This got me wondering, how does Hashem feel about Chanukah knits? And is it time I finally invested in a top to celebrate the festival of lights?
As it happens, I’m the (formerly) proud owner of a vast collection of vintage Christmas jumpers. I say formerly because the truth is, times have changed, and wearing a glitzy Christmas knit no longer holds the same appeal it once did, seeing as I don’t actually celebrate Christmas and I feel increasingly uneasy with playing the assimilation game (but that’s another story.
Although it’s not really where I’m at now, it’s easy to see how I got pulled in. For us Brits, Christmas jumpers have become a key signifier of the season. From Christmas Jumper Day (marked in schools and offices up and down the country) to Mark Darcy’s infamous reindeer knit in Bridget Jones’s Diary, they are as much a part of the UK’s festive framework as mince pies and Slade yelling “IT’S CHRISSSTMAS!” from the speakers of literally every store you enter from December 1.
Papadopulos agrees: “They are unavoidable,” he writes in the booklet. “They have landscapes of antlers, snowflakes and fir trees. They feature puddings, stars, penguins, snowmen and even dinosaurs. They have jingling bells and flashing lights. They sparkle and flash. They come in the most lurid colours and questionable fabrics imaginable.”
But what about Chanukah jumpers? Well, as you can imagine, they largely sing from the same hymn sheet – gaudy knits adorned with menorahs and stars of David, sweaters emblazoned with “I love you a latke” or dreidels accompanied by slogans such as “they see me rollin’” (a nod for millennials to the 2005 Chamillionaire ear-worm Ridin’).
We Jews might only make up 0.2 percent of the global population, but we are now surprisingly well-catered for in the Chanukah jumper department. That is thanks largely to the abundance of merchandise available from across the pond – and, you know, the rampant consumerism of late stage capitalism.
[Missing Credit]
The problem for me is that I mostly stopped buying new clothes a couple of years ago (for environmental and ethical reasons, although it’s also much kinder on the wallet). For anyone in a similar boat, the good news is, it’s not impossible to find secondhand Chanukah merch on the usual sites (Vinted, eBay, etc) if you want to join in the fun without feeding the beast.
But the truth is, despite Papadopulos’s assurance that “God is tasteless … without a shred of cultural or aesthetic judgment”, I have no desire to wear any of these novelty knits, even if they’re secondhand. And it appears, I’m not alone.
Jewish artist Alex Woz is on a mission to change the Chanukah merch game. In a recent Instagram post the 25-year-old, who grew up in Argentina but now lives in LA, wrote: “Growing up, I always saw the juxtaposition of Chanukah next to Christmas as nothing more than a bone thrown to the poor Jewish kids that ‘missed out’ on the Christmas spirit.
"I would get confused as I shuffled down the aisles of jolly Chanukah ornaments and merchandise, insinuating that Chanukah is about ‘love and light’ (Kabbalistically, yes; historically, not really). The reality is, Chanukah isn’t love and light, it’s f***ing metal [extremely cool]. And I had always longed for some merch to represent how metal it truly is.”
Much to the delight of his 35,000 followers, he’s taken matters into his own hands, with a collection he hopes will “spread some of that real Chanukah spirit – the kind that tells us never to back down.”
The first top to be released is a grey long-sleeved T-shirt featuring an image of a sword plunged into a landscape of jagged, icy mountains and fire, with “Maccabim” emblazoned across the front in Hebrew alongside the phrase “Defending the homeland”.
It’s certainly not the usual festive fare but I like to think that Hashem would approve. As for whether I’m actually going to buy one … I think I’m going to have to consult my rabbi.
