My year with a Christmas tree during Hanukkah (and how I still kept my Jewish identity)
“I went to the craft market and got you an awesome Hanukkah gift!” My post-college (and certified Santa-loving) roommate exclaimed one December morning.
“How thoughtful!” I responded, truly touched that she had thought of me on Hanukkah.
“It’s a star of David ornament for our Christmas tree! And a Happy Hanukkah stocking!” she said enthusiastically.
I didn’t know what to say or do. I thought to myself: “I am Jewish, hoping to be a rabbi, a teacher in a Jewish religious school, an employee at a Jewish non-profit.” But I was also a good friend, who respected my roommate’s love for all things Christmas, having seen her don her Santa Hat every morning for a month with no intention other than to bring her joy. To tell her that we couldn’t have a Christmas tree would say that I didn’t respect or accept her holiday and its traditions. It would tell her that her family, who goes to the woods every year to cut down the perfect tree, sip hot chocolate and sing, and spend time together celebrating family traditions that spanned the generations, was wrong and not welcome in my home. I simply couldn’t do that.
But could I have a Christmas tree in my home? What would that say about my Judaism? What would my family think? My friends? My boss? My students?
We ended up having a tree, with blue and white ornaments alongside her family ornaments, and my star of David displayed proudly. Our menorah stood on the windowsill and we lit it together every night. We had a party, during which I decorated a stocking. She taught me how to cut the stem of the tree to make coasters so our home would smell incredible the entire season.
I grew to love the presence of that tree in our living room: its delicious scent, the green life it brought to our dark gray winter and the symbol it represented of togetherness and joy. It was still a Christmas tree, but it became something much more than that for me and my roommate. It was a sign of acceptance and love. Of life and tradition.