“Daddy, can you tell me a story?”

“Sure, honey. What do you want it to be about?”

“Well, how about Chanukah?”

“That works, since it is Chanukah.”

“How about a story about a girl from Chanukah? A Maccabee girl.”

“Hmm, that sounds interesting.”

Jonathan Birnbaum was snuggled up on the couch with his daughter. Every night he told her a story before she went to bed. Depending on his mood, it could be about almost anything, from princesses (his daughter’s favorite), to brave warriors (his 9-year-old son’s preference), to great women of the Bible (his wife’s input), to ice-cream-eating zombies who swallow whole cars and use large oak trees as toothpicks (his own choice). Really, no topic was off limits.

Across the room from Jonathan and his daughter Esty was Jonathan’s wife, Joanna. She pretended to be reading the New Yorker, some high falutin’ article about Azerbaijan, but Jonathan knew she was actually flipping through the cartoons and listening to his tale, so he had to make it good.

“OK, honey, let’s talk about the girls, um, women of Chanukah.”

“Great.”

“You know, the women were very important to Chanukah. That’s why, while the Chanukah candles are burning, women aren’t supposed to work around the house.”

This caused Joanna to put down her magazine, fold her arms and glare at him.”

“Of course, they shouldn’t be working around the house, anyway. I mean, the housework should be equally shared between men and women, if you ask me.”

Joanna went back to the New Yorker. Close call.

“Anyway, there were Maccabee women and men. All of them fought to defeat the Greeks and to purify the Beit Hamikdash, the Temple.”

“Like, which women?” Esty asked.

“There was Yehudit Maccabee. Judith was Judah Maccabee’s sister.”

“What did she do?”

“She killed a Greek general.”

“How did she do that?”

Joanna wrinkled her nose at Jonathan. Esty was 6, and this story was to be strictly G-rated.

“Um, she waited until he was asleep, and then nailed him with a sword when he wasn’t looking. Wham!”

“That doesn’t sound very exciting.”

“I suppose you’re right,” Jonathan agreed. “But let me tell you something. There was another Maccabee sister, one whom not everybody knows about.”

“What was her name?”

“It was Shimona, like her brother Shimon the Maccabee.”

Joanna let out a sigh.

“Except she changed her name to Tamara Maccabee, because she had no interest in living in her brother’s shadow. She was an independent woman.”

Joanna smiled, not looking up from her article.

“Really?”

“Yes, really. Tamara the Maccabee. She, too, was a fierce warrior. She was trained in using a sword and shield just like her brother Judah. Tamara smote many Greeks in battle. And she knew all the latest guerilla tactics, just like the other Jewish fighters.”

“What do gorillas have to do with it?”

“Never mind that. Let’s just say she was one tough character. One time she defeated a whole platoon of Greeks all by herself. But as time went on, she chose not to fight.”

“Why not?”

“Because men are from Mars, and women are from Venus.”

That elicited a chuckle from across the room.

“What do you mean?”

“The Maccabees had many great warriors, but not many peacemakers. Tamara believed in bringing people closer to Hashem through kinder means. In fact, her brother Judah’s nickname was The Hammer because he was so strong and so direct. Tamara was called, um, The Velvet Glove, because she always found a way to smooth things out and make people feel better about themselves.”

“What did she do?”

“Well, in the time of the Chashmonaim, of the Maccabees, there were a lot of Jews who weren’t following the mitzvot, the commandments. They were called Hellenists, and some of them even sided with the Greeks.

“Really?”

“Yes, these things have been known to happen. Tamara knew she had to try to bring these people back to the fold. So after the Jews defeated the Greeks in battle, and rededicated the Beit Hamikdash, she was there to patch things up and bring all the Jews together.”

“How did she do that?”

“Good question. Let me tell you. I’m sure you know of the miracle of the kad shemen, the one oil jar that lasted for eight days.”

“Uh huh.”

“Tamara was the one who spread the word about that. She was the one who created the tradition of lighting candles to commemorate the miracle. That way all the Jews could feel part of the holiday. Otherwise, it would only have been about winning a battle. But lighting the candles and knowing about God’s role in the Beit Hamikdash would let all the Jews be a part of Chanukah. She taught us to put the nissim and the purkan, the miracles and the salvation, before the gevurot and the milchamot, the mighty deeds and the victories. She united the whole Jewish nation.”

“Wow.”

Even Joanna seemed impressed.

“So, in many ways, Tamara was the most important of the Maccabees.”

Esty gave her father a big hug, “Thanks, Dad.”

“Go brush your teeth.”

Esty started to walk toward the bathroom.

“And, Esty?”

“Yeah, Dad?”

“Tomorrow night? It’s the story of the latke that swallowed Teaneck.”

“I give up,” Joanna said.

By Larry Stiefel