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.