X Marks the Spot

Definitions of all foreign words in this week's blog can be found at Google.com. Just type in define: and then the word.
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Last week, on a grassy riverbank, I met up with Katie for an evening picnic. Many Chinese these days have English names and Katie is no exception. We chatted about all sorts of things – mundane, philosophical and cultural – and she helped me practice my Mandarin.

Aware that this was an opportunity for me to brush up my language skills, and not wanting to be a third wheel, Penelope made other plans.

It was a lovely evening. As we sat there soaking up the atmosphere, Katie said: “Next week is Xmas. What will you do?” I stared at her blankly. Katie, of course, is Chinese.
“What do you mean? I’m Jewish! We’re like the Chinese; we don’t celebrate Xmas!” Her question was logical of course. Especially for someone with a Buddhist heritage who, in addition, grew up in a communist tailored, secular education system.

And it got me thinking about my relationship with Xmas.

In Australia, where I grew up, Xmas represented summer vacation. I was always at camp in the forest somewhere. My earliest memories of the festival are of nearby campers brawling in front of their campfires after a jolly and intoxicating Xmas feast.
“So that’s how the other half live” I thought to myself.

One year I wasn’t at camp. I must have been about 12 years old and I spent my first full blown Christmas with non-Jewish relatives. It was lovely. (I had an inkling of what to expect from the festive dross they show at the cinema). Christmas morning I rose early and woke my cousin to come and find the gifts under the Xmas tree. “Go back to sleep” he responded sleepily “there’s no rush”. But I was too excited – my first Xmas! Silently, alone, I crept to the Xmas tree, hoping to find a red sock with a toy for me. Instead I discovered numerous large pillow slips, many bearing my name and containing eight (I remember counting) gifts! Truly a wondrous festival! It certainly beat that little bag of chocolate coins and wooden dreidel we got for gambling with on Hannuka…

Extended family and friends joined us throughout the day, and a large turkey was carved up for lunch. One distant relative didn’t know I would be there but still managed to find me a gift. A packet of handkerchiefs. Well, I don’t use handkerchiefs (I am a tissue fan myself). But I felt a certain grace from his efforts, so concerned was he that I shouldn’t feel left out.

On one level I really enjoyed the experience. But on another, I felt out of step. Even at that stage I had a strong sense of my Jewishness.

Time passed.

University break was approaching and I wanted a summer job. The employment office had just the thing for me. How would I like to be a shopping mall Santa, dispensing gifts and being photographed with children sitting on my lap? I thought the employment clerk was kidding. My reflection in the window showed a skinny runt sporting a black beard, kippa and tzitzit. But the clerk wasn’t kidding.

My response was immediate: “I’ll do it if I can wear a red santa hat with a pom-pom and not work Saturdays”. Each day after Mincha prayers I practiced grunting “Ho Ho Ho, Meeeeeerry Xmas!”. Some Jews can do it. Not me. In the end I consulted my Rabbi. “When does it become a halachic problem if a girl sits on my knee?” I asked. Needless to say, I didn’t take the job.

Taking up an American custom, Australians have been decorating their houses with huge displays entailing illuminated reindeer, sleighs and singing Santas. Whole neighbourhoods shine like a fun fair for the month of December. When friends from shul arranged a blind date for me with a nice religious girl, I took her on a tour of these decorated houses. It certainly was “different”. I think she had a nice time, but I’ll never know. We never spoke again.

Living in Israel brought me a sense of harmony. What a pleasure not to be bombarded with constant reminders of how many “shopping days left to Xmas”. Although only 15 minutes from my home, I only acknowledged the importance of Bethlehem when midnight mass was broadcast live from the Church of the Nativity. I switched off the TV and went to bed. Let them enjoy. Not my festival.

To my eye, the Gregorian New Year’s Eve - the 8th day counting from Xmas, the festival recounting the birth of Jesus - seemed more like an irrelevant booze up than a celebration of someone’s circumcision. My friends in Israel sometimes tried wishing each other a Shana Tova (Happy New Year), but the greeting seemed flat and inappropriate; we had already celebrated the “real” New Year in October.

Things have, of course, changed now. A large number of Eastern European immigrants to Israel celebrate Xmas. Many are Christian. Many are Jewish. Add to this the Israeli aspiration to be normal (ie: like other countries) and the result is a proliferation of Xmas celebrations. Xmas trees and paraphernalia are now readily available. This year, I have been told, controversy has arisen concerning priority given to Xmas paraphernalia over Hannuka accessories at the supermarket. (The issue has be given importance as it revolves around the character of a Jewish State.)

Last year I decided to see what the fuss was about. For safety reasons, Jews are prohibited from visiting to Bethlehem. Instead, I joined friends at the midnight mass conducted at the Dormition Abbey in Jerusalem. It was the first time I had ever been in a church (which is a "no no" under Jewish law). The church overflowed with a Jewish audience. The ceremony was fascinating, the acoustics beautiful. An orthodox Jewish girl in my group became pale and had to excuse herself. I also felt slightly unsure of myself at first, but it felt more like a theatre performance than anything else. When the mass ended, the Jewish couple next to me loudly exclaimed “How beautiful. Is this your first time? We go to mass every year – never miss it”. I looked back at them with concern. “I don’t mind that you go every year to watch the show, as long as you also hear the shofar on Rosh Hashana and Yom Kippur”. “Of course!” they replied defensively, before rushing off to their car.

The nice thing was that I ended up dating the Jewish girl who sat next to me.

My wish to you, dear reader, is simple. Wherever you are, enjoy the season you are having. After all, peace and goodwill to all is an important, universal message.

But whatever you do, always remember who you are.

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The Shabbos Krepel

Another Friday, another city.

Our bus arrived in town much later than scheduled. Luckily, we managed to find a hostel just as the sun was setting. As I grabbed the room key, the girl at reception said “Don’t forget, dumpling party downstairs at 6 o’clock tonight”.

Shabbat must have come in just as P and I dropped our bags in our room. We were both tired and hungry, but I wanted to meet new people. “Let’s go to the dumpling party – we’ll make Kiddush later.” P made a face. “Oh come on" I insisted, "they’re just Chinese kreplach!” P was unimpressed and went off to the bathroom to freshen up. Glancing back, she said “You go if you want; I’m staying here. It’s Shabbos already”. That didn’t bother me; I wouldn't be breaking Shabbat just by meeting people.

I wandered down to the lobby area. About 15 people milled around a large table, all rolling dough. No-one was socialising until I came. I introduced myself and, with a few light comments, the mood lightened. Within minutes everyone was chatting and joking around. The chef brought out some minced meat and showed everyone how to wrap it. At first I just watched, but after much pressure I agreed to join in.

It is a strange feeling, wrapping pork mince in pastry on Shabbat. I was pretty sure that I was not in breach of any Jewish law (although that may be a matter of definition). But even if I was, who (apart from God) would know? Here I was many hours from the nearest Jew.

It was an eclectic crowd, hailing from all over the world. Even though I told them I was from Israel, no-one commented on the fact that it was Shabbat. Anywhere else I would have been sitting down to a festive meal with other Jews. But this all felt so - secular.

A young Chinese woman, about 20 years old, helped me shape my pastry. She flirted with a beautiful innocence, and her face flushed whenever I said anything. I felt like I was being courted by a trained Japanese geisha. She later told me that she works at the hostel and tonight is her night off. She had come to meet people.

Another, slightly older Chinese woman heard that I was from Israel. She introduced herself. “You are Jewish? I am Christian. You are the first Jew I have ever met.”
“Can I show you my horns?” I asked and then quickly apologised, realising that she might take me seriously. We spoke a while, and I felt it important to afford her the opportunity to ask me any questions she may have.

Eventually the younger woman pulled me aside. “She is very beautiful, yes? Much more than me?” I wondered what P would make of all this.

In the meantime our pastry had been taken away to the kitchen and now returned cooked. Everyone who had helped prepare, tasted some. Everyone except me.
“You must eat. You worked so hard. We all must eat”.
With an insistent smile I stuck to my guns; “I cannot eat, I am vegetarian”. A Pakistani fellow walked into the room and sidled up to me.
“You’re the Israeli. You won’t eat pork – I know”. We watched the others tuck in while we both refrained.

No-one was aware that it was my Sabbath. Only the Pakistani guy had any idea that I might not eat pork. I was in a totally foreign world. And although I physically sat there, everyone was oblivious to my reality.

I left the crowd and came back to the room where P and I were staying. The door of the ensuite bathroom was ajar, shedding a sliver of light on the otherwise dark room. P was in bed, reading. “Shabbat Shalom” I said, greeting her.
“Shabbat Shalom” she responded, looking up with a peaceful gaze.

It had been nice to meet the gang downstairs, to chat with the pretty Chinese women and to learn how to make Chinese Kreplach. But they are not my Kreplach, and it is not my world. I belong here, with Penelope, enjoying a day of rest, Jewish style.

A rather special feeling came over me. After all, were it not for me and P, Shabbat would not have existed this weekend in this small corner of the world.

I hope you all had a great Shabbat this weekend in your part of the world.

Al

Hanukkah On The Go

Jewish festivals occur in a cycle. Each one conjures up associations from different times in our lives. Hanukkah is no exception.

Hanukkah is a festival of opposites. It represents the struggle between light and dark, in both a physical and a spiritual sense. On a personal level, for me as a traveller, it also represents different spheres of the globe, the extremes found in nature, opposing philosophical approaches in my life.

I recall, as a die hard secularist, singing Hanukkah songs in Yiddish. We celebrated the festival as a cultural phenomenon. But, I thought, what impetus is there to celebrate a religious festival if its religious origins are offhandedly discarded as irrelevant? What value has a culture that jettisons its origins? It was the beginning of a process that propelled me to appreciate the importance of my identity’s religious foundation.

I remember, as an idealistic Diaspora Jew, lighting my Hannukia in an Australian forest, on a fallen tree log between my tent and a rushing river. It was the height of summer and, before I could light them, the wax candles had begun to prostrate themselves under the influence of the intense heat of the evening. I moulded the candles back into shape with my hands and prayed that the curious kangaroos watching from a distance were sufficient witnesses for the mitzvah of Pirsumei Nisah.

I have huddled around Hanukkah candles with a handful of Jews in a freezing Korean winter, all seeking to privately express an identity that they suppress in their everyday lives. I have stretched out on my balcony overlooking a coral reef in Thailand, surrounded by candles in empty coke bottles to shield them from the soothing tropical breeze. Passersby were inquisitive, and I answered their questions over a snack of fresh fruit and nuts. The candles act as a neon sign by which I can proudly and openly express self pride and identity, instead of cowering in fear.

Hanukkah is, essentially, a triumph of nationalist spirit. And this is most powerfully felt in Israel. For it was the Maccabees, a small group of Israelis, that ignited the spirit of a generation and continue to drive their descendants today.
Walking along the streets of Jerusalem, where the lights shine from numerous windows, one feels that this is more than just a festival; it is a tangible, ongoing manifestation of the place of Jews and Israel in history, both ancient and modern.

For all her knowledge of Jewish custom, Penelope is not, herself, Jewish. (We once discussed her feelings towards Judaism, but she confessed that she could never convert. For one thing, most ceremonies entail lighting candles or bonfires and, with her flammable fur, she would be prevented from participating in most rituals). Although she has not quite thrown her lot in with the destiny of the Jewish people, she has enormous admiration for our values. Out of respect for me and for the significant import of the occasion, she looked on this week as I prepared the Hanukkah lights, and joined in with the songs that she has heard so often.

(Sidenote: P has this disparaging attitude towards kangaroos and doesn’t think they’re good enough for Pirsumei Nisah. Conversely, she says that Koalas are on a higher spiritual level, thus qualifying them as witnesses for the mitzvah. I must remember to anonymously write to an online “Ask The Rabbi” website about that one…Maybe it will make a difference if she’s been to the mikvah?)

Today, wherever I am and wherever I light my Hanukkah candles, I feel it all: the intense cold and scorching heat; the emptiness of culture without foundation and the fullness of religious heritage; the cowering diaspora existence and a deep sense of national pride, manifested in a modern country in my ancestral Jewish home.

Who would have thought that a minor festival could invoke all of that?