This week marks the beginning of the Chanukah season. Aside from 2020 being a nightmare for socialization, thanks to a pandemic, for the first time ever I won’t be going to a family Chanukah party. I feel bad because I love my family, but it’s that exact love that makes it important to keep my distance. Especially now that I’m an essential worker, but I digress.
I mention this up in light of an article written for The New York Times by a queer woman named Sarah Prager. She mentions her passing, perhaps fleeting, experience with Chanukah growing up in an intermarried household, and how her passive observance of the holiday has done little to keep her invested nowadays. It’s sympathetic, but given that it doesn’t show much favourability for Judaism, I can’t help wondering why it was selected over other pieces. Then again, with an editorial section as hit-or-miss as The New York Times, perhaps I shouldn’t be surprised?
Fortunately, my concern isn’t isolated. The article managed to spark a conversation online amongst other Jews, myself included, leading me to wonder how much I identify with Chanukah myself. Let’s face it: Chanukah isn’t such a big holiday in Judaism. It’s not mentioned in The Torah, it has a passing mention in a book in the Tanach that isn’t canon, and most of its Halacha was codified in The Talmud; in fact, had it not been for Christmas, there’s a chance that the gentile world wouldn’t know of its existence. And while it’s a commercialized holiday, I wouldn’t put it at the high-end of personal favourites either.
But I’m in a minority. Having grown up with a somewhat-traditional background, though it’s grown stronger in recent years, my Jewish identity’s always been at the forefront of who I am. It’s no different than my disabilities, honestly. Being Jewish was never a question for me, it’s something that simply was. Even when I didn’t want it to be, which happened on occasion too.
I know that every experience is different, but being a Jew was always a no-brainer for me. Which is why I can’t wrap my head around why someone would abandon it out of disenfranchisement, even if they’re not personally invested. Because Judaism isn’t only empty ritual. And even atheists can find something in it if they dig deep enough.
I’m also confused as to why Judaism, particularly Chanukah, is considered embarrassing. Not only is it one of the holidays the non-Jewish world actually understands, but it’s also beautiful on its own. It was forced into existence by partisans risking their lives to fight the tyranny of an oppressor. Chanukah, essentially, is the Jewish-equivalent of The American Revolution, except without the military colonialism aspect. It’s also the holiday of the miracle of science, a small jug of oil partitioned and used over 8 days. It’s not exactly a “major” holiday, but it’s a “cool” one.
I know that every experience is different, but being a Jew was always a no-brainer for me. Which is why I can’t wrap my head around why someone would abandon it out of disenfranchisement, even if they’re not personally invested. Because Judaism isn’t only empty ritual. And even atheists can find something in it if they dig deep enough.
I’m also confused as to why Judaism, particularly Chanukah, is considered embarrassing. Not only is it one of the holidays the non-Jewish world actually understands, but it’s also beautiful on its own. It was forced into existence by partisans risking their lives to fight the tyranny of an oppressor. Chanukah, essentially, is the Jewish-equivalent of The American Revolution, except without the military colonialism aspect. It’s also the holiday of the miracle of science, a small jug of oil partitioned and used over 8 days. It’s not exactly a “major” holiday, but it’s a “cool” one.
Yet Chanukah represents something deeper too. More than beating the odds, or rededicating The Temple, it’s the holiday of reclaiming identity in the face of erasure. This is the one time where you get to wave your Jewishness in the face of those who’d state otherwise. This is your “get out of homogeneity free card”, and it’s unfortunate that that’s seen as bad. Especially considering how so many of our ancestors had to fight to keep it that way.
There are stories throughout history of Jews defying decrees to celebrate Chanukah. Perhaps the most-interesting one, in my mind, is in the Theresienstadt concentration camp, where Jewish prisoners would smuggle woodblocks, pieces of discarded rope and tallow into their barracks, carve a Menorah and, in fear of death, light Chanukah candles. That might seem passé given the examples of outward resistance, but it showed resilience of the Jewish spirit. So why throw that away, especially without appreciating it?
It’s not like I haven’t felt the pressure to assimilate or conform. I have. I remember when I first started wearing my Kippah full-time in high school, and I was urged to take it off on transit rides because my tics would invite unwanted questions. I refused, always feeling guilty for doing so. Even in later years, as I’d travel for work, I’d feel the urge sometimes to remove it and blend in. But I’d feel naked without it, so I never have. And while I’ve experienced Antisemitism because of it-one person accused me of trying to rape him because I wanted to sit next to him-I still feel more comfortable with it on.
There are stories throughout history of Jews defying decrees to celebrate Chanukah. Perhaps the most-interesting one, in my mind, is in the Theresienstadt concentration camp, where Jewish prisoners would smuggle woodblocks, pieces of discarded rope and tallow into their barracks, carve a Menorah and, in fear of death, light Chanukah candles. That might seem passé given the examples of outward resistance, but it showed resilience of the Jewish spirit. So why throw that away, especially without appreciating it?
It’s not like I haven’t felt the pressure to assimilate or conform. I have. I remember when I first started wearing my Kippah full-time in high school, and I was urged to take it off on transit rides because my tics would invite unwanted questions. I refused, always feeling guilty for doing so. Even in later years, as I’d travel for work, I’d feel the urge sometimes to remove it and blend in. But I’d feel naked without it, so I never have. And while I’ve experienced Antisemitism because of it-one person accused me of trying to rape him because I wanted to sit next to him-I still feel more comfortable with it on.
And it’s not only the Kippah. My daily prayers, which I find challenging for many reasons, keep me spiritually grounded. My dietary restrictions, which make it hard to find food in remote areas, have helped me learn to say no. And Shabbat, which limits my work availability, gives me a chance to relax and recharge. I’d never give any of that up.
So why’s it shameful to hold onto that? I understand being uncomfortable with Judaism and queerness, and I know people who struggle with that daily, but to toss it all out the window? And without appreciating its depth? Even with intermarriage, which is complicated, that Judaism isn’t even considered seems like a waste!
I guess, for me, Judaism isn’t a question so much as it simply is. That’s it. There’s no arguing around it, it’s there. And while it’s hard and sometimes taxing, no one ever said that anything worthwhile was easy.
So why’s it shameful to hold onto that? I understand being uncomfortable with Judaism and queerness, and I know people who struggle with that daily, but to toss it all out the window? And without appreciating its depth? Even with intermarriage, which is complicated, that Judaism isn’t even considered seems like a waste!
I guess, for me, Judaism isn’t a question so much as it simply is. That’s it. There’s no arguing around it, it’s there. And while it’s hard and sometimes taxing, no one ever said that anything worthwhile was easy.
That’s not necessarily bad! My openness about my roots has made me the source of intrigue around non-Jewish friends and co-workers. I’ve been bombarded with questions about X, Y and Z often, and sometimes I’ve been regarded as an authority despite lacking Rabbinic training. Not all of it’s been pleasant, I was once accused of being a “white colonizer”, but enough has that I don’t mind. And I’m equally as open to reciprocating that.
But maybe I’ve been blessed. I’ve had a certain level of privilege that comes with being an Ashkenazi Jew. And the worst of the Antisemitism I’ve received has either been occasional accusations of white supremacy, the odd person calling me a predator, or Twitter feuds over Israel. If that’s the worst of it, then maybe I’m the wrong person to be writing this.
Still, it’d be dishonest to write this off entirely. Prager not only discusses how Chanukah means nothing to her, but also that she doesn’t feel Jewish! Why publish that, when so many in her position would be willing to write about trying anyway? It’s counterproductive when your big piece for “The Holiday of Lights” involves snuffing out that fervour.
But maybe I’ve been blessed. I’ve had a certain level of privilege that comes with being an Ashkenazi Jew. And the worst of the Antisemitism I’ve received has either been occasional accusations of white supremacy, the odd person calling me a predator, or Twitter feuds over Israel. If that’s the worst of it, then maybe I’m the wrong person to be writing this.
Still, it’d be dishonest to write this off entirely. Prager not only discusses how Chanukah means nothing to her, but also that she doesn’t feel Jewish! Why publish that, when so many in her position would be willing to write about trying anyway? It’s counterproductive when your big piece for “The Holiday of Lights” involves snuffing out that fervour.
Nevertheless, if there’s one takeaway here, it’s that this is the wrong tone to set. I’m sure Prager meant well, and I don’t think she intended to start a controversy, but the end-result still feels like gaslighting. If Yaakov the Patriarch’s nickname, “Israel”, means “to wrestle with God”, then why isn’t that being stressed too? The New York Times could’ve used that angle and made as much of an impact there. If anything, it’d probably have been inspiring to see a little bit of Israel in an unaffiliated Jew!
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