I’m over my problem with Christmas.
But for years, it drove me crazy. Perfect strangers would annoy me with
their chirpy exclamations of “Merry Christmas!” Even worse was when acquantances — who should have known better! — hurled the cheer my way, or would ask in a concerned voice, “Have you done your Christmas shopping yet?”
Well, of course I hadn’t, I’d silently snarl. And bah humbug to you, too. Don’t you know I celebrate Chanukah?
As a child, I loved the snow and decorated trees the season brought, and especially enjoyed going to my grandparents’ general store to help ring the cash register and restock shelves with socks, gloves and whatnot.
As a young adult, I couldn’t have cared less about Christmas; I was having too much fun. And after I married and my children were born, I mostly focused on family Chanukah celebrations, hoping to instill traditions in our home.
But for reasons I’m still not sure of, Christmas malcontent plagued me throughout the 1990s and into this decade.
To release steam, I’d commiserate with an equally incensed Jewish friend. Or, better yet, I’d imagine speaking out for all of us forgotten Jews by penning a measured screed in “My Turn,” the first-person column at the front of Newsweek. Maybe then, finally, the masses would understand.
I mean, even the most ardent fans of Christmas have to admit it’s a tad overdone in this country. And though I’m all for keeping the U.S. economy robust, it was bad enough when the media and advertising blitz started the day after Thanksgiving. Now the campaign begins right after Halloween. Next thing you know, the reindeer will be trotting out after Labor Day.
But, like the scathing letters my diehard Raiders fan husband never wrote to Bay Area sports columnists who dissed his team, I never actually expressed my rage in writing. Not worth the effort.
And then, almost miraculously, my anger lifted. Don’t ask my why.
It might have something to do with working at j., where we seem to live and breathe Judaism without even thinking about it.
Countering all the Christmas hoopla, here at j. I learn about all the public menorah lightings, Chanukah parties and other holiday events. This provides a bit of balance, at least. Otherwise, here in the Bay Area — where Jews are so intermixed and intermingled — we tend to melt into the landscape.
That’s a huge contrast to where I grew up, a suburban metropolitan area back East that was 99 percent Jewish. Everyone I knew celebrated Chanukah, not Christmas.
And yet, I’d had enough of my homogenous hometown by the time I reached high school.
My Christmas gripes are not unique, by the way. Nor, it appears, is my grudging acceptance of the holiday.
Rabbi George Schlesinger of Conservative Congregation Beth Ami in Santa Rosa (one county north of my home), suggests that for the most part “people have kind of come to terms” with Christmas.
“Actually,” he adds, “some of the kids will come to me and say, ‘I’m tired of being wished a merry Christmas. I’m Jewish!'”
He adds: “Here in Sonoma County, where we’re so few and [Christmas] is everywhere, I think there’s this sort of acceptance — OK, we’re different — they’ll do their thing” and we’ll do ours. This attitude is shared by Jews in other Bay Area counties as well, he believes.
When he was a congregational rabbi on the East Coast, Schlesinger says, the “December dilemma” issue came up more frequently, often heatedly so.
For families who feel pulled into two directions, and Jewish children who feel they are “on the outside looking in, with their noses pressed against the glass,” the rabbi has some advice: Live a Jewish year. Be observant and enjoy the holidays throughout the year.
As for me, I can’t honestly call myself “observant.” Even so, I try to keep religious tenets in mind, especially when it comes to community service and goodwill toward others.
And I think I’ve finally gotten it that those wishing everyone a “Merry Christmas” mean no harm. They’re just in good spirits, trying to spread the cheer.
Liz Harris is assignment editor at j. She can be reached at [email protected].