What was Miriam the Prophetess’ part in the Exodus from Egypt? How does the Jewish Midrash explain her role in the journey from slavery to freedom and why do some set aside a sixth cup for her at the Passover Seder table?
Postcard reproducing the work of German artist Ludwig Gustav Wilhelm Scheuermann (1859-1911), presenting the biblical image of Miriam, sister of Moses, holding a musical instrument. The Postcard collection, the National Library of Israel
As opposed to the Passover Haggadah, the Jewish Midrash tells us of the significant role played by Miriam the Prophetess in the Exodus from Egypt. Every Passover we are told of the Children of Israel’s journey from slavery to freedom, but it often goes unmentioned that Miriam the Prophetess, sister of Moses, had a significant role in that journey from Egypt to the Promised Land. These acts earn her, in some traditions, a place of honor at the Seder table.
What was Miriam the Prophetess’ role in the Exodus?
The Exodus is remembered in Jewish tradition as a rapid departure, almost a hasty flight, from Egypt. Thus, the Jews left the country so fast that they didn’t have time to properly bake bread, leading to the matzas we eat during the holiday instead.
We can imagine our ancestors quickly leaving their homes and barely managing to take food with them, grabbing what they could and getting out. It therefore seems very strange that just after the Red Sea is split in two and the People of Israel cross over to the other side, the Bible describes Miriam the Prophetess taking her timbrel and starting to play and dance.
“And Miriam the prophetess, the sister of Aaron, took a timbrel in her hand; and all the women went out after her with timbrels and with dances.”
(Ex. 15)
Anselm Feuerbach painting, 1862. Displayed at the Alte Nationalgalerie in Berlin
Where did Miriam manage to find a timbrel in the middle of the desert – did she take the time to bring it along during the hasty exit from Egypt?
When you are forced to leave as quickly as possible, you only take what you really need with you. It’s certainly logical to bring along that which is required to survive in the desert – food, water, clothes. Why did Miriam choose to bring a timbrel – a musical instrument akin to a modern tambourine? In his commentary, Rashi describes how Miriam and all the other Israelite women, during the challenging, complex, and even terrifying moments of the departure from Egypt, still believed there would be reasons for happiness, dancing, and merriment. “The righteous women in that generation were confident that God would perform miracles for them and they accordingly had brought timbrels with them from Egypt” [Rashi, Ex. 15:20]. Therefore, Miriam brought a timbrel with her on the journey. She knew she would have the opportunity to use it.
A photo of The Golden Haggadah, Barcelona, 1320. The Center for Jewish Art at the Hebrew University of Jerusalem
This is the unique strength which characterizes Miriam’s leadership throughout the Exodus: the power to believe that the painful reality can reverse itself. The power to try and bring about change, to imagine a better reality than the present one and to strive to realize it.
According to the Midrash, the entire redemption, all of the Exodus, was based on Miriam’s act of rescue. The Talmudic story tells us that when Pharaoh decreed that all the newborn boys be thrown into the Nile, her father Amram, a great leader in his generation, divorced his wife Yocheved, deciding that if the children were to be murdered anyway, then there was no point in having them and thus no point in being married.
The people followed suit and divorced their wives, too. A moment after Pharaoh’s terrible decree, the Talmud describes how despair gripped the people, with families collapsing wholesale.
It was in this atmosphere of doom that Miriam emerged as a leader: “His daughter said to him: Father, your decree is harsher than that of Pharaoh” (TB Sotah 12a). Miriam appeals to her father and reproaches him: your decree is harsher, as he only condemned the males, while you are also condemning the females. He is wicked and so his decree will ultimately be abolished. But you are ensuring the decree will be realized by your own hand.
Amram, a leader of the generation, is able to heed his daughter’s innocent, seemingly naïve voice, and decides to remarry his former wife, after which Moses is born. It is for this moment that the Jewish sages describe Miriam as a Prophetess: As a young girl, she saw beyond the immediate need for survival, beyond the here and now, and led to the birth of the People of Israel’s great leader. In a difficult moment of existential danger, Miriam managed to foresee the horizon beyond and believe in a better future. Operating within a difficult reality, she refused to give up.
Moses Abandoned on the Nile, by Paul Delaroche
When Moses was placed inside the basket, her mother doubted her and asked “My daughter, where is your prophecy?” (Ex. Rabbah 1). He and his wife were helpless and despairing. They sat at home, and the sorrow for their son filled their hearts. But again, Miriam refused to play along. She went to the river and made sure Moses found a home with Pharaoh’s daughter, taking care to ensure her prophecy came true.
Miriam’s strength came through in these moments, when despair seemed to be overtaking belief in the good.
Later on, as the People of Israel wandered the desert, the Jewish sages speak of how Miriam had a well, one containing flowing water and which she took everywhere. It was a well that allowed the People of Israel to drink water in the desert and survive its dryness. Miriam herself was a flowing well, especially in the hard times when despair spread, when things seemed doomed and there was no solution on the horizon. It was then that her vitality burst forth most prominently.
This is why a relatively new custom has emerged among certain communities of placing a cup for Miriam next to the traditional cup reserved for Elijah the Prophet during the Seder meal. The cup for Miriam, however, is filled not with wine but water, and is made of glass. It is a cup reminding us of the hope and belief in miracles that happen every day.
The custom of leaving a cup of wine for Elijah the Prophet is based on a halachic dispute over whether Jews are required to drink four cups of wine at the Seder – or five, one for each redemption of the Jewish People. Everyone agrees on the four cups, but the fifth is up for debate. Therefore, the custom emerged to place a fifth cup, but not to drink from it.
While Jewish religious jurists simply call this cup “the fifth cup”, it has become popularly known as the cup of Elijah. According to the Maharal of Prague, this name was given because Elijah is the symbol of redemption, and thus the cup of redemption is named for him. But according to the Gaon of Vilna, it is because Elijah will come at the End of Days and resolve all halachic disputes – including the question of the fifth cup.
The cup of Elijah attained a special status at the Seder table. Which is why we place Miriam’s cup next to it.
The cup of Miriam the Prophetess seeks to correct a historic and narrative injustice by securing a place of honor at the Seder table and in the story of redemption, for the women who also led the people:
“This is the cup of Miriam, the cup of living water, in memory of the Exodus. May it be God’s will that we merit drinking from the waters of Miriam’s well for health and redemption. May it be God’s will that we learn from Miriam and all the women to come out with timbrels and dancing in the face of the miracles of daily life and sing to God in every moment – Amen!”
The blessing written on Miriam the Prophetess’ cup seeks to give thanks for the ability to believe in the good even during difficult times, and gratitude for the strength to not surrender to despair or pain but rather to find the moments and points of light, and to sing, play, and rejoice in daily life.
From a distance everything looks like a miracle
but up close even a miracle doesn’t look like that.
Even someone who crossed the Red Sea when it split
Since the horrific events of October 7 and the subsequent war, a large chorus of voices have turned to the heavens, hoping to deal with their pain and confusion by praying to a higher power. This has been a typical Jewish response to war since biblical times, and continues into the modern age. Let’s explore some of these powerful wartime prayers, and find out where they truly come from.
Chief Rabbi of the IDF Shlomo Goren in Sinai reciting prayers for the IDF soldiers, 1970, Eitan Haber, the Dan Hadani Collection, the Pritzker Family National Photography Collection, the National Library of Israel
Israel is at war. How does that sentence make you feel? What is your response?
Some people feel anger at this, an anger that spurs them forward as they spend time volunteering, sharing content online about the conflict, and donating money to various Israeli causes.
Conversely, some people feel helpless or mournful, not knowing quite what to do with the difficult emotions that this war raises for them.
And at the same time, many people, when trying to deal with this turmoil, simply turn to a higher power – asking “why”, begging “please”, saying “help”.
During this time, there is of course not just one valid response, but the response that is perhaps often left unacknowledged, and sometimes seemingly adverse to outside commentary, comes from that last group of people – those who are, right now, grappling with, or turning to, their faith.
The Jewish Agency for Israel and the Sephardi Chief Rabbi Shlomo Amar urge Jews to say a specially composed prayer on Passover 2007 for Israeli soldiers held captive since the Lebanon War, The Australian Jewish News (Sydney), April 6, 2007, the Historical Jewish Press Collection at the National Library of Israel
This war, unfortunately, does not mark the first time in history that so many Jews have been massacred, and with each tragic slaughter of the Jewish people, a large chorus of voices turns to the heavens. Often the words which leave the mouths of these Jews during times of distress such as these are pre-prescribed: they come from a prayer book, are read in order and adhere to rituals which were determined long before our lifetime.
But these are not the only prayers that count. Spontaneous words from the heart have almost always had a place in Judaism, a fact that is somewhat surprising given the ostensible rigidity of the religion, and the structures upon which it relies.
But nonetheless, we can see that this is undeniably the case. Once upon a time, as told in the Book of Samuel, a biblical woman named Hannah stood at the entrance to the Tabernacle at Shiloh, rocking silently back and forth and muttering to herself, as tears welled in her eyes. The Jews around her assumed that she was a drunkard and looked unkindly upon her. However, what was really occurring was a silent but supremely powerful turning-point within the Jewish religion. Hannah was saying a silent prayer – without a prayer book, without a quorum of men, without prescribed words. Just a woman praying silently from the heart.
Since then, the idea of making up and reciting personal prayers has gained legitimacy, but while Hannah’s prayers focused on her childlessness, the concept of personal prayer really took off and became common within Judaism in the context of war.
King David is famous in Jewish tradition for having been an astute warrior and conqueror. Many of the Psalms that appear in the Bible are traditionally attributed to King David, and there is even a belief that he composed some of these hymns for his troops to use in prayer during war. For example, Psalms 20: 8-10 reads:
“These trust in chariots and these in horses, but we-we mention the name of the Lord our G-d. They kneel and fall, but we rise and gain strength. O Lord, save [us]; may the King answer us on the day we call.”
Another famous and even earlier biblical example of prayer entering Jewish liturgy during times of war is the story of how the biblical forefather Jacob prepared for his reunification with his estranged brother Esau. Jacob is warned that his brother is approaching, accompanied by 400 men. Fearing for his life, he decides to compose a prayer for salvation. Jacob’s prayer (Genesis 32: 10-13) echoes the words of the prayer we know today as Ha-Gomel, which is recited whenever a soldier returns from war, to this very day.
Chief Rabbi of the IDF Shlomo Goren in Sinai reciting prayers for the IDF soldiers, 1970, Eitan Haber, the Dan Hadani Collection, the Pritzker Family National Photography Collection, the National Library of Israel
We have many famous examples from the Holocaust of prayers being written to suit the spiritual needs of the suffering congregations and individuals during that time of great trauma. Jewish author and poet Alexander Kimel, for example, created a set of prayers for the victims of the Holocaust after surviving the ordeal himself. These prayers are now usually read as part of the Yahrzeit service on the High Holy Days, but many of the Jews reading his words do not know just quite how recently these prayers were actually composed.
Similarly, most synagogues around the world recite the Mi Sheberach prayer for the safety of Jewish soldiers each week on the Sabbath. To the casual listener, this classic prose might sound hundreds of years old, but that couldn’t be further from the truth! While the original Mi Sheberach blessing for the recovery of sick Jews dates back to the 12th century, it was only adapted for use when praying for Jewish soldiers by the former Chief Rabbi of the IDF, Rabbi Shlomo Goren, in 1956, while Israeli troops were fighting in the Sinai Campaign.
In 2006, during the Second Lebanon War, the eminent Rav Ariel Bar Tzadok wrote a prayer for the welfare of the state of Israel, using sources from Sefer Shoreshei HaShemot. Again, these prayers were adopted by the nation, and synagogues were soon full of people fervently repeating Ariel Bar Tzadok’s words in the hope that they would bring success in battle.
Then, in 2014, during Operation Protective Edge, Rabbi Dr. Nathan Lopes Cardozo was compelled to write the “Prayer on Behalf of the Jewish Soldiers Going into Battle” whose profound meaning touched many Jewish hearts around the world and became a constant daily chant for lots of Jews in various global congregations.
Newspaper article explaining new High Holy Day prayers written for Israeli soldiers fighting in the War of Independence, the Sydney Jewish News, 25 November 1949, the Historical Jewish Press Collection at the National Library of Israel
And even now, Rabbi Yitzchak Yosef, the Sephardi Chief Rabbi of Israel, and a man steeped in tradition, has requested that all Jewish congregations say his newly-written “Prayer for the Success of Am Yisrael” every day until the end of this current dreadful war. This novel prayer has become the new-normal in many synagogues around Israel, who pledge to read it aloud each day until the end of the war in Gaza.
President Chaim Herzog, Prime Minister Yitzhak Shamir, the Ashkenazi and Sephardi Chief Rabbis and others at a service in Jerusalem to offer prayers for the well-being of Jewish troops fighting in the Gulf, 1991, David Mizrachi, the Dan Hadani Collection, the Pritzker Family National Photography Collection, the National Library of Israel
So, while some people think of Jewish prayer as something stagnant or pre-prescribed, it is clear to see that this is very much not the case, especially during times of war. In fact, much of the war-time liturgy that so many Jews rely on for comfort, was composed in the recent past by modern Jews who felt just as much longing for safety, success and peace as we do today.
The Abridged Prayer Book for Jews in the Army and Navy of the United States, 1917. In addition to the expected material, it includes specially composed prayers for war, a “Prayer for the Government,” national anthems, “America”, “The Star-Spangled Banner” and “Hail, Columbia,” plus a calendar for 1917-1920, Jewish Welfare Board by Jewish Publication Society of America, the National Library of Israel
For those who utilize prayer to connect to the current war in Israel, it may come as some comfort to know that the words that many believe to hold so much power do not need to have been written over 2000 years ago. They can be as heartfelt as the inner feelings of parents missing their children, rabbis guiding their communities, and individuals standing on the precipice of uncertainty, unsure of how to look at the world around them, who instead look up to the sky and open their mouths to see what words fall out.
And who knows which of the prayers from today’s wars will end up etched on the pages of prayer books used by our great grandchildren for generations to come.
A Jewish Game of Thrones: The Bloody Tragedy of the Hasmonean Dynasty
We think we know them from the story of Hannukah and its miracles, but the heroic victory of Judah the Maccabee was just the prologue to the broader story of the Hasmonean Kingdom – a story that begins with a single family's dream of an independent Judea, continues with military and political glory papering over deep internal rot, and ends with destruction and the death of a beautiful queen at the hands of her husband
Miriam the Hasmonean on her way to execution, painting by Edward Hopley
“There is no real ending. It’s just the place where you stop the story.” – Frank Herbert
If there is a story where we almost never stop at the right point and almost never reach the (bitter) end, it’s the story of the Hasmoneans.
Every year, on the 25th of the Hebrew month of Kislev, we celebrate the moment of a glorious victory – a victory which seemed almost impossible, a true miracle. But this victory is really just the prelude to the story of the Hasmoneans, as both a family and a historically unique monarchical dynasty in the annals of the Jewish People.
To understand who they were, we would do well to re-examine the familiar Hanukkah story, and look beyond the usual “happily ever after” bit where we usually stop, to see what came after that glorious moment.
The Angel of the Maccabees, by Gustave Dore
It all started with a rebellion. Or perhaps the persecution that preceded it? They were tightly connected.
In the first half of the second century BCE, Jerusalem was ruled by the Seleucids, who we often call “the Greeks” in our Hannukah stories and prayers. Seleucus I was among the generals who inherited parts of Alexander the Great’s sprawling empire. The Seleucid Empire, though smaller than Alexander’s, still stretched from Asia Minor, Mesopotamia, Syria, and the Land of Israel, all the way to the Indus River at its height.
Antiochus IV, who ever so humbly called himself Epiphanes (“God Manifest”) and who has been commemorated by kindergarten teachers throughout the Jewish world as “Antiochus the Wicked”, rose to power at a bad time for his kingdom: his father had just suffered a very serious defeat at the hands of a new rising power to the west – Rome. He lost significant parts of his empire to the Romans (and other nations which jumped on the opportunity), and was forced to sign a humiliating surrender agreement which included astronomical reparations.
In the meantime, Jerusalem and the surrounding area of Judea had for centuries, since the famous Edict of Cyrus the Great, enjoyed a degree of religious autonomy, with the Jewish the High Priest presiding over worship at the Temple. The territory had been ruled by a series of empires which toppled one another – the Babylonians, the Medes, the Persians, the Macedonians, the Ptolemies, and now the Seleucids. But for most of this time, the Jews had a varying measure of religious freedom to maintain their worship in the Temple and the commandments and laws of their faith.
Historians are divided on what led Antiochus to change this arrangement which had worked so well for all his predecessors, but whatever the reason – he decided to intervene in the religious practices in Jerusalem and Judea, outlawing all Jewish rituals and desecrating the Temple.
It is here that the story we all know and love begins, though the degree of accuracy often varies in the telling: Mattathias the priest and his five sons raised the banner of rebellion. Whether the spark was an attempt to force the residents of Modi’in to bring a sacrifice to the Greek gods, or the story of Mattathias’ daughter Hannah, who rebelled against the terrifying decree of “the first night” – either way, battle was joined. Significant portions of the Jewish People gathered round Mattathias and his sons upon hearing the battle cry “Whoever is to God to me” (or something to that effect), sick of the cruel Hellenic oppression and willing to die to return to observing the Torah and its commandments in the open.
Mattathias and the Apostate, by Gustave Dore
Judah the Maccabee, the third of Mattathias’ sons, formed and led the small rebel army – at first, with guerilla actions and later in organized, open battles against the Seleucid army. He went up to Jerusalem with his soldiers and managed to take over large parts of it, most importantly the Temple – which was cleaned and purified. Jewish religious rituals resumed.
This is where the story of the miracle of Hannukah more or less ends – Judah the Maccabee defeated the armies of the Hellenistic empire and relit the Menorah or candelabrum in the Temple. The year was 164 BCE. Since then, every year, and in memory of the victory of the Jewish light over Greek darkness, we celebrate the holiday of Hannukah.
Mattathias, meanwhile, had passed away a year before, and did not get to see his sons’ success.
This event was not only the “happy ending” we celebrate every year, but rather the beginning of the long path to Jewish independent rule in Jerusalem and the Land of Israel – a rule which would ultimately become a monarchy for all intents and purposes and which would end in blood. Plenty of blood.
Season One – The Brothers
To be honest, it was bloody from the beginning.
Peace did not come after Judah’s famous initial victories. The Seleucids were not so quick to give up the lands they had ruled, and although the decrees of Antiochus (which had proven themselves to be a rallying cry for the majority of Jews to join with the Hasmoneans against the Seleucids) were rescinded, the Hellenistic kings continued to send troops to fight the rebels in Judea.
Six years after the miracle of the oil that lasted eight days instead of one, Judah was defeated by the general Bacchides, falling in the Battle of Elasa. His brother Eleazar also perished when he was trampled to death by one of the Seleucid army’s war elephants. For a while, it appeared the original status quo had been restored – the Greek religious persecutions had been undone, but so too, it seemed, had the Hasmonean victory.
The Heroism of Eleazar, by Philip James de Loutherbourg
The Hasmoneans and their supporters, however, were not gripped by despair. The leadership of the rebellion was taken up by another Hasmonean brother – Jonathan, who was a gifted commander and perhaps more importantly – a skilled diplomat. He returned the Hasmoneans to Jerusalem after a series of military victories, while working primarily at the diplomatic level, especially by cleverly exploiting the endless infighting among those claiming the Seleucid crown. He convinced the Seleucid authorities to give him effective control, and in 150 BCE, he received the titles of strategos (general) and “meridarch” (akin to a civil governor).
Jonathan managed to hold these title for seven years before being murdered by a Seleucid ruler – Diodotus Tryphon. He was replaced as leader by Simon – the last brother left alive.
All these stormy events in Judea were accompanied by a family situation which had no equal throughout history: While still alive, Mattathias had been the clear leader of the rebellion, even though his age likely prevented him from participating in the battles themselves. After his death, he left the leadership to his five sons, advising them to follow Judah – who was not the eldest, but whom Mattathias considered the most appropriate one to lead the nation in war.
And they indeed followed Judah, just as they would later follow the brothers who succeeded him.
Scholars question almost every detail about this period, but one thing still remains unequivocally clear – Mattathias’ sons did not fight amongst themselves. The torch kept being passed from one brother to the next as the fight against the Seleucids continued and the brothers died one after the other, with the next one’s leadership never being questioned by his siblings.
Simon, the last of the brothers, was the one who secured full independence for Judea. He didn’t yet call himself a king, but the moment he fully took the reins of civilian control from the Seleucids and the tax burden was lifted (in 140 BCE) is the moment from which we officially begin counting the years of Hasmonean reign.
The First Book of Maccabees (15:1-9) tells of this moment:
“Antiochus, son of King Demetrius, sent a letter from the islands of the sea to Simon, the priest and ethnarch of the Jews, and to all the nation, which read as follows:
“King Antiochus sends greetings to Simon, the high priest and ethnarch, and to the Jewish nation […] I authorize you to coin your own money, as legal tender in your country. Jerusalem and its sanctuary shall be free. All the weapons you have prepared and all the strongholds you have built and now occupy shall remain in your possession. All debts, present or future, due to the royal treasury shall be canceled for you, now and for all time. When we establish our kingdom, we will greatly honor you and your nation and the temple, so that your glory will be manifest in all the earth.”
Simon was a wise and beneficent ruler, chosen by an assembly of the people to be their “leader and high priest forever, until a trustworthy prophet should arise”. He conquered additional cities in the Land of Israel such as Gezer and Jaffa, and even succeeded in taking over the Acra – the fortress of Greeks and Hellenized Jews that had remained a thorn in the side of residents of Jerusalem for so long.
Six years passed in relative quiet since that happy day of independence, until family strife encouraged by the Seleucids brought about tragedy and betrayal. Simon’s father-in-law, Ptolemy son of Abubus, who received control of the city of Jericho and its surroundings while maintaining secret relations with the “current” Antiochus (VII), invited Simon and his sons to a feast at his home, where they were cruelly murdered, as Ptolemy hoped to gain the throne of Judea for himself.
Unfortunately for him, one of Simon’s sons – John Hyrcanus – didn’t attend that bloody feast, surviving his father and becoming the Prince and High Priest in his stead.
Season Two – The Bloody Rule of the First Kings
During the reign of John Hyrcanus, Mattathias’ grandson, the internal rift between the different religious factions deepened. Hyrcanus had begun his rule like his father and uncles before him – as a religious leader and priest ruling by virtue of broad public support. But a number of choices he made and disputes regarding his position (can a High Priest be a military leader engaged in conquest and killing?) pushed his form of rule towards that of an absolute monarchy relying on force-of-arms, little different than what could be seen in the surrounding Hellenistic monarchies. His successors would continue to enhance this trend. Greek culture began to become dominant in the institutions and customs of the ruling class. John (Yochanan) was the first to take a Greek name – Hyrcanus – and after him, this practically became the standard.
Hyrcanus ruled Judea for 31 years, the first Hasmonean ruler to die of natural causes. Before his death, he sought to hand over rule to his wife. But his son, Judah Aristobulus I didn’t like the idea, and when his father died, he simply imprisoned his mother and most of his brothers and declared himself King.
Hasmonean coins. The power to mint coins was an important marker of economic and political independence
The rule of the first King in Judea since the Biblical era was not a model of benevolent government, nor did it leave a significant mark on history. But Aristobulus I did apparently make at least one good decision: He married a woman named Salome (Shlomtziyon) Alexandra. She was the sister of Simon Ben Shetach – one of the greatest of the Pharisees and the president of the Sanhedrin – but she would yet stand out in her own right.
Aristobulus died from an illness just one year after coming to power. Salome Alexandra freed his imprisoned brothers (his mother died in jail), and married the oldest of them, who was still younger than her – Alexander Jannaeus.
Alexander Jannaeus was a king from the very first, with all that entails. He set out on extensive campaigns of conquest and vastly increased the size of his kingdom, taking over the Hellenistic coastal cities, and conquering Gaza and large swathes of the east bank of the Jordan River.
Map of the Land of Israel and the Hasmonean Kingdom following the conquests of Alexander Jannaeus. From the Eran Laor Cartographic Collection at the National Library of Israel, courtesy of Amir Kahanovitz
According to most testimonies, Jannaeus was a cruel and tyrannical ruler who did not hesitate to use foreign mercenaries to massacre his opponents, of which there were many. He did not heed the mood of the people, and at least two significant rebellions occurred during his reign. During one of these, it is said that over 800 rebels were hung on the city walls, as Jannaeus held a vulgar banquet in front of them. He even wanted to execute his brother-in-law, a leader of the Pharisees, but Salome Alexandra managed to hide her sibling and save his life.
After less than thirty years on the throne, Alexander Jannaeus died in a manner similar to his namesake – from a disease he was stricken with during one of his campaigns. He was succeeded, finally, by a woman. His wife.
Season Three – The Days of the Good Queen Salome
Salome Alexandra was considered by many to be the best monarch of the bunch, certainly when it came to internal affairs. She brought the people, who were largely affiliated with the Pharisee party, back on her side, and her rule excelled in its almost unprecedented economic and political stability.
In her day, for the first time since Judah the Maccabee renewed the rituals of the Temple, the leadership was split up – Salome Alexandra ruled as Queen, but she granted the title of High Priest to her eldest son – Hyrcanus II.
Her second son, Aristobulus II, refused to reconcile with his mother’s reign and his brother’s priesthood. At first, he sufficed with leading the military elite, which set out on a number of campaigns in the name of his mother the Queen, but at the end of her life, when it was clear she was dying and unable to fully manage the kingdom, he gathered a loyal army around him, took control of many fortresses, and declared himself King.
Queen Salome Alexandra (Shlomtziyon), by Guy Bartholomew. Rome, 1751.
The figure of Salome Alexandra, and the fact that she was unable to quell the hostility between her two sons, provided historian Flavius Josephus with the opportunity to take a swipe at all women:
“A woman she was who showed no signs of the weakness of her sex […] and demonstrated by her doings at once, that her mind was fit for action, and that sometimes men themselves show the little understanding they have by the frequent mistakes they make in point of government; for she always preferred the present to futurity, and preferred the power of an imperious dominion above all things, and in comparison of that had no regard to what was good, or what was right. However, she brought the affairs of her house to such an unfortunate condition, that she was the occasion of the taking away that authority from it, and that in no long time afterward, which she had obtained by a vast number of hazards and misfortunes, and this out of a desire of what does not belong to a woman, and all by a compliance in her sentiments with those that bare ill-will to their family, and by leaving the administration destitute of a proper support of great men; and, indeed, her management during her administration while she was alive, was such as filled the palace after her death with calamities and disturbance.”
But even he could not help but admit:
“However […] she preserved the nation in peace. And this is the conclusion of the affairs of, Alexandra.”
Salome Alexandra died at the age of 73, after ruling Judea for 9 years.
Season Four – Brothers at War
Hyrcanus the High Priest, also known as Hyrcanus II, who Josephus (and not only him), described as “weak minded”, didn’t want to fight his brother at first. His mother left Aristobulus’ wife and sons with Hyrcanus to serve as a bargaining chip in the fight for the throne, but he chose not to use them and arrived at an agreement with Aristobulus – he would continue to serve as High Priest and Aristobulus would be King.
A return to sanity, mutual respect between brothers and good old-fashioned family values? Well, not quite.
Over time, Hyrcanus began to develop close ties with a fellow named Antipater the Idumaean. Antipater’s son would become one of the era’s most famous historic figures, but we’ll get to him in a bit. Antipater succeeded in convincing Hyrcanus not to give up the throne, and with the help of the King of the Nabateans, they set out to fight Aristobulus in Jerusalem. The war that broke out between the two brothers was bitter and cruel and was accompanied by the looting of everything dear and holy to the earlier Hasmoneans – by both of the warring sides. Now they didn’t even need a wicked Antiochus to desecrate the Temple and kill priests and sages – they did it themselves.
While this was going on, the Roman general Pompey strolled into town, carrying orders to expand Rome’s territories in the East. Throughout the Hasmonean Kingdom’s history, the Romans had cast a long shadow from the West but had refrained from intervening in Judea’s internal affairs, as its rulers were wise enough to repeatedly sign peace treaties with it.
This was about to change. Both Hyrcanus and Aristobulus now expected Pompey to judge which of the two was more deserving of ruling Judea. They travelled to see him in Damascus, as did a delegation of the Judean people, who came to ask the Roman general take down the entire Hasmonean family – they’d had enough power struggles and corruption.
Was this simple naivete or just a clumsy attempt at political maneuvering?
Either way, Pompey’s response was one of the greatest historical demonstrations of the idiom: “When two are fighting, the third wins”. He quickly seized the opportunity to take over the Judean kingdom himself. He went up to Jerusalem, besieged it, and after just three months and 12,000 dead Jews, he entered the Holy of Holies in the Temple. Aristobulus II was imprisoned and Hyrcanus II was declared an “Ethnarch” a pathetic puppet ruler on behalf of Rome.
The year was 63 BCE. The Hasmonean Kingdom, the only example of Jewish sovereignty in the Land of Israel since the biblical kingdoms (and for the next 2,000 years), had lost its independence.
Season Five – The Last Hasmonean Queen
It was the end of the Hasmonean Kingdom, but not the end of the dynasty. Like the final season of a tired drama series full of violence and intrigue that refuses to end – the sons and daughters of the Hasmonean family stuck around, continuing to play inseparable roles in the government of the Roman client state.
Meantime, the effective ruler was Antipater – the man who incited Hyrcanus II to go to war for the throne in the first place. Antipater appointed his son, one Herod, as governor of the Galilee. Hyrcanus II and Herod were sworn enemies who didn’t miss an opportunity to humiliate or harm one another. This toxic relationship reached its peak with the poisoning of Antipater by Hyrcanus’ people. Antipater died and in order to “compensate” Herod, Hyrcanus gave him his granddaughter (also Aristobulus’ granddaughter due to marriage within the family) – Miriam the Hasmonean – as a wife.
Miriam, or Mariamne, was apparently a very impressive woman. Josephus described her thus:
“a woman of an excellent character, both for chastity and greatness of soul […] yet had she all that can be said in the beauty of her body, and her majestic appearance in conversation”
At the end of an exhaustingly long era of battles and intrigue, Herod became King of Judea under the Romans. Miriam his wife, who could be Queen herself by right due to her lineage, became the partner of one of the most notorious Jewish rulers in a court full of discord.
Herod is probably the most famous king of this era of Jewish history, but his rule, no matter how glamorous, was subordinate to the central government in Rome and is not considered part of the Hasmonean dynasty. To the contrary, he feared the legacy of the Hasmonean kings, and in order to reduce their influence and reputation, he even slashed Hyrcanus’ ears to make him unfit for the priesthood and executed most of what was left of the royal family, including the mother and brother of his wife Miriam.
His relationship with Miriam, his Hasmonean queen, was a roller coaster of almost mad passion interwoven with mutual accusations – she for his murder of her family, he for her disloyalty.
In the end, he sentenced her to death himself.
“…she went to her death with an unshaken firmness of mind […] and thereby evidently discovered the nobility of her descent to the spectators, even in the last moments of her life.”
Thus did Josephus describe the last moments of the last Hasmonean queen in his classic work, “Antiquities of the Jews”, just a few years after her family’s kingdom had lost its independence, and less than a hundred years before the complete destruction of Judea and the Temple itself.
Mariamne Leaving the Judgment Seat of Herod, by John William Waterhouse
The Hasmonean Kingdom was but a brief flash of Jewish independence in a torn and bloodied land dominated for millennia by empires, kingdoms, and other polities. A land the Jewish People never left and never ceased to dream of. It began with a great hope – the realization of the vision of five faithful brothers who worked together for decades and gave their lives to see it through. It was a kingdom full of Jewish pride which served as a testament to the power of the spirit and a shared fate. Yet it succumbed, soaked in blood, to its own failings and self-destructive acts. The story of the Hasmonean Kingdom offers a historical lesson on everything that can go wrong when a government is tainted with corruption and reliant solely on force.
Embracing the Light of Hanukkah
Jewish pride is exemplified annually in the tradition of lighting the hanukkiah candles, but the Hanukkah story itself is actually full of themes of concealment and hiddenness. So why is Hanukkah celebrated with this self-confident display of our Judaism and why is this practice so very important, especially in dark times like these, when Hanukkah will be celebrated amidst a backdrop of Jewish suffering and war.
The Shohat Family celebrating Hanukkah, 1977, Dan Hadani, the Dan Hadani Collection, the Pritzker Family National Photography Collection, the National Library of Israel
Donuts, dreidels, golden coins and gifts. Memories of Hanukkah are set on a backdrop of cozy winter nights, permeated by the smells of oily foods, laughter from silly games and lots of time spent with family. As presents are exchanged and songs are sung, Hanukkah holds a special warmth and innocence in many of our minds. But, when asked to sum up Hanukkah in just one image, almost all of us would recall the hanukkiah lights, set in front of foggy windows, as the bright candles burn for all to see.
Young girls lighting the hanukkiah after immigrating to Israel, 1948, Rudi Weissenstein, the Photohouse Collection, the National Library of Israel
A source of pride in Jewish culture is the concept of showing off our light in the midst of nightfall’s darkness. But while the theme of Hanukkah is usually perceived to be this pride and openness, when it comes to the Hanukkah story itself, it is hard to deny that concealment and hiddenness are also very apparent themes. There is a fascinating tension here between these two contrasting ideas. In this article we will explore how we have come to equate Hanukkah with a Jewish sense of pride and why is it such an important message to share, especially during times like these, in which it seems that many Jews will be celebrating Hanukkah amidst a backdrop of distress and war.
The Shohat Family celebrating Hanukkah, 1977, Dan Hadani, the Dan Hadani Collection, the Pritzker Family National Photography Collection, the National Library of Israel
The story of Hanukkah begins around 168 BCE, when the Seleucid ruler Antiochus IV Epiphanes began persecuting the Jews in his kingdom, which included the territory of Judea, and forced them to either renounce their Judaism or face certain death. Due to his horrific threats, this point in history marked the start of an era of hiddenness which descended upon the Jewish people. Many Jews living during this time made the difficult decision to outwardly adopt Greek religious practices and culture in public to avoid punishment, but continued to practice their Judaism in private – praying, studying, and practicing the Jewish laws as best they could.
Lighting the hanukkiah at Rambam Hospital, 1981, IPPA Staff Photographer, the Dan Hadani Collection, the Pritzker Family National Photography Collection, the National Library of Israel
This history is symbolized by a story that is often told about the origins of the dreidel – a spinning top traditionally played with on Hanukkah. During Antiochus’ reign, Jewish children were of course banned from learning any Torah. Not wanting the legacy of Jewish learning to die out, the tale recounts that their parents would hide the children away and teach them Torah in secret. As a backup measure, they set out dreidels in the hiding spots, too. If a Greek official were to walk past and happen to spy them, the children would immediately begin to play with their innocent spinning tops! Though the story is not based on historical fact, and originates in a much later tradition, today, Jewish children continue to play dreidel each Hanukkah to commemorate this dark period in history, when living openly as a Jew was not a possibility.
Lighting the hanukkiah, Central Archives for the History of the Jewish People, the National Library of Israel
At the same time, an even bigger concealment was taking place. The story of Hanukkah concludes with a great war between the Greek army and the Jewish army, led by members of the Hasmonean family, who later came to be known as the Maccabees. When we think of the Maccabees, we picture brave strong fighters, and this is not incorrect. However, before the final days of battle commenced in earnest, the Maccabees were in fact best described as a hidden group of insurgent guerilla fighters.
Lighting the hanukkiah for wounded IDF soldiers at Tel Hashomer Hospital, 1969, IPPA Staff Photographer, the Dan Hadani Collection, the Pritzker Family National Photography Collection, the National Library of Israel
Setting up their bases in the caves and hideouts of the Judean countryside under the leadership of Judah Maccabee in 166 BCE, the story is told of how these Jewish soldiers formed clandestine groups of fighters and dissidents who would set out on underground missions while their forces grew in size and skill. For much of the war, the Maccabees would wait just beyond eyesight, hiding in the wilderness and using the element of surprise to attack effectively. It was only with the conclusion of the Hanukkah story, as the great large-scale battles of the Greek-Jewish war broke out, that the Maccabees rose up to fight in the open.
Young boy lights a hanukkiah at the Ministry of Foreign Affairs, 1949, Benno Rothenberg, the Meitar Collection, the Pritzker Family National Photography Collection, the National Library of Israel
Hanukkah is also a festival of hidden miracles. The famous story of that one last jug of oil which lit the ritual menorah in the ruins of the Jewish temple was found after being hidden amongst the rubble, not presented in plain sight. Similarly, a hidden miracle occurred after it seemed that the Maccabees might not survive the war. Only one Maccabee named Simon survived past the Hanukkah story. Yet it was Simon who would go on to officially found the great Hasmonaean dynasty, the first instance of full Jewish sovereignty since the fall of the Kingdom of Judah more than 400 years earlier. This was something that few could have dreamed of at the time, which allowed the Jewish people to once again rise up in strength.
Hence, one might think that moving forward from the story of Hanukkah, this annual holiday would be celebrated with references to hiddenness, the way that we commemorate the hidden miracles of Purim or Shemini Atzeret. But this is not the moral of the Hanukkah story. The story of Hanukkah ends with a menorah, lit bright for all to see, standing unscathed amongst the wreckage of Jerusalem. This image conveys a clear message that despite being repeatedly knocked down, the Jewish people are not afraid of their identity. In fact, it reminds us that we will never again allow ourselves to be hidden away with shame. We are here. We are bright. We continue to burn. That is the message of Hanukkah.
Young boy lights a hanukkiah at the Western Wall, 1969, IPPA Staff Photographer, the Dan Hadani Collection, the Pritzker Family National Photography Collection, the National Library of Israel
And over the years, this is what we have seen from the Jewish people time and time again.
One of the most famous images associated with the Holocaust is of course the image of a hanukkiah, one of the most enduring symbols of Judaism, standing proud in the window of a house while across the street we see a Nazi flag draped on a building. This image is so famous because it shows exactly how far the Jewish people will go in order to protect their identity, and stand firm in the face of oppression.
But this is not the only hanukkiah that remains from the Holocaust. A hanukkiah was found, wrapped in newspapers dating back to 1941, hidden under the flooring of the synagogue building in Alphen aan den Rijn, Holland, which was used each year during Hanukkah until the deportation of the family to whom it belonged. Similarly, the French Moroccan Cohen family, fleeing persecution with not much more than a suitcase, chose to take their hanukkiah with them when they were forcibly evicted from Casablanca, so that they could continue to light the Hanukkah candles wherever they might end up. Another tale from within the ghetto walls of Lodz, Poland, recounts that the chairman of the Judenrat, Mordechai Chaim Rumkowski, was known for proudly lighting the hanukkiah each year despite the dangers of doing so, right up until the liquidation of the ghetto. Many Jewish families keep such Holocaust-era hanukkiot as heirlooms and stories continue to abound of Jews refusing to hide their light, despite their tormentors attempting to stamp it out.
The origin of the word “Hanukkah” is debated, but it is clear that it contains the Hebrew root חנכ which means “to dedicate”. As the Jews dedicated themselves to their identity through the story of Hanukkah, so too do we see that continued dedication right up until today. Israel is beautiful at Hanukkah time. Traditionally, many Israeli Jews light their hanukkiah in a box outside of their house, not on their windowsill, and walking the streets of Israel seeing families gathering to light their candles is a truly special experience. It is also continuous. Despite the many wars that have ravaged Israel since its conception, each year, whether during war or peace, these special candelabras can be seen glowing bright.
IDF unit lights hanukkiah made out of exploded rockets, 1970, IPPA Staff Photographer, the Dan Hadani Collection, the Pritzker Family National Photography Collection, the National Library of Israel
During times of global conflict, Jews typically come under even more frequent attack when proudly expressing their identity. When Ukrainian Jews, recently caught in conflict, lacked light to see, fuel to cook, and lived under constant curfew, hanukkiot were still seen shining proudly from homes and town squares throughout the country. When the public lighting of the hanukkiah in London was cancelled just a few days ago, British Jews banded together and pledged to hold their own candle lighting ceremony, unafraid of expressing who they are. And the examples can go on and on and on.
Ruling from the Chief Rabbinate of the IDF allowing soldiers to light candles with any available oil including gun oil, say the blessings over flashlights, and light candles in a private place, Ma’ariv, December 26, 1978, the National Library of Israel Historical Jewish Press Collection
In times of war, this sense of collective identity is even more important than ever, and perhaps that is why, despite the challenges that face Israel during moments of conflict such as these, each year the hanukkiot continue to shine bright from Jewish homes across the country.
IDF soldiers lighting the hanukkiah in the Negev Desert, 1949, Benno Rothenberg, the Meitar Collection, the Pritzker Family National Photography Collection, the National Library of Israel
Many wonder what will happen this year. While some of our brave soldiers will be allowed home to celebrate the holiday with their families and friends, many others will have to commemorate Hanukkah in the Gaza Strip, or on army bases around the country. But fear not, the light cannot be dimmed, no matter how burdened or tormented our people become. Many individuals have already began collecting donations to deliver candles and Hanukkah treats to our IDF soldiers, and there are organizations who have pledged to deliver Hanukkiot to each and every army base, so that no Jew will be left out, and all the soldiers will get to light their candles and help put an end to our darkness.
Chabad delivering donuts to IDF soldiers, 1985, Yossi Aloni, the Dan Hadani Collection, the Pritzker Family National Photography Collection, the National Library of Israel
As Jewish history continues through the good times and the bad, this year once again we will witness the heart-wrenching sight of hanukkiot shining bright from the battlefields of Israel. While this image is not an easy one to process, it’s a reminder that our nation and our pride can never be wiped out. The haftarah reading which is recited on the Shabbat of Hanukkah comes from Zechariah 4:6 and proclaims that the Jews will succeed “not by might, not by power, but by spirit”. No matter where we are spending Hanukkah this year, remember that ultimately it is our spirit which will keep us strong, and our Hanukkah lights will remind us never to dim our shine for anyone.