Hanukkah


Sunday night was the beginning of Hanukkah, the Jewish Festival of Lights.

Many people know the story of the eight days — that there was only enough oil left in the Temple to light the Eternal Flame for a single night, not enough to burn for the eight days it would take to produce more oil. But the oil lasted until more could be made, and the Miracle of Lights is still celebrated by Jews across the world.

 Menorah1

What people forget is why the Hebrews found their temple without oil.  It had been ransacked by the Syrians, who were trying to oppress the Jews, to force them to forsake their God for the Syrians’ many tribal gods.  Thousands of years ago, fighting in the Middle East to kill those who believed differently.

But the Jews survived.  Their faith sustained them, and when they defeated the Syrians, their first thought was not revenge or retaliation, but rededication of their desecrated Temple; rededication to their God.

An interesting tale in this day and age, and perhaps more relevant than it has been in many years.

 

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On Hanukkah

 

O God, what can I say now that Israel

Has bared its neck to its enemies?

–Joshua  7 : 8

 

My God and Sovereign, The lights shimmer

So cheerfully in our houses tonight —

These lights that we kindle as evening falls,

Their gentle glow recalling the time

When your merciful light shone down on us

In the midst of a night of oppression and danger.

 

As the terrifying hand of King Antiochus was raised

Against your people, as it oppressed us and abused us,

As the Syrian king, in his stubborn frenzy,

Tried to compel us to deny our faith

And turn our wholesome honor of God into idolatry —

 

As he desecrated the temple

And disgraced the holy tabernacle,

You called forth might, glorious warriors

And champions of right from among your people,

You se up the noble sons of Mattathias

At the heed of that small band of Maccabees

And lent them victory and triumph

Then our ancestors came into your temple,

Purified the holy spaces

That the barbarians had desecrated,

Kindled the lights at the holy places,

And dedicated this day

As a day of liberty and celebration for all time.

 

In the shimmer of these lights we remember those days

When absolute faith and childlike love you,

Exalted Eternal One, returned again

To the faltering, weary hearts of your people,

When our holy religion inspired their hearts once more

And burned within them

With Heavenly strength and purity

In all its shining nobility.

 

May these little lights,

Which serve as a testament to that great epoch,

Also beckon us to rekindle the holiest awe, love,

And trust in you , Eternal Parent, in our own hearts.

May we always nurture these holy feelings,

So we do not grow weary or falter

When misfortune and trouble enter our lives.

And when we are faced with difficult tests,

May we honor your will with dedications and piety,

Patiently bearing whatever we have been given,

Never crying out in doubt,

“There is no help for us in God.”

You place burdens on us

And relieve us of our burdens,

You change darkness into light and mourning into joy.

May you make our hearts strong and vigorous,

That we may always act with complete devotion

And firm commitment to you and your holy works,

Proving ourselves to be courageous warriors

And champions of your diving command.  Amen

–Author Unknown

 

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Song of the Open Road


 

Song of the Open Road

 

Afoot and light-hearted I take to the open road,

Health, free, the world before me,

The long brown path before me leading wherever I choose.

 

Henceforth I ask not good-fortune, I myself am good-fortune,

Henceforth I whimper no more, postpone no more, need nothing, Done with indoor complaints, libraries, querulous criticisms,

Strong and content I travel the open road.

 

The earth, that is sufficient,

I do not want the constellations any nearer,

I know they are very well where they are,

I know they suffice for those who belong to them.

 

(Still here I carry my old delicious burdens,

I carry them, men and women, I carry them with me wherever I go,

I swear it is impossible for me to get rid of them,

I am fill’d with them, and I will fill them in return.)

 

You air that serves me with breath to speak!

You objects that call from diffusion my meanings

and give them shape!

You light that wraps me and all things in delicate equable showers!

You light that wraps me and all things in delicate equable showers!

You paths worn in the irregular hollows by the roadsides!

I believe you are latent with unseen existences, you are so dear to me.

 

All seems beautiful to me,

I can repeat over to men and women, You have done such good to me

I can repeat over to men and women,

I will recruit for myself and you as I go,

I will scatter myself among men and women as I go,

I will toss a new gladness and roughness among them,

Whoever denies me it shall not trouble me,

Whoever accepts me he or she shall be blessed and shall bless me.   —excerpted from Walt Whitman, Leaves of Grass

 

 

Acrylic painting of courtyard in the French Quarter. Painted and copyrighted 2009

Acrylic painting of courtyard in the French Quarter. Painted and copyrighted 2009 by Barbara Mattio

 

 

 

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The Bahamas. Photograph taken and copyrighted 2013

The Bahamas. Photograph taken and copyrighted 2013

 

 

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