I Never Had a Christmas Tree

The other day a friend asked me what little Jewish kids did at Christmas time if they didn't have a tree or didn't get any presents. He asked, hopefully, if we "did something else," probably referring to Chanukkah, a holiday my family never celebrated; we only celebrated the Jewish New Year and the Day of Atonement, the one "happy holiday," and the one dreary holiday when Jews are expected to atone for their sins and pray for the dead. As we lived in a largely Christian community, a small town with very few Jews, we didn't feel the need to observe the minor Jewish holidays. We did forgo bread for the eight days of Passover, but that was not a powerful religious observance for us. My parents seemed to trust that my sister, brother, and I were true believers in our religion, despite our scanty celebrations. Life among the gentiles was relatively easy for us, as we weren't burdened by their religious holidays and no large Jewish community was anywhere around to shame us into more orthodox observances.

In answering my friend's questions about what little Jewish kids did when they got no presents and no tree for Christmas, I told him that the only problem for me was when some well-meaning but insensitive second-grade teacher, a lovely motherly women, asked all the kids in the class after Christmas to tell her what presents they got. Before my turn came up, I made a mental list of all the things my parents and aunts had brought me during the year, and possibly even a few things that I had anyway, like clothes, books, and candy. In effect, I was lying, but I had to save face. I never mentioned it to my parents. They probably would have laughed anyway. Looking back, I feel bad for kids from poor families, but they probably lied also, because I don't recall anyone reducing the class to tears by admitting they got nothing or next to nothing.

The other little problem I had in the second grade was when the same teacher had us all singing Christmas carols. This was easier. I loved the songs, even to this day, I sing them to myself along with the radio, and sometimes even without the radio. I particularly recall singing, "Away in the Manger." When it came to the words, "...the little Lord Jesus laid down his sweet head," I sang it, but just omitted the name Jesus. I did mention this to my mother. She laughed, but admitted that her orthodox father would probably pass out if he heard me singing it, or even knew I sang Christmas carols. I still love Away in the Manger, and now I can even mention Jesus's name, even though I'm an atheist, but a Jewish atheist, which means I'm a Jew by tribal race, but a non-believer in the religious rituals.

I could tell that my friend felt sorry for me and other little Jewish kids who have no tree and no presents at Christmas. He's a Catholic and he, his wife and children always celebrate Christmas. In fact, he was on his way to Wal-mart to pick up last minute gifts and was calling me on his cell phone when his question came up, after I told him I was pleased that I never had to run around buying Christmas gifts. I was tempted to tease him and give him some frightening answers. I could have said, "That's probably why I have these severe emotional problems, especially around Christmas. I go into dark moods and plot foul crimes against people I don't like; I sometimes have bloody revenge fantasies in which I wear black and a hood that covers my face, and I kill chickens and small animals" . "Or I could've told him I ply myself with gin, smoke cigarettes, and binge on junk food until the holidays pass." But the truth is, at least in my case, I never missed having a tree or presents, because like most little Jewish children, we were informed early on that there is no Santa Claus (sob!),no elves (sob!) and the North Pole is just a frozen wasteland

The other upside about having no tree and no Christmas is that we never had to be disillusioned to learn that it was all a fairy tale, that there is no Santa Claus, and that the real meaning of Christmas is a celebration of the life of Jesus Christ, who was not part of our religious upbringing. Our parents did not have the burden of having to break the sad news to their innocent children that not only is there no Santa, but their parents lied to them.

Oh, well, I do believe a kind lie is worth more than a thousand cruel truths, and if the lies were part of the great Christmas spirit, of giving and forgiving, sharing and loving, it's O.K.
by me. I wish everyone a Merry Christmas when I meet them during the season, and I hope
they and their children have all the joys that Christmas brings.

Now I have to go out and kill off some chickens that have been keeping me awake nights. They belong to my neighbors, but they've been warned and now it's too late.

Sylvia

MERRY CHRISTMAS TO ALL!!

December 22, 2007