Conference taveng::bagels

    I hate to rain on peoples' parades, but I do think that Chanukah has
    gotten blown out of proportion.
    
    The traditional Jewish gift-giving holiday is Purim.  Chanukah has
    become simply a substitute for Christmas, a major event simply because
    "they" have a major gift-giving holiday.  And even Christmas only
    became a major consumer extravaganza in the past century or so, having
    even been outlawed in Massachusetts in the 1630s!  Jewish kids see the
    commercialization and hear the other kids talking about Santa et al,
    and want something too, so we give them Chanukah as a substitute.
    
    Both, of course, are simply substitutions for the real winter solstice
    holiday, which the Romans celebrated as Saturnalia.  It's the marking
    of the return of the sun, as the days begin to get longer.  Chanukah is
    not coincidentally the "festival of light", with a legend about a lamp
    assigned to go with it.  Christmas, fwiw, celebrates the "birthday" of
    someone who was born in October!  Of course, they too needed a holiday
    to compete with Saturnalia.  Ditto the Yule log customs of the ancient
    Europeans, etc.  Winter calls out for a holiday to relieve the tedium
    of darkness, and we oblige.

    Thanks - that's the kind of info I was looking for!  
    
    Does this match the views of others out there?

The following is an article written by Cantor James Freedman of 
Temple Beth Abraham in Nashua, NH in December, 1988:

     		The Jewish Community and Christmas

     			By James Freedman

     As Christmas approaches, with its spiritual message and the 
attendant display of lights, crowded stores and commercial symbols, 
questions are sometimes raised as to how the Jewish portion of our 
community copes with it all. "Network" posed this question to me; 
based on my discussions with other Jews, and reviewing my own 
family's experiences, some answers are herewith shared.

     The general response to the fervor of Christmas lies not so 
much in coping as it does in sharing. As with some of our Christian 
friends who are concerned with the over-commercialization, we also 
share in coping with Christmas decorations appearing right after 
Halloween (it used to be after Thanksgiving). A more basic sharing 
between both religous communities, and indeed, with all faiths, is 
the message of peace on Earth, good will to men. It is a reminder to 
many Jews of our own persecutions. It is a message of peace which 
transcends religous boundaries.

     A sharing, rather than coping, manifests itself in the 
exchange of what I call "generic" greeting cards. Certainly, the 
message of peace is the common denominator and we share it with our 
Christian friends - another recognition of their spiritual search. 
We have also received Hanukah cards from our friends in recognition 
of our own "Feast of Lights" celebration. Hanukah, like Christmas, 
is a time when children receive gifts and is based on a significant 
religous event.

     Perhaps the term "coping" may best apply more to our children 
than to their elders. If their friends are getting presents, why 
aren't they? And what are all the tree lights for, and will Santa 
Claus visit them? A tenuous ethical question arises when children, 
at school, are involved in making Christmas tree ornaments - should 
our children become involved? The general response has been to use 
the Christmas season as a learning tool; a time to introduce our 
children to the existence and cornerstone of the Christian faith. In 
this way, tolerance through awareness is started and religous 
education on a broad scale is developed. The need to cope with 
possible peer pressure to exchange gifts is diminished and may even 
be transformed into a mutual respect for the deeper tradition rather 
than just giving and receiving gifts.

     One aspect of the "coping" experience, if we still want to call 
it that, is the seasonal reminder of the separation of church and 
state. When religous symbols are placed on government property, 
coping is transformed into response. Every so often, the news media 
describes a situation, for example, where a creche was placed on 
City Hall property in some community. Good intentions 
notwithstanding, coping with a potential partisan recognition is an 
historical exercise in self-assertion. Government, by definition, 
represents all people and all of their religous affiliations and 
groups. The need to cope arises as sensitivity to other beliefs 
declines. In this country, generally speaking, sensitivity to our 
neighbor's religous observances and practices is still a mutual 
sharing and practiced rule.

     If our population ratio of Christian to Jew was reversed, and 
Hanukah was raised to the commercial frenzy of Christmas, would the 
"coping" experience still manifest itself? I suspect that the answer 
would still be "yes". Human nature still tries to convert negatives 
into positives if only to reduce the stress. I must admit that I 
have practiced all year in coping with moving gridlock on our 
streets and swarms of buyers at store sales. The seasonal crunch can 
certainly be no more threatening.

     I must wave my own flag for a few seconds. As a long-term member of 
Nashua's Barbershop Chorus, I do look forward to Christmas. Our 
chorus visits the hospitals and nursing homes and sings Christmas 
carols. How many listeners know that the fellow who often sings the 
second verse of "Silent Night" as a soloist is a Jew (me)? The 
bottom line is sharing the spirit. No one has asked what my religion 
is, the sharing of a spiritual experience is what it is all about. 
Has anyone asked those street-corner Santa Clauses about their 
religions? We all cope and we all share. Spiritual content does, 
indeed, transcend religous boundaries.

     And a joyous season to you all.

    Jesus would have been born in the spring, because shepherds watch
    their flocks by night only during the lambing season.
    
    ... and before Saturnalia there was Modranacht, which celebrates
    the creation of the world, light out of darkness.
    
    						Ann B.

    Re .4:
    
    Regarding the correct birthdate of Jesus...doesn't that depend on how
    much validity one places on the accounts of Jesus's life as found in
    the Christian Bible?
    
    Mark

    You did notice my careful use of the subjunctive, didn't you?
    
    						Ann B.  :-)

    Hanukah probably took place in what we would now call September/October.
    There is evidence that indicates that for several years the Sanhedrin
    was prevented from meeting and intercalating leap-months, so that by
    the time the Hasmoneans were able to take control of the Temple, Kislev
    was coming in the early fall.  (This was well before the calendar was
    determined through computation.)

                                               Aaron

    What do you do during this season?  What did your parents do?
    
    Is this question too personal?      

    True, Chris.  However, the Tannenbaum was sacred to the Goddess,
    Tann or Dann, and the ornaments on it were meant as offerings
    to the Fair Folk.  I'd just explain that this is what it had once
    meant to the barbarians of Germania, and go on with the trimming.
    
    						Ann B.

In Sweden, where I used to live, Christmas Eve (Jul Afton) was the big
holiday -- a huge meal every bit as traditional in form as a Passover
Seder (with different food, of course) -- then a visit from a real-live
"Christmas Elf."  In my in-law's family, the neighbors used to trade off
Elf duties, so all the adults could be properly impressed, and the 4-year
old who had things figured out could look around the living room, see
*all* the grandparents, and realize that there's still mystery in the
world.  (Hmm, that kid's about 18 now.)

The Jewish population of Sweden mostly ignored the holiday (hard to do,
when the entire country's shut down).

Martin.

    RE: 12-
    
   > I would even say that the objections to subjecting Jewish children to
   > the celebrations of Christmas are stronger than those for adults, 
   > as children they are less able to withstand the pressures to conform
   > that Christmas brings, and this can be both disturbing and upsetting.
    
    Are you proposing that Jews hide their children for this period of time
    till Christmas is over, because that is the only way that they will not
    be "subjected ..... to the celebration....", at least in the U.S.?
    
    What are you afraid of, that they may see that some people believe
    differently then they do? I grew up being exposed to both (Chanukah
    in my parent's home, and Christmas at friends homes) and didn't feel
    the least bit "uncomfortable". Unless you live in total isolation,
    there is no way that you can exist in this society and avoid Christmas
    celebrations, and that isolation is not realistic nor fair to your
    children!
    
    Eric
    
     

   In Argentina, as in most Latin American countries, there was no such
   big Xmas rush, 'till some 15-20 years ago, when it begun as an "imported"
   rite.

   In my childhood (Avellaneda, Province of Buenos Aires, circa 1950), the
   big celebrations were the New Year, that we used to celebrate as the
   civilian New Year, without most of the fireworks, but still meeting 
   together and toasting each other for a "Happy New Year". Those happy
   new year dinners were celebrated at my very observant grandmother's
   house, under the cover of my uncle's birthday (Dec. 31st.).

   There was, of course, the big gift giving season of "Reyes" (the Kings),
   Jan. 6th., when the Catholic Church celebrates that the 3 Magi - or
   Magic Kings (Reyes Magos) brought gifts to the new-born Jesus. The
   night between Jan 5 and 6, the children would leave their shoes outside
   their bedrooms and during the night "the Kings would pass, ridding their
   camels, and bring gifts to every child..."

   The problem was next morning, when eevery neighbor had new toys and we
   would not have.  My parents decided that we should not be different
   than other children: we would receive also gifts, but we knew that
   "the Magi are the parents", there were no heavenly riders and heavenly
   gifts...

   Though we received a lot of "Magi gifts", it did not hurt me and one of
   my sisters to come to Israel, and a 3rd. sister of mine to be "rebezn"
   (married to a rabbi) in Buenos Aires, after the 3 of us got our degrees 
   in Jewish education.

   As for Chanuka, we ate lots of "Latkes" - try to eat hot latkes in
   December, in the middle of the summer in the Southern Hemisphere,
   "shpiln in dreidlech", kindling the lights and sweting....

   Nostalgically,

   Juan-Carlos Kiel 

    re .12:
    
    My friend's still a Jew, and a very active one, at that, and I'm still
    Christian (lesser activity confessed).
    
    Parents have the possibility to teach their children that other people
    have other traditions, some of them originating from religious beliefs.
    By no means does it mean that they ACCEPT them, if they RESPECT them.
    Children can understand this difference very quickly.
    
    It doesn't make a Jew out of me if I send you greetings for Chanukka,
    and you won't be christened by wishing me a Merry Christmas. Rather, it
    would add to developing, respectively improving, our personal
    relationship.
    
    On a similar tangent, I was invited by several Jewish friends to their
    weddings (I couldn't reciprocate, since my wedding in Church took place
    in France), and have reasons to believe that my presence contributed
    to a small extent to their happiness. So would theirs have to mine, had
    they had the possibility to attend.
    
    Respectfully yours,
    
    Chris

It seems quite ironic and sad to me that for many in this country, Chanukah
is nothing more than a "Jewish Christmas". Ironic, because Chanukah is
actually a commemoration not only of military battles fought against the
Syrian Greeks, but just as importantly against the Jewish Hellenists, who
sought to blur the distinction between authentic Judaism and the predominant
Greek culture. Sad, because most Jews today know nothing of the spiritual
heroism that we are actually celebrating, know nothing of the quintessential
Jewish nature of Chanukah, to the point of not being able to distinguish it
from a gentile holiday. Sad, because as regards some Jews, the Chashmonaim
might just as well have lost the war.

Nachmanides (Ramban) points out that the _menorah_ is the only utensil whose
legacy has survived the destruction of the Temple. Although today's menorah
has 8 (9 including the Shammosh) branches where the original had 7, our menorah
is a direct descendant of the lamp that was lit daily by Aaron and the Levites.

This commandment was given to Aaron in the beginning of the portion 
_Beha'alotecha_ (Numbers 8:1), directly after the portion of "the 
dedication of the Tabernacle", in which the princes of the tribes are commanded
to bring specific offerings in honor of the occasion. The 10th century
commentator _Rashi_, draws attention to this juxtaposition and offers the
following explanation: When Aaron witnessed the Dedication, and realized that
neither he nor his tribe were included, he was saddened. G-d therefore told
him, "On your life, your portion is greater than theirs, because you light
the menorah." 

Ramban questions the logic of Rashi's explanation. In what way did this 
particular _Mitzva_ soften the blow to Aaron?  Ramban finally reveals the
secret that was referred to earlier: this menorah will symbolically last
forever, even after the _Beit Hamikdash_, Holy Temple, is razed.

The exchange between Rashi and Ramban is strange. After all, what exactly was
bothering Aaron in the first place? Were the descendants of Aaron in any way
deprived of their fair share of involvement in the daily activity in the
Temple? Certainly not!! Their participation was constant and central to almost
all goings on in the Tabernacle and Temple! 

I heard the following interpretation from R. Dov Lesser: In order to truly
understand what was troubling Aaron, one must understand the history of the
tribe of Levi, which Aaron led. From the beginning, this tribe was different.
The Midrash relates that while in Egypt, the Jews were prohibited from 
practicing circumcision under pain of death. All desisted from the practice,
*except for the tribe of Levi*. While the Jews stumbled by worshipping the
Golden Calf, the Levites remained pure (Rashi on Exodus 32:26). They were 
ordered to kill all the culprits involved, and carried out the command, although
some of their closest relatives were involved. 

The Levites seemed to transcend nature. They could have acted like the rest of
the nation, and *had every reason to*, their very lives and those of their
loved ones being threatened, but they realized that the continuity of the
Jewish People sometimes requires the ultimate sacrifice, and they were prepared
to do so, although it contradicted every natural tendency and instinct.

Back to the question at hand. Aaron witnessed the dedication of the Tabernacle,
but was joyless, because he realized that the Temple might not last forever.
What made him even more despondent was the realization that without the Temple
as the focus of the nation, and certainly with any possible dispersion of the
people, under normal circumstances the Jews themselves would ultimately
disappear, (i.e. through intermarriage, assimilation, etc.). G-d addressed his
fears: Your portion is greater than theirs i.e. the transcendent nature of the
Levites will be the driving force in the survival of the Jewish People even
after the Temple lay in ruin, and the Nation is dispersed. And the symbol of
this nature is the menorah, which will be the one vestige to survive the
destruction *even of its original purpose* as a vessel in the Temple. 

The Chashmonaim were, of course, scions of the House of Levi, and they
embodied this transcendent spirit, ignoring personal danger in the face of
overwhelming odds, seemingly oblivious to logic in their willingness to
take on apparently impossible tasks. Had Jimmy the Greek been present, he
doubtless would have declared the smart money to be on the Hellenists, both
Jewish and non-Jewish. The Chashmonaim were oblivious to the physical threat
in the face of the greater threat: the spiritual annihilation of the Jewish
people - and nothing could stand in the way of the mission to halt it - NOTHING!

The menorah is the symbol of these spiritual heros, and their spirit is what
accounts for our  entirely unnatural survival in dispersion.

Lest one imagine that this is solely the domain of Levites, Maimonides (Rambam)
states emphatically (end of the laws of Shemitta ve'yovel, in the Mishna Torah):
...not alone to the tribe of Levi, but every *person*, from every background
whose heart is given to *know G-d*... is considered a Levi in this respect.

Jem

    Jem,
    
    You are correct in that the Chanukah is a commemoration of the victory
    over the Jewish Hellenists and for that reason we do not celebrate the
    victories.  Instead the Rabbis have told us to celebrate the miracle
    of the lights for celebrating a victory over fellow Jews no matter how 
    apostate is repugnent.  There is a lesson for all of us in here.
    
    Warren

    my feelings toward kids and the two holidays are -- as long as the
    kids know where they are coming from, i.e. their heritage -- i see
    no problem in talking about christmas or santa claus or going out
    and looking at the pretty lights.  when my son was about 3, and old
    enough to have some sort of understanding, he asked if santa ws
    going to come to our house.  i told him no, but he would be going
    next door to zach's house.  how would he know not to stop at our
    house? i think i said something vague like 'santa just knows'. for
    a while he was convinced that anyone who didn't have lights on their
    house was jewish! i want to take my youngest to see "santa" arrive
    at the local grammar school this friday -- he comes in on one of
    the DEC choppers -- i think she'll be more excited by the helicopter
    than by santa.  yet i don't hide the christmas season from the kids,
    and i talk about the christmas season rather than the channukah
    season -- why? i'm not sure except that maybe  it's easier.  it
    bothers my husband, yet he used to visit santa every year, a fact
    he conveniently forgets each year.  yes, the kids will ask questions,
    but by NOT ignoring the other holiday as if it were blasphemous
    i don't think that we will have any problems.
    
    besides -- as my son said -- we get 8 days to celebrate and they
    only get one, and that's a lot "more better"!
    
    /sandy

Re: .0

>    I read some older notes and got the impression that gifts were a
>    relatively new "tradition", sort of a response to commercialized
>    Christmas.

If this idea troubles you (and even if it doesn't), here's a possible
solution: leave the bicycles and Pacman games for someone else to buy,
and buy your kids something of Jewish value.

Jem

I pulled the following off USENET. 


SHABBAT SHALOM

Vayeshev

by Shlomo Riskin

        Efrat, Israel --  For me, Chanukah away form home is  not
Chanukah.  The Talmud's use of language in Tractate Shabbat, 21b,
commanding us to light candles on Chanukah -- "ner  ish  u'baito"
--  (each householder lights a candle for his home), alerts us to
the importance of the home in performing  this  commandment.   In
fact, commandments linked to a specific part of the home are rare
-- we are not told where to eat matzah or build a Sukkah  --  but
when  it  comes to Chanukah, the optimum location for the candles
are near the door's entrance, at least  at  a  window  where  the
passing  public  can see them. The commandment is so closely tied
to one's home that according to Maimonides (Laws of Chanukah, Ch.
4,  Law  11), a guest for whom a candle is lit back home does not
have to light a candle in the apartment where he's visiting.

        Not only are we surrounded by light, but Chanukah  brings
with  it an array of smells, tastes, and emotions oriented to the
home. Being aware of this makes it  difficult  to  imagine  where
besides  the  home this mitzvah could possibly be performed.  But
the fact is that Chanukah celebrates the Hasmoneans' victory over
the  Greek-Syrians and their Jewish Hellenistic sympathizers, the
recapture of the Temple in  Jerusalem  in  165  B.C.E.,  and  its
reconsecration on the 25th of Kislev after having been defiled by
Greek idolatry.  In other words, this  struggle  is  between  two
cultures,  two  identities,  two  destinies.   The discovery of a
small cruse of pure olive oil makes  it  possible  to  light  the
menorah  inside  the  Holy  Temple  again and rededicate its holy
vessels to divine service.  Indeed, the very name Chanukah  means
dedication.

        Given how central the Temple is to the  understanding  of
Chanukah,  it is reasonable to ask why the historic continuity of
the Temple -- the synagogue -- was not chosen by our Sages as the
central  focal  point  for  this festival?  The synagogue is even
called 'temple-in-miniature' (mikdash me'at) in that it  contains
such  reminders  of  the  original Temple as the Holy Ark and the
Eternal Lamp. On Chanukah, if everyone brought their lamps to the
synagogue,  we'd all be astonished by the illumination of so much
light, certainly directing our imaginations back toward the  Holy
Temple  itself.   Precedents  do exist.  One of the most splendid
displays of Jewish ritual occurs on Sukkoth when  everyone  lifts
the  Four  Species  during  the recitation of Hallel, evoking the
practice in the Temple itself.  Should Chanukah, whose heart  and
soul emerges from a miracle in the Temple, be any different?

        To understand why our homes have become the focus of  the
lights  of Chanukah, we have to go to the home of Mattathias, the
priest whose family of five sons urged an end to the  Hellenistic
outrages  against  the  Jewish people.  In the home of Mattathias
were embedded values which made it impossible to compromise  with
a Greek-Syrian government bent on forcing Jews to abandon, in the
name of Hellenistic advances, circumcision,  Sabbath  observance,
and new moon celebrations.

        In contrast to those who found a  message  in  Hellenism,
the  family  of  Mattathias, (who were priests) understood better
than most the significance of the Temple's defilement and how the
three  besieged  commandments  cut  at  the heart of being a Jew.
Fascinating about the Maccabees is how the seed of their  victory
lies  within  the matrix of one family -- a father and five sons.
Imagine how they must have been raised!  Lighting the candles  at
home  not  only  recalls  the miracle of the cruse of oil, but it
honors a family which fought assimilation to the death.

        Hellenized, assimilated Jews rushed to change Judea  into
a   Greek   city-state,   pulsing  with  Olympic  games,  Sabbath
a   Greek   city-state,   pulsing  with  Olympic  games,  Sabbath
desecration,  even  wholesale  surgical  techniques  to   conceal
circumcisions.   Fundamentally,  this war was not so much between
Greek-Syrians and Jews as it was a civil war,  Jew  against  Jew,
Hellenist  against  traditionalist.  The real battle was cultural
and religious, and the key to victory went beyond  the  skill  of
the  archer,  but  rested  in the home, the truest transmitter of
Jewish values.

        Usually,  the  more  one  assimilates,  the  greater  the
tendency  for  the  synagogue  to become the repository for one's
Judaism.  Like church-culture in general, for the assimilated Jew
in  the west, Judaism becomes a synagogue-centered religion.  The
home is left to run on different sets  of  values.   With  three-
day-a-year  Jews,  inevitably  the  home must grow estranged from
Jewish life, but for observant Jews, the home  is  the  heart  of
Jewish life, the kitchen, the meals prepared, the food eaten, the
prayers said, the seven-day cycle and its culmination in  Shabbat
and festivals.

        On Chanukah, when each person lights a candle, what we're
also  saying is that despite the miraculous events and triumph of
recapturing the Holy Temple, we turn,  for  a  moment,  from  the
spectacular,  and  focus  on  a  simple,  solitary  candle -- the
family, the home -- because after all is said and done, could  we
have  survived  centuries of persecution and suffering if not the
inner light emerging from our homes?

        This week's portion, Vayeshev, recounts  the  trials  and
tribulations  of  another, earlier family -- Jacob and his twelve
sons. The Book of Genesis is really  the  history  of  a  family,
while  the  Book  of  Exodus  recounts  the creation of a nation.
Prior to the Revelation at  Sinai  or  the  construction  of  the
Sanctuary,  or  the  capturing  of  the  land,  the Jewish family
already existed,  its  vicissitudes  and  triumphs  chronicled  in
Genesis.   Without a strong family at its base, there would be no
Jewish nation to speak of.

        Perhaps Joseph's essential  teaching  is  how  he  healed
violent,   emotional   wounds,   forging   eleven  brothers  into
responsible, committed leaders able to father a nation in  exile.
In  the  Midrash,  Abraham  is compared to a mountain, Isaac to a
field, and Jacob to a home.   The  mountain  of  Abraham  is  the
mountain  he  climbs in order to reach G-d when he brings his son
as a sacrifice.  The field of Isaac is the land of Israel,  which
he  never leaves during his entire lifetime.  But the greatest of
the patriarchs is Jacob, who built a house with twelve tribes and
one crown prince, Joseph.

        Like the sons of Mattathias, Joseph must resist a foreign
culture  that  surrounds  him with its delightful promises.  More
than anyone else in the Book of Genesis, he understands  what  it
means  to  live  among  'Hellenists,' but his last words bind the
Israelites by oath to remove his bones from Egypt and bring  them
for final burial to the holy land.

        When we light the candles in our own home  --  no  matter
how  simple or grand -- we have to remember that the successes of
the Holy Temple, the successes of the battlefield, the  successes
of  national  sovereignty,   and  even  the  successes of our own
lives, the fate of where the draidel will fall, really depends on
the  kind  of light that emanates from our homes.  Is there light
there every day of the year, or just on select occasions?

Shabbat Shalom and a Freilicher Chanukah!

Copyright Ohr Torah 1989.
This essay is distributed by Kesher --the Jewish Network. For information
regarding its use, contact the Kesher BBS at 312-940-1696.

I did something radical last weekend. I opened a book and read up on Hannukah.
My source (Gersch, "A Popular History of the Jews", a 6-volume set that usually
collects dust on my bookshelf) says that the books of Daniel and Esther first
appeared during the war against Antiochus. The prophecies in Daniel apply to
that period. The purpose of Esther was to support the idea that "we did it
before and we can do it again" so to speak. Is this correct?

Dave

    RE: 847.21

>                                         the books of Daniel and Esther first
>appeared during the war against Antiochus.

    Most non-fundamentalist scholars agree that these were written much
    later than the period to which they refer.  Both the language and a
    number of historical discrepancies support this point of view.

                                        Aaron

My brain must have turned to mush because my author's name is Graetz, not the
garble I mentioned in .21.

Dave