Every Thanksgiving morning, I watch the Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade from the steps of Congregation Shearith Israel on 70th Street in New York, cheering as inflated versions of the season’s most heavily advertised cartoon characters careen wildly into buildings and trees.
This tradition hasn’t been as much fun since 1997, when high winds caused the balloons’ jumpsuit-wearing handlers to lose control of their charges. In the pandemonium, Sonic the Hedgehog was decapitated, the Pink Panther lost his tail, and the Cat in the Hat knocked over a lamppost, sending one onlooker into a coma. Strict rules were instituted concerning the balloons’ size and the altitude at which they could be flown, and in the ensuing years they have tended to stay under control and in the middle of the street.
With all the fun sucked out of the balloons, I have begun to watch those parade participants who are not filled with helium. From the ridiculous rifle twirlers to the guy from that reality show three years ago that no one remembers to the anxious parade organizers zipping up and down the route in golf carts, there is always something to see. This year it was the tap-dancing Christmas trees that really caught my eye. Wearing white tap shoes and sequined green dresses sculpted to suggest the shape of an evergreen, the dancers had come all the way from Alameda, California to join the parade. As they tapped their way by, I turned around to glance at the synagogue behind me – and suddenly realized just how ironic my parade-viewing was.
Congregation Shearith Israel, founded in 1654 by the first Jewish arrivals to New Amsterdam, is an Orthodox synagogue steeped in history and tradition. There is a Torah on display in the lobby that was partially burned during the Revolutionary War. Ladino, the blend of Spanish and Hebrew that Sephardim spoke in pre-Inquisition Spain, is still used during some parts of the service. Until very recently, the rabbis bore the title Reverend, a custom dating to the earliest New World Jewish settlers. Many members, including my family, are descendants of the synagogue’s founders. This connection to the past and reverence for tradition has always given Shearith Israel, in my mind, a sense of authenticity. The special symbolism and practices utilized by the congregation are all very real and is rooted in genuine traditions that the community has observed for generations.
This stands in stark contrast to the image of the tap dancing Christmas trees seen in the parade. Torn from its original folkloric and religious roots, the symbolism of the Christmas tree today is inextricably linked with images of a Coke-swigging Santa and millions of cheesy Hollywood movies. It is a false folklore, resurrected to serve the clients of Madison Avenue advertising firms.
The dancing trees are only one example in a parade that is a veritable orgy of pseudo-religious consumerism. From the 34-foot tall elf balloons to the Christmas-themed pop songs performed at the end of the parade route in Herald Square to the insufferable holiday-themed patter of the television announcers, nothing here is real – everything is kitsch. The parade perverts both Thanksgiving and Christmas by using them simply as points that demarcate the beginning and the end of a particularly high-volume shopping season.
As I stood on the stairs of the synagogue of a 350 year old Jewish congregation, waiting for Santa, who traditionally rides the parade’s final float, to arrive and, as NBC’s announcers never fail to remind us, officially kick-off the Holiday Season, I laughed to myself. Then I went out and started my holiday shopping.
