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The Feast Where Simon Maccabeus Was Betrayed

Judas outwits Gorgias by vanishing from camp at midnight, Simon wins the priesthood through his own wealth, then dies at a feast.

Curated by Arthur · Told by Maggid ·
Table of Contents
  1. The Empty Camp at Night
  2. Simon Remembered Across Generations
  3. The Peace That Came With Simon
  4. Knives at the Feast

The Empty Camp at Night

Gorgias came looking for Judas in the dark. He brought a strong force and good intelligence: the Jewish fighters were camped at Emmaus, fewer in number, worse equipped, and vulnerable to a night raid that would scatter them before they could form a line. He left his own camp and marched into the hills to find them.

He found an empty camp. The tents were there, the fires perhaps still warm, but the men were gone. Judas had moved first. While Gorgias climbed into the Judean hills searching for the Jewish army, Judas was already marching on Emmaus from a different direction.

At dawn Judas stood before a force considerably larger than his own. He had perhaps three thousand fighters, some without armor, some without adequate weapons. What they had was nerve and the specific kind of courage that comes from knowing the alternative is extinction. Judas told them that it was better to die fighting than to watch the destruction of their people and their sanctuary. The numbers did not change. The courage remained.

They charged. The mercenary infantry broke and ran toward the plain. The cavalry fled to Philistia. When Gorgias came down from the hills and saw his own camp in flames and the army dispersed, he also fled. Judas had won by refusing to be where the enemy expected him to be.

Simon Remembered Across Generations

The revolt moved through brothers. Mattathias began it. Judas carried the battle forward with the kind of ferocity that makes legends. Jonathan survived where Judas could not and held the political and priestly authority together through years of negotiation, alliance, and sudden violence. When Jonathan was taken and killed by Tryphon, the trap closing on a man who had trusted a promise he should not have trusted, the leadership passed to Simon.

Simon was the last of Mattathias's sons still standing. He rose not by conquest alone but by something rarer among military leaders: he spent his own money. When the struggle was at its most uncertain, when the country needed walls, when Jerusalem needed fortifications, when fighters needed pay, Simon drew on his own resources. He did not wait for a patron. He did not negotiate foreign subsidies with the strings that foreign subsidies always carry. He paid.

The people recognized the difference. When the Hasmonean dynasty was formally confirmed, the text of the decree the people issued was exact about what Simon had done: he had sustained the war with his own silver and gold. The memory was kept deliberately, because it established the nature of Simon's authority. He had not seized the priesthood or the leadership. He had earned them by spending himself on the community's survival.

The Peace That Came With Simon

Under Simon, the land had peace. The statement in 1 Maccabees is simple and has the quality of something that had been impossible for so long that the people barely knew how to receive it. Every man sat under his vine and under his fig tree, and no one made them afraid. Old men sat in the squares talking. Young men wore glorious armor. Simon gave food to cities and equipped them with weapons and made his name famous to the ends of the earth.

This was the vision Micah had spoken, every person under their vine and their fig tree, as a picture of what shalom would look like when it finally arrived in a place that had known nothing but trouble. 1 Maccabees deploys that image deliberately. Simon was not only a military and political leader. He was, for a generation, the answer to a prophetic promise.

The peace was real and the peace was fragile. It existed because Simon held it together, and Simon was mortal.

Knives at the Feast

Ptolemy son of Abubus had married Simon's daughter. He held the command of the plain of Jericho. He was ambitious and he was patient, and he waited until the right moment arrived.

The moment arrived at a feast. Simon visited the cities of the district with his sons Mattathias and Judas. At Jericho, Ptolemy invited them into his stronghold and gave them a banquet. He had men hidden in the inner room, waiting. When Simon and his sons had drunk enough that caution was further away than usual, Ptolemy's men rose and killed Simon and Mattathias and Judas at the table.

The betrayal had been rehearsed. Ptolemy had already sent messengers to Antiochus VII offering to hand over the country and requesting troops. He sent men to seize the cities of Judea. He sent a letter to the commander John, Simon's remaining son, inviting him to his death as well.

John received warning before the letter arrived. He survived. The revolt continued. But the last of Mattathias's sons died at a feast, killed by a son-in-law who had calculated that the moment of peace was also the moment of maximum danger. A man secure at his own table, eating and drinking with his sons, has let his guard down in the one place he believed the danger was over.


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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 4:5The Book of Maccabees I

King Antiochus's forces, eager to crush the rebellion, were planning a surprise attack. 1 Maccabees 4 tells us their goal was simple: "...rush in upon the camp of the Jews, and smite them suddenly." And to make matters worse, they had inside help – "the men of the fortress were his guides." Treachery within the walls!

Judas Maccabeus, a brilliant strategist and fearless leader, wasn’t one to sit idly by and wait for the blow to fall. Hearing of the impending assault, Judas, along with his valiant fighters, decided on a daring counter-move. They would strike the king's army stationed at Emmaus – but at a very specific moment. While the main forces were away, scattered from their camp.

Meanwhile, Gorgias, a commander in the Seleucid army, was executing his part of the plan. Under the cover of night, he approached Judas’s camp. But when he arrived, he found… nothing. Empty tents. No sign of the Jewish fighters. "These fellows flee from us," he concluded, according to 1 Maccabees. So, where did he think they went? Naturally, he assumed they were hiding in the mountains, the terrain offering a perfect escape route.

Here's where the brilliance of Judas’s strategy shines. Just as dawn broke, Judas and his men appeared on the plain. Only three thousand strong, and facing a much larger, better-equipped enemy. The text notes they "had neither armour nor swords to their minds." Not ideal. But what they lacked in equipment, they more than made up for in courage and tactical genius. They weren’t fleeing. They were waiting. Judas knew Gorgias would expect them to run. He used that expectation against him. By appearing in the plain, seemingly vulnerable, Judas was setting his own trap. A trap that would change the course of the rebellion, and ultimately, Jewish history.

What can we take away from this moment? Perhaps it’s the reminder that appearances can be deceiving. Or maybe it’s the idea that courage and cleverness can sometimes outweigh brute force. Whatever the lesson, the story of Judas Maccabeus continues to resonate, reminding us that even against overwhelming odds, hope – and a good plan – can prevail.

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The Book of Maccabees I 14:23The Book of Maccabees I

Sometimes, history throws us these little gems that remind us And that's exactly what we find in the Book of Maccabees.

The Book of Maccabees I, a historical text not included in the Hebrew Bible but preserved as ancient Jewish literature, recounts the story of the Maccabean revolt – a pivotal moment in Jewish history. It’s a story of courage, faith, and the fight for religious freedom. But nestled within this epic tale, we find a curious little diplomatic note. It's a letter, plain and simple.

The scene is ancient Judea, around the 2nd century BCE. Simon Maccabeus, the high priest and leader of the Jewish people, receives a message.

Who’s it from? None other than the rulers of the Lacedemonians. Yes, you heard right – Sparta.

The letter begins in a formal tone, as befitting diplomatic correspondence: “The rulers of the Lacedemonians, with the city, unto Simon the high priest, and the elders, and priests, and residue of the people of the Jews, our brethren, send greeting.”

“Our brethren.” for a second. Sparta, addressing the Jewish people as brothers. What’s going on here?

The letter goes on to explain: “The ambassadors that were sent unto our people certified us of your glory and honour: wherefore we were glad of their coming, And did register the things that they spake in the council of the people in this manner; Numenius son of Antiochus, and Antipater son of Jason, the Jews’ ambassadors, came unto us to renew the friendship they had with us.”

So, Jewish ambassadors – Numenius son of Antiochus and Antipater son of Jason – had journeyed to Sparta to reaffirm a pre-existing bond. A friendship.

Now, why would Sparta and Judea have had a friendship? It seems… unlikely, doesn’t it? These were two very different cultures, separated by geography and, seemingly, by ideology.

Some scholars suggest that this connection might stem from a shared, albeit mythical, ancestry. According to the Second Book of Maccabees (5:9), there was a belief circulating that the Spartans and the Jews were descendants of Abraham. Legends of the Jews, in its recounting of Jewish history and lore, may shed further light on such claims of shared ancestry, if we investigate it further. It’s a fascinating idea, suggesting a perceived kinship based on ancient lineage.

Others believe it was purely a strategic alliance. Both Judea and Sparta were relatively small states surrounded by larger, more powerful empires. Perhaps they saw each other as potential allies in a dangerous world, a way to bolster their own security through mutual support.

Whatever the reason, this brief passage in Maccabees offers a glimpse into a complex web of relationships in the ancient world. It reminds us that history is rarely simple, that alliances can form in unexpected places, and that even across vast cultural divides, a sense of shared identity – real or imagined – can bridge the gap.

So, the next time you feel a connection with someone from a different background, remember the Spartans and the Maccabees. Remember that even across centuries and continents, the bonds of kinship, of shared struggle, and of mutual respect can endure. And isn't that a powerful thought?

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The Book of Maccabees I 16:19The Book of Maccabees I

The story of Simon Maccabeus ends with just such a twist, a chilling reminder that even the most triumphant lives can be cut short by treachery.

We find ourselves in the Book of Maccabees I, a historical text that recounts the heroic story of the Maccabean revolt against the Seleucid Empire. Simon, the last surviving son of Mattathias, had led the Jews to freedom and established a period of relative peace and autonomy. But peace, as we know, is often fragile.

The narrative takes a dark turn in chapter 16. A man named, the son of Abubus, who was ostensibly a friend, invites Simon and his sons to a feast at a small fortress he had built called Docus. This Docus wasn't just a place of merriment; it was a trap, meticulously planned. Abubus, in a move that reeks of calculated betrayal, had hidden armed men within the fortress.

The scene: Simon, weary perhaps after years of struggle, relaxes with his sons, enjoying the warmth of fellowship. The wine flows, the conversation lively. But as Simon and his sons drink "largely" – perhaps too trusting, too comfortable – Ptolemee (the son of Abubus) and his men spring their trap. They draw their weapons and fall upon Simon, his two sons, and their servants, slaughtering them in cold blood right there in the banqueting hall.

The text doesn’t shy away from the horror. It bluntly states, "In which doing he committed a great treachery, and recompensed evil for good." It’s a stark condemnation, a simple yet powerful indictment of the baseness of Ptolemee’s actions. He repaid Simon's kindness with unimaginable cruelty.

But Ptolemee's ambition didn't end with murder. He saw an opportunity to seize power. He immediately wrote to the king, offering to deliver the country and its cities in exchange for military support. He aimed to capitalize on the chaos and solidify his control through further bloodshed and oppression.

What a devastating end for a leader who had dedicated his life to the liberation of his people! The story of Simon’s assassination serves as a stark reminder: even after achieving victory, vigilance remains paramount. The threat of betrayal, the insidious nature of those who feign friendship, can strike when we least expect it. It's a poignant, if tragic, chapter in the ongoing saga of the Jewish people, a evidence of both their resilience and the ever-present dangers lurking in the shadows. It forces us to consider who we trust, and how easily trust can be broken.

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The Book of Maccabees I 16:15The Book of Maccabees I

The story of Simon Maccabeus, as told in the First Book of Maccabees, resonates with that unsettling truth.

We find Simon, the leader who helped liberate Judea, doing what leaders do: touring the cities, ensuring everything is in order. He’s in Jericho, enjoying a visit with his sons, Mattathias and Judas. The year is 177 of the Seleucid era, the eleventh month, known as Sabat (Shevat in the Hebrew calendar). A seemingly peaceful scene. But lurking in the background is Ptolemeus, son of Abubus. Now, Ptolemeus held a powerful position – he was captain of the plain of Jericho. He also had wealth, “abundance of silver and gold,” the text emphasizes. And here’s the kicker: he was the son-in-law of the high priest.

So what went wrong? 1 Maccabees tells us, plain and simple: “his heart being lifted up, he thought to get the country to himself.” Power and ambition, those age-old corruptors. Ptolemeus, puffed up with his own importance, begins to plot. He wants Judea for himself.

How does he plan to achieve this? Through deceit. He “consulted deceitfully against Simon and his sons to destroy them.” The language is stark, direct. No ambiguity here. This wasn't a political disagreement; this was a cold-blooded conspiracy.

Think about the human element here. Simon, the aging hero, trusting those around him, perhaps a little too much. Ptolemeus, the insider, consumed by ambition, willing to betray family and country for personal gain. It's a timeless drama, playing out against the backdrop of ancient Judea. What makes a person turn on those closest to them? What breeds that kind of treachery? The story of Ptolemeus is a chilling reminder that even in times of victory and peace, the seeds of betrayal can be sown. And sometimes, those seeds sprout in the most unexpected places, watered by the darkest of human desires.

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