Searching for Bright Light on Chanukah in Hawaii

In the Northwest, it's common to hear complaints at this time of year about SAD. That's not only the emotion spurred by the lack of winter sunlight, but an actual psychological malady, Seasonal Affective Disorder, where depression interferes with sleep, performance and energy.

Those who work indoors in Seattle drive to their 8 am jobs in the dark and emerge at 5 to the same nighttime.  No wonder sun-simulators are so popular. I've got a light-box on my desk.

My search for bright light was happily rewarded this year when my husband and I were able to take a working-vacation to Hawaii, where the winter sunrise is at 7 and night comes at 6:30. Those extra 2 1/2 hours of sun make a huge difference.  So does aqua surf and temperatures around the clock between 70 and 80 degrees.

But seeking light has a deeper meaning tonight as the 8-day Jewish holiday of Chanuka begins.  Just as the winter equinox closes in, we begin an expansive celebration of light, specifically the menorah, which was a 7-flame oil candelabra that illuminated the ancient Temple in Jerusalem.

Yes, the "chanukiah," the candle holder for the holiday, has eight branches, one for each day of the holiday, plus a separate holder for the "helper" or shamus, that lights the others.  But the eight days of the holiday recall the miraculous amount of time that a small pot of undefiled oil kept the menorah going before new oil could arrive, once the Temple was re-dedicated, after banishing Greek gods and culture. The Temple having its special continuous light was so crucial that the menorah's ongoing glow is central to the holiday--and is the ultimate symbol of God's presence. It is because of this that the menorah is the emblem of the State of Israel.

But God's "enlightenment" is something we seek throughout the year.  Jews conclude our most central thrice-daily prayer by asking God to "bless us, our Father, all of us as one, with the light of your countenance, for with the light of your countenance you gave us, our God, the Torah of life, and a love of kindness, righteousness, blessing, compassion, life and peace."

That always strikes me--God gave us everything good that's non-material with the light of His countenance. Not with his words, though that's how He created the world. Not with his thinking, or waving some figurative arm, or sending some angel.  Not even by the look on His countenance--no, there's something special about light, in Hebrew, "ohr."

In the first Holy Temple, the seven-light, six-branched gold menorah was in a shape God dictated to Moses in Exodus 25: 31-40, with almond and knob decorations, and the branches turned toward the middle. The windows of the Temple, it's said, were backward, in that the spiritual light came from within and radiated outward, as opposed to normal windows, which let outdoor sunshine in.

So it is tonight, when we ignite the first of our Chanuka lights, allowing the brightness to emanate from within our homes to overcome the SAD of these darkest days. It's considered a gift that God tilted the earth to create seasons, to let us move from the dark months into the light, beginning with Chanuka, when, using "chinuch," education (the root of the word "Chanuka"), we improve ourselves as each subsequent day brings greater and greater daylight.

I'm searching for bright light here in Hawaii, and we'll attend a public menorah-lighting with others who understand that the holiday represents the triumph of insight over ignorance, and independent dedication to true principles over the ubiquitous and convenient messages of our feel-good culture.

Today the weather in paradise is blustery and rainy, so I'll appreciate all the more the clear sunshine when it reappears, and bask in the brilliance of this message of illumination--both the kind that can give me a tan and the kind that lights up a winter's night and a seeking soul.

Obamas Homogenize the Holidays

Pres. Obama is minimizing Chanuka and miniaturizing Christmas because he wants to religiously homogenize the world.  A New York Times piece about social secretary Desiree Rogers includes her reference to the first couples' desire for a "non-religious Christmas," to many minds an oxymoron.  Apparently there was debate about displaying the terra cotta and wood White House creche, an 18th Century carved wood gift from Mrs. Charles W. Engelhard, Jr. that's been on display in the East Room every Christmas since 1967.

As an aside...I've attended two Bush White House Chanuka parties, and the creche (left) was discretely removed for the occasions. The souvenir booklet about the White House given guests, however, describes it.  I doubt Jewish visitors would have disapproved of the nativity scene any more than the Christmas trees that filled every room, but the sensitivity was noted.

Is it that same sensitivity that drives Pres. Obama to want to make his first White House Christmas "non-religious"?  Or, is it a more disturbing agenda?

I maintain that this is a small step that figures neatly in his broader plan.

Pres. Obama was raised in a Muslim milieu, even if he was not actively Muslim, and he knows that the Peace Prize he’s junketing to Oslo to pick up is predicated on his trying to build a religiously neutral world. Despite his 20 years in the congregation of Rev. Wright, the point of which was to build up his cred in the black community, I doubt he believes Jesus is his savior. I'd say he thinks this holiday is an American tradition, and if he were to ignore it, he’d alienate a lot of people.

With a somewhat megalomaniacal desire to better humanity according to his personal world-view, his underlying purpose is to homogenize just about everyone and everything. Rich and poor must be equalized. Male and female, ditto. America and other nations, ditto. He’s taking it in steps: first downplay the holidays (even the celebrations of his most strident supporters) and ultimately make “The Season” a Unicef Card, with paz, pasques, peace, shalom, and the Arab equivalent floating equally around a scene of an arm-linked circle of people of many colors.

Social Secretary Desiree Rogers calls it the Obamas' "philosophy" of being "inclusive, diverse, representative of all Americans, celebratory, authentic."  But at Christmas time, "representing all Americans" is not "authentic."  Our nation was founded by and is populated mostly by Christians.  In 2009, 75% of Americans say they're Christian.  That figure is down ten percent from 1990, but pundits speculate that's because it's now more OK to tell a pollster "no religion" than it used to be, not because the panoply of religions in the nation has expanded.

This time of year, Jewish publications are filled with advice on resisting the Christmas flavor around us.  Truth is, Chanuka carries exactly that theme--Jews who embrace their religion know that the underlying message is loyalty to the Torah; the Festival of Lights celebrates the restoration of the Holy Temple to its traditional role in 165 B.C.E., in defiance of those who would assimilate into the Hellenistic culture. Anyone secure in his Judaism isn't threatened by a benign American Christian culture, and in fact our family appreciates the holiday lights, happy caroling, and the air of conviviality and charity that circulates in shopping centers and with the tinkle of the Salvation Army bell at the entrance of our grocery store.

We wish our neighbors Merry Christmas, and we wish the Obamas could do the same.

Soap Operas in Paradise

We just got back from our Hawaii vacation, during which time I did not turn on a computer, even to check my email. We had many memorable moments during our ten days away, including--don't tell!--a room fire from our Chanuka menorah, and my daughter falling two flights through a catamaran (nothing broken but lots of swelling and bruises). Even that excitement didn't compel me to touch a computer to describe the events to friends. I also didn't even keep up online with our Oahu neighbor, Barack Obama, who was visiting nearby Kailua. Nor did I search the web to find the facts about the island-wide power outage we endured on Shabbat. I didn't even check for photos of the amazing fireworks display on New Year's Eve that took my breath away as I sat on the sand with thousands of other revelers in this unique fireworks-obsessed island culture.

But one thing I could not tear myself away from during my absence: my addiction to the soap opera known as Bernie Madoff.

I have read everything I could get my hands on (and that's plenty) each day since the story of his $50 billion Ponzi scheme broke in the news on December 11. We get the Wall Street Journal and the New York Times as well as our local paper and USA Today. I pondered the connections between his family members and The Journal's family tree. I devoured the lists of victimized investors and institutions. I can't get enough of the sordid details, which include suicide (Thierry Magon de La Villehuchet), Hollywood (Steven Spielberg, Jeffrey Katzenberg), charities about which I care (Yeshiva University, Hadassa, Technion), international banking (Aozora in Japan; Medici in Switzerland) and fortunes made and lost--over a period of FORTY YEARS! The scope of the fraud; the personal emotional connections and the blatant lying--and acting!--involved scoops me in.

Bernie Madoff looks pretty fine as we see him walking the streets between 9 am and 7 pm near his home on East 64th Street in Manhattan (of course we all know why then; why there! And his wife surrendered her passport, poor thing!). And I suspect the reason Bernie, collar turned up beneath his baseball cap, wears that smirk: He'll ultimately be able to earn back what he lost, on probably the biggest best-seller ever penned. Whatta story.

And in the meantime--why, look at how many years he got to live the life! Citation X jet to fly to his Palm Beach estate...heck, to his yacht near his $7,000-per-night suite at the Hotel du Cap-Eden-Roc in Antibes, France!

Everyone seemed to think him a great guy, a modest, self-effacing, pleasant, and even altruistic guy. Who loved his family. His brother, sons, daughter-in-law, niece and wife were all in business with him. "What makes it fun for all of us is to walk into the office in the morning and see the rest of your family sitting there," said son Mark in a July 2000 interview with The Financial Technology Network. "That's a good feeling to have."

This, too, makes the soap opera compelling. Bernie supposedly revealed to his sons that there was nothing backing investments on December 10, at which point they turned him in--and refused to sign for his bond, and haven't spoken to him since. Is it possible that Bernie just smirked through forty years of deception even to the family with whom he surrounded himself?

So there I was on the beach in Waikiki. Luxuriating in the warm air, the squeals of happy children, the beauty of Diamond Head. And who should walk by unexpectedly but a couple who are our neighbors and friends! They were as pleased to see us there in paradise as we were to see them.

We started chatting--my husband wandering deeper into the surf with the husband, and the wife and I remaining where the waves splashed our knees. A glorious setting during the holiday of Chanuka. Respite from Seattle's frigid cold and piles of snow that nearly grounded our Hawaii-bound planes. Plenty to share, plenty in which to rejoice.

So what do we discuss? The Madoff affair. We're both obsessed. We compare updates. We finger our favorite suspects. We agree that Bernie is taking the fall for the rest of them since he's old with little future, and the sons can go on. We mourn losses by charities we support; I heard that Yeshiva University "only" lost 14 million instead of the $110 million it originally claimed. But what of the lost interest it was counting on? And Hadassa, who said they lost $90 million now says they really only invested $33 million...still, just think what that would have earned elsewhere. We can't stop ourselves. We're in Paradise, and like teens immersed in Twilight, we're sucked in by another type of vampire, one walking down Lexington in a baseball cap, smirking.

Got home right before Shabbat, with cooking and laundry and shopping to do; I still haven't checked my email (since December 22!), but along with a lovely, frigid day in Seattle, of Shabbat meals and Torah and settling in, I stole some time today to feed my little addiction and catch up on the latest juice on Madoff. Is he fueling anti-Semitism? How did this complicated scheme continue? Who else is impacted?

Is it bad for my character--for my soul--to be reading this stuff?

Yes, I'll fold the laundry, unpack my suitcase and even check my email. I'll upload the thousand photos I took on Oahu (perhaps even post one on the menorah fire)...all in good time. But first, um, maybe there's something new online?

A White House Chanuka Without Santa

When captioning the photos I took in the White House on my computer, I decided to refresh my memories by re-reading the souvenir booklet guests received as we departed the Chanuka reception last Monday night. "A Red, White and Blue Christmas: Holidays at the White House 2008" describes the decorations in the main rooms, illustrated in a charming children's-book watercolor style by Peter Catalanotto. I noticed two departures from the printed descriptions that I assume were made in deference to Jewish sensitivities.

In the East Room, the largest room in the White House, "a beautiful creche of terra cotta and carved wood figurines is displayed on the east wall," the booklet notes. "This treasured 18th-century Italian nativity scene, given to the White House by Mrs. Charles W. Engelhard, Jr., has been on display in the East Room every Christmas season since 1967." But not for the Chanuka party.

In fact, I realized that even kindly St. Nick was excused. We know that some Jews, notably members of Chabad, eschew the idea of saints so much they called my prior hometown S. Monica. And so, especially after the recent slaughter of the selfless Chabad emissaries in Mumbai, and with Chabad representatives coming early to "kasher" the White House kitchen for the preparation of the kosher repast, the jolly old elf vacated the premises.

This was especially noticeable on the "one-of-a-kind gingerbread house in the State Dining Room... [of] the southern view of the White House," according to the booklet. "Hundreds of pounds of chocolate, more than 150 gingerbread sheets and countless hours of hard work went into this masterful and delicious creation." The confection looked so sturdy that at first I thought it to be a wooden yule miniature, with its figures of the Old Guard Fife and Drum Corps marching in front. On top, a white sleigh, led by eight cookie reindeer, was about to land on the roof. And who was commanding the reins? Well, for the Jewish event, its "mascots," little chocolate replicas of pets Barney, Miss Beazley and Willie, had earned a promotion. Santa was nowhere to be seen.

I would not have been at all offended to find Mr. Claus in his vehicle (which, after all, doesn't rely on foreign oil) or even to see the creche, which clearly has historical significance even if it holds no religious meaning for me. I'm not one to say "Happy Holidays" when "Merry Christmas" is the more proper greeting for someone. And in a home where the occupants are Christian, I respect and appreciate their artistry and enjoyment in expressing the beauty of their holiday, which, after all, centers on the birth of Jesus, their Christ, their savior. We were in the midst of dozens of Christmas trees, glittering with colored balls and lights and garlands. While the adjustments to two of their decorations was out of courtesy, greatly appreciated, I do think all who attended would have felt just as honored were they in their usual places.

An additional gift to guests was a copy of President Bush's Hanukkah Greeting (his spelling) that says, "During the eight-day celebration of Hanukkah, we remember the ancient struggle for freedom. More than 21 centuries ago, a cruel tyrant ruled Judea and forbade the Israelites from practicing their religion. A small band of brothers called the Maccabees came together to liberate their land and reclaim the Holy Temple."

Well, it was a bit more complicated than that...including the fact that the battle was even more a civil war between those Jews who would assimilate into the Hellenistic culture, and those who defended God's laws. It was less a "struggle for freedom" than a stand against "tolerance" and "diversity" in favor of adherence to a Torah that was decidedly different and not very elastic. Also, while Judah, of the priestly Hasmonean clan, son of the Hasmonean leader Mattathias, was called "Maccabee" (which means "hammer"), we also learn that the Hebrew letters spelling Maccabee, mem chaf bet yud, inscribed on his shield, were an acronym for the phrase "mi chamocha eilim hashem," which means, "Who among all gods is like You?"

We also received a beautiful copy of the President's remarks to the members of the Israeli Knesset, delivered May 15, 2008. If you haven't read this excellent speech, you should.

Tonight is the second night of Chanuka. We lit our menorahs (one per member of our family) in the window of our den, where (theoretically, at least) neighbors for several miles who look up to the hill on which we live could see the candles burning, publicizing the miracle that God not only gave the Jews the Torah, but continued to honor His covenants to sustain the Jewish people and prevent their extinction. The miracle of Chanuka, the light on the darkest days of the year, reminded Jews through generations of persecution that God will rescue them. And we, so privileged to live in this greatest nation on God's green earth, must remember what saved them and will sustain us--resolute determination to pursue God's will.

I don't think we'll be invited to another White House Chanuka party for awhile, but at least this time I captured some of it in photos, and certainly vividly in my mind. We're headed out of snowy Seattle for a few days; not exactly a vacation since my husband will be working, but for us a long-anticipated family time and, oh yes! some sunshine! To my Jewish friends, Chanuka Sameach! And to my Christian friends, a very Merry Christmas!

Moved to Tears: "Am Yisroyel Chai" in the White House

Time to flip over all the cards about the crowning event of the White House Chanuka party. I've got lots more observations, but I want to share with you something that brought tears to my eyes and joy to my heart.

My son and I watched with pleasure as the Marines Orchestra performed specially-prepared Chanuka medleys, all the traditional songs. They also roused us with a clip-clop, neeeeigh! version of Sleigh Ride, as well as several classical selections. At the end of the evening, as the uniformed Marines who were the White House hosts herded attendees toward the exits, the orchestra concluded with some lively Jewish music that started women dancing the hora in a circle. Traditionally, men and women dance separately, at weddings sometimes so frenetically that the entire room smells of Eau de Perspiration and revelers are wiping their wet countenances with startched cloth napkins.

As the women danced joyously, they were overtaken by the men, led by, among others, my son. The music reached its crescendo and applause...but then the men took over, singing and dancing words that touched me, right there in the White House: "Am Yisroyal chai!" "L'Shana ha ba Yerusalayim!" The Jewish people LIVE! Next year in Jerusalem! The simcha (joy) with the women clapping time and the men jumping and whirling reminded me just how blessed we are in America, the land founded on ideas, primary among which is love and closeness to God. Here's my little video of the beginning of the dancing...

The White House Chanuka celebration I wasn't Invited to...

Click here for the White House video of the ceremony preceding the Chanuka party I attended. President Bush celebrates the 60th Anniversary of the creation of the State of Israel as well as Chanuka with a little speech. Then the menorah is lit, with a symbolic blessing (since Chanuka won't begin until Sunday night) by the grandsons of President Truman, who received the menorah, and Israel's first prime minister Ben-Gurion. This was indeed the menorah that I took pictures of...and because it has squat little candles inside glass holders, assumed was lit by electricity! Oops!
You'll also hear the group Kol Zimra, with my friend Sam Glaser (the tall guy on the far right in the video). After an interesting event I'll describe in my post tomorrow, my son was asked to join the group! You can read the text of President Bush's remarks (which were distributed to guests, including us, at party's end) here.

Mr. Bush was the first and only President to host a White House Chanuka reception. A topic of discussion with fellow party-goers was whether President-elect Obama will continue the annual event. Most of those to whom I spoke thought he'd have to--but then does that mean there will be an annual Muslim holiday event, too? How about a plaque-presentation by the atheists dissing all religious observances (like we have in our Washington state capitol)? Or will Obama, who has in the past said he favors dividing Jerusalem, choose not to honor America's friendship with Jews and Israel?

By the way, the spelling of Chanuka in English is a phonetic approximation of the Hebrew word, so whatever spelling you like, works. I use the "Ch" to represent the throat sound of the letter Chaf. Some people don't even bother with that non-English sound and just use an "H". I have no idea why some spellings have a double "k."

Chanuka in the White House

Just got back from my whirlwind trip to DC for the President's Chanuka party. So quick it seems like a dream. I'm always amazed and awed that we can step into a metal tube, sit down with a book, a newspaper or just a blow-up neck pillow and emerge in just a few hours on the other side of the country.

I'll post more later, but I gave much thought to my golden moments of conversation with the President. Realizing that I was there not really because of what I've done, but because of my husband's accomplishments, I first said that he regretted that his book tour kept him from attending. I said the name of the new book, and the President lit up and replied, "I've got to get a copy; I want to read that book!" and asked how my husband was. After my son shook his hand, the President told him, "Your father's a good man!" I then added that I wanted to thank him for keeping our nation safe since 9-11. He was most gracious. As was Mrs. Bush, who took my hand in both of hers, and looked me in the eye--not a perfunctory pass, but a pause, as I told her "Thank you Mrs. Bush; I appreciate all you do." She thanked me and said "Happy Chanuka." I remember during the photo that the President had his arm loosely behind my back--and so I (awkwardly, without touching, really,) reached behind his, thinking I might be making a faux pas.

It seemed this time that the guests dressed a bit less formally (I'll admit it: I wore the same outfit I wore last time, but with comfy shoes) and that the buffets laid on tables in several rooms were a bit less lavish than the first Chanuka party I'd attended in 2006. Not that the occasion was diminished by it--but I thought, perhaps incorrectly, that this might be a small acknowledgement of the economic situation.

Rather than the four types of latkes (small veggie pancakes) we enjoyed last visit, this time there was just traditional potato-onion, each the size of a half-dollar. In case you're interested, the rest of the main course buffet included: rolled slices of lox, the most delicious white flaky fish, small riblets from lamb (I was told) with the meat pushed down to one end (no knives were offered, so I supposed we were to eat the meat off by lifting bone to lip), some kind of sliced beef (brisket?), and rolled stuffed slices of white meat turkey. There was a veggie and lettuce salad, and a grilled vegetable tray with olives.

One cannot complain about such a generous spread at the White House. At the dessert tables, there were chocolate truffle balls, small fruit tarts, tiny sufganiot (doughnuts, filled with custard rather than the traditional jelly), a chocolate-frosted white cake, and tiered tray of various cookies. Now you know the entire repast. My memory was of waiters bringing tray after tray to replace depleted tables throughout the 2 1/2 hour event.

The White House was decorated in its Christmas finery. The theme was "a red, white and blue Christmas," though wouldn't that always be de rigeur? In the center of Blue Room was a huge tree with fat ornaments representing each state; in the other halls, and we had free roam of about six large rooms upstairs, were other live trees more modestly attired in bows or round glass balls. Holly garlands were everywhere; red velvet ribbons and holiday trinkets in every nook.

Music was beautifully supplied first by a 20-voice men's acapella choir called Kol Zimra (among whom was popular singer Sam Glaser, a friend of ours) and then by the excellent Marines Orchestra; they each performed every traditional Chanuka piece in the repertoire.

I did think it odd (as I did on my first visit) that for a Chanuka party, the tables were festooned with red tablecloths and small fir or topiary trees with glass ornaments. Though Mr. and Mrs. Bush both wore blue, the rest of the environment was completely in Christmas colors. The only nod to the occasion in the decor was a small silver menorah on a windowsill, and a larger one with all "candles" ablaze (with electric lights) in the oval entry at the top of the stairs. Our friend Sam told us that prior to the party, in a small reception where his group entertained, the President and Mrs. Bush presided over a "menorah lighting" by the grandsons of David Ben-Gurion, Israel's first prime minister (Clifton Truman Daniel and Yariv Ben-Eliezer), who together lit a menorah given by their grandfather to President Truman. This was clearly symbolic--Chanuka doesn't start until Sunday night.

As you can see, I did bring my camera, though I stupidly left my spare battery behind. I've got some surprises about the evening yet to share...but it's quite late and I've got to get my son to school early...

What Should I Say to the President?

I was hoping this might come through--an invitation to the White House! THAT White House, the one soon to be occupied by Barack and Michelle.

The Bushes are hosting a Chanuka party next week, and I'll be there, with my son as my escort (my husband being busy on book tour).

This is not the first time President and Laura have invited me--two years ago my husband and I excitedly attended the Chanuka festivities, an evening that now in my mind is the kind of twinkly blur that children carry of the glint of glass balls and sparkle of tinsel that comprises the essence of December magic.

Last time, however, I made a couple of mistakes. Firstly, I decided to take the advice of my fashion-forward teen daughter and borrow her very high-heeled shoes. Little did I know the amount of walking one needs to do from the security checkpoint up the long drive to the imposing columned porch, down the receiving hallway and into the inner sanctum of the living quarters. I was not only wobbling, but shortly, limping, the ill-fitting pumps slipping off my heels. I was in pain while being serenaded by a military orchestra, and tottering between room-length buffets of kosher delicacies, the likes of which I'd never fathomed, despite years of Passover resort getaways. (Most vivid in my mind were the tables of pastries so intricately assembled, petits-four drawn with Stars of David or dreidls or other mini-artworks, swirled with chocolate or raspberry or whipped cream so sculpted you'd think it had to be fake.)

My second mistake was in thinking that security would surely prohibit visitors from bringing in their cameras--so I left mine in my hotel. Wrong, wrong, wrong. While other guests were happily snapping photographic remembrances of each heirloom ornament and thrilling encounter with friends and dignitaries, I internally fumed, mentally kicking myself with pointed, painful stiletto at every glimpse of another once-in-a-lifetime-seen artifact, or introduction to someone I'd previously only read about in the newspaper.

Each couple or guest could line up for a photo with the President and First Lady, and the preceding moments allowed a personal greeting and a few exchanged words with the POTUS. Such an opportunity! As I stood in queue, inching forward, adrenaline rising, I kept revising what I would say. "Thank you for all you do for Israel and the Jewish people" was far too unoriginal. "We appreciate you," way too obvious. When it was finally my turn, Mr. Bush took my hand, I looked him in the eye and...what did I say? "Please come to us for Shabbat! We'd be honored if you and Mrs. Bush would come to our home for a Sabbath meal."

I instantly felt very stupid.

To my relief, he not only smiled, but said yes, he'd like to do that. Perhaps when he's got more free time, after January 20, he'll fulfill that acceptance. And now I've got a chance not only to remind him, but to schedule it.

Um, probably not. However, I better start planning what I'm going to say when I see President and Mrs. Bush at the Chanuka party, right now. Any suggestions?

"It's Beginning to Look A Lot Like...Uh-Oh"

It's almost 8 am and the sky is beginning to lighten. Among the gray clouds are streaks of apricot as the sun struggles to illuminate the landscape. I just drove my son to school, and on the way home I happened to hear on the radio the cheery seasonal song "It's Beginning to Look a Lot Like Christmas," written by Meredith Willson in 1951 and recorded by Perry Como (above) and the Fontaine Sisters in the same year. It was charming. It was moving in its sweetness.

Why, in the back of my head was there an echo with every pronunciation of the word, a distortion I've heard used by Jews, "Krist-mach"? Should I feel guilty for enjoying the song so much that when I pulled into my driveway, I sat there an extra 20 seconds to hear Perry's "buh-buh-boo" voice, with the Fontaine Sisters' three part harmony, conclude to sprightly orchestral accompaniment,

" It's beginning to look a lot like Christmas
Soon the bells will start
And the thing that will make them ring
Is the carol that you sing
Right within your heart."?

Normally, as you can tell by the front seat and floor of my car littered with cassette tapes, I listen to shiurim while driving. If I'm in a musical mood, I favor Yehuda! (exclamation mark is part of his name) or CD collections made by my children with my largely Jewish music taste in mind. Between noon and three, I'm tuned to a particular talk radio show that combines politics and pop culture. How did my dial find itself where it could expose me to Perry and the Fontaines?

It could be the seductive pull of nostalgia for a time when the lyrics of Willson's ditty were accepted everywhere in our country:

It's beginning to look a lot like Christmas
Ev'rywhere you go
Take a look in the five-and-ten,
Glistening once again
With candy canes and silver lanes aglow

It's beginning to look a lot like Christmas
Toys in ev'ry store
But the prettiest sight to see
is the holly that will be
On your own front door

A pair of hopalong boots and a pistol that shoots
Is the wish of Barney and Ben
Dolls that will talk and will go for a walk
Is the hope of Janice and Jen
And Mom and Dad can hardly wait for school to start again

It's beginning to look a lot like Christmas
Ev'rywhere you go
There's a tree in the Grand Hotel,
One in the park as well
The sturdy kind that doesn't mind the snow

It's beginning to look a lot like Christmas
Soon the bells will start
And the thing that will make them ring
Is the carol that you sing
Right within your heart

What? You mean your OWN "five and ten" is "glistening once again with candy canes and silver lanes aglow?" Could there actually STILL be a tree in the Grand Hotel and a sturdy one in the park, in this day of Christopher Hitchens and Richard Dawkins and Michael Neudow's crusade to strike "Under God" and "In God We Trust" from the Pledge and our currency?

Why, yes.

I was enjoying a conversation yesterday about the holiday-time dilemma with a highly respected Israeli Orthodox rabbi. He confessed that he shared my appreciation for America's expressions of the season because during this otherwise dark time, strangers share a bond of good cheer. Curmudgeons aside, people are more kindly, more generous, more friendly in "the spirit of Christmas." And fortunately for us in this great nation, that effervescence of joy extends to the Jewish community.

We comprise less than 2% of the populace, and yet nearly every store in urban areas has a small Chanuka section. Articles about the season respectfully include Christmas, Chanuka, and in the last twenty years, the (absurd, made-up...don't get me started) holiday of Kwaanza. If there were a Moslem holiday that stayed in December (their lunar calendar has no "leap month" correction so their holidays drift around the year), you can bet media would give it the nod as well. I do not take this for granted. Naomi Wolf is currently promoting her new book, "The End of America," in which she insists that George Bush is systematically accomplishing the "ten steps" she claims took Germany to Nazism. Somehow the comparison of our president to Adolf Hitler seems too fringy to be taken seriously, but to hear her on the air frantically warning Americans that we're on the verge of martial law, one does pause to evaluate the scene.

Thank God, the scene is beginning to look a lot like Christmas. Carolers in Dickensian garb sing harmonies in shopping malls where shoppers toting red and green bags join in and applaud appreciatively. My neighborhood is twinkling with color, which, happily was still illuminating the darkness as I drove my son to school. The other day, a ladies' group I'm in enjoyed our "holiday tea" where red was the wardrobe color of choice, and we Jews ate our certified kosher grilled chicken lunch with our Christian friends in a hall with two lavishly ornamented evergreens and sparkling wreathes the size of Mack Truck tires.

And then I came home, and a few hours later, lit our menorah with my family, and while Maor Tsur, the story of religious Jews' victory over Hellenism, was the heartily voiced melody in the air, I did notice the tinkle of those seasonal bells starting to ring from the carol in my heart.

Latkes and Sounds of the Season

'Tis the season of joy--and I'm happy I'm sane!

I was busy making 150 latkes, a daunting task, with four frying pans crackling oil around the piles of potatoes. As I was transferring some crispy pancakes onto the cookie sheet to be warmed tomorrow for our Chanuka party, I thought I was hallucinating.

I heard what sounded to be a small boy singing.

My son was sleeping on the couch nearby. He had indeed been known to talk in his sleep....but now that he's hit puberty and his voice has changed, how could he be singing like a child? I thought my mental age was skyrocketing. I thought somebody slipped something into my soy "Nog."

Then I realized: The Christmas Ship! Every year, the Argosy cruise company, the one that ferries tourists to islands in Puget Sound and around Lake Washington, strings a large ship stem-to-stern with white lights and a huge white star. Each evening until December 23, blasting the voices of carolers, it glides with a colorfully-lit flotilla to different ports of call, where it anchors while the singers give a 20 minute concert. Many of its stops feature bonfires, and Starbucks offers free coffee drinks to all who come for the festivities.

Tonight, as I fried up my dozens of latkes, the Christmas Ship anchored at Clam Lights at Coulon Park. Though the park is about three miles across Lake Washington, I jumped up, grabbed my parka and binoculars, and let my slippers soak up the puddles on the patio. The harmonies were beautiful, though rather distorted over the distance. The ships illuminated the black span of water, and when the announcer thanked the event sponsors--all proceeds from passengers' rides go to charity--I heard a strong cheer.

Sounds of the season had blended with the snap of Chanuka oil. As the ship departed, its music fading up-lake, it was nice to know I was sane after all. And all I could think was, "Aren't we lucky to live in a place like this?"

Can a Jew Enjoy Christmastime?

I have a confession to make: I like Christmastime.

I'm a Jew through-and-through, and I love Chanuka--as well. This year it starts Tuesday night, quite a bit earlier than the other holiday. We'll have our annual white-elephant-exchange game at our party the first night, planned for that evening so my sorority daughter can then buckle-down in study for her quarter's-end finals that start the following week. Our party with its latkes and sufganiot and many games is a tradition we all love, and many of her sorority sisters will be joining the fun. We put up twinkling white lights and signs and blue and silver garlands. Last year, a monsoon windstorm hit the day before, meaning our entire party was by candlelight and guests kept their coats on in our 30-degree home. The blackout lasted eight days for us...just like Chanuka, and that storm was dubbed by the media, "the Chanuka eve windstorm."

But I still like Christmastime. I like the carols (not their lyrics, except for their message of peace and goodwill to men) and the glitter and bustle and smiles and the Salvation Army Santa bell-ringers to whom I always give a dollar. When I'm in New York, I like the fantasy moving store displays and Bryant Park ice rink and Rockefeller Center. Here in the Northwest, I like the carousel in Westlake Plaza, the nightly drummers and lightshow at Bellevue Square, Tacoma's amazing Zoolights animals, and the Bellevue Botanical Garden's astounding flowers made entirely from lights (above). Though I'm kosher, I love Coulon Park's Clamlights, sponsored by local restaurant icon Ivar's, the motto of which is, "Keep Clam." I can see that display in miniature across Lake Washington from my home, its huge cottonwood trees festooned top-to-bottom with strings of lights.

I like returning a "Merry Christmas" to checkers at Target. I like seeing eager children lined up at the mall for their moment on Santa's lap, and their equally pleased parents enjoying their little ones' anticipation. I squeal with delight when I see beautiful light displays on homes, "OOOOH! Beautiful!" And I used to enjoy the sparkles and glimmers on the Christmas trees at Seatac Airport.

Now the story gets complicated. Some in the Jewish world feel that because the entire purpose of Chanuka is to distinguish us as Jews who follow the Torah from our surrounding culture-- hearkening back to the defiled Temple in Jerusalem that Maccabean fighters seeking to restore God's law regained from Hellenistic, assimilationist Jews --we ought to completely withdraw from the Christian holiday around us. That would preclude appreciating seasonal carols, or viewing outdoor light displays, or wrapping gifts for non-Jews in red-and-green paper.

Last year, in an unfortunate misunderstanding, it appeared some Jews were offended by the traditional green Christmas tree display at Seatac Airport. The brouhaha caused the permanent removal of that decor, replaced this year, ironically, by silver-sprayed bare tree branches. No one can object to the theme of cold, leafless winter.

Now, I wouldn't consider any decorations at my own house that smack of Christmas. I wouldn't even come close--no holly, no fir wreath, no colored lights--because we are firmly and unequivocally Jewish and I would feel uncomfortable with them. And by providing my children a Jewish education, and living as Torah-observant Jews every day of the year, they have internalized a Jewish identity and are not at risk of confusion.

Without a Jewish life--daily prayer, eating kosher, Shabbat and yom tov, constant learning, watching us strive in our Torah knowledge--there might be an issue. They know the purpose of Chanuka, the root of which is "chinuk," education, but that also means "dedication," as the Temple was re-dedicated to its Godly purpose. With that basis, they can bring their friends to our Chanuka party, sharing with them our traditions. And at the same time, they can join me in thrilling to the beautiful light displays and musical performances and feelings of cheer that emanate in the larger culture.

There's lots of beauty in this dark time of year, especially with our "Festival of Lights." On Tuesday night, I'll once again use the heirloom menorah that my mother-in-law's parents spirited out of Nazi Germany among the very few possessions they escaped with. I will joyfully sing Maor Tzur with my husband and two of my three children (missing my absent daughter on that day especially!) and serve my home-made latkes with sour cream and applesauce.

I do not think it detracts from Chanuka, however, to enjoy as an outsider, the sights, sounds and happiness of the majority religion. For me, the ability to fully engage in Jewish life is primary--but the secondary colors and celebration that uplifts and reminds my neighbors of God--enhance this otherwise dreary time of year.

As I write, rain pelts onto my window, as it has all day. Over Shabbat, we had three inches of snow, fat flakes flying in a blustery breeze that gave way in the early morn to warmer drops pinging the skylights. We're supposed to get some more strong winds tonight as the storm becomes more fierce...I can only hope we retain our electric illumination on Chanuka eve this year as we add the spiritual component with the oil of our menorah.