Remember what Amalek did to you
on your journey
as you came out of Mitzryim
how he surprised you/chilled your spirit
on the road
smote those lagging behind
all that were enfeebled,
when you were faint and weary;
not fearing his own act.
When Adonai Elohekha gives you safety
from all your enemies round about,
in the land which Adonai Elohekha gives you as a hereditary portion
you shall blot out the remembrance of Amalek
from under the heavens.
Do not forget. Deuteronomy 25: 17-19

The winter weather and gray skies deepened the chill of the broken stones
we sat upon, the remains of a house destroyed in Hebron. I sat in silent mourning with a Muslim family whose father had been murdered by Barukh Goldstein on Purim, 1994. Goldstein believed he was fulfilling the mitzvah to eradicate the name of Amalek which he identified as Palestinian Muslims praying in the mosque of our common ancestor Abraham. Goldstein believed the Lord’s ‘war with Amalek from generation to generation’ (Ex.15:17) commanded him to kill an entire people. While costumed Jewish children took their plastic Purim hammers to the street, playfully bopping people on the head on their way to hear the megillah, I sat amidst the rubble of a former home facing people who, unknown to them, were cast into the role of villains in an ancient story and forced to endure a plot line which targeted them for destruction. 1994 changed forever, the way I celebrated Purim with my congregation. From that time forward, the passages of revenge were expunged from the text. Along with our revamped feminist versions of the Purim tale in which Vashti was restored to her former glory and the women of the harem were given their freedom, my congregation elected to offer Haman community service and diversity training! The resolution of the story in my Albuquerque community came to reflect the ideas of restorative justice so dear to us, rather than revenge justice which had no place in our communal life.

As a shomeret shalom, a Jewish person who observes The Torah of Nonviolence, the enactment of Purim poses many challenges, the most difficult of which is the revenge aspects associated with resolution of the conflict in the story of Esther and the reading of the maftir passage about Amalek on Shabbat Zachor.

Many voices within the tradition also regard this text with discomfort and trepidation and work to find ways to limit the text and change its meaning. One strategy found in traditional sources to read Amalek passages as a historical account of a Nazi-like people, in which the command to kill every man, woman and child is justified as a rational and moral choice based on their behavior. As J.H. Hertz, the Chief Rabbi of the British Empire wrote, ” A people so devoid of natural religion as to kill non-combatants had forfeited all claim to mercy.” This strategy is insufficient on many levels. First of all, the notion of collective punishment and the targeting of civilians is illegal according to international law and morally abhorrent. Nothing justifies the death of innocents. Secondly, the objectification of an entire people is the first step on the road to genocidal behavior. We cannot and should not teach it nor promote it, even in fun. As Barukh Goldstein demonstrates, words can lead to actions.

Another widely employed strategy in dealing with Amalek is to acknowledge the historical event that has no contemporary application (although we do not know if the passages about Amalek reflect history). According to the sages, Jews are forbidden from trying to fulfill the mitzvah to eradicate Amalek’s name through physical combat and war with contemporary people, since the tribe of Amalek no longer exists in the world. Rather, the text is reformulated as a spiritual text that commands us to eradicate the Amalek within our own heart and mind. Amalek is the symbolic rendering of inner doubt, ridicule and alienation that must be overcome on the journey toward wholeness of spirit. While this approach focuses our efforts on our inner life, and places the responsibility for transformation upon each individual, the story of Purim and the reading of the Amalek passages are not often presented in public with this intention in mind. Furthermore, what are the skillful means for transforming doubt into faith, ridicule into comic irony and empathy, and alienation into connectedness and beloved community? How do we avoid projection?

The third way appears in Midrash Tannaim and BT Sanhedrin 99b. In an effort to explain how Amalek came to be, a story is related about Timna, the sister of Lotan, one of Esau’s chiefs. Timna wants to convert and become a member of Abraham’s household. She goes to each of the three patriarchs who reject her. Undeterred, she surrenders her status as daughter of a chieftain and becomes the concubine of Eliphaz, one of Esau’s sons. She declares: “Better to be a handmaiden to Israel than a noblewoman of the chiefs of Esau.” (Midrash Tannaim on Deut., 32:47). The sages comment that the patriarchs were punished for rejecting a potential convert. Amalek was born of the union of Timna and Eliphaz, saw how his mother was treated and swore he would make Israel suffer. This rendering of the story might cause us to consider the consequences of drawing the boundaries of community in such a way that some members of humanity remain as outsiders.

As a shomeret shalom who practices the Torah of Nonviolence, there are ways we can situate the story that prevent us from objectifying others, promoting revenge and rejoicing in destruction. The mitzvah to get so drunk one can no longer distinguish between blessed is Mordecai, cursed is Haman seems to point us in this direction.

As a shomeret shalom, Purim becomes the holy day during which time we make an effort to overcome oppositional thinking. As Kedushat Levi taught, “The remembrance of Amalek is to arouse the spirit of a person to transcend (opposites) because the redemption of soul depends upon it. Part of overcoming oppositional thinking is the ability to play all the parts. The rabbinic empathy for Amalek found in the Talmudic readings about Timna encourage us to understand those who we might consider our opponents. Humanizing the face of the enemy is key to this approach. Purim can be seen as a warning tale that reminds us that plotting destruction for others comes back around in the form of self-destruction. Finally, using humor to make fun of ourselves by pointing out painful truths in a way that allows us to laugh, enables us to overcome oppositional thinking by loosening the boundaries of conventional behavior so we can explore ‘the other side’.

Clearly we need to be very very careful in the rendering of Purim. We cannot allow ourselves to characterize any nation that exists in this world as ‘amalek’. Rather, we need to place our faith in the power of the human spirit to transform conflict in ways that truly lead us to a path of celebration and joy. Hag Sameakh.

Sunday * February 21 * 1-5PM
180 East Main Street, Stony Point, NY 10980

Join the Community of Living Traditions at Stony Point Center as we celebrate the opening of the Shomer Shalom House and launch Jewish programing and holy days that lift up The Torah of Nonviolence.
The Community of Living Traditions is a multifaith residential community dedicated to nonviolence and peace advocacy in study and practice. Shomer Shalom is a network of Jewish individuals committed
to the Torah of Nonviolence.

1-3 PM Meet, greet and schmooze
3 PM Affixing the mezuzah with prayers from CLT multifaith partners
3:15-4:00 PM Teachings from The Torah of Nonviolence with Rabbi Lynn Gottlieb, and Islam and nonviolence with Rabia Terri Harris
4-5 PM Enjoy CLT hospitality and a delicious meal.

Shomer Shalom embraces a compassion centered, eco-kosher, wildly creative, human rights honoring, inter-generational, multi-cultural, queer embracing, text studying, ceremonial making, peace activist vision of Judaism

en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Steven_Schwarzschild

STONY POINT, N.Y. — Dozens of old friends and former directors of the Stony Point Center gathered here Oct. 17-18 for a 60th anniversary and homecoming celebration of the Presbyterian Church (U.S.A.)-related conference facility.

But the weekend gathering wasn’t all about looking back.

Co-directors Rick and Kitty Ufford-Chase — who arrived at the financially troubled center in August 2008 — outlined plans for the “fifth generation” of Stony Point, designed to revitalize the storied center just north of New York City.

A centerpiece of the new Stony Point is the Community of Living Traditions — an interfaith intentional community dedicated to nonviolence and peacemaking. For at least five years, Christians, Muslims and Jews will live together at Stony Point, working, worshipping and learning together side by side.

Residents will move into the three houses that will comprise the community in January, said Kitty Ufford-Chase.

“We’ve asked them to do a very different thing,” Rick Ufford-Chase said. “You may not have noticed, but Stony Point is a very Presbyterian place,” he joked.

But Stony Point has also long been a place willing to push boundaries, he said, adding that there is both anxiety and excitement about the changes.

The Community of Living Traditions will offer workshops, camps and internships focusing on interfaith traditions and nonviolence.

Leaders of the Jewish and Muslim leaders of the new community spoke to those who attended the homecoming and anniversary celebration.

Rabbi Lynn Gottlieb

Gottlieb is a founder of the Shomer Shalom Institute for Jewish Nonviolence, a group committed to nonviolence based on Jewish principles of religious engagement. The organization also provides educational and liturgical resources and conducts workshops and retreats.
Photo of Rabbi Lynn Gottlieb
Rabbi Lynn Gottlieb. Photo by Bethany Furkin.

Stony Point is a shelter for peace in the world, Gottlieb said, adding that she hopes the community will bring acculturation “in which people can live with all the tensions which come from being different.”

The “radical hospitality” that is a key part of Stony Point is known in the Jewish tradition as the welcoming of guests, Gottlieb said. To be truly welcoming in the context of nonviolence, people must be aware of the systems of power in the world, she said, and where they stand or the role they play in such systems.

For Gottlieb, being Jewish brings acute awareness. “As a Jewish person, we grow up knowing we’re a minority,” she said. “We grow up in a Christian world.”

Wherever she goes, she knows she will have Jewish brothers and sisters, just as people of other faiths have their own “world communities,” Gottlieb explained.

Jews carry the wounds of the Holocaust and other world events with them today, Gottlieb said. Sometimes wounds can make people afraid and leave them wondering how to heal. But such healing is necessary, she said.

“If we don’t heal our wounds — all of us — we’re in danger of perpetuating them,” she said.

In 1966, Gottlieb traveled to Israel, where she met survivors of the Holocaust. While there, she also met German youths who were trying to heal the wounds in their own hearts. They were the children of a society that murdered millions, she said, and were trying to figure out to make it better by building relationships with Israelis.

During the same trip, the teenage Gottlieb met and talked with Palestinians. She realized that in looking for a home, her people had pushed Palestinians out of theirs.

Her interactions with these three wounded groups brought Gottlieb to a realization that “I wanted to figure out how to make peace in the world,” she said, adding that it’s easier said than done. “Once you step on this journey, it’s a lifelong journey.”

To heal a wound, one must first understand it, Gottlieb said. People must live with their differences and go to the hardest places, the deepest wounds. The community at Stony Point will provide a space for that and will also allow people to raise questions.

“It’s an incredible opportunity to create a healing resource that will have reverberations that we can’t even imagine,” she said. “It’s going to be a long and beautiful and surprising road, and I’m excited to be walking on it with you.”

Rabia Harris

Harris is the founder of the Muslim Peace Fellowship, the first Muslim organization specifically devoted to the theory and practice of Islamic nonviolence. On its Web site, the group is described as “part membership group, part think tank, and part movement builder.”
Photo of Rabia Harris
Rabia Harris. Photo by Bethany Furkin.

Nonviolence is one of the most misunderstood words in the English language and one of the most misunderstood ideas in the world, Harris said. This is not surprising, as there are two meanings to nonviolence.

The first is the life decision to live in harmony with creation, to live without domination. In Arabic, the word for this is Islam.

The second is the method of pursing necessary social change by relying on the real, long-term power of justice, she said. The Arabic word for this is jihad.

The goal of all religions is to make a world worth living in for everyone, Harris said, no matter how impossible it might seem.

The Muslim Peace Fellowship holds that nonviolence is the message of all religious traditions, a message that has been carried by all the messengers of God, Harris said, each in the flavor of the messenger.

Mohammad was a master of nonviolence, Harris said. His message had three characteristics: absolute servanthood, all-encompassing perfection and the preference for God’s preference.

What is called fighting for Islam is too often merely fighting for power and vengeance, Harris said. But true Jihad is about human dignity, not factions and groups. Jihad means fighting, she said, but Islam believes violent means are abominable even if the intent is noble.

The Muslim Peace Fellowship views all modern weapons as weapons of mass destruction, and therefore as religiously unlawful, Harris said. Only one form of fighting is religiously lawful — unarmed struggle.

“If we long for the end of injustice so that peace may come, we will be waiting for a long time,” Harris said. “If we find peace, we will be able to make peace.”

Harris is excited about the community at Stony Point. Living together “is more than worth trying,” she said.

“Although the world cannot be perfect, there is nothing to prevent it from being better than it is,” she said. “Whoever serves peace serves God.”

The activists targeted are members of New Profile, a group of feminist women and men daring to suggest that Israel need not be a militarized society. They are being wrongfully accused of inciting young people–like the shministim–not to enlist in the army. The charge is not true. While New Profile does not tell youngsters not to enlist, they certainly support those who do not: pacifists, those who oppose the occupation, and others. New Profile informs them of their rights and gives them legal support when necessary. But Israel is a country that does not acknowledge the basic human right to conscientious objection.

The government’s accusation against New Profile is not new. It has been out there for some time, as a source of harassment. Today’s police actions tighten the screws considerably. We’ve seen how international pressure has helped get many shministim out of jail. Now it’s time to put as much pressure so that Israeli peace activists can do their work free of intimidation.

I leave you with a note from New Profile: “These recent acts confirm what we have been contending for many years: the militarism of society in Israel harms the sacred principles of democracy, freedom of expression and freedom of political association. One who believed that until now criminal files were conjured up “only” for Arab citizens of Israel saw this morning that none of us can be certain that s/he can freely express an opinion concerning the failures of society and rule in Israel.”

Jewish tradition also teaches that “when an arrow leaves the hand of a warrior he cannot take it back.” From this we learn that violence unleashes a myriad of consequences that we cannot control or reverse. We cannot begin to fathom the depths of trauma this action has caused for those living in Gaza and the grief for scores of individuals, families and loved ones around the world. Moreover we can only imagine the growing fury it has inspired in Gazans, Palestinians and the greater Arab world and the serious damage it has inflicted upon prospects for peace between Israelis and Palestinians.

In the wake of the recent cease-fire the task before the new American administration is all the more daunting – and all the more critical. We urge our new President to turn back the policies of previous administrations – policies which have given Israel a blank check to take numerous measures that we believe are counter to the cause of peace, including the expropriation of Palestinian lands, destruction of Palestinians homes and businesses and the widespread building of settlements in occupied Palestinian territory, to name but a few. We sincerely hope the Obama administration will find the courage to insist that the Israeli government end these actions in the strongest terms possible.

As Jews committed to nonviolence, we believe the pursuit of peace and justice to be our most sacrosanct value. We reject the vision of this conflict as an “Us vs. Them” zero sum game. We urge all who seek an end to this tragic conflict to commit themselves to peace, reconciliation and restorative justice. We call for a political solution that ends the occupation, addresses the needs of Palestinian refugees and constructs a positive future by and for Israelis and Palestinians in the holy land.

In honor of Hanukah and prayers for an end to the violence against Gaza. Please forgive the length. If you feel moved, please pass this on to those who might benefit from these reflections.

This is in response to the correspondence from friends and colleagues in the Jewish community who are using the story of Hanukah to  justify the use of bombing Gaza as permitted self-defense. I believe the story of Hanukah teaches us that, ‘Not by military might or power, but only by spirit’ that we shall achieve redemption. (This verse from Zecharia is the passage chosen by Talmudic sages to read during Hanukkah. Which one is it? Which account is ‘truer’ to tradition? What should we do?
First of all, all of our hearts grieve for the loss of life. Hundreds of Gazans are being killed as we speak. While Hamas firing rockets on Israeli civilians is a crime against humanity, so is Israel’s bombing Palestinian civilian population centers, as is Israel’s denying the people of Gaza food and medicine and resources which has resulted in a humanitarian crisis, as is the entire project of occupation.  As this tragedy continues to unfold, how do we construct the road to peace?  How do we increase light in this terrible situation?
Let us call for an immediate end to the siege of Gaza, an end to the firing of rockets into Israel and an immediate return to the ceasefire. And then, let us call for meaningful negotiations that result in concrete advances toward peace based on mutual recognition, systematic equality and good neighbor policies in the land that both people share.
For those who justify defensive violence on the basis of the Macabean struggle in 165 BCE that resulted in taking back the Temple in Jerusalem, I believe that then, as now, militarism is a fatal mistake and does not bring lasting or temporary peace. Roger Kamenitz once commented: If one is compassionate, then one has a compassionate Torah. If one is angry, one’s Torah is also angry. All the more so if one believes that violence can ever be redemptive.
As Rabbi Brant Rosen taught on a bus to Persepolis in Iran during the 8th Fellowship of Reconciliation Interfaith Delegation to Iran, the concept of rodef (pursuer) in the context of permissible self-defense appears only once in the Talmud, briefly. However an entire perek~chapter is given to ‘gadol ha-shalom’, Great is Peace. Rodef Shalom the pursuit of peace is the core operating principle in the Torah. I believe the message of Torah and Talmud councils us  to  embrace the miracle of peace rather than place our faith in the sword. That is, I believe, also the message of Hanukah given to us by the sages.  The Talmudic sages did not spend too much time on the Macabean victory. One sentence. After all, the Temple was destroyed by the Romans in 70 CE. The people of Israel two thousand years ago were living under Roman occupation. Rather, the people and the sages emphasized a story about the miracle of the oil and proposed a new ceremonial way to proclaim continuity and hope: lighting a hanukiah in the window at dusk to proclaim the miracle of light in a time of darkness. Lighting candles was their form of resistance to death and persecution. It worked. We survived.
The VAST MAJORITY of teachers within our tradition have not been kind to warriors. There are so many hundreds of examples of the Jewish preference for ‘the book over the sword’, that one can easily argue that pacifism is a majority NOT a minority concept in Jewish religion. A few sentences about self-defense in our tradition can hardly compare to the overwhelming preference that “Individuals and entire peoples must order their lives according to what is taught: A human being should concern herself more than she not injure others than she not be injured.* For when a human tries to KEEP WATCH/shomer that his or her fist not injure others, by that very act she enthrones in the world, the God of truth and righteousness and adds power to the realm of justice. (*Tosafot of B. Kama 23b)
Pacifism is a highly rational system of belief with a long historical track record  whose achievements can be measured.  My faith is also rooted in the belief that, in the long run, constructive nonviolence is the better road to peace and security than use of arms or violence.  I realize there is much more to say on the subject of nonviolence. Here is Rebbe Nachman of Bratislav on the topic:
 ”Many stupid beliefs people once held, such as idol worship that demanded child sacrifice, etc., thank God,  have disappeared. But, as of yet, the foolish belief in the pursuit of war… has not disappeared. What great thinkers they must be! What ingenuity they must possess to invent amazing weapons that kill thousands of people at once! Is there any greater stupidity than this? To murder so many people for nothing?”  Rebbe Nachman of Bratislav during the Napoleonic wars.
Here is Mariane Pearl, wife of murdered journalist Daniel Pearl: “They want to destroy hope, therefore I shall preserve it by any possible means. They want to kill trust. Thus I will reach out to others, Africans, Asians, Arabs, Americans and Jews alike. They want to imprison people in labels and stereotypes. I will strive to maintain a dialogue, always focusing on the individuals rather than the symbol. They want to kill joy in me, thus I will laugh again. They want to paralyze me, therefore I will take action. They want to silence me–therefore I will speak out. ”
 Reb Zalman Schachter, Rabbi Everett Gendler and many others agreed to sit on the elders’ council of Shomer Shalom Institute for Jewish Nonviolence to give witness to that faith.  We are committed to a daily renewal of our  intention to follow the path of nonviolence~shomer shalom. Like one who follows the practice of  shomer kashrut and shomer shabbat, we are shomrei shalom. Our  practice involves not causing intentional harm as well as a religions opposition to war and militarism as well as a commitment to constructing peace through positive action. While the ‘right’ to self-defense is embraced, it is embraced without resorting to intentionally causing physical, emotional or structural harm. Shomrei Shalom rely upon collective peace action, deep study and practice and a lifetime of choices. Like all religious action, teshuvah (repentance) is possible if one strays from one’s intended path. Teshuvah itself incorporates reconciliation and restorative justice.
For the sake of peace, mipnei darkhei shalom, let us place peace action as our shviti~our constant longing for the Presence to manifest before us. There are 10,000 paths of shalom.
Since when is dropping bombs upon innocent people one of those paths? Since when is starving people or denying them medicine justified under any circumstances? Since when is imprisoning people behind walled security fences, cutting down their olive trees, stealing their land, imprisoning them without legal access, deporting them and humiliating them at checkpoints in any way permissible under the category of self-defense? No matter how I turn it and turn it, I cannot find justification for the amount of suffering inflicted upon my brothers and sisters in Gaza, the West Bank or inside the Green Line. Let us join our voices to the voices of the Shministim, the young Israelis who are choosing prison rather than inflicting harm. Let us create a vast Jewish movement for change in our communities rooted in nonviolence. This is the time.
Violence is rooted in fear and despair as well as the ability to act without restraint.  Let us embrace the miracle of hope and peace by calling for an immediate ceasefire and an end to the siege of Gaza. Let us be the voice of restraint. Make it a public witness. Place your faith in acts of peace. Do not be silent in the face of violence. Let your voice be another candle in the darkness,
Rabbi Lynn Gottlieb   Shomeret Shalom

The notion that family members would air their soiled laundry before a mass audience is surprising. Except, of course, in Torah – where it happens all the time. This week, in parashat Miketz, the painful repercussions of Ya’akov’s favoritism toward his son Yosef continue to be played out on a public stage. Yosef suffers further indignity and degradation. Ya’akov mourns beloved children who are, in fact, alive. And, once Yosef assumes a position of authority, his brothers undergo a humbling path of teshuvah.

Of all the Torah’s books, Genesis is perhaps the volume in which we find the most family strife: naked envy, bloodless deception, enmity across generations.

Meanwhile, at this time of year, the Hebrew calendar brings another generational struggle. But our extended Jewish family’s struggle over the history and significance of the festival of Chanukah is less well known.

So let’s review. As many of us know, about 2200 years ago, a ragtag group of insurgents known as the Maccabees defeated what was then the strongest military force in the known world, the Greek Empire.

The family strife enters the picture in deciding how to tell this story. It is the Maccabees’ grandkids – our rabbis of blessed memory – who made this decision. As it turns out, the rabbis did a funny thing.

They changed it.

We might expect the rabbis to celebrate the ferocious might of the Maccabee warriors, and their improbable military victory – sort of a Jewish VJ-Day. We would be wrong. They don’t even mention the day that the Greeks surrendered. This festival has nothing to do with the war.

The story of the Maccabean revolt? It’s found nowhere in Jewish scripture. The books of the Maccabees? Banished from the Tanakh. All that war business? They it took out. In their encyclopedic Talmud, the rabbis dedicate an entire tractate to just about every holiday: Rosh HaShanah, Yoma for Yom Kippur, Psachim for Passover, Megillah for Purim, and so on. About Chanukah, the best the rabbis can manage is a paragraph – not about war, but about a jar of oil.

Why the cover-up? Why not show pride in their warrior ancestors? The rabbis, one might argue, had learned the lessons of history. By the time of the Talmud, the Maccabees are long gone. The Romans have conquered Jerusalem. Some Jews – particularly young Jewish men and boys – won’t stand for it. They carry out guerilla attacks against the Romans. Sometimes, these young people die. And sometimes, like the Maccabees, they attack other Jews who are not patriotic enough for them. Family strife of the worst kind.

Our sages cry, “ENOUGH! The Jewish people have lost enough young men! And picking up a weapon is not the only way to be a patriot.”

Refusing to describe the miracle in military terms, the rabbis instead name the holiday Chanukah, a Hebrew word meaning “dedication.” They focus their attention on the rededication of the Temple the Greeks had despoiled. They teach that the Maccabeans rebels, finding their home a physical and spiritual wreck, sought oil to light the ner tamid – G-d’s eternal flame.

We are not the first generation, it seems, to face an oil shortage. The Maccabees find only that little jar. But as the rabbis tell the story, they discover that, focusing on the needs of the entire community, there is indeed enough sustenance for everyone to celebrate. And so a celebration of war is transformed into a celebration of G-d – and a celebration of our power to make our ransacked communities whole again.

And make no mistake about it – it takes Talmudic genius to save this holiday. The history of Chanukah provides us with precious few “good guys.” On the one hand, we are troubled by our Hellenized ancestors, all too willing to heed the siren call of assimilation. But what of the Maccabees? Would that cave-dwelling band of zealots have any truck with us, and our embrace of contemporary culture and its secular pursuits and diversions? Probably not.

Sadly, the Maccabees were far from the model of inclusive pluralism and benevolent rule. Given the blessing of hindsight, the rabbis saw that the Hashmonean dynasty – the Jewish kingdom that arose from the Maccabean insurgency – became unspeakably brutal, the only Jewish regime in recorded history that practiced forced conversion of non-Jews. Born in violence, it became addicted to violence.

The war addict, of course, can’t help himself. Needing a fix, he can always come up with a good reason – just one last time. Our sages will have none of it. And so they make us read the prophet Zachariah on Shabbat Chanukah: Lo b’chayil, v’lo b’choach, ki im b’ruchi. “’Not by might, not by power,’” the prophet reports G-d’s message to us, “’but by My Spirit.’”

Of course, we do feel some kinship with our Maccabean ancestors. We understand our oppressed forbears taking up arms. Under Antiochus IV, Jews were ordered to forsake circumcision, forgo Torah, forget Shabbat, and forfeit the Temple – in essence, to go away. A tiny minority resisted, refused to be extinguished. Jews are like that. We’re inconvenient. (It’s annoying to some people.) Even today, a lot of folks would just as soon not have Jews around.

But it is so tragic when Jews replace faith in G-d with faith in arms.

If possible, our Chanukiot, our Chanukah menorahs, are supposed to be displayed in a window. So people can see them. So people can see us. Our light is a public-service announcement. We are still here. Miracles happen. No matter how tiny in number, we survive. No matter how many times Yosef is sent underground – in the blindness of a pit, in a forlorn Egyptian dungeon – still, he rises. The continued existence of Jews, against absurd odds, is remarkable.

But existence itself is not enough. It has never been enough. Our continued survival is not for us alone. Rather, it implies a Force more powerful than weapons and money and things.

Our lives, when we get them right, are witnesses to that Force. And so, on Chanukah, each night we add another light. Greater blessing. More witness. “In matters of holiness,” Rabbi Hillel teaches, “we do not decrease. We increase!”

Yosef, suffering brutal injustice instigated by his father and brothers, could have chosen to spurn the light, to remain in darkness. He could have held a lifetime grudge against his father, or used his newfound power to permanently subjugate his brothers. He could have become a rabid war-monger.

But he doesn’t. At all times, he remains discreet and strikingly principled. And he leaves the door open for reconciliation. Having escaped the physical dungeon, he also unlocks the door to his spirit, leaving space for G-d’s holiness and light to enter.

As did our rabbis. In taking the radical and revolutionary step of rewriting Jewish history, they turned a story of fevered militarism into a blessing of Divine light.

Finding that light – breaking the destructive patterns, both personal and national – is such a struggle. For us, living in a world of rancor and violence, the ability to call forth such blessing hardly seems possible. But it is real nonetheless. Yosef’s brothers are shocked to find that – despite the fact that they have purchased food – their money remains in their sack. Yosef’s steward comforts them: Natan lachem matmon b’amtechoteichem. “G-d has given you treasure in those worn-out sacks of yours.” We too have treasures we just barely perceive.

When the Maccabees entered the Beit HaMikdash, they discovered our sacred temple had been rendered a scarred temple. They found it defiled, its holiness violated, its treasures betrayed. They purified it and rededicated it to the service of the Eternal One. And when our rabbis looked upon the history of the Maccabees, they too found the scars of defilement. They found our highest principles defiled, our morals violated, our ethical core betrayed. They rededicated Judaism to the path of peace and blessing. They pulled treasure out of world of tsuris and hurt.

The story of the miracle oil may be fiction. But it expresses the deepest truths that our people represent. Rather than the fire of anger or the glow of burning villages, the rabbis gave us the blessed glow of Chanukah fire – the flames of peace – lighting the way to the love of G-d. Each night. Another light.

If you look closely, you can still see the miracles hovering over our Chanukah menorah. The trembling flames demand: will we too force our grandchildren to rewrite our history? Or will we ourselves live a history we can be proud of? Can we harness the courage of the Maccabees and the open heart of Yosef in leading a Jewish charge for safety and security for all peoples? Can we – you and I – dedicate ourselves to our people’s ancient, sacred purpose: to join together, share our flames with one another, and light the way to peace?

Shabbat shalom.