12 15 25 – A Historical Hanukkah Tapestry

The story of Hanukkah—Dedication—has many layers to it. And like the Christmas tapestry from this past Shabbat, many individual threads become evident upon further examination. For example, where did the stones come from on Solomon's Portico, also known as the Court of the Gentiles (1 Maccabees 4; John 10:31)?

"Then the Jews took up stones again to stone Him"
(Jn. 10:31)

The revelation of the stones in 1 Maccabees chapter 4 is preceded by chapters 1–3. Yes, thank you, Mr. Obvious :-). When we look at the text carefully, we find that it is a repeat of history from the Exodus and a story from Saul's coronation and battle with the Philistines—three stories linked together as one. But what does that have to do with us in the 21st century during the traditional date of the Feast of Dedication, Hanukkah (Jn. 10:22; Dec. 15–22, 2025)?

In the Hanukkah story, we are told that the tax collectors were oppressing the people, speaking deceitful words of peace, taking them captive, and causing them to build structures for the one who would call himself God manifest (Epiphanes), yet he really was Epimanes—a mad man (1 Mac. 1:29–32).

We are told in the book of Exodus that the Egyptians placed tax collectors to oppress the people with their burdens. Those old tax collectors! It all began with those "goober" tax collectors. It is kind of hard to take a group of law-abiding citizens, not harming anyone, and enslave them out of the blue—unless you do it through levying taxes gradually. As the taxes increased, that is when Pharaoh unleashed his deceptive means, and before the people knew what happened, they were enslaved.

Just as the "tradition" of the oil—a supply of one day burning for eight—was designed to take us back to the burning bush (Ex. 3), so too the enslavement to a "false messiah" parallels the slavery in Egypt (Ex. 1:11–15).

Solomon was correct in his statement:

"That which has been will be again, and there is nothing new under the sun"
(Eccl. 1:9)

So all in all, these parallels—the tax collectors, deception, slavery, building the storehouses—do not seem to be a coincidence. Nor should we expect the Maccabean story to be the last of these "coinky-dinks."

In the Exodus story, Pharaoh went about killing the little children by throwing them into the Nile River (Ex. 1:22). Similarly, Antiochus Epiphanes created a decree prohibiting circumcision of little baby boys, and for those who violated that law, the children were put to death, and the lifeless body was hung around the neck of their mother; later she was also put to death (1 Mac. 1:48–64). Ah yes, Antiochus Epimanes is following in the steps of one of his anti-messiah predecessors, Pharaoh. Pharaoh hid his crime; Antiochus displayed his.

Fortunately, in the story, there were individuals who loved not their lives even to death, and they refused to give up the Torah. They chose death rather than submit to the false messiah (1 Mac. 1:62–64; Rev. 12:11)!

Shortly after the baby boy genocide, the deliverer, Moses, shows up. In the Maccabean story, the deliverer is Matityahu. Like Moses (Ex. 2:1), he comes from the tribe of Levi (1 Mac. 2:1). Is it just a coinky-dink? Just as Moses got his name from being drawn from the water (Meshitihu) (Ex. 2:10), so too are there similarities in the name Matitayhu/Meshitihu.

What did the writer of Maccabees want us to see from this?

The Book of the Maccabees in chapter 2 picks up the narrative after the death of Matityahu. It chronicles the first battle between Judah, the new leader, and the Greek Syrian troops led by Saron. Saron is advancing, and Judah comes out to meet him in battle with a comparatively small force of men. Those soldiers look up, recognizing they are outnumbered with incredible odds. And they say to Judah the Maccabee, "How can we, few as we are, fight such a strong host as this? Besides, we are weak since we haven't eaten today." But Judah said, "Many are easily hemmed in by a few; in the sight of heaven there is no difference between deliverance by many or by few" (1 Mac. 3:13–18).

Look at their statement again :-). Why would they mention that they hadn't had their "Wheaties"—their breakfast of champions? Like the tax collector story in Exodus, there is another battle story where the armies were outnumbered and the leader tells them not to worry about the few versus many. It seems we are hearing echoes of that story—the story of Jonathan and King Saul in their first war against the Philistines (1 Sam. 13 & 14).

Israel is occupied by an enemy force, but this time it is not the Syrian Greeks; it is the Philistines. There is a new and untested leader, but this time it is not Matityahu or his son Judah; it is Saul and his son Jonathan. In both cases a war ensues—a war in which Israelite forces are vastly outnumbered, but against all odds they achieve victory.

Then there is the language in which all of this is couched. Just before attacking the superior enemy force, Jonathan, son of King Saul, speaks to his armor bearer, and when he does so, he says the exact words attributed to Judah the Maccabee: "There is nothing that holds back God from saving, whether with many or with few." And like the Maccabee story, Saul's men are hungry; they haven't eaten all day. For some reason, for better or for worse, Saul instructs them to avoid eating until they have completely vanquished the enemy.

It is as if the author of the Book of the Maccabees had two great, covert goals in writing the first few chapters of his book: he wanted the reader to remember Egypt, and he wanted the reader to remember Saul and Jonathan. One of the most difficult parts of the Jonathan and Saul story that jumps out at us as we read it is the role played by the prophet Samuel. You see, Samuel was the prophet who had anointed Saul as the very first king of Israel, and when he did so, he had told Saul something mysterious. He said, "Wait for seven days for me, and then you and I together will offer peace offerings." Now when he had said that, all the way back at Saul's coronation, it seemed unclear exactly what he meant (1 Sam. 10:8). When was this seven-day wait? He seemed to be saying that at some point in the future there would come a time when you would need to wait for seven days to see me, and then together we would offer peace offerings. But when exactly would that happen?

If you keep on reading the Book of Samuel, just a couple of chapters later, you find out when that moment was. It actually occurs two years later in the context of the war that Jonathan and Saul wage against the Philistines. In that war, Saul finds himself completely outnumbered. The Philistines are arraying a vast army to fight him; and to give you a sense of just how outnumbered Saul is, the Israelites start the campaign with 3,000 men; the Philistines have 30,000 chariots. Chariots were like the ancient equivalent of tanks, so ten enemy tanks for every Israelite soldier. But in addition to that, the Philistines also have 6,000 trained archers and what the text describes as an innumerable amount of infantry troops. So this is not really a fair fight (1 Sam. 13:1–7).

Saul has gathered his army and then he starts to do exactly what the prophet had told him he would do: wait for him for seven days (1 Sam. 10:8; 13:8). This seems to be the appointed moment that Samuel was talking about. Somehow, Saul just knows this is what he meant: "I need to wait seven days for him." So he waits, and as he does so, his men begin to tremble, looking at the vast enemy army gathering against them over on the other hill. They begin to hide in caves and crevices and holes in the ground, but still Saul faithfully waits for Samuel. Day after day he waits, and finally the appointed seventh day arrives. Saul's men have now started to abandon him; out of the 3,000 men he started with, only 600 remain.

Saul looks around, and still Samuel has not arrived. So he commands his men to begin to prepare the offerings. He offers the first one, and then, just then, who should he see coming around the bend but the prophet Samuel. Now you can imagine at this point what must have been going through Saul's mind: "How come this took so long, but boy am I glad to see you." So Saul goes out to greet him and to bless him. But Samuel's response is absolutely mind-boggling. Samuel says, "What have you done? Why did you offer this offering without me? You were supposed to wait." Saul says, "The people were starting to abandon me; I didn't want to face the enemy in war without offering these offerings to God" (1 Sam. 13:10–12).

Samuel lowers the boom and says, "Because you didn't wait for me, your kingdom, which would have been forever, is now going to be given to someone else" (1 Sam. 13:13–14).

Why did Samuel wait until the last minute to show up? What would you have done if you were Saul? He waited seven days but didn't wait for Samuel. Is that worthy of losing a kingdom that will never end? Did he break the law of Torah? What was his grievous sin? Many questions!

If Saul looks at the situation with a clear head, he actually loses nothing by waiting for Samuel. A few men leave, sure. But what were his odds to begin with? Pretty slim, to say the least. The symbolic act of waiting would have been very powerful indeed, and that is what Samuel had been telling Saul. Way back, all the way at his coronation, when he said there would come a time when you would have to wait for seven days for me—now was the time, the war with the Philistines (1 Sam. 10:8). It was a desperate moment in that war, and in desperate moments like that, Samuel was saying, "Don't make the fatal error of thinking that you control the path to victory. Your actions are close to irrelevant. In times like these, your focus needs to be on one immutable fact: an Israelite king is just a vessel. He is king, but God is King of Kings. His job turns from a physical role to a spiritual role."

Saul may have failed, but his son Jonathan did not. It was his son Jonathan who took the small odds and won the battle, completely dependent on God's intervention (1 Sam. 14:6–23).

Jonathan understands the need to be completely dependent on God. Even though the Philistine army taunts him, he and his armor bearer approach the camp, opening the door for God to do His warfare. The Philistines, in trying to attack Jonathan, unintentionally direct their fire at one another; those on the receiving end counterattack, once more bringing destruction on their own troops. Before you know it, the Philistine camp is at war with itself, and victory is won! God saved Israel that day (1 Sam. 14:23)—a phrase used only one other time in Scripture, when Moses led the Israelites through the sea and their enemies were destroyed (Ex. 14:30).

Both stories reveal divine intervention from God.

By weaving a tapestry of these three historic events—Israel over Egypt (Ex. 14), Saul and Jonathan over the Philistines (1 Sam. 10–14), and the Maccabees over the Syrian Greeks (1 & 2 Maccabees)—they form a kind of historical chain where only the One True God, Elohim, can get credit.

History repeats itself, and it will again (2 Thess. 2). The question that inquiring minds ask is, "Will I wait on the Lord?" The battle belongs to the Lord, but the victory is mine. Will I stand against the odds of being outnumbered? Will I live a hanukkah—a dedicated—life in the process?

Happy Hanukkah, the season of dedication!

Shalom,
Alan