Latkes, jelly doughnuts, and chocolate coins filled the White House last week for the president’s annual Hanukkah Party. But this Hanukkah was different from all previous Hanukkahs.
“We gather to celebrate the story that is told in Jewish homes across the country and all over the world,” President Trump told a kippa-clad room a day after recognizing Jerusalem as Israel’s capital.
“A story that began more than 2,000 years ago with a tyrant — made practicing the Jewish faith punishable by death. … But a small band of Jewish patriots rose up, defeated a mighty army, and soon reclaimed their freedom.”
As the patriots rededicated the Jerusalem temple, “they found only enough oil to light the lamp for a single night. Soon, all were stunned to find that for eight days, the lamp continued to burn brightly.” Mr. Trump called this miracle: “a symbol of the faith and resilience of the Jewish people. You do have faith and you do have resilience.”
“The miracle of Hanukkah is the miracle of Israel,” Trump continued. “The descendants of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob have endured unthinkable persecution and oppression. But no force has ever crushed your spirit, and no evil has ever extinguished your faith.”
“And right now I’m thinking about what’s going on and the love that’s all over Israel and all about Jerusalem,” Trump went on. And as if straight from a tweet he ended with: “Big day, big event, very important.”
This is a Trumpian retelling of the Hanukkah story in form and content–it oozes of nationalism and particularism. Hanukkah is about the Jewish people and only the Jewish people. The president spoke not in the first-person plural but instead separated himself from his guests by repeating “Jewish” and “your.” The miracle and message of Hanukkah is not a general one—it is about the greatness of a particular people.
Barack Obama himself delivered seven speeches during his presidential Hanukkah parties. When comparing Trump’s remarks to those of Obama, one wonders if they are referring to the same holiday.
Obama did not even mention the word “Jewish” in his shpiels. Instead, the story is described as timeless, universal and is relayed in the first person— “a story so powerful” Obama said in 2011, “that we all know it by heart—even us Gentiles.”
Obama’s Hanukkah is a story of anti-colonialism and the triumph of the oppressed: “It’s a story of ancient Israel suffering under the yoke of empire” he told partygoers in 2010. While Trump’s Maccabees are a “small band of Jewish patriots,” Obama’s are referred to as “a small band of believers” who “rose up to defeat their far more powerful oppressors.” For Obama, it’s common belief that’s ties the Jews together, not peoplehood or nationalism.
Highlighting Hanukkah as a universal idea, he said: “It’s a story of right over might, of faith over doubt” which “continues to inspire those all over the world who stand for freedom and opportunity.”
In 2015 Obama relayed the story of a Holocaust survivor who raised money for refugees in Darfur as an example of how “none of us should turn our backs on a stranger. … That’s our challenge during this Hanukkah season. Whether it’s standing up for the dignity of refugees, standing up against anti-Semitism — or any kind of bigotry or discrimination levelled at any religion … may our common humanity shine throughout the world.”
In the tale of two Hanukkahs who’s right? Is Trump making Hanukkah great again or is this a case of alternative facts? Is Hanukkah really a story of freedom as American as apple pie or as distinctly Jewish as a fried potato latke?
Externally, Hanukkah indeed celebrates religious liberty—the Maccabees fought the tyrant Antiochus IV, who in the second century B.C. outlawed Torah observance. Internally, however, the story is about religious fundamentalism: It symbolizes the victory of firm Jewish identity over assimilation, and of tradition over progress. Inside the Jewish community, the Maccabees didn’t care for individual religious freedom.
The Maccabees rose up against their Greek colonizers, but also their fellow Jews who were assimilating into Hellenistic culture. In fact, the revolt began in 165 B.C. when the priest Mattathias first killed a fellow Jew who was about to perform a pagan sacrifice. The Maccabees forcibly circumcised uncircumcised Jews.
The Maccabees heroically preserved Judaism against encroaching Hellenism, but through quite unsavory means. Hanukkah therefore honestly highlights how messy politics and history are—and this is indeed the true paradox and unique beauty of the holiday.
The festival of light thus reflects both Obamaism and Trumpism. Perhaps the ultimate message lies in-between: particularism without universalism is fanaticism, and universalism without particularism is apolitical and unrealistic.
Eliora Katz is a writer based in New York.
