My younger daughter, Carly, told me three years ago that her friend wished she, too, was Jewish. I asked her why, thinking she'd relay how she told her friend about the wonderful traditions, the beauty of our holidays, or some other appealing aspect of Judaism. Instead, she replied that her friend wished that she was Jewish because "you get eight presents for Hannukah". I don't think I've witnessed too many kids who didn't end up with their fair share of Christmas presents, yet the idea that Jewish children get eight gifts seems to be the aspect of Judaism that most intrigues the minds of grade-schoolers everywhere.
That year, my wife and I made the decision that the gift on one of the nights would be that our family actually gave rather than receiving. We chose to donate our time for one of the nights to serving food to houseless people at the Milwaukee Rescue Mission. We chose it because it was one of rare charitable organizations who allow young children to volunteer. I wouldn't say that my daughters have been thrilled with the idea of giving up a gift and less so in learning that we'd be going out on a cold night to be put to work somewhere. Still, it's one thing to tell your children that there are less-fortunate people in the world, but it's another to have them serve them firsthand.
Currently, an economic downtown is forcing many to readjust their holiday spending habits. For us, however, it's not a matter of money; Hannukah's always consisted of one big gift followed by nights of small, often shared, gifts. Instead, it's a matter of principle. This year, we've decided that while we look forward to eight nights of latkes, dreidel, and candle-lighting, only 6 of those nights now will bring presents. Something just changed with us this year. Maybe it was the kids' sense of entitlement to eight presents, or maybe it's the fact that Hannukah, technically a minor holiday in the Jewish calendar, has given in to secular pressures to become a gift-giving extravaganza. For all I know, it may partly even be to the cries of putting the "Christ back into Christmas" that's triggered in us a desire to revisit the meaning of Hannukah foremost and put the presents second.
Now, in the interest of full disclosure, our kids' final take won't be limited to just the six Hannukah gifts from us. By the time relatives' contributions are all figured in, their haul from December will only look mildly diminished compared to previous holiday seasons. What's wrong with a gift? Nothing, and there's especially nothing wrong with it as part of a holiday celebration. We certainly don't see it as an all-or-nothing thing, rather, just something that may have become more than it really needs to be for us. I can't imagine that anyone else finds it easy to think of eight gifts for a person and with two children, sixteen enjoyable gifts is a real challenge to not only think of, but to make room for in our home. We're hoping that while the number of gifts we exchange during future holiday seasons gradually lessen, our understanding and appreciation for the true meaning of any holiday we celebrate increases. Anyone for a five-nights-of-gifts Hannukah?