In a recent syndicated column titled “Nonbelievers, Please Leave Christmas Alone” that ran in The Sun, the great Garrison Keillor takes umbrage with non-Christians who jump on the commercialization bandwagon of what we Jews call “that other December holiday.”

“This is spiritual piracy and cultural elitism, and we Christians have stood for it long enough,” he writes. “And all those lousy holiday songs by Jewish guys that trash up the malls every year, Rudolph and the chestnuts and the rest of that dreck. Did one of our guys write `Grab your loafers, come along if you wanna, and we’ll blow that shofar for Rosh Hashanah’? No, we didn’t.”

Amusing stuff. I’m sure plenty of curmudgeonly Jewish readers were incensed by Mr. Lake Wobegone’s remarks – one Sun reader even condemned the newspaper for printing the column – but Keillor has a point.

Think about it: some of the most popular (and schlocky) Christmas tunes of all time were penned by Jews. Of course, there’s “White Christmas” by Irving Berlin, Johnny Marks’ “Rudolph The Red-Nosed Reindeer” and “A Holly Jolly Christmas,” “Let It Snow! Let It Snow! Let It Snow!” by Sammy Cahn and Jules Styne,” “Silver Bells” by Jay Livingston and Ray Evans, even “The Christmas Song” by Mel Torme – the list goes on and on.

“Christmas is a Christian holiday,” growls Mr. Keillor. “If you’re not in the club, then buzz off.”

OK, so maybe ol’ Garrison needs to take a chill pill. But really, why do we Jews produce these mawkish tunes that have galvanized the masses to contemplate a holiday scenario – one of tinsel and holly and eggnog swilling – that even by our Christian friends’ standards always seems to fall short?

Let’s not forget that most of these songs tend to have melancholy melodies, or at least inhabit a rather lonesome and longing quality, despite the allegedly cheerful and blissful nature of the holiday. I think that comes from our own yearning for all that this holiday promises, even though we know that we can never really fully participate.

I’ve met Jews who have Christmas trees. “It’s just for fun,” they say, “it has nothing to do with the birth of Jesus or Santa or anything. It’s not a religious thing.” Even in my own family, I must confess, there was some gift-giving to young children on December 25th, a desire by my parents that I “shouldn’t feel left out.”

Perhaps we Jews in the Galut are eternally condemned to wishing that we, too, could share in the Yuletide festivities (and perhaps that’s why we’ve made Chanukah into something that it’s not – the Jewish version of Christmas). We have our collective nose pressed up to the glass doors, watching our friends get to enjoy all of the beautiful lights and revelry and trains and delicious food, and of course, the gifts!

Me, I’ve come to appreciate Christmas on a whole different level as an adult. I enjoy it because, well, it has absolutely nothing to do with me. I get to enjoy all the lights and decorations, the cookies and good cheer and such, and yet be relieved of the family stress, travel headaches, gift-buying frenzy and delusional expectations that accompany the holiday. For me, it’s simply a pleasant time of the year that I can turn on and off at will, like a silly Christmas TV special.

I know that Garrison Keillor is merely joking around when he writes that Jews should leave Christmas alone and stop pushing our musical “dreck.” But if our schools and shuls were doing their jobs right all along, would anyone have written these ditties about chestnuts or sleigh bells in the first place?

Sam Stone. The name itself is as solid and dependable as the man.

Last Saturday morning, Dec. 12, my old friend Sam’s synagogue, Moses Montefiore Anshe Emunah Hebrew Congregation, honored him for his decades of service to the Pikesville shul.

Sam got a new title at MMAE – he will become the congregation’s president emeritus, after years of holding many leadership titles with the shul. Sam tells me he is not being put out to pasture and that he will remain active in the leadership and direction of MMAE.

That’s a good thing, particularly at this critical juncture when Rabbi Elan Adler is planning to leave the shul to relocate in Israel. With his strong mind, charisma, work ethic and sense of Yiddishkeit, Sam will continue to be integral to MMAE’s growth.

As a former Hebrew school student and bar mitzvah at Moses Montefiore Woodmoor Hebrew, I want to wish a hearty yasher koach to Sam and his lovely wife, Sylvia, as well as to the folks at MMAE. Much good luck to this wonderful congregation for a promising future.

Sam, you’re the best.

The other day, someone who isn’t Jewish asked me to define the Yiddish word mentsch. I did the best job I could, explaining that it means someone who is a decent, caring, upright individual.

I know a lot of people who call themselves mentsches, but it’s rare that I see what I consider “mentschlikeit” behavior.

But every now and then, something comes up to remind me that there are some mentsches out there.

Recently, I was at a Judaica shop in town. A friend of mine who lives in a non-Jewish area asked if I could get him a Chanukah cookie cutter set, since I live on the “Jewish side” of town. (By the way, I’m not mentioning this to in any way indicate that I am a mentsch. Believe me, I know better, and my wife can second me on this.)

While I waited in line, there was an elderly Russian lady ahead of me with a thick accent and a radiant smile. “Excuse me,” she said politely to the woman behind the cash register, “I am trying to buy mezuzah for my son. But I don’t know what to get him. Can I get help?”

The woman behind the cash register, in a brusque fashion, replied, “OK, well, do you want a mezuzah case or the actual mezuzah, the parchment?” The Russian woman smiled but did not answer. She obviously didn’t understand the question, presumably because of language barriers as well as never receiving a Jewish education in the former Soviet Union.

The saleswoman sighed, reached beneath the counter and pulled out a mezuzah parchment. “This is what I mean,” she said, sounding quite irritated. “This is what a mezuzah is. Without this, it’s nothing, just a case. Is this what you want?”

The Russian lady hesitated for a moment, smiled at me with embarrassment on her face, and said, “Uh, no, I need the other thing. My son, he not so religious.”

Exasperated, the saleswoman pointed her in the direction of a wall full of mezuzah cases and said, “Look, just go over there and see what’s there. But it doesn’t mean anything without the real mezuzah.” Then, she looked at me and said, “Can I help you?”

Suddenly, a young man with a thick, dark beard and a black hat said to the saleswoman, “Don’t worry about it, I’ll take care of it and pay for it,” meaning the parchment. But the saleswoman couldn’t leave it at that.

“OK,” she said, “but you need to explain to her that that [the case] doesn’t meaning anything without this [the parchment]. They all think these [parchments] are just instructions, and they just throw ‘em away after hanging up the cases.”

The young man smiled at her patiently and said, “Don’t worry, I’ll explain it all to her. That’s what I do for a living.” He then walked over to the Russian lady and said, “Hello, can I help you, please?” The lady beamed and thanked him.

I didn’t get a chance to talk to this man because, frankly, I was in a bit of a rush. But if I had, I would’ve thanked him for being a mentsch in a world where “un-mentschlikeit” behavior seems to dominate.

It’s nice to know that there are still some mentsches out there. We should all try to emulate their behavior from time to time.