In 2003, the popular television show The O.C. coined the term Chrismukkah to describe the melding of Christmas with Hanukkah.

As a convert to Judaism, I welcomed Chrismukkah with open arms and an open mind. And while I never openly celebrated Christmas post-conversion, the holiday was always a poignant reminder of my childhood and forever in my heart.

The first night of Hanukkah has fallen on December 25 four times since 1900 as follows:

1910, 1921, 1959, and 2005.

In 1959, I was six years old and a practicing Catholic, and in 2005, I was fifty-two and a practicing Jew.

And now, with Christmas and the first night of Hanukkah falling on December 25 for only the fifth time in 124 years, it got me thinking:

Who am I in God’s eyes?

When I converted to Judaism from Catholicism in 1984, I kept this well-guarded secret to myself:

As much as I tried, I was unable to trade in one belief system for another.

My conversion was never the walking away from one religion to another but the belief that I was going to be protected by both at a time in my life when I desperately needed any iteration of God.

I sought refuge from the highest of highs at my lowest of lows. And I leaned on the purity and beauty of both faiths to survive each and every day.

You could say I hedged my bets by melding Judaism with Christianity.

In the middle of my conversion process, I sought religious counsel from both a rabbi and a priest. I needed their spiritual guidance and acceptance, although it didn’t matter what they thought because I had already decided to take advantage of the best of both religions.

As part of the conversion process, I was required to appear before a “beit din” for a hearing. “Beit din” is Hebrew for “house of judgment” and is a Jewish court system presided by rabbis.

On the morning of my hearing, I woke up to a snowstorm. Without a car that day, I had to take three buses, which took almost four hours to reach Brooklyn for my scheduled interview.

To say I was nervous walking into the cavernous room was an understatement. My beit din consisted of three rabbis sitting side by side at an elaborately carved oblong wooden table perched on a dais high above me. I recall thinking that this beit din was intimidation at its finest.

The rabbis began the hearing by asking me the name on my birth certificate, my former religion, my spiritual education, and my family history. As I spoke, they wrote assiduously.

Then, they asked me to recite the Shema Yisrael, a Jewish prayer that serves as the centerpiece for the morning and evening prayer services. Despite my anxiety that I would forget large swaths of it, I was proud and relieved that I could recite the Shema in Hebrew from memory.

The rabbinical hearing lasted over an hour, and I felt relatively confident about how it went. As the rabbis sat silently reading through their notes, I was praying that my Jewish proceeding was finally over, but to my chagrin, they asked me one last question:

Who is Jesus to you?

My first thought was: Oh boy. Here we go.

My second thought was: Don’t screw this up.

I nervously looked up at the trinity of rabbis and pontificated that Jesus was Jewish, a beloved rabbi, and a reformer of Jewish beliefs. I went on to emphatically describe Jesus as a great Jewish prophet.

Additionally, I explained that Jesus was a revolutionary Israelite, so for me, converting to Judaism wasn’t that much of a religious stretch.

I ended my long-winded rationalization by stating that since Jesus was a Jew, I felt secure in my decision.

I was shuddering with apprehension that one of these rabbis would ask me what role Jesus would play in my religious future, but thank the Lord Jesus that they didn’t.

But if they had asked me, I would have had no option but to tell them the truth:

Jesus has been ingrained into my brain, heart, and soul since the beginning of my time, and His teachings will forever remain a part of me.

Perhaps I would not have revealed that I will always feel Jesus’ presence and believe Him to be omnipotent, but maybe I would have.

Because I’m confident that those three wise men would have agreed that very few people could ever or would ever fully and ultimately walk away from their beliefs or eradicate their entire religious and spiritual upbringing.

But I’ll never know if I would have truthfully admitted that no amount of time or Jewish religious instruction could ever erase Jesus or my knowledge of His teachings from my psyche.

If my calculations are correct, Hanukkah will fall on December 25 for the sixth time since 1900 in 2035.

I pray to God that I will be around and in good health to once again celebrate the holiday melding—as a Jew or a Christian.