A Jew Remembers Christmas

This year, I've been thinking about Christmas more than usual. My father died five months ago, and because he was only officially Jewish for the last ten years of his life our family celebrated a secular Christmas. For the last ten years, we were rarely together on Christmas Day but by phone, we'd fondly remember the stories of one of my father's favorite holidays of the year, telling stories of our childhood. Without him here, it feels like these stories won't be the same.

As a rabbi who works with interfaith couples, I often validate that Christmas has a lot of appeal because I know from my childhood how fun it can be with the various traditions and customs that exist. It seems everyone is getting ready to celebrate Christmas, there are lights and cookies and presents and music and--except at the mall--people seem to be happier than usual. For those who do not celebrate it, this time of year can feel isolating. And for those who, like me and my family for the last ten years and counting, no longer celebrate Christmas, there is a special type of nostalgia of knowing what we used to do, and making this day and season something different.

In that spirit, a few reflections of things I have come to realize about Christmas (and holiday traditions overall) that may be of particular interest to those feeling a little nostalgia or envy at this time of year:

Holiday traditions often transcend religion: The things that make a holiday special are rarely only religious in nature. Perhaps it is the friends who have become like our family (meaning they know how wacky we are but still share holidays with us!), the decorating of a house, the custom that becomes tradition that becomes ritual carries power. For example, we had the custom of a fancy Christmas Eve dinner at home. Each year on December 24, I often cook something a little fancy just because it's what we used to do--and is a family tradition, not a religious one. As we had close family friends with whom we used to always spend Christmas (and many a Thanksgiving too), I have made sure we have a tradition to getting together with close friends during Chanukah so our kids will also have a sense of tradition of being with friends, not just family.  In Judaism, with the many home rituals that accompany holidays, we have many ways to make holiday traditions through food and community.

A little anticipation goes a long way: I believe this year Costco had Christmas decorations in the store the same week as Yom Kippur. Whether one observes the advent or not, there is a sense of anticipation and preparation for December 25. I can remember the various stages of Christmas in my childhood: getting and decorating the tree (and protecting it from the cat), pulling the ugly holiday mugs down from storage and using them for a month, decorating the house, holiday concerts, playing carols at holiday parties (great money, by the way), shopping and wrapping, etc. It was fun and everyone was in it together. Let me assure you, we can create that same anticipation for almost any holiday.  As Jews, we also have our own preparatory periods. The month leading up to Rosh Hashanah is a time of spiritual reflection, and the month leading up to Passover is a time of cleaning, cooking, and yes, some spiritual reflection thrown in there too. While there is no religiously-prescribed Chanukah preparations, if we are looking to be in the "holiday spirit" we can create a sense of anticipation in our families in many parallel ways to those celebrating Christmas: decorating our homes (we put our Chanukah menorahs on display, and a few twinkle lights around the house--some of which also make an appearance in our sukkah in the fall), planning activities and extending invitations for Chanukah parties, and more.

Don't play the "Chanukah is just as cool" game: I actually believe that for interfaith families who have a Christmas celebration, whether at home or with extended family, this time of year can be easier because there isn't an envy of those celebrating Christmas. For those of us who don't have that, we might be tempted to try to make Chanukah as elaborate as what we perceive is happening around us. Yet, let's not play into that pressure. Chanukah is fundamentally about pride in being Jewish, miracles, rededication. On the list of holiday significance, it is far below many others such as our festivals and high holy days. Outside of the United States, Chanukah is much less of a deal and gift giving in particular is minimal.  Make Chanukah meaningful in its own right, not a competition. Remind our children that we have a lot of holidays that are opportunities for fun, food, family, and friends. Give them the tools to explain to those who are not part of the Jewish community what Chanukah is (and is not) so they feel empowered at this time of year. Do the traditions of Chanukah, but be cautious about appropriating things that are really just "Jewish Christmas" decorations. We have actually moved some of our gift giving to our children to other holidays to remove some of the pressure at this time of year.

Embrace the generosity of the season: The end-of-year charitable contribution season and the December holiday season are times where people are in a more giving spirit overall. This is a great way to bridge the divide between "Team Chanukah" and "Team Christmas" by volunteering, donating, and otherwise giving back to our communities and helping those in need.

Whatever this time of year means for you and your family, I hope that you have a meaningful and joyous holiday season. Remember that whatever you do this year can become the stories of years to come, and all of us have traditions, joy, and meaning to share.

There Are More Than Four Questions

My daughter is learning the Four Questions in pre-K in preparation for Passover. She is very excited about the upcoming holiday, eagerly singing songs like "Where is Baby Moses?" and "Frogs on Pharaoh's Head." Yet, there are clearly more than four question floating around for her. When she learned about a few of the plagues, she asked why the plagues happened to everyone when Pharaoh was the one who made bad choices. The next morning the question was how God didn't burn when God was in the burning bush. Then why Moses was in the river Nile.

To try to concretize some of the story, I showed her the movie "The Prince of Egypt." This film is beautifully done and helped facilitate some conversation around parts of the Passover and Exodus story. What the movie also did, though, is show the pain of the plagues as they were inflicted on the Egyptians. By the time the Israelites emerge on the other side of the Sea of Reeds watching Pharaoh's army drowning in the sea, one is left with a bittersweet feeling.

While I understand that we want to be age-appropriate with our children and help them to see the fun and joy in the festival of Passover, I would also encourage us to remember that we have a responsibility to be honest about the power and questions the story raises. Amidst plague masks and toys is a dark story of an entire nation being punished by Pharaoh's hardened heart, which is in part hardened to ensure the Israelites are clearly delivered by God, reminding us that freedom can come at a price. Amidst the songs and the foods is a deep question of what it means to be free in our time, not just in that Exodus story. I would offer that most children can find some degree of that understanding, and we as adults should push ourselves to reflect on the deep meanings and questions of this festival.

As we approach our family's seder, we are certainly focusing on the joys--the food, the family, the singing, and especially my daughter's "Four Questions" debut. And, we will encourage her to offer her many other questions along the way, because each of us at every age is supposed to find meaning in the seder, the story, and feel it applies to them.

As you approach your seder, may it be one of many questions, because that is how we learn, that is how we grow, and that is how we will continue to find meaning in this Festival of Passover, the time of our freedom and celebration.

The Family Seder

Some of my earliest Jewish memories are from Passover. I vaguely recall, as a very young child, watching Grandpa Hurwitz cough while eating horseradish root (or, because my  mother retells it to me, it feels like I was there). I remember learning the piano chords to the Four Questions and then proudly playing them at my Great Aunt Lenore's home when we all gathered for seder one year. I remember a seder at my Grandma Irene's home in Florida, dusting off the dishes she never used.

But most of all, I remember the seder as it usually was, in our home growing up. It was a remarkable blend of the intentional and the unintentional. Recipes were handed down, but not discussed with any fanfare. China was from my parents' wedding, but when we had more than 10 people, interspersed was my great-grandmother's china (a floral pattern my mother hated). After her death, we used my grandmother Julia's silver, which as a Ukranian Catholic she never could have envisioned happening at a seder, but we also had plenty of plastic forks and plates around. The haggadah was just the one we happened to have, one with a burned corner where a guest had accidentally set fire to it from one of the decorative votives on the table. The matzah cover was a horribly ugly blue felt creation from my brother's early religious school years that was somehow gorgeously meaningful in its weirdness. You get the idea.

We didn't think too hard about the actual content of the seder. We knew we'd do it all in some form or fashion, but there were never plague bags or gimmicks to make it flow. We'd read, each person in their turn, and then we'd eat. We'd talk some more, and then we'd go to bed. I recall the first year, as an aspiring rabbi, I was given the role of introducing the seder. I wrote a d'var Torah about the meaning of freedom (I wish I still had it now) and proudly set the stage for what the festival meant to me, and to us, in that space.

I believe it has been a decade since I have been in Pittsburgh for a seder. It's been years since the last family seder Micah and I experienced, in Las Vegas in 2008. Usually we spend Passover in a community we have created through our rabbinates. The first night usually at The Temple, the second night with couples whose weddings and conversions I officiate.

I find myself each year yearning to make our Passover authentic. Somehow the seven days pass so much faster than they did when I was younger. before we know it, we can eat bread again. I almost miss it by the end. Micah and I spend time talking about the seder, ways to make it creative, and in that way we find our authentic seder voice (one more scripted, one more spontaneous). I often feel we could do more in this festival, but that is an ongoing journey.

Now, with children of our own, we have another growing edge. We are taught about the Four Children: wise, wicked, simple, and unable to ask. We know that we are all of these children in some way.

In our daughter and son, we have these children looking at us in anticipation of being taught. It is no longer abstract. To our five year old's wise questions, we try to answer from our own faith and uncertainty. To our children's simple questions, we answer easily. To their wicked moments (of which there are few), we try to respond with compassion. And, for all that they are unable to ask, we model our own commitment.

When thinking about Passover this year, something in me yearned for a different experience. While I can tell you the practical reason we are traveling for Pesach this year is because we did not take vacation time at winter break, there is a spiritual reason. I knew, deep down, that we need to have a family seder. Our children need to make a memory that is organic, drawn from the deep connections that exist in a family, not just created by their rabbi parents and Temple community. They need to have the experience of learning that which is not always explictly spoken--that for some reason even the least religious of us are drawn to a ritual that has been handed down from generation to generation, that somehow we find a new meaning embedded in the parsley, matzah, and this year, Grandma's brisket.

I think about this weekend and am brought to tears by the image that our children will experience something powerful beyond words: a seder table filled with family members they already know well. Four generations will gather together and say that we are proudly Jewish and connected to our people, and say that we are lovingly connected to one another as well. In that moment, it does not matter what parts of the liturgy we do or forget, or what tunes we do, or whether things are like they are at home. What matters is that we come together and give ourselves the gift of a night to remember. 

A Reflection on Chanukah

(remarks I am making at services tonight):

It is tempting to think that Chanukah means something different for kids than it does for grownups. After all, we are older, wiser, more learned, and can read. My daughter is convinced that chocolate coins are a Chanukah ritual on par with lighting the candles.

Yes, as grown ups, we know that there are two stories—a story of miraculous military victory and a story of miraculously burning oil. We know that there are complicated notions of assimilation, oppression, and what it means to have religious freedom. We know that we are supposed to publicize the miracle, making this about lights (not about presents).

So, as we prepare for this Chanukah service, I would offer that even if our understanding of Chanukah is a little more evolved than the younger generation’s, both of us have something to learn from one another:

As we welcome this Shabbat of Chanukah, may we remember that as we have much to teach to our children, we also have much to learn from them.

When we light the candles, knowing that the story of the oil lasting for 8 nights came much later than the story of the military victory…may we remember that it doesn’t always matter which came first, which one is right, or whether it is true…sometimes the story is  a good story, and that’s enough.

When we bless miracles that happened then and now, may we remember with a child’s sense of wonder that miracles are present in our world if we look and define in the right way.

When we celebrate Chanukah amidst a predominantly Christmas-focused society, let’s not deceive ourselves into thinking that we outgrow the challenge of being a minority.

When we eat the latkes, the sufganiyot, the chocolate coins…let’s not talk about our diets just for a minute and instead pretend we have a child’s metabolism. And then take a walk.

When we give and receive gifts, let’s remember that while Chanukah is not really about presents, they’re fun and that’s okay at any age.

When we look at the Chanukah candles, glowing with increasing light each night, we pray that we increase in holiness, from childhood to adulthood, from year to year, from day to day. And let us remember that we can bring light to the world at any age and in so many ways. Let us never dismiss the smallest lights among us.

Let us remember that Chanukah is a time for pride, for freedom, for believing in miracles in those days and in ours. It isn’t that complicated, it isn’t that hard, and we have 8 days to try to get it right each year.  

Chocolate vs. Candles

This morning I found myself in a debate with my 3 1/2 year old daughter. When I said that Chanukah starts tomorrow evening and we'll have fun lighting candles and exchanging gifts, she said, "And eating chocolate coins." I said, "Well, we can do that too, but we're going to have so much fun playing dreidel and eating latkes," and she said, "And eating chocolate coins." In a last-ditch effort to emphasize the true meaning of Chanukah, I said, "The only thing we have to do is light the candles--the rest is just fun." And she replied, "But we have to eat chocolate coins."

At her Jewish preschool, and then at a Chanukah event at a Jewish day school, my daughter tasted chocolate coins. Now, it is abundantly clear that more than candles, latkes, and gifts, the true spirit of Chanukah can be expressed through chocolate.

This entire day I have been wrestling with that all-important parenting question: Why do I care? It is not the measure of my worth as a Jewish mother or rabbi whether my preschooler cares more about chocolate coins than lighting the candles. I have to trust that she will enjoy the aspects of the holiday as they unfold--candles, foods, gifts, programs with our Temple, dinners with friends. Chocolate coins will be just one part of a constellation of treats and joys during these eight days.

My answer, as best I can figure, is that I forget she is only 3. She speaks so clearly, seems to understand (or at least hear) so much, so I find myself surprised when she says something that is so clearly her age.

I could make this about me, or I could make this about her. This is probably the first Chanukah she will really remember--so I'm going to make it fun, special, and truly on her level. I imagine that if I make this a fun Chanukah for her, it will be my best Chanukah yet!

Now, you can be sure I am off to the store to buy some chocolate coins :-)

32 Ideas for Making Chanukah Meaningful and Fun

Last night, we had a program hosted by our interfaith committee entitled, "How-To Chanukah: Filling Eight Nights with Meaning and Fun." The reality is that all of us, whether we identify as interfaith or not, sometimes struggle to make eight nights interesting and to make the holiday more than candles, gifts, and fried food.

I find it helpful to remember that Chanukah does not need to be hours of celebration every night. For many of us, Chanukah is a 20-30 minute experience (if that). Keep in mind the idea of quality over quantity and remember that the minimum to fulfill the mitzvah is to light the Chanukiah each night.

Further, as much as possible, let's not get into the "Chanukah is just as good as Christmas" competition. Chanukah is not Jewish Christmas and if it were at a different time of year it probably would not be such a big deal in our communities. Instead, let's celebrate Chanukah for what it is. It is a holiday centered around the themes of miracles, light, dedication, Jewish pride, freedom...and oil. It is a holiday that allows us to participate in the broader society through gift-giving, donating, celebrating, and lights. It is one of the only holidays we can celebrate by ourselves in our homes if we so choose. Personally, I appreciate the flexibility of Chanukah. Each night, each year, I can make it what my family needs it to be. Some nights it is a "big deal," and some nights, it is just lighting candles and returning to the weekday joys of dinner, bath, and bedtime.

So, as we all start to think about what we want to do for eight nights of Chanukah this year, I offer you a list of 32 ideas (which could get you through the next four years) compiled at our program last night:

1.       Connect with friends or family (skype or facetime the candlelighting or make time for an extended conversation)

2.       Homemade gifts night

3.       Craft night (do a project, make decorations for your home, go paint pottery)

4.       Game night

5.       Volunteer

6.       Donate (go shopping for gifts for a child in need or spend time researching charitable organizations to make a donation)

7.       See some lights (your neighbors’ lights or more official displays)

8.       Go to a public Chanukiah lighting

9.       Have friends over for dinner

10.   Tell the Chanukah story or watch it on a movie

11.   Make a Chanukah music playlist (Adam Sandler, anyone?)

12.   See how many things you can fry (yes, that's a fried Oreo)

13.   Focus on Israel (give gifts made in Israel, eat Israeli food, etc)

14.   Do an act of social justice (find a rally or meeting around a cause important to you, write a letter to a legislator)

15.   Light some sparklers

16.   Movie Night

17.   Tasting Night (pick an item such as chocolate or wine and taste as many varieties as the night of Chanukah)

18.   Go for Chinese food

19.   Try making a Jewish food you’ve never tried or from a different part of the world

20.   Give Jewish gifts (items of Judaica, books, etc)

21.   Star Wars Night (because lightsabres fit with “festival of lights”)

22.   Pet night (give your pets a gift, and maybe a bath, too)

23.   Focus on your health (take a walk before lighting candles, do some kind of exercise)

24.   Build a Lego Chanukiah (but don’t light it)

25.   Do a “White Elephant” gift exchange with friends

26.   Attend a Chanukah dinner at your Temple

27.   Try making latkes, especially unique varieties

28.   Bring in takeout—you need a break from cooking!

29.   Have your kids “invite” a stuffed animal or doll for the candlelighting (but keep them away from the flames)

30.   Go through toys or clothes and donate items that aren’t being used in your home now

31.   Write a letter or a card to a friend or family member (because nothing replaces “real mail”)

32.   Arrange to spend a night of Chanukah with someone who doesn’t have family around or offer to drive someone to services during Chanukah who otherwise wouldn’t be able to attend

I hope that you and your loved ones have a very happy Chanukah!