American Jews cry Gobble Tov this year
Hanukkah falls on Thanksgiving for the first time
The once-in-a-Talmud mash-up of the U.S. Thanksgiving holiday and Hanukkah gives rise to recipes for pumpkin latkes and the merry cry of “Gobble Tov!” But set on the holiday table beside the chocolate gelt and the turkey is another traditional dish: the despair of the disappearing Jew.
Each celebration retells the legend of a people’s salvation: the Massachusetts Pilgrims rescued from starvation in 1621 by the Wampanoag Indians; the Judeans saved from forced assimilation into Greek pantheism by Judah Maccabee and his warrior brothers, some 2,000 years ago.
“Offer unto God thanksgiving; and pay thy vows unto the Most High,” commands the 50th Psalm.
“Isn’t it peculiar, Charlie Brown, how some traditions just slowly fade away?” smirks Lucy Van Pelt, pulling away the un-kicked football yet again in A Charlie Brown Thanksgiving.
This is the first time that the festivals have coincided since Abraham Lincoln consecrated the fourth Thursday in November as a day of national gratitude and overeating, and the last, according to the calculations of latter-day soothsayers, until Year 79,811, we all should live so long.
While we wait, It has come to pass that, according to a recent and much-discussed survey by the Pew Research Center, only 26 per cent of American Jews affirm that “religion is very important,” although 60 per cent of the respondents who have taken nuptial vows in this country since 2000 have wed a non- Jewish spouse.
Nineteen per cent defined observing traditional law as an essential facet of Jewish identity. Forty-two per cent cited “having a good sense of humour.”
Hence the observation by Rabbi Benjamin Blech of Yeshiva University that, to a majority of American Jews, Seinfeld means more than Sinai.
“I could go on — but it’s just too painful,” the rabbi wept on his blog.
It is hardly the first time that such lamentations have made the menorah flicker. In 1964, a cover story in Look magazine bemoaned “The Vanishing American Jew.” (Look folded in 1971.)
And you might have heard of that synagogue in Alabama that offers Jewish families up to $50,000 if they will move to town and come to shul.
I called that house of worship — Temple Emanu-El of Dothan, Ala., the Peanut Capital of the World — and asked the rabbi if, the way things are going, synagogues soon will have to bribe people to uproot to Chicago or Winnipeg.
“Pew didn’t frighten me at all,” Rabbi Lynne Goldsmith replied. “We are not going to die. In the year 79,000, if people are still around and people are still worshipping God, there are going to be Jews.”
“What are your thoughts about the confluence of Hanukkah and Thanksgiving?” I wondered.
“We have a whole lot to be thankful for, and that’s what we have in common,” Rabbi Goldsmith said. “If the Maccabees had not prevailed when they did, we may have assimilated totally out of existence.
“The situation today is not the same. Christian culture is the dominant culture, but they’re not trying to jam it down our throats. We’re not being told that we have to pay taxes to the Christian authorities. They are not desecrating our temple.
“In the United States, we are freer than any time in our history. People say, ‘We are not being oppressed so we don’t need to be religious.’ But I think that to live a Jewish life is a very positive thing.”
The rabbi’s husband, Rob Goldsmith, told me that seven households so far have moved to Dothan and collected the bonus. The Emanu-El congregation now numbers a healthy 72 families.
“We’re bucking the trend of the wringing of hands and the cry of ‘Where are the Jews?’ Rob Goldsmith said.
But the Jews of the Deep South still face an existential dilemma.
While it may be truly joyous to celebrate both Hanukkah and Thanksgiving, it is definitely NOT possible to cheer for the University of Alabama Crimson Tide football team AND to cry “Warrrr eagle!” in support of Auburn. The teams will meet in football Nov. 30 for the 78th time. Alabama — the defending national champion — has won four of the past five meetings. The game is as much a fixture of Thanksgiving in the Heart of Dixie as Hanukkah won’t be again until 79,811, Common Era.
“I choose to Roll Tide because eagles aren’t kosher.” Rabbi Lynne Goldsmith revealed when pressed.
“Why aren’t they?” I offered.
“Because God says so,” the rabbi replied.
“Will you celebrate Thanks- giving too?” I asked.
“Are you kidding me?” Rabbi Goldsmith yelped. “The story is probably apocryphal, that without co-operation between the Native Americans and those foreigners, the Pilgrims would have died out. But the real message is that this spirit of cooperation is more important than eating turkey or even my famous green bean casserole.”
“Is that a family recipe passed down since the Maccabees?” I asked.
“No,” the cleric confessed. “I found it on the back of the can of green beans.”