Hanukkah (Chanukah) is an 8-day Jewish festival that many non-Jews don't know much about, besides menorahs and dreidels. But Glenn believes that we should all learn an important lesson from this holiday — now more than ever. Glenn recounts the real story of Hanukkah: a story of persecution, perseverance, and "of the culture being overtaken by the spirit of the age, which turns out always to be an evil lie." It is a story that is all too familiar these days. But "even though the darkness is everywhere," Glenn says, we must never back down because "YOU might be the last spark in sight."

Transcript

Below is a rush transcript that may contain errors

GLENN: Well, tonight, is the first night of Hanukkah. Classic Jewish holiday.

That answers the age tested formula. They tried to kill us.

We're still here.

Let's have a doughnut.

Yes. Considering --

STU: Officially. That's an official subscription?

GLENN: It is. It is. Well, fried dough. Hanukkah involves eight days of eating large amounts of fried food or fried dough. And that's not a joke. And that's why I'm considering, I don't know.

Maybe we should put a little more emphasis on the Jewish side of Judeo Christian, you know.

We get doughnuts.

Anyway, it's also a -- a -- an odd holiday. Its story has no book. The book -- the Books of Maccabees exist, but they're not in Jewish canon.

They were actually preserved by Christianity.

And when locking that canon, the sages apparently felt uncomfortable with the books of Maccabees. Not because they weren't relevant.

But most likely, because they were too relevant.

It risked making waves at the time, when Jews were, again, dependent on the mercies of others.

So on Hanukkah, Hannah -- candles are lit for eight days. And it commemorates the miracle of one day's pure oil, burning for eight days. The miracle of the oil.

When the Maccabees reconsecrated the temple in Jerusalem, it burned for eight days. The real story actually has to do with that, as much as Christmas has to do with trees and presents.

And this relates to everyone, especially those in America, today, and those in the Western world.

It takes place in the mid second century BC, some time after Alexander the Great. The Greeks were ruling the known world, including the backward corner still known then as Judea.

Polytheistic culture dominated. And first, it was just toleration for local religion and custom.

And then less and less. Until eventually, the local Greek overlords tried to erase Judaism.

Oh, again.

And they tried to force people to worship idols, and the king thought that everybody ought to worship his idols or die.

And that's usually how it runs. First, you're told, you need to tolerate this.

And who are you to say otherwise?

And if you tolerate him, then we'll tolerate you.

I promise. I pinkie promise. Then you're told, that your God is -- is not really God.

And their God is not worse than any other God. Certainly, it's not your intolerant God. So pipe down. Then you're told, bow down to the idol, along with everybody else. Or else. Right?

Familiar yet?

This happens every time the world tries this. Many of the Jews, at the time, went along, seeking refuge through assimilation, into the dominant culture.

See Germany, as an example.

But then some of the extremists went and spoiled the game for everybody. One of the priests said, no.

And he and his sons took to the hills, starting a hopeless revolt against the mighty Greeks.

Except, it wasn't so hopeless.

In the words of the holiday prayer, that begins tonight, God gave victory to the few over the many. And the revolt actually succeeded in restoring Jewish sovereignty. And the rededication of the temple.

For a brief time, the book continues on with the cautionary tale about what happens when too much power is accumulated in one person. Even if they start out as noble.

And a victor for a righteous cause. Here's a hint. The story doesn't end well.

Through the centuries now, Jews have correctly, I think, read this story, against dissimulation, into the current dominant culture at the cost of the abandonment of Judaism.

Also, to teach that Jews should stick with God, even when that may be dangerous. I want to show you, if you happen to be watching Blaze TV.

I want to show you a very famous picture, in a Berlin window. This was taken in 1931. And it's a picture of a menorah, in the front of a window.

The house is owned by -- was owned by a rabbi.

And he put the menorah, in the front window.

Anti-Semitism was starting to run ramp rampant. But he decided, I will not hide my light. And he put his menorah right in the front window.

The reason why this picture is very, very famous. Is because that window faces in the picture, you'll see a swastika, and a banner of the Nazis across the street.

It's not just a banner with a swastika across the street. Okay?

That is the -- the swastika, and banner that marked the Nazi headquarters. So this was the headquarters of all the Nazis, and across the street, lived Jew. And he was like, yeah.

Yeah. That's nice and everything. But I'm not afraid of you.

It's an amazing. Amazing picture.

By the way, on the back of that snapshot, on the original, it says, the flag says death to Jude a lot of people. The light says, Judaism will live forever. It's an amazing picture.

Now, Hanukkah is the story. And this is why it's so important to all of us.

Is the story of the few against the many.

Those who should get crushed like bugs, facing down the mighty empire. And somehow or another, coming out on top.

Why? Because the cause is just. And they stand on the right side.

1776, anyone?

Rebels against the galactic empire. Good versus evil. David versus Goliath. The kind of story that we tell, we seek out, again and again and again.

Because it stirs something deep inside all of us.

This is our story. Or it can be.

And it might have to be.

The story that tells us, yes.

Sometimes everyone else can be wrong. But maybe you can be right. Even if you're standing all alone, and you scared the piss out of yourself.

That just because the majority. Even the overwhelming majority goes along, doesn't make it right.

The story of Hanukkah is the story of the culture being overtaken, by the spirit of the age.

Which turns out, always to be a lie. And an evil lie.

It tells us that deep within, we know, all of us know when it's a lie. Deep down.

When we're told, there's settled consensus. Or whatever it is.

And we're the only primitives to hold out.

Because an unborn baby is not a person.

That man is a woman, if he says so.

You know, there are just too many humans. We have to get rid of some of the useless ones.

You know, for their own good. And the good of the planet.

We know deep down, when somebody is telling us, there is no God. No meaning to your life. Only submission.

And how do we know it's true? How do we know that's a lie?

We read -- we know it, when we remember the light. The light that Jews all over the world will kindle tonight, should speak to us, all of us. Because the light is the refusal to quit.

To give up when there's no hope. Even -- even though the darkness is everywhere, you might be the last spark in sight.

The last priest who will just not bow down to the idol.

The last one who will just not stand aside. Won't stand down. Won't sit down. Won't shut up.

Even when told, the alternative is destruction. It's oblivion. It is death.

Don't you dare put that candle in that window. Don't you know there are hundreds of Nazis, and all of the leaders of the Nazis, in the building, directly across the street, what are you doing?

You know, when somebody says, sit down and shut up. Or we'll destroy you.

You know the exact reverse is true. That giving in, means oblivion, and death, and worse.

It means the loss of what is most precious about our existence, here on earth.

The loss of meaning. The extension of everything that is true.

The desertion of our reason, for being.

To be a light against darkness.

To stand for what's good and true.

And you know that standing up means life itself, even if others are threatening death. Maybe you'll pay a price. But the spark, I bear. Will always live.

This Hanukkah, this holiday season, I rejoice at the opportunity to bear the spark. Now, of all times, that spark says, I'm alive.

Here and now.

I'm here precisely to do this. And so are you. That spark that you liked, will say the same thing.

I'm not alone. I have a power that is stronger than all the powers on earth. I know who I am. I know whose light I bear. Every night of Hanukkah, Jews all around the world, light one more candle.

And the light grows, as if one candle lights up the next and the next. As if light and fire, like courage, is contagious.

And guess what, it is.