Sermons
'Hanukkah: On Darkness, Struggle, Courage and Hope'
December 9, 2001"Hanukkah: On Darkness, Struggle, Courage and Hope"
A Sermon by Charles Blustein Ortman
December 9, 2001
At the Unitarian Church of Montclair
67 Church Street, Montclair, New Jersey 07042
973-744-6276 WWW.UUMontclair.org
We've now entered the Holiday Season of 2001. This year everything's going to be a bit different and maybe we need the holidays now more than ever. Maybe we'll take the opportunity to gain from them, even more than we have in past years.
When the sun sets this evening, the date on the Jewish calendar will be the 25th of Chislev. The Festival of Lights, the holiday to commemorate the miracle of the lamp that burned for eight days, will begin. Many of us are at least somewhat familiar with the story of Hanukkah.
According to Arthur Wascov, Jewish historian and writer, Hanukkah dates back to the struggle led by the Maccabees—a family from the priestly tribe—against the Hellenistic overseers of the Land of Israel and against Hellenized Jews, from 169 to 166 B.C.E.
The Maccabean war was a fusion of anti-colonial war and civil war. Antiochus Epiphanes, the King of the Syrian branch of Alexander the Great's empire, had decreed that all local religions, including Judaism, be rooted out. Jewish customs, including laws regarding circumcision, kosher food, and Shabbat were outlawed on pain of death. Pagan rituals and sacrifices were instituted at the Holy Temple in Jerusalem and in shrines throughout the land. Many Jews, filled with admiration for the worldly wisdom and power of Hellenistic culture, followed the direction and obeyed the decrees of Antiochus.
But others were filled with anger at the oppressive decrees and with revulsion at the cooperation of their compatriots. They rallied under the leadership of Mattathias the priest and of his five sons—who came to be called the Maccabees. Maccabee means hammer. After three years of guerrilla warfare against the regular armies of Antiochus, the Maccabean forces won. Now led by Judah Maccabee, they recaptured Jerusalem in 166 B.C.E., and set out to rededicate their Holy Temple.
When the Temple was in order, there was enough oil to keep the lamp lit for only one day. As the story goes, the lamp was lit, and the one-day supply of oil somehow burned for the eight days it took for the new supply of oil to be rendered.
Engaging in a story about militarism at a time such as this, I feel that there's some call for just a few disclaimers. 5,000 years later we are still witness to (even partisans in) the current manifestation of warfare among competing tribes and nations in the Middle East. We have cause to be weary of celebrating any stories that glorify or honor warring animosity with roots that run so deep in antiquity.
Warfare is too often exalted as an sign of religious fidelity. It doesn't seem to be much of a spiritual or a religious solution to conflict, though. It seems more like an expedient and noncreative response to humanity's shortcomings.
This isn't even a Jewish congregation. We are Unitarian Universalists. What business do we have celebrating a Jewish story at all?
This isn't a Jewish congregation, but over a third of our membership comes from Jewish roots. This story does have organic roots for many of us here. Even beyond our familial connections, Unitarian Universalism draws on all the great world religions; we draw our inspiration wherever we might find it so that we might be moved, "…to a renewal of the spirit and an openness to the forces that create and uphold life…"
There are no human lives that are lived in perfection, no human stories without their shortcomings. Our task is to reach through the imperfections to find what will sustain, inspire and uplift us. Our task is to claim that which will lift us up and through our limitations. Our task is to be most fully who we are becoming.
For 5,000 years the story of Hannukah has provided many with inspiration, hope and courage in facing life's challenges. So what are some of the lessons we might draw from this story? What are some of its symbols that might help us – 5,000 years later? Stories with such durability often do have a lot to offer. What might this one offer us?
The elements of the story include a downtrodden people who have been subjugated by an overpowering and evil empire. They are denied their identity and their right to practice the rites of their faith. The very heart of their religious home – the Temple, which houses the Torah – has been taken over and defiled. Many of the once faithful begin to lose their way, even identifying with their captors.
Darkness abounds. The story is filled with darkness. The light in the hearts of the people is nearly extinguished. They are all but defeated.
Yet, even when things are at their very bleakest, when the struggle seems most insurmountable, courage is found and hope rekindled. And from that small light of hope, the people learn once again who they are. They learn to claim and take their place in the world. What was lost is found, and out of the great darkness a miracle of great light shines forth. And so that we won't mistake the importance of this light and the significance of the miracle, it is framed in an octave of eight days.
Eight is a number that symbolizes a spiritual completion. It is the beginning beyond the end, the note that completes the scale it begins. In its own way, this story from the Book of Maccabees tells us to pay attention to the elements of the story because its outcome is one that could hold great significance for us. The course of the story is one that guides us on a path into the darkness; there to struggle, to take courage, to build hope and eventually to celebrate light and completion.
This story might be about a particular culture and its journey. But it might also be a universal story, about any culture, about any person, guiding those who would hear it through the inevitable and difficult passages of a lifetime.
The holidays are going to be different this year. Everything is different since September 11th. We have an extra heaping of darkness. Are we willing to engage it? Do we have the courage to struggle with it?
"It is important that we be strengthened by the wisdom of our grievings," writes Tess Gallagher.
I've been in ministry for over a dozen years now. Before that I was a social worker. Based on my professional experiences, as well as my own personal experience, I can tell you that most of us are scared to death by our grievings.
We don't want to deal with them. We want to have dealt with them. Time after time, people, when struggling with their life issues say, "I can't believe that I haven't moved on further down the road. I thought I'd be through with these issues by now. When will I just be able to just get over it?"
I think maybe getting over something depends on our being able to get into it. The Jews who began to take up the ways of the Greeks didn't bring about the miracle of the lights. It was the ones who had the courage to struggle with and in the darkness, who brought hope. It was the ones who were willing to risk their lives and their lifestyles who made the difference in that dark time.
The story of Hanukkah gives us a personal reminder to take courage, to have hope, to go the struggle and to find our way through the darkness to the light. We each have our own life issues that we must face over and over, and over again, until we go deeply enough, darkly enough, to accept who we are in those struggles and there to find the light.
And more than the personal reminder, Hanukkah can also be a reminder to we the people. I hope you know that I'm always preaching to myself as much as I'm preaching to you. And I've got to tell you that, as we enter this holiday season, I'm already tired. I'm tired of the fallout from September 11th. I'm tired of our war that has no clear enemy and far too many innocent victims. I'm tired of the Israelis and the Palestinians using religion as an excuse for self-serving agendas of terrorism and violence. I'm tired of humanity's inability to recognize that none of us is saved or even safe, unless we are all saved or safe. When will we be able to just get over it?
In the days of old, Judah Maccabee looked to find what was blocking the light and he found it to be the Syrian King. I'm afraid we've outgrown that solution today. Yes, there are evil princes, and they need to be put out of the Temple. But, if we are going to struggle truly to create hope for this world, aren't we going to have to have the courage to confront ourselves and a lifestyle that promotes darkness through abuse and depletion of the world's resources? Aren't we going to have to have the courage to face up to a system of privilege that is based in racism. Aren't we going to have to have the courage to deal with economic realities that support our standard of living at the cost of virtual slavery for others?
Why can't we just get over it? If we are going to get over this difficult chapter in history, we are first going to have to go into it much more than we've been willing so far. We are going to have to question some of the unspoken and darker premises upon which our culture depends. All the wonderful things we have earned and achieved are things that we've worked so hard to accomplish. How can we question our earned comfort and security? Perhaps the darker and more compelling question is: How can we not?
We're talking about some pretty dark things here. Are we willing to risk our lifestyles and our lives? Are we willing to go into the darkness to see what's there – to see what might be blocking the light?
Mathew Fox writes,
"The sun does not penetrate all of space. Much of space is dark. Much of the birth of the cosmos itself was done in the dark – the sun has not always existed. The seed under ground is growing in the dark no less than the fetus in the mother's womb. All mystery is about the dark. All darkness is about mystery."
These are dark times in which we live. If we are going to live in them well – with integrity and courage – we are going to have to learn to find our way around in the dark…that is, if we are going to promote miracles of light. Denial of the dark won't make it go away. Denial can only keep us from knowing what must be done.
As we enter the Holiday season this year, we do know a lot more than we have in years past. We know that we are not the only actors on the global stage. We act and we are acted upon. No action occurs in isolation. We are beginning to know more about a universal morality that disavows personal and colloquial claims of spirituality or religiosity. We are in this all together. That, which unduly burdens any of us, unduly burdens us all. That, which truly upholds any of one us, upholds us all.
We have entered the Holiday Season of 2001. The holidays will be different this year. We are going to need them, perhaps more than ever. And maybe, we'll take the opportunity to learn from them, even more than we have in past years.
Hannukah is the Festival of Lights. It is a festival that is reached through struggle and courage, on the road through darkness leading to hope.
At the beginning of our service we invoked the traditional words for lighting the menorah, "Baruch ata Adonai, Eloheinu melech ha'olam. Asher kid'shanu b'mitzvotav, V'tsivanu, L'hadlik ner shel Chanukah." Let us translate these words in this way: Blessed art thou, Spirit of Life, giver of the universe, who challenges us to kindle the Hanukkah lights.
The story of Hanukkah gives us a personal reminder and a collective reminder to take courage, to have hope, to go the struggle and to find our way through the darkness to the light. We each have, we all have our life issues that we must face over and over again, until we go deeply enough, darkly enough, to accept who we are in these struggles and there to find our light.
May we then be the kindlers of the Hanukkah lights.
May they shine on us, guiding us onward.