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Simon Took Gaza and Israel Began Counting From That Day

Simon was the last Maccabee brother standing. He stood before a terrified assembly and said he knew he was no better than the ones already dead.

Curated by Arthur · Told by Maggid ·
Table of Contents
  1. The Last Brother Standing
  2. The Citadel Falls
  3. A Different Kind of Victory
  4. The Year That Started Over

The Last Brother Standing

Simon stood before the assembly in Jerusalem and told them he knew he was no better than his brothers. This was not false modesty. Mattathias was dead. Judah was dead. Jonathan had been kidnapped at a peace conference and then executed when Simon refused to pay the ransom. Simon was the fifth and last son of Mattathias, roughly fifty years old, and he had been fighting since before most of the men in front of him had been born. The assembly trembled when he spoke. They had heard versions of this speech before. They had heard it from his father and from Judah and from Jonathan, and each time they heard it, the man giving it eventually died in the field.

Simon was asking them to believe it one more time. They said: you shall be our leader in place of Judah and Jonathan your brother. Fight our battles and we will do everything you command us.

The Citadel Falls

What Simon did next was methodical in a way his brothers had rarely been. Judah and Jonathan had been brilliant on the battlefield. Simon was brilliant in the spaces between battles, the negotiations and sieges and administrative arrangements that turned military victories into actual sovereignty. He took the Citadel in Jerusalem, the Seleucid fortress that had sat inside the city for a generation, occupied by a garrison that had watched and harassed and threatened every Jewish government since the revolt began. He did not storm it. He starved it. He waited until the garrison was hungry enough that they walked out, and then he cleaned the Citadel with songs and palm branches and musical instruments and hymns of thanksgiving, and he declared the day of its fall a festival day to be observed every year.

A Different Kind of Victory

He took Joppa and garrisoned it. He took Gezer and cleared the town of every defilement. He rebuilt the fortifications of Jerusalem. He brought peace to the land. The Book of Maccabees I records, with unmistakable satisfaction, that the people sat under their own vines and fig trees and no one made them afraid. This is the language of the prophets, the old description of what Israel looks like when it is finally itself. Simon had made it happen, not through a single dramatic battle but through relentless, patient, competent governance.

Then he took Gaza. The port city that had been a Hellenistic stronghold, that had resisted or evaded every previous Maccabean campaign, fell to Simon. He expelled the men who were in it and settled new inhabitants in their place. From that day forward, no foreign garrison controlled the coastal access to Judea.

The Year That Started Over

The assembly of Israel met in Jerusalem in the third year of Simon's governance. They passed a resolution. From that day forward, the documents of Judea would be dated not by the year of the Seleucid king in Antioch but by the year of Simon, high priest and ethnarch and commander of the Jews. The calendar itself was changed. A new era had begun, measured from the man who had taken the last fortress and given his people back the ability to count time from themselves.

The text of the resolution was engraved on bronze tablets and placed on Mount Zion. No one who had not been present to see the brothers fight and fall would be allowed to take the priesthood or the leadership away from the family. It was written in stone and metal. It was published and posted in the Temple precincts. Israel was counting from that day.

MaccabeesChanukahSimonGazaSovereigntyApocrypha
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From the tradition

Sources

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The texts this telling draws on, in full. Open a card to read inline, or expand it for a wider, quieter read.

The Book of Maccabees I 13:5The Book of Maccabees I

The Book of Maccabees I turns to Simon Rallies the Trembling Nation After Jonathan Falls.

The scene: the people are gripped by trembling and fear. Years of war, persecution, and religious oppression have taken their toll. They're weary, uncertain, and desperately seeking leadership.

Then there's Simon. He ascends to Jerusalem, gathers the people, and delivers a powerful speech. It’s not a boastful declaration, but something far more profound.

"Ye yourselves know what great things I, and my brethren, and my father’s house, have done for the laws and the sanctuary," he begins. He's not asking for praise, but reminding them – and perhaps himself – of their shared history, their collective struggle. He reminds them of all the battles they fought together, all the troubles they had overcome to get to this point.

Think about the weight of those words: "the laws and the sanctuary." This wasn’t just about territory or power; it was about preserving their very way of life, their connection to God, their sacred traditions.

Then comes the gut-wrenching part. "By reason whereof all my brethren are slain for Israel’s sake, and I am left alone." Can you imagine the vulnerability, the sheer grief in that statement? His brothers, those legendary figures like Judas Maccabeus, were gone, sacrificed in the fight for freedom. He is the last one standing.

And what does he do with that unbearable burden? Does he crumble under the pressure? Does he retreat, seek safety, or compromise his values? Absolutely not.

"Now therefore be it far from me, that I should spare mine own life in any time of trouble: for I am no better than my brethren."

That line – "I am no better than my brethren" – it just sends shivers down my spine. It's a evidence of his humility, his unwavering commitment, and his profound sense of duty. He refuses to place himself above those who gave everything. He understands that the cause is bigger than any one individual.

It’s a powerful moment of leadership, isn’t it? He speaks not from a place of power, but from a place of shared sacrifice, of unwavering faith, and of profound humility.

What does Simon’s speech mean for us today? It reminds us that even in the face of overwhelming adversity, even when we feel utterly alone, we have the capacity to stand firm, to uphold our values, and to fight for what we believe in. It's a call to remember our shared history, to honor those who came before us, and to never give up hope. It reminds us that true leadership isn't about power, but about service and sacrifice.

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The Book of Maccabees I 13:45The Book of Maccabees I

Someone, somewhere, has to decide what's important enough to write down. And that act of writing? It's powerful.

In the Book of Maccabees I, we stumble upon just such a moment. It's almost offhand, almost a footnote, but it reveals a huge shift. "Then the people of Israel began to write in their instruments and contracts, In the first year of Simon the high priest, the governor and leader of the Jews." (1 Maccabees 13).

Pause. Let that sink in.

Before this, there's a sense of things being in flux, of power shifting and reforming. But this – this is the moment they start dating their documents according to Simon’s reign. This is the moment Simon, the leader who helped wrest Judea from Seleucid control, becomes more than just a military leader. He becomes the foundation of a new era.

It's a declaration, isn't it? A statement of independence, of self-governance. We, the people of Israel, are now in charge of our own destiny. We mark time by our own leader. No longer beholden to others.

The text then immediately shifts to war. We see Simon laying siege to Gaza. He "camped against Gaza and besieged it round about; he made also an engine of war, and set it by the city, and battered a certain tower, and took it" (1 Maccabees 13).

It's a brutal, almost mechanical description. Engines of war. Battered towers. Taking…it. But within that violence, there's also the assertion of power that backs up the previous claim of sovereignty. Simon isn't just dating documents; he's actively defending the borders of this newly defined nation.

And the people of Gaza? Their reaction is visceral. "They that were in the engine leaped into the city; whereupon there was a great uproar in the city: Insomuch as the people of the city rent their clothes, and climbed upon the walls with their wives and children, and cried with a loud voice, beseeching Simon to grant them peace" (1 Maccabees 13).

Rending clothes is a sign of mourning, of desperation. To see an entire city, families, begging for peace… it’s a stark reminder of the human cost of these power shifts. It paints a picture of the real-world consequences of the new era Simon is ushering in.

So, what do we take away from this seemingly small passage? It’s about more than just war and politics. It's about the very human act of creating a new reality, of declaring, through both pen and sword, "This is who we are now." It's a reminder that even the most momentous historical shifts are built upon countless individual choices, acts of resistance, and the enduring hope for peace, even in the face of war.

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The Book of Maccabees I 12:37The Book of Maccabees I

Sometimes, it's about the nitty-gritty of securing borders, fortifying cities, and making shrewd strategic moves. That's precisely what we see in the story of the Maccabees. to a specific moment, found in the Book of Maccabees I, chapter 12. It meant securing the very land itself.

Simon, (1 Maccabees 12). Now, Ascalon, Ashkelon in Hebrew, was a Philistine city, a major power center along the coast. Securing the "holds there adjoining" meant asserting control over strategically important areas. But then he turned his attention to Joppa (modern-day Jaffa).

Why Joppa? Because, as the text explains, Simon "had heard that they would deliver the hold unto them that took Demetrius’ part; wherefore he set a garrison there to keep it." Demetrius, represented the Seleucid Empire, the Hellenistic power the Maccabees were fighting against. Joppa, a port city, was a crucial access point. Losing it to Demetrius would have been a major blow. So, Simon acted decisively, placing a garrison there to ensure its loyalty. It was a preemptive strike, securing vital infrastructure.

What about Jonathan? While Simon was out securing territory, Jonathan, another brother and leader, was focused on internal fortification. Returning home, "calling the elders of the people together, he consulted with them about building strong holds in Judea." This wasn't just about military strength; it was about civic engagement. He sought counsel, recognizing that building a nation required the consent and cooperation of its people.

Then comes a fascinating detail: "And making the walls of Jerusalem higher, and raising a great mount between the tower and the city, for to separate it from the city, that so it might be alone, that men might neither sell nor buy in it." This "tower" likely refers to the Akra, a Seleucid fortress that overlooked the Temple Mount. By building a "great mount" (essentially a fortified earthwork), Jonathan aimed to isolate the Akra, cutting it off from the city and preventing trade or communication. It was a siege strategy, aimed at weakening the enemy's hold.

Think about the symbolism here. Jerusalem, the heart of Jewish life, was being physically reshaped, its defenses strengthened, its vulnerabilities addressed. This wasn't just about military strategy; it was about reclaiming sovereignty, about asserting control over their own destiny.

What does this all tell us? That nation-building isn't just about battles and treaties. It's about the patient, persistent work of securing territory, building defenses, consulting with the people, and isolating your adversaries. It's a reminder that even the most spiritual of aspirations require a solid foundation in the practical realities of power and governance. It’s about the choices and actions, sometimes dramatic and sometimes mundane, that shape the course of history.

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Megillat Antiochus 1:78Megillat Antiochus

The brave Ḥashmonaim rising up against the oppressive King Antiochus and his Greek armies. But what happened after they reclaimed the Temple in Jerusalem?

Well, the scroll known as Megillat Antiochus – also called the Scroll of the Ḥashmonaim – picks up the story. It's a relatively short text, a historical narrative written in Hebrew and Aramaic, that gives us another lens through which to understand the Hanukkah story.

In scroll, the sons of the Ḥashmonaim – the Maccabees – and their descendants ruled over Israel from that victorious day until the destruction of the Beit haElohim, the Temple of God. How long did they rule? A period of two hundred and six years, the Megillat Antiochus tells us. That's quite a dynasty spawned from a revolt against tyranny! From a small band of rebels to rulers of the land. Quite the turn of events, isn't it?

The story doesn’t end there. The scroll goes on to emphasize the importance of the holiday itself. "Therefore," it says, "do the children of Israel observe these days in all the lands of their dispersion, as days of feasting and joy, for eight days beginning with the 25th of Kislev." Kislev, of course, being the month in the Jewish calendar when Hanukkah falls.

The Megillat Antiochus drives home the eternal nature of the holiday. It states that "from that day and evermore, this festival shall not depart from the holy places of Israel." Why? Because the Kohanim (priests), Levi’im (Levites), and sages ordained it for themselves and their descendants. They made a pledge, a commitment, to keep it forever.

It’s a powerful statement about continuity, about tradition, and about the enduring spirit of the Jewish people. It's not just a story of a military victory, but the story of a people who, even in the face of adversity, chose to celebrate, to remember, and to pass on their heritage to future generations.

So, as we light the candles each year, remember the Ḥashmonaim, remember the rededication of the Temple, and remember the commitment to keep the light of tradition burning bright. The Megillat Antiochus reminds us that Hanukkah isn't just about the past – it's a living evidence of the enduring power of faith and the importance of remembering our history. What will we do to keep that flame alive?

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The Book of Maccabees I 14:33The Book of Maccabees I

About the moments when a community decides, "This is important. This needs to be remembered"?

Let's travel back to a pivotal moment in Jewish history, a time of war, resilience, and ultimately, self-determination. It's not part of the Hebrew Bible as we know it, but it’s considered canonical in Catholic and Orthodox traditions, and offers a crucial historical perspective on the Maccabean revolt. This passage isn't just about dates and names; it's about a people consciously crafting their own narrative.

The verse reads, "So then they wrote it in tables of brass, which they set upon pillars in mount Sion." An inscription, etched in brass, a permanent record displayed for all to see in Jerusalem. This wasn't a casual diary entry. This was a declaration.

The date is precisely given: "The eighteenth day of the month Elul, in the hundred threescore and twelfth year." That's 172 years after the Seleucid era began, if you're keeping track. Elul, by the way, is the month just before Rosh Hashanah, the Jewish New Year, a time of reflection and preparation. It's a detail that grounds us in the rhythm of the Jewish calendar.

And the location? "At Saramel in the great congregation of the priests, and people, and rulers of the nation, and elders of the country, were these things notified unto us." Saramel is a bit of a mystery; some scholars believe it's a symbolic name for Jerusalem, others think it's a specific location within the city. Regardless, the key is "the great congregation." This wasn't a decision made in secret. It was a public affirmation, a communal act of remembering. Everyone – priests, people, rulers, elders – was involved.

Why this public proclamation? The text explains: "Forasmuch as oftentimes there have been wars in the country, wherein for the maintenance of their sanctuary, and the law, Simon the son of Mattathias, of the posterity of Jarib, together with his brethren, put themselves in jeopardy."

Think about the stakes. The Seleucid Empire, a powerful Hellenistic kingdom, had been trying to impose its culture and religion on Judea. The Beit Hamikdash (the Holy Temple), the very heart of Jewish life, was desecrated. And it was Simon and his brothers – the Maccabees – who rose up in defiance.

"…and resisting the enemies of their nation did their nation great honour." It's a simple statement, but it speaks volumes. It wasn't just about military victory, it was about restoring honor, dignity, and religious freedom to the Jewish people.

This passage is so much more than just historical record. It is a evidence of the power of collective memory, to the importance of remembering those who fought for what we believe in.

What stories are we etching in brass today? What moments are we choosing to remember, and how will they shape the future? These are questions worth pondering, inspired by the actions of Simon Maccabee and the people who chose to remember his valor.

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The Book of Maccabees I 13:50The Book of Maccabees I

The Book of Maccabees I, a historical text filled with the drama and fervor of the Maccabean revolt, recounts a pivotal moment. After years of struggle against the Seleucid Empire and its Hellenistic influences, the Maccabees, led by Simon, stood on the precipice of reclaiming their heritage.

Gezer, a city steeped in history, had become a stronghold of idolatry and oppression. But the tide was turning. The people of Gezer, realizing their precarious position, pleaded for mercy. "Deal not with us according to our wickedness," they cried, "but according to thy mercy."

The scene. Simon, a warrior, a leader, faced with the pleas of a defeated people. What would he do? Revenge? Retribution? That Simon was "appeased toward them." He chose mercy. It's a powerful moment, isn't it? A reminder that even in the heat of battle, compassion can prevail. He didn't continue the fight against them. Instead, he expelled them from the city.

Then came the cleansing.

The houses, once filled with idols, were purified. Simon entered Gezer "with songs and thanksgiving." Imagine the sounds, the relief, the sheer joy of reclaiming a sacred space. He removed all the tumah, all the uncleanness, restoring the city to its former glory.

But it wasn't just about physical cleansing. Simon understood that true restoration required a spiritual foundation. He placed men in the city "as would keep the law," ensuring that Gezer would not only be strong but also righteous. He fortified it, making it stronger than ever before, and even built a dwelling place for himself there. A symbol of his commitment to the city's future.

There’s a very real sense of building and rebuilding, not just physically but spiritually and ethically.

And what of those who remained in the tower of Jerusalem? They were kept "so strait, that they could neither come forth, nor go into the country, nor buy, nor sell." A stark reminder of the consequences of clinging to the past, of resisting the call to renewal.

This passage from Maccabees I isn't just a historical account. It's a story about choices. About mercy versus retribution. About cleansing and rebuilding. About the enduring power of faith and the importance of leadership that combines strength with compassion.

So, as we reflect on Simon Maccabeus and his entry into Gezer, let's ask ourselves: What choices are we making? Are we building a future of strength and righteousness? Or are we clinging to a past that holds us captive? The story of Gezer reminds us that even in the darkest of times, the possibility of renewal always exists.

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The Book of Maccabees I 14:14The Book of Maccabees I

It paints a picture of Simon Maccabeus, a leader who didn't just rule, but rebuilt.

The verse reads, "He provided victuals for the cities, and set in them all manner of munition, so that his honourable name was renowned unto the end of the world." Not just food, but also protection. He made sure the cities were fortified, secure. His reputation spread far and wide. You know, like a true hero.

Then comes the part that really gets you. "He made peace in the land, and Israel rejoiced with great joy: For every man sat under his vine and his fig tree, and there was none to fray them." The image is so potent, isn't it? The simple pleasure of sitting under your own vine and fig tree – a symbol of prosperity and security – without fear.

There’s something so deeply human in this. It speaks to a fundamental longing for safety and peace. A home where you can simply be.

This imagery of sitting under one's vine and fig tree is not unique to Maccabees, of course. We find it in (1 (Kings 4:2)5) and (Micah 4:4), expressing a similar sentiment of peace and security. It's a powerful, recurring theme in Jewish thought.

The text continues, "Neither was there any left in the land to fight against them: yea, the kings themselves were overthrown in those days." It wasn't just about defense, but about actively vanquishing those who threatened the peace. Simon Maccabeus took decisive action.

But it goes beyond military strength. "Moreover he strengthened all those of his people that were brought low: the law he searched out; and every contemner of the law and wicked person he took away." He uplifted the downtrodden, he delved into the halakha (Jewish Law), and he rooted out wickedness. A leader who cares for the vulnerable, upholds the law, and fights against injustice. It’s a holistic vision of leadership. He understood that true strength wasn’t just about military might, but about moral fiber.

So, what can we take away from this ancient text? Perhaps it's a reminder that true leadership is about more than just power and control. It’s about creating a society where everyone can live in peace and security, where justice prevails, and where the vulnerable are protected.

Maybe, just maybe, that's a model worth striving for, even today.

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