Jewish for the Holidays

by Claire Rosenberg, Staff Writer

January 5, 2011

I avoid the malls during the month of December. While the thought of dealing with the crowds and inflated holiday pricing doesn’t thrill me, there’s one reason in particular that I keep my distance; the music. If I have to listen to Mariah Carey inform me that All I want for Christmas is You while picking out a new sweater once more, I may just…well you can simply call me a scrooge now if you must. I have nothing against people’s enjoyment of the holiday atmosphere…families deriving joy from group meals, music, and gifts is among life’s true blessings, and I love sharing my Chanukah traditions as well. Unfortunately, I’ve reached a point at which I feel I’m being pushed and pulled into a yuletide abyss, the edge of which I’m holding on to for dear life.

Sharing holidays is one thing, but being forced to partake feels like quite another. The trend these days is to create new all-inclusive onjunctions... ”merry Christmika” or “happy christmakwanizika” for example, depending on how inclusive we’re feeling. Simultaneously discouraging the notion that these celebrations aren’t actually related beyond their shared season. It’s one thing when Chanukah and Christmas overlap, but this year we celebrated the Maccabees victory the first week of December, and it seemed once Christmas came along and latkes were but a fading memory, I was expected to adopt the December 25th holiday as well; since after all, it seems all the other Jews are doing it…or are they?

I spent the last week of December with my brothers on the West Coast this year, and although the shopping areas were mobbed, the Christmas season didn’t seem quite as pervasive as it does on the East Coast, perhaps because they lacked the obligatory coating of snow like I’m used to this time of year. Another component may have been the obvious plethora of lifestyle choices in the Pacific Northwest, where it seems they often take tradition a bit less seriously. I recently admitted to believing Christmas was on a different date every year, much like the Jewish holidays until I was 16 or 17 years old, and my friends were astonished…yet I find it of more concern that all the children in my religious school class know Christmas is December 25th without question, yet had no idea when Chanukah began. While this reality is of concern, I can hardly feign surprise that the students know when Christmas occurs; after all the culture and society in which we live centers the entire winter season around it. Conversely, Chanukah can pass without notice unless one lives near the obligatory 8 foot Chabad-erected Menorah in any moderately sized town.

While America is often touted as the most welcoming nation in the world, and was settled by those seeking religious freedom, I feel that is a goal towards which we are actually still reaching. Post 9-11, it is more difficult than ever to be an American Muslim, and the move to use phrases such as “Happy Holidays” have launched a multitude of protests and bumper stickers declaring that ‘I say Merry Christmas”. The official message seems to be that we are welcome to keep our traditions, so long as we don’t forget where we stand in the line-up.

Television networks do include a menorah in their “Happy Holidays” graphic card, but I have yet to see a telecast of a menorah lighting similar to that of the Rockefeller tree. The President wishes us all a “Season’s Greetings” but also releases a separate “Merry Christmas” message to the nation, a tradition I doubt will change even when/if this nation elects its first Jewish President, although I hope to be proven wrong.  Particularly memorable to me, was a holiday season when the in-town Chabad requested to place their lighted outdoor menorah in front of the local town hall.  The request was turned down, and the town’s official response was that “the lit trees are meant to celebrate everyone’s holiday”, which seemed to sit well with many of the town residents. Granted, Chanukah is much newer than most of the Jewish holidays, and has changed a lot to accommodate other’s season traditions (for instance, the giving of gifts) but I don’t recall any tradition of lighted trees in the holiday’s lineage. This seems to be a case of “If it’s good for the goose; it’s good for the gander” a simplified version of the holiday dialogue. If we are so adamant that all celebrations be equal in this country, why not a lit tree, menorah and Kinara (the lighted candelabra used to celebrate Kwanzaa) in the town center?  Are we afraid of heading down a slippery slope that will lead to requests for a Chinese New Year Dragon and Winter Solstice Alter as well? And if so, what do we fear will occur if town officials responds that “we need to draw a line in the sand somewhere” as opposed to asserting that strands of lights on the trees represent all of us. Will we lose our reputation as a “successful” melting pot?

I recognize my fortune to be raised in a nation where I am free to practice my own traditions in peace, and also appreciate the efforts made in a country where less than 2 percent of the population is Jewish, but we are quite obviously a minority, and there are times during the season when I find that difficult.  Even among Jews, I often seem among a minority not celebrating both. Often the options seem to be between withdrawing for an entire month of the year, or joining in with the Yule festivities and admitting personal defeat, as much of the American Jewish community seems to already have done.

This is not simply about Christmas though, since it is a holiday season which we have just exited, and Christmas leads right into New Year’s Eve, an event for revelry like no other. The Gregorian calendar is an international business standard, and so it would seem apparent that this is the unifying event of the holiday season, a time when we can all come together in celebration of the New Year we’ll share, and collectively create resolutions to forget over the coming weeks. This premise gives me a sense of dejá vu though, possibly because I was engaged in it during Rosh Hashana…the fairly recent induction of the Jewish New Year. Ask anyone celebrating the Chinese New Year which begins on February 3, 2011, and they will tell you that their year-end resolution-making begins then, and not with the televised events we just experienced.

I am very aware of my word choice in this season, and in concern for others who may share my “minority” status, I always wish people I encounter a “Happy Holiday” unless there is an obvious clue as to their identity, such as a cross or David star on their neck. My wrapping paper is decidedly generic for all gift recipients, as are any cards I send, but I don’t avoid my friend’s Christmas parties or locations with Christmas trees. People who send me cards with Santa Clause on them are in no way ostracized, even if they are aware of my religion, and I don’t send them back a glittering menorah covered note as retribution, choosing simply to appreciate the thought for what it is…a friend thinking of me and showing that they care in a crazy season.

I’ve had a lot of time recently to consider the off-setting effect the holiday season in America can have on my psyche, and I’ve come to the realization that it is because it brings to the fore something less evident January through November: That I am a minority here. Jews will always make up fewer than 2% of Americans (assuming you live outside of New York City) but the vast majority of the time, I feel on equal footing with the population. It is only when fir trees appear on every corner, radio stations and shopping centers play nothing but Christmas music, and every television network schedules an entire month of Christmas movies, that I feel so outnumbered, and as though my traditions are truly insignificant. I’ve spent one Chanukah in Israel, and it was the first time I’d experienced an entire society selling and eating sufganiyot (Jelly filled donuts), latkes, and enjoying Chanukah concerts in central locations, an entirely new experience for me. December has always highlighted to an extent how much I am a part of the fringe element, and being a part of the majority in Israel has made it difficult to enjoy the season and holiday to its fullest anywhere else.

Claire Rosenberg is a Jewish semi-professional living in Connecticut, where she teaches, writes, does yoga, and runs the occasional 5k. She spends the majority of her time these days applying to Masters Programs in Israel and creating recipes to post on her vegetarian food blog, www.bokchoybohemia.com. She is also a regular contributor to the New Vilna Review.

Copyright Claire Rosenberg/The New Vilna Review 2011.