Page 41 of His for Hanukkah

The music was different, drawing on modes that he associated more with Eastern music. He tried to make sense of it from a musician’s standpoint and couldn’t match it to any scale that he’d learned. His Western ear interpreted music in a mostly minor key as sad, but this music was clearly joyous.

What surprised him most was the style of prayer. He hadn’t been to church since high school, but he had strong memories of the minister as the focus of the experience. Here, it seemed like the rabbi and cantor were leading the group simply by engaging in their own personal prayer experience while standing closer to the front of the room.

There were parts where everyone spoke and sung together, and others where they broke off on their own, not for a few lines, but for a long block of time. Tate wasn’t sure what everyone else was doing, but Adam seemed to be speed-reading through a memorized text, since he turned the pages but didn’t actually look at them. His whispered speech was a melodic blur.

At some point, Tate came to the realization that he’d always thought of Judaism as being pretty much the same as Christianity, but without Christmas. He’d clearly had no idea what he was talking about.

Which made him understand even more how invisible Adam felt when people put up a little electric menorah next to their gigantic Christmas displays.

Though he was still secretly a little glad that that experience had brought Adam to him.

They’d then shared a joyful and relaxed communal meal, with Adam whispering instructions to him as they went along. Like the fact that he wasn’t allowed to speak from the time that he ritually washed his hands until someone broke the challah. And pulling out his phone was a big no-no.

Judaism was fascinating.

Adam seemed to be in his element. He seemed to know everyone and had a mental index of people’s families, health, work changes, and celebrations. He included Tate in every conversation, and everyone immediately welcomed him.

He wondered if Adam’s friends assumed that he was Jewish. He’d picked up fairly quickly on saying, “Shabbat shalom,” and so far, it didn’t seem to matter. He hoped that would still be alright if their relationship turned more serious.

After lunch, Adam told him that he would usually stay for Torah study, but he figured that Tate had had enough. They walked around in the park instead, which was apparently another Shabbat tradition since everyone was refraining from work.

It was only after their second lap around the park that Tate realized that they hadn’t done anything for Hanukkah in the service.

“Oh!” Adam exclaimed. “I totally forgot to explain about that. We added the full hallel, that’s like, an extra musical praise section, to the service for Hanukkah. But it probably sounded just the same to you.”

“Was it at the end when the music got more upbeat?”

“Yeah. Those are praise songs, but we do the same ones for a few other holidays. Like I said, Hanukkah isn’t really a religious holiday. And most of it happens at night. People usually have parties on the first couple of nights, maybe make latkes a few other nights that week, and otherwise light some quick candles and forget about it.”

“I imagine it’s different with children,” Tate suggested.

“Yeah, but the whole presents every night thing is just a response to Christmas. Like, why would you give your kids presents because some dude won a battle two thousand years ago?”

“So, if Shabbat is a holy day, are you supposed to like, think chaste thoughts and devote yourself to prayer?”

“Ummm… it would be more accurate to say that you’re supposed to take joy in Shabbat, which you can do by devoting yourself to prayer and study, but also by enjoying good food and company. The minimum expectation, the mitzvah, is that you refrain from working. Regarding the chaste part, that’s not really a thing in Judaism.

“There are a lot of traditions around marriage and modesty and stuff, but if you’re married, the Torah tells you to be fruitful and multiply. So, having sex is also a mitzvah. There’s a bit of a joke that it can be a double mitzvah if you’re also taking joy in Shabbat.”

“Seriously? If we went home right now to fuck like bunnies that would be part of your religious tradition?”

“Well, Judaism is still pretty messed up about the whole gay thing. A man shall not lie with another man, and all that. It’s weirdly better about the trans thing—there are six genders in the Talmud, which is super cool. But aside from that, sex on Shabbat is a go.”

“What are we waiting for, then?”

Adam laughed and it felt like sunshine beaming down on Tate through the snow.

By the time they got home, Tate was surprised to realize that it was almost dark. He took a moment to gather Adam’s gifts, then met him in front of their makeshift menorah.

“I can’t believe it’s been six nights already,” admitted Adam, pressing the new candles into the wax of the old. “It’s been wonderful, Tate, truly. I didn’t think I could be so happy.”

Tate wrapped his arms around his boy from behind. If Adam was happy, why did he sound so wistful?

“You’ve made me unbelievably happy, baby. Thank you for sharing this with me. Are you ready to light the candles now?”

Adam nodded and Tate lit the shamash. Then, arms and fingers entwined, they sang the blessings and lit the candles together. Tate still needed to look at the box for the words, but he’d gotten the melody down. He could imagine many Hanukkahs in the future with Adam in his arms.

He pulled him back onto the couch and they watched the flickering lights together. He was feeling so calm, so peaceful and whole, that he wasn’t sure he should interrupt it with the gift he had planned.