Merging history, custom and halachah

Though some like to suggest that the Hebrew word Chanukah can be read as “Chanu kaf heh” meaning that they rested (after the Maccabean war) on the 25th (day of Kislev), the simple meaning of the word Chanukah is “dedication”. For following the recapture of the temple from the hands of the Seleucid Greeks, the temple was indeed rededicated and its purity ensured with the assistance of undefiled pure oil.

The Talmud however goes further in answering this age-old question. In classic Talmudic analytical style, the sages highlighted two key elements of the miracle: the victory of the few over the many and the fact that the little flask of ritually-pure oil caused the menorah to remain alight for eight days.

A further element was the philosophical victory, the achievement of which was a primary purpose of the revolt. Thus we read in the Al Hanissim prayer that the revolt took place “when the wicked kingdom rose up against your people Israel to make them forget your Torah and to compel them to depart from the statutes of your will”.

For as becomes clear from relevant sources including those of the Apocrypha, first and foremost in the minds of those who raised the banner of revolt was the need to redress the situation whereby alien philosophies and practices were supplanting the traditions of the forefathers. Hellenistic culture was replacing that of Judaism.

Yes, Chanukah commemorates a military victory. But that aside, Chanukah symbolises the triumph of the spirit – the spirit of Judaism. And in this regard it is particularly illuminating (no pun intended) to ponder on the mode of its celebration.

Despite the contemporary universal practice of lighting one lamp on the first night and culminating in eight on the eighth night, the Talmud tells that the basic requirement is simply to light one lamp per household (in addition to those normally lit). This alone is sufficient to publicise the miracle – the action which is the basic mitzvah of Chanukah.

The Talmud however then continues to say that those who are “mehadrin” – particular to beautify the mitzvah – light one lamp per person. But, adds the Talmud, “mehadrin min hamehadrin” – the most particular and meticulous in regard to the beautification of practice – light as we do from one to eight (or, according, to the discarded view of Beth Shammai, eight on the first night down to one on the eighth night, but still involving many more lamps than one per night).

Yet today does anyone do other than this practice described as “mehadrin min hamehadrin”? Why has such become the norm?

Perhaps the best answer can be found in the approach of the Chatam Sofer to the concept of minhag – custom – in Jewish practice.

A pivotal aspect of his fight against the inroads into Judaism of alien philosophies in 19th-century Europe was to strengthen the requirement to fulfil not only basic law, but also custom.

He strongly believed that when religious practice was endangered it was insufficient to “go out and practise that which is required”. The impingement of alien philosophy would inevitably encroach on our actions.

And so he ruled: “Minhag Yisrael Torah hu – the customs of Israel are Torah.” It was necessary to emphasise custom – fences around the law and enhancement of it – in order to ensure the survival of that which is essential.

The Chanukah lights symbolises both “ner mitzvah veTorah ohr” that observance is a candle while the Torah is light – in addition to the specific aspect of victory of Jewish spirit over foreign encroachment.

In this fight, only minhag according to the greatest level of hiddur can ensure the long-term victory of the Jewish spirit.

Interestingly, in our times circumstances have now created a situation where this is even more crucial.

Albeit that this year the secular date of Chanukah is comparatively early in contemporary western countries, Chanukah tends to coincide with the time that the commercial world and its media feature aspects of culture alien to Judaism. Living in a multicultural society gives us many freedoms.

Yet simultaneously it challenges us to maintain the integrity of our culture in the face of the danger of the insidious penetration of foreign ideas. In that context, it is particularly important that religious practice be implemented at the highest level in order to maintain its integrity.

One further thought. In Chanukah – Capturing the Light (Mosaica Press, 2020) Rabbi Immanuel Bernstein notes that the word “Chanukah” also implies “initiation”, the beginning of a process. That process was the war on the Seleucid Greeks (and that culture of Hellenism which they represented) which would continue in different forms and guises in the centuries and millennia that followed. And so he concludes that the crucial implication of this idea for the festival of Chanukah is that its goal is not only to commemorate the initial victory “bayamim hahem baz’man hazeh – in those days at this time” but to perpetuate it as long as it continues to be required in our times.

Every year on Chanukah the spiritual light, energy and inspiration that illuminated the way towards that initial victory returns to be taken up anew; so doing is our sacred task.

While fighting and achieving their victory, the Maccabees did not forget, in the words of Zechariah (4:6) in the haftarah read on Shabbat Chanukah: “lo bechayil velo bekoach ki im beruchi – not with might, not with strength but with my spirit” can one maintain the fibre and backbone of a nation.

As the Maccabees did for generations of old, observance in detail of all the practices of Chanukah should bring home to both adults and children where we stand relative to the society that surrounds us and its norms.

Shabbat shalom
VeChanukah sameach
Yossi.

Yossi Aron OAM is The AJN’s religious affairs editor