Christmas as Jew. There are no signs of Christmas in my Jewish home; Christmas is a holiday I do not celebrate because I am Jewish. I do not pretend Christmas is a secular holiday to embrace universal values. I honour the fact it is a deeply meaningful holy day for many of my Christian friends. Of course, there are secular Christmas celebrants. But this I find to be something I cannot embrace.

Christmas is a Christian holiday celebrating the birth of Christ. While it may have pagan origins, since the fifth-century it was mandated by the Roman church as a festival honouring Christ and has been celebrated as such ever since. The Christmas tree – an evergreen strung with lights or candles and adorned with red decorations – is seen as a symbol by many of the everlasting love, light and blood of Christ. Santa Claus is not merely some neutral, non-religious character in a red suit at a shopping mall: St. Nicholas of Myra was a famous fourth-century Catholic bishop in Turkey considered a patron of children for his generosity to them during his lifetime. And gift-giving, a lovely act of generosity through-out the year, at Christmas is a re-enactment of the story of the gifts proffered to Jesus by the Three Wise Men.

The non-religious that celebrate Christmas, however, protest that it is a secular holiday that can be divorced from religion. They argue that it is merely a cultural celebration in which all can participate. For secularists, Christmas is an opportunity to give thanks for what we have, exchange presents, and spend time with family. It is a time for merry-making and requires no real connection to a religious source. Those who consider themselves non-religious but celebrate Christmas will go to great lengths go to defend the idea that the event holds no religious significance in their lives. Indeed, they seem profoundly insulted when one suggests that they are partaking in a religiously-based holiday. Paradoxically, they are often most offended when those of other faiths find Christian religious meaning in the yearly parties and events that accompany the Christmas season: they have been able to separate the religious from the secular, why can’t we do the same?

A perfect example of this occurred in 2012, when the Chanukah and Christmas holidays overlapped. My workplace planned a celebration, ostensibly called a “holiday party,” which included a Christmas tree, the arrival of Santa Claus and gift-giving for the children, Christmas carols, and a traditional dinner of roast turkey and baked ham. Noting that the third night of Chanukah fell during the party, I suggested that the Jews among us light the chanukiah during the evening as part of the festivities. There was no objection, so on the night of the event, my family and the only other Jewish family in our workplace made our way to the platform in the front of the gathering and placed our chanukiot on a high table there. The men and boys wore kippot. I said a few words about bringing light into the world at this time, during our festival of lights. And then, my colleague’s four year-old son took the microphone, unexpectedly, and recited the Hebrew blessings as the candles were lit. It was simple and over in less than 10 minutes.

Who could have guessed the reactions that followed? While some guests came to wish us a happy Chanukah and express their appreciation at learning something new about another religious faith, a significant number of people were absolutely indignant that we had dared insert religion into their secular celebration. In their view, they had kept God and religion out of the event. We had crossed the line by bringing God in to their secular Christmas and made them uncomfortable in doing so. How inappropriate. How disrespectful. Apparently, we should have secularised Chanukah to make it more palatable to our non-religious Christmas-celebrants – lighting the candles wordlessly, serving some jelly doughnuts and passing around some Chanukah gelt and plastic dradles. When we pointed-out the inherently religious nature of Christmas and the multitude of Christian symbols that accompanied the “holiday event,” eyes rolled. The Jews were at it again, finding offense and searching for conspiracies to justify their feelings of exclusion.

Now don’t get me wrong. In a place where Christians make-up the vast majority of the population, one would expect that the celebration of their holidays would predominate. I am not trying to argue that there shouldn’t have been a “holiday party” for Christmas. But to deny that the event is grounded in a religious tradition seems naïve, at best. While those non-religious Christmas celebrants do all they can to make the event secular in their own lives, they cannot avoid the religious overtones that characterise the holiday. Call it a “holiday party” all you want, it will still not take the Christ out of Christmas.

In the year that followed, the same individuals that were so outraged at us bringing religion into their secular Christmas took great pleasure in pointing out any apparent contradiction between our Jewish faith and our actions: “Oh, is Halloween a Jewish holiday?” “No chocolate for you, Easter is our holiday.” “You let your kids make Christmas decorations at school?” “I know lots of Jews who have Christmas trees, you know.” Comments made with a wink and a smile in an effort to be humorous, but said often enough to reveal a certain resentment in the face of difference and an irritation at having been called-out on the inherent contradiction of claiming to be non-religious yet marking a religious holiday. Comments which ignored the significant pressure Jews have faced to assimilate throughout history, and the rampant anti-Semitism practiced throughout the Christian world in previous epochs, particularly during the Christian holiday period.

As a Jew, the idea of celebrating Christian holidays feels entirely unfitting and inappropriate, regardless of how ‘secularly’ I may mark them. Indeed, it would feel equally wrong to celebrate Jewish holidays secularly at this point in my life. When you embrace a faith and call it your own, when that faith brings meaning and sustenance to your life, you celebrate its rituals in the fullest and most authentic way possible. Not because you have to, not because you want to, but because you need to. Because they bring meaning to your life and connect you to the history of your people.

This year, we accepted an invitation to spend Christmas evening at the home of one of my very secular friends from work who hosted a pot-luck dinner with other colleagues. It was not complicated to explain to my children that we were attending a holiday that other people celebrate, but we do not. Luckily, Chanukah did not overlap the Yuletide season this year. Even if it had, however, I would not have suggested we celebrate it during my non-religious friends’ Christmas celebrations. I realise now that to do so would only highlight the inherent contradiction of celebrating Christmas as a non-believer.

In my view, Christmas, no matter how secularly practiced, represents a Christian tradition practiced primarily by those of Christian backgrounds. I would have difficulty imagining the same people celebrating a secular Ramadan, for example. Even if a secular Christmas was possible, however, I am a Jew. There is nothing secular about that, which is why I celebrate Jewish holidays, joyfully, proudly, and Jewishly.