An Adopted Tradition
Amy L. Bernstein
I was like a kid on Christmas morning, sneaking downstairs early in my bathrobe to get a fresh peek at the tree and all the shiny presents wrapped in gold, blue, green, and striped paper heaped high underneath. But I wasn’t a kid: I was all grown up, newly married, and experiencing Christmas for the first time in my life.
Since I’m Jewish, my family never had a holiday tree, let alone all the tinsel and trimmings that go along with it. We received Hanukkah presents — sometimes — as a token gesture toward the season. But Christmas just wasn’t a thing in our house. Instead, we went out for Chinese food.
As a kid, I wanted my dose of the holiday magic. So every year, I went to my friend Ruth’s house, where I learned to string popcorn for her family tree, and — my favorite — sing carols that we played on her family’s piano. The one I loved best, for some reason, was O Tannenbaum. I still love that melody and the alto harmony too. In fact, I love all the Christmas carols and I’ve relished all the years I sang in various choirs, belting them out on stage — and sometimes, in the street.
As much as I enjoyed “borrowing” Christmas from a friend, I never expected to make it part of my own tradition. As I was getting to know my husband’s family — who are also Jewish — I was initially shocked to learn that they celebrated Christmas. You mean, with a real tree? I asked. I was truly taken aback. But I had no idea what I was in for.
My Jewish mother-in-law absolutely adores Christmas. Her tree is gorgeous every year. It drips with exquisite little carved birds, glass orbs, twinkling lights, and dozens of miniature works of art. She blasts Handel’s Messiah beginning on Christmas Eve, then plays it again on Christmas Day. And the radio remains tuned all day to the classics — every carol ever written, followed by more Messiah. (I realize Handel wrote this oratorio for Easter, but hey, you can’t fight tradition.)
And then there is Christmas dinner: turkey and goose, at least two kinds of potatoes, and three kinds of pie. This part was never a stretch: If there’s one thing Jews know, it’s food. Through friends of my husband’s family, I was introduced to baccala, the salted cod dish that is part of the Italian Feast of the Seven Fishes on Christmas Eve. I love it. I even like fruit cake — in small doses.
I’ve been at this now for over 30 years. It’s fair to say that I get Christmas. Our daughter has grown up with the non-religious side of the holiday and I suspect she’ll bake it into her own family traditions, someday.
Time has taken family members and friends away from our Christmas dinner table. And the pandemic is a harsh minimalist in 2020. But part of me will always be that kid masquerading as an adult, sneaking downstairs in the house my husband grew up in, eager to unwrap my very first Christmas present.
Thank you for being a part of Santa Watch 2020! Keep reading as we track Santa and giveaway special gifts.
About Amy L. Bernstein
Amy L. Bernstein writes about the intersection of politics and culture for the stage and the page. Selected short plays are published by Routledge and Leicester Bay Theatricals, and short fiction by Flying Ketchup Press. She is a 2014 recipient of a Ruby Artist Award from the Greater Baltimore Cultural Alliance. Amy has also received regional and national awards for journalism and nonprofit communications. She lives and writes in Baltimore, MD.
Keep an eye out for Amy’s upcoming release, Ell.
