3 Maccabees, Exodus 15, Daniel 3, Daniel 6, Jonah 2
3 Maccabees is a book included in Orthodox Bibles because of its presence in the Septuagint, and its acceptance in various authoritative documents, such as Apostolic Canon 85 (probably fourth century) and the decisions of Council of Truro (late seventh century). It is, despite its entertaining narrative, not well known. Moreover, it does not really have anything to do with the Maccabees, but as Fr. Stephen de Young puts it, “is the odd man out among the books of the Maccabees.” Its story is set about half a century before the Maccabean revolt, though it was likely written later than both first and second Maccabees: interestingly, the details of the story are similar to 2 Maccabees, but with different actors. One ancient reference to the book calls it Ptolemaica (“things pertaining to Ptolemy”), which seems more appropriate than the traditional title, given the time-frame of the story—not during the conflict between Antiochus Epiphanes IV and the Maccabees, but that of the Egyptian King Ptolemy and the Jews in Egypt. As always, I urge my listeners or readers to actually read the seven chapters of this book, so that you have not only a sense of the story, but of the tone and style.
The story hinges upon the well-known bloodthirstiness of Ptolemy IV (Philopator), who was victorious over the Seleucid king Antiochus III in 217 BC, and made a tour of the nations that he had won, including Judea. Much of this introductory information is verified in other historical sources. The details found in the rest of the story, however, are questioned by many, so that some insist that the real value of 3 Maccabees must be theological and sermonic, rather than historical. According to the narrative, when Ptolemy visits the conquered Jerusalem as part of his victory tour, he claims that as the new king he should have access to the innermost part of the Temple, even though only the Jewish high priest entered the Holy of holies once a year (1:1-11). His presumption precipitates a mass protest, beginning with the priests, but joined by the people in general, including even nursing and pregnant mothers, who engage in the ancient equivalent of a sit-down occupation. In desperation, when it looks as though Ptolemy will not yield, the high-priest Simon prays an agonized petition of praise and faith, and the LORD strikes down Ptolemy with a paralysis. (2:21-22).
The king is hastily removed by his attendants, but is livid. Returning to his home land of Egypt, he instigates a kind of pogrom against the Jews there, making allowances for those who will apostasize and join in an eclectic religion centered around Dionysius. However, most of the Egyptian Jews who are living there in exile from the Holy Land remain faithful to the LORD (2:31-32), and further enrage the king. All the Jews are now to be rounded up and carted to Alexandria (ch. 3), even though many of the Gentile inhabitants are outraged by Ptolemy’s cruelty. The king puts forth an edict indicting the Jews and any who might conceal them, because, he says, the Jews have an “innate malice” (3:22). He even woos the Gentiles who have hitherto had good relations with the Egyptian Jews by providing a great feast for them, to stir them up against God’s people. Thus begins the initial violence against Jews, even against older people, new brides, and young: they are rounded up, shackled hand and foot in ships, and taken like slaves to Alexandria. The registration itself is a huge undertaking because of the number of Jews in the land, and takes over 40 days. In fact, the scribes who are registering the names seem mysteriously to run out of enough pens and paper—God’s providence is understood to be thwarting their efforts (4:21).
Those who are captured are held in the hippodrome (horse-racing arena) outside the city, and Ptolemy devises an evil plan to have them all trampled by 500 drunken elephants. This time all the captives pray, and God answers by having the king fall into a deep sleep. When Ptolemy awakens, he resumes his scheme, planning for a bloody dawn. Yet again, the condemned Jews pray, and God intervenes, striking the king with forgetfulness about what he had planned to do. Inexplicably, he now threatens death to the Gentiles whom he had directed to arrange the spectacle with the elephants. He goes back to his banquet.
This begins to sound like a farce: at the banquet, he reverses himself yet again, calls in the elephant keeper, and asks why it is taking so long to kill the Jews. The poor keeper and those under him who had been arranging the massacre chastise the king for “teasing them,” and say that the whole city is in an uproar because Ptolemy keeps changing his mind. Finally, the keeper gets a firm answer from the king, ensures once again that the elephants are appropriately inebriated, and leads them to the hippodrome to set them lose on the Jewish captives (5:45). The comedy of the situation with the dilly-dallying of the king now is transformed into real pathos, as the story describes the terror of the captives, and their last minute embraces and tears as they see the elephants approach (5:48-51). “At the very gates of Hades,” they cry out again to the LORD. On their behalf, Eleazar the priest utters a poignant prayer of hope, recalling for the people and for God the rescue at the Red Sea, the three who were saved in the fiery furnace when God made it moist like dew, and Daniel’s friendship with the lions. He acts as a spokesman for “this entire multitude of babes and their parents” (6:14), and prays that God will again reveal Himself as the protector of Israel to the Gentiles. (We should note that some of the details of his prayer closely echo the extended book of Daniel, such as the “dewy cool” of the furnace.) Though the book is not mentioned by many Church fathers (except for the historian Theodore, bishop of Cyrus), it is embedded in the tradition by reference to great events in Israel’s past which the Church connects, in her worship, especially to Pascha.
Eleazar’s prayer is answered by two glorious angels, visible to the Gentiles but not to the Jewish people, who fill the enemy with terror, and turn the elephants against the armed men who are directing them. Immediately the enraged king becomes compassionate, and he “set[s] free the sons of the Almighty, heavenly, living God,” making a special banquet for them (6:22-30). This miraculous event leads to a commemorative annual festival, just as the Maccabean victory issued in the celebration of Hannukah (6:31-41). Now the faithful Jews are directed by the king to search out and punish those Jews who were unfaithful and turned to idolatry. The story ends with a reversal for God’s people, who now are specially protected by Ptolemy, all because “Almighty God had done perfectly magnificent works to gain their deliverance.” In the final verse, a blessing is offered for “the Savior of Israel unto ages of ages” (7:23).
In this story, we see elements similar to the ups and downs of the Maccabees, the peril and victory of Esther, and the miraculous interventions of the book of Daniel. The Gentile king, though disposed in the beginning against the Jewish people, is reconciled to them like Nebuchudnezzar, and makes a special place for Jewish people in his kingdom. God’s power is shown not to be confined to the Temple in Jerusalem—this offers encouragement to a later generation of exiles, for whom the Temple was no longer be accessible. The prayers of both priests, Simon and Eleazar, along with the petitions of the whole congregation, are heeded by the LORD of all, who acts both through natural means (like the slumber of Ptolemy) and outright miracles (such as the two angels who rout the elephants). The relations between Jews and Gentiles is not sketched as a mere caricature, but shown in some complexity: there are renegade Jews who turn against God in order to obtain status and safety, and kindly Gentiles who risk their lives to save the faithful. Here as in other OT books, there is sometimes a stress upon justice over mercy, as with the final punishment of 300 renegades at the dénouement of the story—though this penalty is not narrated with the detail and flourish given to other parts of the book.
Of special interest are the two priestly prayers. Simon’s is first (2:1-20). In it, God is named LORD, Master of all creation, Holy One among the holy oes, the only Ruler, Almighty, Creator of all, Ruler over all, righteous Master, and holy King. To this the narrator adds another startling title: the God who watches over all, our Holy Forefather among the holy ones. This last title for God paves the way for Jesus’ special name for God as “Abba,” Father. Simon’s prayer shows God as the Judge of all, who brought the flood, who destroyed Sodom, who drowned the Egyptians, but also speaks of the God who chose Jerusalem, though He has no need for an earthly dwelling, who gave promises, and who is ready to forgive sin. The priest’s final words are not of vengeance, but rather hope: “Grant praise in the mouth of those who have fallen and are crushed in our souls, and bring us peace.” This theme of peace in a violent story is striking, and indicates to us how we should approach God.
Eleazar’s prayer in chapter six is even more dramatic. We hear God named O King, O Most High, the Almighty God, O Master, O Hater of Insolence, O Merciful Defender of All, O Eternal One, O Honorable One, and O LORD. His themes range from Abraham’s seed, to Jacob’s promises, to Pharoah’s destruction in the Red Sea (Exodus 15) to the defeat of Sennacherib and the Assyrians, to the three youths in the furnace (Daniel 3), to Daniel in the lion’s den (Dan 6), and to Jonah 2, when the prophet prays from the belly of the great fish. As with other prayers for deliverance, Eleazar calls upon God to uphold His honor, and not let the pagans think “their God could not rescue them” (6:11). God’s “unconquerable power” and His love for “the race of Jacob” are the main burden, as seen in the simple closing to the petitions: “Do this for us, O LORD.”
His prayer, along with that of Simon, recall for Orthodox the great hymn, “God is with us, understand all you peoples!” What is particularly striking is that though these two priests are eloquent spokesmen for God’s people, they do not supplant the prayers of those gathered, who pray fervently as well, and are blessed by God’s answer. One comment from the narrator gives the concise summary of how this story should encourage us: “When the Jews heard what [had happened], they praised God as the revealed LORD and King of kings, since this happened to them because of His help” (5:35).
As Christians, of course, we express our celebration of God’s justice in a different way from the ancient Jews, not hunting down our enemies to punish and destroy them, but praying for their turn from evil and ignorance. God’s sovereign power and justice remain constant into the New Covenant, but we understand and display these through the paradox of the cross, upon which our King was enthroned. Despite the differences, this story remains pertinent today in that it reminds us of the ongoing violence that God’s scattered people “after the flesh,” the Jewish people, have experienced from very early days up unto our own time, no matter where they live. It issues an encouragement for us both to stand against such violence and oppression, and to witness lovingly to the full knowledge of the God who has acted decisively, for both Jew and Gentile, as St. Paul puts it in the book of Romans. He is the One indwelling our world by the Spirit, and who entered this violent world in the body of the Son through the Theotokos—deeper visitations than the Jewish people experienced in His holy presence at the Jerusalem Temple. It is in Jesus alone that the “Almighty God has done perfectly magnificent works” for the deliverance of all, whether Jew or Gentile. 3 Maccabees, with its anchor in history, and its novelesque drama, reminds us of the important place of the Jewish people in salvation history, of their historic and present-day suffering, and of the fuller knowledge of God’s truth that we see in the God-Man born of Mary.
Edith M. Humphrey 