The weather has turned (California) cold. The distinct nip in the air and the sight of ski caps and umbrellas can only mean one thing: Santa Claus is coming to town.
Throughout my years of working in Jewish schools, we always referred to what the rest of the world calls the “holiday season” as the December Dilemma. In other words, we came up with lesson plans and learning activities that addressed the feelings and concerns of our students, who felt left out by not celebrating a festival that is utterly inescapable in the wider culture.
The other aspect of the December Dilemma curriculum involved reminding students that Chanukah is not a Jewish Christmas, reviewing with them the holiday’s origins and its various customs. I remember my students’ incredulous expressions when I explained to them that Chanukah gift-giving evolved as a way for American Jews to keep up with the Christmas-celebrating Joneses — and that Jewish children at one time were thrilled just to receive a couple of coins or nuts with which to play the dreidel game.
What I never really shared with my students was that for me there actually is no December Dilemma. My philosophy is, as long as you know where the limits are drawn (i.e., no church visits, no tree in the house, not even a “Chanukah bush”), then why not go kosher whole hog in enjoying the yuletide gaiety?
Our family keeps the celebration of Chanukah very bare bones, yet meaningful. We do all the traditional stuff such as lighting the candles, saying the blessings and singing songs, playing dreidel and eating greasy latkes and sufganiot. We don’t give our kids gifts other than chocolate and a bit of real gelt. For us, Chanukah has nothing to do with Christmas.
That frees me up to window shop the Christmas experience. The reluctant shopper that I am is elated not to have to subject myself to the hell of Christmas shopping. While others try to avoid being trampled at the mall, I, who have no stores to visit nor any obligation to rack up seasonal credit card debt, can leisurely soak in the festive atmosphere of twinkling light bulbs and cheerful decorations.
I am a complete sop when it comes to Christmas movies and music, especially the classics like “White Christmas,” “The Christmas Song” or my absolute favorite, “Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas” (I prefer Frank Sinatra’s rendition). The sounds of Noel are like a looping track in my head from Thanksgiving to New Year’s, at which point I am finished with my kosher Christmas for another year.
When I try to remember back to when I first drank the yule-aid, I recall: 1970s TV scenes of “A Charlie Brown Christmas” and “Frosty the Snowman.” But I think it was my reading and watching “The House Without a Christmas Tree” by Gail Rock that got me into the Christmas spirit. At least it was a piece of decent literature, rather than Hollywood kitsch, that got me hooked.
Obviously, anything religious about the holiday — say, midnight mass — is off-limits (OK, I will cop to having once watched it on TV when I was a kid and had a cold that made me too stuffed up to sleep).
The tannenbaum (fir tree), too, is verboten, its origins being pagan. That doesn’t mean that I don’t admire public ones, or even some in private homes — but preferably after Dec. 25, so that I can give it the ersatz name of “New Year’s tree,” as many Jews from the former Soviet Union do (a New Year’s tree is a tradition that dates back to Communist Russia).
Once Dec. 25 rolls around, I am pretty much Christmas-ed out and ready for the traditional Jewish observance of the day: Chinese food and a movie. This longstanding practice is evidenced by movie theaters and Chinese restaurants packed with Jews on the day that Jesus was born.
I am so pleased to see that this Jewish tradition, unlike some less entertaining and tasty minhagim (customs), is one that has successfully been transmitted to the younger generation. A guy named Brandon Walker even wrote a song about it and put it on YouTube.
My only question, though, is why so many of these types of videos by young Jewish artists have to feature negative Jewish stereotypes (such as someone bending down to pick up a coin) and hackneyed images (such as musicians dressed like Chassidic members of ZZ Top). Maybe it’s just the younger generation’s sensibility. In any case, the long beards are a nice Santa-esque touch.
Renee Ghert-Zand is a Jewish educator and writer who lives in Palo Alto. She writes a blog called “Truth, Praise and Help: Musings of a Gen X Yiddishe Mamme” (www.truthpraiseandhelp.word-press.com), where a version of this piece first appeared.