By MICHAEL DAVIDOW, Radio Free New Hampshire

It’s time for my annual Chanukah column. This holiday fascinates me.

            As a child, I used to think it was simple. The story gets told like this: a handful of pious Jews rebelled against the Greeks who ruled their land, because those Greeks had tried to forbid the proper worship of God. Against all odds, that rebellion succeeded, and that band of priests and soldiers was able to re-establish the ancient independent kingdom of Judea. Among other things, they minted their own money again, because happy governments do that. Hence we eat chocolate coins to celebrate their victory. And no, I don’t know where that idea came from, to eat toy money. Some genius chocolatier, I suppose.

            Anyway, most of that is wrong. What happened was more like a civil war, in which nearly all of us modern Jews would have probably chosen the wrong side. Which is why we don’t teach these things to children.

            The parties were four in number.

            Those imperial rulers were none other than the Seleucid dynasty of Syria, the local heirs of Alexander the Great. The Seleucids ran a competent empire, which contained plenty of Jews in many different territories; among them, Judea itself, with its capitol in Jerusalem. Like most successful imperial types, the Seleucids maintained a deft touch. They left people alone, so long as they paid their taxes. But they also rewarded whoever advanced their causes.

            Then there were the Jews of Jerusalem, the big urban center, whose interests tended to be aligned with those of their imperial governors. Think international trade policy, and urban development. Think also of cultural tolerance, and progressive ideals.

            Then there were the Jews of the countryside (can you see where this is going, folks?), who disliked and distrusted their city brethren. Think of farmers, who found their crops undervalued, who never believed their brokers were honest, and who both feared and loathed Jerusalem’s cultural leanings. These country types were nationalists. They were deeply conservative, and they wanted no Greek culture admixed into their faith.

            Then there were the Egyptians (and this is my favorite part, because the standard story doesn’t mention them at all). Heirs to a separate Alexandrian bequest, the Ptolemy dynasty actively competed for wealth and influence with their own Greek brethren, those same Seleucids of Syria. Moreover, in governing Egypt, a country with a longstanding and highly centralized administration, the Ptolemy bureaucracy had adopted Egyptian ways. If the Seleucids were an active and modernizing force in their lands, the Ptolemies tended to reward stasis: the rural mindset writ large.

            The stage was set. Two competing empires, two ways of conducting business, one small piece of land separating their armies, and two local parties at cultural, political, and financial odds. Backed by Egypt, the rural rebels made their move. The urban establishment called on their sponsors for help. The Seleucids responded, rightly seeing this action against Jerusalem as the hidden expression of a Ptolemaic power move. The battle was joined. But empires can be over-extended, and the Seleucids proved to be just that. They lost a grinding war of attrition that lasted many years. And thus we eat chocolate coins.

            There’s a strikingly modern feel to this story. Sandals and spears aside, the cut and thrust of big-game strategy still shines through across the millennia. But we don’t celebrate any of that. We celebrate the unlikely victory of that rural and backwards religion, instead: the victory of the conservative party over their progressive foes.

            That cultural triumph did not last. Gaining power in Jerusalem, the new leaders soon fell prey to the same influences as their forebears. The rural dynasty became corrupt, and the small land which it ruled remained beholden to the big empires surrounding it.

            What was truly gained, was one more step in the formation of the Jewish religion. The Jews of antiquity had never believed in an afterlife, for instance. But during the course of this bloody rebellion, the Jews of the countryside began to speak of one anyway. The irony here is rich: though they stood for the old ways, they themselves changed those ways. They wrote about martyrs for their cause, who would be rewarded in times to come.

            That thought took root within our faith. It solved the theological problem of how to deal with the suffering of innocent human beings. Without it, in fact, the story of Jesus and all that stems from it might not have been possible.

            So Happy Chanukah.  It comes early this year, by the way. It starts the Sunday after Thanksgiving.  Plenty of time to eat that chocolate, before all those Christmas cookies can take center stage.

Author Michael Davidow To Speak in Manchester Dec. 15

Michael Davidow is a lawyer in Nashua.  He is the author of Gate City, Split Thirty, and The Rocketdyne Commission, three novels about politics and advertising which, taken together, form The Henry Bell Project,  The Book of Order, and his most recent one, The Hunter of Talyashevka . They are available on Amazon and Barnes and Noble.