A revisionist and contrarian look at the Hanukkah story.

Learning the story of Hanukkah is the earliest memory I have of experiencing cognitive dissonance. I must have been around seven or eight years old when it was taught to me at the Caracas Jewish school.

One or two years earlier, my mother had bought me three comic books from a newspaper stand, covering ancient Greece, Carthage, and Rome, respectively. From that moment, I developed a lifelong admiration for Greek and Roman civilizations, an interest that has only grown stronger over time.

When my teachers portrayed the Seleucids—whom they referred to as Greeks—as the bad guys, I found it difficult to reconcile. Although I didn’t dispute the historical facts they presented, my admiration for Greek culture and its achievements prevented me from accepting their purely negative depiction.

I never felt much sympathy for the Maccabees and even less for the Hasidim, whom I saw as bigoted and intolerant. On the other hand, I felt a certain empathy for the Hellenized Jews, who, like me, shared an appreciation for Greek culture.

If someone were to ask how a Jew could not admire the Maccabees, I would point out that, if it were up to the rabbis, we would know nothing about the Maccabees (*). The texts recounting the Maccabees' story are not part of the Tanakh. Our knowledge of them comes mainly through Christian preservation—specifically, the Books of the Maccabees, along with the works of Flavius Josephus and Philo (a Jewish thinker as significant as Maimonides). These texts survived thanks to Christian custodianship, and we owe them gratitude for that.

The sole Jewish source on the Maccabees preserved by rabbinical tradition is the

Megillat Antiochus

, a document composed sometime between the 2nd and 7th centuries CE. It was used in Yemenite and some Italian synagogues during the Middle Ages. The rabbis may have permitted its dissemination to prevent Jews from turning to the Christian canon’s Books of the Maccabees.

Returning to my perspective on this story: I believe I was right to reject the notion that the Greeks were inherently evil or that Antiochus IV Epiphanes was a monster.

Antiochus IV Epiphanes did not harbor hostility toward Jews or their beliefs. The desecration of the Temple was not motivated by malice but by necessity. Facing dire financial straits, he plundered the Temple’s treasures to pay a crippling tribute of 15,000 talents imposed by the Romans. To contextualize, one talent equated to the annual salary of 35 legionaries—roughly $1 million in modern terms. The treasures he seized amounted to 1,500 talents, or approximately $1.5 billion today—merely 10% of the tribute demanded.

This wasn’t an isolated act. Antiochus plundered other temples across his realm for the same reason. The accusations of intolerance and persecution attributed to him are largely fabrications. Generally speaking, ancient pagans were tolerant and respectful of diverse cults. What we anachronistically call “religious intolerance” is a product of monotheism. The heathens that Philo labelled polytheists —the term is a monotheistic invention— were tolerant.

Antiochus neither outlawed circumcision nor persecuted individuals for their beliefs. Allegations that his soldiers stationed in the Acra fortress, within Jerusalem's city walls, sacrificed pigs are likely true, and this act deeply offended pious Jews. However, the outrage primarily stemmed from their intolerance of the legionaries' cultic practices. The soldiers did not compel others to eat pork; they were simply content to have enough for themselves. (**)

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(*) There are only some scarce derogatory mentions of the Hasmoneans in the Talmud. (**) The case for Antiochus is best exposed by Niesiołowski-Spanò (2016)

Antiochus IV Epiphanes and the Jews - A Reassessment

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