Rabbi Shmuel Rabinowitz, Rabbi of the Western Wall and Holy Sites
In the glow of Chanukah’s tiny flames, we revisit the distant history for which we thank God “for the miracles and wonders.”
We celebrate Chanukah in memory of the Hasmoneans, who mustered courage and waged a fierce war against the army of Antiochus IV, the fourth king of the Seleucid dynasty. Despite being few against many and weak against strong, they won the battle, purified the Temple of Greek idols and the impurity left behind, and rededicated it. Following the war, they found a small flask of oil, and miraculously, though it contained enough oil for only one day, it fueled the Temple menorah for eight consecutive days. This is the story of the “miracle of the oil.”
More than 2,000 years have passed since then, and we might wonder what this celebration means for us today.
To grasp the essence of the Chanukah miracle, it is helpful to reflect on the many lessons conveyed by our sages over the generations about that era and its lasting significance.
One such story is shared in the Midrash:
“On the Sabbath when the Greeks executed Yossi ben Yoezer, the pigh Priest of Tzreida and president of the Sanhedrin, his nephew, Yakum Ish Tzrorot, a Hellenist, saw his uncle being led in a death cart. From atop his splendid horse, he mockingly called out: ‘Look where your Master is taking you and where my master is taking me…'”
(Bereishit Rabbah 65)
Yakum’s taunt echoed the well-known question, “Why do the righteous suffer while the wicked prosper?”
Yossi ben Yoezer responded with a few words that pierced his nephew’s heart. Yakum reflected deeply, repented, and immediately arranged a simultaneous execution for himself, choosing to die out of remorse and a broken spirit.
The Midrash recounts that, seeing this, Yossi ben Yoezer declared:
“In a brief moment, he (Yakum Ish Tzrorot) preceded me to Paradise.”
Yakum, the Hellenist and sinner, entered the World to Come—Paradise—before the President of the Sanhedrin.
The Midrash shares another story:
“When the Greeks sought to enter the Temple Mount during Antiochus’ time, they said: ‘Let a Jew enter first.’ They approached Yosef Meshita, saying: ‘You go in, and whatever you take out will be yours.’ He entered and took out a golden menorah. The Greeks told him: ‘It is not proper for a commoner to use this; go in again, and whatever you bring out will be yours.’
At that moment, a spirit of repentance filled Yosef Meshita’s heart. He refused to go back in, saying: ‘It is not enough that I angered my God once—shall I anger Him again?’
These two stories are brought by the Midrash in connection with the verse about Isaac when Jacob approached to receive his blessings. As it says:
“And he smelled the fragrance of his garments (begadav)” (Bereishit 27:27).
Our sages explain that Isaac was not merely smelling Jacob’s garments but foreseeing the “fragrance of the traitors (bogdav).” Isaac envisioned future Jews who would betray their people and heritage, yet he rejoiced, knowing that even they would find repentance—even if only at the end of their lives—and their repentance would carry the fragrance of Paradise.
Rabbi Tzadok HaKohen (a Rebbe, thinker, kabbalist, and prolific author, 1823–1900, Lublin, Poland) commented on this, saying that the moral of these stories, which occurred during the Greek decrees, lies in the remarkable discovery of “the fragrance of the traitors.”
In the time of the Maccabees, beyond the extraordinary love shown to Israel through the heavenly miracles of victory and the oil flask—despite the people’s sins—there was a refreshing revelation: even those deemed “traitors” could find acceptance and favor before the Divine Throne, bearing the fragrance of Paradise.
During Chanukah, the days of light triumphing over darkness, as the small flames illuminate the night, let us remember the fragrance of Paradise that exists within every Jew, no matter who they are.
