The Festival of Lights

The Christmas shopping season started as early as August in some stores I frequent-- I recall snapping a photo on my phone of an entire aisle of Christmas decor at the local Hobby Lobby, lamenting the creeping of the shopping frenzy even earlier into the year.  Black Friday came, and the yearly "tradition" of crazed deal seekers engaged in wonton mob mentality resulted in subsequent headlines of pepper sprayed crowds, injuries during stampedes, robberies, theft and more.  Even after, the heavy traffic and long lines bring out the worst in folks and tempers are short, and manners forgotten--all set to a tune of constant pop remakes of assorted Christmas songs at play in most establishments.  A few months of this really can make a Jewish girl cringe.  I sympathize with those Christians who call for a return to spirituality during the season, hoping to pull their principal holiday from the extreme commercialism with which it has become associated.

My DIY wintery Chanukah tablescape--slate sheets

taken from the river, upcycled baby food jars painted 

with glue and rolled in epsom salt "snow" to make tea light 

holders, painted popsicle stick Star of David candleholder 

base, sprigs of pine boughs lightly "frosted" with white

spray paint, and cinnamon scented pine cones all set 

atop a white sheet of butcher block craft paper.  

Both my husband and I grew up in households that were generically "Christian" in the sense they espoused Judeo-Christian ethics and nominally celebrated standard Christian holidays, albeit in a secular fashion.  "Christmas" meant digging the artificial tree out of the crawlspace, pulling down musty-smelling boxes of decorations, getting into more than one argument associated with the decorating process, frigid cold fingers and noses spent attaching the once-tangled multi-colored strands of lights to the awnings and large outdoor trees and shopping for, wrapping up, and (finally!) opening presents.  It entailed no formal church services nor at-home discussions of anything biblical in nature.  

The irony of the celebration of holy days completely devoid of any spiritual significance whatsoever was not lost on me.  After much exploration and research, I ended up seeking something more spiritually rewarding which could also mesh with my philosophical beliefs, and converted to Judaism at the tail end of my undergraduate studies (alas, that is a story meant for another post).  With this transition came new holy days and with them, the opportunity to develop my own traditions. 

As with many young families, about the time children arrive into the mix, the sense that holidays should be celebrated "for real" seems emergent.  If we were lazy as single adults about getting into a festive spirit, the presence of children inspires us to create wonder and excitement around our holidays, as well as to reflect on how we should best model the spirituality of our chosen beliefs.  My husband is concerned that Jewish holidays just aren't as "cool" as Christian festivities when it comes to big decorations, cartoon movies, the Santa lore, the gift-giving bonanza, and the like.  He worries it will be a buzzkill for her when she is in school and her little classmates are giddy about writing to Santa, working on their wish lists for months in advance, Christmas cookies and parties.  What he's describing is missing out on the secular "Christmas" festivities.  My opinion is that such is a blessing--not to have your special days corrupted by massive consumerism and derailed from their intended meanings. But I get what he means: how do you get your children excited about such holidays without all the associated, if off-message, content?

Our Menorah in the warm glow of some tea 

lights on the tablescape. 

I don't have the answer to that question, and as we grow and mature as a family, our concept of our holiday traditions will undoubtedly grow too.  Chanukah is not a major holiday in the Jewish faith.  It's a celebration of a miracle that happened long ago when a feisty family of Maccabees defied the odds, beat the Greeks, and rededicated a defiled temple.  Families spend a nice dinner with some traditional fare, like the ubiquitous latke,  the menorah is lit at sundown, stories told, blessings recited, and the kids get a little present each night as they play a few rounds of dreidel.  It's low-key and a time to spend with family and good company.  

There is not the enormous pressure to buy stuff for everyone in the family, friends, co-workers, and everyone else from the newspaper carrier to the baby sitter. This is a tremendous relief in this economic environment, but it also prevents us from having to attach a respective commercial value on our friends and family as to how much we should be spending on them.  We'd love to bestow the best gifts to our loved ones, but as many are just barely making ends meet, it's an unrealistic and unattainable goal foisted upon us by retailers and social expectations, and it's simply unnecessary.  I'd rather show my friends how much we care by making some tasty treats or crafting a one-of-a-kind token of my appreciation, and I'd never want them to feel bad about not being able to return the favor. 

Our Chanukah Bush at night

Right now we have co-opted the tree, which I call a Chanukah Bush after a childhood book entitled There's No Such Thing as a Chanukah Bush, Sandy Goldstein, about a Jewish girl having the same longings for the festivities and decorations of her friends.  I don't feel particularly bad about this since the Christians stole the idea (and many others now associated with Christmas) from the pagan tradition of celebrating yule in this fashion.  So we have a white tree with blue lights and silver and blue ornaments (blue and white are the colors of Israel), and in preparation for an all-are-welcome Christmahannukah get-together we're hosting, I've attempted to make our home look more festive with some shiny dangling things here and there.

Ultimately, the "point" of Chanukah that I wish my daughters to understand: that people are more important than stuff, the awe of miracles, the warmth of gently flickering candlelight, the buzz of laughter and conversation of friends and family. It is inconsequential if having a lighted tree isn't "Jewish" enough, or not having the equivalent of Santa and his pile of presents isn't as "fun" as Christmas.  

Whatever your holiday of choice this season--tell your family you love them, let your friends know how happy you are they're in your life, make your childrens' eyes grow wide with wonder, tell the story of your holiday with a sparkle in your eye.  Be kind to people who take your orders, and check you out at stores. Smile more, curse less. Yes, give gifts, but remember it's about so much more.  

Learn more about Chanukah here at Chabad.org.

Don't Miss All the Newness of the New Year

This morning, after a challenging night of fussy baby consoling and few hours of uninterrupted sleep, I begrudgingly fumbled around to get dressed and bundled up to take my increasingly anxious dog outside.  He could barely contain himself as I made several half-starts at the door-- oops, forgot to grab a bag, now where did the leash go? I better grab a real coat not just this flimsy hooded wrap, etc.  But as we finally got out the door he bounced around wagging and sniffing excitedly while my eyes struggled to adjust to the cold, bleak brightness.  How could my furry friend be so giddy to frolic around at this wee morning hour (besides the obvious opportunities to urinate on about a dozen different 'special' spots invisible to me) while I shivered and lamented the season's utter greyness?  To him, the first morning walk signals a new day--a comforting, reliable beginning of a daily routine that will be shortly followed by a refilled food bowl, refreshened water bowl, and at least a third of whatever I make myself for breakfast (he hopes it's a cheese omelette with turkey sausage, he told me so).  I can practically hear him chanting "Oh boy! Oh boy! Oh boy!" from his body language, overjoyed that these things have been put into motion as soon as I start groaning about getting up to take him out.

Garrett, my always-happy mutt

Even to a dog, the freshness of a new day is recognized.  How often do we get out of bed and feel that way about a new day?  After all, days keep coming, and more often than not, there is nothing all that spectacular about the next one.  And yet, we're primed to be excited about all things new.  As I stood in the courtyard of our new apartment community, a quirky vintage French Quarter themed establishment, the giant multi-tiered fountain with its ornate French styling looked gloomy rather than inviting, as it stands empty against the grey sky--dead leaves lie where bubbling water will run in several months.  The courtyard itself, missing the humming of activity since the adjacent movie theatre is now on its limited winter hours, and the restaurant and night club are perfectly silent this cold morning. Not one sound of children running around despite it being a clear weekend day, nor dogs barking as people walk past their windows--just the sound of Garrett sniffing, and my own breath puffing a billow of fog in the chilly air.

Today it's 33-degrees here in Columbus, Ohio, and I thought for a moment on how 33 will feel so much warmer later, in the depths of winter, after a big snow has left a blanket of sparking white everywhere, when the wind stops and the sun hangs low--when I step out I will undoubtedly remark about how warm 32-degrees feels.  But today, on the back of a string of days in the upper 40's and into the 50's, 33-degrees with a chilled wind in the air, surrounded by a grey bleakness, it feels absolutely inhospitable.

 I couldn't help but anticipate the surge of energy the new year will bring to this atmosphere--when life in general will seem renewed with fresh ideas, goals, and "newness" even as the greyness of winter persists.  This got me thinking-- how powerful is our concept of time and our associations with designations of 'newness' that in the middle of winter, with nary an environmental clue to anything different (a stark contrast to the sense of newness that comes with the emergence of Spring, and the symbolic triumph of  bright green seedlings sprouting through frost-hardened soil) we can attach a feeling of freshness just because our calendar year will switch to a new numeric value.

We've taken an entirely man-made concept of time (our own calendar having been constructed not too terribly long ago in the grand scale of human history) and attached deeper meanings to the passage of one day which marks the end of one year into another. And yet, once the festivities conclude, many of us view (however briefly) the New Year as a time for self-improvement.  Perhaps it's the feeling of a fresh start, a clean slate, when we can forgive ourself for the failings of last years' resolutions, and which motivates us to try again.

 It would be a shame to waste all this positive energy on just New Years though.

Since we can see that there is really no significant difference between the last day of 2011 and the first day of 2012 except that which we choose to bestow, we can harness that power of the mind to create 'special' times throughout the year as well--imbuing this new year with many new Fresh Starts filled with that same productive energy.  We already have many cues in place to remind us of all the Newness spread throughout the year, and if we pay attention, we can find more.

The calendar year may start in January and conclude in December, but if you have children or are still a student yourself, you are on another calendar which begins sometime at the tail end of summer and concludes just at the end of spring--the school year.  A new school year can mark exciting transitions in academic, social and personal growth, and we make it special with a fresh lot of school supplies, some new clothes, and perhaps even a new organizational system and some new goals, or new year resolutions, if you will.

Then there are other calendars in which that you may participate.  If you are, or have friends who are, of a non-Christian faith, such as myself, there is undoubtedly a different calendar involved.  Since I'm Jewish, our spiritual New Year (Rosh Hashanah) falls at a predictable date on the Hebrew calendar (which is a lunar-based calendar) but on different days each year on the Gregorian calendar (usually sometime in September).

Rosh Hashanah symbols: the shofar horn,
which is blown to signal the new year, and
pomegranates, for luck and prosperity.

You might know someone who celebrates the Chinese New Year (usually between late January and late February-based on a lunar cycle) or the Hindu New Year (usually in April-when the Sun enters a special position).  In fact in many other places in the non-English world, calendars and holidays are tied to lunar phases, and equinoctes and solstices, or on indigenous ancient calendars, or just when spring arrives.  The more you learn how the concept of time is strictly a product of where you were born and the cultural or religious 'tribe' to which you belong, the more January 1st seems rather arbitrary.

On the Jewish calendar, each new month is special.  We even have a special name for the transition from one month to the next, Rosh Chodesh; it's like a mini-holiday at sundown of the last day of the month, which means a new moon is arriving, and has significance in a variety of biblical passages.  And if you consider the oft-cited suggestion that new habits take 30 days to form, a special recognition of each new month can mean many new opportunities to improve yourself throughout the year.

The lunar phases

 Indeed, one tidbit of the Hebrew lexicon that I find so inspiring, is that the word that approximates sin, chet, is derived from an old archery term which roughly means 'to miss the mark.'    As there is no condemnation to any firey pits of hell in the Jewish tradition, the overall concept of sin is that people are typically good, and "sin" is the product of our 'missing the mark'--bound to happen with imperfect beings.  And every time we 'miss the mark' (any time when we were not as good as we could have been) we are afforded a new attempt to hit that target.

So celebrate the Newness of the New Year, come up with all those lofty resolutions.  Clean your house, organize your life.  But as the year drags on, don't forget to observe all the other signs of Newness that pop up throughout the year.  Each one can have the same positive energy--the permission to forgive ourselves for missing the mark, the courage to pick up and shoot again;  That fresh start, the blank slate--a new shot at hitting that target.

Open source, copyright-free images courtesy of Dream Time