1 Maccabees 1, Hebrews 11:34-35, 1 Cor 10:11, Daniel 9:27 and 11:31.
In our survey of the Readable Books, we have considered stories such as Susanna and Judith, poetry such as the Song of the Three, visions such as Mordecai’s dream of the dragons, sayings of wisdom such as those found in Wisdom of Solomon and Sirach, and prophecy like that in Baruch. We now turn to a more historical group of books, named for the Maccabean freedom-fighters, whose very name meant “hammer” in ancient Aramaic. These books, nestled along with other OT books that give us chronicles of past events, from the time of the Judges up to (with the Maccabees) the rise of the Romans, remind us that God cares about our space-time world. After all, in the creed, we continually remember that Jesus was crucified “under Pontius Pilate”—a rather bizarre detail in a theological recitation that we might expect would be simply about spiritual matters. No, God Incarnate came among us “at just the right time” and “in the fullness of time,” and the presence of historical memoires in our Old and New Testaments reminds us that God cares about the material and temporal dimensions of our existence. The Bible is not a compilation of mythological stories unattached to our space-time reality, nor is it a compilation of abstract timeless truths—many of its books take note of chronology, with its first, Genesis, probing back before the time of recorded history, and its last, Revelation, directing our gaze both to the time after this current age, and to the celestial world above. Between these two bookends we find books written in various different genres, some of them directly connected with what we refer to as historical matters.
We do not, of course, expect ancient narratives of historical events and persons to follow the same conventions as those pursued by contemporary historians. Readers of ancient chronicles had no expectation of neutrality in their day: “histories,” like other writings, had the dual purpose of entertainment and edification, and never purported to only “give the facts.” (We could remark that even in our own day “historical” narratives are not just a list of uninterpreted facts; rather, the details are selected, shaped, delivered, and explained by historians to suit the various purposes of the authors and the expectations of today’s readers. However, the theological, political, or ideological purposes of historians are, in the main, more subtly expressed in our day than in the ancient past. Moreover, there is the perception that contemporary written histories simply tells “the facts,” when they, too, are massaged by presuppositions, ideology, and political purposes. ) 1 Maccabees, written in the late second or early first century BC, makes no pretense to be neutral. It is clearly written, as are the books of Judges, Kingdoms, Chronicles, Ezra, and Nehemiah, to foster faith in the true God, while also preserving the dire events through which God’s people had to live, while surrounded or occupied by hostile forces1 Maccabees is written quite a bit later than these other books, coming us through the Greek version in the LXX; yet it was almost certainly written originally in Hebrew, which both Jerome in the West, and Origen and the East claim to have seen.
From the get-go, we are plunged into the dizzying world of the past, reminded of the prowess of Alexander the Great, who in the fourth century established the Greek empire as a super-power over the civilized world, sweeping away the influence the Medo-Persian Empire, just as that power had earlier displaced the Babylonians. At the time of his death, the book tells us, Alexander divided the Greek Empire into four parts, so that his trusted leaders and then their sons and grandsons took power, causing evil to ”multiply on the earth.” The story of the Maccabees did not need to start in the fourth century BC, for it really concerns the second century, and the revolt against the Seleucid rulers, the remnant of Greek rule in Judea. Clearly, though, we are meant to understand that this critical time for Judea was a key part in the overall flow of history, so that Alexander’s frightening and effective wars eventually gave way to the petty tyranny of the monstrous Antiochus Epiphanes IV, who is introduced to us as “a sinful root.” We also get a glimpse into the future of the Jewish people, since Antiochus Epiphanes IV is introduced also as one who had been “a hostage in Rome” –later, the Maccabean freedom fighters will make an alliance with Rome, the up-and-coming nation, as they free themselves from the control of the Seleucids (the rulers of one-fourth of Alexander’s original kingdom, including Antiochus Epiphanes.)
Antiochus may not have had the genius of Alexander the great conqueror, but his meanness and ambition were nothing to mock. Many in Judea knew this, and counseled the occupied Judeans, especially those in Jerusalem, to be peaceable with the ruler, and please him by taking on Greek ways. So we read:
In those days, lawless men came forth from the sons of Israel, and they persuaded many, saying, “ Let us make a covenant with the Gentiles surrounding us, for ever since we have been stand-offish with them, many evils have come upon us.” This proposal found favor… and some of the people eagerly desired to enter into this agreement. So they went to the king [that is, Antiochus Epiphanes], and he gave them authority to observe the ordinances of the Gentiles. Then they built a gymnasium of the Gentiles, and made themselves as though uncircumcised. So they fell away from the holy covenant, yoked themselves to the Gentiles, and sold themselves to do evil. 1 Macc 1:11-15).
In harmony with many of the other books that we have been studying, we see that the danger to the Jewish people came not only from outside, from the oppressing rulers, but also from “lawless men” within Israel, who strategized faithlessly with the hope of improving their lot in life. We may think that what they counselled was only an “outer” strategy, and that Judeans could remain faithful to God in the heart while living like Gentiles in the social sphere. That would be bad enough, of course, for such a double life is spiritually dangerous. However, the seriousness of their approach is seen in the introduction of a gymnasium in Jerusalem, and the adoption of “Gentile ordinances.” The text is a little delicate when it speaks about the Jewish men making themselves “as though uncircumcised,” but this is a way of saying that they underwent a painful operation in a day of no anaesthesia or antibiotics in order to manufacture foreskins and disguise their circumcision, so that the Jewish difference would not be seen in the gymnasium, where games were performed in the nude. Moreover, the games were riddled with idolatry, beginning and ending with sacrifices to pagan gods and godesses, and full of all the paraphernalia of idolatry, such as the cap of the fleet-footed god, Hermes.
Meanwhile, Antiochus has other fish to fry, and marches to Egypt—not part of the original territory that the Seleucids had been given by Alexander, so that he would now have “two kingdoms” –Egypt, and well as the land located in Babylon and the holy land. Emboldened by his success, Antiochus seemingly forgets his covenant with the worldly Judean leaders, and marches into Jerusalem, stealing all the riches of the Temple, and causing great lament in Israel for “all the house of Jacob was clothed with shame.” But he is not done, yet. Two years later, he arrives in Jerusalem with a huge army, speaks deceitfully to them in seeming peace, and then ravages the city—killing, raping, and stealing. Around Jerusalem he builds a huge wall, making it a center of military operations. The great city, personified as a woman in mourning, is now “a dwelling place of strangers,” and her faithful “children forsook her,” so that “her sanctuary was laid waste like a desert.”
Now in a position of strength, Antiochus unfolds the details of his plan—an ancient form of rule and ecumenicism, in which Greek customs and beliefs were to be followed by all the conquered peoples, so that the Jewish ways had to be forsaken, on pain of punishment. Many gave in, worshipping idols and profaning the Sabbath, but some resisted, refusing to worship in the pagan manner around the country in every city, continuing to keep kosher, continuing to circumcise their sons, and finding places of refuge in which to hide. Those Jews who collaborated with the Greeks informed on those who were faithful, and the bloodshed was unthinkable. As a climax to all this barbaric oppression, Antiochus finally sets up an idol of some sort in the center of the Jerusalem Temple, called the Abomination of Desolation by our author (and also by the prophet Daniel)—either a statue of Zeus, the high Greek God, or perhaps of one of the Emperors (who were considered to be divine in some way), and he even sacrificed pig’s flesh in the holy of holies. Coupled with this, he burned copies of the Torah, executed any who owned such scrolls, and seized women who had circumcised their babies, slinging the babies around the mother’s necks, and throwing them down off the temple walls. Despite all this disaster, and the capitulation of many Jews who were trying to escape persecution, our author tells us this: Yet many in Israel grew strong, and determined in themselves not to eat unclean things. They chose rather to die than to …profane the holy covenant. And so they died, and great wrath came upon Israel.
This is not a pretty story. When we immerse ourselves in the events, we come to understand how it must have felt to be a faithful Jew, looking back on centuries of domination by other nations—Assyria, Babylon, Medo-Persia, and Greece. Now, as the Greek empire looks to be crumbling, those in power are clutching to whatever strength they still have, and doubling down on oppression and so-called “empire-unity.” But the efforts of Antiochus to shore up his kingdom means death for those who worship only the true God, and follow his ways. In that climate, danger came not only from the oppressive outsider, but also from the collaborators within your own people. Nor was the problem local, confined only to Jerusalem and the environs. The Jewish historian Josephus tells us that even the Samaritan half-Jews to the north collaborated with Antiochus, and set up a temple to Zeus on their sacred Mount Gerazim. Rumors of persecution, killing, and informing were everywhere! Probably our closest analogy is what happened to many during the time of the Nazi regime. Into this precarious situation will come a man called “Judas Maccabeus”—that is, Judas the One who Strikes like a Hammer. He and his brothers, along with their father the priest Mattathias, have left the stricken Jerusalem for a little town to the northwest, but they will hear of all the evils in Jerusalem, and soon persecution will come their way, too. Their faithfulness and courage will become a model for all the people, catalyzing a national uprising against this tyrant! The rest of the book will tell of the courage and ascendency of this family from Mattathias, especially of his sons Simon the wise, and Judas the Hammer, and how, against all odds, they will bring restoration to the people not only in Judea but elsewhere. We must prepare ourselves for an “adult rated” story of bloodshed and political intrigue, but also for an unexpected time of independence, won for the Jewish people during an era of world empires. A breathing space is given to the people, as Greece recedes in importance and Rome increases.
Perhaps this all seems too secular to be taken seriously as Scripture. Yet the book has been retained both in the East and the West, because it shows us how God works even in unpromising times, and through imperfect men. We will see that the events recorded here are punctuated by wonderful bits of poetry, perhaps even early hymns, that show us the moral, spiritual, and theological significance of the events and the men engaged in them—Mattathias, who “gathered those who were perishing”(3:9); Judas, whose “brave deeds…are not recorded, for they are too many” (8:22); Simon, who “sought the good of his nation….and beautified the sanctuary” (14:4, 15); and Simon’s son John, who played a major role in “war history,” by committing “brave acts” while also rebuilding the walls of Jerusalem, and taking on the role of high priest after Simon. What came to be known as the Hasmonean family was not beloved by all the Jewish people, as we will see in future episodes. However, all that they did, along with those who resisted the Seleucids along with them, is memorialized in the book of Hebrews. There we hear about those who “out of weakness were made strong, became valiant in battle, turned to fight the armies of the aliens,” so that “women received their dead raised to life again,” but “others were tortured, not accepting deliverance, that they might obtain a better resurrection” (Hebrews 11:34-35). It would seem, then, that in our rather coddled age we can learn about fortitude and faithfulness from them. Their stories, with their many intricacies, are related in this lengthy book, which we will continue to read in the next episode. One philosopher reminds us that those who cannot remember the past are condemned to repeat it; St. Paul also says that the stories of the OT are “written for our admonition” (1 Cor 10:11). Both negatively and positively, this book has much to teach us!
Edith M. Humphrey 