Being Jewish at Christmas

Tales from the Beyond the Pale
Being Jewish in America at Christmas

Some of my grandparents were from the Pale.  The Pale, which derives from a word for fence, included those parts of Poland, Lithuania, and Russia where Jews were required to live from the time of Catherine the Great to the Russian Revolution.  To my grandparents, beyond the Pale must have meant places like Moscow, St. Petersburg and Vienna.

One set of grandparents came to New York in the late 1800s, and the other to Boston, in the early 1900s.  Here in America, they found a place where they could live and work without restrictions placed on them because of their religion and where there were no pogroms.  They liked it here.

So, for the purpose of this series of vignettes, beyond the pale refers to my native country, the U. S. of A.  and only occasionally takes on the popular meaning of outside the bounds of acceptable behavior.  For me, being Jewish in America has never been much of a problem, but it is sometimes interesting.

Everything you Ought to Know about Hanukkah, but Maybe Had No One to Ask

If you are Jewish, or like most of the gentiles I know, you may know as much about Hanukkah as I do.  If so, you can skip this part.  For the rest of you, here's the short version.

Although it falls in December, Hanukkah is not the Jewish Christmas.  It is one of the several Jewish holidays that can be summarized as: They tried to kill us. They didn't. Thank God.  Let's eat.

In this case, "they" were Antiochus, the Greek ruler of much of the Middle East, and his army.  Unlike his predecessor, Alexander the Great and those who followed him, Antiochus prohibited the Jews from practicing their religion.  Some Jews, particularly the urban ones, went along with this.  Others, particularly the rural ones, didn't.  In 167 BC, Mattathias and his sons led a revolt against the Greeks.  When Mattathias died, his son Judah Maccabee took over.  By 160, the Jews won. 

All of this is considered more or less historical and is recorded in the Book of Maccabees found in some Christian Bibles.  Apparently it came too late to be included in the Jewish one.  Besides, God didn't figure very heavily in it.

There is also a story we tell about how when the Jews won, the first thing they did was clean the Temple in Jerusalem, which had been defiled by the Greeks.  They went to light the Eternal Light, but, alas, there was only enough for one day and it would take eight days for more oil to arrive.  They lit the lamp anyway, and miraculously, it stayed lit for the whole eight days.  Thank God, let's eat.  But first we light the Hanukkah menorah.  Once every night it sheds its sweet light to remind us of days long ago, as the song says.  That's why Hanukkah lasts for eight nights.

The traditional food for Hanukkah is potato pancakes,  (latkes) deep fried in oil.  In Israel, we are told, they eat donuts, also an oil rich food.  (Are you catching the theme here?)  We play with a little top called a dreidl.  We eat Hanukkah gelt, chocolates wrapped in foil to  look like coins. 

The one way that Hanukkah is like Christmas is that we give each other presents.  The children usually receive a present  on each night, although in some families, by the eighth night, the present might be underwear.  When the menorah is lit on the first night of Hanukkah, every toddler in America wants to sing "Happy Birthday to You" .  By the 9th night (i.e. when the holiday is over) every toddler cries when they no longer receive a present.

Tale #1

When I was growing up in a town where there were only two other Jewish families and I was the only Jewish child at my school, my parents thought it easier to go along with Christmas than not.  They especially didn't want to have to tell me that Santa Claus was make believe because they were afraid I would pass that information on to my friends.  They thought, rightly I expect, that the my friend's parents would not like it if their children were denied the pleasure of a little Christmas magic at too early an age.

We never had a Christmas tree, but I did get to sit on Santa's lap at the department store. I also hung a stocking by the fireplace, that would be filled with candy canes and a tangerine when I woke up. There would be a few wrapped presents, that I later learned, came from my great aunts.  It was good enough for me... until I was 5.

When I was 5, I must have noticed that my Christmases weren't like my friends'  and that my parents didn't seem to share the excitement or interest in Santa Claus that anyone else did.  "Is Santa real?" I asked my mother.  "What do you think?" she said.  "I think you give us the presents."  "Don't tell your friends," my mother said, and I didn't.

Tale #2

When I was a little older, I was living in a city with a small Jewish population and I had both Jewish and Christian friends.  One day a group of us were discussing what, and how much we received for our respective holidays.  We decided that it all came to about the same.  Whew.  What a relief.  This was America after all.  It was only fair.

The only thing I didn't like about Christmas when I was in grade school was that we had to sing Christmas carols.  If felt weird having to say "Christ our Lord."  He wasn't our Lord.  Not accepting him as our Lord was what got our grandparents in so much trouble that they had to leave Europe.  Oh well.  It was a small price to pay for otherwise being accepted on our own terms.

Tale # 3

When I was in college, Hanukkah usually fell before Christmas break so I didn't see my family for the holiday.  No big deal.  Hanukkah is a minor holiday and I wasn't terribly religious anyway.  I didn't miss it.  I knew a present or two would be waiting for me at home and I put aside a bit of my spending money to buy presents for my parents and my sister.

I didn't miss it, but when my friend and next door neighbor in the dorm told me she would be lighting candles with her boyfriend, I came to watch, standing just outside the door.  Robin didn't have a menorah but she did have candles.  Lots of them.  Fat ones, skinny ones, tall ones, short ones, plain ones, and multi-colored, sculpted ones that looked like they could have been in a museum.  She set them out on the deep window sill that normally served as storage space.  She lit them one by one, and they glowed and reflected in the window, just like they did at home.

Tale #4

When my husband,Josh, and I first lived together, it was with a group of single parents and their children.  Somebody got a Christmas tree (actually it was Josh - his former grandfather-in-law sold them) and set it up in the living room.  Somebody else had some lights and we all decorated it.  As Christmas approached, one person after another left to celebrate the holiday elsewhere.  Even Josh's daughter was away, as she always spent Christmas and Easter with her mother.  We got her on Passover, but that's another holiday.

By Christmas Eve, Josh and I were the only ones left in the house.  We went into the living room and sat watching the lights wink and blink at us.  Should we turn them off?  What were we doing here with a Christmas tree?  We were mesmerized, that's what.  We continued to watch the succession of red, blue, and green turn on and off and on and off and on and off....

Tale # 5

When our daughter was 2, she was in family day care with a Catholic family.  Right after Thanksgiving, Debbie started preparing for Christmas.  Out came the lights, and the manger scene, and 2 foot high Santa Claus doll that sat in a place of honor on a living room chair.  Arielle was afraid of that doll, but I think by the end of the month she was able to go near it without crying.

Debbie explained Christmas and Santa Claus to her as well as she could, I'm sure, but apparently she said to her, "I don't know if Santa Claus comes to your house because you are Jewish."  At least that's what we inferred when Arielle came home one day and asked, "Can Santa Claus come to my house even though I am Jewish?"

My husband tried to explain to her that Santa Claus wasn't real and that we would buy her presents for Hanukkah.  Arielle wouldn't hear of it.  "He is too, real.  He comes to J.J.'s house."  I quickly saw that this was not an argument worth having.  "Why don't we put up a stocking and see what happens," I said.  She was happy with that.

We actually had a felt Christmas stocking in the house that Melanie had left behind, so we hung it on Arielle's crib on Christmas eve.  The next morning she woke to find it filled with trinkets, holiday candy and a tangerine.  She was delighted.

We continued this tradition until our second child was about 5, and without any hints from us, they had both figured out who Santa Claus was in our house at any rate.  After that, the had to be satisfied with Hanukkah presents.

Tale #6

When my son was 2, he went to a very different kind of family daycare.  Linda knew all about the importance of multi-culturalism.  Linda wasn't going to offend the Jewish children in her care or their parents by ignoring their holiday.  Neither was she about to deprive the Christian children the opportunity to learn about the world they lived in.  So at Linda's house the children would spend one day celebrating Hanukkah and one day celebrating Christmas.

On the day of the Hanukkah party, when I came to pick up Evan in the evening, I found 5 little 2 year olds and Linda, sitting in a circle, playing with a dreidl.  Evan was off to the side playing with a truck.  "Evan, why aren't you playing dreidl with the other children?"  "I'm not Jewish," he said grumpily.  "You're not?"  "No."  "I don't know about that," I said.  As I expected, he still accepted a present from us that night.

Tale #7

The rabbi at our kids' religious school had an interesting experience as a child.  She told us that she knew all about Santa Claus, but understood that he only came to Christian children's houses.  She remembers being about 4 and trying to stay awake long enough to hear the sleigh bells and the touch of hooves against her neighbor's roof, and the sound of a fat, jolly man crying "Ho, ho, ho."  But she fell asleep too soon.

The school holds an adult discussion group at the end of every year called The December Dilemma.  Mixed religious families, in particular, have a lot to say at these times.

Tale #8

When the kids were about 6 and 9 we went to Disney World during Christmas vacation.  This involved getting up at 6:00 am on Christmas day to take a cab to the airport.  Our cab driver was a friendly man.  "So, was Santa good to you this morning?" he asked turning to the kids.

"No," they said.

"Oh, come on," he cajoled.  "Santa wouldn't forget two nice kids like you.  You must have gotten something."

"No, we didn't," they said.

The driver didn't understand.

"We're Jewish.  We don't celebrate Christmas," I finally explained.

The man's face fell.  "Oh, I'm terribly sorry.  I didn't know.  I never should have said that.  I didn't mean to offend." 

"No offense taken," I said.  "You had no way to know."

"I'm so sorry," he continued. 

"Don't worry about it," I said.  "We had a nice holiday of our own.  The kids got presents then."

The man continued to apologize.  He was beside himself.  He seemed to feel like he had forced us to admit to something terribly embarrassing.  He quieted down after awhile but started up again when we reached the airport.  I think Josh gave him an extra tip just to show that there were no hard feelings.

Tale #9

I love Christmas time.  I love the lights, and the parties, and the good cheer.  It's comforting to huddle together by the fire with others, so to speak, during the shortest days.  Some years we go to Christmas Revels: a Christmas/solstice celebration in the folk tradition.  We like to hear the wassailing songs and watch Old Father Christmas as much as anyone in the hall.  We even enjoy the few religious songs.  We have no problem with Christ their Lord, as long as it's sung in perfect harmony, as it always is.

There's just one part of the evening's entertainment that we find a little troublesome.  At the end of the first act the morris dancers perform.  I'm a morris dancer myself, and I especially enjoy seeing my people represented on the stage.  (My people being morris dancers, enactors of an old English tradition.)  At the end of the dance, the chorus sings Sidney Carter's Lord of the Dance.  It's a rousing, joyous song.  The chorus goes:

         Dance, then, wherever you may be,
         I am the Lord of the Dance, said he,
         And I'll lead you all, wherever you may be,
         And I'll lead you all in the Dance, said he.

It makes people want to dance, and they do.  Singing and clapping, the cast and audience follow the morris dancers down the aisles and into the lobby for intermission.

So what's wrong with that?  I'll tell you.  Here's part of one verse:

         I danced for the scribe
         And the Pharisee,
         But they would not dance
         And they wouldn't follow me.

The scribe and the Pharisee.  That's us.  The Jews.  The ones who for 2000 years were blamed for dancing to the beat of a different musician.  The ones who either left Europe when my grandparents did, or probably didn't have any grandchildren to remember them.  The song continues along in that vein, describing how they whipped, stripped, and crucified the Lord of the Dance. 

It's not that I think anybody is looking at us with accusing eyes as they sing.  I wouldn't attend if I thought they were.  I assume that most of the cast and the audience take the liberal Christian view that modern day equivalents of Jesus' deniers are the hypocrites who call themselve Christians but do not practice its tenets of love and generosity.  Even so, it feels like grade school all over again.  In some ways, worse.

Never-the-less, we file out into the lobby, clapping and swaying with everyone else.  I've never been one to sit out a dance.

Tale #10

.

My sister will be in town with her family tomorrow.  They come every year to celebrate Christmas with her husband's mother, who was raised Christian.  My Jewish brother-in-law grew up celebrating Christmas in a secular way, and now my sister and their two children do too.  Until recently, Granny always made a big Christmas dinner, and everyone sat around the tree opening presents.  Now Gran has decided that she's done her share of the hosting - it's someone else's turn.

Yesterday my sister called and said, "How about if instead of our going to a restaurant, we had a brunch at your house?  We can bring the bagels and cream cheese and white fish."

"Why not?" I said.  We didn't have any other plans.

So today we went shopping for foods to compliment my sister's contributions: lox, humous, some fruits and vegetables.  I bought three poinsettias and a potted rosemary plant grown to look like a miniature evergreen.  When I got it home I decorated it with a red ribbon.  Although Hanukkah was over last night, we will still have our electric menorah on display.  It's only fair.

As Josh and I were cleaning up tonight I turned to him and said, "maybe we should have bought some ham".  " Ham?" he said looking at me funny.  "You know, the sliced kind you get at the deli.  They eat ham on Christmas, don't they?"  "Ham??" he repeated.  I knew what he was thinking.  I knew what the rabbi would say.  But I get a kick thinking about Christmas in our house, with the faux tree and the menorah, and bagels and cream cheese with ham. 

Okay, maybe that is beyond the pale.