I am a bad Jew. If it isn't proof enough that I am confident some of you will read this and think "She's Jewish?" all you have to do is see me when a plate of bacon is placed in front of me. I eat pork, I have a deep love for cheeseburgers, I go out partying on a Friday night instead of going to shul and, possibly worst of all, I celebrate Christmas.
I recall when David, the only other Jew I know here, found out about this. It was at quiz last week, and when I heard that there was a round on Christmas carols, I grabbed the paper out of his hand and a smile of glee spread over my face - this was a round that I could do. I caught the look on David's face and the smile on mine faded slightly. He looked appalled, as though the words "BAD JEW!" were about to come out any minute. I didn't let it get to me though. I have a relationship with Christmas, and it is a special one that no amount of judging can break.
You see, though my immediate family is Jewish (though again, not a very good bunch of Jews - where do you think I get my bacon addiction from?), my mother converted before my sister and I were born, so her side of the family are Catholic. This meant that we celebrated Christmas every year when I was growing up. I still remember hanging the decorations on the Christmas tree at Granny Ellen's house, eating her homemade mince pies (fruit mince for those who don't know better) and the butter cookies in the shapes of Christmas trees. Of course, all of those memories are from when I was very young, before Granny Ellen and Grandad moved into the retirement village, shortly before Granny stopped baking and long before they moved into the frail care centre. After they moved into the retirement village, Christmas became a little less festive and just involved a Christmas lunch shared between my Mom and uncle - one year Ashley would host it, the next year we would. There was no run-up to Christmas anymore, but at least the day itself was spent with family. Each year, the lunches became less fun than the last as we shouted across the table to Grandad who couldn't hear us even with his hearing aid or tried to talk to Granny who would just nod even though her hearing aid was off and she couldn't hear a word we were saying. It came to an all-time low last year, when Granny didn't even have the energy to get out of bed and come to the lunch, and it just ended up being Grandad, who could hardly eat anything, watching us all with a wide-eyed confused look on his face. Yes, I have a history with Christmas. And when Granny and Grandad passed away in March, I knew (even then) that Christmas was never going to be the same again.
Two weeks before Christmas, I didn't have any plans. I had been planning on going skiing, but that fell through. I had been hoping to spend it with Jess, but that wasn't seeming likely. And then I spoke to Shaina, who assured me that I would be welcome to come to the dinner that she was putting together, and a few days before the event itself, Chanel decided to host a breakfast at her apartment. Suddenly I had things to do, people to spend the day with, and the holiday wasn't looking quite as lonely or depressing as it had seemed a few weeks before.
The festivities commenced on Christmas Eve with the EPIK "Leaver's" Dinner (just an excuse for a Christmas dinner if you ask me) and spending some time with many of the people that I have met over the last year. There was a buffet, there was an orchestra and there was singing. The atmosphere was festive and just enough to make me realise that Christmas really was around the corner.
On Saturday morning, I left my apartment with my arms filled with presents and food to go to Chanel's Christmas breakfast. The bright sun greeted me, ruining my hope that it would be a white Christmas, but it wasn't enough to ruin the day. I arrived at Chanel'
s apartment and was greeted by an air of excitement. Cards and presents were passed around (I even got a special Jewish Christmas card compliments of Amy) and breakfast was served - a feast of French toast, maple syrup, scrambled eggs, bacon, sausages, croissants, creamy bread, strawberries, kiwis, fruit salad, orange juice, chocolate nougat pudding and Tim Tams. We ate, we chatted, we watched Love Actually and we just enjoyed being in each other's company.
I was already slightly full by the time Saturday evening rolled around, despite having had a couple of hours respite from eating. But it was time to pick up the ice cream cake that I had ordered and make my way to the next party. A Christmas dinner was being prepared, and I was delighted to find some of my favourites spread amongst the treats - yorkshire pudding, roast potatoes, a gingerbread house - as well as some
traditional treats that I had yet to try - eggnog being the most prevalent amongst these. Christmas carols played in the background, then A Christmas Story, and finally the night ended (for me at least) with a showing of Bad Santa and a couple of (non-Christmas) songs played on the guitar compliments of James. It was a night of being with friends, and with my family on the other side of the world, they were the next best thing.
Halfway through dinner, I made my way outside to call my parents and found the world covered in snow. My dream of a white Christmas had come true after all, and this lifted my spirits to the umpteenth degree! I called Mom and Dad and had a quick chat with Ashley and Gill before having to head back inside because I was freezing cold and not wearing anough layers.
So yes, I am a bad Jew. I am a Jew who celebrates Christmas. But, you know what? It was an amazing feeling being around people I care about and who care about me. And isn't that what Christmas is about after all (aside from the whole Jesus being born thing anyway) - being with family and celebrating being together. So, I may be a bad Jew, but I don't think that makes me a bad person.
I recall when David, the only other Jew I know here, found out about this. It was at quiz last week, and when I heard that there was a round on Christmas carols, I grabbed the paper out of his hand and a smile of glee spread over my face - this was a round that I could do. I caught the look on David's face and the smile on mine faded slightly. He looked appalled, as though the words "BAD JEW!" were about to come out any minute. I didn't let it get to me though. I have a relationship with Christmas, and it is a special one that no amount of judging can break.You see, though my immediate family is Jewish (though again, not a very good bunch of Jews - where do you think I get my bacon addiction from?), my mother converted before my sister and I were born, so her side of the family are Catholic. This meant that we celebrated Christmas every year when I was growing up. I still remember hanging the decorations on the Christmas tree at Granny Ellen's house, eating her homemade mince pies (fruit mince for those who don't know better) and the butter cookies in the shapes of Christmas trees. Of course, all of those memories are from when I was very young, before Granny Ellen and Grandad moved into the retirement village, shortly before Granny stopped baking and long before they moved into the frail care centre. After they moved into the retirement village, Christmas became a little less festive and just involved a Christmas lunch shared between my Mom and uncle - one year Ashley would host it, the next year we would. There was no run-up to Christmas anymore, but at least the day itself was spent with family. Each year, the lunches became less fun than the last as we shouted across the table to Grandad who couldn't hear us even with his hearing aid or tried to talk to Granny who would just nod even though her hearing aid was off and she couldn't hear a word we were saying. It came to an all-time low last year, when Granny didn't even have the energy to get out of bed and come to the lunch, and it just ended up being Grandad, who could hardly eat anything, watching us all with a wide-eyed confused look on his face. Yes, I have a history with Christmas. And when Granny and Grandad passed away in March, I knew (even then) that Christmas was never going to be the same again.
Two weeks before Christmas, I didn't have any plans. I had been planning on going skiing, but that fell through. I had been hoping to spend it with Jess, but that wasn't seeming likely. And then I spoke to Shaina, who assured me that I would be welcome to come to the dinner that she was putting together, and a few days before the event itself, Chanel decided to host a breakfast at her apartment. Suddenly I had things to do, people to spend the day with, and the holiday wasn't looking quite as lonely or depressing as it had seemed a few weeks before.
The festivities commenced on Christmas Eve with the EPIK "Leaver's" Dinner (just an excuse for a Christmas dinner if you ask me) and spending some time with many of the people that I have met over the last year. There was a buffet, there was an orchestra and there was singing. The atmosphere was festive and just enough to make me realise that Christmas really was around the corner.
On Saturday morning, I left my apartment with my arms filled with presents and food to go to Chanel's Christmas breakfast. The bright sun greeted me, ruining my hope that it would be a white Christmas, but it wasn't enough to ruin the day. I arrived at Chanel'
s apartment and was greeted by an air of excitement. Cards and presents were passed around (I even got a special Jewish Christmas card compliments of Amy) and breakfast was served - a feast of French toast, maple syrup, scrambled eggs, bacon, sausages, croissants, creamy bread, strawberries, kiwis, fruit salad, orange juice, chocolate nougat pudding and Tim Tams. We ate, we chatted, we watched Love Actually and we just enjoyed being in each other's company.
I was already slightly full by the time Saturday evening rolled around, despite having had a couple of hours respite from eating. But it was time to pick up the ice cream cake that I had ordered and make my way to the next party. A Christmas dinner was being prepared, and I was delighted to find some of my favourites spread amongst the treats - yorkshire pudding, roast potatoes, a gingerbread house - as well as some
traditional treats that I had yet to try - eggnog being the most prevalent amongst these. Christmas carols played in the background, then A Christmas Story, and finally the night ended (for me at least) with a showing of Bad Santa and a couple of (non-Christmas) songs played on the guitar compliments of James. It was a night of being with friends, and with my family on the other side of the world, they were the next best thing.Halfway through dinner, I made my way outside to call my parents and found the world covered in snow. My dream of a white Christmas had come true after all, and this lifted my spirits to the umpteenth degree! I called Mom and Dad and had a quick chat with Ashley and Gill before having to head back inside because I was freezing cold and not wearing anough layers.
So yes, I am a bad Jew. I am a Jew who celebrates Christmas. But, you know what? It was an amazing feeling being around people I care about and who care about me. And isn't that what Christmas is about after all (aside from the whole Jesus being born thing anyway) - being with family and celebrating being together. So, I may be a bad Jew, but I don't think that makes me a bad person.
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