Chrismukah

Tonight begins our annual "December Dilemma" - the first night of Chanukah.

This year, our dilemma started early, with the visit of my parents last month.

Foolishly, I decided to have them accompany me to pick Megan up from Sunday school at our synagogue, which is the same congregation my folks belonged to briefly during one of their periodic attempts to connect with the Jewish community. At that time (35 years ago!), the Temple consisted of a couple of trailers on an empty lot. Today it is a fully built complex in a mature neighborhood, with a sanctuary, activity room and lots of classrooms. I thought my folks would enjoy seeing the result of their contributions to the building fund.

Instead, they got fixated on the thought that the youngest of their interfaith grandchildren might actually have a Bat Mitzvah. And the following week, my dad called me on my cell.

"Do you have a second?" he asked.

I was at work, but told him I could talk for a minute.

"You know, your mother has always been hurt that none of the grandchildren are named after her. The family in Miami doesn't understand it."

Uh oh.

"It would be nice if you gave Megan her Hebrew name."

My Sephardic Turkish/Cuban mother is named Fortuna, which is one of the reasons none of her very American granddaughters share her name. She also has it in her head that in Hebrew, her name means "Mazel Tov." My sister checked with her rabbi on this a couple of years ago (this is not the first time this has come up) and was told that isn't so and that "Mazel Tov" is not a proper Hebrew name.

"You know, Dad, this really isn't a two-second conversation. Let's talk about this later," I said.

I would be happy if later never comes. This is not something I wanted to think about. The last time this came up was when Megan was a baby and my husband was more resistant my family's Jewish traditions. If I wanted to have a Jewish baby naming ceremony he insisted that she also be baptized. Now, as a basically secular person who believes that God is God no matter how He is worshipped, I had no objection to a christening in the church where Gareth grew up. I thought his mother would appreciate it, and I told my husband that she could hold the baby for a baptism with my blessing - but that I would just watch from a pew. Ask any other Jewish person: this was a very rare deal.

But it was a deal-breaker for Gareth - he insisted that as the mother, I had to hold the baby. And this was the deal-breaker for me. I told him that as a Jew, I could not personally present my child to the church. So we did neither, and it hasn't bothered us until now.

Because next year, if we want to continue with our involvement at the Synagogue, Megan will start the process of preparing for a Bat Mitzvah. And she will need a Hebrew name. And while I personally don't care what her Hebrew name will be (perhaps "Mazel"?), Gareth is very annoyed with my dad's interference. And our eight-year-old daughter, who is old enough to voice her own opinions, may want a say in this, too.

So I haven't called my dad back on this and went back to planning our family's Chanukah celebration (you know, shopping for Megan's gifts at the last possible minute and wrapping all of them today) and will deal with Christmas when Chanukah is over (good thing they don't overlap this year!)

But Friday, we got a phone call from one of the women in our Havorah, reminding us that we will have a little Chanukah party Friday night before we go to Family Services at the Synagogue. "Be sure to have Megan write down her Hebrew name," she said, "we'll be doing a little craft." YIKES. This means I have until Friday to come up with something...

So this afternoon, Megan and I will be browsing Hebrew name sites on the web. And I'll deal with my parents later...