Recently, while driving, my 4-year-old son asked me, “Are we Christmas people?” It caught me off guard. What does being a “Christmas person” even mean? This holiday season, my son has been captivated by Christmas. He eagerly points out every Christmas tree at the bank, exclaiming, “Look at the ornaments! Can we get presents, Mommy?” At home, we read The Polar Express before bed, and during our downtown walks, he stops to admire every cheerful display. “A Santa! Look, an elf! Amazing!” I try to share his excitement, but I gently remind him of the menorah peeking from a shop window. “Yes, a menorah,” he replies, “and there’s a reindeer!”
As I suppress a sigh, I explain, “Yes, we are Christmas people, but we’re also Hanukkah people.” I attempt to convey that our family is unique because we celebrate both holidays. It’s a complex discussion, and I worry I’ve confused him more than clarified. By the time we pull into our driveway, I feel overwhelmed. December has just started, and the thought of celebrating eight nights of Hanukkah followed by Christmas feels daunting.
The following week, I shared my conversation with my father. “I told him you only celebrated Hanukkah when you were my age.” He chuckled, “That’s not entirely accurate. I loved visiting Santa and seeing Christmas lights. How could we ignore Christmas? It was everywhere.” I was shocked. I couldn’t reconcile the image of my father on Santa’s lap with the cultural backdrop of his childhood, where Yiddish was the primary language.
I grew up blending both Christmas and Hanukkah traditions, thanks to my father, the Jewish boy who cherished Santa, marrying my mother, whose own upbringing was steeped in Lutheran customs. Their union likely surprised both families. Despite their strong backgrounds, my parents embraced a more secular approach. Each December, we joyfully celebrated both holidays, focusing more on cultural traditions rather than religious doctrines. We baked cookies and enjoyed latkes, immersing ourselves in the festive spirit.
However, as I matured, my Jewish identity became more pronounced. At seven, I asked to attend Hebrew school, and by thirteen, I celebrated my bat mitzvah. While I acknowledge my mixed heritage, I identify as Jewish when it comes to faith.
Now, as I raise my own diverse family with a non-Jewish husband, I often reflect on how to communicate our mixed identity to our children. I dislike labeling my kids as “one-quarter Jewish.” They are a blend of all aspects of their heritage, much like a cake that consists of various ingredients harmoniously coming together.
Of course, we celebrate Christmas. For my husband, it’s a cherished holiday filled with fond childhood memories. He wants to share that magic with our children, and I wholeheartedly support him. Personally, I still enjoy Christmas, focusing on the cultural elements and my Scandinavian roots. Decorating the tree and spending time with family brings me joy.
As a mother, I feel responsible for imparting Jewish traditions to my children. If I neglect this, they may not develop a connection to this vital part of their background. While my youngest daughter is too young to grasp the significance of the holidays, my son is ready to learn more about our dual celebrations.
Christmas is everywhere, and my son revels in its magic—the dazzling lights, the beautifully wrapped gifts. In contrast, Hanukkah often feels overshadowed, depicted with its simple blue symbols and a less exciting menorah. It’s the underdog holiday. Until now, I hadn’t realized my son might view Hanukkah as a mere footnote to the grand celebration of Christmas.
Thus, I’m embarking on a mission to make Hanukkah exciting for him. We’re baking colorful Hanukkah cupcakes and wrapping gifts in vibrant paper. I’ll let him light the menorah, despite the risks of handing fire to a 4-year-old. Most importantly, I’m sharing the story of Hanukkah—the tale of resilience against oppression and the miraculous events that followed. Like Christmas, Hanukkah is filled with its own magic and wonder.
Ultimately, regardless of which holidays we celebrate, it’s crucial to instill the core values and meanings behind these celebrations: miracles, generosity, family, and tradition. Everything else is secondary.
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Summary:
This article explores the journey of a mother raising a mixed-family celebrating both Christmas and Hanukkah. It discusses the importance of embracing both cultures while imparting the values of each holiday to her children. The author shares personal anecdotes and reflections on how to make Hanukkah exciting and relevant in a world dominated by Christmas festivities.