Merry, Merry

Today is the winter solstice, and all across the northern hemisphere, celebrations are underway. The light will turn, the days grow longer. Winter, though perhaps just getting started, will assuredly end. Only a mere 3 months to the vernal equinox!

Many people choose the holiday season to donate to charity or volunteer their time, but, since I volunteer approximately 10 hours a week during the school year, it's time for me to take a break from doing good and spend 2 weeks taking care of myself.

This year, I've been acting as volunteer librarian at a local elementary school, which puts me in close proximity to 100s of developing minds. On Thursday afternoon, shortly before the beginning of break, an inquisitive 4th grader asked about my Christmas plans. I explained to her that I was Jewish, because that was much easier than detailing my actual spiritual beliefs, which could fill a book, or be summed up with the word, "pantheist." Neither explanation seemed suitable.

After a few minutes, my young friend came back. "What do Jewish people do on Christmas, anyway?"

"I enjoy the silence," I told her.

"You like that?"

"Very much."

In reality, there are Jewish Christmas traditions. Jewish people, like other people, go to movies on Christmas day. I have a friend whose tradition is to see 3 movies every Christmas. What else is there to do? We have no compulsion to spend quality time with our families.

(In fact, my parents were married on Christmas Day, so you'd think we would be forced to do quality time, but that's not our tradition. As a child, we spent both Christmas and New Year's Day in the airport. They are excellent times to fly: there are few travelers, many seats, and no fare blackouts.)

But in fact, there is another Christmas tradition celebrated by Jews around the country, and it is this: we eat in Chinese restaurants.

No joke.

Think of it. The goyim, as we say, are otherwise occupied. The Chinese owners are often Buddhist and have no reason to close. Across America, Jewish families (those whose kashruth is sketchy or nonexistent) are enjoying fried rice and egg drop soup in virtually empty restaurants, where there is no waiting for tables, and the service is attentive and excellent.

This is no secret in the Jewish community. Anyone raised with the least snippet of assimilation, any Jewish kid whose family allowed them to eat in non-kosher restaurants, has enjoyed the warm hospitality of the Christmas Day Chinese feast. The snow falls gently outside. The TV above the bar plays only pleasant footage. The steam from the teapot wafts gently over the table. And we Jews escape the commercialism, the forced joviality, and the implication that our religion was hijacked some 2000 years ago. Through the grace of the open-on-Christmas Chinese restaurant, Jewish Americans experience the true meaning of Christmas.

Crispy egg rolls and fortune cookies.

Excuse me. Family togetherness.

Yum.