A Jewish Child on Xmas

One of the crazy results of being dispersed among the nations:

Something was suddenly very plain, and I didn't want to see it. To be a Jewish child singing Christmas carols was to feel...like a fool. A misfit. I was making a fool of myself in my own eyes. All this longing to belong... to partake of someone else's joy. No matter how radiant, glorious, magical, and enchanting ...no matter how deeply I was stirred by these baffling words on my own lips...something craven and pitiful was going on. Something had been hidden, or I was hiding from something. And the whole thing had spawned something like... contempt. For what?

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