To me, music is an essential and indispensable part of Christmas, as it not only sets the mood, but underscores it and maintains it throughout the season. I have arranged and conducted many, many seasonal concerts over time, and have had the joy of making up concert programs on many occasions, either when our music school held concerts and recitals, or when I conducted various choral groups such as the Okanagan Symphony Choir. There are also certain Christmas songs and carols that I just have to hear each year to help with the annual seasonal cheer, and not just the well-known ones. Having sung Handel’s Messiah many times in many situations, like it or not, it is now a part of my musical soul and will always be so, regardless of my religious beliefs or non-beliefs. Over the years, I have developed a love for Christmas music that seems to transcend my original roots. ![]() But, to be honest, I have always found the music to be less than representative of the occasion, unlike Christmas with its vast treasury of musical gems and masterpieces written by a variety of famous composers over centuries. Hanukkah often falls within the same time frame as Christmas and inevitably, out came the dredels and the menorah with the annual candle lighting over the Hanukkah period. My own family has always celebrated both Hanukkah and Christmas in our own way. I was and am alas, not a particularly religious person, but I have always appreciated the more secular aspects of my roots, especially regarding food, gift giving and helping others. To their credit, they succeeded in helping me enjoy both events with a clear conscience throughout my life.Īs an adult and a qualified music educator, I later developed my own philosophy regarding the Christmas/Hanukkah dilemma, and this was made easier as I became a music teacher in schools where seasonal concerts were mandatory.Īt Christmas time, I often found myself conducting concerts in various churches, and prior to that sang masses and cantatas in college choirs. ![]() I would include my parents in this ‘succumbing to the season’ syndrome, but I could not help feeling a little sorry for them as they desperately tried to hang on to their Jewish roots, for my sake mainly, and yet exhibit the necessary ‘Goodwill to All Men’ dictum associated with this time of year. So even though, from the religious standpoint, our family did not wish or need to participate, the overall neighborly, goodĬheer and fellowship associated with the season, was impossible to resist. Food was still scarce and had to be rationed, buildings had to be rebuilt, and life was still far from normal as we know it today. Yes, the allies had won the War but the UK was devastated both physically and emotionally even as victors. Post-war England was to some extent a dreary and desperate place. I remember it as a particularly warm time of year, and by that I don’t mean climate-wise. The Christmas season was always memorable for me, especially as a child growing up in the suburbs of London, UK. And then on the day itself, they were truly buried beneath the plethora of gifts, food and social gatherings that were inevitably part of the Christmas season. But every year, all these questions remained eclipsed beneath the anticipation and excitement that preceded Christmas morning. It did cross my mind also to ask myself why I always asked how many days till Christmas instead of how long to Hanukkah. As a younger child, my parents kept alive the illusion of Santa Claus, along with the traditional plate of cookies and glass of milk by the fireplace.Įven then, I occasionally wondered a) how a fat man could possibly get down the chimney carrying a huge (in my mind) bag of toys, and more puzzling b) why we, as a Jewish family, would be getting involved in all this every year when we also celebrated Hanukkah. Since I was a child, I can always remember asking that question.
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