“You delivered the mighty into the hands of the weak, and the many into the hands of the few.”—Text of the Al Hanisim prayer of Chanukah
December 22, Rambam Hospital, Haifa—The “many” who stormed Yerushalayim as part of the Greek/Seleucid assault were not merely many, they were a vast tide of warriors, a staggering force that the ancient world had never encountered. The Seleucid army, an imposing heir to Alexander the Great’s military legacy, stood as one of the most powerful and expansive forces of the Hellenistic era. They could marshal tens of thousands of soldiers for battle, sometimes over 70,000 strong, with infantry, cavalry, and even fearsome war elephants, towering and armored, which instilled terror among opposing forces. From every corner of their vast empire, the Seleucids conscripted mercenaries of various ethnicities to create a military machine that reflected their sprawling territories. It was against this seemingly unsurmountable force that the small bands of Maccabean warriors dared to confront. The army of “many” that marched upon Yerushalayim was indeed colossal and terrifying, with long-speared warriors charging in unison, flanked by rampaging elephants.
And, of course, the “few” who defended Yerushalayim and ultimately triumphed were astonishingly few. The Jewish population in Israel was sparse, with many still residing in Persia, reluctant to return to our ancestral land. At that time, the population of Israel did not surpass 250,000, making the task of assembling a substantial army almost insurmountable. Compounding the challenge was the sad truth that many Hellenized Jews not only refrained from defending Yerushalayim, but actively aligned with the Seleucid forces, turning their weapons against their own people.
The Chanukah battles also unfolded against the backdrop of an emerging rift between the Sadducees and Pharisees, deepening the fractures within the already fragile social fabric of the Jewish community, crippling our ability to mount a unified defense.
Though precise numbers are elusive, it is estimated that the Maccabee warriors faced staggering odds, often outnumbered ten to one. Yet, despite their diminutive numbers, their courage and resolve carved an indelible mark in history. Through Hashem’s miracles, the “many” were cast into the hands of the “few,” as His divine strength turned the tide of battle in the face of overwhelming odds.
{No Questions
They could have questioned their situation. They could have questioned why Hashem thrust this daunting challenge upon them. They could have questioned why so few had risen to defend the land of Israel. They could have questioned why so many other Jews remained in Persia, living in comfort and luxury, far removed from the bloodshed and sacrifice required to protect Yerushalayim.
Idealists don’t question. They did not look to the left or the right; they stand firm, eyes fixed on the mission entrusted to them, unwavering in their resolve to fulfill Hashem’s call. The Maccabees displayed unparalleled courage on the battlefield, yet their greatness extended far beyond military valor. In their steadfast hearts burned unyielding idealism and the ability to pursue lofty principles without questioning why others failed to join their cause.
Anytime you find yourself among the few, there’s a natural inclination to wonder why there are so few. Why are so few stepping forward and why is the weight of history resting on your shoulders rather than theirs? Yet, one of the enduring lessons of Chanukah is to never fear when among the few. Don’t ask why others are absent, or hope endlessly for their arrival. Instead, embrace the responsibility and the strength that comes with being part of the few, for that is where true courage lies. Idealism is always a lonely path, a road which stretches long and is untraveled by the many.
{Focused Ahead
Over the past few weeks, I have struggled to maintain my own focus on the singular task at hand of helping our son recover from his serious injury. During down-time, my mind has been overwhelmed with swirling questions: Why did this happen to him? Why did worse happen to other families? Tragically, a different soldier was killed in the same drone attack on my son’s unit. Why did we receive a miracle?
These questions gave birth to deeper, more painful reflections. During the past fourteen months, my seven sons and sons-in-law spent countless days in reserve duty, defending our country, placing immense strain on our family, as it did on thousands of other Israeli families. Had more soldiers answered the call, their burden would have been lighter. Why are we so few? Where are all the others?
By definition, the few will always be haunted by doubts and distracted by comparisons. They can choose to dwell on the decisions of others, or they can embrace the fate Hashem has given them and seize the opportunity to excel within that framework—choosing not to question the circumstances or decisions of others.
{It is Lonely to be the “Few”
It has required enormous courage, emunah, and mental tenacity to banish these questions from my mind. Being part of the “few” feels incredibly lonely and isolating. I haven’t been home in over five weeks, and the weight of loneliness is heavy. I have spent countless hours in hospital corridors sitting on hard chairs without much contact with the outside world. Yet, this loneliness pales in comparison to the existential solitude of being part of the “few.”
I have drawn strength from people facing similar—and even worse—situations, listening to their strength, clarity, and unwavering resolve without the burden of questioning. I haven’t heard them posing too many questions. What I have consistently heard is “If we don’t show up who will? If we don’t risk our lives to defend our homeland who will?”
I have worked hard, though not always successfully, to look forward and not sideways. To conduct myself with faith, compassion, and self-sacrifice without yielding to the haunting questions that have no real answers.
{The Voice of Faith
I believe this is the voice of faith, blocking out the static and distractions that come from comparisons with others. Simply speaking with Hashem within your own reality and responding to His expectations with the timeless phrase: “Hineni—Here I am.” Right before you, for you, and with you. When I stand before you, I do not glance to the right or left, only at you. I summon all my strength to meet your demands of me, and only me, with dignity and commitment, offering all that I can. If my gaze shifts to others, it means that I am not fully present before you. I seek only to look at You fully, and I wish for You to gaze upon me in the same way. “Hineni,” alone indeed, but alone with You.
{Jews Are Always The “Few”
Don’t ever be afraid to be part of the few. Being among the few is innate to Jewish history. Though we were compared to stars and sand, we were rarely a vast population, and certainly, over the past two thousand years, have always been a minority. Our religion was never popular, and we were often despised and discriminated against. Yet, we didn’t let our small numbers deter our conviction or our faith. We didn’t look to other nations and empires and compare our situation. Faith looks ahead, not sideways, not laterally.
Jewish history is now calling you to have the courage to be part of the few. The world around us has descended into moral confusion and bloodthirsty murder against Jews. You will always be outnumbered at protests and on social media. Being among the few and holding your ground is part of being Jewish. Chanukah prepared us for the long odyssey of Jewish exile, when we would wander the earth, always among the “few.”
Faith looks ahead, not sideways. Comparisons with other people distract and deflate. There is greater glory than in belonging to the “few.” n
Rabbi Michael Taragin is a rabbi at the hesder pre-military Yeshivat Har Etzion/Gush, with YU ordination and a master’s in English literature from CUNY. His most recent book, Reclaiming Redemption: Deciphering the Maze of Jewish History (Mosaica Press), is available in bookstores or at www.reclaimingredemption.com.
