I’m Jewish. Here’s What I Feel About Christmas
When I was six years old, my mother finally gave in to my long-held wish of visiting Santa. We made the trek into the city centre, and rode the elevator to the top floor of Myer department store. There Santa sat, and I climbed onto his lap as he ho-ho-ho’d and asked me what I want for Christmas. “A creamy-coloured Labrador,” I replied instantly, because that’s all I ever wanted. “What do you think, Mum?” Santa asked. I’m not sure if she rolled her eyes but she said something non-committal, added that we weren’t interested in a photo and left.
Should I have told you earlier that I am Jewish?
Raised in a fairly observant Jewish household, where we had weekly Sabbath meals, refused pork and seafood and knew the rabbi well enough that we occasionally paid him a visit at his home, my childhood dream was nevertheless to celebrate Christmas. I longed for a tree, with beribboned gifts at its foot. When December rolled around, I watched holiday movies and thought enviously of all the Christian children getting Labradors. Of course, We had our own Jewish holiday in December, but no Jew is going to flag Chanukah as a festive highlight. Sure, it lasts for eight days, but the theme is oil – I kid you not – so you eat oily foods, such as doughnuts and fried potato pancakes. There’s no guy in a red suit and presents under the tree, just plenty of heartburn.
I didn’t get into any kind of Christmas spirit until I moved to New York in my 20s. In Australia, Christmas was always something I was a little removed from: I saw the decorations in the streets and played Secret Santa for office colleagues, but it didn’t seem like something that was aimed at me. In New York, though, Christmas was everyone’s holiday. Walking through the cold, snowy streets, the sights, sounds and smells of the holiday invaded every sense. Bells would jingle, coffee houses would serve up steaming apple cider that overpowered even the smell of java, while the aroma of pine-scented everything could be detected in people’s homes, shop fronts and sidewalks.
“When I asked my friend Anne what the deal was with her Christmas mania – I knew she wasn’t religious – her answer surprised me. ”
I loved it, but for all the non-denominational “season’s greetings” and “happy holidays”, it still felt like somebody else’s celebration. There was one time when I realised that Hindus, Muslims and Buddhists might feel the way I do, when my then-boss gave me a massive ham for my Christmas bonus. Since I didn’t eat ham, I tried to find someone who’d appreciate the re-gift. It was 5pm on Christmas Eve; everyone had their food sorted. I figured that a homeless person might want it, but they were housed in shelters for a night. When I finally found a man busking in the subway, I used my most benevolent voice as I handed him the ham and said, “Merry Christmas, sir!” “Uh, I’m Muslim, I don’t eat ham,” he replied.
And then I made a new friend, Anne. Anne is the kind of person whose Christmas fervour borders on, well, the religious. But her religion is Making Sure You Know It’s Christmas. She has various Christmas costumes that she rotates for her holiday parties: Santa’s Workshop Elf, Mrs Claus and Sexy Mrs Claus. (Believe me, the last two are very different from each other.) For all of December, she somehow manages to tuck away everything in her house that isn’t aggressively red or green. She once spent a day following a YouTube tutorial to learn how to turn sugar into a clear dome in order to make a dessert that resembled a snow globe.
When I first met her, this Christmas enthusiasm was notable for being the one thing we did not share. In many ways, we were so alike – we listened to the same music, enjoyed getting scared by horror movies and had a great love for funny traditions, theme dressing and anything retro. But when I asked Anne what the deal was with her Christmas mania – I knew she wasn’t religious – her answer surprised me.
“Christmas, to me, is about hope,” she said. “The root of it is to be reminded to be hopeful. That good things are coming. That we should love one another. It’s what Dr Seuss was getting at in How The Grinch Stole Christmas. It’s the song inside our hearts.”
It didn’t hurt that many of her favourite pop culture references had some kind of Christmas theme, including movies such as It’s A Wonderful Life and A Christmas Carol. “For me, it isn’t a Christian holiday. It’s for everyone. What makes Christmas wonderful is that we all believe in magic again. In December, we all get in touch with the child in ourselves. For a little while, we’re all children again. I don’t ever want to lose that.”
Words_ Rachelle Unreich
Photo_ Tessa Wilson/Unsplash