If we celebrate Christmas, what do we lose?

Read: I choose to opt in for Christmas

I’ve had friends remark on this as strange —“but surely everyone ‘does’ Christmas,” said one bemused colleague recently, as I shook my head — but why should I? I don’t expect my non-Jewish brethren to forfeit bread for eight days, or dip apple into honey as summer turns to autumn.

As I explained to him, I don’t feel bereft. Chanukah offers the same seasonal joy, without nearly as much hassle. Gathered round the candles two weeks ago with four generations of family, I wouldn’t have swapped it for Christmas or for anything.

Yet increasingly, I feel like an outlier. I’ve noticed more and more Jewish friends celebrating Christmas, or at the very least marking what The OC’s Seth Cohen termed Chrismukkah. Plenty display trees besides their menorahs, or post Facebook photos of joyous family gatherings on December 25.

As I said, I’m no Grinch. Integration is something our community has always prided ourselves on. So if a Jew wants to give Christmas presents, why not? If you want to serve turkey and trimmings, go for it (this vegetarian would prefer a bagel, thank you). If you really want a “Chanukah bush”, it’s your carpet to worry about, not mine.

We live in a Christian country and Christmas is part of the fabric of society. I’ve heard of one Jew refusing to partake in Secret Santa; a Scrooge-like stance that seems closed-minded and churlish.

But for all that, is there is a tipping point? At what stage does Christmas Day become more important that Rosh Hashanah or seder night? Already I imagine there are more British Jews making merry in December than making cheesecake at Shavuot. How many of us know all the verses of the Twelve Days but would struggle to recite Hanerot halalu? We may not be going to midnight mass, but what about Simchat Torah?

And perhaps more pertinently, at what point do we lose our identity? For the more we adopt the customs of another faith, surely the less likely we are to hold on to our own.

So much of modern Jewishness is wrapped in with cultural traditions — the foods we eat, the family gatherings we convene, the jokes we tell, and especially the festivals we mark — as is similarly the case with Christianity in Britain. But if Judaism is to survive beyond the very observant, beyond the walls of the synagogue, we need to preserve those traditions over the coming generations.

We need to inspire our children that Chanukah is as jolly as Christmas, albeit that we lack Santa (or even an Armadillo, Ross’s attempt on Friends, to rival Santa), rather than something to endure before the real festive party gets started. We need to get them excited about our stories, not the three wise men, and about our songs, not just those played on a loop from November to New Year’s . They should crave our foods as well as, if not instead of, those associated with the “most wonderful time of the year”.

There will be plenty of Jews whose hybrid holiday traditions work well for them without diluting either, including those with partners or friends of other faiths. Nonetheless, there is a risk that “both” gradually gives way to “instead of”; that in moving Christmas up the priority ladder, Jewish traditions slip down.

So while I wish peace and joy to everyone, I won’t be putting up a Christmas tree, or hanging a stocking. I might sing along to Mariah, pull a cracker or two, but I won’t be “doing” Christmas. Why would I, when it’s only three months until Purim?