To Gift Or Not To Gift?!
There are a lot of articles circulating at the moment about needless gifting during this holiday season. One piece, in particular, was brought to my attention and has since sparked many a conversation. The author, a Rabbi and leader within his community, insisted that this Chanukah (Hanukah), more than ever, it’s necessary to gift our kids with more. Needless to say the general response to this article was that of anger and frustration. If 2020 has taught us anything it’s that we don’t need to consume more. Excessive consumption, in a way, is what has got us into this mess in the first place. However, I have to agree with this Rabbi on some level. That this year has been tough for everyone, particularly our children, so giving them something to look forward to is necessary now more than ever. As someone who grew up in a small country town, poor and celebrating Christmas, who now lives comfortably in Bondi (an admittedly affluent beach neighbourhood in Sydney's eastern suburbs), I find myself in this weird in-between-mindset on the topic of the holiday season (as I do with many aspects of my Judaism).
I was raised by a single mum who had no money, a bunch of siblings, sometimes step-siblings, a shit car, an average home, and lots of wealthy friends. Everything I wanted during the year, big or small, I was told to “put on the birthday/Christmas list”. Christmas and birthdays were the ONLY days I was ever afforded anything new and those days were so damn special. Sure, because I was a kid and kids like being spoiled but also because on those days, for a moment, I felt like my peers. I felt normal. I felt like the “stuff” was finally a way for me to express who I really was. New clothes to show my true style. A new Barbie toy to help me get lost in an imaginary world that I could never imagine living in real life (i.e. the horse and stables or the dream home). Those days were a huge relief for me even as a kid. Not only because of the presents but because for a single day we weren't focused on the hardships we regularly faced. It was a necessary pause, made even more special by the rare presence of some gifts. These days when I catch myself using the phrases “it’s like Christmas morning” or “all your birthdays came at once”, I am speaking about a genuine feeling of fortune, I am speaking about sincere gratitude, I am speaking about a very real nostalgia.
Last year my eldest was three and I realised he was now old enough to appreciate Chanukah. But just as he started to appreciae the lead up to Chanuka, I also noticed that he had become old enough to notice Christmas all around him too, including from my own family (who we still visit for Christmas day and who give my kids presents). It was at this point that I realised that if my kids were going to live this dual experience, i.e. observant Jews living in a Christian country with a loving and involved non-Jewish family, then it wasn’t my job to hide Christmas from him. It wasn’t my job to teach him to ignore it or turn a blind eye. Rather it was my job to allow the two to co-exist and enhance what was important to us as a family; Chanukah.
So I made a conscious effort to take my kids to public menorah lightings, parties, boat cruises and festivals. They ate donuts and chocolate gelt and latkes for breakfast, lunch and dinner. All of the traditional things we do during the Festival of Lights. But I also gave them gifts. I sewed little bags and numbered them 1 - 8 and every morning my children would come down stairs, go to the numbered bag that correlated to the day of Chanukah and they would retrieve a little present from inside. Not because I was trying to make it Christmas-y or because I was trying to compete or even to try and make some new morphed reality of my old life and new, but because to me gifts signify something special is happening - like a birthday, a wedding or an anniversary. A chag (festival).
My kids are experiencing a very different upbringing to me - we are blessed that we can afford to give them most things. The gifts I gave, and will continue to give, were small. Sometimes some chocolate, sometimes a pair of socks, sometimes a little car or a book or something to craft. But it was something for each day of Chanukah. It served as a reminder that each day they should be excited to celebrate this Chag and that they don't need to be distracted by the fairy lights and Christmas trees and incredibly catchy songs playing non-stop at the local shopping centre. It was a daily reminder that what we have is worth celebrating just as much, if not more. The messages they’re getting from the world around them may be to the contrary, but I am here to remind them otherwise. What we have is special. What we have is miraculous.
I guess my point is this: My kids may be fortunate not to stuggle in the same ways I did growing up and we certainly don’t need more stuff (I feel like I’m drowning in stuff), but it has been a really shit year for kids, especially those kids who have experienced 2nd and 3rd waves of Covid-19. Yes, “kids are resilient”, but they also often suffer in silence for the sake of their parents. They genuinely don’t want to upset us or make our lives harder. They can read us better than we think. They hear our short tempers and the worry in our voices. They see the frustration in our frown lines and, sadly, our desperation to be away from them at times. Whether you have money to spend or not, the experience these kids have had in 2020 has been poor, so giving them a couple days where things feel, not just normal, but better than normal; however that manifests in your house, should be embraced for their sake. I’m not the type of mum to wrap my kids in cotton wool - I grew up tough and my parenting kind of reflects that a lot of the time. But I also know when to let my walls down and add a little bit of magic into their lives. It doesn’t always have to be with presents, but they certainly don’t hurt.