The First Book of Maccabees was written about 100 BCE, not long after the first Chanukah was celebrated. It’s an embarrassingly political book, celebrating the power of the Maccabean family, the Hasmonean (Chashmona’i) dynasty.
The book begins by praising the power of Alexander the Great, who spread the best of Greek culture through the ancient Mediterranean region by building schools and libraries. But Antiochus, a minor king of Hellenized Syria, tried to spread Greek culture using coercion and violence. The Judeans, led by the Maccabees, resisted successfully. They restored the Temple, and crowned the leaders of the resistance as their kings. This is the story line of the book. It does not include the miracle of the oil. That part of the story was first told hundreds of years later in the Talmud.
The animal stars of the First Book of Maccabees are the elephants. Not just any elephants. Gigantic, mythical, monstrous elephants, trained in battle, wearing wooden towers on their backs, carrying thirty-two soldiers each. Exactly the elephants you saw in Lord of the Rings. Because the designers in the Lord of the Rings took their design straight out of the First Book of Maccabees, chapter 6, verse 37.
According to the First Book of Maccabees, Antiochus’ army had one hundred and twenty of these living tanks, each escorted by 1,000 infantrymen and 500 cavalry. One brave Jewish soldier named Eleazar Savaran ran underneath an elephant, stuck a spear in, and killed it. The elephant collapsed on him, he died, and the rest of the Jewish army ran away in terror.
Did these gigantic elephant warriors really exist? Of course not. They are fantastic literary images that make the battle story more exciting. And (of course) they are metaphorical hints about the nature of the miracle of Chanukah.
So let’s explore what the metaphor of an elephant might mean in Jewish literature – specifically, in the Talmud.
Chazal, our Talmudic sages, had three strong opinions about elephants. Elephants are really smart, really large, and really strange.
If you’re thinking along with me, you’re already interpreting the meaning of the elephants at the center of battle. They represent Antiochus’ army: really large, commanded by really smart generals, using really unusual tactics. But the Maccabees defeated them anyway. (“Stronger and smarter than an elephant!” – that’s the Maccabean slogan.)
Let’s look a little more deeply into the three Talmudic opinions about elephants: smart, tall, and strange.
Chazal recognize that an elephant is smart enough to serve as a courier. So theyask, “Can a trained elephant deliver an item of symbolic significance?” Some say that a reliable elephant can be trusted to find its destination. But others explain that when the elephant arrives, it will not be able to explain the meaning of the item. So chazal conclude, if the sender has let the recipient know in advance what he or she is receiving, the item may be delivered by an elephant.
Meaning: an elephant may be amazingly smart, but it is not part of our society, it does not speak Hebrew or Aramaic, and it does not think in our symbol system.
Chazal recognize that an elephant is tall enough to serve as the wall of a sukkah. So they ask, “Can you use an elephant for the wall of your sukkah?” No, they answer, because it might walk away. But what if you tie it up, or tie it down? Well, no. It won’t walk away, but it might die.
Meaning: An elephant may be amazingly tall, and thus it may be useful for all kinds of odd jobs. But we do not get to use the elephant, because it has not consented to be part of our project.
Maybe the elephants represent Antiochus’ soldiers. They do not buy into Antiochus’ project of forced cultural assimilation. And without commitment to the cause, they cannot support the building of an empire. To build a society, you need love and commitment – which the Maccabees have, at least in their own opinion.
But there’s more.
Chazal say: when we are lucky enough to see an elephant we should bless God, and say: Blessed is the One who varies the creatures – or, in Hebrew, Baruch mishaneh et haberiyot.”
The Hebrew verb mishaneh is related to the noun shinui, which means change.
Maybe, in the book of Maccabees, elephants represent faith and hope. The Judean soldiers saw how difficult it was to challenge a living tank, and they ran away in fear. But later, when they gathered to debrief the battle, they analyzed the symbolic power of the elephants said, “God, you introduce change! We do have the courage to continue.”
The Hebrew word for elephant is pil. Chazal said, “If you see a pil, an elephant, in your dream, then pela’aot, wonders, will manifest in your life.” And that’s what happened to the Maccabees. In the crazy, chaotic, nightmare of battle they saw elephants. At first, the elephants seemed to be terrible a symbol – and in the end, they announced a pelah, a wonder, and a nes, a miracle.
We all know how amazing elephants are. They are social, gentle, and loyal, open to friendship across species. They speak a language we can’t physically hear. And their survival is endangered. But my point today isn’t about elephants.
It’s about Chanukah, and its messages of hope.
Sometimes we encounter challenges that are as great as a giant beast. We try to meet them, and they collapse on top of us. We run in fear, because we are at the end of our resources. And sometimes it seems that we are truly defeated.
But with time, and reflection, and love, and commitment, and support from someone who buys into the goal, and faith that things can be different, we can heal and arise and move forwards.
It’s a true message, but a dangerous one to carry. We know what happens when we are lost in dark times, and a friend dares to say, “You’ll get through this…it just takes time.” We may feel as if the friend is the beast we should skewer from below! But if we read the same message in a book, we are more likely to let it seep slowly into our consciousness.
That’s the hidden miraculous power of the elephants of Chanukah. They are a hint whispered in a dream, a subtle symbol casually folded into a good book. They remind us that we can go beyond the end of our resources.
It’s the same teaching offered by the miracle of the lights – enough oil for one day burns for eight. But it is older, more subtle, and perhaps – because it comes through an animal — even more alive.
You may remember Perek Shira, the medieval text in which every animal is assigned a verse of praise in accordance with its spiritual nature. In Perek Shira,the elephant sings, Ma Gadlu Ma’asecha Yah, Mi’od amku machshevotecha.How great are your deeds, God, how deep and subtle are your thoughts.
Chag sameach.
— Laura Duhan Kaplan, 2010
Image: (c) New Line Cinema