Santa the Jew

Jane
Jan 3
3 min read

19/12/25

My daughter Sunny, who’s lived in Israel since she was two years old, decided to visit mum, knowing she was sick and fading away. She brought Mia, Evie, and little Eitan with her. Ben didn’t come because he was going with his father to a soccer match in Madrid, which sounded like a pretty good deal.

I was bubbling with excitement when I picked them up from the airport. There’s nothing like that moment when you haven’t seen family for so long, and suddenly — there they are, standing right in front of you.

Those first big hugs are moments of pure joy.

The kids were thrilled - here they were in Australia, that fantasy country, a 26-hour flight away from their little world in chaotic Israel. They couldn’t wait to see their aunties and uncles: Gili, Jimena, Coby, Celina, Graham …

And most of all they couldn’t wait to see mum -- their grandmother and great-grandmother — a grand 102 years old and very frail.

That was the real reason they came. As mum’s doctor said, ‘It’s remarkable she’s still alive’.

There was one more person they couldn’t wait to see in Australia, and it wasn’t a family member. It was someone they’d never seen before in real life — Santa. This dress-up character never meant much to me. I guess I grew up in Australia with lots of them around, and besides, we never really celebrated Christmas.

Driving home from the airport, tired and happy, we suddenly spotted him walking down the main road of Ashburton. I quickly stopped the car and we all jumped out, running after him just to touch him — to make sure he was real.

He was smiley and friendly, handed out a few small prezzies, and we chatted. I pointed to my family and explained that I’d just picked them up from the airport.

Then I stopped.

I felt ‘the dare’ rising in my head. Suddenly I had the urge to reveal to Santa they were from Israel; to tell him: MY FAMILY ARE JEWS FROM ISRAEL. I took a breath.

‘My daughter and grandkids have just arrived from… I hesitated, then said the word: ‘ISRAEL’.

That’s it. I’d said it. I’d entered deep water. Now let’s see what unfolds. I watched his reaction closely — a look, a comment, a shift in tone. A change in his pleasant face and eyes.

I was expecting him to say something horrible. I felt ready for the confrontation.

A few seconds passed.

‘Israel?’ He asked quietly.

I nodded. I could feel my heart beating.

Sunny and the kids were watching me, eyes wide open, nervous.

What came next was the last thing we expected.

‘Shalom! Shalom Aleichem!

His words took our breath away. Santa Claus was speaking Hebrew. He was saying Shalom. Peace.

May peace be with you.

We were speechless. How did he know Hebrew?

He told us he was Jewish and volunteered to dress up as Santa every year.

Go figure.

We’d bumped into Santa on a street in Ashburton. I’d hesitated to say we were from Israel. But I said it. And lo and behold, this Santa happened to be Jewish and spoke Hebrew.

Santa made our day.