The following story was written by HaRav Halpern almost
fifty years ago. It tells the story of Chanukah in a dramatic
and poignant way, from the (fictionalized) perspective of a
young Hellenizer (Misyavein) who lives through the
events. With it we also note HaRav Halpern's first yahrtzeit,
16 Teves.
It was with misgivings that Phidias saw Philodemos crossing
the lofty-pillared Propylaeum towards him. Philodemos, though
a Jew himself, was the strictest and most pedantically
Hellenistic of Phidias's teachers, and the very sight of him
always made him uncomfortable.
"Well, Phidias," said the teacher, "let me hear the poem you
were to compose. I hope its hexameters do not shuffle along
as abominably as you were doing just now!"
That was just like Philodemos; always reminding him of his
ungracious way of moving and talking. Was it his fault that
he had come to the school when he was already twelve?
He had been sent there by his uncle after his father's death;
until then he had been at a Jewish school and had been called
Yosef.
Phidias had tried very hard to become a proper Greek all
these three years, for he admired Greek culture. But it was
no good. He could not be like the others. And that was what
he had been brooding on this last hour instead of doing his
poem.
True, he was good in Geometry and Natural Philosophy, and his
pronunciation and style were improving. But he was no good at
the real culture subjects. He still felt horribly shy to go
naked at the sports and he still moved clumsily. "Here is one
boy," the sports master used to say, "who will never run at
Olympia." And how they all laughed at that!
What would he not have given to be like the others! To walk
and talk like a real Greek, to be able to throw the discus as
gracefully as the beautiful statue, a copy of the famous one
by Myron of Athens himself, which stood in the gymnasium, and
not, as the teacher said, ". . . like a Galilean shepherd
throwing stones at his dog."
Or debating. His teachers -- and the best boys -- could turn
out the most elegant arguments about any subject you set
them, even about nonsense. But when Phidias spoke, the
teacher said: "You sound like one of your old prophets. And
what's worse, as if you had been translated at Alexandria.
Can't you stop shouting from your throat and think of some
logical argument instead?"
And they were right. He made a fool of himself every time he
spoke, no matter how true his point was. To be sure, there
were many boys who couldn't think of anything original to
say, good or bad, but nobody reproved them as long as they
were good at Gymnastics.
No, Phidias had thought, he would never excel at anything
worthwhile. He would end up as a letter-writer, or with luck
as an architect. Much as he would have liked to be a really
cultured man, he was just not good enough.
Then there was Religion. He was exempt from assisting at
sacrifices, but he had to attend and watch and that was
really painful. Much of it was very beautiful to see, but he
knew all the time that it was all wrong. These gods the
Greeks believed in! They robbed and killed each other like
the worst of men.
Sometimes it made Phidias doubt if the Greeks were really as
clever as he believed. Of course, he didn't say a word.
Socrates had died for doubting the gods, and Socrates was a
great philosopher even if one did not accept everything he
had said. How would it look if a little Jew-boy were to try
reforming the Greek religion? Why, he would be killed like a
dog!
All the same, why did they want the Jews to accept everything
they did? Could one not have Greek learning, and yet keep to
the religion of one's fathers?
Alas, he kept very little of his own religion. He prayed
sometimes, but not properly; he had forgotten the words. If
he had stayed among Jews, he would be wearing tefillin
now -- the very pair his father had bought for him when he
was still too young to wear them and which his mother was
keeping for him. He ate no pork if he could help it, and no
meat at all if it could be managed. He had to write on
Sabbath sometimes, but what could he do? He had to obey his
uncle, hadn't he?
Of these things Phidias had been thinking, instead of the
poem. Now he would have to find the best excuse he could.
"I beg your forgiveness, Sir," said Phidias, "but I have been
unable to concentrate on the poem."
"Yes," remarked the teacher, with the enigmatic smile he so
often affected. "I thought as much. Perhaps your thoughts
were occupied with the incident at Modi'in? A fine mess your
priests are getting into! Well, never mind; give me your
opinion on it, as if you were speaking in the debating
lesson."
Phidias had thought about the incident, though not just then.
It was discussed everywhere and opinions differed from one
extreme to the other; Phidias had considered them, and
arrived at a balanced opinion.
What had actually happened was this: Some priests,
accompanied by soldiers, had come to the township of Modi'in
to try to induce the population to sacrifice to Hermes. That
was being done all over the country, on government orders.
But in Modi'in there had been an incident.
Matathias the Hasmonean, an aged and famous Cohen who lived
in the town, seized a sword from a soldier and killed a
certain Jew who had sacrificed. Then, raising the gory
weapon, he raised the ancient cry: "To me, whoever is for G-
d!"
Many local men had rallied to him and they put the Syrians to
flight. The rebels had taken to the mountains, and the
government was collecting forces to hunt them down, but it
was known that many Jews were joining the rebels and there
might be resistance -- though of course it could not possibly
last long.
When Phidias had quickly gone over his points in his mind, he
began, in his best style:
"In my opinion the rebellion at Modi'in must be deplored by
every right-thinking person. Armed revolt against the
rightful government can never be the correct and democratic
way of settling a question. At the same time I must say that
the local governors, or their executive officers, must bear a
portion of the blame, for by their recent attitude of
intolerance of Jewish beliefs, which is not in the highest
tradition of Greek enlightenment, they have inflamed the
feelings of the population. They should have been content to
spread culture in the same quiet and peaceful way as our
noble school, whilst respecting the religious feelings of the
Jews. Or, if they wished to propagate the Greek religion,
they should have done so in public speeches and philosophic
argument and not by force.
"Furthermore, I should like to observe that the rebels,
deplorable though their action is, have shown a spirit of
heroism and nobility which was thought to be dead amongst the
Jews. By taking up a hopeless fight when nothing but ideas
were at stake, they have followed in the steps of the old
heroes of whom Greek poets sing.
"In this respect, the rebellion can be called a triumph of
Hellenism. And I may conclude with the hope that when the
wrongs of this unfortunate affair have been made good and
forgotten, the stand of the few will be remembered as an
example to inspire future generations of young Jews to deeds
of fortitude and nobility."
The teacher's face had grown purple during this speech. He
replied:
"My dear Phidias, it seems that this school has taught you
nothing at all. Either you are making a joke of a most
serious thing or you are as impractical and illogical a
Jewish dreamer as ever existed.
"To admit the action as wrong, and in the same breath to call
it noble, nay, to compare it to the exalted exploits of Greek
heroes, is the worst example of sophistry and blindness to
truth I have heard for a long time.
"To accuse the King -- for you know very well that the new
policy was ordered by him -- of intolerance, is the height of
impertinence, apart from being rebellious. Are you suggesting
that one should tolerate every local superstition that stands
in the way of enlightenment, progress, and unity of the
realm? Does your tribal law tolerate other religions? Did the
Jews protest when all other tribes were induced to accept the
truly universal religion of Greece, in which the philosopher
and the washerwoman, the soldier and the merchant, can each
find a god to his liking? Is not the need for force due
solely to the stubbornness of the Jews, alone amongst all the
formerly barbaric tribes?
"Finally, how can you represent this ugly uprising as a
protest against intolerance when its first action was to slay
a devout and innocent man, a Jew himself, whilst he was in
the act of making a sacrifice?
"No, my dear Phidias, I see that you are in a bad state
indeed; in spite of what you say, you are more than half a
rebel yourself. This is partly our fault; we have neglected
our duty and pampered you, hoping that reason alone would be
sufficient. I have watched you during sacrifices and I know
exactly what you think in secret. I shall put the matter
before the teachers' council, and I will tell you now what I
am going to advise: Tomorrow you shall officiate at sacrifice
-- or be handed over to the courts as a rebel and traitor.
"Do not come to classes this afternoon. Instead think and
consider whether you are for or against us, so that tomorrow
you shall be able to give us your decision in a clear and
dignified way. Go now!"
***
Phidias went, hardly knowing where he was going. He was
shaken and frightened; he would have wept, but he had been
taught that only women and cowards ever cried.
What had he done to deserve this? He had only stated what he
had believed -- and still believed -- to be the truth. Had
not this very man taught him that one must tell the truth
even at the cost of one's life? That one must listen to the
opinions of others, even if they were wrong, without anger?
That one must argue to the point and never about the person,
and never take revenge on one's opponent for his honest
opinion? Was it possible that these cool philosophers did not
practice what they taught? That they were at heart as
excitable, conceited and selfish as ignorant people? If so,
why had he admired them all this time?
No, it could not be true, or -- or he had been wrong all the
time and the dirtiest village boy with his simple ideas was
better than he.
And what was he to do now? How was he to reason things out if
his life was threatened? Should he bow to force and pretend
he had changed his views? But if so, how could he go on
learning Philosophy if he really felt that his teachers were
evil men who had forced him to live a life of untruths?
Besides, he just could not do it. Sacrifice to Hermes? He had
broken many laws, but he was still a Jew. He could not deny
the true G-d.
Ought he to kill himself, as Socrates had done? No --
Socrates had been condemned by a court after defending
himself bravely: he had known what he died for; he had not
run away from a problem.
Run away? Was that what the teacher really wanted him to do?
Was that why no one had prevented him from leaving the school
-- for, he had just noticed, he had wandered far away from
the school buildings; he was now among the vineyards of the
Kidron valley.
But what was the point in running away! He would be caught in
the end, if the government really wanted him, and then he
would be called a coward as well as a traitor -- and this
time it would be true. No, he was no traitor; he was loyal to
the King and loved the Greek way of living -- but why could
they not leave religion alone?
***
What was that? Something was rustling amongst the vines near
the road. No one could be working in the vineyards this time
of year -- the grapes were far from ripe. A stray goat,
perhaps?
Phidias decided to look. He climbed over the stone fence and
followed the sound. There was somebody there: Phidias saw him
creeping through the vines: a boy about his own age, but
dressed in Jewish garb, in the long tunic of a yeshiva boy;
and he wore tefillin. But why was he hiding? Phidias
had nearly reached him when suddenly the boy turned round --
pointing a dagger at Phidias. "Stand!" he ordered, in Greek,
"or you die!"
"What is the matter?" exclaimed Phidias, in Hebrew. "Why are
you threatening me? I only came to look."
"You are a Jew," said the other. "But you are dressed like a
Greek." And raising his dagger he demanded: "To whom do you
belong?"
"Belong?" wondered Phidias. "What do you mean? Are you
talking of the rebellion? But that is a local affair, far
away! What are you doing in Jerusalem?"
"It is not a local rebellion any more!" replied the Yeshiva
boy. "It is a holy war which all Israel has to fight. And I
must know on which side you are, for I cannot let you betray
me to the soldiers."
"Is that so?" said Phidias. "Well, I promise I will tell no
one that I saw you. I swear it, by the G-d of Israel!"
"You swear by the G-d of Israel," said the boy. "But do you
believe in Him? Are you on His side? You are a Hellenist,
aren't you?"
"I believe in G-d!" declared Phidias. "Perhaps I shall have
to give my life for Him tomorrow!" And he told the boy what
had happened.
"And you are still hesitating?" asked the partisan. "You say
you will not give way. Then why let them kill you, when it is
your duty to kill them? Why don't you come away now and join
us?"
"But what is the good of it all?" demanded Phidias. "How long
do you think it can last? You are hiding in the mountains
now. As soon as the army gets its reinforcements you will all
be killed."
"Lord of the universe!" exclaimed the partisan. "Is that how
a boy speaks who has once learnt of the Torah and the
Prophets? Don't you know that G-d can help with many or few?
Don't you remember Gideon, and Jonathan, and Chizkiyah?
"And if it be G-d's will that we die? Is it not our duty to
die rather than bow to the idols?"
"But what do you hope to achieve?" asked Phidias. "Supposing
you could throw the king's armies out of Judea. What do you
want the country to look like? Do you want to give up all the
things we have learnt from the Greeks all this time, and go
back to a life of shepherds?"
"What does all that matter?" exploded the boy. "We can keep
the crafts and sciences, they belong to anyone. But don't you
see the real point? For a hundred years and more we have been
taking the gifts of the Greeks and allowed ourselves to be
deceived by their smooth tongues. We have become lazy in the
wealth they have brought into the country and, G-d forgive us
-- have treated His commandments lightly.
"You are only one of the Hellenizers, and not the worst of
them. But all over the country Jewish children are growing up
with the playthings of Athens, with arts and philosophies and
sports and tales -- and without knowing a word of Torah! And
now they want us to worship their idols!
"You have seen that Philosophy does not make a man good: your
philosopher wants to kill you in honor of idols in which he
probably does not believe himself -- or if he does, the more
foolish his philosophy. There is nothing in it, the whole lot
of their fancy stuff. What matters is that they are heathens,
and all they want in the world is to enjoy themselves -- and
be the masters of everybody else.
"We have the Torah, and no one else -- and instead of
teaching others something of the truth, we have been
learning, bit by bit, to be like them!
"At last they have shown their true face. Where are their
philosophy, their democracy and their morals, if they kill
people, even women and children, who will not exchange the
true G-d for naked marble figures? They are just as bad as
any enemies of G-d have ever been. No, worse! Because they do
not want to kill our bodies but our souls!"
They were silent. How fiery, thought Phidias, and how brave
and confident! And I, with my drill and sports and my
philosophy? I am supposed to be the noble one, the one who
will die for truth!
Maybe he is right and I have been playing with words, whilst
the soul of my people is bleeding to death. Is that the
spirit of Epaminondas -- no, forget all that! Is that the
spirit of a son of Judah?
He held out his hand and said: "Tell me where to go. From
this moment I fight on your side -- on G-d's side!"
And fight he did -- from the ambush actions to the pitched
battle in which the Syrian army was beaten and on to
Jerusalem where they drove the garrison from the Temple
area.
As he helped to pull down the idols that had been put there,
he remembered how he had torn down the Greek lies within his
own mind. As he learned of the miracle of the lights, he knew
that the light of the Torah would never be extinguished, but
would one day illuminate the whole world.
