In 1987, I left my home in Toronto, Canada, to attend university in Tel Aviv, Israel. We were a large cohort of people from all over the Jewish world coming together to study from countries like Canada, the United States, England, Brazil, Argentina, and elsewhere.
None of us had ever been in a place where society wasn't dominated by Christian-centric holidays, and it's funny how much a part of life can be dictated by things you don't realize are somehow important.
Even though my family didn't celebrate Christmas or Easter, those holidays instigated time off from school and work for everyone, regardless of their religion. We learned the stories, customs, and songs of those holidays in school, and they have become emblematic of the season.
My mother always bought us Easter bunny chocolate; our tradition was to eat the bunny's head last. I was a member of my school choir that sang carols at Christmas time.
Christmas day was special to us kids because we would go to the movies with our parents, eat tons of popcorn, and have Chinese food for dinner, a Jewish Christmas dinner in those days.
So, in December of 1987, once the eight days of Chanukah were over, it felt strange to be in a place with no carols, twinkly lights, and gift-giving. We were living in the country where Jesus was born, with all of the physical landmarks from the bible at our disposal and minimal mention of the holiday. What was I missing?
On December 24th, a few of us decided to go to Bethlehem to be around the people to whom this holiday mattered the most. It was a truly fantastic experience.
In Manger Square, which is cobbled with stones that look thousands of years old, there was a giant screen installed so that everyone could pray with the Pope, who was on simulcast from the Vatican. A somber hush fell over this crowd of people that included Christians, Christian Arabs, Druids, Eastern Orthodox Armenian monks, nuns from the Philippines and Africa, and other pilgrims from all over the Christian world. When the Pope finished his address, the crowd started singing Silent Night, and we, of course, joined in.
This was a critical moment for us because we witnessed a different celebration. Christmas in Toronto, amongst the people I know, is a time for family and friends to gather, eat sumptuous meals, lavish gifts on one another, and make merry. I had never considered the profoundly religious aspect of it all.
What we were all missing that December, so many years ago, was that quintessential feeling of home that most people feel at this time of year. Even if you aren't religious, some customs become ingrained in who you are and how you function. I will always love singing Christmas carols, rambling around the city to see Christmas decorations, and wishing my friends and strangers happy holidays!
So, happy holidays to all of you, my Sole Sisters! However you celebrate, I hope it is beautiful and meaningful.
Naomi Weisman is a Canadian-Australian and mother of three, who loves to ramble with her dog, cook for family and friends, and laugh whenever possible.
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