Home for the Holiday

It is sad when there are so many dividing lines in the world. When I stumble across the ones in my own life, I sit back and wonder why they are even there. As I have just mentioned to someone on Twitter, while I was raised Christian, I grew up in a Jewish neighborhood. So wishing others a Happy Hanukkah did not seem wrong to me at all... until I was accused of possibly trying to convert them to Christianity.

*Sigh*

The home where I was raised had a Mezuzah beside the door, like every other house in my neighborhood. It was there when we first moved in. When my dad explained what was inside, it reminded me of the words I read in our Old Testament. No biggie - same writing / same God.

While we were one of three families with tree and Christmas lights, in a neighborhood of over 300, I wondered why we didn't have a Menorah glowing in our front window like all the rest. It was explained that we were Christian, not Jewish. That was the first dividing line.

Around our Easter celebration, I actually looked forward to matzo in the supermarket - I used to nibble them row-by-row as a child for a snack. There was also my neighbor's famous matzo ball soup when we sat down to the Passover Seder with them, unless it fell on Easter, at which point we had family gatherings for our holiday that day. Another fine dividing line.

In December, there were many craft and holiday flea markets held selling goods. My mom was a shop-a-holic. So after-school we were dragged to many different places to attend these events. They were many in the local temples, one at our Catholic school in the gym, and one in a parish hall from a Mormon Church. While I and my siblings towed behind my mother from table to table at these events, I had plenty of time to examine the stuff that hung from the walls. I can't read Hebrew, nor could I then. So I asked my mother about the writing in symbols that looked closer to Chinese in my young eyes than the Greco-Roman letters in which I read/write. She explained they were Hebrew and that is what the Jewish teachings were written in. We don't speak or read it because we were not Jewish. Another dividing line.

When I was still in grade school (where I attended Catholic school from grades 1-8), I received my Confirmation. Friends of ours attended it, even though they were not Christian. We also attended their Bar/Bat Mitzvahs too. In fact, several of our class trips in the later grades were to the temple to learn about Judaism. While I heard rumors that the Hebrew grade school did the same as part of a cooperative program with our Church, the majority of the kids in our area attended public school. They found our ceremonies strange and bizarre while we had some vague notion of what theirs were about. After all, Jesus, the focus of our own religious education, had celebrated Jewish holidays and practiced Jewish customs. But my neighbors understood little about our customs and holidays. Another dividing line.

High school wasn't fun for me; I attended an all-girl Catholic Academy. But unlike grade school, I had to take two school buses. I was picked up by the local high-school bus, that rounded up ALL the high-school children in the area - public, Catholic and Hebrew schools. The majority of the public school kids were Jewish. While there was more than one Catholic high school kids in my town attended, overall, in our neighborhood, we made up less than 10% and had to wear these atrocious uniforms. I believe the Hebrew school had uniforms or a dress-code too, but they were not as glaringly obvious as the plaid skirts, ties and school color blazers and sweaters with the school emblems on them. A very obvious dividing line.

We ALL were dropped off at the public school. Then the public school kids went inside (or at least had to be inside by the first bell). The rest of us stood outside as our second bus would travel from town-to-town picking up the kids for our respective high school. While this may have made sense to some administrator, it was torture for us. We had to wear clothes that distinguished us as "separate" from the others, and we were major targets for bullies, teasing and bad-mouthing both on the bus and at the public high school. Why? Because we were not Jewish. They outnumbered us; we were supposed to always forgive, so they assumed there would be no retaliation as well. We had no other way to get to our school; we had to share the ride on "their" bus. At the public school, we had to stay put while they had the opportunity to walk away when they wanted to. They would ask: Why were we living in the neighborhood anyway? It was a JEWISH neighborhood! Christians were not welcome. Even the local "Y" was a YMHA, not a YMCA.

Why were we there? My father worked hard for a living, went to night school to get a law degree and then worked long hours in "the city" (New York City) to earn a good enough living to have a big house in a nice neighborhood for his family. There was no application indicating what religious affiliation we had to have to buy the house. That would be illegal - this is America, home of religious freedom. Right? The other Christians we knew had homes half the size or smaller. Why could we not live in that neighborhood in a big house for a big family?

In the years to follow, I observed further divisions. It was OK to have friends across that religious line. It may even be acceptable to date across the dividing line, if someone better is not available. But one would never assume it's OK to marry across the dividing line... "Think of the kids; they would be confused," was an argument I heard many times - from both sides of the fence. Yet it's the same God...

*Sigh* That was three to four DECADES ago: over a generation.

I don't hold grudges; I am called not to. What was in the past stays in the past - as it should! Hate and division only begets hate, war and violence. None of which I want.

Times have changed, thankfully for the better. In my lifetime, I have seen a growing acceptance across many lines - race, religious and sexual preferences being predominant. There has become a stronger division in political and income lines in these past few years, though. My heart longs to see these reversed too...

I followed my mom back to Long Island Monday, as we are visiting with friends and family here this week as part of our holiday travel. On the way we stopped at the local strip mall to pick up a few items. In the large window before me, the local florist had a winter-scape display with a large menorah predominantly at the center with the correct number of candles aglow. Tuesday at the bowling alley as we were heading out the door, I spied the manager turning the bulb to "light" the last candle as sunset dimmed an already rainy afternoon. I am still a Christian and will always be, but these sights made me feel like "home for the holiday" more than I can express, as much as the scent of a freshly decorated Christmas tree.

We are all brothers and sisters in this world. One race, one humanity. Why do we keep dividing ourselves?

-ESA