Back Again©*
December 24th.
For as long as he could remember, Stuart felt an emotional and familial tie to his Judaism. However, although he would never entertain the possibility of missing the holidays and celebrations that his family held to be sacred, there was something missing, something inside of him.
He sat quietly, with no expression on his face, in his living room and thought to himself, “I attend the High Holiday services each year and fast as commanded in Leviticus. I light the candles and said the blessings for Hanukkah.” A small flush colored his expression as he continued to think, “But Passover, it was my favorite, at least in the past, because it often was at the time of my birthday.” Stuart was unambiguously Jewish and never hesitated to let others know that.
His late wife, Vicki, may her memory be for a blessing, wasn’t Jewish, but she supported him, often attending High Holiday services with him. At Hanukkah she was always at his side to light the Hanukkah candles. Even her family, who were not Jewish, respected his Judaism and was interested in what the various traditions meant.
Unlike the rest of her family, Vicki could not commit to any organized religion. However, the closeness to her family that Christmas represented was very important to Stuart and Vicki. His eyes moistened. He mused, “Vicki was so artistic and creative. She drew me emotionally into the celebration. Both of us, Vicki and I, at our house, and her family when we visited theirs, enjoyed trimming the tree and exchanging presents for each other and for all of the family.“ Stuart and Vicki didn’t go to Christmas services, but until they moved to Texas, they did make pilgrimage to her parents’ house and to the grandparents each year. “Hanukkah and Christmas, but mostly Christmas”, Stuart continued to muse, “It was joyous for us. And those Christmas card wishes, ‘Peace on Earth and Good Will to Man’, never felt trite.” Stuart wiped his face. “It was real to us.”
They were living in Texas when Vicki died that July and it felt natural to him to continue their traditions. They always bought their Christmas tree on December 18th. That was her grandmother’s birthday. They would trim the tree together and hang stockings. That year, though, Stuart didn’t start to think about the tree until the 18th. When he finally bought the tree, it was the 22nd. He put the tinsel and lights on and the tree skirt at the base, but he couldn’t get himself to hang the stockings or the mistletoe. There was little joy.
This year, he again started to think about the tree on the 18th but he didn’t go out to get a tree until this afternoon, December 24th. Going to four different tree lots, all that he could find were trees that were completely unacceptable; too short, many missing branches, extremely dry or bent over, as if they just couldn’t stand up straight, and there weren’t many of those. This time he didn’t buy a tree and was so sad that he cried when he got home. Slumped in the chair, he thought to himself, “I started lighting the Hanukkah candles two weeks ago and completed the rituals over the next eight days. I chanted the blessings, but there was no joy then and there sure isn’t any now.”
Not wanting to cook, he hardly ever did lately; he went out to Jack-In-The-Box and picked up his “Christmas Eve” dinner. When he got home to eat, he put on some music, but then immediately turned it off. As he choked down his Breakfast Jack and fries, he thought, “I can’t stand this. I miss her so much. I am nothing without her. I don’t even feel Jewish anymore.”
Sitting at the kitchen table, other thoughts started to creep into Stuart’s mind, “I am Jewish. I’m not Christian. Christmas was her holiday. I can’t celebrate Christmas on my own. It is not my holiday! I loved, I still love Vicki. I always will, but she is gone. It’s not her fault or mine, but I have to go on living and I am Jewish.”
It was too late to get to Temple that night, so Stuart decided to go to Erev Shabbat, Sabbath Eve, services the next Friday, December 31st.
Glad to attend and participate in the prayers, Stuart, nonetheless felt very alone. One of the few worshipers there asked him to join in for Oneg Shabbat, Joy of Sabbath, for sweets and fellowship, but he declined. Never one to mix easily he feared being rejected by strangers. Wondering if he could ever feel at home, he pondered if there was some other way to contribute to the congregation. A couple of weeks passed, but finally Stuart called the synagogue office and was connected to Nancy, the Synagogue Director.
He asked, “Is there anything I can do to help in the office? I’m good with computers.” Nancy said yes and asked him to stop by Sunday morning at 10:30.
Arriving there early, he was greeted by no one. He kept his head down, went into the office, and nervously asked the receptionist for Nancy. A few minutes later, Nancy came out, greeted him warmly, and led him to her office.
“How can I help you?” she asked. After some discussion, she told Stuart that she did data entries every Tuesday evening. “At last,” he thought to himself, “I can do something for the tribe.”
Stuart continued to work with Nancy each week for some time. Every once in a while, he would run into Rabbi Beurger and they would greet, until, one day, the Rabbi invited him to his office to chat. Stuart told him his story. Sensing Stuart’s need to rejoin the community, he asked him to say Kiddush, the blessings over the wine at the March 3rd Erev Shabbat service. For Stuart, this was the tipping point. Grinning, he whispered, to himself, “I am back again.”
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*This piece was originally published in Writings from the Edge, September 2020, the in-house magazine of the Edgewater Library Writers Group, Chicago, Illinois.