Of all the holidays in the Jewish year, Chanukah has always, for me, been the strangest.  And that is because in all my years, which are now modestly considerable, Chanukah has never seemed to stand still.  Instead, it keeps changing.  I don’t, of course!  But it does.

When I was a young child, I loved Chanukah.  The dreidels.  The candles.  My introduction to hazelnuts.  The songs.  The joy.  The gifts!  Now this was a holiday to appreciate!  I only recently learned that other kids used chocolate, rather than hazelnuts, to play dreidel.  Lucky kids!  But still, I loved Chanukah.

But then I got a little order, and Chanukah changed.  I was maybe nine or ten, when I put my foot down and refused to celebrate it any more.  I suppose this is the place to say that the older I get, the more respect, compassion and even sympathy I have for my parents.  I must have been a difficult and at times thoroughly obnoxious child to try to raise.  Yet they never abandoned me, for which I am grateful.  Never underestimate a parent’s love.  But I digress.

At the age of nine or ten, it was explained to me that, as the song we heard just a few minutes ago tells us, at Chanukah we celebrate a “great miracle.”  A lamp with oil enough for but one night, burned instead for eight.  And in my nine year old mind was the question: “And for this all the whoopla?” 

Looking back now, as an Interfaith minister, it is clear that this is not a particularly open-minded approach.  But it was mine. 

Then I became a teenager, and Chanukah changed again.  I decided that it was just an excuse for giving kids gifts, so that Jewish children wouldn’t feel left out at Christmas when the Christian kids got presents.   It’s all commercialism, I decided, in my unforgiving teenage mind.

The idea of the commercial Chanukah lasted through college.  And then, a true miracle, I actually sat down and read of the events that led up to Chanukah.

Some two hundred years B.C.E., Antiochus of Syria wrested Judea from Egyptian control.  Judea was a kind of political football in those days.  To get to Africa from the Middle East, or to get to the Middle East from Africa, you had to go through Judea.  Whoever controlled Judea, controlled the trade routes.  And whoever controlled the trade routes could charge others money to use them. 

The Egyptians simply wanted to control the roads.  Whatever and whoever the Jews wanted to worship was fine, as long as it didn’t interfere with collecting taxes.  But then Antiochus  III of Syria swept in.  He was not so much of a problem, but his son had this idea of “civilizing” the Jews.  Specifically, Hellenize them.  Make them good Greeks.  And that meant worshipping the Greek gods at Greek temples; not the one God at the Jerusalem Temple.  The Jewish Temple was looted.  And, in effect, Judaism was outlawed.

A priest named Mattathias led a rebellion against this.  His son, Judah, became known as Judah the Hammer or the Maccabee.  He was pretty good at taking it to the Syrians.  And, depending on how you choose to read history, either the Syrians were defeated and thrown out of Judea, or the Syrians realized that Judea was just more trouble than it was worth and withdrew.  But whatever the reason, Judea was free.  Free at least for a little while.  Soon, with Rome, there would be more turmoil, and eventually Rome would find itself in control of the trade routes and Judea.   But for the moment, Judea was free.

This is of course, the short version.  There was much more complexity and I assure you much more politics involved!

But it occurred to me, profoundly, that this was the first time in recorded history (though we should always remember that most of history goes unrecorded), nonetheless, the first time in recorded history that a conquered people had revolted because they sought the right to worship as they were called to worship.  As I realized that, Chanukah became sacred to me.

As Peter, Paul and Mary put it, and as we’ll sing in a little while, “Light one candle for the Maccabee children, with thanks that their light didn’t die.”

This morning we seek to honor Chanukah in all its complexity.  We want to honor the joy of Chanukah.  I hope some of you have brought dreidels, menorahs – I’d actually forgotten how to play dreidel, but was joyfully reintroduced to it just a few nights ago.  We also want to honor the story of the miracle of Chanukah.  That in the Temple that Antiochus IV had had trampled, and thought he had destroyed, there was found enough oil for one night.  And ritual demanded seven days to properly purify the oil before burning it in the Temple.  And miraculously, oil that should only have lasted for one night, lasted for eight, until the newly purified oil was ready.  And we also honor what is so foundational for us, as an Interfaith church, the right of every human being to worship, or not, as he or she is called – and to be respected in that choice.

It is in that context that I’d like for a few minutes to turn the service over to a welcome guest,  Shirin Venus, who is a member of the Seattle Baha’i community.   We hear about Iran all the time.  It’s a threat to Israel.  It’s a threat to everybody.  It’s a renegade state developing nuclear weapons.  What we almost never hear about are the Baha’i in Iran – a people who seek to worship as they are called.  And for that “offense,” find themselves oppressed and their leaders imprisoned, threatened with death.  As we honor the spirit of Chanukah and the right to pray as we are called, we remember and honor the Baha’i.  As you know, our friend and brother Bill Griffith is Baha’i.  Bill couldn’t be here today, and Shirin has graciously agreed to come and share.

(Shirin then shared a short, articulate history of the Baha’i faith, its founding by Bahá'u'lláh, his need to leave his homeland of Iran and the oppression the Baha’i have faced in Iran and face to this day.)

The Universal Chanukah

The holiday of Chanukah began at sundown on December 1^st.  We have already looked at some of the many aspects of Chanukah.  But for me, an important part of celebrating Chanukah is to ponder the meaning that that wonderful victory, led by Judah the Hammer, carries for all of us today.  For the truth of it is that right to pray as we feel called is under attack not just in Iran, but all over the world, including Israel, though it doesn’t make headlines in the United States very often.  I was deeply moved the other day, as I was pondering Chanukah, when a friend sent me an article from an Israeli paper about what is happening there, in this case to Palestinians in the Occupied Territories.

I believe that the challenge of Chanukah confronts us today.  The temptation is always to think of my rights, my freedom, my religion.  But at Passover, my other most favorite Jewish holiday, we ask, “If one be slave, can any of us truly be free?”  The question that I believe Chanukah asks of us is: "If some are not respected in their faith, are any of us truly safe to practice ours?" 

On this Chanukah, then, let us indeed remember the right, the sacred right, of Jews to pray as they are called.  And let us also remember the Baha’i in Iran, who seek the right to pray as they are called.  Let us remember Christians in China, who seek the right to pray as they are called.  Let us remember Buddhists in Tibet, and let us remember Muslims in the United States and within the State of Israel and in the Occupied Territories, who seek the right as human beings to be treated as human beings and to pray as they are called.

May this be the year we recognize the Universal Chanukah.  May the Universal Chanukah serve to remind us to treat each other with dignity and respect: both for our common humanity and our diverse spiritual paths.  

Amen.