In a recent car ride, my 4-year-old son, Leo, posed an intriguing question: “Are we Christmas people?” This query struck me; what defines a “Christmas person”? This holiday season, Leo has been captivated by all things Christmas. At the local bank, he eagerly drags me toward the Christmas tree, exclaiming, “Look at the ornaments! Aren’t the presents amazing, Mommy?”
At home, his bedtime favorite is The Polar Express, and during our downtown strolls, each window display evokes gasps of wonder: “A Santa Claus! An elf! Wow!” I join in his enthusiasm, trying to spotlight the menorah tucked away in a store window. “Yes, that’s a menorah,” he acknowledges, “but look at the reindeer!”
Suppressing a sigh, I respond, “Yes, we are ‘Christmas people,’ but we also celebrate ‘Hanukkah.’” I attempt to explain our unique family heritage, noting that some relatives are Jewish while others observe Christmas. Our family is special for honoring both traditions. My explanation, however, likely left him more perplexed than enlightened. As we pull into the driveway, a feeling of inadequacy washes over me.
As December began, I felt overwhelmed. How would I manage to navigate eight nights of Hanukkah followed by Christmas? What was the significance? I later recounted this conversation to my father, “I told Leo that you only celebrated Hanukkah and never Christmas.”
“That’s not quite accurate,” he replied. “Growing up, I loved visiting Santa and enjoying Christmas lights and carols. Christmas was all around us.” His revelation astonished me. I could hardly fathom my father, as a Jewish child, sitting on Santa’s lap while being raised by a grandmother who spoke only Yiddish.
I was raised in a household that celebrated both Christmas and Hanukkah, thanks to my father—the Jewish boy who loved Santa—marrying my mother, whose own mother played the organ in a Lutheran church. Their union likely surprised their families, considering their strong religious backgrounds. Despite this, both parents embraced a more secular approach, focusing on cultural rather than religious aspects of the holidays. Instead of highlighting the nativity or the miraculous victory in the Hanukkah story, we reveled in latkes and baked Christmas cookies. As a child, I cherished both celebrations.
However, as I matured, my Jewish identity became more pronounced. At 7, I requested to attend Hebrew school, and by 13, I celebrated my bat mitzvah. While I acknowledge my mixed heritage, when asked about faith, I identify as Jewish.
Now, as a mother of a mixed family, my children are “one-quarter Jewish,” but that measurement feels inadequate. How can a person be just a fraction of something? We are a blend of all experiences, much like a cake is a harmonious mix of its ingredients.
Absolutely, we celebrate Christmas. For my husband, who is not Jewish, Christmas holds cherished childhood memories. He wishes to share that magic with our kids, and I wholeheartedly support him. I enjoy Christmas as well, connecting with my Scandinavian roots through traditions. Decorating the Christmas tree and spending time with loved ones brings me joy.
Nonetheless, I believe it is essential to teach my children about Jewish customs and beliefs. Without this knowledge, they may lack a connection to that aspect of their heritage. My daughter is too young to grasp the holidays, but my son is ready to learn about our family’s dual celebrations.
Christmas is everywhere, and Leo is entranced by it all—the twinkling lights, the gifts adorned with ribbons. Hanukkah often feels overshadowed, represented by its blue symbols and an unusual menorah. In contrast, Christmas dazzles with vibrant treats, while Hanukkah centers around fried potatoes. I’ve come to realize that many perceive Hanukkah as a mere prelude to the grand festivities of Christmas.
Determined to make Hanukkah more exciting for Leo, I’m on a mission. We’re baking festive Hanukkah cupcakes with colorful decorations, wrapping gifts in cheerful paper, and even allowing him to light his own menorah—though the thought of a 4-year-old handling fire is daunting. I’m also sharing the story of Hanukkah, highlighting how the oppressed rose to defend their way of life against a tyrant.
Through these efforts, I recognize that regardless of which holidays we observe, the essential lessons of miracles, generosity, and family traditions are what truly matter. The specifics are merely extra.
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In summary, as we navigate the holiday season, it’s clear that our family’s embrace of both Christmas and Hanukkah is about more than just celebration; it’s about instilling values of love, community, and heritage in our children.
Keyphrase: Celebrating Christmas and Hanukkah in a Mixed Family
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