More than two millennia ago, the Syrian-Hellenist army came to Israel.
They told the indigenous Jews that they, as Hellenists, were peaceful people. The Jews had nothing to fear, they told us, as these invaders only sought enlightenment and beauty. The two peoples actually lived well together for a short time. Then the Syrian-Hellenist bias came to the fore. They couldn’t stomach the Jews’ stubborn adherence to their traditional faith, practices and rituals. They abhorred our deep-seated Jewish faith in G-d and Holiness.
So the Syrian-Hellenists began a campaign to make us change our ways, asking us to shed our traditions and join their culture of ‘friendship and amity’. Some Jews went along with it, placing higher value on ‘getting along’ than on being themselves. Other Jews, while they welcomed the Syrians-Hellenists to the neighborhood, refused to abandon their own Judaic value system.
That brought out the worst in our Syrian-Hellenist conquerors. They decided to force their ‘peaceful philosophy’ on our people, butchering our men and raping our women. The Syrian-Hellenist army was huge, like a tidal wave engulfing the Jews, and we were no match for them. How could we cling to our faith in the face of such an overwhelming reality?
A small group of Jews recognized that we are never alone. They would fight back. Their war wouldn’t be a simple match of military prowess, it would be a righteous stand against intolerance and bigotry. They stood up in self-defense, in an epic struggle for the freedom to find G-d through our Torah.
And won.
For two thousand years, we’ve been celebrating their victory, our victory, as a triumph of faith over adversity. It’s the celebration of Chanukah. This coming Sunday evening, we’ll be kindling candles that represent the flame of connectedness which burns deep inside our souls. On Chanukah, we bring our Jewish conviction into the open through kindling the Menorah.
Sometimes our inner flare of faith feels suffocated by the Hellenism of the moment. Right now, it feels less safe to be a Jew walking the streets of Copenhagen, Los Angeles or Paris; but we can’t allow that to squelch our timeless flame of connectedness.
If Jewish history has taught us anything, it’s that our connection to Jewish tradition is an anchor that allows us to weather any storm.
So be engaged in the societal discourse and make your voice heard.
But make sure your faith shines.