3 min read
Christmas, as we all know, puts in an early appearance at around the same time as we are dipping our apples into honey. Yep, September is when you can spot the first mince pies on our supermarket shelves, and, like it or not, by mid-November we've been subjected to the full onslaught of pretentious fragrance commercials on the telly and overpriced gift sets in the shops.
Well, I do happen to like it. As a Jew, I used to feel guilty about enjoying this time of year - after all, it's not my yomtov and there are enough of our own festivals dotted throughout the calendar to keep me stuck in the kitchen, cooking a selection of traditional delicacies. But I do get caught up in the yuletide merriment - it's all the food, you see.
I cannot understand why Jews shouldn't embrace Christmas cuisine with relish (or cranberry sauce, for that matter), as long as we keep it kosher. After all, our butchers are full of turkeys at the moment and our bakeries have stacks of mince pies alongside the challahs for Shabbat. With Christmas Day falling on a Friday this year, I do not see why turkey shouldn't grace our Friday-night tables instead of the ubiquitous roast chicken. (I always find it amusing that newspapers and magazines are filled with guides on how to cope with cooking a lunch for more than four people - Jews tend to cook en masse on a more regular basis. Dinner for eight won't have us panicking as to when to put our potatoes on!)
With food being so much a part of our religion and culture, I am all for adopting, albeit temporarily, our Christian friends' culinary traditions in the spirit of diversity. I quite like Christmas pudding, and with plenty of vegetarian options available in the shops, you can avoid treif suet and keep it kosher. Who cares if stollen - those tempting fingers of fruity cake filled with marzipan - really represents the baby Jesus wrapped in swaddling clothes?
I even have my suspicions that brandy butter was a Jewish invention. Who else could devise a food that furs up your arteries while getting you shicker at the same time?
We Jews may be a tiny minority in the UK, but we have, in the past, tried to foist our own culinary delights upon our non-Jewish brethren at this time of year. I was amused to discover that Rakusen's matzah - surely the most familiar symbol on many a Seder table - once promoted itself as "the alternative cracker" at Christmas. An advertisement in a food magazine depicted a family, complete with paper hats, seated around their Christmas table, which had magically morphed into a giant piece of matzah. A case, perhaps, of why is this Christmas dinner different from all other Christmas dinners?
Of course, it's not just the food we encounter that may cause concern for some Jews - it's everything that comes along with it. I draw the line at having a Christmas tree at home - that's a step too far - but I do enjoy seeing all the shimmering lights in the shops and I can even put up with the annual assault on my eardrums that is Slade.
You would have to be a real Grinch not to enjoy Christmas carols. Even though I went to a non-Jewish school (and kept my mouth resolutely shut whenever the words "Jesus" or "Christ" appeared in the lyrics) I sung carols along with everyone else and enjoyed the tunes. Who could fail to be moved by the Carol of the Bells' intricate harmonies? And while you may not agree with the sentiments voiced in Ding Dong Merrily on High, you cannot help but be buoyed up by its joyous melody.
It turns out I need not have felt guilty about loving carols, as I appear to be in good company. Back in 2011, the then Chief Rabbi, Lord Sacks, admitted that he felt "uplifted" by hearing Christmas carols, and if it's all right for him, I'll settle for that.
So I don't think we should worry too much about indulging in the odd mince pie or marzipan morsel. It's not going to jeopardise the future of the Jewish people. If there's one thing history has taught us, it's that, to paraphrase the Stephen Sondheim song, we're still here. And after we have tucked into all those Christmas goodies, we have the prospect of Easter, with its tempting chocolate eggs, looming on the far horizon. Usually Easter eggs are off the menu in my house as the festival always coincides with Pesach… but not next year. Bring on the Easter bunnies!
