Sermon Standing Up to the Odds
Rev. Sarah Person
Light one candle, and don’t let it go out. That is a commandment for any time of year, but especially this time of year. Light one candle. Because the dark comes early. Because we have always defied the cold and scarcity with festivals of light. We celebrate the first detectable lengthening of daylight. We celebrate the birth of the new. Light one candle and don’t let it go out. We celebrate the steadfast persistence of good over evil. We celebrate spiritual enlightenment and sacrifice over selfishness and arrogance. We celebrate the triumph of the spirit over unbearable circumstances. Our winter festivals: the Muslim Eid-al-adha, the Buddhist Bodhi Day, the Jewish Hanukkah, the Christian Christmas, the Hindi Diwali, and many more throughout the world and throughout the ages celebrate enlightenment and sharing and the coming of the end of darkness for all.
The events that inspired Hanukkah are documented in history. When Alexander the Great swept through the Middle East in 336 BCE, he brought Greek civilization as a way to unite the conquered nations. Much of Jewish culture and laws were transformed under Hellenism; but many Jews were lured into the Greek way of life. When Antiochus IV ascended the throne of Syria in 176 BCE, Hellenization became a brutal assault to quell dissent. Antiochus had himself deified as Antiochus Epiphanes or God Made Manifest. In a fury after one failed battle with Egypt, Antiochus turned on Jerusalem and destroyed the city on a Sabbath day when Jews could not take up arms to defend themselves. To the survivors, Antiochus outlawed the essentials of Jewish life and worship. He placed statues of Greek gods in the temples and slaughtered forbidden animals on the altars and insisted that Jews prostrate themselves before idols.
Antiochus succeeded with brutality what the Jewish people had been unable to accomplish for a century and a half: a staunch resistance to being assimilated. An aged priest, Mattathias of the house of Hasmon and his five sons began a rebellion. The leaders were called Hasmoneans. When Mattathias died his sons Judah, John, Jonathan, Eleazar and Simon took control of the guerilla army under the leadership of Judah. Judah’s successes were so remarkable that he became known as the Hammerer, or Maccabee, and the fighters the Maccabeans. And they would fight on the Sabbath.
Antiochus underestimated these guerilla freedom-fighters and sent only small battalions to put down the revolt. At night, in the mountain passes and over rough terrain, the Maccabees overcame the Syrian forces again and again. In the fall of 164 BCE, Judah gathered his army for a surprise attack on Jerusalem and recaptured the city. One of their first acts was to enter the Temple, smash the idols, tear down the desecrated altar and reconsecrate the sacred space. The people celebrated for eight days. The eight day Sukkot feast had not been permitted for so long, so now they celebrated a “second” Sukkot which they eventually named Hanukkah after the rededication of the altar. Coming so close as it does to the winter solstice, the holiday signified great joy and happy renewal to the Jewish people.
It took a lot longer, centuries in fact, for Jewish authorities and rabbis to be happy with this holiday. They didn’t appreciate that it was a celebration of a military victory. And the eight lights of the Hanukiah (instead of the seven lights of the temple menorah) smacked of Greek practices. But they couldn’t ignore the folk custom and so offered a new interpretation of its significance: that it made manifest the spirit of Judaism, that people must be a light in the darkness of the world, and that hope should never die. Finally, the wonderful story of the oil lamps became part of rabbinical teachings around the year 500.
Hanukkah presents us with two wonderful but distinct messages: first that we must be aware of and wonder at the God-given miracles of the world; and second that we must respond to the wonder in the form of our mindfulness and obligations to others. One message is passive, the other is active. We light the candle and we are bearers of the light, not just observers. We are bearers of the light for those who live in darkness and we have an obligation to them. We have an obligation to help ourselves and others stand up and resist when circumstances are against us. This has always been an integral part of our history as Unitarians and Universalists: we were born out of resistance, and we our history is replete with social witness and activism.
The symbol of our flaming chalice was given to us by the artist Hans Deutsch in 1941 to honor and aid the work of the Unitarian Service Committee in war-torn Europe. He once said to Charles Joy of the USC, “There is something that urges me to tell you... how much I admire your utter self denial [and] readiness to serve, to sacrifice all, your time, your health, your well being, to help, help, help.
I am not what you may actually call a believer. But if your kind of life is the profession of your faith—as it is, I feel sure—then religion, ceasing to be magic and mysticism, becomes confession to practical philosophy and—what is more—to active, really useful social work. And this religion—with or without a heading—is one to which even a 'godless' fellow like myself can say wholeheartedly, Yes!”
The roots of the flaming chalice extend far back to Jan Hus, a Czech reformer who was burned at the stake in 1415 in part because he promoted sharing the communion cup with all who participated in celebrating mass. In his sermon “Other Pulpits, Other Ministries,” Rev. Mark Belletini recalls the story of one of his parishioners, a concentration camp survivor named Priscilla: “But most of all, I remember her remarkable testimony about the Hussite freedom-symbol which we now call "the flaming chalice." You must know that the Czech version of our symbol has a motto underneath it, "Pravda vitezi," which translates, "Truth overcomes," or "Truth prevails." Every single morning in that terrible camp, Priscilla told me, she traced a picture of a flaming chalice in the sand with her finger. Then she wrote the motto underneath it. "It gave me the strength to live each day," she said to me. "Whenever I drew the chalice in the dirt I knew in my heart that the assertions of Nazism would one day be overcome by the greater Truth that no human being may claim power over any other human being."
No human being may claim power over any other human being. Priscilla was a child when she thought those words and drew that chalice in the dirt. [Maryellen and Lydie were children when…] I think I am not sure that children are ever free from others claiming power over them. They have to cope and find what they need somehow in whatever circumstances they find themselves – because they mostly don’t have the power to change their circumstances. Unless, unless they have help. If there was one place to live our values, to help ourselves and one another, it would be here in the place of childhood. We know today that children in our midst are struggling. Children of all ages and income categories are suffering from stressed out families where they are at risk. There has been a steady increase in West Hartford alone of substantiated reports of abuse. And among us are parents who are trapped in a nightmare and consequences of dreadful, neglectful mistakes. The odds are against them, the children, the parents and the grandparents. Unless they have help. Unless we have help. Unless we help change the odds.
I once asked where does the power to change one’s life reside; does it develop over time, from within us, from outside of us? Perhaps it comes from all three, where and when we most need it. We are bearers of light. How can we embody this power and this obligation? By being, in the words of the Rev. Forrest Church, who we are, wanting what we have and doing what we can. Doing what we can means opening ourselves up to all the possibilities that we can afford life, rather than what life has to give to us. Mark Belletini said that Priscilla’s story transformed his view of worship: “For me,” he said, “the kindled chalice is no sweet little ritual, but a perfect invitation to live out my life in daily response to our demanding and powerful heritage.”
Do what you can. Be aware of the children in your midst and tell someone if you suspect abuse or neglect. Be aware of your own stress and find help. If you have the skills, volunteer as a board member or fund raiser for Youth Service Bureaus. If you have the resources, make a donation to the Children’s Trust Fund to help prevent abuse. If you have the confidence, be an advocate for a child in foster care during the judicial process – you don’t have to have a law degree. If you prefer volunteering with others, join the efforts of our church to provide goods and services to at-risk children and their families. If you have wisdom and stamina, volunteer at facilities for children with mental health and emotional needs. If you have self-understanding and experience, be a mentor. Help a teen to live on his or her own with your support and guidance. If you have space in your heart and your home, give nurturing care to kids coming from confusing and sometimes neglectful or violent homes by becoming a foster parent. If you want to give love, and receive that gift from a child who needs it so much, think about adopting a child. If you want to help families stay together, learn more about what breaks them apart and support the programs that address those needs.
We have in our congregation men and women who have survived dismal experiences and others who have been enriched by foster care and adoption. We have in our midst men and women who are adoptive parents and foster parents themselves and we have the children they are raising. We have in our midst those who have changed the lives of others and in so doing have changed their own lives for the better. By embracing their power. By doing the good. By changing the odds. By bearing the light. May it be so for all of us.
The Universalist Church
West Hartford CT
December 13, 2009