FAITHHACKER
| Christmas: The Jewish Kryptonite | |
 by Peter Bebergal, December 21, 2007
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For a time, Christmas felt like a kind of kryptonite, in all its various colors and effects. Christmas carols, lights, Santa Claus, and even the inexplicable Stollen,
produced in me various levels of discomfort, confusion, and even a
little misplaced nostalgia. I grew up a very secular Jew, and while we
acknowledged that Christmas had come and gone, like most Jews we
basically kept our heads down until it was all over. I watched the
surreal animated puppets in Santa Claus is Coming to Town
with the same hunger that any child watched the annual television show
that let him stay up late. I once even sat on Santa’s lap in the mall.
But even then I knew I was only a visitor in a foreign land. Santa was
a Christian, and his workshop didn’t employ any Jews.
Who needs a crackling fire on Christmas: When you've got the glow of neon?Over the
years I took on more Jewish observance, and surprisingly my
relationship to Christmas changed, even deepened. I looked forward to
Christmas Eve and Christmas Day as moments to define myself against
what I wasn’t. I sat in empty coffee shops, went to the movies with
friends, and had Chinese food. The cold air and the deserted streets
were glorious. I loved the lights in the trees and the darkened windows
of the stores. Christmas meant lovely isolation and I felt deeply
Jewish.
I would give my friends Christmas presents, but none of those people were really Christian. The obligation felt weird. If they didn’t believe Christ was really born on this day, why weren’t they all in Chinatown with me? My only devout Christian friend eschewed really owning anything. Whenever I gave him a gift he looked at it with the discomfort of a man struggling with a live fish He seemed to worry about it flopping on to the floor. I secretly hated his devout Christianity that was ruining Christmas. What else was I supposed to do for him on this day? There was no way I was going to eat Stollen.
Hanukkah, on the other hand, was always a letdown. The attempt to match Christmas in spirit seemed contrived. I would feel irritated when the local mall would put up the obligatory menorah next to the Christmas tree. I didn’t want Hanukkah to have to compete with Christmas. It couldn’t. What is winter without Christmas, without the blinking lights, without the giant plastic peppermint sticks covered in snow? Like this year, Hanukkah sometimes comes so early it doesn’t even feel like winter yet.
But then I married a gentile and everything changed.
My wife came from a family even more secular than my own. They never talk of God or Christ, and I have never heard them mention the Virgin Mary or the manger. But they celebrate with the fervor of postulants.
I grumbled my way through the first few years. I would read The Forward while they busied themselves with wrapping presents and keeping the fire going in the fireplace. I looked out of the corner of eye for any sign of a baby Jesus so I could leap up with an “Ah-Ha! I knew it!” Eventually Johnny Mathis and the smell of the tiny pine cones used in decorations got to me.
Take your holiday cheer: and stuff itWhat finally undid me, however, was the
joy they took in giving. Stockings stuffed to overflowing, the old
family photos lovingly framed, just the right sweater, all the perfect
books. I would have called it out as obsessive consumption and ugly
consumerism, but they always had wonderful things for me. (On Hanukkah,
my non-Jewish friends always gave me “Jewish” things, as if Hanukkah
presents are supposed to be about Hanukkah.)
As I began to embrace Christmas as part of my wife’s tradition I realized that Hanukkah was also special for me as a Jew. It’s just a coincidence that Hanukkah and Christmas fall around the same time of the year. My mistake was thinking that since Hanukkah is really a minor Jewish holiday and didn’t have anything about it that was distinctly seasonal, it wasn’t worth making a big deal about it. But Hanukkah is a Jewish day, and it marks, like so many other Jewish holidays, the sheer fortitude of the Jewish people. Over and over again we survive. Our lights keep burning, even when they are not as nearly as bright as my neighbor’s giant automaton reindeer.
And so for the last few years, Hanukah has been another time to mark being Jewish. In my home, we don’t celebrate the two holidays together, but go by where they land on the calendar. And secretly, I hope when I light the shamash and the first candle of the menorah that it will start to snow, and that it will be snowing all winter, especially when one year I take my family to Chinatown, and show them how Christmas is really done.
Who needs a crackling fire on Christmas: When you've got the glow of neon?Over the
years I took on more Jewish observance, and surprisingly my
relationship to Christmas changed, even deepened. I looked forward to
Christmas Eve and Christmas Day as moments to define myself against
what I wasn’t. I sat in empty coffee shops, went to the movies with
friends, and had Chinese food. The cold air and the deserted streets
were glorious. I loved the lights in the trees and the darkened windows
of the stores. Christmas meant lovely isolation and I felt deeply
Jewish.I would give my friends Christmas presents, but none of those people were really Christian. The obligation felt weird. If they didn’t believe Christ was really born on this day, why weren’t they all in Chinatown with me? My only devout Christian friend eschewed really owning anything. Whenever I gave him a gift he looked at it with the discomfort of a man struggling with a live fish He seemed to worry about it flopping on to the floor. I secretly hated his devout Christianity that was ruining Christmas. What else was I supposed to do for him on this day? There was no way I was going to eat Stollen.
Hanukkah, on the other hand, was always a letdown. The attempt to match Christmas in spirit seemed contrived. I would feel irritated when the local mall would put up the obligatory menorah next to the Christmas tree. I didn’t want Hanukkah to have to compete with Christmas. It couldn’t. What is winter without Christmas, without the blinking lights, without the giant plastic peppermint sticks covered in snow? Like this year, Hanukkah sometimes comes so early it doesn’t even feel like winter yet.
But then I married a gentile and everything changed.
My wife came from a family even more secular than my own. They never talk of God or Christ, and I have never heard them mention the Virgin Mary or the manger. But they celebrate with the fervor of postulants.
I grumbled my way through the first few years. I would read The Forward while they busied themselves with wrapping presents and keeping the fire going in the fireplace. I looked out of the corner of eye for any sign of a baby Jesus so I could leap up with an “Ah-Ha! I knew it!” Eventually Johnny Mathis and the smell of the tiny pine cones used in decorations got to me.
Take your holiday cheer: and stuff itWhat finally undid me, however, was the
joy they took in giving. Stockings stuffed to overflowing, the old
family photos lovingly framed, just the right sweater, all the perfect
books. I would have called it out as obsessive consumption and ugly
consumerism, but they always had wonderful things for me. (On Hanukkah,
my non-Jewish friends always gave me “Jewish” things, as if Hanukkah
presents are supposed to be about Hanukkah.)As I began to embrace Christmas as part of my wife’s tradition I realized that Hanukkah was also special for me as a Jew. It’s just a coincidence that Hanukkah and Christmas fall around the same time of the year. My mistake was thinking that since Hanukkah is really a minor Jewish holiday and didn’t have anything about it that was distinctly seasonal, it wasn’t worth making a big deal about it. But Hanukkah is a Jewish day, and it marks, like so many other Jewish holidays, the sheer fortitude of the Jewish people. Over and over again we survive. Our lights keep burning, even when they are not as nearly as bright as my neighbor’s giant automaton reindeer.
And so for the last few years, Hanukah has been another time to mark being Jewish. In my home, we don’t celebrate the two holidays together, but go by where they land on the calendar. And secretly, I hope when I light the shamash and the first candle of the menorah that it will start to snow, and that it will be snowing all winter, especially when one year I take my family to Chinatown, and show them how Christmas is really done.
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Bebergal is the coauthor, with Scott Korb, of The Faith Between Us. Peter is an editor for Zeek and is a frequent reviewer for The Believer, Boston Globe, and Jbooks. More... |
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Anonymous
Finishing
Finishing Hitler's job.
AmberPasternak
very brave, anonymous.
very brave, anonymous. there's not just one recipe for judaism. and the one recipe way of thinking is more dangerous to the future of judaism than interfaith marriages and the like. (it's alienating.) peter writes that he feels more connected to Judaism now. in my book that's a good thing.
Eema23
and the kids?
What will you teach your children? That a person can touch the surface of two or even more religions and avoid noticing the widely disparate meanings and underlying philosophies? That the obvious, menorah lighting is important but the underlying story of the Maccabees's resistance to assimilation is not?
Peter Bebergal
the kids
I always feel a little funny responding to one my of own essays, and I
certainly am not going to defend my life or my choices. But I will say
that as for "the kids," there is nothing I said in the post that would
suggest they would not get the underlying story of Hanukkah. There is
no theological tension because my wife's family is not religious. I readily admit that there is some
difficulty for me, though. Nevertheless, my son will be raised Jewish,
but I am not going to pretend that his mother doesn't have her own
traditions and rituals.
Steven Lee Beeber
Glad to hear your comment
I understand feeling awkward about replying to your own post, but I'm also glad that you did. The best thing about these posts is that they provide a forum for an exchange of ideas -- even those by (in my opinion) simplistic sorts who refuse to say more than a few disparaging, but completely inflammatory words, then creep back into the darkness without revealing themselves (yes Anonymous, I'm referring to you). I may or may not agree with your philosophies, Peter, but I utterly respect your courage to get out there and define them, both for yourself and us. Matters of observance are always complicated, especially when our loved ones are from different traditions. Good luck to you in the future. I'm sure you'll do well considering your honesty.
Anonymous
anonymous wrote
Finishing Hitlers job ? Man, it looks like with in you pal Hitler lives with your remark.. Finishing Hitlets job ? looks like Hitler taught you something. So join the KKK and preach your Jewish version of hate. silly kosher pig you, get a life and leave the man alone.
Strange how jews use Hitler to peer pressure other jews in their Taliban jew rasict menatlity..you may be a Talijew ay ?...kosher pig you ...marrryy xmasssss
anti-intermarriage
I agree with the first comments. The truth is the truth.
I find it amusing that Jews who intermarry still expect to have Jewish children. If their mother's not Jewish than under Halacha law their not Jewish. You can't expect a chilld to identify as a Jew if one of their parent's isn't. If you wanted Jewish children you should've have married a Jew.
The last commenator must be either retarded, drug-addict, or just a stupid anti-semitic jerk. Probably all three. I wouldn't bother wasting my time exlpaining to someone whose a mental case why it's important for the Jewish community pass on our traditions to our children. If you were a Jew you would understand.
Anonymous
Celebrate One or the other but not both
The belief that an intermarried family can celebrate both holidays without confusing the children is ridiculous. Typical Liberal multi-culturalism nonsense. If you want your children to have a strong jewish identity than raise them as Jews, send them for religious instruction and, Repeat, Do Not celebrate Christmas co-equally.
Recursive Prophet
Menachem's Seed seems to prevail, even when thinly spread.
It has been my conclusion, after many years observing the Ashkenazim, that much of the superior intelligence found in that gene pool seems to fare amazingly well interweaving with other groups. I would love to see a study-anyone?-on the achievements and IQ scores of individuals with half, quarter, and one eighth Ashkenazi DNA.
One of countless examples; the brightest student I encountered in 15 years working with the LAU school district, was the valdvictorian of the only highly gifted magnet. You need a 145 IQ minimum to get into the program. He later read Classical Languages at Harvard on a full scholarship. He was one eighth Ashkenazim. It got my attention and I began taking notice and questioning students I suspected were at least part Jewish. I discovered an disproportionate of those with even remote Jewish relatives were performing at advanced levels.
I don't pretend my informal little study proves anything, but believe the effects of Jewish 'outbreeding' are worthy of further investigation. If anyone here knows of any articles on this I may have missed, I would greatly appreciate your letting me know.
I apologize in advance to those who are offended by any suggestion of Ashkenazi genetic advantage. I fully understand why many Jews in particular might find such viewpoints problematic. If I shared that advantage, I would likely be reluctant to post my thoughts on a public forum as it would appear I was biased. I don't, and perhaps as an outsider have some slight edge in objectively analyzing the overall contribution by so small a segment of the world population. Truly never have so few, given so much, to so many.
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