Christmas tales

editorial notebook

- Larry Williams

Hanukkah lights

Does Santa know I'm Jewish?

Nothing I learned from the sisters of the Immaculate Heart of Mary prepared me for that question. And the 6-year-old in the back seat of the car was waiting for an answer.

Oh yes, he knows. God told him.

Santa talks to God?

Oh, yes, I said confidently and (I hoped) convincingly, God lets Santa know which houses celebrate Hanukkah.

The boy was thinking it over, his question born out of personal need. He was trying to find his footing at a time of the year when every radio jingle, store window and television announcer reminds him of what he is not. He wanted to know his place. At 6 years old, some things are very clear and others not. My answer seemed to satisfy him, reassure him, I thought.

Never more so than now have I realized how this season can make the roughly one out of 20 Americans who don't worship Jesus feel like outsiders. From the Christmas carols in the mall to the inflatable snow globes on front lawns to the Santa riding in the local fire truck to those babies in the mangers, the trappings are tough to ignore and harder yet to dismiss. Especially for a 6-year-old.

I've been navigating two faiths for 20 years now. My husband and I don't worship in the same place, though we both strongly identify with our respective faiths. We long ago negotiated the holidays. I host Passover dinner most every year, but spend Easter morning in church, often at a West Baltimore Catholic parish with a close friend. Christmas with my family in New York avoided the problem of a tree in our Baltimore rowhouse; it never seemed quite fair to expect my Jewish husband to take on that ritual. They were called Hanukkah bushes where I grew up.

In my house, a collection of menorahs lines the fireplace mantle, gifts to my husband over the years. (He did return the one shaped like a motorcycle.) And often, we light several of them. While stationed in the Middle East some years ago, I accepted with sincere gratitude a free Christmas tree from the Jerusalem municipality, which gave them out at an entrance to the walled Old City, the heart of the Jewish capital. The trees were the pruned remains of Israel's national forests, among the thousands planted with donations from Jews worldwide. That remains one of my fondest memories of celebrating this bi-religious life.