Posted on 12/25/2005 10:37:22 AM PST by Alouette
I must admit that I never knew the lyrics to "Silent Night," that most famous of Christmas songs, until I was well into the prime of my life.
There was no reason I should have, though. Growing up in a tightly knit Orthodox community in New Jersey, I attended Jewish day schools and Jewish camps and was active in Jewish youth movements, as insulated from the Gentile world as anyone could possibly be.
My first real contact with non-Jews came during my college years in New York, but even then, most of my closest friends were Jewish, and my Christmas experiences, if you could call them that, were limited to an occasional sip of eggnog at a dormitory party.
Most of my adult years were spent in Israel, also among Jews, though not necessarily Orthodox ones.
Then, a few years ago, my husband, Amit, was offered a faculty position at Penn State University, with an adjunct position for me thrown in as part of the deal. It sounded like the perfect antidote to our crazy lives in Israel: a quiet college town surrounded by mountains and streams, endless kilometers of bike paths, a three-minute commute to work, great public schools with an average of 18 to 20 children per classroom. Without deliberating much, we packed up our possessions and four kids and headed out to rural America for our little adventure.
The truth is that after living so many years in Israel, we didn't give much thought to what Jewish life would be like out there in central Pennsylvania. We knew there was a small Jewish community centered around the university, one small synagogue with several hundred members, yet no full-time Jewish schools. But that was fine for us. After living so many years in Israel, we thought it would be a good idea for our children to experience something they could never experience in the Jewish state: feeling what it was like to be part of a minority.
James Carville, the political consultant and former Clinton aide, once said that Pennsylvania is Philadelphia on one side, Pittsburgh on the other, and Alabama in between. This Alabama is precisely where we landed in the summer of 2004 with four Hebrew-speaking children who had never seen snow, sung Jingle Bells or heard Silent Night.
But not for long.
Right after Thanksgiving, when the neighbors began decorating their homes with Christmas lights and trees, we were able to confirm what we had suspected from the start: that we were the only Jewish family on the block. Next to all the brightly lit and ornamented homes, many of them featuring Nativity scenes on their front yards and giant Santas on their roofs, our own unlit undecorated house stuck out like a sore thumb.
Our third child, Iddo, then five years old, pleaded with us to dress up our house like all the others. Those lights are for Christmas, we tried to explain to him, and Jewish people don't celebrate Christmas. "Not even one teeny, tiny light?" he begged.
If that's when we learned we were outsiders in the neighborhood, our children had already discovered that they were not like everyone else in their respective schools. Matan, then in fifth grade, and Tamar, in third, turned out to be the only Jewish children in their public school. Iddo had one other Jewish child in his.
It was at about this time last year, when our children had their first exposure to Christmas, that we received an invitation to an evening event at their school called the "Holiday Sing." All we were told was that the children would be performing songs for their parents that they had learned in their music classes.
How could we have known what we were in for? It all started rather innocently with the children singing what we have since learned are called "secular Christmas songs" - an oxymoron if there ever was one. Granted, the name of Christ was not mentioned in these songs, but watching my little Jewish children up there on the stage with their classmates singing Christmas classics like Jingle Bells and Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer did make me cringe.
And that wasn't the worst of it.
After the children had finished performing, a group of parents handed out sheets with the lyrics to all the songs that would be sung in the next part of the event, the group sing-along. That's where I was introduced for the first time to the lyrics of Silent Night. To say that I was stunned to find myself in an American public school surrounded by parents and children singing out verses like "Christ, the Savior is born," "Son of God, love's pure light," and "Jesus, Lord, at Thy birth" would be an understatement.
The auditorium was so crowded that Amit and I were forced to sit at opposite ends. Somehow, though, we managed to exchange horrified glances across the room. Silent Night was followed by several other religious Christian songs, and then, as if to add insult to injury, Dreidel, Dreidel, I Made it Out of Clay - a silly Hanukka song popularized in America.
After we came home and put the children to sleep, Amit and I stayed up late talking about what we should do, feeling rather sickened by the entire experience, but thankful, at least, that our children were still not fluent enough in English to understand what had been taking place around them.
What was clear to us was that singing songs glorifying "Christ, the Savior" in our children's school was a no-no. But as the new Jews on the block, we asked ourselves, should we share our concerns, risk ruining everyone else's Christmas party and having ourselves ostracized in the community, or should we simply just not attend the following year?
The decision was made for us when Tamar, now in fourth grade, joined the school choir earlier this year and informed us with great excitement that the members had begun practicing for the upcoming "Holiday Sing." The thought of our darling Tamar standing up on the stage singing Silent Night and other Christmas carols is what prompted us to action. What we didn't realize was that by taking a stand on what has become a highly sensitive issue in America today - the right of the Christian majority to celebrate Christmas wherever it wishes - we had taken sides, the wrong side it emerged, in the so-called "war against Christmas."
We asked to meet with the school principal. We were na ve enough to believe the matter could be resolved in a short, friendly chat. We'd tell her that it was very uncomfortable for us, as Jews, to take part in a school event in which religious Christian songs were being sung, and she'd say that she was terribly sorry, that she had no idea this was offensive to non-Christians, that she had no idea that Dreidel, Dreidel was not the religious equivalent of Silent Night, and the Christmas carols would be removed from the program.
But the conversation proceeded along rather different lines. When we questioned the appropriateness of having Jewish children sing songs that refer to Jesus Christ as "the Lord," the principal became defensive, arguing that there was nothing unconstitutional about singing religious songs in a public school, as long as it wasn't during school hours.
What's more, she explained to us - introducing us then to a term she would use more than once when trying to justify religious activities in her school - banning Christmas songs from the school would be "robbing the babies." She also warned us that we might want to think twice about pursuing the matter, because forcing our views onto other parents in the school might have the effect of "having fingers being pointed at your children."
Having made her own position crystal clear, the principal then absolved herself of any responsibility, pointing out that the "Holiday Sing" was not a school event, but rather a PTO event (a distinction we have yet to comprehend), and therefore it was best that we address our grievances to the PTO.
We did that several weeks later, and the PTO not only "got it" but voted unanimously to take all religious Christian songs out of the program. Unprompted by us, the PTO also decided to rename the event "Winterfest" rather than "Holiday Sing." The only person attending the meeting who expressed reservations about the decision was the principal, who suggested we all think carefully about the ramifications of "robbing the babies" of their Christian songs.
We assumed the entire issue was behind us, until we received the invitation to the upcoming "Holiday Sing" - not "Winterfest" as had been decided - and realized that something was amiss. A few phone calls later, we understood that the principal had bowed to pressure from several dissenting parents and had unilaterally overruled the PTO decision to ban religious Christian songs from the school event. All this, without bothering to inform those of us who would obviously be offended by their inclusion.
The next day we called the superintendent of the school district and asked to have our children transferred to another school in the district right after Christmas break, a school I knew had other Jewish children and a much more ethnically diverse population.
With the encouragement and support of the local Jewish community, we also requested a meeting with the superintendent to present our grievances, not threatening legal action, but then again not ruling it out entirely.
At the same time, a far bigger drama involving the issue of separation of church and state was being played out in another Pennsylvania school district not far away from us, in this case over the constitutionality of teaching "intelligent design" in public school biology classes. The ensuing court battle, which made international headlines, ended last week when a federal judge ruled that teaching intelligent design - which holds that the universe is so complex that it had to have been created by a higher power - is the equivalent of promoting religion in school and, therefore, unconstitutional.
We were somewhat amused by the reaction of one of the school board members who had been behind the attempt to change the biology curriculum out there in Dover County, Pennsylvania. "We didn't lose; we were robbed," he said. Once again, that reference to robbery.
The day Tamar told her classmates she was leaving the school, I encountered the father of a classmate of hers, a reverend of a local Lutheran congregation. "Why not?" he asked, when I said we did not feel religious songs should be sung in American public schools, in response to his queries about our decision to pull Tamar out. "I think it's intolerant to demand that Christians not be able to sing their songs."
And by the way, he said, he was happy that his daughter had had the opportunity to meet a Jewish child and learn "lots of things" about the Jewish religion. "Tamar taught my daughter that 'shalom' means hi, bye and peace," he said.
Sad, but true. Just a-year-and-a-half in America, and my children now feel more Jewish than they ever did in Israel. Tamar understands exactly why we've pulled her out of school. Iddo, who has a general idea, has found his own way to assert his beliefs. After complaining for several days that a child in his class had "bragged" to him that Christmas was a better holiday than Hanukka, he decided to take revenge. "I told all the kids in my class at lunch that Santa was dead," he informed me the other day.
I'm not so sure that Iddo is convinced, though, because the next day he asked me if he could send a hate letter to Santa. "Why would you want to do that?" I asked. "Because he's a big fat jerk," he replied.
We did not attend the "Holiday Sing" this year. But I know that our presence was felt. Otherwise, how to explain why the principal, as reported to me by others who attended the event, greeted the audience with the following words: "I know I'm taking a risk by saying this, but Merry Christmas everyone."
Thanks to this attitude, I find myself today painfully familiar with the lyrics to Silent Night. In fact, waging my own private Christmas war has forced me to learn them by heart.
I realize that, FRiend, and I didn't think you were.
People with a reasonable ability to form coherent thought should always examine the reasons (and their motives) for "feeling" the way they do. For the same reason that I have discovered that "secular jews" are, as a rule, pushy/whiny liberals, I have also discovered that when I really get pi$$ed off about something, I am usually in the wrong. :)
Therefore, I've been forced to carefully examine my "feelings" about secular jews - I dislike them because they are liberal; not because of their Jewish heritage or their apparent lack of religious sentiment.
In the vein of "what percent of a population is needed to create a stereotype" I think that number would vary widely - depending upon the "loudness" of that percentage. For example, look at the homosexual community - how few of the "flaming" queers have managed to push their agenda on the rest of society - and the stereotype that activity has engendered.
I don't care what anyone is, as long as he or she shows some degree of respect for other's beliefs.
I am a born again Christian with a deep and "rabid" love of Israel and the Jewish people. I've worn a Star of David -and, now that I think about it,never a cross- for over 30 years, I have learned some Hebrew and I have had not a few head buttings with some antisemitic idiots...
I guess I have not converted because I would be a very lonely Jewish momma!
My 2nd grade teacher, Mrs. Lindner, (a wonderful Jewish woman) taught us all about draidels (sp?), and taught us to do that traditional Jewish song where everyone locks arms and dances around in a circle.(forget the song's name, please help me here)
She also taught us many different Jewish stories and traditions, which I cherish to this day.
By the way, it was a public school here in Bucks County, Pennsylvania and all the kids loved it, or so I remember.
I don't remember one complaint from anyone either, and I'm certain 95 percent were Christian.
If I don't move down South, I plan on retiring to that "Alabama" portion someday. It sounds like bliss compared to being this close to Philly.
This really grinds my gears. La dee dah HYPHENATED name. Either use your daddy's name or your husband's name, to use both is just affected BS. Does she shovel both names on the kids or will she let them choose which name they want when they turn 18?
I wouldn't want to be named Schejter. Change one letter and it means something nasty in German.
ACK! Go Red Raiders!!
Just because you disagree with them completely doesn't make them a nazi.
It detracts from your argument, making a blanket statement like such.
I'd imagine there always was a strong Jewish presence at Penn State. My father spoke of having a Jewish friend on campus when he was up at PSU in the early 40's. He tutored "Benny" in math and engineering, and they became friends.
I have to ask: just what the heck was this woman expecting? The U.S.A. is aleggedly 85% Christian. Up in Centre County, it's more like 99% Christian. Even way down here in Delaware County, is not only overwhelmingly Christian, it's overwhelmingly Catholic (there are about as many Catholic schools as public schools, and they tend to be a lot bigger). Did she really think that people would sterilize an afer-hours, 100% voluntary Christmas celebration so her children would be shielded from (ooooooh) Christian influences? I suppose we Christians should just all go out and shoot ourselves while we're at it. She needs to take a chill pill and a tolerance lesson from my (Jewish) uncle and first cousins (though not a political one, since they're flaming libs--wink).
Strangely, Professor Maltz-Schejter whines and moans about being "the only, lonely Jews" in town but at the same time shunned the Chabad family, probably because she thought they were "too religious."
When my daughter was in grade school they made menorrah's out of construction paper, learned about driedels (sp) and also learned the driedel song. I was not offended whatsoever and would never have dreamed objecting to those lessons or the dreidle song being included in the music program.
The author is very insecure.
If a woman wants to keep her maiden name, thats great.... Especially after seeing the hassles that my own wife had to deal with in changing hers after we were married. :-) If she wants to change her name, that's fine, too. But a hyphenated name is just plain wishy-washy. It implies, to me at least, that the husband's name isn't good enough, but she still wants all of the benefits that it carries.
Her husband Mr Schejterdoes not rate very well as a prof and I see his wife is a journalist. Typical mainstream liberal - this is not a religious issue - its just yellow journalism.
I wonder if the public schools in Israel are entirely secular? (Don't really know here). If I took my children to, say a middle eastern country, I wouldn't expect that they wouldn't be exposed to other religions. In fact, I would expect that they would teach my children with the customs and widespread religious observances of their area, and it would be my job to teach my children at home about our family's customs and religion. I don't think I'm particularly intolerant, but I am getting pretty tired of all these people coming here (rural PA) from other places and telling us what we have to do for them. As locals, we were raised in the tradition of "god helps those who help themselves". I was in school here 20-30 years ago, and we had Jewish Chilton in our classes then. I fail to see how her 3 children suddenly became the only Jewish children in our public schools. I wonder if the Schools District would have school census information like that I could get...
In addition to Jewish folks, we have plenty of Chinese, Hindu's, Asians and Middle Easterners (many Iranians fled here when the Shah fell). I'm kind of offended that she portrays us as so rural and backward; in the school district that's located at the home of Penn State, we actually have a pretty high minority rate - but they are from all around the world, drawn (like Judy) to the chance to experience a rural yet academic life. It's a culturally diverse area, and a great place to have your children see diversity all around them. My children celebrated the Hindu Festival of Lights several times; several Native American events that I can't recall specifically; Swedish Christmas traditions, and Chinese New Year (that's those that I recall).
Interestingly enough, my nephew came home from the same school district (he's in 3rd grade here, like Tamar) saying one of the kids was telling everyone that Santa wasn't real.
Thanks -- I've heard some good things about Vineyard churches. There's actually one here -- didn't know that until I followed the link you posted. Have e-mailed them -- so, we'll see...
Actually, if this was a PTO (Parent Teacher Organization) event, nothing in it was required. Our schools, here in Rural PA (including the school district she's talking about) do not have any required choir - all participation in any kind of choir is completely voluntary. Even music classes do little singing, and all of that is completely secular. She needs to learn the difference between the School District and the completely voluntary participation in PTO. Maybe she could start her own JPTO (Jewish Parent Teacher Organization), and they could sponsor holiday events where they sing Hanukkah songs. Contrary to what she apparently believes, she does NOT have the only Jewish Children in her school district. My son went there too, and one of his best friends was Jewish. They had a group of fellow's they celebrated their holidays with in the community surrounding Penn State.
PSU had a very active Hillel Center when I was there in the early 70's. Wonderful programs, discussion groups, group dinners. I attended a few of their programs.
You've got that right! While they say that little of the money for academics comes from tax dollars (true, PA is not very generous with their tax dollars for state supported higher education), they get huge amounts of money for research contracts! USDA has their own office at Penn State; many departments do research for defense agencies. Lots of our money goes to them, and they bring in lots of people who want to change our way of life.
Disclaimer: Opinions posted on Free Republic are those of the individual posters and do not necessarily represent the opinion of Free Republic or its management. All materials posted herein are protected by copyright law and the exemption for fair use of copyrighted works.