学文网My ex-husband and I divided the holidays easily in our divorce： our son， Jake， would celebrate 2）Hanukkah with me and Christmas with his father. A few traditions carried over into my house―hanging stockings and Santa―and as I explained to Jake， Santa came to everyone’s house. “When you get back from your Dad’s， Santa will have filled up your stocking，” I said. So we left Santa cookies and milk. And then， like a good Jew， while Jake was celebrating the birth of Jesus Christ at his father’s， I went to the movies.
I remarried a Jewish man， Andy， who didn’t seem to mind the stockings. I even 3）monogrammed a stocking for our newborn daughter， Elke， and despite some 4）snarky comments about the spirit of the season， we merrily rolled along in our interfaith blended family. Until one day， as Jake circled holiday requests from the Back to Basics Toys catalog， he asked， “Mommy， do you celebrate Christmas？”
“I celebrate whatever holiday you celebrate，” I said. He was my son―wasn’t this the truth？ Yet， it quickly became one of those parenting moments where you long for a do-over. If I celebrated Christmas， wouldn’t I have a tree？ Wouldn’t there be a wreath on the door？ Santa dessert plates？ Soy nog？ At the very least， as per our custody arrangement， wouldn’t I have Jake everyother-year on Dec. 25th？
I couldn’t ask to split Christmas with my ex. It was the only holiday that mattered to him. This was part of the brutal reality of divorce； your children don’t get to spend every holiday with you. As his mother， of course， I wanted to make everything better， but there was no way out of this one.
“I don’t celebrate Christmas， honey，” I said. 5）Harangued with guilt， I 6）backtracked. I praised our stocking tradition. I professed the amazingness of Hanukkah. The 7）dreidel game！ None of it replaced his want for a Christmas tree with presents underneath. At Mommy’s house.
That night， as a 8）neurotic Jewish mother in crisis， I told Andy， “We need to get a Christmas tree.”
Andy was brought up in a more conservative Jewish family than mine. “Jews don’t celebrate Christmas，“ he said. This was coming from a man who adored my son. They bonded over Star Wars and fart jokes early on.
Still， I was defensive. “There’s a little boy in our house who does celebrate Christmas，” I said.“And soon enough， that little boy’s sister is going to want to celebrate Christmas， too.”
We stared at Elke in her bouncy seat. She was far from demanding anything more than a bottle.
My husband， the 9）Grinch， marched upstairs in a cloud of “bah， 10）humbugs.”
If I learned anything about marriage the first time around， convincing your partner of your position doesn’t work. Everyone is entitled to their own feelings. Just because you think it should be so doesn’t mean your spouse has to agree.
Of course， I saw Andy’s point. We were Jewish. We were married under a 11）chuppah. By a 12）rabbi. Signed a 13）ketubah. Even Jake is Jewish―his father and I decided long before our （failed） marriage that our child would attend Hebrew school. Jake has my grandfather’s Jewish name. Zelig. He had a 14）bris. （Granted， the bris was on Christmas Day， but this is what happens when you have a child born on December 17th. Call it coincidence.） Maybe a no-tree policy was something I’d have to accept， and in turn， help Jake accept. Christmas is not a holiday you celebrate at Mommy’s. Christmas is a holiday your father celebrates.
Another Jewish mother might be a better woman than I； but telling my wide-eyed kid there was no Christmas felt like a horrible betrayal， 15）akin to telling him there’s no tooth fairy.
So I made a case for Christmas. Take the religion out of it， I told Andy. For most of our nonJewish friends， Christmas was as unconnected to Jesus as love was to Valentine’s Day. Christmas trees were 16）pagan traditions， not religious. I’d string the tree with wintery ornaments. No Santa 17）chachkas whatsoever. I even mentioned Andy’s grandmother who， according to 18）folklore， used to put up her own Christmas tree.
“I don’t think that’s true，” he said. “I don’t remember a tree.”
But Andy’s older sister confirmed it. “My parents asked my grandmother to stop doing the tree when I was about 6，” she said. Too confusing for four Jewish kids from Long Island.
In a 19）last ditch effort， I did what any mother who wants to bring a 20）nondenominational Christmas tree into her Jewish home does. I opened the Pottery Barn catalog. Jam-packed between snowy settings and 21）banisters 22）draped in holly stood a tree decked out with musical instruments， snowflakes， 23）peace signs and ornaments that read“give hope，” “give love” and， better， “give peace.”
I ripped out the photo of the tree. It was all glimmery and sparkly like a disco queen making a political statement. Andy was a hippie； he’d love it.
“See， look，” I said. “We can have a peace tree. Horns. Bells. A Buddha instead of a star on top，” I said. “We can do it our own way. It doesn’t even have to be Christmas.”
“A peace tree，” he said， “I like it.”
24）George Bailey had Clarence. I had the Pottery Barn catalog.
The next day， I told Jake about the tree. He whipped out a blank piece of paper and furiously scribbled down his list for Santa.“Mom， how do you spell Yoda’s Dagobah Hut？”
Andy sat down at the table next to Jake.“We can call it 25）Festivus，” he said.
And that was fine with me. Though it didn’t matter what we called it. In fact， we didn’t need to call it anything at all. We just needed to plug in the lights.
离婚后，我和前夫对假日安排作了简单的划分：我们的儿子贾克会和我一起过光明节，和他父亲庆祝圣诞节。有一些风俗被带进了我的家里――挂起圣诞袜，“迎接”圣诞老人――我向贾克解释说，圣诞老人会到每一个人的家里。“你从爸爸家回来后，圣诞老人就会在你的袜子里塞满礼物了，”我说。因此我们会给圣诞老人准备曲奇饼干和牛奶。然后，像一个优秀的犹太人一样，当贾克在父亲家庆祝耶稣诞辰的时候，我则去看电影。
我与一个名叫安迪的犹太人再婚了，他并不介意家里挂起圣诞袜。我甚至还将我们刚出生的女儿艾尔克的名字首字母绣在一只大袜子上。尽管人们对这个庆祝季的初衷已有微言，我们却依然在这个多宗教交融的家庭里乐在其中。直到有一天，贾克一边在“回归本源玩具店”的目录册上圈出心仪的节日礼物，一边问我：“妈妈，你庆祝圣诞节吗？”
“你庆祝什么节日我就庆祝什么节日，”我说。他是我的儿子――这不就是事实吗？然而，这很快就变成了其中一个你渴望有机会重来的育儿时刻。如果我庆祝圣诞节，我不是该摆上一棵圣诞树吗？门上得挂一个圣诞花环？还有圣诞甜点拼盘、大豆蛋奶酒？至少，就监护安排而言，我不就应该每隔一年和贾克庆祝一次圣诞节吗？
我不能要求我的前夫将圣诞假期切分开。那是他唯一在乎的节日。这是跟随离婚而来的部分残酷事实，你的孩子没办法与你共度每一个节日。作为他的母亲，我当然希望把每一件事都做得更好，然而这件事却另当别论。
“我不庆祝圣诞节，宝贝，”带着愧疚感，我高声反口道。我赞颂我们挂圣诞袜的传统，也讲述光明节的惊艳之处。还有陀螺游戏！可是没有任何这些能取代他对于堆满礼物的圣诞树的渴望。在母亲的家里获得这一切。
那天晚上，作为一个面临危机的神经兮兮的犹太母亲，我对安迪说：“我们得弄一棵圣诞树回来。”
安迪在一个比我家更为保守的犹太家庭里长大。“犹太人不庆祝圣诞节，”他说。这句话出自那位喜爱我儿子的男人之口。他们不久前刚通过《星球大战》和粗俗笑话建立起深厚友谊。
我依然抗辩着。“我们家有一个庆祝圣诞节的小男孩啊，”我说，“并且不久之后，这个男孩的妹妹也会希望能够庆祝圣诞节。”
我们凝视着坐在弹力婴儿椅上的艾尔克。现在的她除了要奶瓶之外，还不懂索求其他东西。
我的丈夫，那个圣诞怪杰，笼罩着“呸，瞎说！”的情绪忿忿地走上楼去。
如果说我在第一次婚姻里学到了什么，那就是以自己的立场说服伴侣是没用的。每一个人都有权利维护自己的感受。只是因为你认为应该这样，并不代表你的另一半也一样会认同。
当然，我理解安迪的观点。我们是犹太人。我们是在犹太婚礼彩棚下，由拉比为我们主持婚礼，在科***巴上签字。甚至贾克也是一名犹太人――他的父亲和我早在结婚之前（虽然是失败的婚姻）就决定我们的孩子会上希伯来学校。贾克随我祖父的犹太名字，齐利格。他接受了割礼式。（的确，割礼式在圣诞节那天举行，不过只有当你有一个在12月17日出生的孩子才有可能发生。暂且叫做巧合吧。）也许没有圣诞树的规矩是我不得不接受的事实，接下来，我也要帮助贾克接受这个决定。你不能在母亲的家里庆祝圣诞节。圣诞节是你父亲庆祝的节日。
也许其他的犹太母亲会比我做得更好；然而告诉我那天真的孩子不能过圣诞节感觉就像是可怕的背叛，与告诉他根本没有牙仙无异。
因此我对庆祝圣诞节作了一番说辞。对安迪说，让我们忽略掉圣诞节的宗教成分吧。对于我们许多非犹太的朋友来说，圣诞节与耶稣无关，就像爱情与情人节无关。圣诞树是异教徒的传统，没有宗教意味。我会给圣诞树挂上一些冬季装饰。没有圣诞老人小饰品之类的。我甚至提到了安迪的祖母，据坊间传闻，她过去也曾装饰起自家的圣诞树。
“我觉得那不是真的，”他说。“我可不记得有圣诞树。”
不过，安迪的姐姐确认了这件事。“我六岁左右的时候，父母让祖母别再摆放圣诞树了，”她说。这对于来自长岛的四个犹太小孩来说，太让人困惑了。
我使出最后一招，我做了任何一个想将不带有宗教意味的圣诞树带进她的犹太家庭的母亲都会做的事情。我翻开“陶瓷谷仓”的目录册。一棵圣诞树占满了雪花背景和挂满了冬青树的楼梯扶栏之间的位置，树上装饰着乐器、雪花、和平手势和写着“传递希望”、“传递爱”，还有，更棒的，写着“传递和平”的装饰品。
我将这张圣诞树的照片撕了下来。它闪耀得像一个迪斯科女王在进行***治演说。安迪是一个嬉皮士，他会喜欢的。
“看，瞧瞧，”我说。“我们可以摆放一棵和平树。挂上号角和铃铛。树顶放一尊佛像，不放星星。我们可以用自己的方式来装饰它。不必一定要过圣诞节才有。”
“一棵和平树，”他说，“我喜欢。”
乔治・贝利有守护天使克拉伦斯。而我有“陶瓷谷仓”目录册。
第二天，我跟贾克讲了圣诞树的事情。他猛地撕下一张白纸，狠狠地写下他给圣诞老人的礼物清单。“妈妈，尤达的达哥巴星小屋怎么拼？”
安迪在靠着贾克的桌子边坐下来，说：“我们可以叫它音乐节。”
我乐意接受这个安排。虽然怎么称呼这个节日并无所谓。事实上，我们也不必给它一个称谓。我们只需插上电源亮起灯。