‘Tis the season, and every year I ask a “volunteer” to write a post celebrating the holidays. This year Stuart drew the short straw and he was nominated by me to share his memories of Hanukkah on this, the 8th day. Here’s his very heartfelt essay.
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I spent part of my childhood in Oklahoma City and was the only Jew in my class at school. 
When Hanukkah rolled around, the teacher would call me up to the front with the following words: “And now Stuart, the class Jew, will come to the front and tell us about Hanukkah.” She wasn’t being mean or prejudiced, she wanted to expose the homogeneous class to someone different and I was the lucky guy. After my nervous explanation, I would return to my seat and the boys around me would flick the back of my head or ears and whisper, “Christ killer, Christ killer.” I’d harshly whisper back, “you can’t kill someone who never existed,” and wish the school day was over. Ah, the spirit of the holiday season!
At home, Hanukkah was great! Mom would put out the presents days before the first candle was lit and my brother and I would spend hours pressing down the wrapping paper trying to discover what was inside and whether we should open the big packages first. Sometimes a big gift might be disappointing, a jigsaw puzzle instead of the longed for nerf. I wasn’t sure whether or not I envied my gentile friends for getting to open all their presents at once. Was the lack of eight nights of suspense better or worse? On the other hand, they would get things like clothing for Christmas, even socks, which I thought truly horrible, while my Hanukkah was the Festival of 8 Toys in addition to being the Festival of 8 Lights.
Hanukkah always starts on the same day every year, on the 25th of Kislev in the Jewish Calendar. Because the Jewish calendar is Lunar and the Christian calendar is Solar, Hanukkah shifts around in December. If Hanukkah was near Christmas, my father would hang two of his black business socks over the fireplace and, on Christmas morning, the sock would be full of small toys, oranges and a $20 bill. My parents didn’t want us to feel left out, but via black socks, they didn’t want us to forget that we weren’t Christians.
My mother wanted a traditional Jewish son, and was profoundly unhappy when I came out as a gay man. It was years of struggle before she could accept the destruction of her dreams for me. When she did begin to come around to the beginnings of tolerance, she said two things:
1. you can still marry a Jewish man, and
2. it’s as easy to marry a rich man as a poor one.
I defied her on both counts: marrying a Puerto Rican Episcopalian and sharing a benignly middle-class life with him. Being intermarried has its challenges and its rewards. Mike has spent many hours studying latke and brisket recipes and knows more about keeping Kosher than my mother does. When we had our civil marriage blessed at Mike’s church, the first same-sex marriage AND at the principal Sunday Mass, the choir sang a Hebrew work by the 17th century Jewish composer Salamone Rossi. I was deeply moved by their generosity in taking the time to prepare the piece. And there my mother was, sitting with Mike’s family, watching me kneel at Mike’s side to receive the Nuptial Blessing from an Episcopal priest. My mom who wanted a straight son who married a woman under the Wedding Canopy, learned to extend herself in ways she never imagined.
For me, that is what Hanukkah means. Hanukkah is the festival of the light that cannot be extinguished. A festival that affirms our willingness to be illuminated in ways we could never anticipate. Humans waste an extraordinary amount of time trying to put out lights which offend them. They want the hated other, whoever it may be, to be extinguished, invisible, wrapped in darkness, gone. But the light simply cannot be extinguished, we cannot make the hated other disappear. We keep on glowing, burning, lighting up the world. I don’t believe this is the work of G-d. To me, I believe our capacity to endure, to keep our light burning is something beautiful and true about humanity, if we give it the chance to be true.
So, the light of Hanukkah belongs to all. May we all be lights to one another in our diversity, that we may all be illuminated in ways we could not imagine. And may all of us have a beautiful season of transformation and celebration by whatever name we call it and however we understand it.
This is the choral work by Salamone Rossi sung at my wedding (not by the Mantua Singers):
Thanks for a heartfelt piece Stuart
You’re very welcome! I’m always willing to talk about my marriage. I never thought I’d be able to marry and have the same rights as everybody else. And my Mom being there?!?!? 😯
Happy Belated Hannukah Stuart!
I can’t imagine growing up being the only Jewish kid in school. We lived in the Midwest for a handful of years and worried about this for my children. In the area we are now there are at least two other Jewish kids in my son’s classroom and others in his same grade. We are an interfaith and interracial marriage as well, so living in a tolerant and diverse community means a lot to me at least.
Mercedes
We left OKC for a more diverse community, too. Even now, Mike and I won’t vacation where our marriage isn’t valid. Why should I try to relax in a place I’m not welcome?
Speaking as an Episcopalian, married to someone who was one of three Jews and four Catholics in his school (Jewish mother, Catholic father) and mother to someone who is considering conversion to the Jewish faith…I think everyone feels like an other. What you decide to do with it is the important thing. Celebrate the differences and learn to find the similarities.
Absolutely Treva, I wish people could learn to celebrate difference instead of so often trying to extinguish each other. Maybe the world is growing in that direction. I have an inner optimist and an inner pessimist and they’re always in disagreement.
Thank you so much for this beautiful post Stuart.
You’re very welcome, Sirius! 😀
Reading this part:
Hanukkah is the festival of the light that cannot be extinguished. A festival that affirms our willingness to be illuminated in ways we could never anticipate. Humans waste an extraordinary amount of time trying to put out lights which offend them. They want the hated other, whoever it may be, to be extinguished, invisible, wrapped in darkness, gone. But the light simply cannot be extinguished, we cannot make the hated other disappear. We keep on glowing, burning, lighting up the world. I don’t believe this is the work of G-d. To me, I believe our capacity to endure, to keep our light burning is something beautiful and true about humanity, if we give it the chance to be true.
made me all teary eyed. It’s beautiful, Stuart. You should really think about writing some fiction. 🙂
Happy Holidays to both you and Mike.
Thanks so much for your kind words, Lady M. :blush: I think, perhaps, that I’m more of a non-fiction writer. But who knows… maybe one day I’ll have a fictional story to tell and a character that compels me.
If you ever decide to write fiction I promise to beta the story, if you would like me to do so. Should be a riot. :wallbash:
I don’t know much about the Jewish faith, despite having a few Jewish friends, so I really enjoyed this bit of insight on Hanukkah. Thanks.
Stu
I didn’t tell you how moved I was when I first read your beautiful post and experienced very small tidbits of your life: your childhood, your difficulties with your mother when you came out, and then the joyful occasion of your marriage to Mike which made everything worth what you went through. This is what I call a full circle, and sharing a portion of your life with us was very generous.
Thank you so much Stu for letting us in briefly into what is no doubt a very full and rich life. My best to you and Mike for many more happy decades together.
What a beautiful post!
“To me, I believe our capacity to endure, to keep our light burning is something beautiful and true about humanity, if we give it the chance to be true.”
Just beautiful. Thanks so much for sharing.
You’re very welcome Lisa. Maybe you should volunteer to write a Christmas post. I’ve always been curious about Christmas as a Summer holiday!
Maybe I will! 😉
There is just something so special about being around people who love you with their whole heart that they do things they never thought they’d do. The story of your mother at the church reminds me of a conversation I had with my mother once.
I was raised in a very small town by very Jewish parents. Judaism is a huge part of their identity so it shouldn’t be a surprise that I knew way before I ever went on my first date that I was expected to get married to a nice Jewish boy, which didn’t sit well with me. I wanted to fall in love with, who I wanted to fall in love with.
Also before my first date I became a huge supporter of gay rights, though I’m not gay myself. For years I was trying to turn my parents around on gay marriage. I remember way back when my father actually brought up the estate tax as a reason against. I wasn’t really surprised, he was an accountant before he retired. Keep in mind this was years before Prop 8 was a burr in anyone’s side.
So finally one day, still before my first date, my rebellion on the issues of inter-faith marriage and gay rights came to a head. I asked my mother who she would rather I brought home, a Jewish Lesbian or a Christian boy? My jaw hit the floor when my mother swiftly replyed, “the boy”. I couldn’t believe it! After years of reminders about how I had to marry a Jew, I thought for sure the answer would be different. My heart sank as I realized I had a much tougher road ahead to get my parents, my very liberal parents, to change their views on gay rights. If they were so against it, then what hope was there?!
Fast forward several years to when gay marriage was legal in CA, before Prop 8, and that was when my parents were invited to their friends Bob and Dave’s wedding. Seeing it for themselves made all the difference….I hope I helped a little. So when Prop 8 came up for the vote I didn’t have to say a word. They surprised me with a pro-gay rights rant the likes of which I never thought I’d see from them.
Whenever the issues of Judaism and gay rights come up in the same context, which very rarely happens for me, I’m always brought back to that day when I posed that question to my mother. Since then a lot has happened. I did marry outside the faith, and then I divorced… sadly, so did Bob and Dave. But my parents never cease to amaze me with their capacity to love and their ability to surprise my jaw to the floor. I’m nearing my 40’s and my mother is still insistent on giving me Hanukkah presents. Gotta love her.
Dear Sharvie,
Thanks for taking the time to share your inspiring story. It made for great reading!Let’s hope your parents can celebrate the Supreme Court upholding the abolition of Prop 8!
I really loved this piece.
(What, you waiting for applause?) 🙂
K.Z. – I’m so glad you liked it. 🙂 No applause necessary!
What beautiful words, Stuart. I’m agnostic but have the same wish for everyone. May the world live in love and light!
Happy belated Hanukkah. Say Hi to your husband and my compatriota!
Love and Light.
~Rush~