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Running on Jewish Time

Sunday, December 25, 2005

It Starts In Despair.

The story starts with despair.

The kings are gone. Their crown taken by invaders. Their heirs refuse to reclaim it.
The prophets are silent. The devine inspiritation lost. Their children do not learn their words.
The learned men teach to empty rooms. The words echo. Their students have left for universities.

The holy place defiled, the convenant banned, the new moon forgotten.... and in the dark arid,rocky hills, a few men sit.
"Let's fight."
"Ha.There are tens of thousands of them. We'll all get killed."
"If this is the future, what are we living for?"
"It's not your life to throw away."
"Life without Torah isn't life."

The Chashmonayim never intended to win. It was a suicide mission. But what other choice was there?

To hide and watch the Torah be forgotten among its own people, and watch as their own numbers are slowly decimated, until the Greeks finally killed the last of them.

So they fought.............and they won. So they fought again... and won again.
and fought, desperate, bloody, sucidal battles because against the greatest empires in the region what other kind are there?

and then they really won. Amid the ruins of their own holy place, of the building in which they all as children, remembered full of sacrefices and songs, prayer and purity.

They searched for a light, a little bit of oil, that had remained free of these invaders, pure from their touch. Even if it was still permissable according to the written law.

This war was not about the written law. This war was about the law that lived in the people, that rung in their voices, when the singer and the song, the poet and the poem, the man and the mefaresh were one and the same. The one that they would die rather than let languish and slowly extinguish.

they found one in a dark corner, and made a great light.

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