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| Mike Gibson/Special to the News Sentienl Michael Dryzer spins the dreidel, a four-sided top used in a game during the Hanukkah season, while his family watches. |
'Twas not so long ago that the night before Christmas was the night before Christmas. Now it's the eve of the holiday season, or perhaps an occasion for "season's greetings" or some other broad, ambiguous recognition of the fact that December is also the time of Hanukkah, Kwanzaa, Yule and any number of other solstice celebrations.
But while one might be less likely to see a nativity scene in a public place, it's still hard to forget that this is, first and foremost, the Christmas season in Knoxville. Local school calendars, for instance, are filled with Christmas parades and Christmas dances and Christmas villages and Christmas craft fairs and the annual Christmas concerts, which are likely to feature sacred and secular songs alike.
And perhaps with good reason; according www.city-data.com, while 62 percent of Knox County residents belong to some sort of religious congregation, only a small percentage of those adhere to faiths other than Christianity.
Still, families representing those faiths are out there. They have their own ways of experiencing and celebrating the holiday season, and their children have their own perspective, growing up "other" in a world full of carols and Christmas lights.
It's not hard to pick out the Dryzer residence this time of year; the front lawn of their home off Northshore has a seven-foot Hanukkah candle, as well as a floppy-eared Dalmatian with a yarmulke and a Star of David on its chest. The lawn ornaments nod at their Jewish faith, as well as their love of canine companionship. The family includes two very friendly chocolate Labradors named Cocoa and Hershey, and Bling, an equally sociable Chihuahua-Pomeranian mix.
Sitting in the living room of their well-appointed home, Scott Dryzer, a pulmonary specialist with Summit Medical Group, observes that one of the unintended consequences of recognizing diversity in the holiday season is that it has elevated the status of a lesser Jewish holiday. "Hanukkah is not one of the big ones; it's made a bigger deal simply because of its proximity to Christmas," he says.
"There are two holidays where the kids have to be out of school — the Jewish New Year Rosh Hashanah, and Yom Kippur," says his wife, Lynn Dryzer. "That's non-negotiable. All the rest are minor."
The Dryzer children — Michael, 14, a freshman at Webb School; Lauren, 11, a sixth-grader at the Episcopal School of Knoxville, and Danielle, 17, a sophomore at Bearden—have had diverse, though mostly positive experiences living Jewish in a predominantly Christian culture.
Even at the Episcopal School, which Lynn Dryzer says is "very faith-friendly when there's a religious observance, she doesn't participate. And they're fine with that."
"People there are like, 'Oh, you're Jewish, that's cool,' " says Lauren, who notes that every student participates in a broad-based religion class. "You don't stand out at all. And they try to address all the major religious holidays."
Michael Dryzer, a trim dark-haired boy in his school khakis and white shirt, says he feels similarly comfortable at Webb. "They don't talk about religion much," he says. "The kids don't care. A large percentage of kids go there, for Knoxville anyway. They let kids out of school for Yom Kippur."
Likewise for Danielle, who has autism, and who found acceptance, companionship and fun with the school's Christian-based Young Life group, which accommodates students with special needs.
But one area private school that the Dryzer children attended — despite its supposed secular bent — featured Christmas and Easter celebrations that made the family uncomfortable. "There were big services, a big cross at Easter; the children were supposed to bring in flowers," she says. "As parents, you kind of had to go with it. It was the best place for them, educationally.
"I grew up singing Christmas songs in school choir, and I don't mind that. But you do want people to know there are other things out there."
A baby-faced sophomore at South-Doyle High School with an unruly mop of curls, Gurudev Ball-Khalsa seems an ordinary 15-year-old in most respects. He's a Boy Scout, a trumpet player in the band, and he's embarrassed by at least half the things his mother says.
But his mother, local yoga instructor Ajeet Khalsa, gave him a less-than-ordinary name (at least by western standards), due to her adherence to the Sikh faith. Founded in 15th-century India, Sikhism is a monotheistic faith founded on justice, truth-seeking, and meditation by Guru Nanak Dev.
Khalsa notes that the way she and her son celebrate the season is not necessarily a product of their beliefs. Sikhs have no equivalent solstice celebration, she says. However, most years, she and her son go to a camp in Florida where perhaps 200 people gather each year to partake in a number of yogic traditions.
"We get up at 3:30 a.m. and do yoga every morning," she enthuses. "I stay in the tent 'til 10," Gurudev carps. "We eat together. There's the ceremonial solstice spiral of candles. We sing songs. We have a bonfire at night. The celebrations come out of a community idea, not so much any religion we're practicing."
"It's like Christmas, in that it's a routine," says Gurudev. "You're doing the same thing every year. "And we all come together, and we're all happy.
"I celebrate Christmas, but not the way other people do. I look at it as a time for love, giving, letting go, rather than as a time for a religious observance. I just see it as a time for giving and being together."
And mostly, Gurudev says he's unconcerned about the holiday recognitions going on around him, at school and elsewhere. "I always look at it like I'd rather focus on what I need to focus on, and work on what I need to work on," he says. "When I look at any religion for a long time and think about it very hard, it makes my head hurt."
Adds Khalsa, "We're going to have a Christmas tree. We might even exchange a gift or two. But wherever I go, I'll do yoga, meditate, light a fire and call in the solstice with some sort of ceremony. And we'll have fun. That takes the edge off the insanity of the Christmas holiday."
© 2011, Knoxville News Sentinel Co.