What’s a Jew to do on Christmas Eve?
Three years ago, at the confirmation hearings examining her
fitness to serve as a Supreme Court Justice, Elena Kagan was asked some tough
questions. One that initially flustered
her was, “Where were you at on Christmas?”
She finally responded, “You know, like all Jews, I was probably in a
Chinese restaurant.”
For the benefit of those who had no idea what Ms. Kagan was
talking about, her sponsor, Senator Schumer explained, “No other restaurants are open.” (The
answer apparently satisfied her interlocutor, Senator Lindsey Graham, who
responded, “Great answer.”)
You can check out the Youtube video of the exchange right here:
Many Jews have long wondered where they should go and what
they should do on Christmas.
Long before Jews began going to Chinese restaurants—indeed, long
before Jews came to this country, Jews would stay home on Christmas Eve. It was considered dangerous to be up and about. The reason is simple: as on other Christian holidays such as Good
Friday, Christmas Eve was a time for pogroms.
By the way, Jews didn’t call it “Christmas Eve,” they called
it “Nitl Nacht.” (“Nitl” is a Yiddish
word meaning, “natal” or “nativity,” and “nacht” means “night” or “evening.”)
Jews began to adopt practices on Nitl Nacht that allowed
them to express their resentment of their subjugated state, such as reading from
a less-than-flattering account of the birth of Jesus, called, Tol’dot Yeshu. They would refrain from studying Torah, lest they
lend an air of holiness to the evening.
Instead, they would engage in less serious pursuits, such as card playing.
Today, we no longer live in a subjugated state. We live in a
free country. Our Christian neighbors
and friends don’t share the same hostility toward us as those among whom we
lived during the Middle Ages. In pluralistic America, religious affiliation tends to bring us together, rather than tearing us apart; it tends to support
understanding, tolerance and ecumenicism. Hence, pursuits that
cast aspersions upon Christianity are entirely without warrant.
What then are we to do on a national holiday on which just about everything is closed?
One response is to relax and
enjoy ourselves—which is why I’m so grateful to our Men's Club for sponsoring an evening of fun at the synagogue on December 24th. (Please contact Rick Kramer at rickkra@gmail.com for further details.)
Another fine response is to volunteer to help our non-Jewish
friends and neighbors on this day. I'll never forget one particularly
memorable Christmas Day I spent with my father many years ago. He had volunteered to help out in the kitchen
of a local hospital and, at the last minute, invited me to tag along with him. I’m so glad he did. It was very gratifying for both of us to volunteer time so that the regular food service workers in the hospital could be with their families on their holiday.
Many of us to do this quietly on our own. Collectively, we have Project Ezra, sponsored by the Synagogue Council of Massachusetts, which places volunteers in various shelters in the metropolitan area on Christmas. I am grateful to our Social Action Committee
for facilitating our participation in this worthy program. Fifty-one (51!) of our members are due to participate this year!
Some of us have non-Jewish relatives—perhaps spouses or
parents. What are we to do? If we are Jewish, how can we celebrate
Christmas? On the other hand, how can we not join our loved ones on this
day?
A number of years ago, Jewish
educator Joel Grishaver came up with a useful distinction. On the one hand, he said, Jews
should not "celebrate" Christmas.
After all, it isn’t a Jewish holiday. We shouldn't compromise our religious and cultural integrity. On the other hand, if we have non-Jewish relatives, we shouldn’t hesitate to “visit” Christmas with them. We can
and should respect our relatives’ holidays, and we can lovingly support our loved ones--without however celebrating those days ourselves.
Let me close on an amusing note. I’m sure that many of us
are familiar with the famous poem, “A Visit from St. Nicholas,” written by
Clement Clarke Moore (1779-1863) in 1822.
I’m sure many of us remember those opening lines:
T’was the
night before Christmas,
and all
through the house,
not a
creature was stirring,
not even a
mouse.
But I am sure that most of us have never heard this poem
recited in Yiddish! Well, there’s always
a first time: click here to hear a
recording of Dr. Sheldon Benjamin reciting Marie B. Jaffe's Yiddish translation, published in Gut Yuntiff, Gut Yohr, in 1965.
And while you're at it, have yourself a merry
Nitl Nacht!
Sincerely,
Rabbi Carl M. Perkins
