This booklet explains the history of Hanukkah, the symbolism and significance of lighting candles for eight nights, the blessings that accompany the lighting of the candles, the holiday's foods, the game of dreidels, and more!
We provide quality programs and services that meet the social, cultural, educational, and recreational needs of everyone in the community.
The JCC of Greater New Haven is part of your extended family, your home away from home - providing programs and services for all ages and stages in life.
Within our walls and through our programming, our members gather together to meet, play, learn, celebrate, and be part of the Community. Everyone, regardless of age or religious affiliation, is welcome.
Join in the fun at this PJ on the Town event to celebrate the New Year for Trees at the DuPage Children's Museum. Featuring a concert by Miss Aimee Leigh, environmentally friendly activities, and private use of the museum. Presented in partnership with Congregation Beth Shalom of Naperville and Congregation Etz Chaim of DuPage County.
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.
Originally written for Keshet’s blog. Keshet is a national grassroots organization that works for the full inclusion and equality of lesbian, gay, bisexual, and transgender Jews in all facets of Jewish life.
The High Holidays — Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur — can be the most synagogue-centric of the Jewish calendar year. They’re also among the most-well attended, even by those who may not otherwise go to synagogue.
Many interfaith couples and families, along with adults raised in interfaith homes, don’t feel welcome in Jewish organizations. And since many LGBTQ Jews feel excluded from Jewish communal organizations, it’s a double challenge for interfaith LGBTQ Jews. This might be one of the reasons LGBTQ Jews are more likely to interdate and intermarry than their straight peers. But it’s also a reason why our organizations must ensure that every member of the Jewish community is welcomed and included this holiday season — and all year long.
Here on four easy steps your organization can take right now.
Mention the “I” Word: when creating publicity materials for your Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur services, events, and programming. Don’t forget to explicitly invite “interfaith families,” and “LGBT families.” (InterfaithFamily’s studies have found that 72% of our users find it “important” that a synagogue say its programming is “for interfaith families” in marketing material.)
4. Don’t assume.
We all have different levels of Jewish knowledge and hurdles that match, so:
Translate all Hebrew/Yiddish language;
Avoid terms like “non-Jew” to describe a partner who isn’t Jewish (I can only speak for myself, but I do not identify as a “non-Christian”);
Provide easy access material (like our booklets), for visitors and others who might want a refresher; locate them near main doors as well as in low traffic areas.
There is a great deal of concern in the Jewish world about the degree to which interfaith families are engaged or disengaged in Jewish life and community. A headline of the New York Jewish Community Study of 2011, released in June 2012, was that interfaith families generally score low on that study’s index of Jewish engagement, while interfaith families who join synagogues or send their children to Jewish education score comparably to in-married families. Community studies like New York’s, and other available communal research, however, tell us precious little about what factors contribute to interfaith families joining Jewish organizations and expanding their connections to Judaism – or what they experience as barriers to that expanded connection.
Starting in December 2009, Interfaith Family’s annual December Holidays survey and Passover/Easter survey have asked precisely those questions. We’ve just published a report on the responses to those questions. Our surveys are not “scientific” or based on a random sample; the respondents are self-selected and some may have responded to more than one survey. But no one else is asking these questions, and our report sheds what is currently the most available light on these important issues: it summarizes and analyzes close to 700 responses from six consecutive surveys from respondents who were in interfaith relationships, were raising their children as Jews, and were members of a synagogue or Jewish organization.
Interfaith families are attracted, in order of importance, by explicit statements that interfaith families are welcome; inclusive policies on participation by interfaith families; invitations to learn about Judaism and, to a much lesser extent, invitations to convert; the presence of other interfaith families; programming and groups specifically for interfaith couples; and officiation by rabbis at weddings of interfaith couples. Read the full report for the data and many comments to our open-ended questions.
The policy implications of these findings are that Jewish communities that want to increase engagement by local interfaith families need to:
Ensure that local interfaith families receive explicit messages of welcome from the community and its organizations and leaders.
Ensure that there are some Jewish clergy in the community who will officiate at weddings of interfaith couples so that their experience with the Jewish community at that critical point in their lives will help them connect to Jewish life.
Offer programs and classes explicitly marketed as “for interfaith families,” and foster the formation of groups of interfaith couples and families in which they can explore and experience Jewish life together.
The 2011 Jewish Community Study of New York, released in June 2012, has important findings for all those interested in engaging interfaith families Jewishly.
The study confirms that there is a huge amount of intermarriage, and it is continuing. Between 2006 and 2011, one in three non-Orthodox Jews who married, married someone who was not Jewish (a 33% individual rate of intermarriage); 50% of the non-Orthodox couples formed were intermarried couples (a 50% couples rate of intermarriage) (135).1 Twelve percent of the children (age 0 to 17) in Jewish households — 50,000 children — are in intermarried households (183).
The study reports that 31% of the children of intermarried households are raised Jewish and 11% are raised “Jewish and something else,” while 13% have parents who are undecided and 46% are raised not Jewish (180-81).2 A goal of having more than 50% of intermarried parents raise their children Jewish is reachable — if the undecided parents and the parents raising their children Jewish and something else can be influenced towards more Jewish choices.
The tone of much of the study follows an approach consistently taken in the past by Steven M. Cohen, the study’s principal author, that lumps together all intermarried couples and then highlights their relatively low levels of Jewish engagement when compared to all in-married couples. The policy implications of this approach are that it is not worth making efforts to engage interfaith couples. A different approach, which compares those intermarried couples who are Jewishly engaged with in-married couples, highlights their relatively comparable levels of Jewish engagement; the policy implications of that approach, which is reflected to a degree in the study, are to make efforts to move more intermarried couples to Jewish engagement.
For example, the study reports that the children of intermarried households receive relatively little Jewish education — only 35% are sent to supplemental school; but of the 15% of intermarried households that are synagogue members, 90% send their children to supplemental school. The policy implication clearly is to try to influence intermarried households to become synagogue members — and the study does say, somewhat reluctantly, “Perhaps expanding congregation-based efforts to engage intermarried households is worth pursuing” (28).
For another example, of intermarried households that are raising their children exclusively Jewish, 54% score high or very high on the study’s index of Jewish engagement (182).3 The policy implication clearly is to try to influence intermarried households to raise their children as Jews — and the study does say that the fact that 13% of intermarried parents are undecided about how they are raising their children “suggest that communal efforts to engage intermarried couples should support efforts to raise Jewish children” (28).
For another example, the study reports that the intermarried are less engaged because they have fewer Jewish social connections, with 77% of those age 30-39 living fairly isolated from other Jews — but adds, “These patterns suggest one approach: connect the intermarried socially to other Jews” (162).
The study’s authors ask an important question: “To what extent has the Jewish community made progress in closing the engagement gap associated with intermarriage?” Comparing their findings to those of the 2002 community study, they conclude that the intermarried (again lumped all together) became more distant when compared to the in-married (140). Given the negligible communal efforts to engage interfaith families Jewishly since 2002, the lack of progress should not be a surprise.
The study reports that the vast majority of the intermarried say they do not feel uncomfortable attending most Jewish events and activities — only 14% feel uncomfortable, compared to 10% of the in-married (144). In an exchange with Shmuel Rosner, Cohen says, “If discomfort is not a major obstacle to Jewish engagement, then welcoming is not the solution.” Cohen seems to recognize, however, that there is a big difference between not feeling uncomfortable, and feeling truly invited to engage: “Rather than focusing all our energies on welcoming the intermarried, we ought to be focusing on engaging the intermarried, approaches that certainly include welcoming, but go to building relationships and offering opportunities to educate and participate.”
But a related finding exposes widespread negative attitudes about intermarriage that potentially result in disinviting, unwelcoming behavior: high percentages of parents say they would be upset if their adult child married someone not Jewish who did not convert. While 6% of intermarrieds and 12% of converts would be upset, 56% of non-Orthodox in-married Jews would be upset. Feeling that the fact of their relationship is a cause of upset in a community is a factor likely to discourage a couple from engaging with that community.
Sensing negative communal attitudes may explain why more intermarried households make charitable contributions exclusively to non-Jewish causes, and fewer give to Jewish causes (203-05) — and the study does suggest “experiment[ing] with new ways of connecting with those who seem the most disconnected from communal Jewish philanthropy — [including] intermarried households” (30).
The fact that people go where they feel welcomed is supported by another study finding, namely a significant shift of Conservative Jews to Reform, which clearly has been perceived as the more hospitable movement for the intermarried. Of all Jews raised Conservative, 29% now identify as Reform; of all now Reform, 31% were raised Conservative (124).
The study has a very helpful discussion of the current context of shifting identities. It highlights fluidity, with people freely choosing identities based on relationships; malleability, with identities changing over time; and hybridity, a confluence of multiple traditions that is the ethos in American society generally (111-12) .
One aspect of hybridity briefly mentioned in the study is that in 9 of 10 intermarried households, synagogue affiliated or not, Christmas is celebrated by a household member. The study states that “In about half, it is celebrated as a religious holiday” but provides no explanation of what that means. InterfaithFamily’s eight years of December holiday surveys have consistently reported, in contrast, that high majorities of interfaith families raising their children as Jews celebrate Christmas but not as a religious holiday.
The study may understate the amount and the Jewish engagement of what have commonly been thought of as intermarriages. Five percent of study respondents were people who had no Jewish parent and had not formally converted, but identified as “Jewish by personal choice.” A marriage between a Jew (by birth or formal conversion) and such a Jew by personal choice has up to know been thought of as an intermarriage, but the study appears to count such couples as “conversionary, in-married” — resulting in less intermarriage. Moreover, Jews by personal choice almost by definition would be more Jewishly engaged than non-Jews; if marriages involving Jews by personal choice were counted as intermarriages, that should mean more Jewish engagement by intermarried couples than this study, which treats those couples as in-married, reports.
The study frequently attributes cause and effect to intermarriage while being very cautious about doing so with any other issue. Thus the study concludes that intermarriage — as opposed to other factors such as what the partners bring to the marriage — “strongly influences” whether children are raised as Jews, the Jewish engagement level of the home, and the Jewish educational choices for their children (191). In contrast, for example, on the question whether having fewer Jewish acquaintances causes less engagement, the study says “Of course, the chicken and egg here are difficult to discern. Do people with many Jewish intimates acquire and sustain Jewish engagement, or do Jewishly engaged people form and sustain Jewish friendships and family relationships?”
Many of the study’s findings are organized around an index of Jewish engagement, based on twelve factors selected by the study’s authors (118), and the study frequently refers to intermarried households scoring low on that index — for example, 70% of the intermarried score low on the engagement index (142). The authors acknowledge, however, that indicators that can be undertaken individually or with friends and family, that don’t demand formal affiliation or collective action, are not included in their engagement index (119). As intermarried households are more involved with these indicators that are not included on the study’s index, their Jewish engagement is understated by the index.
I have lead three workshops recently for religious school teachers and the same frustration came up each time. Teachers wanted me to tell them what to say when a child said x, y, or z. I veer away from giving teachers a script (I provide broad guidelines to think about) because I think each situation is different. The way each child says what they say, who the child is, how old they are, how many times the class has talked about this, etc., has to be taken into account in order for the teacher to know how to respond. However, in this blog I am going to share what I would say to a main comment that I have frequently heard uttered by children of all ages in religious schools.
“I’m only half Jewish.”
As a teacher, I would ask back, “Why do you say that?”
The child may respond, “Because my mom/dad isn’t Jewish and I celebrate Christmas and so I am only half Jewish.” (They may add that they don’t believe in God or other reasons.)
I might ask, “Do you think your parents would describe you as half Jewish?”
If a child says “yes,” I may encourage them to talk with their parents about this. I would be sure to email or call the parents after class to let them know that their child spoke about this in class and that I was happy they felt comfortable sharing with me. I would let the parents know that I encouraged their child to talk with them about these labels of identity. I would also mention that the clergy and educators at the synagogue are open to talking with parents and families about Judaism in an interfaith family and that there are lots of resources and support available to them as they figure out how to speak to their children about religion and identity.
If the child answers “no,” that their parents wouldn’t use this expression, a teacher could ask how they think their parents would describe who the child is religiously. If the child answers that their parents would say they are Jewish, a teacher could explain that maybe their parents have hoped that Judaism would be the religion and way of life they most identify with, but that this doesn’t mean that the other religion in the family is ignored or pushed away. It is wonderful to explore and experience the way one parent was raised and the way some in the family practice. This doesn’t take away from being brought up Jewish.
I would tell the child that a main hope is that we all feel whole and that we feel secure in who we are. I would also tell children that Judaism and Christianity share so much. We share sacred texts, values, core biblical narratives, faith in God, and a desire to make the world a better place. There are many prayers within Christianity and many songs that have roots in Judaism. We both love holidays, rituals, and traditions. But, there are many parts of the religions that are different. It may be hard to really be both religions. You can experience aspects of both religions, learn about both religions, come to love parts of both religions, but you might end up practicing and adhering to one religion. Figuring out who we are is a lifelong pursuit. In religious school and then in high school and college, you can continue to learn about Judaism and may find so many aspects that add much to your life. That’s one reason you are all here. We are here to learn about an ancient religion that still applies to our experiences in the world today. The stories, history, culture, language, and ethics of Judaism – all these aspects and many more – can bring joy, purpose, order, connectedness, and meaning to how we live.
When children bring up issues of identity it can be tricky for the religious school teacher to know what to say, how much to say, what would support the family and the goals of the religious school program and the congregation’s denominational ideology (whether it is Reform or Conservative, for example). This is why I encourage educators to write guidelines such as this and to role play with teachers to help teachers know how to respond to the most commonly talked about issues from going to church, celebrating Christmas or Easter to having family that isn’t Jewish to not believing in God, not wanting to come to religious school/Hebrew school, wondering about Jesus and more.
If you are a religious school teacher, let me know if you could see this dialogue taking place in class and if this is helpful to thinking through how to respond before comments are made so that you are not caught off-guard.
As you may know, InterfaithFamily/Chicago is a 2-year funded initiative which began July 1, 2011. In the first year of the grant we offered an online/in-person class called Raising a Child with Judaism in Your Interfaith Family. The way the class works is that parents get login information to access the class on the computer. Each week of the class the material for a new session is added. You access the material on your own time during that week, read essays (or print them for later), hear/learn blessings, watch videos, get ideas for family activities, post in a journal, and more. Parents are able to interact with other through discussion boards. They have access to a facilitator so that they can ask questions about the material being learned. The facilitator responds to journal posts as well for a more individualized experience. In addition, two of the eight sessions include an in-person program for the whole family – a Friday night Shabbat dinner and experience, and a wrap-up and next steps send-off.
Each of the 8 lessons is about a major parenting situation and how Jewish teachings and traditions offer insights about how to make these times meaningful and spiritual. The class explores bedtime, food and eating rituals, marking time with meaning on a weekly and yearly basis, doing good deeds, loving learning, spirituality, and personal journeys. Every aspect of this class was created with modern interfaith families in mind.
A new session of Raising a Child with Judaism in Your Interfaith Family is beginning in October. It is ideal for families with preschool-3rd grade children. If you would like to join in this next session, go to interfaithfamily.com/raisingachildChicagoOct2012. InterfaithFamily/Chicago will cover the costs for anybody to participate.
The second program we offered in year one of our grant is a marriage workshop called Love and Religion – Online. The workshop took place over 4 Thursday evenings. The first night we take all of the couples to dinner in the city. This is a great chance for everybody to get to know each other in person and to talk about their recent or upcoming wedding. The next three Thursdays, for about an hour or so, we meet online. I facilitate the workshop along with a marriage counselor. We discuss how to create a meaningful religious and spiritual life as an interfaith couple and explore everything from communication in marriage to how to make major life decisions. We offered this workshop in February and May and begin a new session tonight, August 16, with 7 new couples. The next session of Love and Religion – Online will begin in October. It is not too late to join in. Sign up at interfaithfamily.com/loveandreligionChicagoOct2012.
In year 2 of our grant, we will be offering a new class, Preparing for Bar or Bat Mitzvah in Your Interfaith Family. This class is ideal for families with 4th-7th graders, whether you are members of a synagogue or not. Like the Raising a Child class, parents will receive login information to access this class on the computer at their own pace. Each week of the class the material for a new session will be added. There will be essays, ways for you to hear and learn blessings, watch videos, get ideas for family activities, post in a journal and more. You will be able to interact with other parents through discussion boards. You will have access to a facilitator so that you can ask questions as you go, and the facilitator will respond both to your journal posts and on the discussion boards. In addition, two of the eight sessions include an in-person program for the whole family – a Friday night Shabbat dinner and experience, and a wrap-up and next steps send-off.
Each of the eight sessions is about a major aspect of the bat/bar mitzvah ceremony and experience. We will explore the history of the bar/bat mitzvah ceremony, the meaning of Torah, putting the “mitzvah” back in the bat/bar mitzvah, Shabbat morning and evening worship, ritual policies in synagogues, the enduring Jewish values to hold dear, and how to explain this to family members and friends who are not Jewish.
We are beginning to build a community of people we have met through these classes and workshops. At the Joyfully Jewish Mitzvah event this past Sunday in Long Grove, I saw a family who took our Raising a Child class – it was great to reconnect! These classes and workshops are great ways to participate in learning and fellowship in convenient and realistic ways.
As we learn from our sacred text of rabbinic writings, Pirkei Avot (Sayings of the Fathers), “Say not: when I have leisure I will study, lest you may not have it!”
I read a post on the Reform Judaism blog with great interest, as, based on the title alone, Youth Engagement is Not The Curriculum – It’s THE Curriculum clearly jibes with my beliefs. The authors offer 12 tips to keeping youth engaged in/with Judaism through the end of high school. As too many youth end their education with their bar/bat mitzvah, this is a great model. However, I see concerns with point # 4. To quote:
Treat teens as young adult learners. If you are successful, they will learn the other topics that you think are important later in life; for now, try to ask (and answer) the question, “What do the kids want to learn?” Ours, for example, are interested in Jewish/Christian/Muslim issues and our popular yearly program titled “Choosing a College Jewishly.”
Basic Jewish literacy is not only the key to the Jewish community’s survival, but it fills one’s life with meaning, awe, purpose, joy, connectedness and so much more. Teens may take a Jewish studies class in college, but if synagogues have not prepared our most involved students to live Jewishly we have failed. Our students must be able to confidently walk into their colleges’ Hillel, participate in and even lead tefillah (prayers), and talk with facts and context about liberal Judaism. A basic knowledge of both conversational and liturgical Hebrew is essential.
I meet with many late 20-somethings who are getting married. Over and over I have seen the partner who is not Jewish asking their love what Judaism believes about life after death and the meaning of suffering, how we bring the messiah, what they believe about God, what meaning they find in the prayer book and the stories of the holidays, what the Jewish perspective is on Bible stories, and the Jewish partner is clueless. They immediately explain it away by identifying as a cultural Jew or by saying they’re more spiritual than religious. It is the partner who isn’t Jewish and remains curious that often pushes the Jew to learn about their own religion, traditions and faith; inevitably the Jewish partner talks about how they learned nothing in religious school or remembers nothing.
Our teens learn other languages, read great literature in high school, know about art, have opinions about current events, and yet are not exposed to the depth and complexity of their own religion. Why? We think learning about Judaism will be boring, will feel irrelevant!
It is wonderful if our teens go to Israel, enjoy Jewish summer camp and take part in social justice work. But if our teens are functionally illiterate about Judaism, none if it will have any deeper meaning or enduring value.
I recently spent an hour with college juniors, talking about how the Jewish community can respond to interfaith couples and families. There was resistance when I suggested that synagogue websites translate all Hebrew/Yiddish terms and any insider language so that anybody new to Judaism – a new member of a Jewish family or anyone Jewish who lacks this knowledge – can fully access the content, and its meaning, on the website. I have encountered similar resistance when suggesting religious school or preschool teachers take on this same practice when sending emails home or having students work on projects.
For instance, if a class makes a “hamotzi placemat” (a placemat that includes the blessing over bread), the prayer could be pasted to their placemat in Hebrew, English and transliteration so that any parent can use it with the child. I have wondered why there would be resistance to this simple idea for sensitivity and inclusion. The comments I have heard in opposition to this are that parents will think that nobody knows anything Jewish in this synagogue or that the message gets watered down or dumbed down if no Hebrew can be assumed to be known. Others have said that it is so easy in the age of Google to look something up that if there was real interest in learning the Hebrew or the term it could be easily ascertained. If we make things too easy for folks, they will not take the initiative to learn it themselves, which is empowering.
I have been caught off guard by these statements. I hadn’t thought there could possibly be resistance to making Judaism as accessible and meaningful as possible.
As I have tried to unpack this dilemma, here is the insight I have come up with: I think the idea that people who aren’t Jewish will require the Jewish community (members of a synagogue, religious school or preschool teachers, or Jewish family members) to offer translations and explanations, could, potentially point out the community’s own inadequacies or illiteracy with Hebrew and Jewish terminology and this feels threatening or unsettling.
I wonder how many of us could translate the name of our congregation into English or the names of most major holidays into English? This is in no way a critique of anybody with a lack of knowledge. Hebrew, even when translated directly into English, sometimes needs extra explanation and context. (“sukkot">Festival of Booths” comes to mind.)
Sometimes people who grew up Jewish just know or “get” something cultural while not being able to articulate it easily. Some Jewish people may want to remain in a tight-knit community in which there is a sacred language (even when not exactly understood, the individual still finds meaning). Being insular in some ways, set-apart and even having insider language feels authentic and means continuity for some. One would think that meaning leads to continuity but maybe Hebrew leads to continuity through connectedness to the past and particularism. Maybe one doesn’t have to understand everything to have meaning. And my asking people to translate everything demystifies it in some ways and makes the message too secular and mundane.
This has been an interesting conundrum for me to think about. I look forward to hearing your insights!
My 5-year-old daughter just started violin lessons. Her lessons use the Suzuki method; parents come to lessons and learn along with the child so that when then child practices at home, the parent can help. Parents are expected to take notes during lessons and often video pieces of the lesson to watch with their child at home for reinforcement. I have not only thoroughly enjoyed the uninterrupted time with my daughter, but I have loved the pursuit of gaining these skills with her – new skills with which neither of us has any familiarity. Hannah teaches me and reminds me just as much as I help her. When we practice at home, we laugh a lot, we concentrate a lot, we learn together and get better together.
It recently occurred to me that this concept of Teacher, Parent-Learner-Teacher and Child-Learner-Teacher could be a great model to bring into the religious school classroom. Family education has become normative and popular in most synagogue congregations. Parents spend time in the classroom and engage in projects with the child. But what if family education meant that the parent and child were as engaged and highly focused on mastering the skills, on learning the techniques, on understanding the rhythm as they are in these violin lessons? What if parents prized the possibility of their child learning how to do Jewishly: how to perform rituals and traditions, how to read and speak Hebrew, how to study Torah and how to live based on mitzvot (commandments)? What if parents took notes in the religious school classroom, and all were silent, mouths gaped open in awe, as the teacher hummed a niggun (wordless melody), offered an appropriate blessing or translated a portion of Torah? What if the teacher gave homework that the parent and child had to do together and gave stickers when the parent-child team brought back their weekly homework chart filled in?
In some ways, many families have outsourced their child’s Jewish education to the synagogue school. Just as there is no way violin or a foreign language can really be learned unless it is practiced at home, there is no way Judaism can be learned unless it is practiced at home. I think that for interfaith families in particular, in which one parent did not grow up with Jewish knowledge and traditions, it would be even more powerful to gain these insights with their child. And, for a parent who grew up Jewish and has a deep level of knowledge, they can learn from the teacher how to teach and transmit that knowledge to their child. There is a parent in our Suzuki class who teaches flute. She knows music. She doesn’t know the violin. She is learning with all the other parents who don’t have her musical background. For a parent who grew up Jewish and needs a refresher, what better way than with your child?
I am looking forward to hearing your thoughts about how this could translate to the religious school classroom. Could you imagine making the commitment to learn with your child each week and then practicing at home? If you believe Judaism provides the framework for structuring a life of meaning, joy, order and purpose, it would seem to be worth the time and effort!
[table][tr][td][/td][td] Developed by a psychologist who specializes in marriage counseling, Love and Religion is offered throughout the country, usually housed in Jewish community centers. If you are not in Chicago and you or someone you know would like to take part in a Love and Religion workshop, it is highly possible a JCC near you is or could offer it. Just [firstname.lastname@example.org]email Dr. Marion Usher[/email], the creator of the program, [/td][/tr][/table]to ask her where and when it is being offered. In Chicago we have already offered the workshop twice and we have two more sessions coming up in August and October.
This program is only four sessions long. It is meant for interfaith couples (where one partner is Jewish and the other partner is not (whether or not they practice another religion) or is new to Judaism) who are engaged or were married within the last couple of years. The first night we meet, we treat all of the couples to dinner in the city so that we can get to know each other. The next 3 sessions take place from the comfort of your own home: couples use WebEx’s video conferencing on their computers or smart phones. So, for four Thursdays you devote an hour to thinking about your relationship, about religion and spirituality, and about which traditions you find important and want to establish in your home.
The couples participating in the past two sessions have felt that their understanding of their partner (and other couples) increased through this sharing process. They nodded their heads as each one told of the feelings they had for their partner when they met; they shared so much camaraderie around coming from two different religions. For many couples, the fact that they are two different religions is not a big deal; neither family expressed concerned about this. In lots of cases, either or both partners grew up with family members of different religions and celebrated all of the holidays with joy and cheer. The specifics of theological or cultural differences seem minimal in comparison to the sense that they have found their soul mate. This workshop does not create issues where there are none. It does help couples come to articulate aspects of what’s important to them religiously that maybe they hadn’t yet thought about. And, of course, couples makes decisions about a whole host of major life issues over time and with change. This workshop helps set a foundation for making those decisions together as they arise.
The hardest part about offering this workshop is finding interfaith couples who are engaged or recently married. The workshop is normally just $36 per couple, but mention this blog post and it’s free! Please share this blog post with anybody you know who lives in Chicagoland if you think they would get something out of having an experience like this. Whether a couple is getting married by a rabbi, a rabbi and clergy from another religion, only clergy from another religion, a Judge or by a friend; whether the couple is getting married for the first time or whether one or both has been previously married; whether the couple is LGBTQ or straight; everybody should know that this is open to them. At InterfaithFamily/Chicago our goal is to reach interfaith couples with programs in which they can strengthen relationships, find ways to connect with Judaism and with the Jewish community, and to understand more about the role Judaism can play in an interfaith relationship, in ways that will feel natural, comfortable, accessible and meaningful to both partners.
Originally published on the Jewish Women's Archive blog, Jewesses With Attitude. Cross-posted with permission.
In a blog post last week, Gabrielle Orcha asked, "What about the Jewish father? … Who is he really?"
[table][tr][td][/td][td]With Father's Day coming up this weekend, we wanted to start a dialogue about the Jewish fathers, or fathers (who may or may not be Jewish) of Jewish daughters. We put out a call for Jewish daughters to tell us about their fathers. We'd also like to thank the folks at Kveller.com, who took up the call and helped collect these stories.[/td][/tr][/table]
As you will see from the stories below, we learned that our fathers are Jewish and non-Jewish, religious and non-religious. However, one thing stands out in our stories: Fathers are involved and invested in the lives of their Jewish daughters as teachers, advocates, entertainers, and role models. Considering the legacy of Jewish women — their accomplishments and contributions recognized on jwa.org — we think they're doing a pretty good job.
You'll meet 12 fathers in this post. If you'd like to add a story about your father, please do so in the comments. We look forward to reading what you have to say.
My Episcopalian dad proposed to my Jewish mom on their very first date over Irish Coffee and she laughed at him. But, my dad had charm, and she agreed to go out with him again. And again. And again. And over the next eight years when he'd ask her to marry him night after night, she would shake her head and laugh. But then, one night, while stuck in traffic on the 405 Freeway near the Wilshire Exit, she said "Yes." But with one condition: They would have a Jewish home." And my dad agreed. Every Friday night, we lit candles for Shabbat. He went to Torah class with our rabbi. We kept Kosher. And my dad's love for my mom allowed me to grow up in a home where I grew up loving Judaism. -Sarah Tuttle-Singer
“What do you think is the nature of reality?” I gazed down at my untied shoelace, my skinned knee, the grass poking out of the sidewalk. “I dunno,” I shrugged. “What is it?” “There is no right answer,” my father said, his corrective shoes keeping time with my own. “But it’s our job to keep asking the question anyway.” My Daddy knows a lot, but that did not make sense. Questions should have right answers like in arithmetic.
What l did know was it was summertime. I was seven. I had 27 freckles and two little sisters and Mommy was wearing the blue shirt again that meant another sister was coming. And after supper Daddy asked just me to take a walk. In the soft Ohio dusk I was initiated into the Big Thinkers Club. That fundamentally unanswerable “nature of reality” question, one that would eventually be posed to each of his five small daughters, gifted us with the chutzpah to shake our small fists at the limits of human knowing in a deeply Jewish way. It was, more than anything else, our father’s sweetest gift. -Deborah Fineblum Raub
My father turned 90 in February. Every day and year are special because he is a part of our lives. My mother died when I was five years old, so dad was both mom and dad to my brother and me. Growing up, and when he had grandchildren, he was more of a kid than any of us, challenging us to enjoy skiing, sledding, hiking — everything with him and making it just fun! He is going to meet his newest great grandchild, my granddaughter Orly, next weekend and his excitement to meet and influence yet another child in the family comes through in his voice every time we are on the phone. Happy Father's Day, Dad. You are one in a million. -Susan Raskin
My Jewish identity became official on Dec. 21, 2009, with my mikveh – and three years after I lost my Catholic father to Lou Gehrig’s disease. My Dad loved my Jewish boyfriend the minute he met him (thanks, baseball!) and his support of our relationship never waivered. I see his proud face at our wedding, our son’s bris, our daughter’s baby naming. He did worry about our children not having “Santa,” but that didn’t last once he saw how much joy Judaism brought to our lives. I used to think I would never convert, but after I lost my Dad to a terrible disease, I knew I was ready. I had begun the journey and didn’t know it. He gave me a foundation of faith as a child, and a foundation of support for the path I chose for my family. -Michelle Breier
My dad is my rav. While he is not a rabbi, he is the one who opened my heart to the beauty of Torah. I remember participating in minyan as a 10 year old, looking up at my father beaming with pride. It is because of my father that I am now going to become a rabbi. My dad’s passion for learning and living Judaism permeated my childhood experiences. My parents moved us to Israel, heightening our awareness of what it meant to be part of Am Yisrael. Years have passed, but our relationship grows tighter as we bond over our shared love: the love of our tradition. My dad introduced me to what it meant to be a committed, dedicated, and loving Jewish person. He is generous, kind, and smart. As I become a rabbi this year, the ten-year-old inside will look up and smile. Thank you Dad, for instilling in me the love of tradition, Judaism, and Israel. I love you. -Dani Gobuty Eskow
My father has always been a great father. Involved, loving, interfering when my mother has been impossible with me and my sister. Insisting in the 60's that I be allowed to go march in the Vietnam Moratoriums, insisting I travel in Europe with my boyfriend after high school because it would broaden my world view. Sticking up for my sister and me when my mother is being critical. My father was a wonderful son and son-in-law, a loving brother, uncle, and friend. He talks to everyone, cab drivers and scholars alike. He reads news constantly and listens before he states his opinion. I am blessed to have the father I do. And my uncles and grandfather were also loving gentle Jewish men. -Marci Mitler
One night when my father was about ten years old, he came downstairs looking for his mother. He paused at the top of the cellar steps. In the basement, he saw his parents and his maternal grandfather savoring a local delicacy — Chesapeake Bay oysters. In later years, my father would say that this night in 1933 marked the end of any real feeling he had for Judaism. He loved and respected his grandfather, a successful self-made businessman who was a pillar of the shul where my father would be bar mitzvahed and confirmed. But even as a ten-year-old, he knew hypocrisy when he saw it.
Still, my father never failed to make a generous contribution to the Associated Jewish Charities every year; he was famous for his skill at telling Jewish jokes, and without ever using the words, he instilled a strong sense of tikkun olam in his sons (two) and daughters (two). Did he make the connection between the importance he placed on service to the community — a value he both lived and passed on — and his Jewish heritage? I wish I had asked him. -Ellen K. Rothman
My father came from a large, Jewish family of extremely humble origins who lived in Kalisz, Poland. He quit school at the age of eight in order to help keep his family alive. He sold candy to street people, worked in a coal mine, repaired bicycles, worked as a fur piecer and madebatteries for cars. Eventually he became one of the top Schiffli embroidery manufacturers in northern New Jersey. He loved to work with his hands and worked to make things better for his wife and family.
Ten years ago, at the age of 76, he told me that if he died tomorrow he would die a happy man. He loved his life … every minute of it. He could ride a unicycle, crack a walnut with his bare hands, and extinguish a candle with his fingers and and some spit. He enjoyed golfing, swimming, taking long walks on the beach, and watching nature documentaries (the bane of my mother's existence "Ugh, disgusting…I'm going upstairs"). He loved the mountains, the ocean, not to mention his wife, family, and friends. Max Smulen was a simple, beautiful, unpretentious, and humble man who took whatever card life dealt him. Luckily he was dealt a Royal Flush. -Terry Ann Smulen
My dad is the son of Holocaust survivors, and for him, that is the basis of what it means to be Jewish. Growing up, my mom was the one who took us to shul. "Why doesn't Dad have to go?" we would whine. When I asked my dad if he believed in God, he would only repeat what his own parents told him: "If there is a God, I'd give him a zetz." But for him Judaism wasn't about belief. It was about family and community. It was about tradition and learning. It was about bagels and lox. I think I've always been an atheist, but thanks to my dad's strong Jewish identity, it never felt like a contradiction to be atheist and Jewish, and I am extremely grateful for this.
In recent years, my dad has gotten more and more involved with our synagogue. He still doesn't attend services except on the High Holidays, but these days he takes adult ed classes, attends lectures, and soaks up everything he can about Judaism, Jewish history, and Torah. I'm inspired by his Jewish journey, which reminds me daily that belief is not a prerequisite for engagement with Jewish life. -Leah Berkenwald
My father chose my name, and that cemented my connection to Judaism. He named me after his mother, Pruva, who died in Auschwitz. The “American” version of my name is Preeva, and it is on my birth certificate. Daddy took to me shul on Friday nights, and we came early so he could talk to his friends and show me off a little: He would say: “Preeva, explain your name.” And I would straighten my dress, and recite: “When God created man, on the sixth day he said to him, Pru U'Rvu Ee melu et ha'aretz, be fruitful and multiply and develop the earth. From that comes Pruva, which we pronounce here in America, Preeva.” He set an example for me by putting on t’fillin every morning before work, even when he worked on Saturday. He also took me to the Wailing Wall in 1968 and blessed me there. Unfortunately, he died when I was 16, but I turned out well. I was just named president of Etz Chayim, an independent liberal synagogue in Palo Alto, and I am working on a book about the facts of his life. -Preeva Tramiel
My Jewish father is the one who has always taught me how to use his tools — many of which he has gifted to me, how to fix things, and how to make homemade horseradish. I know he is preparing me for the day when he is no longer with me and I love him for this. At age 91, his life is a blessing to me and I am grateful for every bit of wisdom he imparts to me, his oldest daughter. -Sue Kelman
My zaidy was a Holocaust survivor. After coming to America, he rebuilt the life he had lost. On a literal level, he was a carpenter, so he built storefronts for a living. My zaidy worked hard to support his family, waking up at 5:30 a.m. in order to pray and get to the shop on time. He instilled Jewish values in his two daughters, taking them with him to synagogue every Shabbat and holiday and putting them both through Jewish day schools. Although I was not privileged to meet my zaidy, I was given the honor of being named after him. His Hebrew name was Naftali. In Kabbalah, the name Naftali is read as nafat li, which means “sweetness is to me.” Although I can’t imagine my traditional European zaidy would wholeheartedly approve of my Jewish feminist sensibilities, I certainly hope that he is proud of me, his namesake. -Talia Weisberg
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