E

very year on Christmas 
Eve, I serve my husband, 
children, and in-laws a 
Polish feast consisting of dill 
pickle soup, pierogis, and sev-
eral other dishes 
that have many 
silent letters and 
strange conso-
nant-to-vowel 
ratios. Among 
these dishes is 
the bane of my 
December — 
czernina. Czernina is the Polish 
word for duck blood soup. Yes, 
there really is duck blood in 
the soup. Not one for handling 
blood, I instead go down to 
Hamtramck and just buy the 
soup. Except every year there is 
some crisis. The grocery store is 
sold out. The restaurant is unex-
pectedly closed. The czernina 
has noodles instead of dump-
lings. The only one available 
has dried fruit in it (a common 
point between Polish and Jewish 
cuisines). 
At least once in this horror 
show I will likely be on the 
verge of a panic attack, wonder-
ing what a Jewish girl is doing 
running around to every Polish 

establishment in 20 squares 
miles in an attempt not to ruin 
Christmas. 
But this annual crisis has 
nothing to do with me being 
Jewish, and the Polish feast has 
nothing to do with Christianity. 
This is about recreating my 
husband’s holiday memories of 
Christmases past and passing 
down these holiday traditions 
for our children. 
For other holidays, we have 
aspects that are traditional — 
such as the gefilte fish for Rosh 
Hashanah that we make at 
my mother’s house using my 
Bubbie’s recipe as my father 
complains about the fish making 
the house smell. We also have 
aspects that we created ourselves 
— such as our Passover seder 
complete with singing the story 
of the Exodus to the tune of 
“Take Me Out to the Ballgame.
”
Holidays come with ten-
sion — when do we stick with 
tradition, when do we create 
something new, what do we do 
when something inevitably goes 
wrong, and how do we agree 
as a couple what each holiday 
should look like for our family? 
And then, what happens when a 

parent or sibling disagrees with 
the choices we have made? Do 
we stick with our decision or is it 
back to the drawing board?
This dilemma may be more 
apparent when you see both a 
Christmas tree and a menorah 
in the window, but it exists for 
everyone in ways big or small. 
Do you celebrate Chanukah 
with latkes or sufganiyot? Do 
you prefer sour cream or apple-
sauce? Light candles on the first 
night with his family or hers? 
Do you go with the traditional 
gifts of gelt, books and socks or 
do a Chanukah filed with an 
abundance (or overabundance) 
of toys? 
Marriage can be a negotiation 
of making two lives into one — 
and holidays are often the lynch-
pin of the negotiation. Maybe 
the disagreements are religious 
in nature, but more likely they 
are conflicts about the expecta-
tions around holidays and the 
vision for what family life looks 
like. This is true no matter which 
holidays you are celebrating this 
December. 
The true dilemma is trying 
to celebrate the holidays in an 
authentic and meaningful way 

while coping with the expecta-
tions of families and communi-
ties. Traditions may evolve over 
time as people come and go 
from our families. But the heart 
of the holidays remains: gather-
ing with family, friends and food 
to celebrate miracles. 
Through give and take, com-
munication and compromise, 
I hope that we can create a 
December that is full of mean-
ing, light on stress, and — in my 
case — abundant in both czerni-
na and latkes. 

Alicia Chandler is the founder of 

Multfaith Life LLC, which helps institu-

tions and the Jewish community adapt 

to interfaith families.

10 | DECEMBER 17 • 2020 

Alicia 

Chandler

VIEWS

BORROWED TIME from page 8

championship dynasty.
The following week, I was 
home watching the Lions when I 
had a familiar sensation that was 
different from the usual familiar 
sensation of watching the Lions. 
Another seizure, another trip 
to the ER. Same Honolulu Blue 
hooded sweatshirt, same ambu-
lance driver. 
“Maybe you should find 
something else to watch next 
Sunday.
”
I missed the end of the 16-15 
loss to Tennessee. Instead, I saw 

a new MRI with a new spot, 
lodged deeper in my brain. Once 
again, I prepared for surgery, 
this time at Karmanos Cancer 
Center.
I didn’t pray, at least not read-
ily or ritually. God appeared to 
be busy that week bringing a 
biblical amount of rain down on 
Detroit, flooding freeways and 
stranding cars.
The downpour continued 
the morning of my surgery, 
but that didn’t keep all the 
“Rosenzweiggers” from getting 

to Harper Hospital at 5:30 in the 
morning. Unlike sports or seder, 
medical procedures might be the 
only events the peanut gallery 
shows up for on time.
The surgeon greeted me with 
the calm, reassuring tone I had 
become accustomed to.
“We just have to let them fin-
ish mopping and get everything 
sanitized.
” 
Rain had overwhelmed the 
hospital’s drainage system. I 
pictured the crew rolling tarps 
across the infield and my family 

waiting restlessly in the dug-
out during the seventh inning 
stretch.
… I don’t care if I never get 
back
I heard a voice from outside 
the prep room say “Don’t shave 
his head yet” — but not before 
they put the IV in my groin. 
The rain eventually let up. The 
Tigers lost their last two games 
and their bid for the wild card. 
I redeemed my rain check for 
a surgery that reliably occurred 
and resoundingly succeeded. 

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Everyone’s December Dilemma

