My First Hanukkah, from the outside looking in....

A good friend of mine here in Boston, who is also a convert to Judaism, remembered her first Hanukkah. "It was hard," she recalled in a distant voice one usually reserves for recalling their first root canal. "It’s okay when the two holidays overlap or are really close on the calendar but when Hanukkah comes early in the month..."

At the time I simply nodded, with no real expectation or appreciation of what was to come. It’s kinda like trying to imagine what your first session of sex is going to be like from talking to your BFFs. You’ve heard things, some of which might actually be true. Then it happens. There are emotions you weren’t expecting. Maybe you were even hoping for love. You read the stories, see the pornos, and every now and then heard it was actually really painful for the first time...

I am thinking about all these things and more. Today is Thursday, December 16 - 9 tevet. My first Hanukkah has come and gone and was, like all the High Holy Days have been so far, a mix of wonder and intensity sprinkled with moments of introspection and yes, even fun.(This latter aspect I totally blame on my friends Molly and eeka, who never fail to remind me there’s always a reason to laugh at, and with, Life.) Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur were quite awesome in the literal meaning of the word. Simchot Torah found me literally dancing in the street with a Torah in hand - what was not to love?

My first Hanukkah was different. At first it was terribly confusing. I was told it was a home celebration, not a synagogue festival, yet my synagogue made sure to sing The Dreidel Song (not this version, though: South Park's Dreidel Song) during Shabbat services and brought in an Israeli jazz band for Oneg Shabbat. (Seeds of Sun, in case you were wondering. Seeds of Sun. As a closet jazz fan with a NY conceit I thought they were pretty sweet.) I was told it’s really not a gift-giving holiday, and yet my fave Judaica shop here in town (Kolbo) was having sales. I was told no one really sends cards yet there were Hanukkah cards on display. Should I send one to the rabbi who is guiding me through conversion? I got two hesitant affirmatives and one contemptuous no. As for that gift-giving thing, I read it’s only on the first night - no, the fifth evening - oh, wait, it’s every night? (Pretty good for a non-gift giving holy day.)
Irony abound, especially when I finally found out those eight days were in celebration not only for the miracle of the oil but as a visible symbol of resistance to assimilation. (More thoughts on both to follow.) I hung out with friends for a couple of those nights, sharing some gifts and spinning some Dreidel (eeka’s a total shark, by the way), losing my gelt and learning the Barenaked Ladies Hanukkah Blessing (Barenaked Ladies Hanukkah Blessing. The Leevees "Nun Gimmel Hei Shin" was pretty cool, too.

I caught sight of other candle lights in distant windows and didn’t feel so all alone, at least for eight days. At work I proudly put up a menorah and made time for the Campus Hillel group’s Hanukkah Dinner. For awhile there it was good and cool and even a bit righteous to be so visibly a Jew. (Of course it is every day, but during Hanukkah it’s a sweet celebration!)

And then, with the turn of a calendar day, it was over. The last candle burned down in the window and the dawn brought just another cold December morning to Boston. And that was okay. I was sad and that was okay, too. I think there’s a direct relationship between the more meaningful a ritual and the emotions lingering behind when it’s over.

But the holidays, I found, were not over yet. In fact, the shopping season was just getting into full swing. Colorful lights now adorned the majority of homes. Wreaths and trees tied to the tops of cars. Every other commercial spoke of "the" holidays to the sound of soft carols and warm kitchens. My roommate, who is a big fan of Yule, spent a recent weekend day camped in front of the television watching holiday specials. When I get off the T at night I hear Christmas songs reverberating around the neighborhood. All holiday specials, no matter how secular, eventually lead back to Christmas, Santa, reindear with red noses, miracles in mangers, a baby in swaddling clothes, ‘the-reason-for-the-season’. People who are unaware I am converting keep asking me what I am doing over the holidays. When I inform them I already celebrated mine they give me an er-um-ohhhhh sideways look and quickly end the discussion. Who knew being a Jew would be such a holiday buzzkill?

The funny thing is I have never been crazy about Christmas even when I did celebrate it. The pressure of gift-giving and meeting others’ expectations usually left me emotionally strung out. I did manage to glean some joy from Rudolph and The Grinch and, in my more warped moments, could appreciate hearing Ode to Joy in the background as Bruce Willis wrecked a skyscraper on Christmas Eve in the original ‘Die Hard’. (Ode to Joy - Die Hard)Then, when I was a practicing Pagan, I would light my candles on Solstice Eve to chase away the dark and celebrate the ever-so-slow return of light. As pagan rituals went, it always left my cheeks aglow. Unfortunately I often held this ritual alone or with only a few people. Large covens usually tend towards more dogmatic ambiences, in my opinion.

Yet, even with rituals as theologically different as the Solstice is from Christmas there is a strong philosophical connection between the two, mostly due to the Euro-Caucasian roots of both. Listen to Jethro Tull’s "Solstice Bells" if you don’t believe me. You might not find many Roman Catholic priests and Pagan priestesses agreeing on it but historically Christmas and the Winter Solstice are long lost cousins. Think about that the next time you’re tossing back your Wassail.

What this means is, the common holiday cheer has everything to do with celebrating Christian beliefs and nothing to do with Jewish ones, which leaves the Jews standing outside the cultural country club looking in. It is different and therefore treated as less-than and ‘other’. There is no widespread celebration or recognition of Hanukkah, no federal closings, no secular school closings, no Jewish holiday songs slipped into the rotation of your favorite rock radio station, no cultural connections being made between Jews and celebration. There are certainly no grand musical specials from Washington, D.C. as there are for Christmas. (I’m soooo glad there’s a separation between Church and State in this country - oh, wait...).

As I am finding out, if you follow Hanukkah instead of the state-sponsored holy day in this theocracy, well then baby, you’re just out of luck. The world will not stop for you and your beliefs, your neighborhood will not be rocking out to your holiday songs; the TV will not change its programming to reflect the meaning of your holy day; the radio will not be buzzing with The Maccabeats latest hit. Granted, the advantage is your holiday will not be commercialized to death; of course, the disadvantage is you will be buried in a cultural avalanche of overt and covert Christian propaganda that may or may not kill you. I exaggerate, of course, but some days (daze?) it feels like only by a little stretch.

Now I know I am neither the first convert nor Jew to foster this particular lament, nor will I be the last. But I am the person I know I am going to sleep with tonight and wake up to tomorrow morning so right now in this moment, my feelings matter. Being on the outside of the dominant culture’s religion I am being made keenly aware of its over-arching pressures and influences. It kinda feels like the first few days recovering from an addiction. There is relief and some sadness. There are moments of wondering what to do next, where to go next, what’s safe for my emotional well being and what is now disastrous.

Here’s what I know. I am finding my first year celebrating the Jewish calendar has been filled with both moments of unexpected joys and dislocations, of feeling embraced by community and of feeling stranded, adrift, impossibly alone. It’s a struggle I was warned about but could not fully appreciate until the conflicts began I do want to emphasize I harbor no ill will to any of my Catholic and Pagan friends and truly wish them all the best of holidays. But like so many others, perhaps even a few Catholics and Pagans amongst them, I cannot wait for this cloying season to pass.