Overheard in the checkout line at Costco:

Woman #1: Can you believe this crowd? Look, packed with Christmas shoppers.

Woman #2: Christmas shopping seems to start earlier and earlier these days.

Woman #1: Well, it’s not even Thanksgiving, but let me be the first to wish you a merry Christmas.

Woman #2: I don’t celebrate Christmas. I’m Jewish.

Woman #1: Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t know. I didn’t mean to offend you.

 

With December comes Christmas. And Christmas makes me anxious. Not because of the shoppers jamming the aisles in the supermarket and at the malls, not to mention trying to find a parking space. Not because of the constant rotation of Christmas music on the radio. And not because every program on TV has a Christmas episode, and every Christmas movie ever made is playing on the movie channels. Even Netflix is offering Christmas picks for December.

Nope, none of that really bothers me. In fact, I have favorites among the Christmas melodies, and years ago, when I had a bit of a voice, I joined an ecumenical group rehearsing Handel’s “Messiah,” which we presented in a late afternoon concert at a church in the village where we lived. The acoustics in that church, with its barrel-vaulted ceiling were extraordinary, and every Hallelujah set to Handel’s stirring composition reverberated joyously throughout the sanctuary. At the end, my family and I hurried out and raced home in time to light the Hanukkah candles at sundown.

So where is all the anxiety coming from? That’s easy. From little exchanges like the one heard at Costco. Or when a customer in a store reprimands a storeowner or salesperson that the place down the street has a menorah in the window as well Christmas decorations, and asks, ”Why don’t you?” Or when parents won’t let their children sing Christmas carols in school, or play Santa’s elves in the class play.

Maybe this is a surprising point of view for a synagogue president. You might rather be expecting me to promote the Jewish story, Jewish identity, Jewish values — Jewish values, I hear that phrase a lot, by the way. Are Jewish values so different from the values of good people whether Jewish or not?

If ever there is a time when we should be coming together, not setting up barriers, it would have to be now. At the time of this writing, innocent Jews and Palestinians are dying in a war that has no meaning for any of them. One minute they are in the loving arms of their families, and in the next, they are struggling against the unknown and mourning losses.

This is no time to turn away good wishes and the heartfelt spirit in which they are given, whether for Christmas, Hanukkah, Kwanza or just a friendly hello with no agenda attached. What’s wrong with “Thank you. Same to you.”?

Of all the holidays throughout the year — those celebrated by Jews or observed by other faiths — Christmas is the one that touches all my senses. It’s not what I see — tinsel and red bows are bright and cheerful, happy ornamentations. No complaint there. It’s not what I taste — cranberry everything — sauce, bread, pastries, stuffing, whatever. And I’m particularly fond of the port wine cheddar cheese and cranberry nut bread that appear during the holiday season. It’s not what I smell — that fresh, clean, sinus-clearing fragrance of evergreen. And it’s not what I touch either — the rosy red cheeks of my adult grandchildren making snow angels if we’re lucky enough to get a white Christmas.

And yet — the season of peace on earth, good will to all — makes me anxious. What worries me is what I might hear people say to each other.

—Sara Bloom