Happy/Merry Chris-makkah

I am positive about two things during the month of December:  there are way too many holidays and everything at every store is always 50% off the day after Christmas.  But let’s face it, the second one is much more important to me than figuring out what the hell myrrh is used for.   

Okay, seriously, here’s the short list of December holidays: Besides Christmas there is Kwanzaa, Festivus, The Hopi Soyaluna Ceremony, The Winter Solstice (which includes the Halcyon Days) (natural highs only please), Yalda, Holy Innocents Day, Boxing Day, and believe it or not National Chocolate Day.  Seriously, I did not make that last one up.  I personally celebrate that one about once a month…

I really don’t know that much about Kwanzaa but it seems to be similar to Hanukkah.  They have something that resembles a menorah and that’s all I know.  I have several students from Africa so I should probably learn about it.   Festivus was created by Jerry Seinfeld and I am sure his wife just steams cauliflower and hides it in their children’s food to celebrate the day.  The Winter Solstice has something to do with Stonehenge and Boxing Day is literally about boxes that were used to hold presents from Christmas that were filled up with charitable things to give to the poor so it’s basically a glorified re-gifting day.  Yalda is the celebrations of the birth of Mithra, the Persian Sun god and has something to do with pomegranates.  Why the people who make POM haven’t picked up on this holiday for a marketing campaign is beyond me.  And then, there is Hanukkah or Chanukkah.  The spelling varies but the story is about this cool guy named Judah and his brothers the Maccabees who held off the Syrians or the Lybians or some middle eastern sect who hated the Israelites and then there was a miracle with the oil and it lit the lights of the temple for eight days.  Or something like that.  It’s been a few years since I went to Saturday School.

Let’s face it, if it ain’t Christmas it is barely accepted in this country.  I don’t care how liberal, how democratic or how I-believe-the-whole-world-should-be-treated-equally you are.  Christmas rules and all of the other holidays drool. 

Sometimes this totally sucks.  For example, try being the only Jewish family in New Hope, Minnesota during the month of December.  There were no other Jews for miles and my parents were from The Bronx.  They had a totally different accent and had no freakin clue what a “hotdish” was.  The whole city drank “pop” while my parents drank “soda”.  It was a challenge for all of us.  However, I have to say having that half New York/half Minnesota upbringing worked out well (now that I can look back on it with a sense of humor and lots of therapy) and probably made me more interesting than the average Minnesotan.  Or the average bear, for that matter.

During the month of December, being the only Jewish students in our school, it came down to my sister and me to explain the story of Haanukkah or Chaanukkah to our peers.  There was no Google back then.  It all came from Saturday school for us which meant we actually had to listen to what our Saturday school teachers were saying.  Plus, we actually had to remember what they told us.  Seriously, that was just too much pressure.   Of course teaching the kids in my class to play dreidel was like teaching them to play craps.  They loved it.  I was like the Hanuukah or Chanuukah Bookie to some of them.  I really should have charged more than just chocolate coins...

Anyway, being the only Jewish family was confusing during this time of year for several reasons. Number one:  Hanukahh or Chanukahh was always being referred to as “the Jewish Christmas”.  This was as offensive as the phrase, “Funny, you don’t look Jewish.”  (I often respond to that phrase with “Funny, you don’t look ignorant.”)   It’s just that Haanukah or Chaanukah is so NOT the Jewish Christmas.  It’s about a miracle of light not a miracle of a baby without sex.  I used to love to remind my peers how Jesus was actually a Jew first before he became Christian.  Sometimes there was nothing more fun than going to my friends’ bible study classes and making sure I brought that up during the class.  I always loved the look of the Sunday school teacher who usually stood there perplexed and not knowing quite how to respond to that.   Bad little Jewish girl…

Number two:  Telling the sweet little Levine girls that only good Christian kids received presents on Christmas from Santa was like, the meanest thing you could possibly do to a kid.  Wasn’t I good?  Hadn’t I been good all year?  I mean, before I was a rebellious teenager who thought Madonna was the role model I should follow.  When I was five or six years old all I wanted was a tree that was all sparkly and pretty and a red felt stocking with presents in it.  Jeepers, I was a good kid.  Didn’t Santa like Jewish kids?  What was his problem anyway? 

Ya see, at five, we didn’t equate religion with Santa.  I knew I was a different religion from all of my school chums, but was I really so different?  Seriously!  Good kid here!  I didn’t understand any of it.  Was Santa just mean or did he not know there were Jewish kids who believed in him too?  I decided to take matters into my own hands and write Santa a letter one year and tell him this.  I told my mom afterwards what I had done and she pretty much had no choice but to make sure my heart wouldn’t be broken.   So, being the emotionally supportive parents that they were, they opted for “holiday stockings” for Christmas morning.  We put out cookies and milk the night before and of course a few carrots for the reindeer.  Every year I told my parents I could see reindeer tracks in the snow.  And even though we didn’t even have a chimney, I believed in my heart that Santa knew I was a good kid who just wanted a few toys and like, a Pez dispenser in the shape of a snowman.  This made me happy and validated the way only a fat, white-haired, red-suited man could do.  I have wondered since if it made my parents uncomfortable…hmmm…ah, who cares, there was Pez.

The irony of the two holidays was the myth of the Jewish kids collecting eight presents for the eight nights of Haannuukkaah or Chaannuukkaahh when really, we got like, two really cool presents the first two nights and then socks and jammies and school supplies for the last six nights.  Yep, nothing says a present like Wonder Woman underwear. 

The sparkly and pretty tree was not going to happen in our house, no matter how much I wanted one.  Luckily, when I was in high school, my friend Chris let me come over and decorate her family’s Christmas tree.  I was in Jewish girl heaven.  They let me put on almost all of the ornaments and string the lights.  I can still hear the Carpenters’ singing Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas.  It was the 1980’s so back then I wore really huge earrings (usually one at a time) and I remember I was wearing this silly red Transformer earring that was huge so we hung it on the tree as a joke.  Apparently, to this day they still hang it on their tree every year.  Thank goodness for Facebook or I would never have known they still did that.  Ah, technology.

Today, my kids are half Jewish and half um, not-Jewish.  So we have half of a tree decorated in blue and white (Hanukahh or Chanukahh colors) with little white lights.  We name him Toby the Hannamas Tree every year and we have our Menorah right next to the tree.  Of course not too close because that would be a fire hazard.

I am still optimistically confused this December.  I am still unclear on the Kwanzaa origins, the connection between the Winter Solstice and global warming and have no idea how Santa fits in with Jesus (the whole bunnies and Jesus rising from his grave on Easter baffles me as well).  I do know that there is magic in all of the holidays.  I see it in my children’s faces and not just when they open their presents either.  I have Santa on Facebook and as much as I like to threaten them with Santa (“eat the damn broccoli or I’m I.M.ing Santa”) having them read Mr and Mrs Claus’s status updates is a wonderful way to start our mornings. They count down the days, draw pictures and sing songs and I sing right along with them because I still like to believe in the magic of the holidays.  Christmas or Hanukah or Chanukah who cares, it's all about family and wonderment.  Being rich in friends and not in gifts.  Seriously, do you know one person who can watch It's a Wonderful Life without tearing up?  Unless of course it's the colorized version.

My kids will be with their dad on Christmas so I will be celebrating the traditional Jewish Christmas which involves a day of movies followed by Chinese food.  Ask any Jew and they will probably tell you the same thing.

Happy Holidays.