超越信仰的圣誕樹

My ex-husband and I divided the holidays easily in our divorce： our son， Jake， would celebrate 2）Hanukkah with me and Christmas with his father. A few traditions carried over into my house—hanging stockings and Santa—and as I explained to Jake， Santa came to everyone’s house. “When you get back from your Dad’s， Santa will have filled up your stocking，” I said. So we left Santa cookies and milk. And then， like a good Jew， while Jake was celebrating the birth of Jesus Christ at his father’s， I went to the movies.

I remarried a Jewish man， Andy， who didn’t seem to mind the stockings. I even 3）monogrammed a stocking for our newborn daughter， Elke， and despite some 4）snarky comments about the spirit of the season， we merrily rolled along in our interfaith blended family. Until one day， as Jake circled holiday requests from the Back to Basics Toys catalog， he asked， “Mommy， do you celebrate Christmas？”

“I celebrate whatever holiday you celebrate，” I said. He was my son—wasn’t this the truth？ Yet， it quickly became one of those parenting moments where you long for a do-over. If I celebrated Christmas， wouldn’t I have a tree？ Wouldn’t there be a wreath on the door？ Santa dessert plates？ Soy nog？ At the very least， as per our custody arrangement， wouldn’t I have Jake everyother-year on Dec. 25th？

I couldn’t ask to split Christmas with my ex. It was the only holiday that mattered to him. This was part of the brutal reality of divorce； your children don’t get to spend every holiday with you. As his mother， of course， I wanted to make everything better， but there was no way out of this one.

“I don’t celebrate Christmas， honey，” I said. 5）Harangued with guilt， I 6）backtracked. I praised our stocking tradition. I professed the amazingness of Hanukkah. The 7）dreidel game！ None of it replaced his want for a Christmas tree with presents underneath. At Mommy’s house.

That night， as a 8）neurotic Jewish mother in crisis， I told Andy， “We need to get a Christmas tree.”

Andy was brought up in a more conservative Jewish family than mine. “Jews don’t celebrate Christmas，“ he said. This was coming from a man who adored my son. They bonded over Star Wars and fart jokes early on.

Still， I was defensive. “There’s a little boy in our house who does celebrate Christmas，” I said.“And soon enough， that little boy’s sister is going to want to celebrate Christmas， too.”

We stared at Elke in her bouncy seat. She was far from demanding anything more than a bottle.

My husband， the 9）Grinch， marched upstairs in a cloud of “bah， 10）humbugs.”

If I learned anything about marriage the first time around， convincing your partner of your position doesn’t work. Everyone is entitled to their own feelings. Just because you think it should be so doesn’t mean your spouse has to agree.

Of course， I saw Andy’s point. We were Jewish. We were married under a 11）chuppah. By a 12）rabbi. Signed a 13）ketubah. Even Jake is Jewish—his father and I decided long before our （failed） marriage that our child would attend Hebrew school. Jake has my grandfather’s Jewish name. Zelig. He had a 14）bris. （Granted， the bris was on Christmas Day， but this is what happens when you have a child born on December 17th. Call it coincidence.） Maybe a no-tree policy was something I’d have to accept， and in turn， help Jake accept. Christmas is not a holiday you celebrate at Mommy’s. Christmas is a holiday your father celebrates.

Another Jewish mother might be a better woman than I； but telling my wide-eyed kid there was no Christmas felt like a horrible betrayal， 15）akin to telling him there’s no tooth fairy.

So I made a case for Christmas. Take the religion out of it， I told Andy. For most of our nonJewish friends， Christmas was as unconnected to Jesus as love was to Valentine’s Day. Christmas trees were 16）pagan traditions， not religious. I’d string the tree with wintery ornaments. No Santa 17）chachkas whatsoever. I even mentioned Andy’s grandmother who， according to 18）folklore， used to put up her own Christmas tree.

“I don’t think that’s true，” he said. “I don’t remember a tree.”

But Andy’s older sister confirmed it. “My parents asked my grandmother to stop doing the tree when I was about 6，” she said. Too confusing for four Jewish kids from Long Island.

In a 19）last ditch effort， I did what any mother who wants to bring a 20）nondenominational Christmas tree into her Jewish home does. I opened the Pottery Barn catalog. Jam-packed between snowy settings and 21）banisters 22）draped in holly stood a tree decked out with musical instruments， snowflakes， 23）peace signs and ornaments that read“give hope，” “give love” and， better， “give peace.”

I ripped out the photo of the tree. It was all glimmery and sparkly like a disco queen making a political statement. Andy was a hippie； he’d love it.

“See， look，” I said. “We can have a peace tree. Horns. Bells. A Buddha instead of a star on top，” I said. “We can do it our own way. It doesn’t even have to be Christmas.”

“A peace tree，” he said， “I like it.”

24）George Bailey had Clarence. I had the Pottery Barn catalog.

The next day， I told Jake about the tree. He whipped out a blank piece of paper and furiously scribbled down his list for Santa.“Mom， how do you spell Yoda’s Dagobah Hut？”

Andy sat down at the table next to Jake.“We can call it 25）Festivus，” he said.

And that was fine with me. Though it didn’t matter what we called it. In fact， we didn’t need to call it anything at all. We just needed to plug in the lights.

離婚后，我和前夫?qū)偃瞻才抛髁撕唵蔚膭澐郑何覀兊膬鹤淤Z克會和我一起過光明節(jié)，和他父親慶祝圣誕節(jié)。有一些風(fēng)俗被帶進(jìn)了我的家里——掛起圣誕襪，“迎接”圣誕老人——我向賈克解釋說，圣誕老人會到每一個人的家里。“你從爸爸家回來后，圣誕老人就會在你的襪子里塞滿禮物了，”我說。因此我們會給圣誕老人準(zhǔn)備曲奇餅干和牛奶。然后，像一個優(yōu)秀的猶太人一樣，當(dāng)賈克在父親家慶祝耶穌誕辰的時候，我則去看電影。

我與一個名叫安迪的猶太人再婚了，他并不介意家里掛起圣誕襪。我甚至還將我們剛出生的女兒艾爾克的名字首字母繡在一只大襪子上。盡管人們對這個慶祝季的初衷已有微言，我們卻依然在這個多宗教交融的家庭里樂在其中。直到有一天，賈克一邊在“回歸本源玩具店”的目錄冊上圈出心儀的節(jié)日禮物，一邊問我：“媽媽，你慶祝圣誕節(jié)嗎？”

“你慶祝什么節(jié)日我就慶祝什么節(jié)日，”我說。他是我的兒子——這不就是事實(shí)嗎？然而，這很快就變成了其中一個你渴望有機(jī)會重來的育兒時刻。如果我慶祝圣誕節(jié)，我不是該擺上一棵圣誕樹嗎？門上得掛一個圣誕花環(huán)？還有圣誕甜點(diǎn)拼盤、大豆蛋奶酒？至少，就監(jiān)護(hù)安排而言，我不就應(yīng)該每隔一年和賈克慶祝一次圣誕節(jié)嗎？

我不能要求我的前夫?qū)⑹フQ假期切分開。那是他唯一在乎的節(jié)日。這是跟隨離婚而來的部分殘酷事實(shí)，你的孩子沒辦法與你共度每一個節(jié)日。作為他的母親，我當(dāng)然希望把每一件事都做得更好，然而這件事卻另當(dāng)別論。……