This Season, Let's Choose Joy

This Season, Let’s Choose Joy

Zach Benjamin | Chief Executive Officer, Jewish Long Beach

It seems that each season of Jewish celebration coincides with observances of various non-Jewish religious and secular traditions. As we transition away from the High Holy Days, for instance, many throughout the Western world – and especially the youngest among us – look forward to Halloween, with Thanksgiving in the United States following shortly thereafter. Similarly, the timelines of Jewish and Christian texts overlap, causing Passover to often coincide with Easter. Of course, the highest profile example of this confluence of cultures occurs each December, when a wide variety of holidays take place throughout an intensive month of celebration.

As Jews living in Diaspora, we continuously seek the balance between preservation of our Jewish traditions and adoption of local ones. I have previously written in this space and others that adaptation is as integral to our Jewish DNA as the covenant of brit milah (bris) or the Yom Kippur fast. The Jews of Ming- and Qing-era China, for instance, designed the physical spaces of their sanctuaries to resemble local Confucian temples, in addition to adopting other Chinese cultural characteristics, thus ingratiating themselves with local communities and earning the trust of dynastic authorities. Their traditions and practices, however, remained quintessentially Jewish, and so their Jewish community survived for centuries among the Confucian majority.

Similarly, the thriving B’nai Israel Jews of Mumbai, as well as the B’nai Menashe of Northeast India lead unmistakably Jewish lives, and yet they are also distinctly Indian in their dress, language, and other day-to-day practices.

The Jewish Diaspora communities that have found success among majority cultures with longer histories than our American one have long embraced the need to adapt in order to survive. As Jewish Americans, we are engaged in robust deliberation over exactly how we define and navigate our own tactical adaptations.

For instance, most of us raised in culturally Jewish, less religiously observant households count among our fondest childhood memories the annual tradition of donning a Halloween costume and walking our neighborhoods in search of vast quantities of sweet treats that, in many cases, would last us well into January and beyond. Yes, Halloween’s roots run deep through ancient Pagan traditions and other distinctly non-Jewish ritual sources. However, I would argue that, in 21st-century United States, Halloween is no more at odds with Jewish values than is Thanksgiving, which Americans of all religious and cultural backgrounds rightly embrace, and which at its inception centuries ago certainly drew inspiration from Christian texts and Native American observances.

Our children deserve to experience the season without fretting that the joy and goodwill of the holidays might stand at odds with their Jewish identity.

The question of to what extent, if any, we might embrace “Christmas culture” is a trickier one. Each year, this “December dilemma” compels us to practice intentionality in how we and our children experience this festive time of year. Hanukkah is by no means the Jewish Christmas. While it is certainly an important milestone on the Hebrew calendar, it is not nearly as central to the Jewish historical and religious canon as Christmas is to Christianity. Nonetheless, Hanukkah’s elevation to the primary tier of highly commercialized December holidays has, at least in the Western world, created among Jews the impression that we occupy a seat at the proverbial holiday table. Thus, our children, too, deserve to experience the season without fretting that the joy and goodwill of the holidays might stand at odds with their Jewish identity.

That said, no secular school, workplace, or other non-religious institution should force any person to participate in any tradition that is inconsistent with her or his values or identity. This is where the line must remain between inclusion and assimilation. In many cases, the exact location and definition of that boundary is deeply personal, varying from family to family and individual to individual. However, in every case, it must be respected.

The Orthodox and liberal Jewish perspectives differ slightly on this topic, and neither is wrong. They simply represent two differing, nuanced philosophies in a Diaspora setting with space enough for a vast spectrum of religious observance and interpretation. Jewish Long Beach, as the agency fulfilling the functions of both a JCC and Jewish federation, serves the broadest possible Jewish population within the 15 municipalities that comprise our catchment area. Indeed, Orthodox prayer and religious school take place under our roof, as do yoga classes and basketball clinics. Those walking our halls in December will notice that the imagery we evoke in our spaces is almost exclusively inspired by Hanukkah. However, visitors to our campus will also hear our members and guests greeting each other with a wide variety of holiday wishes, which is befitting the remarkable diversity of those who use our facility.

This season, as always, my family will light the Hanukkiah, and our personal observances will remain firmly within the traditional Jewish experience. This is a boundary that we choose to set for ourselves in service to ensuring that our Jewish character remains distinctive. However, I also look forward to the season elevating my family’s and my spirit with the buoyancy of so many coinciding celebrations. I am eager to wish our Christian friends, neighbors, and colleagues a merry Christmas, and I hope that this special time is meaningful and memorable for all.

All of us at Jewish Long Beach and the AJCC wish you and yours a happy Hanukkah and a joyful holiday season, however you choose to experience it.