Rabbi Joshua Waxman: December 2005 Archives

I’m not going to waste words here on why Iran's President Mahmoud Ahmadinejad’s revolting remarks on Israel and the Holocaust are both patently false and deeply offensive, and to its credit the world community has largely stepped in to say the same. But, as a friend of mine remarked, “He may be crazy but he’s no joke.” I think there is a lot of wisdom in that comment.

From a geo-political standpoint, we know that Iran is resuming its nuclear program in defiance of U.N. orders, and it certainly appears like the goal is to develop a nuclear weapon. As if that weren’t enough cause for grave concern, his regime is contributing to instability in the Middle East by actively meddling in Iraqi politics and promoting the Sunni-led insurgency in Southern Iraq.

“He may be crazy but he’s no joke”: It’s important to remember that many threats are allowed to take root precisely because no one took them seriously enough to deal with them when it was still possible to contain them (Hitler making hate speeches in beer halls in Munich comes to mind. More ominously, Hitler invading Poland also comes to mind.)

But dismissing Ahmadinejad is dangerous to the world on more than a geo-political level. It is also dangerous on a moral level. For when remarks viciously denying the Holocaust go unchecked, our common humanity is diminished as we turn away from or ignore those darker impulses of humanity that can give rise to genocide and the inconceivable mistreatment of fellow human beings. These impulses are not ancient history, or even 60-year-old history. They are being tragically played out today in Darfur, as they were in Rwanda, as they were in Bosnia, as they were in Cambodia, as they were…. The list is far too long for us to deny the very real evil people can do to one another, and failing to confront Holocaust deniers does exactly that: by failing to stand up for human suffering and against the large-scale bloodshed of innocent millions, we desensitize ourselves to similar atrocities when they take place around us. It is not only the Holocaust survivors themselves who are violated as their reality is denied; it is all of us.

The symbol of evil in Jewish thought is the nation of Amalek, which attacked the Israelites from behind in cowardly fashion as they left Egypt, according to the Book of Exodus. In response, we are commanded to destroy Amalek wherever we may encounter him. But the manner in which we are to do this is uniquely Jewish: We are to remember. In the Book of Deuteronomy, we are enjoined: “Remember what Amalek did to you on your journey out of Egypt, how he attacked you on the way, when you were faint and weary, and struck down all who lagged behind you; he did not fear God. Therefore when the Lord your God has given you rest from all your enemies on every hand, in the land that the Lord your God is giving you as an inheritance to possess, you shall blot out the remembrance of Amalek from under heaven; do not forget.” (25:17-19)

In other words, our weapon in the face of evil is memory. It is a powerful weapon, because it is the opposite of that more comfortable and familiar impulse to look away, to ignore, to forget, to deny. In being called to remember, Jews--and all people--are called on not merely to passively recall, but to remember through action, to take a stand against those evils being perpetrated in our own time until we can all finally say together in one voice, “Never Again.”

A lot of attention has been given lately to a small but vocal segment of the population that sees Christmas--and, by extension, Christians--under attack, with the increasing use of the phrase “Happy Holidays” instead of “Merry Christmas.” Exhibit A has been the alleged banishing of any and all Christmas references in department stores, whether clerks have been instructed to wish patrons a non-specific “Happy Holidays” or whether such Christmas objects as ornaments have been repurposed as "holiday ornaments" to be hung on "holiday trees."

On its face, there’s a certain logic to the complaint. Eighty percent of Americans are Christian (note carefully: meaning that they don’t belong to a non-Christian religion, not that they are necessarily practicing Christians), and certainly in many parts of the country that percentage is much higher. Isn’t it only appropriate to acknowledge the obvious fact that most Americans celebrate "Christmas," not "Holiday"?

And the idea of a "holiday ornament" is particularly silly. Are Jews suddenly going to start hanging glass baubles with pictures of Santa Claus and reindeer from their menorahs now that these are generic holiday ornaments and not Christmas ornaments?

Clearly, the symbols of Christmas need to be identified for what they actually are, and this cuts to the point of the whole debate. Because there is no shortage of Christian symbols this time of year–I haven’t personally heard any department stores swapping "Deck the Halls" for "We Wish You a Merry Kwanzaa"–or of Americans celebrating Christmas.

Christmas appears alive and well, which is why the question of the motives of the anti-Happy Holidays campaign comes into play. Sadly, the purpose of the effort isn’t to get out a religious message: it’s to spread a political and cultural message that America is a Christian nation and that anyone who doesn’t fit the standard is less than a good American, a point none-too-subtly made when the conservative New York Post charged a Jewish Long Island town supervisor opposing Christian prayers at a tree-lighting ceremony with “Treeson.” In fact, the New York Times web site has reported that there is a deeply disturbing trend of these attacks on the "anti-Christmas" camp taking on an anti-Semitic tinge.

The fact is that the Save Christmas folks are trying to use this issue as a wedge in the cultural wars. It’s particularly ironic that the main battleground is department stores, because those who are arguing for these merchandizers to proudly proclaim “Merry Christmas” ultimately end up highlighting the commercial aspect of the holiday, detracting from the spiritual meaning of the celebration.

As a rabbi and a person who cares deeply about religious messages, I’m angered by these attempts at creating division and saddened by the cheapening of Christmas by using it to score political points. Christians should take joy and pride in the celebration of their holiday at this season, just as Jews do in Hanukkah and observers of Kwanzaa do in theirs.

The genius of America is that we don’t need to pretend we’re all the same in order to all be Americans. And as I light my Hanukkah candles this year, I’ll be reflecting on the blessings of this country and the religious freedom that the Maccabees fought to protect.

May we all enjoy a healthy and blessed holiday season.

Hanukkah – the most important holiday of the Jewish year. Not really, of course: Holidays like Rosh ha-Shanah and Yom Kippur and even (especially!) the weekly observance of Shabbat have far more religious significance. In fact, religiously speaking, Hanukkah hardly rates. But all that goes out the window every December, when Jews flock to the mall amidst a flurry of wreaths, Christmas carols, and Santa Clauses. In 21st-century America, Hanukkah is a holiday that’s all about identity.

Jews are a minority in this country, and that’s not going to change anytime soon. And while we’ve made tremendous strides into the mainstream, with Jews in prominent positions throughout the country and Yiddish phrases peppering sitcoms beamed into the heartland, every December we’re not-so subtly reminded that we live in a predominantly Christian country. Which is fine, because it gives Jews a chance to proclaim their different, minority status and to affirm their identity against the larger cultural norms, much as the Maccabees resisted Antiochus’ attempts to assimilate them in the initial episode that gave rise to Hanukkah.

And when Hanukkah falls on Christmas itself as it does this year, these questions only get sharpened: Do you go to your friends’ (or relatives’!) Christmas parties or do you stay home to light the menorah? Or do you bring it with you to the Christmas party? Do you watch 'A Charlie Brown Christmas' by the light of the Hanukkah candles to discover the true meaning of the holiday? The choices we make implicitly speak to the way we define ourselves over and against the larger American society. And from this perspective, Hanukkah truly is important, by giving us a chance to boldly and loudly proclaim our difference.

What does this difference consist of? When it comes to Hanukkah, it’s not so readily apparent. At first blush, one frenzy of shopping and gift-giving doesn’t look so very different from another–after all, is one present for eight nights so different from eight presents in one night? And while lighting the menorah and reciting the blessings are certainly a distinctive part of the Hanukkah celebration, their religious significance can easily get lost among the general festivities. This is why I think that Hanukkah in America is ultimately a holiday of identity.

By lighting the menorah, we affirm that we are Jewish, that we are different. It is together with the other holidays of the Jewish calendar– in fact, with the way we live our lives day-in, day-out and try to suffuse the everyday with holiness–that we can instill content in our difference and add meaning to our Jewishness. But on Hanukkah, at the season of the December Dilemma, proudly proclaiming our identity may be a good start.