The little-known Jewish holiday of Christmas Eve. Seriously.
On Monday, Christians will be gathering with families, feasting and opening presents and maybe even attending church services. Meanwhile, what will Jews be doing? Some will be tearing toilet paper. In a 2009 piece, Benyamin Cohen explained the history of "Nittel Nacht." The article is reprinted below.
'Twas the night before Christmas, and all through the house, Jews were playing dreidel, being celibate, and tearing toilet paper. Allow me to explain. Please.
The Jewish community has long had a tense relationship with Christmas. You wouldn't know it by the two main customs observed by many 21st-century Jews on Dec. 25: eating Chinese food and being the first to see the Christmas blockbuster. But less well-known are the more historic—and, to be blunt, more bizarre—Christmas Eve customs that Jewish communities have kept secret, even from most Jews. As a public service announcement, I'm here to let you in on what the rabbis thought about Christmas Eve. Gather round, little ones. This is a scary tale.
The Talmud, with its share of rabbinic repudiations against Jesus, was never a big fan of Christmas. Call it the Grinch. Indeed, the rabbis looked at it as a day of mourning—perhaps due to the suffering that Jews encountered in Jesus' name throughout history. And Christmas Eve—named "Nittel Nacht" by Jewish scholars in the 17th century—took on a life of its own. Some Jewish mystics were under the impression that many apostates were conceived on Christmas Eve (which is one reason the rabbis forbade sex on Dec. 24; more on that later). In Europe, the Jewish community was victim of more acts of violence on this night. All in all, it didn't end up being a festive evening for Jews.
And so the rabbis decreed that the public study hall be closed and that no Torah learning take place on this night. I guess it's our version of "Silent Night"—literally. The edict came about partially because of pogroms, but the leaders were also concerned about the popularly held belief in Judaism that studying the Torah brings spiritual benefit to the world at large. Many didn't want to make this positive contribution on what they considered a "pagan" night.
Although there is no exact demarcation as to the genesis of this odd holiday, the renowned Talmudist Rabbi Samuel Eides (commonly known as the Mahrasha in Torah circles) observed Nittel Nacht as early as the late 1500s. The Baal Shem Tov, a famous Jewish mystic and the founder of Hasidism, popularized the holiday in the 1700s. Many rabbis after him added on their own special rules. By the mid-1900s, when Judeo-Christian relations matured, the Christmas Eve customs fell mostly by the wayside as the Jewish community wanted to show their support for their Christian neighbors. While there are still some Orthodox groups that observe Nittel Nacht, these are not widespread customs among modern Jews. Indeed, in doing research for this article, I found that asking for information on Nittel Nacht was sort of equivalent to asking for directions to the nearest Freemasonry.
Although Torah study was forbidden, some privately studied what's called Toledot Yeshu—a medieval manuscript that tells the story of Jesus from a non-Christian perspective. A few didn't even sleep on Christmas Eve for fear that they might dream about Torah study. It's probably the only time the rabbis would prefer visions of sugarplums dancing in your head. Hassidic legend says that dogs, often and quizzically seen in ancient Jewish texts as a symbol of evil, appear to those who study Torah on this night.
The rabbinic sages behind Nittel Nacht also decreed that a married couple should not have sex on Christmas Eve. I guess they would shudder at all the unmarried Jews today who use the night to hook up at Jewish singles events. (There are similar customs—no Torah study, no sex, etc.—on the ninth day of the Hebrew month of Av, the historic date on which both of the Jewish Temples were destroyed. Ironically, many rabbinic authorities actually suggest this was the actual day of Jesus' birth.)
Benyamin Cohen is the author of My Jesus Year: A Rabbi's Son Wanders the Bible Belt in Search of His Own Faith, named one of the best books of the year by Publishers Weekly. He is also the content director for the Mother Nature Network. Visit him online at www.myjesusyear.com.
Photograph of dreidel by Stockbyte/Getty Images.