I'm a Jew....a lonely Jew...on Christmas
The venerable batyatoon posted an articulate and beautifully considered piece on the Chanukah vs. Christmas problem. The issue has been floating about in my mind for a while, as I've been dealing with this very issue at close range, now that Charlie is 4, and is now gaining a real understanding of the makings of our mixed family.
I've posted a response to her, and am including it inline, as I don't really know how to go about using a livejournal cut tag:
Well said, Batya. Christmas is so pervasive, that it's in my family too, for, as you know, my in-laws are not Jewish. And even they, with the best intentions, wish us a Happy Chanukah long after it's over. And it's with their best intentions, that they completely and lovingly include us and our children in their Christmas celebration.
I'm at peace with it, just as I'm at peace with the fact that the Happy Sukkot and Happy Shavuot are often missed. They don't mean harm or ignorance, and in fact, I need to give them more credit than I do. They try to remember the weird holidays that we have, despite how many of them there are and how they move around the calendar.
So what does it mean to us? It means that I have to make an extra effort to explain the meaning of the holidays - BOTH holidays - to my children. It also means that I do my best to make Charlie understand why it is that we are Jewish and why, although we may appreciate and help others celebrate Christian holidays, Christian holidays are not for us. It helps that he goes to a Jewish day school, but he won't forever.
It means that I make a point to take the menorahs down when Chanukah is over, even if that also means that our home is the dark one amidst a sea of lit houses.
But it doesn't mean that we have to exclude ourselves from the joy of others, especially with those who, more than anything in the world, want to share it with us. It means that I am grateful when my mother-in-law refrains from using the Chanukah wrapping paper under her Christmas tree. It means that although I am separate from Christmas, I can acknowledge it in peace and appreciate its beauty.
Charlie may ask for Christmas lights, but the lesson of taking down the Chanukah lamp when it's time is the sweet one. Maybe our battle against assimilation has been won if he understands that Christmas is the other, even if my mother in law celebrates Christmas and invites us and our children to the celebration. It's a beautiful thing, after all, to remember how good it is for all of us to dwell together in peace.
And filling Christmas stockings for them is darn good fun. This year we got them LED flashlight keychains in the shapes of animals. With sound effects.
Maybe one year they'll come to our seder.
I've posted a response to her, and am including it inline, as I don't really know how to go about using a livejournal cut tag:
Well said, Batya. Christmas is so pervasive, that it's in my family too, for, as you know, my in-laws are not Jewish. And even they, with the best intentions, wish us a Happy Chanukah long after it's over. And it's with their best intentions, that they completely and lovingly include us and our children in their Christmas celebration.
I'm at peace with it, just as I'm at peace with the fact that the Happy Sukkot and Happy Shavuot are often missed. They don't mean harm or ignorance, and in fact, I need to give them more credit than I do. They try to remember the weird holidays that we have, despite how many of them there are and how they move around the calendar.
So what does it mean to us? It means that I have to make an extra effort to explain the meaning of the holidays - BOTH holidays - to my children. It also means that I do my best to make Charlie understand why it is that we are Jewish and why, although we may appreciate and help others celebrate Christian holidays, Christian holidays are not for us. It helps that he goes to a Jewish day school, but he won't forever.
It means that I make a point to take the menorahs down when Chanukah is over, even if that also means that our home is the dark one amidst a sea of lit houses.
But it doesn't mean that we have to exclude ourselves from the joy of others, especially with those who, more than anything in the world, want to share it with us. It means that I am grateful when my mother-in-law refrains from using the Chanukah wrapping paper under her Christmas tree. It means that although I am separate from Christmas, I can acknowledge it in peace and appreciate its beauty.
Charlie may ask for Christmas lights, but the lesson of taking down the Chanukah lamp when it's time is the sweet one. Maybe our battle against assimilation has been won if he understands that Christmas is the other, even if my mother in law celebrates Christmas and invites us and our children to the celebration. It's a beautiful thing, after all, to remember how good it is for all of us to dwell together in peace.
And filling Christmas stockings for them is darn good fun. This year we got them LED flashlight keychains in the shapes of animals. With sound effects.
Maybe one year they'll come to our seder.