Merry Christmas – or perhaps, I should say, Season’s Greetings. The festive period can be something of a minefield for the culturally sensitive: even a presumptive or mis-worded greeting, however well meant, may be misconstrued as an affront to diversity and an expression of non-inclusivity. Not least to those who don’t celebrate Christmas, perhaps due to their ethnicity or religion.
Being Jewish, this must surely then include me. After all, I don’t sing Christmas carols or believe in the chap with the white beard. So shouldn’t the greatest care be taken when offering greetings of the season or making mention of pigs – pigs! – in blankets?
When I make Friday night dinner throughout the year I often riff on the Christmas menu
Bah humbug. I’m actually offended by the idea that I might be offended. Just because I don’t officially celebrate Christmas – no tree, no presents, no Michael Bublé compilation albums playing on repeat – doesn’t mean I have to be ring fenced off from all its spangly, tinsel-draped wonder.
Quite the opposite. In fact, I love everything about Christmas. While I might not celebrate, I absorb by osmosis the sense of excitement and anticipation from those around me as they prepare for the big day. After all, what’s not to love about a time of year which temporarily lifts the bleakness of winter and turns it into a national sound and light show? And you can never watch It’s A Wonderful Life too many times.
That’s why you’ll find this Jewish girl idling in gift aisles, studying Christmas jumpers or marvelling at how many ways stuffed dates can be presented in a yuletide pack. This year, I have almost been tempted – despite being middle aged – to buy a: ‘Build a chocolate cottage kit’, stumbling upon this architectural wonder amongst the selection packs and Cadbury’s Christmas puddings.
When it’s time to put up decorations at work I am, as they say in my part of the north, right in there, stringing ice blue fairy lights around the desks, while rewinding a clockwork Santa which bashes out an improbable authentic version of Jingle Bells. I tell crestfallen colleagues not to feel sad that we Jews don’t do tinsel and fairy lights at home. It’s not our tradition, but I still relish being part of theirs. In fact I was the first to ask the team I was working with if we could do Secret Santa. Last year I received a Pot Noodle cracker and a still treasured mulberry lip gloss. What’s not to love, Rabbi?
Indeed coming from a traditional Jewish background probably compounds my love of Christmas. Not least because our Friday night dinners aren’t that dissimilar to the big yuletide feast. They just happen more often. Otherwise the parity is palpable. Namely sitting with family and friends around the table, getting merry on booze, eating more roasties than is surely legal and falling into a food coma afterwards.
When I make Friday night dinner throughout the year I often riff on the Christmas menu; serving traditional Jewish roast chicken with side orders of sprouts and chestnuts or honey glazed carrots. Even making my version of pigs in blanket – see I don’t flinch – by supplanting bacon with strips of salt beef.
As for Christmas Day, well since I’m usually not working and our disparate children may return home, like many Jewish people I may do a family dinner. Indeed my local kosher butcher, Colin, sells more turkeys pro rata than any other butchers in the area. Since we Jews love a roast and a challenge, why not have a go at the big bird? Sure, there won’t be a tree or stockings packed with chocolate and satsumas. But we’ll buy a few crackers, if only for the jokes inside. After all, we Jews love terrible jokes.
Above all I love Christmas, even if it’s as a spectator. The city centre is thronged with shoppers visiting our now famous Christmas markets. I might give the roast hog a miss, but just to wander through faux Swiss chalets while the smell of cherry glühwein drifts across the cold night air is a perfect mood booster.
Christmas is a singular event, too sparkly to be suppressed by the bah humbug brigade who want to wish one a ‘happy holiday’ instead. This Jew can’t wait until the big day: Merry Christmas.
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