I must confess. I'm Jewish and I love Christmas.
But this has not always been so. When I was little the festive season caused me great angst. It felt like butterflies in my tummy. As soon as the stores had cleared their Halloween wares, merchants would stock shelves with boughs of holly, jolly Santas and jingle bells. By December first, TV ads, home decorations and mall music took on Yuletide themes. But none of it spoke to me.
Being a Jewish girl in a Christmas world
I lived in Montreal and attended Protestant school. I didn't understand why my friends' faces would become all aglow when they talked about Christmas. And what was this secret "wish list" they had written and re-written, wearing down their best crayons? Instead of playing skipping at recess my girlfriends formed little huddles and tried to outdo each other on the height of their tree or the size of Grandma's turkey. The best I could do was to spin a colourful dreidel or two and share my foil-wrapped chocolate Chanukah "gelt." My holiday rituals did not hold a menorah to theirs.
I told my parents how I felt and they empathized -- they had grown up here, too. In a bold move, one Christmas Eve, I hung a woollen sock from my doorknob. I awoke to find candy canes, tiny toys and trinkets inside.
Embracing the holidays
In grade five, as a school choir member, I sang out loudly seasonal hymns and carols and was thrilled when I was selected to perform the solo for the Christmas pageant finale -- the exquisite "O Holy Night." I looked down at the audience and saw my family, including my grandmother, clapping loudly. I interpreted this as a green light to fully embrace Christmas.
