The nature of the second bracha recited upon lighting the Chanukah candles is explored in this article. The author posits that the focus of the second benediction moves beyond the miracle of the pot of oil and is, rather, a general blessing of thanksgiving for the military victory of the Maccabees. He suggests that this second blessing 'speaks' to those who have more difficulty coming to terms with the idea of a personal God who performs miracles for individuals and, by focusing on the second blessing as a more comprehensive thanksgiving for the miracle of Jewish defence and survival, allows them to connect more readily to the miracles of Chanukah.

The religious principle of pirsumei-nisa, 'publicising the miracle', lies at the heart of the Chanukah observance, overshadowing all other aspects of its celebration, and constituting the guiding principle of most of its laws and customs.

Even the special culinary delicacies - the pancakes and doughnuts - all serve to reinforce and publicise the miracle of the sole surviving little pot of oil, found by the Maccabees in the devastated Temple, whose contents were sufficient for one day, but which lasted for eight.

The section from the Torah (Numbers 7) prescribed to be read each morning of Chanukah was chosen because of its relevance as describing another Chanukah, namely the chanuakat hamizbe'ach, the 'dedication ceremony of the Altar' in the desert Sanctuary.

The section commences by telling us that, 'On the day that Moses made an end of setting up the Sanctuary he anointed it and sanctified it' (7:1). Thus, the association of both 'Chanukahs' is reinforced by the common denominator of olive oil, which served as tile elixir of consecration in Moses' period and of a miraculous portent of divine favour in the period of the Maccabees.

But, in fact, those two respective acts of dedication - of both desert sanctuary and Maccabean Temple - are bound by stronger bonds of identification than is commonly highlighted. For the Talmudic description of the properties of that oil of consecration, used by Moses in the Sanctuary, creates a veritable prefiguration of the identical miracle that attended the events of the festival of Chanukah.

Said Rabbi Judah to him (R. Josi): Was there only one miracle associated with the anointing oil? Surely its volume seas originally only twelve logs, yet with it was anointed the Sanctuary structure, as well as Aaron and his sons each day of the seven days of consecration, and all of it remained intact for use in the hereafter.[1]

For those who are more comfortable with biblical rather than midrashic traditions, there is another well-known biblical precursor of that Chanukah miracle, whereby a circumscribed volume of oil is miraculously augmented to fulfil the needs of the pious. We refer to the story of the poor widow who, beset with creditors, petitioned the prophet Elisha for help (2 Kings 4). On learning that her sole possession was a pot of oil, Elisha told her to borrow as many empty containers as possible from all her neighbours. He then instructed her to pour out from her surviving little jar, and, miraculously the jar just kept on pouring, until all the containers in her home were full. Elisha then told her to sell the oil, pay off her debts, and live comfortably on the remainder of the proceeds.

David Ben-Gurion's profound observation on the State of Israel's early birth-pangs and struggle for existence was that, Whoever does not believe in miracles is quite irrational'. The element of the miraculous certainly figures prominently in Talmudic literature, which not only embellishes many biblical accounts with miraculous dimensions and records numerous 'Tales of the Unexpected', but even invests many sages with the power to perform private miracles.

It was also axiomatic for the sages that 'The world could not exist were it not for the daily miracles of which we remain blissfully ignorant'.[2]

A man is lying in bed, and, unknown to him, a snake lies ill wait on the ground at the side of his bed. As the man gets up, and is on the point of putting his foot on the ground, the snake is directed to scuttle away. But the man remains eternally ignorant of the great miracle that God has wrought (or him.[3]

This is alluded to in the Modim blessing of tile Amidah, where in we thank God for 'Thy miracles which are daily with us, and for Thy wonders and Thy benefits, which are wrought at all times, evening, morning and noon'.

One has to be endowed with great faith to accept and to sense the 'miracles that are daily with us'.

There are, in truth, several levels of faith. For some, God is an all-pervasive reality, which conditions their every action. Every benefit that comes their may is seen as a direct payment into their predestined spiritual bank account, to be acknowledged by a 'Thank God!' or 'Baruch Hashem'.

Others are not so religiously sensitive, but do sense. perhaps rather imprecisely and more as a gut feeling, that a Higher Being does exist. Believing themselves more sophisticated, they may find it difficult to equate the First Cause with Judaism's Personal God. Or, put rather more simply and prosaically, they may have difficulty reconciling the Creator of the Universe with a Being who would also be concerned with (or interested in) the success or otherwise of Chaim Yankel's most recent business venture.

But there is also a third category: Those who cannot affirm any concept - such as deity - that is beyond their comprehension, and cannot bring themselves, therefore, to embrace any formal expression of devotion or worship. Many in this category nevertheless have a commitment to the idea of the election of Israel. God - if He exists - remains hidden and mysterious. He is not a personal reality in their lives. And yet, in some totally illogical way (and they be the first to acknowledge it as such), they do feel that Israel has a mission and a destiny - if not a predestiny - and that the power and wonder that this evokes is spiritual in its ethos and in its ability u) arouse and sustain a profound degree of personal identification and involvement.

The message of Chanukah's ritual is comprehensive. It is directed both to those who can easily relate to the God of daily, or even intermittent, miracles, as well as to those for whom Israel's destiny has to be secured by her own sacrifice and national endeavour, leaving God totally - or almost totally - out of the equation.

And this is underscored by the first that we recite two blessings over the lights: Tile first, lehaldlik ner shel Chanukah (Blessed art thou ... Who has commanded us 'to kindle the Chanukah lights'), recalls the miracle of the pot of oil, an occurrence which demands unequivocal belief in tile God who miraculously intervenes in tile affairs of men, and particularly Israel.

The second blessing, she'asah nisim (Who wrought miracles for our fathers in those days') is to be construed as a separate blessing, whose focus goes beyond the miracle of tile oil, but partakes rather of a general thanksgiving for the military victory of the Maccabees, the delivery of 'the mighty into the hands of the weak, the many into tile hands of the few, and the implore into tile hands of the pure.

This is reflected in the phraseology of the she'asah nisim blessing, which refers, in the plural, to 'the miracles performed for our forefathers in those days and at this time.'

While the first of the three categories of believers we have alluded to above would certainly attribute the Maccabean military victory to miraculous Divine intervention, there remains room for those in the second and third categories to participate in the Chanukah experience. Finding their point of identification in the second, rather than the first, blessing, they are enabled to affirm their belief in the netzach Yisrael, the 'eternity of Israel, the mystic fate that drives us on and spiritually energizes us, and - to employ Soloveitchik's term - in the brit goral, the common fate and destiny of the Jewish people.

That these two concepts may legitimately stand independently of each other, and that Chanukah makes room not only for the miracle affirmers but also for those who do not read Jewish history through a specifically spiritual prism, is reflected in the halachah that whoever has no oil or candles to light, and who clearly cannot, therefore, recite the first blessing (lehadlik ner), must, nevertheless, recite the second blessing - which also hails the military dimension of the Chanukah story - in a situation where this is brought home to him as a result of his having seen someone else's lights burning.

Viewing that second blessing as intrinsically interconnected with the miracle of the oil, and regarding it, therefore, Merely as an adjunct to the first blessing, would render meaningless the former's reference to tile continuation of that miracle (of tile oily 'into our own day' (bazman ha-zeh). Only by construing tile second Chanukah blessing as a more comprehensive thanksgiving, for the miracle of Jewish defence and survival, can the bazman ha-zeh motif be sustained.

Viewed in this way, we are provided with an explanation of why the identical she'asah nisim blessing is prescribed for the reading of tile Purim Megillah. The millennia have not dimmed our pride in both our heroic self-defence and the glorious deliverance that was secured at that period, thus lending contemporary relevance and resonance to the phrase bazman ha-zeh.

This attribution, of a distinct and separate significance to each of those two Chanukah blessings, also provides an answer to a question posed by Tosafot. Referring to the Talmudic statement that one Who is unable to light his own Chanukah lights must nevertheless recite the second blessing (and shehecheyanu if it be on the first night of the festival) in a situation where he becomes a spectator (roeh) of someone else's kindling,[4] Tosafot wonders how it is that in connection with other rituals, such as lulav and Succah, no such blessing was instituted for those who are prevented from : performing their own mitzvah, but who observe others in the process of performing it! Tosafot offers two speculative answers, the preferred one being the suggestion that perhaps Chanukah is elevated in this way because of (chavivut ha-nes, 'the deep attachment we have for the miracle of Chanukah'.[5]

Our suggestion, that the blessing she'asah nisim, to be recited by a spectator, refers more particularly to the miracle of the military victory, would explain why it was prescribed for a spectator from afar, who, quite obviously, is not religiously involved with the ritual of lighting.

Reminiscent exclusively of the miracle of the oil, but is, nevertheless, graphically reminded of the broader historical dimensions of this festival, as

underscored by the she'asah nisim blessing. As regards Tosafot's analogy with the rituals of lulav and Succah, they are, ritualistically and commemoratively, more intrinsically single-dimensional, whereas, in the case of Chanukah. the two miraculous elements are clearly separable: one performed on the battle fields, the other in the Temple.

Another halachic objection to regarding the blessing she'asah nisim as but a reinforcement of the reference to the miracle of the lights is that, were that to be the case, then the roeh, who observes them from afar, ought not to recite that blessing on account of an established principle that 'one may not recite a blessing over a light unless he is enjoying a direct benefit from its rays'.[6] We can only conclude, therefore, that the she'asah nisim blessing that the spectator is enjoined to recite must have a much broader remit, encompassing the entirety of tile historical miracle.

Further halachic support for this view is forthcoming from a statement of Meiri that

One who has nothing with which to kindle his Chanukah lights, and is also not in a place where he will be enabled to observe others kindling, nevertheless, according to some authorities, he must still recite (or himself-the blessing she'asah nisim and shehecheyanu on tile first night, and she'asah nisim (alone). And this view seems correct.

This view of Meiri is also a powerful indicator that the she'asah nisim blessing is not restricted to the miracle of the lights, and is therefore prescribed even in the situation described, where there are no lights either to be lit or even observed. The other miraculous dimension of the festival - the military victory of 'the weak over the strong, etc.' - nevertheless still requires to be recalled in the context of an appropriate blessing.

Though Chanukah summons all our people to 'publicise the miracle', and attempts to excite us and to make us sensitive to Almighty God's direct interest in our personal, as well as our Jewish, national life, it nevertheless allows for those who cannot light the intensive light of total faith and full observance themselves - those who remain mere spectators of lights of faith kindled by others - to still feel an essential and cherished part of our people's history and destiny, sand it encourages them to recite whatever blessings they are comfortable with.

The halachah is optimistic that next year they will not lack oil or be deprived of the fuel and nourishment of spiritual enlightenment, but will be motivated to rekindle not only their Chanukah lights, but also their own inner reserves of faith, so that they can also join in the affirmation of the miracle of Chanukah as well as of nisecha shebechol yom immanu, 'the miracles that are wrought for us each day: evening, morning and noon'.

From: L'Eila, 48 1999, pp. 49-52.

[2] Zohar, Bemidbar sec. 200.

[3] Midrash Shochar Tov sec. 106.

[4] Shabbat 23a; Succah 46a.

[5] See Tos. Succah 46a.

[6] Mishnah Ber. 8:6.