by Julie Saxe-Taller 

There's the story of Chanukah, with oil, dreidels, the victory of the underdog and freedom of religion. And then there's the messy, complicated history of the Jews of Judea leading up to and during the reign of Antiochus Epiphanes. 

The relationship between the story that Jews tell in celebrating Chanukah and the actual history of the Jews under the Hellenistic Kingdoms is in many ways parallel to the relationship between what could be called the "story" of modern-day Chanukah in the United States and the story I believe we would do better to tell. 

Chanukah: the Time for Jewish Identity

Chanukah has become the point in each year when a great many Jews take a stand for Jewish identity and culture, and against assimilation. We have assigned to Chanukah the theme of struggle against assimilation, emphasizing the external forces which drive the assimilation process. Jewish communities and particularly parents exert major efforts in the hope that Jewish children will feel proud to be Jews and will be satisfied with Chanukah, always aware that it stands alongside Christmas, undergoing severe competition with the decorations, the presents and the many festivities associated with the major holiday of the majority culture.

Personally, I did internalize the pride in being Jewish that my parents hoped I would. I loved Chanukah and especially enjoyed having a holiday that was explained each year in my public school, best of all when it was my mom who came to school for this purpose. I was also lucky not to feel shut out or deprived of Christmas, since my family was always invited to decorate the tree at our friends' home and to spend Christmas day with them. Although it was not my holiday, I was not excluded from it. From very young, I felt this was an ideal perspective on the Jewish and Christian holidays. 

But at some point I noticed, without admitting it, that I was particularly attached to my holiday not only because it was beautiful and joyful, but because it was different. Somehow I felt this was an illegitimate reason to love Chanukah, and although I couldn't always put my finger on why, I think I was on to something. 

Might Does Not = Right

The lesson we teach during Chanukah is very powerful. Perhaps it is at this time of year that we pass on to the next generation the most important of Jewish strengths: the ability and confidence to be part of a minority, to refrain from following when a majority "rushes to do evil," to stand up for justice even if we stand alone. Assimilation, during our time as much as during the time of the Hellenistic kingdoms, is a compelling force. 

 The messages of Chanukah, that freedom of religion and culture is worth fighting for, and that might does not equal right, are messages which truly do bring light and hope in times of confusion and duress. Jewish identity has been founded on these values, and they continue to serve as inspiration for some of our proudest acts as individual Jews and as Jewish communities. 

All Humans Share a Basic Image

 But we have also come to include in this process the handing down of a shared identity as people who are different. The distinction between doing differently and being different is significant. While the first can be a choice based on thinking and personal preference, the second is an element of identity which runs counter to the profound Jewish idea that all human beings, being created in the image of the same God, share the same basic nature. 

As modern Jews, we have the opportunity to re-evaluate the parts of our Jewish identities which may not be healthy, such as the perception that we are somehow different from all other people. This aspect of Jewish identity is of course the product of the long history of anti-semitism, with the idea that Jews are different at its core. Although not the sources of this perspective, the traditional messages of Chanukah serve to perpetuate it. When we see ourselves as fundamentally different from other people, we tend to mistrust others and to assume that they too see us as strange and different. 

(Don't) Think "Different"

What would happen if we did not make this assumption? When asked, many Jews' first response is that we would blindly entrust our safety to untrustworthy people. But not to assume that Jews and non-Jews are different by nature does not imply blind or imprudent trust. Instead it might lead us to create much stronger, more reliable bonds with non-Jews than we have until now. 

As opposed to the fabled struggle of the Jews against forced Hellenization, and the miracle of one day's worth of oil burning for eight days and nights, the more realistic account of the history of that period includes a mix of both acculturation to the innovations of Greek life and the continuation of Jewish life. This history offers us a less idealized picture of the struggles which preceded the Hasmonean revolt. The period was in fact full of conflict not only between the Jews and the Ptolemy and Seleucid rulers but also among various Jewish communities in Palestine, based on differing economic situations as well as political and religious preferences and loyalties. Sounds more like us every minute, doesn't it? 

What does this have to do with being different? The traditional Chanukah story sets up the heroes, Judah the Maccabee and his brothers, as anti-assimilationists, leading the Jews who abhorred Greek ways back to independence. And by doing this, it sets us up to see assimilation as the enemy, even as we celebrate the holiday in the midst of our lives as American Jews. It forces us to pretend that we are against something, when in fact we have a very complicated relationship with it. 

Instead of pretending we are so different from all other Americans, why not use this holiday to explore the meaning and content of religious freedom, and more broadly, freedom of thought, speech and action, in a pluralistic but Christian-dominated society? 

We have the opportunity to pass on to the next generation of Jews all the strength of the Jewish history of surviving and thriving as a people, of pursuing justice and of adapting to new cultures and new times. And we might be able to do this while beginning the process of disentangling this proud tradition from the belief that we are different from everyone else. 

Julie Saxe-Taller is a rabbinic student at Hebrew Union College in New York City.