To the editor:
Considering the rise in global anti-semitism and the regional surge in defacement of Jewish houses of worship, I find Sophie Yarin’s opinion piece, “Fellow Jewish People, It’s Time To Get Over Hanukkah” (Daily Item, Dec. 1) particularly offensive, not only to Jews, but also to anyone she impertinently dubs “goyishe” or “Gentile” — appelations that, unfortunately, invoke separateness.
Aside from being poorly researched, crudely written, and devoid of the humor to which she may have aspired, her essay should be nothing more than a supercilious puff piece. However, its invitation to misinterpretation makes it a divisive diatribe, in stark contrast to the current social movement that embraces inclusion and diversity.
Unlike Yarin, I have never gotten “mad” when offered a “Merry Christmas.” Instead, I’ve returned the message with a smile and an occasional, “Happy Everything!”
Once in a while, depending on the well-wisher, I’ve noted that I’ll also be celebrating Chanukah, but without the apology that Yarin seems to think is due.
Her presumptions insult Jews of every denomination among us, from the devout, to the less exacting but still religious, to the secular. Her disclaimer that her point is not directed at pious Jews, but just the rest of us, is disrespectful to everyone.
No Jew needs a “representative holiday to combat Christmas.” Nobody is fighting, except Yarin — against Jews, against Christians, against herself.
She seems to have joined the ranks of that small, but vociferous, cadre of bigots who perpetuate the myth that Jews have usurped the seasonal cheer, that somehow we’ve forced Christians to use the generic, “Happy Holidays,” rather than “Merry Christmas.”
Acknowledgement and acceptance of people’s distinctions, coupled with self-respect and integrity, make a better recipe for the holiday season and food for thought throughout the year.
Back in the ‘60s, my mostly-Orthodox Jewish mother was wise enough to have Santa leave her children gifts, arranged on the sofa and carpet in a room she called “the parlor.” We had no tree, we had no eggnog, we had no mistletoe, yet we had no sense of deprivation when hearing our non-Jewish classmates and friends exclaim about their Christmas presents. Oh, yes — we had Chanukah, too.
Debora Newman
Swampscott
