Full of helpful advice for families starting to think about their child's bat or bar mitzvah, Bar & Bat Mitzvah For The Interfaith Family will be a helpful primer to all families (not just interfaith!).
This colorful booklet will give all the basics about this holiday which combines elements of Halloween, Mardi Gras and the secular new year. It is a holiday not only for children who know immediately that anything with a costume will be fun, but for adults too.
Connecting Interfaith Families to Jewish Life in Greater Cleveland by providing programs and opportunities for interfaith families to experience Judaism in a variety of venues, meet other interfaith families, and to connect to other Jewish organizations that may serve their needs.
This is an interactive, fun, and low-key workshop for couples who are dating, engaged or recently married. The sessions will give you a chance to ask questions about faith, to think about where you are as an adult with your own spirituality and to talk through what's important to you and your partner.
A great way for Jewish professionals and volunteers who work with and provide programming for people in interfaith relationships to locate resources and trainings to build more welcome into their Jewish communities; connect with and learn from each other; and publicize and enhance their programs and services.
It’s been quiet on the intermarriage front for a while; it feels like most people’s attention is understandably in the political realm these days. But in the past two weeks there has been interesting news and comment on intermarriage in the more traditional, conservative parts of the Jewish community.
When people talk about intermarriage, for example about the 72 percent rate of intermarriage since 2000 among non-Orthodox Jews, the general understanding is that intermarriage isn’t much of a phenomenon in the Orthodox world. A fascinating blog post on intermarriage in the Orthodox world, The Rise of Interfaith Marriage in the Modern Orthodox Community, suggests that that may not be the case. The blog’s creator, Alan Brill, estimates that 7-8 percent of young Modern Orthodox Jews are intermarried, and says that “ordinary Modern Orthodox Jews are talking about this topic,…” He also says “cases of full Orthodox conversion … are now quite common.”
Most of the blog post is a guest post by “Ruvie,” a Modern Orthodox man, writing about his feelings about his son’s marriage to someone who was not Jewish – feelings that aren’t that different from those of many non-Orthodox Jews.
Ruvie says he is aware of five interfaith marriages in the past year and a half among children of his observant Modern Orthodox friends. “All parents went through various stages of shame, anger, confusion and guilt.” “This is something new and growing in the MO community.” He refers to estimates of 5 to 20 percent intermarriage rates in the Orthodox world.
Ruvie complains that there is a taboo about talking about intermarriage that no longer exists in other controversial topics in Orthodoxy, like homosexuality and people abandoning Orthodoxy:
Rabbis are afraid to be publicly associated with this topic. Parents are reluctant to talk to friends, Rabbis, and extended family. They first are embarrassed and in denial then hope and pray it goes away as a phase not wanting to alienate their children – or they fight and alienate their children.
Ruvie describes the reactions of his friends and himself:
On a personal level, for myself and others, there was a certain amount of: shame in being in this situation – didn’t discuss with my closest friends until later, anger at our ourselves (as failures) and our educational system, confusion – how could this have happened and where is my allegiance – son, family, community and Judaism? [A]nd lastly a certain amount of guilt.
It is very clear that Ruvie’s son may have left Modern Orthodoxy but has not left Jewish life. The officiating rabbi recommended that the young woman take an introduction to Judaism course and during the course she decided to undergo a Conservative conversion. Before the wedding the son asked the father to put up a mezuzah at his apartment; after the wedding the son asked his mother where he could ritually immerse their dishes.
It is also very clear that Ruvie prioritizes his relationship with his son:
My son’s happiness and ascent from loneliness is an important factor in the equation. I realize that being supportive leads to possible normalization of interfaith marriage. As a parent the best interest and wellbeing of my child supersedes other considerations that are communal in nature.
Ruvie’s conclusion: “There is a lack of open conversation and dialogue on this topic in our community. Let’s begin now.”
The Conservative movement currently restricts synagogue membership to Jews. The recent news, described in a JTA article, “Conservative movement proposes allowing non-jews as synagogue members,” is that the United Synagogue of Conservative Judaism (the association of Conservative synagogues) is asking the synagogues to vote in March to allow individual synagogues to decide whether to grant membership to those who are not Jewish. Rabbi Steven Wernick, head of USCJ, said that “the current standards don’t make sense in a world where many intermarried couples are active participants in Conservative congregations” and that “the language of ‘only Jews can be members of a synagogue’ makes it seem like [someone who is not Jewish] who is connected is not a member of that community.”
Rabbi Wernick also said that the USCJ is not changing the definition of who counts as Jewish: “What we’re trying to do with this is distinguish between community and covenant.” But Rabbi Chuck Simon, head of the Federation of Jewish Men’s Clubs and the most outspoken Conservative leader on intermarriage issues, recently created a pamphlet in which he essentially recommends that the Conservative movement adopt patrilineal descent. “The Elephant in the Room: Conservative Judaism and the Patrilineal Question.”
It will be interesting to see movement in the Modern Orthodox and the Conservative parts of the community toward more acceptance and welcoming of interfaith families.
It was all over the news. “Ivanka and Jared can ride in cars on inauguration Shabbat” proclaimed the New York Post on Thursday, January 19. “Ivanka Trump and Jared Kushner Get Rabbinic Pass to Ride in Car on Inauguration Shabbat” said a headline in The Forward. All of my friends were talking about this and posting about it on social media. How could Ivanka and Jared say that they’re modern Orthodox Jews, who observe the Sabbath, and yet they’d be traveling in a car following Donald Trump’s inauguration on Friday, after the beginning of Shabbat? Why were they granted special permission by a rabbi to use a vehicle on Shabbat out of safety? After all, my friends would point out, Ivanka and Jared didn’t have to go to the inaugural balls and galas. Other friends were saying that they probably got the dispensation because they’re rich and powerful.
The more I heard people criticize Ivanka and Jared, the more uncomfortable I got. Whether or not I like or support them or the president is irrelevant; I don’t think I have the right to criticize Ivanka and Jared’s Jewish observance.
I often hear people judge interfaith couples and families just as they’ve been judging Ivanka and Jared.
If the Jewish partner truly cared about Judaism, they say, then they wouldn’t have married someone who isn’t Jewish. (For my personal thoughts on this issue, see my post ‘Marrying Out is not ‘Abandoning Judaism’.)
If they wanted to have a Jewish home, they wouldn’t have a Christmas tree.
Their children aren’t really Jewish because the mother is Christian and they never took the children to a mikveh (ritual bath) to convert them.
How could they have had both a rabbi and a priest at their wedding?
How can the Christian mom be raising Jewish kids if she herself goes to church?
Many years ago, Rabbi Israel Salanter said, “Most men worry about their own bellies and other people’s souls, when we all ought to be worried about our own souls and other people’s bellies.” What a beautiful teaching! Wouldn’t it be great if all of us could spend less time focusing on and talking about the ways in which other people practice their religion, and more time trying to bring healing to our fractured world?
I spend a lot of time advocating for interfaith couples and families to be accepted by the Jewish community “as they are” and encouraging synagogues and Jewish institutions to welcome and embrace all those who want to walk through their doors, rather than judging them. I think that it’s only fair that I speak out in favor of giving that same respect to Ivanka and Jared. Let’s not obsess over the fact that they traveled in a car on Shabbat – it’s not really news. We’d all be a lot better off, to paraphrase Rabbi Salanter, focusing on our own spiritual and religious lives and concerning ourselves with eliminating hunger and poverty. Now that’s something to talk about.
A significant upcoming convening may lay the groundwork for something missing from the liberal Jewish community for the past twenty-five years: concerted action by funders and community leaders to engage more interfaith families in Jewish life and community.
The goal of the Summit is to explore – with funders, federations, leaders of Jewish organizations and interfaith family engagement practitioners – the issues that need to be addressed to have more interfaith families engage in Jewish life and community, and begin to build consensus for increased efforts towards that end.
Jewish leaders have repeatedly expressed concern since high intermarriage rates were announced in the early 1990’s. In most fields – day schools, camps, teen engagement, Israel trips, social justice – funders and professionals have joined together to plan, support and execute major programmatic activities to strengthen organizations and expand recruitment.
The field of engaging interfaith families, however, is different, distinguished by the lack of concerted action by funders and professionals. Individual organizations – notably the Reform movement, Big Tent Judaism, and InterfaithFamily – have developed and offered successful programmatic efforts, and generous foundations, federations and individuals have made those efforts possible with financial support. But there has never been concerted action like that in other fields, apart from a proposal for joint action by several foundations in 2008-2009 that failed because of losses dues to Madoff and the economic downturn.
It is interesting to speculate on the reasons why arguably the single most important issue for the liberal Jewish community has not attracted concerted action. It may be that intermarriage is still viewed so negatively by so many that funders and professionals are discouraged from supporting any related efforts that are not designed to discourage or prevent it. Or, that there is simply too wide a chasm between those who wish to prevent or discourage intermarriage and those that seek to embrace and welcome interfaith couples and families – and therefore, no shared understanding of the way forward.
Recent signs, however, indicate a growing shift in attitudes that could support significant concerted action to engage interfaith families – most notably, the award of the Genesis Prize to Michael Douglas in order to highlight the importance of welcoming intermarried families, followed by the Jewish Funders Network/Genesis Prize matching grant initiative to attract increased financial support for those welcoming efforts. In addition, there has been increased attention from organizations like Hillel, and the Union for Reform Judaism’s “Audacious Hospitality” work.
The Interfaith Opportunity Summit will now bring together everyone interested or potentially interested in engaging interfaith families Jewishly – foundations, federations, Jewish organizations and interfaith family engagement practitioners. The initial response to the Summit is another sign of shifting attitudes; in addition to partnering with the JFN and the JFNA, participants in the Summit program include:
the URJ, Big Tent Judaism, Honeymoon Israel and InterfaithFamily;
the Schusterman, Crown, Jacobson, Lippman Kanfer, Miller, Joyce & Irving Goldman, and Genesis Prize foundations;
the Philadelphia, Boston, New York and LA federations;
national organizations including Hillel, the Foundation for Jewish Camp, PJ Library, the JCC Association, the Society for Classical Reform Judaism, the Reconstructionist movement, the Federation of Jewish Mens Clubs and International Institute for Secular Humanistic Judaism;
thought leaders including Yehuda Kurtzer, Alan Cooperman, Ted Sasson, Tobin Belzer, Fern Chertok, Wendy Rosov, Susan Katz Miller, Keren McGinity, Paul Golin and Marion Usher;
numerous innovative organizations including Romemu, Lab/Shul, jewbelong, Tribe 12, Sixth & I, CentralSynagogue, Rodeph Shalom, the JCC in Manhattan, Jewish Learning Ventures.
Because of the importance of understanding the lived experiences of interfaith families, Summit participants will also hear from millennial children of intermarriage, young interfaith couples, and interfaith families with young children. The grantees of the JFN/Genesis Prize matching grant initiative, and other interfaith family engagement programs, have all been invited to participate and discuss their programs with interested attendees at tables over an extended lunchtime.
The Summit will provide a rich discussion of the issues that need to be addressed to have more interfaith families engage in Jewish life and community. How can Jews and their partners from different faith traditions experience the value of Jewish wisdom, express their spirituality in Jewish settings, and feel included in “the Jewish people?” How can we effectively reach the spectrum of interfaith couples, from those who are seeking to those who are not, through messaging and marketing to interfaith families, and relationship building/community organizing approaches to them? What services and programs are effective entry points and ways to facilitate progress into more engagement, and what promising trends are emerging? How can we address difficult attitude and boundary issues surrounding intermarriage: privileging in-marriage, wedding officiation, ritual participation, and conversion? Can those who say they are “doing both” be included in Jewish life and communities?
The concluding plenary will tie together the preceding sessions and address what a local Jewish community needs to offer to engage interfaith families, and the appropriate roles of general programs aimed at and marketed for everyone, and programs targeted at people in interfaith relationships.
By bringing together funders and organization leaders – people in a position to make things happen – with practitioners in the field, we hope to build consensus on what increased efforts need to be taken to engage interfaith families and to facilitate the possibility of concerted large-scale action towards that goal. We hope that you’ll be there to join the conversation.
One of the most difficult aspects of pregnancy for me—especially right now in week 36—is the prospect of leaving my other baby: InterfaithFamily. It’s only temporary, I know, but the idea of dropping everything for several weeks has required more than a bit of office nesting (is that a thing?) over the last several months.
Marketing director Liz (left) and executive assistant Jamie make beautiful onesies and bibs at my baby shower
I’m not paving new ground here. Mothers- and fathers-to-be go through this process every day. While stepping away from a job where there is no backup—no other person who does the same job you do and can simply fill in for you—makes it all the more difficult, I have something that very few other people have. The IFF family.
I’ve already learned so much from all of our strong, wise parenting writers, especially the new ones, Anna and Anne, who are first-time moms to adorable babies. While my experience will not be from the perspective of an interfaith couple, there are so many big and small decisions to make and questions to work out for all parents before and after having a child. Seeing how our wedding and parenting bloggers approach overwhelming and sometimes incredibly challenging moments with respect, communication and grace is inspiring.
Liz makes the perfect bib for an editor mom-to-be
I’m also blessed to work with some of the most compassionate people I know. It doesn’t hurt that many of them are parents (and grandparents!). One lesson I’ve already learned is that everything is easier when you surround yourself with a supportive community. My co-workers have been a constant source of insight and understanding throughout this journey. They have been there to kvell (rejoice) with me and to listen to me vent. From giving me their maternity clothes to decorating onesies to sharing their children’s favorite books, this family has buoyed me for the last nine months.
I have no doubt that the walls of the editorial department will not crumble in my absence, thanks to the several people who are stepping up to help while I’m gone. I hope to return a wiser person with new perspectives to bring to the work we do at IFF, albeit a wee bit less rested. If you have a question while I’m gone? Not to fear: I’ll get back to you in December (wink, wink).
While I’m having a hard time letting go of my work baby, my husband and I are filled with awe and anticipation at meeting and getting to know the baby inside me. Thank you to the extended IFF family, and of course my own friends and family, who share in our simcha (joy). We couldn’t do it without you.
Rabbi Malka (left) at a Black Lives Matter rally in Atlanta
My face lit up as we entered the room full of glittery drag queens prancing around the stage, singing cheesy, campy songs. Sally Struthers was relaxing in the audience after her performance at the local theater (don’t worry, we got a photo with her); dozens of queers were laughing and holding hands and flirting and drinking. It was our first time at a gay bar since the shooting in Orlando and we felt at home. My partner and I have been shaken up after recent events and were thrilled to be surrounded by “family.” My heart was soaring as we arrived on the dance floor full of gay, lesbian, bisexual, transgender and gender non-conforming folks. We felt free in our bodies. We felt safe as a queer couple. I looked around the room and saw beautiful loving souls celebrating life, celebrating love.
So, it surprised me when tears suddenly came rolling down my face. In that moment I truly, deeply knew what it meant to say, “We Are Orlando.” This tragedy could have happened anywhere at any time. Anyone could have been the victims. I hugged my partner close and sobbed on her shoulder. “This could have been us,” I thought.
As we left the nightclub that evening, I grabbed my sweetie’s hand tight.
That night I felt heartbreak and pain, but it felt good to be with my community. And while I didn’t feel safe, exactly, I felt at home with my people. Happy.
Like everyone I know, I’d been shattered by the shootings at Pulse nightclub in Orlando. Like everyone in my community, I voiced my outrage, marched, cried. Being surrounded by my queer community and loving allies filled me with hope and connection. Connection to everyone around me. Connection to the Source of Healing.
Only days later, the world was rocked by violence, once again. Only this time it wasn’t my people. This time, black men were killed in the streets. This time felt different. While I grieved with my Black friends and community, this wasn’t my community. This was not my family. I cried tears for those who suffered from trauma, who were scared, who were victims of individual and institutionalized White Supremacy.
Rabbi Malka (bottom left) with other local rabbis at a protest this winter at the capital against a homophobic “religious freedom” bill
My heart sank when I learned of the retaliation attacks against police officers. My head has been spinning. The world I live in has been feeling shattered, broken and in need of mending.
It’s been a painful month.
And it’s easy to feel powerless. Scared. Angry. It’s easy to point fingers and blame and stomp and run away.
Part of me wants to run and hide and ignore the world around me and wrap myself up in the safety of my White Privilege. Wouldn’t that be easy? When I drive down the street, I don’t have to worry about being pulled over. When I peruse through the grocery store, no one assumes that I am shoplifting as I carefully place produce into my canvas shopping bags. I don’t worry for my brother’s safety when he is out in the world. I’m not fearful for my nephew’s life. It would be so easy, so simple to just check out and ignore the horrific news stories and be silent.
And part of me wants to hide in my femme, cis-gendered privilege. I can easily pass as a straight woman, avoid gay bars, use the women’s bathroom without being questioned or harassed and feel “safe.”
But I can’t hide behind my many layers of privilege. I can’t just run away. The tug is too strong. As a Jew, as a queer female identified cis-woman, as a feminist, as a white person and as a rabbi, I know that it is my obligation, my duty and my responsibility to work toward radical inclusion and social justice. It is my duty to work toward tikkun olam, healing the world.
Today, I choose to be loud. To be a part of the solution. To take a stand.
And this is complicated. What does it mean to be an advocate for the queer community, a group of people of whom I am a part? My people. My precious loved ones.
And what does it mean to be an advocate for the Black community, a group of people of whom I am not a part? My friends. My allies. My precious loved ones.
How can I use my power and privilege to create change in the world? Not as a savior, not as a hero, but as an ally. As a fellow human being.
Today, I choose to take action. Today, I choose to:
* Educate myself and my community about racism, about micro-aggressions, about White Supremacy and about White Privilege. About homophobia, transphobia and the bathroom laws.
* Donate to advocacy groups like Black Lives Matter, Atlanta Movement for Black Lives Reparations Fund, Help Queer&Trans Women and Femmes of Color Heal, SOJOURN (Southern Jewish Resource Network for Gender and Sexual Diversity), Georgia Equality and Equality Federation.
* Participate in rallies, protests, marches, vigils and spiritual gatherings.
* Volunteer to engage local residents in community conversations about why updating our non-discrimination laws to include gay and transgender people is vital.
Today, I will challenge narratives. I will listen actively. I will love deeply. In the words of Abraham Joshua Heshel, today I will “pray with my feet.”
I need to apologize. I’ve been quiet. I’ve been in my isolated bubble of white-straight-privilege and been perfectly fine in there. Don’t get me wrong, I was outraged, but I was also paralyzed by inaction, and quiet about it. I told myself I was doing really great work by helping people turned away from Jewish communities because of their spouse’s religion. I thought that was my form of social action, or at least that’s how I justified my silence (or maybe even apathy). But mass shooting after mass shooting I’ve gotten outraged for a few days and then gone on with my life. I’ve called my representatives and written letters once or twice, and then I’ve gotten busy and stopped.
I am sorry. I have sinned against my fellow humans by complacency. I have sinned against God by failing to act to save God’s creations. I am sorry.
When I woke up early on Sunday June 12 to the news that 20 people had been killed at a nightclub in Orlando, I was outraged. I shook my husband awake saying “there’s been another shooting, it’s just awful.” And then I went out in the living room to care for my young children who have no capacity for this kind of news, but while we played with blocks I couldn’t shake the pit in my stomach or stop the tears from welling in my eyes.
As the number of murdered humans rose to 49, my sadness grew. As details started emerging about the location and circumstances, the anger grew. All day as I fed my kids and entertained them along with my sister who was in town, I tried to sort through my feelings.
The same thoughts kept flooding my mind:
100 people were shot. By 1 man.
A gay nightclub.
How is this possible?
Do I know anyone there?
Does anyone I know, know anyone there?
100 people shot by 1 man.
How could this be possible?
And then I thought about it: Of course it’s possible. It’s possible because of people like me who go through their day sipping on cold brew and checking Facebook and watching Netflix and potty training kids and being busy at work and having family problems and and and and…
Don’t get me wrong, I’ve called my state representatives and written letters. Could I have called more and written more? Yes. Can I do more? Absolutely.
The violent act of murder and hate in Orlando on Sunday was the sound of the shofar I needed to hear to wake up and stand up. But to do what, I had no idea. I spent the evening and following day signing petitions, calling my friends, especially checking in with my LGBTQ friends whose trauma was only something I could begin to understand.
I attended a vigil on Monday evening at LA City Hall. I stood there, a straight, white, Jewish, upper-middle-class woman in a crowd of thousands of LGBTQ people and allies. I heard speech after speech exclaiming the personal trauma that people were feeling in the aftermath of the shooting, and I started to get it. I heard things like, “we’ve fought for our lives before and we’ll do it again,” and “we are singing for our lives.”
Since last Sunday I’ve wanted to scream from the rooftops “I’m mad as hell and I’m not going to take it anymore” but there’s so much to do that I don’t know where to start.
On Monday I started with mourning. Mourning the 49 victims and 53 injured bodies and millions of souls. Mourning the end of the privileged life I’ve led in Scottsdale and Portland and Pasadena where I never sat in a school lockdown or knew someone killed by a hate crime. I mourned the ideal future I had imagined for my children, a future free from hate and violence.
I took Rabbi Denise Eger’s mourning prayer to heart as I listened to people speak the names of the 49 people murdered in Orlando on June 12 at the Pulse nightclub.
And now what? What do I do? What can I say? I know now I do not have the privilege of keeping silent. I have a voice and I need to use it, but who am I to stand up?
I am Moses saying “Who am I that I should go to Pharaoh and free the Israelites from Egypt?” I am Moses saying, “The Israelites would not listen to me, a man of impeded speech, why should Pharaoh listen to me?” (Shemot 7)
I have let my privilege and excuses be my impediment. But now I am here.
Hineini. Here I am.
I am here, screaming from the rooftops: ENOUGH.
I am standing up as an ally to all of my LGBTQ friends.
I am standing up as a clergy person who has a voice to comfort but also to empower.
I am standing up as a mom who wants a better safer future for her children.
I am standing up as a director at an organization that helps people who have been marginalized.
I am standing up as a person who lost a friend to suicide by gun he had easy access to.
I am standing up as a human being.
Who’s with me? Who will walk with me through the wilderness of gun control legislation and LGBTQ rights and human rights and freedom of religion and freedom to marry and and and and?
I have been quiet. But I’m not quiet anymore. There’s so much we can do. What will you do?
As the sun began to set on a Friday night in June, 15 professional women in their 20s & 30s gathered in a gazebo to sing and welcome in Shabbat. The gazebo was next to an organic vegetable garden and overlooked a beautiful field that was surrounded by the woods. Most of us traveled about an hour to get to the Am Kollel Sanctuary Retreat Center in Beallsville, Maryland. Others came from San Francisco, Boston, Toronto and New York. We gathered for the At the Well East Coast retreat.
This was a retreat in its truest sense of the word: out of the city, , fresh air, a respite in nature from our hectic lives, delicious Shabbat meals cooked by DC chef and baker Julia Kann, morning yoga, small group conversations and a hike. On Shabbat, we had an opportunity to both study a Torah text about the spring holiday of Shavuot in which ancient Israelites offered the first fruits of their labors at the Temple in Jerusalem, as well as learn about women’s cycles as they connect to the phases of the moon and the seasons.
It was also what At the Well’s founder and chief momma Sarah Waxman called a “Meeting of Minds and Hearts.” After Shabbat, we turned our attention to the organization, hearing Sarah’s mission and vision for supporting groups of women (called Well Circles) who gather monthly to learn about Jewish spirituality and health and wellness. These Well Circles meet all over the country. Sarah sends out a monthly resource packet that is gorgeously designed with teachings about each Hebrew month, poetry, suggestions for discussions and activities to do in one’s Well Circle, ancient wisdom and modern day intentions. The idea of the Well Circle is part ancient gathering in celebration of Rosh Chodesh, the holiday of the new moon/first of each Hebrew month, and part modern Lean In circle.
Having been part of Rosh Chodesh circles on and off for the better part of a decade and having led my own Rosh Chodesh group in New Haven for two years, I was thrilled to connect with the At The Well project just as Sarah was launching it. Over the past eight months, I’ve been a rabbinic adviser to the project—writing for some of its monthly resources, supporting the cause and co-sponsoring the retreat with IFF/DC. While I love this project for what it is, I also love it for what it can be—and that the mission is expansive enough to support Jewish women and those female-identified in their 20s and 30s, as well as women from interfaith homes or in interfaith relationships, those who are exploring Judaism or conversion and even women of other faiths or no religion at all who are interested in what Jewish wisdom has to teach us about reconnecting with our bodies and our souls.
The ample time for one-on-one and small group conversations allowed participants to share their own stories. One woman who grew up in an interfaith household and did not have as much Jewish education as a child as she wanted, told me how much more comfortable she felt at the retreat just because I was there, knowing IFF/DC was part of it. She is moving to New York for graduate school in the fall and going to reach out to a former friend and mentor to explore Jewish learning.
Another woman I met who grew up in a more traditional Jewish household recently married a man of another faith. I told her more about IFF/DC, our Love and Religion workshops and Interfaith Shabbat dinner meet-ups. I also spoke with a woman who is exploring what Judaism means to her; having been very involved with Jewish life on campus she is no longer interested in institutional Judaism. She is in the process of figuring out her own connection to Judaism in her life now and how to share that with her boyfriend who is not Jewish. I look forward to continuing this and many other conversations.
As I listened to each participant speak about her journey, I realized over and over how important it is that our Jewish spaces be open enough to have these kinds of conversations. I am so glad that the At the Well project can be one of those spaces.
I know there are more women who are looking for intentional community, looking for peers to discuss and learn with, who may want to become part of a Well Circle. If you are, please get in touch with me at email@example.com or reach out to Sarah Waxman for more info and to receive the monthly teachings at firstname.lastname@example.org.
The At the Well East Coast Retreat was co-sponsored by the Schusterman Family Foundation, InterfaithFamily/DC and Jewish Food Experience. Learn more at atthewellproject.com.
Last month, I sat with 25 people who gathered over breakfast to talk about being part of interfaith families. As the Director of an InterfaithFamily community, there is nothing new or remarkable about that; I bring interfaith couples together regularly to share stories and support one another as they explore religious life. What is noteworthy about this particular group of people is that they were all Jewish professionals, working in Hillels around the country. We were attendees at the Hillel International Global Assembly and this was a first-of-its-kind meeting for people who work in Jewish campus life and are in interfaith relationships. Some of the participants in this discussion were “out” about their relationships while others hoped no one from their campus community or staff would know they had attended the meeting. Many others did not feel comfortable attending at all for fear they would be found out, possibly resulting in losing their jobs.
I have written about how one’s choice of partner does not necessarily reflect one’s commitment to Jewish life. This is certainly true personally, and I know scores of other Jewish professionals like me who are wholly dedicated to enriching Jewish life in our generation, and are themselves partnered with people from other cultural and religious backgrounds. With an intermarriage rate of around 70 percent in non-Orthodox Jewish communities, it is clear that Jewish-Jewish couples are about to become a rarer sight than interfaith ones. Many of those who marry someone from another background are active in Jewish life and have every intention of continuing that involvement. Some are so dedicated to a thriving Jewish community that they become Jewish professionals. Yet when they get there, they often feel that they can’t bring their whole selves to their work for fear of being labeled bad role models.
I hear the worry that Jewish campus professionals, more than professionals in other Jewish settings, are especially poised to be role models for young Jews at the time in their lives when they are getting serious about dating and marriage. Being intermarried would sanction the decision to marry out of the tradition, the argument goes. But let’s look realistically at the demographics of our current Jewish college students. According to a recent study, “Among millennials, born between 1981 and 1995, … partly as a result of the high rate at which millennial children of intermarriage identify as Jewish, half of all Jews in their generation are children of intermarriage” [the Brandeis Millennial Children of Intermarriage study, p.5].
This next generation is often trying to figure out how to honor both parents as they explore religious life on campus and chart a way forward. Furthermore, many if not most of them are interdating or have at least explored the idea. The same study shows that the percentage of young adults who think it is important to marry someone Jewish is extremely low for children of in-married parents and even lower for the children of intermarried parents [Ibid, pg. 43]. Pretending that Jewish college students are largely choosing only to date other Jews is causing us to miss out on some profound conversations. They are not merely deciding on a partner; they are contemplating how they will bring meaning into their lives, they are beginning to own and make decisions as adults for their own spiritual journeys, and they are determining what role Judaism will play in their lives going forward.
These college students need diverse role models, a plethora of professional exemplars so they can see how an adult makes Jewishly committed decisions when Judaism is not the default. They need models to demonstrate how interfaith families navigate raising kids in a still-conflicted Jewish community, and how couples have healthy conversations with in-laws and grandparents about religious choices. If they do partner with someone Jewish, they will inevitably have extended family members who marry someone outside of Judaism at their family holiday table. They need models and forums to discuss how we can best navigate the increasing diversity in the Jewish community.
We are also missing the whole picture when we think only of undergraduates in the Hillel picture. Many Hillels have vibrant graduate student and young adult communities. Large numbers of these young people arrive on campus already having made their decisions about a life partner, and many of those relationships are with people from different religious and cultural backgrounds. They also seek support and models as they begin their lives together.
Those of us with religiously diverse families are uniquely situated as Jewish professionals to bring wisdom, knowledge and compassion to interfaith families exploring Jewish life. Drawing on our personal stories and experience, we are poised to model for others how good communication, flexibility and introspection can help strengthen the next generation of seekers. The current generation of inter-partnered Jewish professionals aren’t the first … and won’t be the last. Judaism’s greatest leader, Moses, married Tzipporah. Not only was she not a Hebrew; she was the daughter of a Midianite priest. Her father, Jethro, condoned this union and even offered Moses sound advice on leading the Israelites.
Hillel has come a very long way. When I began working for the campus organization, it was made clear that professionals would not be allowed to perform an interfaith marriage ceremony, let alone be partnered with someone from another background. Thank you, Hillel International, for providing the space for such an important conversation when field professionals were brave enough to step forward and express the deep need for community and support. I look forward to the time when all Jewish professionals can bring their whole selves to their workplaces, proud to be exemplars for the Jewish campus community as they dedicate their life and work to strengthening Judaism for the next generation.
Of course there is no such thing as the “best partner,” but you want your loved one to feel that you are their best partner, right? Whether you’re dating, married or seriously committed, the best gift you can give your loved one is to be supportive—even on those rare (or not so rare) occasions when you don’t see eye to eye.
1. Speak your mind: Speaking up is just as important as listening. If your partner doesn’t know how you feel, they can’t be sensitive to your feelings. If Passover’s coming up and you’d really like a hand preparing to host the holiday, don’t wait for them to offer—ask! So many relationship struggles come from lack of communication. If you’re visiting your significant other’s parents and you’re anxious about not being familiar with certain religious rituals that might come up during a holiday of a religion you don’t practice, ask for a primer (better yet, if it’s Jewish information you seek, find one here!). You’ll feel more comfortable and your loved one will appreciate your interest in their religion.
2. Go halfsies: My husband and I annoyingly like to tease each other that “what’s yours is mine” when it comes to that ice cream sundae or a winning scratch ticket. But it goes both ways. When I see him eyeing the last of my homemade Hanukkah cookies: “What’s mine is yours.” When that wine bottle is almost empty: “What’s mine is yours.” When you’re both generous with the little things, you might find you’re in a better mindset to compromise on the big stuff too.
3. Get creative: Feel like most of the time you’re on autopilot? Work, grocery store, gym, errands, pick up the kids (if you have kids), etc. That’s because we all are. So when you actually get a free minute to spare with your sweetheart, it can be hard to figure out what to do with it—besides a Netflix binge. But there are so many great events going on every week in the Jewish community, plus workshops from InterfaithFamily for couples and new parents. #ChooseLove by taking advantage of that precious free time in a more enriching way and learn something new together. Even if it’s just once in a while, you’ll be glad you got off the couch.
4. Take your time: Figuring out your religious identity as a couple or family takes time. You might want to feel like you have a plan for celebrating holidays and family gatherings that’s just right—from the get-go. Let yourself off the hook! Be OK with not being the perfect Passover host this year. Your what-went-wrongs will inform next year. And some unexpected moments worth repeating will almost certainly happen organically. As you see what works for you—hosting versus visiting, keeping the kids in school versus bringing them to a holiday observance, etc.—you’ll start to create your own traditions.
5. Let it go: I’m not saying you should avoid communication and let hurt feelings fester (especially about big issues), but this is about not “sweating the small stuff.” If your partner’s complaining about visiting your in-laws for Easter again, but you know she’s had a terrible, no good, very bad day, maybe let this one slide. Or if you’ve already made your opinion known that your grandmother has the best chicken soup recipe on the planet, and it would be a travesty not to serve it to your guests, put it in perspective: If it’s really important for your partner to connect with their grandma through an old passed-down recipe, perhaps it’s not worth ruining your holiday over soup. Often we expect a lot from our loved ones, but sometimes we lose sight of what’s worth getting worked up over. And more important: what’s not.
I just saw the play Marjorie Prime written by Jordan Harrison and directed by Kimberly Senior at Writer’s Theatre in Glencoe, IL. The premise of the play is that it’s the age of artificial intelligence, but 86-year-old Marjorie is worried that her memory may be fading. That is until the appearance of Walter, a mysterious and charming young visitor programmed to help Marjorie uncover the intricacies of her own past. As Walter’s true nature is revealed, new levels of complexity emerge, leading to profound questions about the limits of technology and whether memory might be a purely human invention. Walter is a Prime—a robot of sorts who can act like Siri times a million. He is sort of like a person and the lines between robot and human are blurred.
Certainly writers and thinkers from Kurt Vonnegut to present day Martine Rothblatt have been wondering about these same questions. I recently heard a report on NPR which details how cars are going to become “smarter and smarter.” In the years to come, our refrigerators will be able to sense when we need milk and that will alert the grocery delivery service to bring it over. The lines between thinking and computing will be hazy. Much of our lives will be able to be automated. Ordering food, house cleaning and driving cars could all be automatic. They will not involve us having to think, plan work or do.
So, where does this leave religion? Being a rabbi is one job that I don’t think can be automated. When I sit with a couple to talk about their families, how they were raised and what’s important to them, we need to see each other and sense each other. Emails, Facetime and following each other on Facebook definitely fills in gaps and builds rapport quicker than before these technologies were used. It helps me get to know couples and get a sense for their vibe and their style, but nothing replaces one-on-one time together.
Marking lifecycle moments from the promises and hopes two committed adults share in front of their family and friends to the arrival of a baby, to honoring someone’s life at the time of their death, or studying with someone and helping them to ritually announce that they want to identify and live as a Jew: These are times that we need to be in person. With that said, there have been dozens of times during these events when someone has set up an iPad with Skype so that an elderly grandparent or a friend far away can “be” there with us.
There is a power in gatherings. Joining your voice with others, knowing that those standing with you share something important is the precious part of community. Judaism is about the senses: it’s about holding, seeing, feeling, hearing, smelling and tasting. You can get an app for sounding the shofar or lighting a virtual menorah but there is nothing like seeing the flickering flame in a window with the dark night behind it. There is no other noise like the alarm of the ram’s horn during the long blast marking the end of an epic day of prayer.
So, while I cannot wait to see what phones, cars and refrigerators will be like in the next five or so years, I don’t think we’ll ever be able to replace the moments of humanity when we need one another to be close. I don’t think a Prime or any version of Siri will replace humans coming together to try to organize, mark, find meaning in and celebrate life…do you?