Jewish Christians.

I overheard the most absurd thing this evening at Argo Tea, and although there's still a few more minutes of Shabbat, I fell off the wagon sometime last night when I stumbled home after an evening of Karaoke (after shul, of course), and got on the Internet. So I had to share this, because of the level of absurdity.

I'd been at Argo for a while, and this group of folks had settled near me, discussing missionary work and other things, I wasn't paying attention really until I heard them mention the Passover seder. They were conversing about whether their churches did seders for Easter and about the Jews in their congregations. So I put my iPod on pause and listened in, casually, while exploring a cookbook I'd picked up.

"So there's a few Jews at my church, and they keep all the traditions and stuff, and this one guy was telling me that in the seder, when they hide a piece of the matzo, the matzo is supposed to represent Christ, and when they find the matzo, it is like finding salvation through Christ! It's called afikomen or something, and I guess it's really a new thing and is really supposed to be about Christ."

It took everything I had to restrain myself from blurting out "You've got to be kidding me!" Now, I know that the seder is different for everyone, and that people garner all sorts of messages and meanings out of them -- some are feminist, some emphasize vegetarianism, etc. This is why there are a million different haggadot! But this? This, well, absolutely outlandish idea of the afikomen symbolizing Christ and that the whole addition of the afikomen to the seder was actually Christian, is shocking.

Rabbi Shraga Simmons says, "The hiding of Afikomen is a rather recent custom, of a couple of centuries. It is based on Talmud Pesachim 109a which describes a Matzot grabbing, so that the children stay alert and do not fall asleep - (source: 'Ta'amei Minhagim' 529; quoting 'Chok Yaakov' 472:2)."

I guess, I didn't know that the Talmud made revelations and connections to Christian thought.

Seriously. How absurd.

Ugh.

Some Christian-Jewish news.

1) A rabbi was fired after marrying a Protestant ... pastor! (Click here.) But if she discovered that she has Jewish roots there, wouldn't there be the chance that she is -- in the shul's eyes -- Jewish regardless of her Protestant affiliation? The article doesn't detail this, which sucks. Either way, though, it sucks.

2) In another, more positive realm of Christian-Jewish relations, a French cardinal had kaddish read at his funeral, since, well, he was Jewish. (Click here.) The sort of heart-wrenching part? The man who read kaddish was his cousin, who survived the Holocaust. Even more sad? The cardinal's mother died at Auschwitz, and he converted at the age of 14 after being sent away from Paris during the Nazi reign. It was an important gesture though, and I admire that he requested it. Once a Jew always a Jew, no matter how much one tries to shed the identity and past.

A challenge.

I'm sitting in Argo Tea near Michigan Avenue in Chicago. Just by Water Tower place. I'm at a table among tables crowded with people, headphones in, listening to Explosions in the Sky (my Torah music). My Etz Hayim is open to Ezekiel 37:1-14, reading between talking via GChat with Ian.

An older man with bad teeth appears over my shoulder, and with a thick British accent says, "Greek?"

I pull off my headphones and show him the cover, "No, it's Hebrew ... Torah."

He responds very quickly, as if waiting to quiz someone -- anyone -- with, "Ahh, how many Sabbath days in Passover!?"

I, taken aback at his random quizzing because it doesn't appear as a friendly exchange, but rather a challenge of "what do you know there little Hebrew girl?," respond with, "Well, the first two and last two days are treated as holidays." I, being Reform and in the Diaspora, know there are differences in the traditions. But this is the first thing I say, of course.

Wrong! He chides me, says "look it up! look it up!" and points me to Leviticus. There are TWO days, he says. And of course, in tradition, yes, there are. He then retrieves his Christian bible and reads the verses to me. I respond by mumbling the Hebrew translations and he continues to correct me when I say that the harvest was 'raised up' ... in the Christian bible it says it was waived about, I guess.

Then, almost as an insult he says, "You must be Reform, eh? Maybe someday you'll become Orthodox and really know your stuff!" He then talks about Easter and the crucifixion and blah blah blah. A barista approaches, mouthing "Are you okay?" The guy eventually shuts up and walks away.

It was like he was challenging me. Like he could see a sign above my head that says "Pick on me! I'm the Reform girl reading Torah in a tea shop! Please, quiz me!"

But it's bigger than that. He stood above me and I sat. I was below him. He reciting words from his Christian bible proving he knows better than I about the tradition. But I knew. Why didn't I just say "Listen man, this is the Diaspora, we do things differently. Not everything in the bible is word for word nowadays. It isn't the precision that matters, it's the passion." But I didn't. Why? I felt intimidated. Unprepared.

Why?

It's Good Friday. Beware one and all. These used to be the days when the Jews got nervous and skittish. Blood in matzo and all that. Mrph.

What a day. Chunks of meat in my ranch and getting lectured by the Christian on my own holiday. Slap! Slap! Slap!

Put on your yarmulka. It's NEARLY time for Chanukah.

I got a very large package in the mail yesterday. Okay, it was TWO packages, from my family back in Nebraska. I'd requested my coffee maker and small vacuum, but I also got a few other things I'd left behind, such as my comfy purple sweater, some towels and a pillow cover. But also in the box was:
-A box of hot cocoa
-A box of oatmeal squares
-Raisins
-TWO containers of peanut butter (one crunchy, one EXTRA crunchy)
-Two tins of cookies (chocolate chip and pineapple/sugar)
-(there might be other things, but I can't remember ...)
-And the best of all? An early Chanukah gift. My mom found my favorite perfume, which was discontinued many moons ago.

So it got me thinking. Chanukah is a month away. Of all the Jewish holidays, even the minor fast holidays, Chanukah probably has the LEAST impact on me. Because I feel this way, I've decided to do some searching this year. To maybe look and see what's meaningful about it, beyond the miracle of the lights and the perseverance of the Jewish people. I mean, I know that Chanukah is just as commercialized now as "Christmas" ... or as I prefer to call it ... "Santamas." I mean, Wal-Mart even has a selection of 22 items for the Chanukah lover (though most of them are books).

I have plenty of friends who adhere to the "true" meaning of Christmas, whatever that may be. From my understanding, Christmas was designed to get all of those Christians who WERE Christians but still practiced pagan rights and celebrated pagan holidays to choose -- Paganism or Christianity. So church leaders designed many of the holidays, in this case tying Jesus to the winter solstice, around the same time of pagan holidays and people had to choose. Feel free to correct me here, but a Lutheran Hebrew bible teacher taught me that. And I think that even Christians won't deny that "Christmas" has a lot less to do with "Christ" and a lot more to do with "winter." So how is that reconciled? I'm curious.

But Chanukah, now THERE's a story that has lived through many moons. But do we light our menorahs to feel a part of the reindeer and santa clauses around us? I don't want that to be the reason I do it. I don't think it ever has, but I just need to make extra sure. So this year, I'm doing my research, I'm finding a meaning, I'm looking for a reason for the season, damnit!

And in the meantime, I'll douse myself with my favorite perfume, prepare a set of "holiday" cards and a set of Chanukah cards (e-mail me your addy if you'd like a CHANUKAH CARD!), eat the "Christmas" cookies my mom sends me and stew.

PS: If you haven't picked up the LeeVees Chanukah album, you're seriously missing sooo much.