In two days time we'll begin celebrating Hanukah, the Jewish festival of lights, best known for our custom of lighting for eight days the candelabrum we call the menorah, symbol of the one that once stood in the temple in Jerusalem. The interesting thing about Hanukkah, though, is the way its significance changed over time.

We can read the first draft of the story in the first and second books of Maccabees. They tell of how Antiochus IV, one of the rulers of the Alexandrian empire, forbade the public practice of Judaism and erected pagan statues in the temple. The Jews rose in revolt and won the most remarkable military victory in the history of ancient Judaism. They reconquered Jerusalem, reconsecrated the Temple, and recovered their freedom.

Yet the books of Maccabees never made it into the Bible, because the military victory was short lived. Within a century Israel was again under foreign rule, this time the Romans, and 130 years after that the Temple was destroyed. Had that been the whole story, there would today be no Hanukah, perhaps no Judaism.

What lasted wasn't the military victory but the religious one. Within a century Jews had transformed themselves from a people organised around kings, soldiers and power into a faith built on home, school and synagogue. The Hanukah lights came to represent the words of the prophet Zechariah: Not by might nor by force but by my spirit, says God.

Hanukah holds a message of hope for the people of Iraq. The capture of Saddam Hussein means that the military campaign has effectively reached closure. It doesn't mean that violence will end. Tragically, there will be more terror, suicide bombings and tensions between the different religious groups and ethnic populations that make up Iraq.

But the question now will be: can Iraq begin the long journey to a free, civil, and ultimately democratic society. And that can't be answered by outside forces, the United States or the United Nations. It can only be answered by the Iraqis themselves.

What Hanukah tells us is that military victories are short lived. What matters in the long run are habits of the heart. Can we respect the freedoms of others as well as our own? Can we pursue peace, not just power? That depends on what we teach the next generation in our homes, schools and houses of worship.

So this Hanukah I'll say a prayer for the brave and battered people of Iraq. May they too see the last flames of war light a lasting candle of peace.

© Copyright Office of the Chief Rabbi 2001 - all rights reserved. Reproduction of this Web site, in whole or in part, in any form or medium without express written permission from the Office of the Chief Rabbi is prohibited.