This convergence this year of Christmas and Chanukah has made me think deeply. While standing at the grocery store late yesterday afternoon I had a conversation with the person in front of me in line. “Merry Christmas,” he said. “Merry Christmas,” I replied. He continued, “Aren’t you glad we can say Merry Christmas again?,” he asked. “I never stopped,” I answered.

And it is true. As I write this, I am waiting for my family to awaken, to the joys and thrills of Christmas morning. Yes, me a rabbi. I love Christmas. And it doesn’t make me any less Jewish.

Let me explain. My ancestors came to this country as refugees in the 1840s. They carried some of their Christmas ornaments with them. They were assimilated German Jews and Christmas trees were important to them. Three ornaments remain and they are wrapped carefully in the basement, a legacy and an inheritance for my daughter.

I grew up celebrating Christmas. The secular traditions. Trees. Santa. Presents. Christmas dinner. Family. One of the last things my father, of blessed memory, did, was hang ornaments on the tree in Grand Rapids. That tree proudly displayed a business card from my rabbi. A sign that it was “kosher” even though no other Jew I knew in Grand Rapids had a tree. Shocking? Not really.

Many Jews have “celebrated” Christmas through the years. Some parents didn’t want their kids to feel left out. Others intermarried and embraced new to them traditions. Rabbis, historically railed against them. This was precisely the assimilation that Maccabees fought against. This year as Jews and Christian both pause to celebrate our separate holidays, I was noticing less tension, less guilt about Jews and Christmas. It had seemed that Jews has once again worked out their angst. That there really isn’t a “December dilemma.” Until that grocery store conversation.

After my father died, my brother and my mother made the pilgrimage to northern Michigan, to Charlevoix, to my cousin Laurie’s house, who has become the Christmas queen and the BEST hostess together with her husband Richard. They made gingerbread houses. Did lots of shopping in a quaint little town. Ate lots of yummy food and a tradition was born. I was not there that first year and I was bitterly homesick. This is the 20^th anniversary of that gathering. And I am not there this year.

There are all kinds of traditions up north. Prime Rib night. Christmas Eve shopping. Bagels and lox brunch with supplies from Village Bagel in Larchmont, NY. lWhitefish sandwiches at the Villager. Soup Night. A trip to see Santa at the real North Pole. (Santa waits for me before setting out on his journey for me to bless the sleigh.) A Christmas afternoon movie. A big Christmas dinner with all the fixings. Some years are different. When the girls were little we had Christmas Eve tea parties with their dolls. Some years Chanukah overlaps with Christmas and we all crowd into the kitchen to light the menorahs. One year we saw deer walking down Laurie’s street. Were they reindeer? One year I gave everybody world peace (I wish that were really true). One year it was a sleigh ride. One year Christmas was a Beach. Another for the dogs. One year we convinced my granddaughter that the red lights on top of cell towers were really Rudolph and we had to drive quickly to beat him to the North Pole. One year everyone had stomach flu. (22 of us!). It is never easy to get there in winter. There is a hill just as you are about driving that is always snow covered. As I write this, I am tearing up. Missing family and friends. And Richard’s cooking.

Christmas morning is always magical. And there is always something that appears under the tree that no body can explain. Santa? Perhaps.

This may surprise you. Santa and Elijah are similar. In some Jewish houses, Elijah actually does more than sip wine at Passover. He delivers gifts to people who welcome him in and offer him food incognito. From a peddler’s sack. Or a horse and a wagon. Sound familiar, no?

My favorite children’s story for Chanukah is “Just Enough Is Plenty. OK, truth be told, I have many favorites. But this one tells the story of a poor family that doesn’t have enough for dreidl gelt or sleigh rides. But they manage to stretch what they have to welcome aunts and uncles for traditional latkes of potatoes and onions. After all, Just enough is plenty, the mother keeps reminding them. Suddenly there is a knock on the door. They welcome in this mysterious guest. Offer him laktes. Remember, just enough is plenty. He gives the kids a couple of coins to play dreidl with and joins them. He spends the night. In the morning, he is gone but his pack remains, with a book of tales about Elijah and enough fabric to jumpstart the father’s tailor business. Remember, just enough is plenty.

That is the spirit of Elijah. The spirit of Saint Nicholas. Giving gifts to the needy. Welcoming everyone. Sharing resources. It is the joy of tikkun olam, repairing the world. It is the joy of gathering sparks of light together.

Some years we have worked at a Christmas dinner. Other years we have adopted a family from an “angel tree.” Some years I have spent being a chaplain in a hospital so others can spend the day with family.

This year I had the opportunity to play Santa (or Elijah?). For real. The house next door to the synagogue had a fire. Two families are now homeless. 13 people. 9 children. Less than a week before Christmas. Everything gone. Clothes. Shoes. IDs. Food (smoke seeps in an contaminates even canned goods, I learned). The police had asked us to open the synagogue that night, in the middle of the night, to be a warming shelter. Our president did so graciously. Gave the kids toys and cookies. Gave the firemen food and water. But our commitment as a congregation did not end there. We have now distributed about $2000 in gift cards, collected quickly and anonymously so that these families can begin to rebuild their lives. We were not the only organizations or individuals to step up.

It is what neighbors do. We are commanded to “Love our neighbors as ourselves.” We are commanded to follow in the ways of G-d. To clothe the naked. To feed the hungry. To visit the sick. To comfort the bereaved. To bury the dead. To be like Elijah. Or Maimonides who taught us much about tzedakah. Maybe even Santa.

I have learned a lot this week. There is an emergency housing gap in the City of Elgin. We are now working on that. Charity doesn’t always get given out equitably. And maybe it shouldn’t. I am still thinking about that. I am also thinking about my investment. If this had happened on the other side of Elgin, would I care as much? Is that fair? Is that right? It is common.

This year there was a serious fire in downtown Charlevoix and the shopping would have been different. I hope for those business owners. This year there is a family wedding in Los Angles over New Year’s and I didn’t think I could be away two weekends in a row. This year with Chanukah starting at the exact same time as Christmas, I didn’t want to leave my congregation for all of Chanukah. People get lonely this time of year. Jews do feel really isolated.

This year I noticed all the old popular Christmas songs that say, “Happy Holidays.” Bing Cosby singing, “Oh there’s no place like home for the holidays.” Frank Sinatra singing, “Happy holidays. May the merry bells keep ringing, happy holidays to you.” There is no war on Christmas, despite some news media attempts to create one. Jews may prefer it if you say, “Happy Chanukah” if you know they are Jewish and celebrate. It is more personal.

As for me, wish me “Merry Christmas” and I will wish you one too. A Christmas filled with light. With peace. With compassion. With love. Where there is enough food for everyone to enjoy. Where just enough is plenty. Where all people are free to celebrate with family and friends however they choose.

All religions have this belief in compassion in common .To me it doesn’t matter whether you celebrate Chanukah or Christmas or winter solstice or something else. It matters that you collect the shards of light and make the world a better plac.. May the convergence of these two holidays this year remind us of our sacred duty, to repair the world, together. Together, we add light to the world and we add holiness and joy.

Maybe lighting the lights together can bring peace. That is my solemn hope.

At the darkest time of the year, this is a season of lights. The lights on houses and trees. The lights in the windows. The lights of the menorah. As light begins to return, may this be a season that is filled with love, laughter and light. May there be a present you really, really wanted, something chosen with love. And a surprise or two. That just might be Santa or Elijah. Because just enough is plenty.

And if you are in northern Michigan, say hi to Santa for me. Tell him I will bless the sleigh next year. Save me some mushrooms Rockefeller, mashed turnips, corn pudding, a piece of pecan pie and one, just one of Richard’s delicious breakfast treats.