Shabbat Shalom, everyone.

The story of Hanukkah—what a story! It’s an amazing, dramatic tale. More than 2,000 years ago, our ancestors found themselves under the rule of the Seleucid Dynasty. These rulers tried to force our people to assimilate, to adopt Hellenistic culture. But the Jews fought back. They resisted assimilation, defeated the Greeks—the mightiest empire in the world—and rededicated the Temple. They lit the menorah.

It’s a great story if it ends there.

If we stop right there, it’s perfect—a beautiful story with all the makings of a classic: a common enemy, a triumphant fight, and a happy ending. But the story doesn’t end there. The story continues.

After the Hasmoneans take over the Temple, there’s a brief moment of celebration. But, as Jews are wont to do, we start fighting with one another—immediately.

The Hasmonean kingship lasts about 100 years, and those years are filled with violence, hatred, corruption, and infighting. The Hasmoneans take over the Temple, claiming they’re restoring the priestly service. The Pharisees respond, “Great! Which one of you is a Kohen Gadol?” And the Hasmoneans essentially say, “Don’t worry about it. Don’t look too closely.”

But, of course, people do look closely—and they aren’t happy. Suddenly, there are kohanim jockeying for the position of Kohen Gadol, many with questionable claims to lineage. The Pharisees aren’t pleased. What begins as theological and philosophical disputes quickly escalates into violence.

We don’t talk about this part of the story—years of civil war between the Sadducees and the Pharisees, fighting and killing one another. But we need to tell that part of the story, because it’s important.

The classic story of Hanukkah—the one we all know—follows the familiar pattern: “They tried to kill us, we survived, let’s eat.” We have plenty of stories like that. There’s Purim, Pesach, and others. Hanukkah offers us an opportunity to learn a different lesson.

Hanukkah teaches us: “They tried to kill us, we survived, and then we tried to kill each other.”

It’s a hard message, but a necessary one. And yet, here we are, still lighting our Hanukkiot. Something changed. Somehow, despite the infighting, we came through it. We’re still here, celebrating Hanukkah, telling this story—albeit an incomplete version.

This is why we need to tell the second half of the story. The only way we get to today, to right now, is by understanding the hard parts of our history.

Here’s what happened: After 100 years of civil war, both the Hasmoneans and the Pharisees sought allies in Greece—the very empire we had fought against in the first place. That alliance eventually led to the Roman conquest and, ultimately, the destruction of the Second Temple.

Our rabbis asked, “Why was the First Temple destroyed?” The answer: avodah zarah—idol worship. “Why was the Second Temple destroyed?” The answer: sinat chinam—baseless hatred, Jew against Jew.

But here’s the takeaway: The destruction of the Second Temple became the biggest theological turning point in Judaism. The rabbis faced a choice: Either this was the end of Judaism, or they could come together to figure out a way forward.

They chose the latter.

Sadducees, Pharisees, mystics, legal theorists, judges—they all united to create a path for Judaism’s survival. And while we don’t always fully learn from that example, it’s a reminder that unity is the only way forward. It’s easier, especially in tough times, to blame each other. But Hanukkah challenges us to rise above that and work together to shine our collective light.

The true miracle of Hanukkah isn’t the Hasmonean dynasty or the military victory over the Greeks. The miracle is that, despite internal strife, we overcame our divisions and found a way to come together.

Saul shared a beautiful teaching this morning: According to the Talmud, the mitzvah of Hanukkah is fulfilled by lighting just one candle each night. Whether it’s the first night or the eighth, one candle is enough. But the Talmud also describes the mehadrin min ha’mehadrin—those who go above and beyond. They light a menorah for each family member, increasing the number of candles each night.

Today, Jews around the world—Conservative, Orthodox, Reform, secular, cultural—all light their Hanukkiot in the same way: one candle on the first night, two on the second, three on the third, and so on.

That’s the story of Hanukkah: leaving our labels and divisions at the door, coming together to celebrate, and remembering that our strength lies in unity.

That’s us.

Shabbat Shalom.