaning in us. We do not sit on the periphery of this moment and witness its grandeur from the outside, blessing it as if seen from afar; we stand in the midst of this moment, absorbed by it and engaged with it. As we take note of the external shift, the onset of winter and the arrival of Chanukah, let us be sure to notice the internal drama, the appreciation of our own presence and the elation of Chanukah celebration. As the lights shine brightly toward the street let us feel the internal warmth of our hearts, as Chanukah penetrates our beings let us fill with gratitude and pride. On all nights, after lighting the first candle recite the following passage; many sing this passage. . , , . We light these candles because of the miracles and wonders, deliverances and victories, You performed for our ancestors in those days, at this time, through your holy priests. Throughout the eight days of Chanukah, these candles are holy And we are not permitted to make any use of them, except to look at them, that we may give thanks and praise to Your great name for Your miracles, Your wonders, and Your deliverances Hanerot Hallalu, a short passage first found in an old text called Masechet Soferim48, begins, We light these candles. The injunction to light Chanukah candles is remarkably

An eigth century work, written in the Land of Israel, which has a focus on matters related to prayer.

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rare in its nature, not simply for its Rabbinic origin, but for its familial context. In general, the commandments are incumbent either on the individual person or on the community. Obligations such as wearing Tefillin and making Kiddush on Shabbat apply to individuals and requirements such as reading the Torah and bringing sacrifices to the Temple fall upon the community as a whole. Very rarely is there a unit of significance found between the individual and the community, the I and the We. With Chanukah we are presented with an us, the family perhaps change to a household or as a mitzvah incumbent on a dwelling. The primary passage in the Talmud49 that relates to Chanukah begins its discussion with the phrase, The Mitzvah of Chanukah is the candle of each Man and his household. Bearing this in mind, we turn to one phrase in Hanerot Hallalu, in this complex passage, that stands out from the rest: These candles are holy, and we arent permitted to make any use of them, except to look at them. In the midst of victory, at the crux of celebration, we pause and stand at a distance. We look but cannot touch. The flames flicker playfully, they consume their fuel slowly and quietly, their reflections beckon to us from beyond the window, and we stand in song and then in silence and just look. Rabbi Joseph Soloveitchik50 once put it as follows, Ner Chanukah...is lit not to illuminate, but to address itself to us from the vast, dark spaces...Ner Chanukah is a ner ha-nireh merachok, a remote light51. We spend much of our lives looking beyond our reach. Our minds fill with images from around the globe; from warzones to refugee camps, from tsunami survivors to starving children, from flash floods to murderous rampages. Our minds eye is blinded by visions of death and destruction that we are powerless to change. As tears fill our eyes and we shield our children from the visual carnage, as we shout, appalled, at the television

49

BT Shabbat 21b

Rabbi Dr Joseph B.Soloveitchik, 1903-1993, was an outstanding Talmudist, halachist and philosopher who headed Yeshivat Rabeinu Yitzchak Elchanan of Yeshiva University in New York and the Maimonides High School in Boston, Mass. P.177, Days of Deliverance, ed. Eli.D Clark, Joel B,Wolowelsky and Reuven Ziegler , New York, 2007
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screen, at our friends, outraged by the atrocities that befall humankind, we are most angered by our distance. What can we do? As people lie bleeding to death, our cabinets sit full of plasters and bandages, as young children, pure and innocent, sit with their stomachs cramping from hunger, our shelves are stacked with all sorts of foods. How can we bear to sympathize? How much longer can we empathize? For how long can we stand useless and powerless in the face of such suffering? It is just at this moment in time, in the depth of winter, as nature has died and the world conspires against us, that we are confronted by the image of distance; we cannot use them, only see them. This image forces our attention inward, we are redirected from the global to the local, from the community to the home, to each person and household.

It is when nature is rendered impotent that we are charged with our capacity. We look around us, we see our families and our friends, our colleagues and our neighbours, those whose lives we can improve, those whom we have the power to move and impact, those within our reach. But as our hearts swell with passion and we reach out to those we love, we do so with an acute awareness of those who are in need of love, those who cannot be reached. Chanukah, of all the festivals, is the one of supreme public awareness, with the entire Mitzvah of candle lighting predicated on the notion of Pirsumei Nissa publicising the miracle. This inflection can also be seen through the Halachic requirements of the lighting itself; primarily its location and timing. The Talmud in one place52 points to the perfect timing as when there are people on the streets, and elsewhere53 the doorway is indicated as the preferable location for the candles; it must stand in the most visible position at the most visible time.

52

BT Shabbat 21b Masechet Soferim 20:3

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It is not simply that the candles must be at the most visible place, but they sit on the boundary. We pass them as we enter and we pass them as we leave, they condition our consciousness and mould our emotions as we move through life, whether in the realm of the private, of influence, or whether the realm of the public, the universal and global sphere. The timing is not at the peak of rush hour, but until all feet have left the market place. It is not just that we want our flames to glimmer outside, but we want those outside to carry the image with them, to bring it home. Chanukah puts us on the border, the very threshold between what is in our power and what is not, what is within our reach and what is beyond our ability. On the one hand we are drawn inward, directed to our household, while on the other our attention is to the world outside, those unknown, faceless members of the public. Our warmth, our light shines equally on both.

If we turn for just a moment to the Man of the Menorah, the man who perhaps best represents the burning candles, we sense this very same tension; the Biblical figure, Aaron the high priest and brother of Moses54. On the one hand, Aaron was an indoor person; he was insular and contained, quiet and collected, he stood as the head of the priestly order inside the Mishkan, the portable Temple in the desert. The Sanctuary was an exclusive location, a pure and restricted location; the Temple was a private and personal space. On the other hand if we look to our Sages portrait of Aaron we are presented with a radically different picture; Aaron was a man who loved peace and chased peace55. Aaron was a man unsatisfied with silence, unhappy with simply being here, always on the move, always chasing opportunities for more. As we stand in song looking contently into the flickering glow of the Chanukah candles, we engage both this drives, we strive to maintain this tension. We recall that it is we who light the candles, but we also recall those that we can see but not touch. We
54

see the commentaries of Rabbi Shlomo ben Yitzchak, 1040-1105,(acronym: Rashi) and Rabbi Moshe ben Nachman, 1190-1274 (acronym:Rambam) to Bemidbar (Numbers) 8:2
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BT Sanhedrin 6b

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remember how God granted salvation to our ancestors, to us; we joyfully celebrate how He helped the weak against the strong, the pure against the impure, and the few against the many. At this time we extend our natural embrace to our families and friends, to the us of Chanukah, yet we cast our minds to those beyond our scope. We think of those minorities still brutalised by the many, those weak still abused by the strong; we bless the candles and thank God for how he has blessed us, in the hope and with the prayer, that he spreads that blessing to others.

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AL HANISSIM FOR CHANUKAH by Rabbi Philip Ginsbury, formerly of South London United Synagogue The Al Hanissim prayer for Chanukah is appropriately inserted into the blessing of thanksgiving in the Amidah and similarly in Birkat Hamazon56. In common with all prayers celebrating national deliverance and victory over our enemies (compare the Shirat Ha-yam57 and the Song of Deborah58) we ascribe the success to G-ds intervention. At the same time, the heroism of Mattathias and his sons in their fight for religious freedom against the Hellenistic Syrians is also acknowledged. The prayer is beautifully constructed, with a series of similar sounding phrases that give it a sense of rhythmic poetry. The Hasmonean guerrillas faced two adversaries the Syrians who demanded uniformity of belief (in idolatry) and the large Hellenistic element among the Jews who wanted to reach an accommodation with them. So the reference to G-d delivering the strong into the power of the weak and the many into the hands of the few refers to the Maccabees overcoming their external enemy and the impure into the power of the pure and arrogant into the hands of the Torah observant is speaking of the triumph of the faithful Jews over the assimilated elements amongst them, who eventually became baalei teshuva59. Why did the Hasmoneans light the Menorah in the courtyard of the Temple, and not inside? According to Chatam Sofer60, so that everyone could witness the miracle, not just the Cohanim.

56

Grace after meals. Song at the Sea (see Exodus chapter 15). See Book of Judges chapter 5. Religious returnees.

57

58

59

Rabbi Moshe Sofer, 1762-1838, (also known as Chatam Sofer), was a prominent Halachist and Talmudist, especially famous for his rabbinate in Pressburg.

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Chanukah and the Enemy Within Rabbi Yisroel Fine, Cockfosters & North Southgate Synagogue Of the many festivals observed by the Jewish People; apart from those mentioned in the Torah, only two have survived the Destruction of the Temple. There is, however, a marked contrast between these festivals, as recorded in the Talmud. Purim has an entire volume devoted to it, whilst the entire story and ritual rules of Chanukah are contained in a few lines in Talmud Shabbat. The late Rabbi J.B. Soloveitchik, formerly head of Yeshiva Universitys Rabbinical Ordination programme in New York, suggests a most convincing reason as to why this is so. Firstly he notes that with the Romans we associate the word Churban (destruction) whilst with the Greeks the dominant theme is Tumah not destruction but defilement. What is the reason for this distinction? The Talmud states He who sees the burning of a Sefer Torah is duty bound to tear his garments twice; once for the parchment and once for the writing61 (Moed Katan 26a) and yet when Rabbi Chanania Ben Teradion is being burned to death and is asked by his students what it is he sees, he remarks The parchment is burned but the letters fly upwards, i.e. the letters are undamaged. What is the difference between these two cases? The answer is that in the latter case the Sefer Torah is being burned by a non-Jew. He has no ability to affect the text of the Torah. He can only destroy the parchment. In the former case, however, the Sefer Torah is being burned by a Jew. The Jew is capable not only of damaging the parchment but also damaging the words. Thus the Romans were capable only of destroying the physical. Therefore, the word associated with them is Churban destruction. On the other hand Tumah defilement in the spiritual sense means more than physical destruction; it implies damage to the text and the content of our faith. This is only possible by the act of a Jew. By highlighting Tumah as the theme of the machinations against us, the Rabbis are alluding to the fact that the true enemy was not the Greeks, who were only capable of Churban, but members of our own people, who sought to distort the message of Torah and to replace it with a defiled and Hellenised version. This is why in the Al Hanisim prayer we speak of The deliverance of the wicked into the hands of the righteous, but not The non-Jew into the hand of the Jew. Now we can understand why the Talmud kept the Chanukah story low-key. It is to our shame that the villains of the piece were from our own ranks.

61

Babylonian Talmud, Tractate Moed Katan page 26a.

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Bearing the above in mind, we can explain why the oil was defiled but not thrown out. The defiled oil symbolised the false doctrines of the Jewish Hellenists. Under other circumstances, there were Halachic dispensations for impure oil to be used. But in the light of the symbolism of the events, such a measure would run counter to all we believe in. We commemorate, therefore, the tenacity of those who refuse to yield. It is a matter of historical record that there is no trace left of those Hellenised Jews who sought to dilute their Judaism.

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Turning Points in Tanach (the Bible) Chanukah Rabbi Leo Dee, Assistant Rabbi at Hendon United Synagogue and adjunct faculty member at LSJS Chanukah is unique amongst the Jewish festivals in that it is the only major festival that is not included in the Tanach only the Apocrypha. In fact it missed the Tanach by over 300 years. The story of Chanukah appears in the First Book of Maccabees and is described in Megillat Taanit and the Babylonian Talmud (Tractate Shabbat). But whilst it may not qualify as Tanach, Chanukah certainly qualifies as a turning point for the Jewish people. Despite the military victory of the Maccabees, the Talmud focuses mostly on the miracle of the oil that lasted for eight days. Why do we not hear more about the details of the battles from our traditional texts? Perhaps it was because the fight was not just Jew against Greek, but also Jew against Jew. According to the Apocrypha, Hellenised Jews of the time (165 BCE) not only invited the Greeks into Jerusalem, but openly abandoned Jewish laws and traditions, going to far as to try to reverse their circumcisions. Had it not been for the Maccabees, it is unlikely that Jewish tradition would be forgotten today; more likely that it would appear as a module on a Religious Studies curriculum in University. The Greeks were not against the intellectual study of philosophy (or even religion) per se - they were against the practice of a different lifestyle and against the enlightenment that it could bring. When we light the Chanukah candles, we are not so much remembering the battle of Jew against Greek, nor the battle to study Torah, but rather the battle to live a Jewish life and enlighten ourselves and the world with a different set of values to the secular masses. So Chanukah not Tanach but certainly a Turning Point!

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Chanukah Begins At Home Rabbi Nissan Wilson, Clayhall United Synagogue Reproduced by kind permission of the Clayhall United Synagogue magazine Ringing, beeping, buzzing. NOISE!!! You have had enough. All day long at work phones were ringing, computers were beeping, machines were buzzing. The office closed, you fled the building, onto the tube and more ringing, beeping, buzzing. But now you are finally home, you close the door, sink into the armchair and something buzzes, then something rings. The blackberry or the landline, which one should you take first? Whatever happened to home sweet home? It seems like there can be no peace or tranquillity as long as your mobile phone has reception. There must be some place we can go for a little peace and quiet? The home must be that place. If the home is not a haven, if the front door does not shut out the madness, then it is time to re-evaluate the type of place we want our home to be. In times gone by, the Chanukah lights were lit outside the front door, shining out into the public thoroughfare. Today, however, most of us light the Chanukah Menorah inside the house, out of public view. Why has the custom changed? The Shulchan Aruch, the major Code of Jewish Law62, tells us that where possible, the Menorah should face out onto a public place, but where there is any threat or danger, it should be placed out of view. Given the possibility of vandalism or malicious fire damage, we still light the Menorah inside, even in the lawful society of the UK. Yet there is a much deeper significance behind this development. The Jewish home should be an oasis of sanctity, a place where the door can be shut to the madness of the street and the frenzy of the marketplace. We should come home at the end of the day, out of the darkness and into the warm light of our own Jewish home. If every home was such a spiritual utopia, there would be enough light to illuminate the dark world outside too. We could each place our Menorah by the door and beam our radiant light into the streets beyond. Nowadays, though, when we take a candid look, we are often forced to admit that our homes could do with some brightening up. In such times, the Menorah is best placed inside, where it can light up the home and rekindle the spark in our souls63.

Written by Rabbi Joseph Caro (1488-1575), in Safed, Israel. See Section Orach Chayim 671:5 for the full citation of this ruling. See Sefat Emet by Rabbi Yehuda Leib Alter, the second Gerer Rebbe, 1847-1905. The reference here is to Bereishit, page 199.
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Yes, sanctity begins at home, not in the synagogue or study hall but at home. This message is striking. Start at home; place your Menorah on a table in your front room and feel its sweet light filling the entire house. Let the light shine through to the synagogue, the school, the study hall, communal and work areas. The late great Rabbi Shlomo Zalman Auerbach (1910-1995) of Jerusalem once returned home from his Yeshiva accompanied by a young student. Before entering his house, Rabbi Auerbach straightened his clothes making sure that he looked neat and respectable. The student was puzzled. Rabbi he asked, most people tidy their hair and their clothes before they leave the house to go out. Why do you do just the opposite? Young man, the rabbi replied, the Talmud says that when there is peace in a home the Divine Presence dwells in that home. In my home there is no marital strife, no arguing and no bickering. In this house there is Torah study and mitzvah observance, peace and love. So I believe that my home is graced with the Divine Presence. It is only right, then, that I make sure I am appropriately dressed before entering such a sacred place. When we return home each day, we should feel as though we have come to the most spiritual place on earth. We can learn to shut the door, leaving behind the outside world and allowing the inner world its fullest expression. This year on Chanukah, come in out of the cold. Let us shut out the darkness and kindle the lights of own our souls. May the Almighty see our efforts and bless our homes.

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Chanukah
Rabbi Dr Moshe Freedman, Northwood United Synagogue There are many thematic connections between the story of Joseph, which we read in shul on Shabbat during the period of Chanukah, and the festival of Chanukah itself. One episode in particular reflects the very essence of Chanukah and contains a stunningly beautiful message for our times. After arriving in Egypt, Joseph is sold by the Midianite merchants to Potifar who appoints him as overseer of his entire house. Josephs good looks catch the attention of Potifars wife and she begins to seduce him. Day after day she tries to persuade him to succumb to her advances. He refuses categorically exclaiming that such behaviour is a grave sin against God. The Torah tells us that on a particular day, Joseph came to the house to perform his work. The Talmud64 records a disagreement between Rav and Shmuel regarding the nature of this work. One held that it simply means that he went to perform his daily duties in the house, whereas the other held that work is a euphemism meaning to surrender to his temptations. That day was an Egyptian festival, and everyone had gone to perform idol worship. Potifars wife had feigned illness and remained at home alone in order to trap Joseph. As Joseph entered the house, Potifars wife caught his garment and said lie with me. The Talmud65 explains that just as Joseph was about to give in, an image of Jacob appeared in the window of the house saying Joseph, your brothers will have their names inscribed upon the stones of the breastplate of the high priest, and your name is among them. Do you want your name expunged from amongst theirs and to be called someone who associates with harlots? At that moment, Joseph regained his strength to resist and fled outside. While the story seems simple enough, there is great depth to this episode; Jacobs appearance in a window carries enormous significance. A window usually allows light to come from the outside to illuminate the inside of our homes. In the context of the Gemara, this is symbolic of Joseph allowing external modes of behaviour to influence him. Promiscuity was a social norm in ancient Egypt and Joseph was moments from allowing that immoral way of life to influence his actions. His father appeared in a window to remind him that his responsibility was to resist the influence of Egyptian behaviour.

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Babylonian Talmud (BT), Tractate Sotah 36b. The Babylonian Talmud is the big book of Jewish law and ethics. Ibid

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But just as a window can allow external light in, it also allows light from the inside to shine out. On Chanukah we light candles in our homes to remember our victory over the spiritual assault against our people, and our resistance to the influences of Greek culture. The Chanukah candles represent our responsibility to avoid assimilating the negative social mores of our time and assert our identity as a holy nation. May we all learn to shine our light through our windows into the world, to fulfil our role as an Ohr LaGoyim a light unto the nations.

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