“That’s for your Christmas,” my neighbor insisted, after I explained to her that the menorah on the table was a hanukkiah, not a Christmas candelabra.
“No,” I said,”It’s not. It’s for Hanukkah.”
“Right. Your Christmas.” She smiled her tolerant smile.
“It’s a different thing,” I started. But she had made up her mind.
Sitting next to me on the plane, the seminary student complained that he didn’t understand Jews. ”Why do they do Hanukkah?” he asked, “It’s not even in the Bible.”
He was visibly surprised when I told him that the New Testament makes reference to Hanukkah. The word Hanukkah means “dedication”. During the Feast of Dedication (Hanukkah) Jesus declared himself to be the promised Messiah, God in the flesh (John 10:22-23).
So, what do you know about Hanukkah? Do you think of it as a “Jewish Christmas”? Is it something “they” do? You may be surprised how relevant Hanukkah is to all freedom-loving people!
Over three hundred years before the birth of Jesus, Israel was called Judea. Jews lived under the rule of one leader after another. They lived in peace, loved their families, and had joys and hardships, the same as everybody else. They worshiped God, and offered sacrifices to him in the temple in Jerusalem.
An oil lamp—called ner tamid, “the fire that never goes out”– burned in the temple. God commanded that this light always burn with the clearest oil squeezed from olives (Lev. 24:1-4).
The Greek army, ruled by Antiochus IV, conquered the country of Syria. Together, the armies of Greece and Syria conquered Judea (Israel).
Once Antiochus took over, things changed for Jews. Antiochus called himself Epiphanes, which means “god incarnated”, and demanded worship. Greek idols defiled even the sacred temple of God, where a pig was sacrificed to Zeus on the altar. Hebrew names became Greek names. Young women were assaulted by soldiers before being allowed to marry. Circumcised babies were murdered. All people were commanded to worship the idols and Antiochus. Men who refused were killed. Women and children were taken as slaves.
Some obeyed. Many fled Jerusalem, but the armies followed. From village to village, they advanced, demanding all worship Antiochus, and his idols.
When they reached Modin, they learned that an old priest named Mattathias, along with his five sons, led the people. In an effort to gain the people’s support, the soldiers offered Mattathias special favor and wealth if he would sacrifice a pig to their idol, and eat some of the sacrifice. Mattathias refused. Another Jewish man offered to do it, and Mattathias struck him down, knocked over the idol, and shouted, “Whoever is on the LORD’s side, follow me!”
The villagers took the weapons away from the soldiers and killed them. Those who were on God’s side fled with Mattathias into the mountains. The mountains opened to give the people of God refuge. Later, others, including a handful of Gentiles, joined the rebel band, and soon they had a small army.
When Mattathias died, his son Judah led the people against the armies of Antiochus. Judah was called The Macabee, “the hammer”. His followers were called Macabees.
During one battle, the Macabees were sorely outnumbered. The highest commanders of the Greek and Syrian armies personally took charge. They left nothing to chance. Slave traders even followed with cages and chains to carry off the beaten Macabees. They left with none.
With God as their strength, the Macabees ambushed the powerful armies, killing thousands and sending the rest running! The Macabees marched into Jerusalem to take back the temple.
When they got there, they were crestfallen. The once beautiful temple was filthy and violated. They tore their clothes, put ashes on their heads, blew the shofar, and cried out to God with their faces to the ground. Then they got to work.
The priests cleaned the temple. They dismantled the altar that had been desecrated, and built a new one. Not wanting to discard the old alter, because it had once been sacred, they buried it under the temple.
One small jar of consecrated oil was found in the rubble. Only enough for one day’s light. The anniversary of the day that Antiochus decreed to abolish all things Jewish was approaching. The people weren’t sure what to do. Should they light the ner tamid on that day, and then let it go out? Or should they wait until more oil could be prepared? They decided to light the menorah, and rededicated the temple, taking a date significant to pagans, and reclaiming it for God. They celebrated with worship and praise, music and dancing. They gave a clean sacrifice on the newly built altar. It was 25 Kislev on the Jewish calendar.
At the end of the day, they expected the oil to run out, but it kept burning. And the next day. And the next. And the next. For eight days, until more oil was ready, the ner tamid never went out.
Judah Macabee declared that from that day forward, every 25th of Kislev would begin a joyful, eight day celebration in remembrance of the deliverance of God’s people, and the miracle of the oil.
For eight days, we light candles or oil lamps, and we eat foods cooked in oil. We dance and sing praise to the One True God, the King of the Universe, for his miracles, his deliverances and his wonders.
Non-Messianic Jews prepare their hearts and homes for the coming of Messiah and his Kingdom. Messianic Jews, and some Gentile Christians, prepare for the return of Jesus and his Kingdom.
So when you hear about Hanukkah, don’t think of it as something “they” do. Remember the miracles. Remember the faithful martyrs and overcomers. Remember the One True God, and prepare your heart to meet him.
And please, whatever you do, don’t call it a “Jewish Christmas”.
“It’ll bring you money,” Mom said every New Year’s Day, dishing up a plate of black-eyed peas. “Has it ever brought you money?” I’d ask. “Well, not yet,” she’d grin.
