Our shared experience of our respective holiday traditions, has been one of the highlights of the special relationship between Emmanuel Church and Boston Jewish Spirit. This is the fourth holiday season that I have been privileged to be this parish’s Rabbi in Residence – and each year, we have reflected together on the common themes and ideals that we all celebrate at this wonderful time. Indeed, one of the most significant examples of the growing cultural and religious diversity that is the hallmark of contemporary American society, is the way in which Chanukah and Christmas have come to be joined together in the popular consciousness as a shared holiday season.

It is, of course, always important to acknowledge the asymmetries and differences between these celebrations, particularly the very different places they occupy in our respective faith traditions. Christmas, as one of the two major festivals of the Christian Church, has its more accurate Jewish parallel in the autumn High Holy Day of Rosh Hashanah, the New Year. Easter, in turn, corresponds to both the pre-eminent sanctity of Yom Kippur, the Day of Atonement, as well as its more immediate historic and symbolic links to Passover.

And yet—while the common perceptions that equate Chanukah and Christmas are, on significant historical and theological levels, inaccurate—there are nevertheless many deep and meaningful parallels and connections between them.

One of the most important connections is the common root of both holidays in ancient and universal winter solstice celebrations – common to many cultures and religions. The celebration of light and life in the midst of the barren darkness and cold of winter, is certainly at the heart of both Chanukah and Christmas - so clearly reflected in the symbols of both holidays—the kindling of light and the ancient image of the “ tree of life”.

Both Judaism and Christianity incorporated these pre-existing celebrations into their respective developments of Chanukah and Christmas, adding, of course, distinctive new historical and theological meanings as well. The most ancient symbol of Judaism, the seven-branch candlestick, the Menorah, combines both motifs – God’s presence and creative power, embodied in Light – and the imagery of the many-branched tree as a symbol of God as the creative force in the natural world. The special nine-branch Menorah used for Chanukah, linked these ideas to the universal winter solstice symbolism celebrating light in winter darkness and life in the midst of nature’s barrenness at this season. And of course in later generations, Christian tradition also employed these earlier motifs in the celebration of the Feast of the Nativity, combining them into the evergreens and lights of the Advent wreath and the Christmas tree. Roman Saturnalia celebrations, Druid holly and Germanic evergreens may be the immediate precursors of modern holiday symbols, but the Biblical “tree of life” imagery, and the idea of Jesus- and by extension, the Christian Church, as a branch of the tree whose roots are in Judaism, lie at the heart of Christmas’s theological foundation.
This link is also clear in the ancient echoes of the Advent hymn “O Come, O Come Emmanuel”… which, in its use of the Hebrew word meaning “God is with Us”, and its evocation of the historical setting of Jesus’ birth in the midst of Jewish suffering under the Romans in the First Century, dramatically underscores the intersection of these two traditions.

Now to fully appreciate this convergence, we must understand the story of Chanukah—which commemorates the victory of the Jewish struggle against the oppression of the Hellenistic Syrian overlords of the land of Israel in the centuries following the conquering of the ancient Middle East by Alexander the Great in the fourth century BC.

Two centuries after Alexander’s relatively enlightened and benevolent policy of tolerance of religious and cultural diversity in his far flung empire, his successors became ever more zealous in their efforts to impose—by force—Greek culture, language and religion on their subjects. In 170 BC, the Greco-Syrian ruler of Israel, Antiochus IV, defiled the great Temple in Jerusalem with the erection of a statue of Zeus within its Sanctuary, and decreed that the most important observances of Judaism were to be prohibited. A rebellion broke out in the year 168 BC. The leader of the humble shepherds, farmers and villagers who joined in this grass roots resistance, was Judah, the son of Mattathias. His ragged band of rebels took the name Maccabees— formed by the first letters of the Hebrew words that they adopted as their motto, a phrase from Exodus 15:11, “Who is like unto You O Lord, among the mighty?”

Despite daunting, overwhelming, and indeed impossible odds, the rebellion of this small rabble against the greatest military force of the time was dramatically and miraculously victorious. Three years later in the winter of the year 165 BC, the Maccabees recaptured Jerusalem, drove out the tyrannical rulers and - significantly - on the 25th day of the Hebrew month of Kislev, mid December in 165 BC, rededicated the Sanctuary to the worship of the God of Israel. They ordained a new festival of freedom and thanksgiving they called Chanukah—the Hebrew word for “dedication”. The mythic narrative of these events included the popular miracle story of the lights of the Temple menorah burning undimmed for eight days during that first celebration of the newly instituted holiday.
But within a century, a far more powerful and cruel oppressor was to descend upon Israel—the ruthless power of imperial Rome. It was in the tumultuous years of the early first century BC, with the Maccabeen spirit of resistance and rebellion against tyranny resurfacing once again among the people of the Roman Province of Judea, that the stage was set for the events surrounding the birth, life and death of Jesus.
And in no sense is the direct historical and spiritual link between Chanukah and Christmas more clear than in the context of the Gospel story of the Annunciation, whose major text, the Magnificat was so beautifully sung this morning as today’s Motet.

Mary—more accurately Miriam - the Galilean peasant girl of the tiny village of Nazareth, is visited by the angel Gabriel who tells her that she is about to give birth to a child. The familiar text relates how troubling this announcement was to the young girl. However, the usual focus on her virginity, was actually, the least of the disturbing implications of her encounter with Gabriel. Mary may have been a simple illiterate peasant girl, but like all Jews she was acutely aware of the oppression of her people by the Roman forces who ruled over them. She would likely have been very familiar with the story of the heroism of Judah and the Maccabees two centuries earlier. And she would have been aware of the talk among the people of the village of hopes for a new redemption from tyranny. Mary and her family probably observed Chanukah, although still in a rudimentary form. As a national commemoration of liberation, the festival was, in this period, certainly suppressed by the Romans. And yet, Miriam of Nazareth would also have been fully aware of the profoundly dangerous and subversive political implications of the angel’s revelation—that her son’s name was to be Yeshua – Jesus - meaning “savior”, and that his destiny would be to bring a new spiritual redemption.

That such a deliverance could happen again—as had been granted in the days of the Chanukah story two centuries earlier—and that she, a simple young woman from an obscure desert village, would be the source of this miracle—was more than troubling for Mary. The gospel accounts, written in under the influence of Roman oppression, attempt to deflect the dangerous political implications of the story by focusing on Mary’s virginity and the seeming impossibility of her conceiving a child.

But when the angel tells her “With God, nothing is impossible”, it is the idea of a new liberation, and that her son would usurp the power of Rome, that surely must have seemed most miraculous of all. It is striking that this phrase seems to so clearly echo the words of Judah himself as recounted in the Chanukah story from the Apocrypha. When many expressed doubt and fear at the prospect of the small Maccabean band resisting the powerful forces of Antiochus, Judah replied “With the God of Heaven, it is the same to save by many or by few!”

And this faith in the miraculous power of God to change human history—to bring freedom and redemption - both political and spiritual - in the most unlikely circumstances – and in the most unexpected ways - is at the heart of both narratives. This message is, indeed, the most profound link between the Chanukah and Christmas stories. Above all the parallels—and the contrasts—between the two festivals, both ultimately affirm the miracle of redemption ... of liberation and salvation ... of God’s love ... and of the promised deliverance of all of humanity from every form of sorrow and oppression.

This hope was embodied in the Messianic movements that were popular in Judaism in that tumultuous period, as people sought a message of resistance and deliverance, just as their ancestors had experienced in the days of Moses. And while radically differing interpretations of the meaning and signs of the Messiah, eventually came to divide the later followers of the rabbi of Nazareth from their Jewish brethren, both Jews and Christians continued to yearn for and pray for the full realization of those hopes of universal deliverance and redemption.
This is the ultimate miracle we all still yearn and pray for today—a time in world history that seems all too much like the first century two millennia ago. Humanity still lives under the yoke of oppression and of war—of the denial of freedom and liberty to so many people in our world.
Chanukah and Christmas, both proclaim the promise of light in the midst of darkness… of life in the face of death… of liberation from all oppression… and of the hope for peace on earth. And both affirm that with God—who achieves His purpose whether by many or by few—nothing is impossible.

This morning’s continuing celebration of Advent, and the anticipation of these redemptions, is also echoed in the Chanukah tradition which begins with the kindling of one solitary candle on the first night of the Festival, and increases the light and joy as an additional taper is added to the Menorah on each of the successive 8 nights. The parallel ceremony of the weekly addition of candles to the Advent wreath, reflects the common theme of both Festivals – that our anticipation and hope for redemption grows steadily throughout this season. And the kindling of the lights of both Chanukah and Christmas remind us of a key dimension to the Messianic hopes of both of our faiths – that just as we must personally light the candles to illumine the darkness, so too - ultimately – it will be our personal initiative, energy and commitment that will be necessary to help fulfill the Messianic hopes we all cherish.

And so, as we prepare to usher in both of these beloved festivals in the coming days, may we all be granted faith in the possibility of such miracles, and a realization of each of our roles in making these dreams a reality!
May the Eternal light of the candles of the Menorah and those of Advent—and the Eternal hope proclaimed in the message of both Chanukah and Christmas— inspire love and courage in all of our hearts ... with faith and commitment to work for a world truly redeemed by justice and peace.

And so we now join in singing together the words of the ancient Chanukah Hymn, Ma-Oz Tzur, Rock of Ages – which indeed are echoed in the words of praise of Mary’s Magnificat, and in so many of the beloved hymns and carols of the Christmas season.