1 Maccabees 16:23–24

In the two closing verses of 1 Maccabees, the author applies a formal scribal formula — borrowed consciously from the Books of Kings — to bring the narrative of John Hyrcanus to its literary end. The reader is directed to external annals for the full account of John's reign, wars, walls, and achievements. These verses do not diminish John but situate him within a venerable tradition of covenantal leadership, acknowledging that no single book can contain the whole of a faithful life lived in God's service.

Verse 23 — "The rest of the acts of John…"

The phrase "the rest of the acts" (Greek: loipai praxeis) is a deliberate and unmistakable echo of the regnal closing formulae of the Books of Kings (e.g., 1 Kgs 14:19, 29; 15:7; 2 Kgs 8:23). In those texts, the Deuteronomistic historian routinely concludes an account of an Israelite or Judean king by gesturing outward to larger archives — "the Book of the Chronicles of the Kings of Israel" — as a way of signaling both completeness and limitation. The author of 1 Maccabees, writing in a self-consciously historical style steeped in the idioms of the Hebrew scriptures, employs this same formula to crown John Hyrcanus with a kind of royal dignity, even though his formal title is that of high priest, not king.

The catalogue of John's accomplishments is telling: wars, valiant deeds, the building of walls, and achievements (epinoia, meaning shrewd counsel or ingenious plans). This fourfold summary is not merely administrative; it reflects the ancient Near Eastern ideal of the complete ruler — warrior, builder, sage. John Hyrcanus (r. 134–104 BC) was indeed all of these: he expanded Judean territory substantially, destroyed the Samaritan temple on Mount Gerizim, razed Samaria, and undertook significant fortification works. The building of walls carries symbolic weight beyond military necessity — in the biblical imagination, walls signify security, covenant protection, and the restoration of a community (cf. Neh 2–6; Ps 51:18). That John is remembered as a builder connects him to the long tradition of those who rebuild the House of Israel after ruin.

Verse 24 — "Behold, they are written in the chronicles…"

The word "behold" (idou) here functions rhetorically to direct the reader's gaze outward — toward sources now lost to us, but understood by the original audience as authoritative. The "chronicles of his high priesthood" (hypomnēmatismos) refers almost certainly to official temple records or court annals maintained during his tenure. The precision "from the time that he was made high priest after his father" is a chronological anchor: John received both the political and sacerdotal succession from Simon (cf. 1 Macc 16:11–17), whose own death at the hands of Ptolemy was narrated just verses earlier. This succession note is not incidental. It underscores the dynastic-priestly continuity that is the theological spine of the entire book of 1 Maccabees — the legitimate transfer of leadership within a family chosen, in the narrative's telling, by God and by the people.

Catholic tradition has long read the Books of Maccabees not merely as historical records but as inspired Scripture — a point worth emphasizing given that the Protestant canon excludes them. The Council of Trent (Session IV, 1546) definitively affirmed 1 and 2 Maccabees as deuterocanonical, recognizing their place within the full apostolic inheritance of the Church. This means that even this closing scribal formula is inspired text, worthy of theological attention.

The closing formula of 1 Maccabees invites Catholic reflection on the theology of legitimate authority and succession, themes dear to the Church's self-understanding. The transfer of the high priesthood from Simon to John mirrors the apostolic principle that sacred office is received, not seized — John becomes high priest "after his father," through legitimate inheritance, not usurpation. The Catechism teaches that legitimate authority serves the common good and derives ultimately from God (CCC 1897–1899). The entire Maccabean narrative dramatizes what happens when this order is violated (the Hellenizing priests) and what flourishes when it is honored.

St. Clement of Alexandria saw the Maccabean books as exemplars of virtue under persecution — models for the Christian martyr tradition. Origen, in his homilies, drew on the Maccabean material to underscore that fidelity to the Law (now fulfilled in Christ) demands the whole of one's life. The image of the "chronicles of the high priesthood" also resonates with the Catholic conviction, articulated in Dei Verbum (II Vatican Council), that divine revelation is transmitted through both Scripture and Tradition — pointing us always to sources beyond any single written text, toward the living memory of the Church herself.

For the contemporary Catholic, these two quiet closing verses offer a surprisingly rich spiritual provocation: not everything important about a faithful life can be written down. In an age saturated with self-documentation — social media feeds, curated digital narratives, institutional metrics — the formula "behold, it is written in the chronicles" reminds us that the most significant dimensions of a life lived for God exceed any archive. The Church herself operates on this principle: her living Tradition, her sacramental life, her unwritten apostolic customs, carry more than any catechism entry alone can.

Practically, a Catholic might ask: What are the "chronicles" of my own Christian life? Not the public résumé of accomplishments, but the interior record — the rosaries prayed, the acts of charity hidden from view, the moments of fidelity in difficulty — known fully only to God. John Hyrcanus is sent to his annals; we are sent to the Lamb's Book of Life (Rev 20:12). The closing of this book is not the closing of the account. Let that be both a comfort and a sober call to fidelity in the ordinary, unrecorded work of Christian life.