REsources for Living
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Have you seen the musical Into the Woods? It’s a Broadway show in which a variety of storybook characters—Little Red Riding Hood, Cinderella, Jack (of the Beanstalk), etc.—meet up together in an adventure in the woods, which ends with the kind of happily-ever-after weddings and wealth and long-awaited babies that you expect from the end of a fairy tale.
Except that all that happens in the first act. The second act shows what happens after happily ever after, when wedded bliss turns to boredom and the giant comes back for his stolen property. The story that happens after the end of the story turns out to be rather more complicated than the first act finale, and the happiness at the end is not so simple and clear.
The Hanukkah story, it turns out, is rather like that. You probably remember the story of the Maccabees, and how they gathered a band of fellow Jews to fight back against the ruling government that was oppressing them. You have likely heard the story of their heroic and improbable victory, and how, after long years of battle, they were able to return to their Temple, clear away all the desecration and damage, and return to the free practice of their religion.
What you might not have heard is the story that comes after the story. We tend not to mention, in that time between lighting candles and eating latkes when stories are told, that the Hebrew victory didn’t last very long. We never get around to talking about the second act, where it turns out that not only was it not very long before the Jewish lands were occupied territory again, but also that later rebellions, modeled on the Maccabean revolt, turned out to be dismal failures which left the Jewish people worse off than they were before.
However, the story of the oil that burned in the sacred temple lamp for eight days when there was only enough oil to last for one day comes from this “second act” time in history. The legend of the miraculous oil came along not during the time of the victory, but rather during a later time of defeat. And the second act story carries a far different message. The first act story of the Hebrew victory over the Syrians says that if you are brave enough and determined enough then you can make things turn out all right. If you can be daring and strong and hold fast to your faith then you will win in the end. It’s a good message, one that parents like to teach their children.
Unfortunately, the painful lessons of life teach us that that lovely message isn’t always true. Sometimes the bad guys win. Sometimes your best efforts aren’t enough to make things turn out the way you’d hoped. Anyone who has lost a hard-fought baseball game or political election knows this is so. Sometimes life is flat-out unfair, and people win by cheating, or go to jail for crimes that they didn’t commit. Doing your best is simply no guarantee that everything will be fine. Which is why the second act of the Hanukkah story needs a different message, the message of the oil that kept burning long after it should have been gone.
That story says something very different than “If you just try hard enough then you will win.” The story of the lamp that wouldn’t go out says something much more like: “Hold on to your light, and let it shine, even when it doesn’t seem like you can go on any further. There is enough light to get us through. The holy will always shine through us, however long the night may be.”
The story of the victory of the Maccabees is a story of strength and daring. But the story of the oil which kept burning until more oil could be made is a story of hope. It admits that we are not always in control, and that sometimes things aren’t okay. And it declares that in the midst of not okay we can still go on, can still offer our little light to the world.
Hope, the kind of hope the oil story talks about, isn’t about assuming that everything will be fine. This kind of deep, religious hope has more to do with knowing that even in the middle of the mess of life there is still enough beauty and compassion and grace to carry us forward. People will die and folks who don’t deserve it will suffer, and we can’t stop that. But we can be a light, and we can take courage from the lights of others.
The traditional song for Hanukkah is “Maoz Tzur,” in English,“Rock of Ages.” But I have another song in mind. This year after I light the Hanukkah candles I think I’ll sing: This little light of mine, I’m gonna let it shine. This little light of mine, I’m gonna let it shine. This little light of mine, I’m gonna let it shine. Let it shine, let it shine, let it shine.
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