2 Maccabees 4:21–22

2 Maccabees 4:21 — Geopolitical Maneuvering and a Detour to Jerusalem

The verse opens with a precise diplomatic detail: Apollonius son of Menestheus has been sent to Egypt for the enthronement of Philometor. This refers to the accession of Ptolemy VI Philometor (ca. 180–145 BC), and the mission situates Antiochus IV Epiphanes within the volatile power rivalries between the Seleucid and Ptolemaic kingdoms. The author's phrasing — that Antiochus "learned that Philometor had shown himself hostile toward the government" — underscores that Antiochus is first and foremost a calculating political actor. His movement toward Jerusalem is not an act of religious interest or benevolence; it is a strategic detour taken to secure his western flank before potential conflict with Egypt.

The route is significant. Joppa (modern Jaffa) was the principal Mediterranean port serving Jerusalem and had long been a gateway both for commerce and for invading forces. By naming this waypoint, the author traces an itinerary familiar to any reader of the period: one travels inland from the coast to ascend to Jerusalem. The choice of the word "travelled on" (Greek: παρεβάλετο, or similar in the original) hints at something almost incidental — Jerusalem is a stop, a calculated gesture, not a pilgrimage.

2 Maccabees 4:22 — A Welcome Fit for a Pagan King

The reception described here is one of the most damning details in the chapter. Jason, who had purchased the high priesthood by outbidding his own brother Onias III (cf. 2 Macc 4:7–10), now orchestrates a welcome for Antiochus complete with torches and shouting — ceremonial elements drawn from Hellenistic royal pageantry. This is not the spontaneous joy of a liberated people; it is a staged performance of submission and flattery by a leader who owes his very office to this same foreign king's goodwill.

The torchlight procession (lampadēphoria) was a recognized Hellenistic honorific: torches by night signified divine or quasi-divine status being attributed to the one welcomed. For Jason to employ this imagery at the gates of the holy city — where the Temple of the Lord stood — constituted a profound symbolic inversion. The light that should illuminate only the worship of God is here deployed to glorify a Gentile monarch whose later actions (the desecration of the Temple, the persecution of the faithful) will be recorded in the very same book.

Typological and Spiritual Senses

In the typological reading cherished by the Catholic tradition, this passage anticipates a recurring biblical pattern: the unfaithful shepherd who opens the sheepfold to the wolf. Jason, compromised by ambition and cultural accommodation, cannot distinguish the true from the false, the sacred from the profane. The Fathers read this kind of narrative as a warning against amor mundi — the disordered love of worldly esteem — infecting those entrusted with sacred office.

The torches and shouting also stand in ironic contrast to the true entry of a king into Jerusalem. Where the crowd will one day cry "Hosanna!" and wave palms for Christ (John 12:12–15), here the crowd performs an empty imitation — welcoming not the Prince of Peace but an agent of oppression. The city's festive reception of Antiochus thus functions typologically as a dark anti-type of the triumphal entry of Christ, highlighting by contrast the difference between the city that receives its true King and the city that prostitutes its welcome to worldly power.

Catholic tradition, attentive to the unity of Scripture and the sensus plenior, reads this passage within a broader theology of fidelity to covenant and the danger of compromised leadership. The Catechism of the Catholic Church teaches that the priestly office is not a personal possession but a sacred trust: "Holy Orders is the sacrament through which the mission entrusted by Christ to his apostles continues to be exercised in the Church" (CCC 1536). Jason's corruption — his purchase of the high priesthood and his eager accommodation of Hellenistic power — stands as a perennial warning about what happens when sacred office is treated as a vehicle for personal or political advancement.

Pope St. Gregory the Great, in his Regula Pastoralis, specifically warned that a pastor who seeks the approval of the powerful rather than the welfare of souls "exchanges the glory of the interior life for the smoke of human praise." Jason's torchlit welcome of Antiochus is, in Gregory's terms, exactly this exchange.

St. John Chrysostom, commenting on similar episodes of worldly compromise among religious leaders, observed that the greatest persecutions of the Church come not only from without but from within — from those who, in seeking to secure themselves with the world's rulers, ultimately betray the flock.

The passage also speaks to the theology of religious syncretism. The Second Vatican Council's Nostra Aetate and the Church's broader tradition affirm that while truth can be found in other cultures, the wholesale absorption of foreign religious and political values at the expense of revealed religion is a form of apostasy. Jason's embrace of Hellenism — symbolized in this very welcome — is the historical backdrop against which the Maccabean martyrs and warriors define authentic faith.

Finally, the Deuterocanonical status of 2 Maccabees, affirmed by the Council of Trent, reminds Catholics that this history belongs within the inspired canon and carries doctrinal weight — including its witness to prayer for the dead (2 Macc 12:46) and the resurrection (2 Macc 7).

This passage challenges contemporary Catholics with uncomfortable directness. Jason's failure was not dramatic apostasy but gradual accommodation — he reframed faithfulness as irrelevant to the demands of political and cultural survival. Catholics today face analogous pressures: institutions, parishes, and individual believers are regularly invited to "welcome" the values of a secular culture with torches and shouting, to signal belonging to the world at the price of Gospel witness.

The concrete application is this: examine where you perform enthusiastic welcome for what the culture celebrates, while offering only tepid or embarrassed acknowledgment of your faith. Jason did not deny God outright — he simply made God's honor subordinate to Antiochus' visit. The modern equivalent might be the Catholic professional who is effusive about cultural causes but falls silent about the Church's teachings on life, justice, or worship. It might be a parish that redesigns its liturgy to mirror entertainment culture while the Tabernacle gathers dust.

The antidote is not cultural hostility but the discipline of ordered love — what St. Augustine called ordo amoris: loving all things in their proper place, beneath and in service to the love of God. Ask yourself honestly: in your home, your workplace, your community — who gets the torches?