Woefully Unprepared

I can recite a couple of prayers beginning with “Baruch atah Adonai” by the glow of the menorah candlelight. I also make a mean kugel.

I’m a little bit Jewish. Despite being raised in the Episcopal Church, my dad made sure to incorporate some of his family’s religious traditions into our childhood. Every Hanukkah we would light the menorah and get a bag of gelt, the gold-covered chocolate coins in a pinched net that hurt our fingers when we couldn’t wait for the scissors to open it up. My childhood playroom is filled with VHS tapes about the Maccabees.

Yet here I am, woefully unprepared to teach my own kids about this part of their family’s history and faith. This became evident this week when I took to the Holiday book box and the only Hanukkah books I found were two board books: Biscuit’s Hanukkah and Happy Hanukkah, Curious George! (Sorry, Bubbe! Just kidding, we called her Nana. But that would have been way better.)

Thankfully, Curious George gave us some good talking points. Especially the concept of mitzvah, which stopped me in my tracks while we were reading. It occurred to me while reading that my dad is a walking mitzvah — constantly in service to others. As children, he showed us that we don’t have to wait for the lighting of the menorah to be reminded to show love to others.

Self-awareness hit me that evening. Black Friday brings on this annual shift in which I become so focused on shopping and reliving my nostalgia through my children that I’m like this holiday-spinning Tasmanian Devil, until the moment we sing Silent Night by candlelight at church on Christmas Eve with the wax dripping onto my fingers. I often forget why we do this whole Christmas thing at all. 

Beckett and I brainstormed ways we could be of service. I suggested a beach clean-up or seeing if a neighbor needs us to pick up sticks in their yard. We live in a maritime forest, so he thought that idea was so ridiculous he heckled me for about five minutes. Otherwise, he was on board with getting our hands dirty helping others. Hopefully I can show him that, like his Papa, a mitzvah is a great way to celebrate what we believe, no matter where we light our candles.