A Purim Story - in honor of my father's 100th birthday

Let's begin with saying that I am not good in the kitchen. In fact, it's one of my least favorite places to be. So, when my daughter comes home from college for Spring Break and wants to bake hamantaschen, of course, I say yes.

During the past two years, my daughter has not been home for Rosh Hoshanah or Yom Kippur. Last year we Face-Timed while we lit the Chanukah candles. I drove 8 hours round-trip in one day, so she could join us for Passover. This year, she'll be at college for all of Passover. Luckily, being part of an interfaith family, she gets to be home and celebrate Christmas with my family.

So, I was happy that my she wanted to bake for this weekend's Jewish holiday, Purim. Ironically, the cookies will be served to my Catholic family, since we will be celebrating my Dad's memory on what would have been his 100th birthday. My parents were all about family, and my Dad wanted to live to be 100, so my daughter and I decided to use his 100th birthday as an excuse to throw a party to bring our family together. It just happens to be Purim.

What is Purim?
For those of you who don't know what Purim is, it includes costumes, merry-making, and a reading of the Magillah, a story of when Haman - the bad guy - tries to kill all the Jews. Then, Queen Esther, part of an interfaith marriage, saves the Jews by going to her husband, the King, and begging him to pardon the Jews.

Here is a wonderful song my husband wrote about Purim. 

Purim Blues

Back to the kitchen

Baking with my daughter is a pleasure. 
She must have my mother-in-law's patience in the kitchen. Mom G. used to say that some of her best successes in the kitchen resulted from her biggest disasters. As you can see, making hamantaschen includes folding the cookies into Haman's hat. So, when the dough was very dry today, it began to 
crack and fall apart. Me? I would have thrown out the dough and given up in quite the huff. Not my girl! She stayed calm throughout the process, figured out a solution, and we now have a couple dozen cookies to celebrate her Catholic grandfather's birthday.


Mom's Kitchen

Celebrations in my husband's family are ornate affairs. They include home-made complicated recipes. Nothing is simple. My family was another story. In Mom C's house, food was simple. With five hungry boys and one girl to feed, I suppose she decided early-on that it was going to have to be easy. When we visited my parents' home, pepperoni and cheese were served (the irony of that does not escape me for those who may keep Kosher). Our birthday cakes were made in a tube pan by Betty Crocker, and the frosting came out of a can. For more birthdays than I can remember, the cake was lopsided, and Mom was frustrated that it never came out perfect. All birthday cakes were served with a scoop of Neapolitan ice cream. "Would you like chocolate, vanilla, or strawberry with your cake," they would ask. The reality of it was that no one cared. The point of having cake and ice cream was simple - to bring our family together.

So, in memory of my Mom, I made a Betty Crocker cake. Can't wait to taste it. As is par for the course, I forgot an ingredient and threw it in at the last minute. My daughter's patience must be wearing off on me. I didn't even curse or cry. The good news is that the cake rose to the occasion, so at least it will look good. It will be a yellow cake with chocolate frosting from a can, just like Mom would have made. Oh, and just in case, I bought a pretty, decorated chocolate cake too!

Happy 100th Birthday, 

Daddy! I miss you.

Merry Chanukah! Happy Christmas!

There is lots of discussion this year about the first night of Chanukah. It falls on Christmas Eve. That makes many people happy. Me? I say, "Ugh.

I've spent the past 19 years trying to separate the two.

When we received the invitation to attend the Chanukah celebration at our Synagogue, to be held a week early, I was confused. Why would a Jewish congregation be celebrating an 8-day-long holiday a week early? Just because it falls on Christmas? I called the Rabbi to ask. She told me that is a logistical thing. Most people have plans during the break. The kids are off from school, so they visit family, go on a trip, hang out with friends, or go to a movie. No one wants to commit to coming to Synagogue that week. So, despite my confusion, we went to the celebration. Many families brought their menorah; we did not. They were given the option to light 1 candle, all of the candles, or none. It was…odd.

Gifts

Our kids have always received Christmas gifts on Christmas morning (ostensibly only items that would fit in a stocking - that didn't last long). When they were younger, just like every kid who celebrates Christmas, they came bouncing into our bedroom before dawn to tell us it was time to see what Santa had brought. For Chanukah, they receive a gift a night - usually some combination of a big gift on the first night and small gifts on the other 7 nights. We often give them the option to open all of their gifts on the first night or spread them out through the 8 nights, but they have to agree. It has never happened that they agree to get them all in one night, so we went with a gift a night. If Christmas and Chanukah overlap at all, they generally don't receive a Chanukah gift on Christmas Eve or Day.

On Christmas morning, there is never any huge pile at our house, but there are overflowing stockings. Gifts, as you know, are expensive. So, we decided long ago that we'd give the kids little gifts and treats on Christmas and maybe one big gift. Then, we save the other big gifts to be from Mom and Dad for Chanukah. So, when the holidays overlap, I am always hoping that the gifts we gave them would balance each other out.

The Pleasure of Gift-Giving

However, when Chanukah comes before Christmas and exists as a holiday unto itself, I find great joy in the gift-giving experience. Lighting the candles each night brings our family together. Everything stops - before we sit down to dinner - as we sing the blessings and light the candles. Then, when the kids receive one gift, they enjoy that gift for a full 24 hours! During the years of hot toys, they may even get them before the other kids.

Christmas Eve

Second Cousins

Cousins

Tonight is Christmas Eve! Our family loves Christmas Eve. We spend it in the warmth of my niece's home with her family and quite a few of my other nieces, nephews, and great nieces and nephews, my brother and a sister-in-law. In years past, my parents were there. Gift-giving is at a minimum, and the night is centered around simply being together. Two years in a row, my daughter made a decision to go/not go on a trip because she didn't want to miss Christmas Eve/Day with my family. (More on that later this week.)

1st Night of Chanukah

Tonight, before we leave, we will set aside time to light the candles on the menorah. We'll probably choose the small fast-burning candles, so that the candles have a chance to burn all the way. In years past, when we have been in the midst of Chanukah, if we lit the candles at all on Christmas Eve, it would be after we came home. However, the first night is always special.

First Night

8 Nights of Chanukah

Everyone knows the song "The Twelve Days of Christmas." The days leading up to Christmas are busy, busy, busy. Baking, shopping, and wrapping consume us. Then, the week after Christmas is spent visiting with friends and family, relaxing, and just spending time with your spouse and children. This year, the entire 8 nights of Chanukah will fall during the window of Christmas Eve to New Year's Eve. Me? I say, "That's a shame." When the 8 nights fall in early to mid-December, my family gets 8 nights to stop everything and be together for the 15 minutes it takes to celebrate the holiday that night. We'll still do it this year, but it will be before or after a movie, wedged in during Eve's - an afterthought. I'll miss that moment in time this year.

Happy Chanukah! Merry Christmas!

Christmas Minyan

Last year, I spent Christmas night at Shabbat Services. We had spent the past 24 hours with my Catholic family. Christmas Eve in one house. Christmas dinner at another. On the way home, on a warm and rainy Christmas night, we decided to take a drive through the nearby light show. We passed the local Chinese restaurant, and it was packed. We knew that there were certainly enough Jews for a  minyan. My husband mentioned that there were services at our synagogue in an hour. I said, "I'm game." My daughter said that she'd like to go to services before returning to college. Son was not as enthusiastic, but he didn't complain either. So, after listening to Christmas carols on Pandora as we viewed the light show, I said good-bye to Christmas for the year by pausing the carols at the conclusion of the song. Then we pulled into the synagogue parking lot. We were the only interfaith family in attendance, but we weren't the only family. It was a peaceful - and enjoyable way to end the holiday.

Our Rabbi's d'var was all about balance. Although my response to her question about balance focused on career and family, I just now realized how, at that very moment, I was balancing my role as an interfaith mother. At that point, with my parents gone, I was wondering why I'm still trying to walk this balance beam. I'm wondering…

During services, my son, who by no fault of his own, had a rather unique formal Jewish upbringing, sang out strong - reading either the Hebrew or having memorized the blessings. My daughter, a freshman in college, was there by choice. We had done what we set out to do.

Good Shabbos, Christmas.

Shalom, Christmas

Music is such an important part of our family's life. My parents met each other dancing, and they danced their entire lives together. My father-in-law is a Cantor, and my husband, daughter, and son are all musicians. We are surrounded by music.

So, sometime in early November, when my children start asking when the radio station is going to be all-Christmas, I bristle. I tell them that if it starts before Thanksgiving, I just can't listen to it. Christmas music should be special. For me, it brings back all kinds of December memories, so I'd prefer that it not start in mid-November. When I hear The Little Drummer Boy, I think about the living nativity. When we sing O Come All Ye Faithful, it reminds me that my Dad wouldn't let us put the baby Jesus in the manger until late on Christmas Eve. We Three Kings is a reminder that the Three Wise Men shouldn't be placed around the nativity until January 6th - the feast of the Epiphany. Rudolph and I Saw Mommy Kissing Santa Claus bring back memories of singing along with Mitch Miller. I try to make all of these connections for my children, at least letting them in on the memories, even if the religious ones don't resonate with them.

Singing Stille Nacht

Our family has built a musical Christmas tradition that feels familiar to all of us. It is a week away. I am deep into the prep at this point, and as much as I may whine about it, I enjoy it. I turn on a sappy Hallmark channel movie or sing along to Christmas carols, as I clean the house from top to bottom. We host an annual holiday party with a typical crowd of about 100 (and invite 200). It’s a real mix of Christians and Jews. Everyone comes together, in our interfaith home, to celebrate the season. Our house is decorated with snowmen, carolers, ornament trees, and menorahs. It is comfortable for everyone, and it brings them joy. My Jewish husband plays the piano, and our family and friends join us to sing Christmas carols and a few Chanukah songs. 

Lots of Little Ones - All Grown Up Now

Many of my brothers, sisters-in-law, nieces, nephews, spouses, and children come. When my parents joined us, they danced during their favorite songs. The year Mom passed away, it was bittersweet when we sang, Grandma Got Run Over by a Reindeer. Another year, my very dear friend stepped up to the piano to belt out Santa Baby" with me. Did you know that there are lots of Jews who love to sing Christmas carols? One of my vivid memories from this day is of my Jewish sister-in-law and my father-in-law, the Cantor, singing Stille Nacht (Silent Night) at the piano.  There are a few people who have made it every year - for 24 years. Many have come for at least 20! Each year, there is someone who joins us for the first time. Our friends' children have grown up coming to our party. This year, a little girl who wore her velvet Christmas dress at age 4, will bring her boyfriend at age 19. Now, our children invite their high school and college friends to join us. When, in November, people start asking "When is your party," you know you've created a tradition.

Getting Ready Many Years Ago

Our children enjoy preparing for the big day, and they look forward to inviting new friends. My daughter even postponed her Birthright Israel trip, because it would overlap our holiday party. One boy, after coming for the past 8 or so years, visited a few days after the party to make gingerbread houses. He was surprised that we were playing Christmas music. "I thought you were Jewish," he said. "We are, but haven't you been coming to our holiday party for years?" He responded, "Yes, but I thought you just did that for the Christians!"

You know what? I think we're doing it right.

Twice Means Tradition

When my parents were growing up, they were part of the melting pot generation. Their parents believed in being American - not Italian, not German. That may be the reason that we didn't have a lot of family tradition. It could also be the fact that there were so many of us! 

For our first Christmas, my husband surprised me with a fully-decorated Christmas tree. Since I was a bird watcher, he found enough bird ornaments to cover the entire tree. It was one of those special moments. Then, once our daughter was born, it seems like she said the phrase, "We always do it that way," from the moment she could talk. Tradition has always been important to her. When she was about 2 1/2, she laid under our Christmas tree and basked in the glow of the lights. Yes, it was a beautiful moment --- one that gave me pause. 

We were beginning to build our own family traditions. I knew that what we did at age 2 1/2 was going to be the beginning of traditions that would last a lifetime. If you know me, you know that I tend to do things all the way or not at all. So, if I was going to have Jewish children, I was going to have Jewish children - not half-Jewish. That year I made the decision that it would be the last year to have a Christmas tree.

However, I can't lie to you. As I walk through my neighborhood at this time of year, I do have Christmas decorating envy. I so enjoy walking about the neighborhood to see the lights. The trees peeking out through the windows of my neighbors' homes delight me. We did have lights for a couple of years. About a year after we moved into our home, my husband decided that he was going to have lights. He made the columns on our front porch look like candy canes. The lights could have landed a plane! If you give a Jew some lights at Christmas...he'll go overboard! Although that was probably the last time we had lights, our wonderful next-door-neighbors had loads of beautiful white lights across the front of their house. Because of the way our houses are placed, their lights always wandered close to our trees. I always hoped that they'd find their way on to our trees. They never did! When our daughter was about 3 years old, and our son was a newborn, we spent most nights driving around town looking for lights. Now, every time I see Christmas lights, I think of my daughter's tiny voice, "Yights, Mommy, more yights!"

Our decorations at this time of year include menorahs, snowmen, stockings, and two ornament trees. My kids enjoy the decorating more than I do; it's the tradition I enjoy.

I suppose I've overcompensated for the lack of Christmas decorations by buying menorahs (we're up to 10), special candles, and even an oil menorah. The glow of the candles each night warms my heart.

Decorating is a major part of this holiday season. As an interfaith family, we built our own traditions and figured out what works for us.

Giving Thanks for My Interfaith Family

Thanksgiving is my favorite holiday. Other than being thankful for friends, family, and the blessings of the year, there is no religious aspect to the holiday. You spend time with loved ones, and there are no expectations other than a good meal and good conversation.

Our Thanksgiving tradition has changed over the years. For the past 5+ years, my nephew and his family have joined us around our table. For the past couple of years, a second nephew has joined us. We almost switched it up this year to join my husband's family. However, tradition prevailed, and my husband and daughter spent Wednesday evening and most of Thursday cooking. After everyone arrived, as is our tradition, each of us took a moment to mention something that they are thankful for. Then the Catholics said Grace Before Meals, and the Jews said the Hamotzi. The meal was fabulous, the political conversation was exciting, and the joy of just being with family was precious.

This weekend, the celebration continued. Much of my husband's family was in town to celebrate a milestone birthday for my father-in-law. All but a few of the immediate family came to our house for dinner on Friday. Once again, great food, heated political conversation, and the joy of being together were what it was all about. Just as I sat down to eat, my father-in-law, the Cantor, said, "It's Friday, isn't it?" With that, I, his non-Jewish daughter-in-law, reached behind me, pulled out some candles, lit the candles, and recited the blessing for Shabbat. Then, I poured a glass of wine and asked my father-in-law to say the  prayer over the wine. He sang the Kiddush, a blessing that was truly a blessing upon all of us to hear him sing, as we were about to celebrate his 90th birthday.

Finally, on Saturday, we celebrated his birthday with a party. It didn't dawn on me, as it often has in the past, that just about everyone who was there is Jewish. We were all simply people coming together to celebrate the life of a man who connects all of us in some way. There was a big college football game on in the background. Many alumni and a current student were cheering on the team. Renewed acquaintances, cousins who hadn't seen each other for yours, and old friends all greeted each other with warm hugs. Afterward, as a family, we sat and talked for hours.

In all of these moments this weekend, there was no interfaith. It was just family.

Now What?

Once we celebrated our daughter becoming a  Bat Mitzvah, we pondered, "Where do we go now?" Nearly 10 months had passed. There were times when I walked into the building, and, once again, finally, I felt at home. There were other times when, although I didn’t feel like an outsider, I felt like I was on parade. People were watching me, watching my husband, wondering what we were doing there. When I saw the Rabbi, I didn’t know if I should hate him or feel sorry for him. More than anything I felt sorry for us and the rest of the congregation.

I knew that I was tired of talking about the place and everything that happened there. I wasn't Jewish, and I was deep into the politics of a Jewish congregation. I couldn't help but wonder whether this would ever happen in a Catholic Church. I wanted to be done with the whole situation. I was tired of being defined by it. If we chose to stay, could we move forward? If we left, would we forever wonder what would have happened had we stayed? After everything I had done to make sure my children had a Jewish religious identity, would it be lost if we left? Or could we be happy and move on?

We left.

Now what?

After spending years deciding that our children would be raised Jewish and determining how best to raise them that way, we were at a crossroads. We had a Bat Mitzvah behind us, and we wanted our son to receive as solid a religious education as our daughter did. Would he understand the holidays? What would happen when it was time for his Bar Mitzvah? Would he be able to follow a service? Would he be able to lead the service, like his sister did? 

We began shopping for a new congregation. That's easier said than done for an interfaith family. I had just about become comfortable walking into my children's religious school and feeling like I belonged there. I was finally able to join my family for services and not feel like there was a Scarlet C (Catholic) on my chest. Not all congregations were welcoming of interfaith families. Some were happy to add you to their membership rolls, but that didn't mean that the non-Jewish parent would feel at home. That did not sit well with my commitment to actively participate in my children's religious life. I had finally learned the prayers and songs that our Reconstructionist congregation used all of the time. We were surrounded by Reform and Conservative synagogues. If we joined one How long was it going to take me to feel like I belonged? Sigh.

Rather than join a congregation, we decided to remain with our kehillah - our informal Jewish community - until the timing was right.

So, we were faced with a conundrum. When you make the decision to leave your congregation, what do you do for the 3rd grader who is just about to begin his formal religious education? You start a school. Why not?

Why did we want to start a school? We wanted to provide our child with:

• An ongoing religious education
• Friends who are Jewish
• Religious continuity
• Community
• A religious lens on the world
• The same education that his older sister had

We were very fortunate to find a teacher who we knew and who was willing to work with a group of parents who had very strong opinions. :) However, the teacher we wanted wasn't available to have class on Sunday morning or in the evening during the week. The best option was Sunday evenings. Location? The local grocery store's upper room. (The irony of it being the upper room is not lost on this Interfaith Mom.) The parents who collaborated on the curriculum decided to invite all of the families to arrive early each Sunday, grab dinner in the prepared foods section, and eat dinner together prior to class. It was wonderful! The kids became fast friends, the parents had plenty to talk about, and our religious school community was born.

Each week, the students started the class with a service. Many of the parents even attended the service. Our daughter became an aide in the school, along with the other older kids. We had built a community of peace.

Apple Picking for Rosh Hoshanah

We also had our extended community of adults whose children were beyond religious school. Our adult community joined us during our annual Chanukah celebration. In fact, they hosted us. Each family brought a menorah, and we lit them together. We joined together to celebrate the High Holy Days. The adults attended our school Shabbat service. They made our children feel like they were part of a religious community.

I am sure that these parents who we dined with each week in the upper room and the larger adult community who supported us never had any idea of their long-term impact on our interfaith family's life. If it wasn't for them, it would have been easy to throw my hands up and say, "Hey, I tried." Instead, I say, "Thank you."