Hanukkah’s Ambiguity- Mikketz/Shabbat Hanukkah 5785

I’ve been thinking lately how poetic it is that we read the story of Joseph during Hanukkah. This Shabbat in parshat Mikketz, Joseph truly comes into his own in terms of power and influence. By interpreting Pharaoh’s dreams which foretell seven years of plenty followed by seven years of famine, Joseph is able to engage in some social engineering that will ensure the survival of Egypt and cement his own power as Pharaoh’s second-in-command. In the process, he begins the gradual process of reconciliation with his brothers, who so severely mistreated him.

There is an ambiguity we can feel with regards to our parsha: on the one hand, Joseph’s trajectory from prisoner to practically Pharaoh in all but name saves him from a terrible fate, and allows Egypt to both remain fed during the seven years of famine as well as grow rich, since he is all too willing to sell the surplus grain to others that the Egyptians don’t need. 

On the other hand, it’s this very process, we learn later, by which the Israelites descend to Egypt and are eventually enslaved by a Pharaoh “that did not know Joseph”. Moreover, while we might cheer at Joseph’s triumph, we could also find fault with his own harsh treatment of his brothers after they trek to Egypt to buy grain.

The holiday of Hanukkah, too, allows us to feel ambiguity and perhaps even a degree of ambivalence. Are we celebrating a great military victory over the Seleucid Greeks and their emperor Antiochus, or are we commemorating the miracle of a single cruse of oil lasting for eight days before new oil could be prepared for the refurbished temple? What, exactly, are we celebrating?

The events of the Hanukkah story are not found in the Tanakh- they took place after it was canonized- yet there does exist a first and second book of Maccabees that is considered part of the apocrypha, or books that were left out of the canonized version of the bible. In addition, Josephus Flavius’ account of the events in his incredible work The Jewish War gives us a vivid description of the events of Hanukkah. If we delve deeper into Jewish history, we can take pride in the revolt of the Hasmoneans- the Maccabees- and their quest for Jewish religious freedom in what was then known as Judea. 

However, just a few generations after the victory of the Maccabees, the land would fall under the control of Rome, and there would be internal strife between factions of Hellenized Jews, who were influenced by the modernity of Greek culture, and those who held fast to the old ways. The holy oil would again be defiled when the Second Temple was destroyed in year 70 C.E., yet the observance of Hanukkah would endure. 

It’s clear that the rabbis of the Talmud made the choice with regards to Hanukkah to emphasize the miracle of the oil, rather than the military victory. The holiday is not discussed a great deal in the Talmud, and the rabbis even ask what it is that we are supposed to celebrate. We learn in tractate Shabbat, page 21b:

[The Gemara asks:] What is Hanukkah? The Sages taught: On the twenty-fifth of Kislev, the days of Hanukkah are eight. One may not eulogize on them and one may not fast on them. The Gemara explains the reason for this: When the Greeks entered the Sanctuary they defiled all the oils that were in the Sanctuary. And when the Hasmonean monarchy overcame them and emerged victorious over them, they searched and found only one cruse of oil that was placed with the seal of the High Priest, and there was sufficient oil there to light the candelabrum for only one day. A miracle occurred and they lit the candelabrum from it for eight days. The next year the Sages instituted those days and made them holidays with recitation of hallel and special thanksgiving in prayer and blessings.

So, according to the Talmud, it seems like we should emphasize the miracle of the oil and relegate the military victory of the Maccabees to the background. There’s one piece of the story, though, that’s missing here which makes our celebration less clear-cut: Hanukkah, in its original incarnation, was a belated commemoration of Sukkot! Due to the defilement of the Temple and the ongoing military campaign, Sukkot was unable to be properly observed at its appointed time. It’s also notable that Sukkot, a holiday which lasts seven days and includes as part of its liturgy an almost military-like procession around the sanctuary while chanting “hoshanah!” (“save us!), does appear to have some commonality with Hanukkah.

To sum up, there are several things which we commemorate at Hanukkah, some of which we choose to emphasize more than others. To return to the miracle of the oil, the custom developed that each person or household should light oil lamps during Hanukkah to commemorate it. But even this raises questions: we learn that each person should kindle lights for themselves during Hanukkah, and those who are really strict (like we do today!) adjust the number of lights they kindle on each day of the holiday. Seems simple enough, right?

However, the questions don’t end there: we learn on the same page of Talmud that Hillel and Shammai, two great rabbis who were both study partners and rivals, disagree on how to light our menorahs, or hanukkiot. Shammai says that on the first day we light eight candles, then seven on day 2, six on day 3, etc., thereby decreasing in light as the holiday progresses. Hillel, on the other hand, prescribes the opposite approach of starting with one candle and adding another for each day, which is our custom today.

The act of lighting Hanukkah candles this week, I believe, is to both mirror Joseph’s progression to power in our parsha and combat the darkness, literal and figurative, that envelops the world. At the beginning of our parsha, Joseph remains alone in jail, forgotten by the chief wine steward whose dream he interpreted previously. By the end of our parsha, Joseph is the most powerful individual in all of Egypt, save for Pharaoh himself, doling out grain to those who are hungry and ensuring that the wealth and resources of Egypt continue to grow. When things appear to be as dire and hopeless as they can be, there is suddenly a spark of hope. 

At Hanukkah, we very purposefully bring light into the darkest part of the year. Having passed the winter solstice a week ago, the days, believe it or not, are becoming ever so incrementally lighter. In the face of uncertainty, antisemitism, war, and just plain cold and gloom, the act of lighting a candle and engaging in perhaps the most visible and familiar Jewish custom to outsiders is to create a sign of hope and Jewish resilience. 

But simply lighting the candles isn’t enough; we are commanded to engage in the mitzvah of pirsum ha’nes, publicizing the Hanukkah miracle. Today, we do this by placing our hanukkiot in the window, so that those outside may take note and realize that this is our season of miracles.

In addition, in each Amidah during Hanukkah, we add a special paragraph- “al Hanisim”, “for the miracles”- which encapsulates for me the several (perhaps contrasting) things we remember during this season. It reads: 

“[We thank You] for the miracles, for the redemption, for the mighty deeds, for the deliverances and for the wars that You performed for our fathers in those days at this season.

Some, including myself, have the custom of saying as part of the nightly Hanukkah blessings “she’asah nisim lavoteinu bayamim hahem U’vazman hazeh”- “Blessed are You, G-d, who performed miracles for our ancestors in those days AND IN THIS TIME”. G-d continues to perform miracles for us today, just as they were with Joseph in prison in Egypt and redeems him through Pharaoh. So too may we all continue to experience the light of G-d’s deeds and feel G-d working in the world as we celebrate Hanukkah this year.