I can’t speak for the latter group, but as one of those Jewish customers, I say please continue to ignore me and my holiday traditions. The problem with applying fairness to the holidays is that you end up treating apples like oranges. Or mistletoe like menorahs. Hanukkah just isn’t like Christmas, despite the desperate efforts of marketers and Jewish parents of small kids suffering from Christmas-envy.
Lest you underestimate the pull Christmas has on little Jewish kids, let me tell you my Christmas story. I grew up in a neighborhood that was almost exclusively Jewish, and yet I became obsessed with Santa when I was six. He seemed like God himself, sitting on a throne, granting wishes, surrounded by angels in the form of elves. And there he was in the local mall.
But my mother didn’t want me to sit on his lap. She told me it wasn’t our holiday. Finally, when I was eight, I got my chance – my mother was distracted in the shoe department. I felt terribly guilty as I mounted Santa’s lap. I was being disloyal to my family and my faith. So instead of asking for the Hot Wheels set I wanted, I blurted out, “I’m Jewish.” Santa leaned close, his beard tickling my cheek, and whispered, “So am I.”