I really do love that song [“Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas]. The lilting phrases, the way it soars and then returns. And those lyrics, right, just so…pushy.

I don’t mean any offense to the song, but really think about it. The song ends by telling us, “Have yourself a merry little Christmas, NOW!” It’s said tenderly and with deep compassion, but it still sounds like an order. And that’s nothing particularly new in this time of year.

Tinsel, lights, and holiday music spring up here and there without any warning. Somehow calendars seem to fill up almost by themselves with trips, visits, parties, and more. It’s as if an unseen, unknowable force, conjures up these events just to get us into the holiday spirit. The overwhelming feeling that this force exerts at this time of year causes different reactions in people. For some, the crush of the season’s commercialization of holidays strikes a sour chord this time of year. They are eager to see this time of year pass by. But for others, this time of year, and the anticipation of its approach, bring feelings of warmth and excitement. And even…of miracles.

This week will mark the beginning of Hanukkah, the time when Jewish members of our human family remember the events of centuries’ past, when a group of Jews under siege, forced from their worship spaces and homes, were successful, after two long years of fighting, in pushing back Greco-Syrian invaders who had taken control of the sacred temple in Judea. Our wonderful Spirits sang us the song of the Maccabee families overcoming this oppression. And following this military victory, the Talmud tells us that the traditional seven-candle, golden menorah was lit to cleanse and rededicate the temple after the invaders had erected a statute of Zeus in it and profaned it in other ways.

But as the story goes, the amount of oil that should have lasted only one night, lasted for eight nights. And that is why at Hanukkah a different menorah is used. In Hebrew, “menorah” simply means lamp, but a menorah is often a candelabra type of lamp. And the menorah used during Hanukkah, called a hanukiah, has eight places for candles and a ninth candle to help light the other eight flames, rather than the traditional seven-candle style. The ninth candle, the one we removed and showed the children during the story is the samash, which means The Helper Candle.

It’s a beautiful image, a helper candle. It conjures the image of that one special candle in every menorah. You know the one—that candle with an almost oddly positive disposition about life, always, going around every night to help yet another fellow candle, gathering just one more candle into its happy little fold.

And the event that this ritual and celebration memorializes is also beautiful: a small amount of oil, enough for just one day, burning and lasting for all of eight days. It was a miracle to the Maccabees. And now in the minds of many, it is this miracle that stands out to those who observe and those who are familiar with Hanukkah.

Yet scholars agree that the celebration of Hanukkah for many years, long before the story of the menorah emerged, was a day to celebrate a military victory. In the oldest texts about the Maccabean military victory, there is no mention of the miracle of the menorah. Even in the older Talmudic writings, writings which accompany and illuminate the texts of the Torah, there are no mentions of the miracle. It would be centuries after retaking the temple from the Syrian-Greeks until the first mention of the miracle in Talmudic writing.

And it should not be any wonder, that the first mention of the menorah miracle comes to us from a Talmud written in a time in Jewish history when significant persecution of the Jewish faith was being perpetrated in Roman-occupied lands. One scholar’s theory, like many of her colleagues, is that Rabbis in this period in the 5^th and 6^th centuries wanted to avoid the appearance of militarism and potential armed conflict with the occupying force.[1] The rabbis worried that celebrating a holiday memorializing a military victory over an oppressive force might lead to more violence. So some believe that the creation of the miracle of the menorah was a way to celebrate the spirit of the event, rather than the facts of it.

And taking what we know about the experience of the Jewish people at these times, doesn’t it make sense?

Doesn’t it make sense that those caring for the lives of the community would see a thriving community of Jewish families whose ancestors survived a violent occupation and assault so that they can continue to build their shared lives together, and say, “It’s a miracle.”

Doesn’t it make sense to behold the flicker of life in a child’s eye and know that six hundred years earlier, that child’s ancestors fought for and won the life of this tiny descendant? “It’s a miracle.”

Doesn’t it make sense that a lamp lasting eight days when it should have gone out can hardly hold a candle to the centuries of surviving violence and oppression? Truly, that is a miracle.

Unitarian Universalism, as a faith tradition, does not have an opinion on miracles. Ours is a faith of shared principles, not creeds or dogmas or texts. Among those who uphold our shared principles, you will find a range of individual beliefs about the world’s miraculous events. I know that many of us, not unlike our reading today by Howard Thurman, have a deep an abiding belief in spirits of good, like angels. And one of the things to love about our shared faith is that right after any of our services, you can find a believer in miracles sharing coffee and talking story with another of us who could not possibly be convinced that a supernatural phenomenon ever took place anywhere. And our history has some notable examples of friends just like that—friends who didn’t take too kindly to the mention of miracles.

Take Thomas Jefferson for one. He lived in the commonwealth of Virginia at a time when all those who were permitted to attend church in Virginia were considered part of the Episcopal Church because it was the state church of Virginia. However, many, including, arguably, Jefferson himself, considered Jefferson to be a Unitarian. And he received this label, which was meant as an insult at the time, for many reasons.

But I’ve got a hunch that the primary reason, the reason that left very little doubt on the subject, was probably his creation of the Jefferson Bible. The Jefferson Bible was a project of Thomas Jefferson’s. Its real title is the The Life and Morals of Jesus of Nazareth and Jefferson referred to an earlier version of the book simply as The Philosophy of Jesus.

And when I say it was a project…I mean an arts and crafts project. Because The Jefferson Bible was created by Jefferson actually sitting down with a razor blade, some paste, and some paper, and going to work on his personal cut-and-paste project…of the King James Bible, and specifically, the Christian gospels. He removed references to miracles. He removed what he deemed to be supernatural activity, including the resurrection of Jesus, among other things. And he pieced together what was left in the gospels into a bound manuscript.

Now, I’m guessing a few of you are a little curious how this all worked out for Jefferson, so in the spirit of the season, let’s take a look at one of the more memorable sections of the gospels.

“And it came to pass in those days, that there went out a decree from Caesar Augustus, that all the world should be taxed…. And all went to be taxed, every one into his own city.”[2] Does this sound familiar to you? OK.

“And Joseph also went up from Galilee, out of the city of Nazareth, into Judea, unto the city of David, which is called Bethlehem, (because he was of the house and lineage of David,) to be taxed with Mary his espoused wife, being great with child.”[3] Still sounding familiar to many of us I’m thinking.

“And so it was, that, while they were there, the days were accomplished that she should be delivered and she brought forth her firstborn son, and wrapped him in swaddling clothes, and laid him in a manger; because there was no room for them at the inn.”[4]

Huh. Feels a little light, right? No angels bending near the earth. No shepherds being sore afraid. No holy assurances for Mary or Joseph that they will soon raise the son of God. And so we’re clear, we read together the entire birth narrative for Jesus in the Jefferson Bible. We didn’t skip around.

Jefferson shared his enthusiasm for his project with some of the prominent Unitarians of the day, but he might have known better than to share his work too widely because the Jefferson Bible was not published in his lifetime. It was his grandson who published the work eventually. And today, through the miracle of technological advances, the Smithsonian has made the original “cut-and-paste” project available to the public to see. And if you look closely in a few spots, you’ll see that in addition to the wholesale cutting and pasting Jefferson did, he also makes some copyediting changes to the King James text. Deleting a preposition here and there. Changing “out” to “up” in one case with a pen. I don’t know which is more Unitarian: taking out any mention of miracles, or correcting God’s grammar.

But not everyone shares Jefferson’s hope for a purely ethical or philosophical faith. Not everyone holds every truth to be self-evident. Miracles and miraculous events are deep, powerful, and life giving parts of many of our own faith lives. As Unitarian Universalists we seek to build a community where faiths, where beliefs, where understandings of the universe around us, understandings that nourish the interconnected web we share are welcome, are wanted. But one of the real challenges we have as a movement is to be truly welcoming to faiths or elements of others’ faiths that we don’t understand or don’t also believe, like believing in miracles.

How many times have we heard something like this: “Well, we as UUs support and affirm all beliefs and faiths,…but…if you’re super religious, like if you believe in miracles, it just might not be the place for you.” And how may times have we even said something like that ourselves? Maybe we are saying it to protect someone from feeling hurt or let down. Maybe a part of us is saying it to protect our own church, the place where we feel safe and comfortable.

But when we do this. When we tell people that shepherds don’t listen to angels, when we tell people that oil only lasts as long as it lasts, when we tell people that their beliefs would make them more comfortable somewhere else, we are telling people we are uncomfortable with our own beliefs being challenged. And that is not what Unitarian Universalism is.

We stand now in the glow of the chalice we lit together today. Many people don’t know the story of the flaming chalice and how it became a symbol of Unitarian Universalism. Some will look at the symbol and think, well, that looks like other religious symbols. It’s probably been around for hundreds, maybe thousands of years. Not so.

When an Austrian cartoonist, Hans Deutsch[5] was living in Paris in 1940, he was drawing cartoons critical of Adolph Hitler. So when the Nazis invaded France, he left all he owned and made his way to safety in Portugal. In Portugal, he met Reverend Charles Joy, the director of the Unitarian Service Committee. The Service Committee was working throughout Europe from their Lisbon base of operations to help Jewish members of our human family to escape and flee Nazi occupation.

Deutsch joined the work of the Service Committee. And it was not long until he found that the committee needed an official looking symbol in order to identify themselves both to those they were helping to free as well as to those in power in the countries from which Jewish people we trying to flee. Deutsch sketched out a flaming chalice and the Service Committee adopted the chalice as its emblem right away. In fact, Deutsch’s creation was so well received that the Service Committee decided to create and issue its very own travel documents. So folks who might have lost documents or other papers needed for travel were able to get travel documents with the seal of the Unitarian Service Committee and the flaming chalice, and were able to travel from Nazi occupied areas to safety.

It is estimated that, in all, the small Service Committee participated in the liberation of thousands of Jewish people throughout Europe. And after the war had ended, Deutsch reflected on the work he and his friend had done as well as on his own religious beliefs in a letter to his friend Revered Joy.

His words

“I am not what you may actually call a believer. But if your kind of life is the profession of your faith—as it is, I feel sure—then religion, ceasing to be magic and mysticism, becomes confession to practical philosophy and—what is more—to active, really useful social work. And this religion—with our without a heading—is one to which even a ‘godless fellow like myself can say wholeheartedly, Yes!”

And reflecting in particular on the life and work of Reverend Joy, Deutsch said, “There is something that urges me to tell you… how much I admire your utter self denial [and] readiness to serve, to sacrifice all, your time, your health, your well being, to help, help, help.”

We kindle this flame together every Sunday. We kindle this fame before every meeting, every gathering many of us hold in our homes. And when we kindle this flame, we remember.

We remember the times that prejudice, bigotry, and hate rose to tear more names from the pages of the book of life. And we help, help, help.

We remember those left broken and injured by a faith that was never their own, that peddled fear and torment under the guise of love. And we help, help, help.

We remember those sitting right next to us here, struggling, aching, mourning, bringing all that it means to be to totally human here with them today. And we help, we help, we help.

It is with the deepest humility that we suppose to hold together for a moment this candle of aide and comfort, The Helper Candle, the shamash, and to remember.

To remember that no matter what the shepherds did or didn’t see, we must all be shepherds on watchful guard for our fellows,

To remember that no matter how close to earth the angels may or may not have bent, we must all hold fast to the better angels of our nature, and bend the arc of the moral universe always toward justice.

Because we do not know for certain when a miracle might be coming in the future, whether we will hear the angles sing, seeing the glory all about.

Because we do not know for certain whether a miracle might have been part of our own past, whether truly the candles burned for eight days with the oil for one.

As Unitarian Universalists we are called rather to hold fast to the miracle of service, the miracle of help, the miracle of love we might be today. We must be ready for the miracle of Hanukkah, as it lives in the generations and generations of those who survived, those who lived. We must be ready for the miracle of Christmas in the celebration of ways that love finds a way to light the paths of justice, even in the darkest times. Because we must be ready to have a Happy Hanukkah, we must be ready to have a Merry Little Christmas, now.

And may it ever be so. Amen.

[1] Malka Z. Simkovitch, Uncovering the Truth about Hanukkah, TheTorah.com, November 27, 2013.

[2] Thomas Jefferson, The Life and Morals of Jesus of Nazareth, I.1,3.

[3] Ibid., I.4-5.

[4] Ibid., I.6-7.

[5] For an expanded story of the creation of the flaming chalice, please read “The Flaming Chalice” by Dan Hotchkiss, a UUA-published pamphlet, also available online at https://www.uua.org/beliefs/who-we-are/chalice/flaming-chalice.