This colorful booklet lists all the ritual items needed for the Passover table. The history and significance of each item on the seder plate is explained, as are the customs that have been handed down through the generations.
JScreen provides convenient, at-home, saliva-based genetic carrier screening with the goal of preventing Jewish genetic diseases such as Tay-Sachs disease and Canavan disease. JScreen is a national program and is headquartered at Emory University in Atlanta.
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.
Leading up to and during my vacation there have been three big intermarriage stories in the media. They all revolve around whether, and how, Jewish communities are going to open their gates and draw in interfaith couples and families.
First came a JTA story by Uriel Heilman, The War Against Intermarriage Has Been Lost. Now What? The title pretty much tells the content of the article: Jewish institutions and in particular religious denominations are not âfighting against intermarriageâ so much any more; the question now is how to react to the intermarriages that are going to happen; the overall strategy appears to be to engage with the intermarried in an effort to have them embrace Judaism; the denominations differ in how far to go in that embrace, and how strongly to push for conversion. Heilman says there has been a shift in attitudes so that intermarriage is viewed as âa potential gain, in the form of the non-Jewish spouse or children who may convert.â
I’m not sure how widespread the shift in attitudes is â there have been lots of recent anti-intermarriage comments from Jewish leaders â and I think itâs unfortunate to see gain only when there is conversion. But the real issue is, what are Jewish institutions and denominations going to do to engage with the intermarried. I would be more interested in seeing a JTA article on the efforts that are underway to do exactly that.
Second was a series of three essays on MyJewishLearning.com about patrilineal descent. A Conservative rabbi, Alana Suskin, in The Non-Jewish Rabbi? The Problem of Patrilineal Descent, tells how badly she feels about not recognizing patrilineal Jews as Jewish in large part because itâs easy to convert. Then an Orthodox rabbi, Ben Greenberg, in Patrilineal Jewish Descent: An Open Orthodox Approach, also feels badly, and says that a child of Jewish patrilineal lineage, must be respected greatly for their identification with the Jewish people, their love of Judaism and of IsraelâŠ people of patrilineal descent [should] be referred to as Jews who need to rectify their status vis-a-vie Jewish law.â But Greenberg says that the Reform rabbisâ decision on patrilineality was a mistake from a âbalcony perspectiveâ because of the impact the decision had on recognition of people as Jews by other denominations.
I would say, from what I would respectfully suggest is perhaps a more important âbalcony perspective,â what about the impact the decision had on the thousands of patrilineal Jews who are now engaged in Jewish life and community? I couldnât help but make this connection when reading the Forwardâs profile of Angela Buchdahl, First Asian-American Rabbi, Vies for Role at Central Synagogue. Rabbi Buchdahl is an amazing Jewish leader â and yes, a patrilineal Jew. (At least, that is, until her college years; we proudly reprinted Rabbi Buchdahlâs essay originally in Shâma, My Personal Story: Kimchee on the Seder Plate, where she says she went to the mikveh at that time to âreaffirm her Jewish legacy.â)
[T]his is a red herring. The truth is that such questioning exists along a continuum that exists even within movements. Within the Orthodox branches of Judaism, only certain rabbis are recognized by the Orthodox rabbinate in Israel as performing accepted conversions. So yes, I agree with my colleagues that we have a responsibility to make our converts and our patrilineal Jews aware of the larger context, although I admit to doing so apologetically because I donât find these explanations to make Judaism very appealing.
Rabbi Gurevitz then focuses on what I would agree is most important:
[T]he individuals whose lives and identities we are talking about. Hereâs the bottom line. The reality is that if someone is observing Jewish practice, celebrating in Jewish time, identifying with the Jewish people, or perhaps doing none of these things but, when asked, makes a claim to be Jewish or âpart Jewishâ because of their ancestry, it is largely irrelevant to them whether you or I agree or approve. When it does become relevant is when they seek access to our institutions, and especially our synagogues. At that point, we rabbis become the gatekeepers. And we are entitled to abide by whatever formulation of what makes a Jew that we, or our larger denominations, decide. We all have our requirements. And we all have good reasons for those requirements that we can articulate to those seeking entry. But let us recognize that what we are doing is gate-keeping, and let us be mindful of how and when we act as gatekeepers and what our purpose in those moments is. And let us celebrate and be proud of sustaining and sharing a religious heritage that others wish to claim as their own and live by.
The third major story was an excerpt of a âlive discussionâ on interfaith marriage on Huffington Post, where Rabbi David Wolpe, widely-regarded as one of the most influential rabbis in America, explains why he wonât officiate at weddings of interfaith couples. Contrary to Uriel Heilmanâs perceived shift in attitudes towards seeing intermarriage as a potential gain, Rabbi Wolpe actually says (I donât have a transcript but I made notes when listening to the video) that âinvariably,â in an intermarriage, the chances that the children will be raised as Jewish are much less, and that intermarriage âalmost alwaysâ results in a diminishment of Judaism. That is the first reason he gives for not officiating at weddings of interfaith couples. I would respectfully suggest that the chances of the children being raised as Jewish and the chances of the intermarriage not resulting in âdiminishmentâ would be increased if interfaith couples could find officiating rabbis for their weddings and be spared from hearing Rabbi Wolpeâs rationale.
Rabbi Wolpe also says that he doesnât officiate because a Jewish wedding involves a marriage according to Jewish law and a person who isnât Jewish isnât subject to Jewish law. I canât argue with any rabbi who takes that position, although I think he goes too far when suggesting that itâs âbad faithâ for a rabbi to officiate because he or she isnât representing Jewish tradition. He says that is true âat least for meâ but it comes across as a cheap shot at all of the serious committed rabbis who do officiate for interfaith couples
The common thread of all of this press is, how open are our gates going to be â in our efforts to engage interfaith couples and families, in who we recognize as Jews, and in for whom we officiate. Those are the key questions. Iâm for wide open gates.
I recently had the honor of meeting five women who are due with their first babies in the fall (one brought her four week old). While none of them grew up Jewish, they are married to Jews and they want to create a home with Judaism (traditions, holidays, values) for their growing families. They all felt that their spouses did not have the literacy or resolve to accomplish this goal alone. They are seeking fellowship among other women in the same boat, and they are eager for their own Jewish learning and for ways into Jewish communal life.
Sitting with these women reminded me of a core truth of the work we do: Intermarriage is not the end of Judaism. Intermarriage does not mean the Jew is abandoning Judaism. Partners who arenât Jewish are often open and ready to take on aspects of Jewish living, even though the learning curve is often so darn steep.
One of the moms-to-be said that they are ready to join a synagogue but that she âheardâ the membership dues were $3,000. Someone else chimed in that there must be a lower rate for a new family or first time members. The first mom seemed hesitant to call the synagogue to find out.
On the High Holidays, synagogues will be filled with non-members. This is not a great term. InterfaithFamily suggests trying to avoid ânonâ in any kind of description about someone. We advocate saying ânot Jewishâ verses ânon-Jew.â The people who are not dues paying members may be friends and family of members or they may have no connection to the congregation other than they bought a ticket. How can we tell all of these people that they already âbelong?â
One idea is to have members say aloud the following words and to write them on literature that is handed out and on the homepage of every synagogue website: If you are interested in learning more about this open and warm community, please call (give the name and title of the membership person with his or her direct line and email). It is helpful to have a real person to call rather than have to search a website for membership information which is anonymous. We want our words to reflect a sentiment of welcome. If I were writing something, I would say:
If you are on this website looking for information about a place to come for Shabbat, to celebrate holidays, for classes and religious school, to meet friends or to do social justice work, join us. If you want to build a relationship with clergy who care about you, join us. Joining us isnât about writing a check. It is about showing up when you want inspiration and fellowship, support and grounding. Whether you grew up with Judaism or not, whether you want introductory classes or higher level learning, whether you can read Hebrew or have never been to a synagogue, join us. We are a diverse group and this gives us strength and purpose. All are welcome. You can help support our congregational efforts at every level and means of giving.
I know there are lots of people studying new dues structures. This is not about a dues structure–fee for service, voluntary donations, etc. This is about the feeling of what it means to be a âmember.â
Each of these five women and the new faces in synagogues over the next few weeks will make great synagogue members.
Finkelman says that liberal American Jewry has a lot to gain from embracing LGBT married Jews, but that embracing intermarried Jews is an âuphill climbâ that will âdepend on a huge investmentâ that he clearly thinks is not worth making.
This analysis is misguided on many levels, but what immediately comes to mind is the very small numbers of people who would be impacted by embracing LGBT married Jews. Please donât get me wrong, Iâm all in favor of including LGBT Jews â and their partners â in Jewish life and community. But it is well known (perhaps not to Finkelman) that the rate of interfaith relationships is much higher among LGBT Jews than among straight Jews. The 2011 New York community study, for example, found (at 249) that while 22% of married Jews there were intermarried, 44% of LGBT married Jews were intermarried.
These wedge-driving arguments are really troublesome; many lay Jews are already upset with rabbis who will not officiate for interfaith couples but will officiate for LGBT couples if both partners are Jewish. I canât imagine that advocates of Jewish LGBT inclusion would agree with Finkelmanâs analysis and encourage more attention to the LGBT community at the expense of efforts to engage the intermarried. There has to be room in our communal efforts to do both.
Now, I have never met Adam Levine or Behati Prinsloo, and I donât know much about either of them. But I do know that all too often when interfaith couples get engaged I hear conversations like the one I quoted above between the mother and her sonâconversations disparaging the couple and their relationship.
I think that if we in the Jewish community continue to speak like thatâto insult people who marry out of the faith by using derogatory terms and referring to their marriage as a sinâthen itâs unlikely that they will want to become part of the Jewish community and to raise children that they may have as Jews. Like the Jewish Journal, I would rather wish these couples well. Rather than treating interfaith marriage as a threat, isnât it better to treat it as an opportunity for the Jewish people to grow, evolve and thrive?
Would I like to see Adam Levine and every other Jewish man out there marry a Jewish woman? Sure I would. But thatâs not always the way things work. And the fact is that Adam Levine didnât ask me who he should marryânor have any of the Jewish men at whose interfaith wedding ceremonies I have officiated. Instead, theyâve come to me already in love, asking me to officiate at their wedding ceremoniesâasking me, in essence, to accept their choices and to be welcoming toward the women with whom they have fallen in love and chosen to spend the rest of their lives. Iâm honored to be approached by these couples, and I embrace the opportunity not just to bless their unions but also to teach them about Judaism and to serve as a welcoming representative of the Jewish religion and the Jewish people.
I hope that the two of you will have honest conversations about the role religion plays in your lives, even if it isnât always easy. And if you have children, I hope that you will seriously explore the option of raising them as Jews. For now, know that we here at InterfaithFamily, and many people in the Jewish community, are happy for you and we would love to welcome both of you into our midst.
*The terms shiksa (woman who is not Jewish) and goyim (people who are not Jewish) are sometimes, as in the case of this conversation, used by Jews in a pejorative manner.
** After I came home and Googled Adam Levine, I learned that his father and maternal grandfather were Jewish and he considers himself Jewish, but his mother is not Jewish. This means that according to traditional Jewish law, which requires that the mother be Jewish in order for the child to be Jewish, Adam isnât Jewish. So while I, as a Reform Jew, accept the idea of patrilineal descent and I recognize him as Jewish, ironically, the woman having the conversation with her son would not even consider Adam to be Jewish if she were aware of his lineage.
When I was asked to take the role of Board Chair for InterfaithFamily, the business executive in me weighed costs, benefits, risks and rewards. Ultimately, however, I gladly accepted, knowing that the work of InterfaithFamily is well worth an investment of time, energy and resources.
Iâve known the InterfaithFamily organization almost from its inception, first as a user of its resources, later on its Advisory Board, and most recently, as a Board member and Treasurer. Iâve long felt that Ed Case and the IFF management team are incredibly nimble, creative and committed. The team has a relentless focus on getting things done and an aggressive plan to broaden and deepen InterfaithFamilyâs impact.
InterfaithFamily and its Board are deeply indebted to our immediate past Board Chair, Mamie Kanfer Stewart. Her five years of leadership have been a period of incredible growth, increasing organizational maturity and continued innovation. Mamie has always impressed me with her strategic thinking, her insightful approach and personal warmth.Â Working with the Board and IFFâs management, she recently led us in developing a robust strategic plan that provides a clear road map for IFFâs future. I am conscious that she leaves a well-run organization, and very big shoes to fill.
After reflection, however, I realized that my investment in IFF is more personal.Â I remember too well the teary times when my Jewish husband and I used to struggle to reconcile our personal goals and objectives in a way that honored our traditions and faiths.Â When we married, I was not willing to convert to Judaism, but I was willing to learn, to study and to support my husband’s observance.
Now, I am helping our twins grow from bris and baby naming to b’nai mitzvah (this coming spring!) and hopefully, Jewish adulthood. Over time, my family and I have become fully engaged in our local synagogue community. I still have so much to learn, but I think our family is a joy and a “net positive” for the Jewish community.
Intermarriage is a reality in the Jewish world, affecting every community, and extending beyond federation, denomination or geographic boundaries. In the same way, IFF is reaching across boundaries to help interfaith families more fully engage in exploration of Judaism.
For me, the investment proposition is clear: I want all families like mine to have the resources, support and welcome that were such a help to mine. Each family walks its own path, and I am glad that IFF inspires families to greater engagement with Judaism and the Jewish community from wherever they start. It is work of immense value, and as its new Board Chair, I am pleased to have a chance to play a greater part.
Kudos to Paul Golin, associate executive director of the Jewish Outreach Institute, for a powerful contribution to the debate over ordaining intermarried rabbis: What Intermarried Rabbis Can Teach Us. Building on Rabbi Ellen Lippmanâs inter-partnered rabbiâs perspective, that weâve blogged about before, Paul adds his own very important perspective:
Rabbis with nontraditional families like my own make me feel more included. Conveying why Judaism is still relevant to them provides me with access I wouldnât feel elsewhere. The focus is not on how you come in, but what you get out of doing Jewish â in other words, why itâs so amazing.
Definitely worth reading — and considering by those deciding the issue.
Recently, a good of friend of mine suggested to an interfaith couple who was looking for a rabbi for their wedding ceremony that they be in touch with me. I met with the couple for about an hour and we had a great conversation, at the end of which they asked me to officiate at their wedding. I told them that Iâd be honored, and over the next year we would get together several more times so that I could get to know them as individuals and as a couple before standing with them under their chuppah(wedding canopy) next July to unite them in marriage.
For the past ten years, since leaving my position as assistant rabbi at a large synagogue in order to spend more time with my family, I have officiated privately at life-cycle events â what some would refer to as a ârent-a-rabbi.â Iâve continued to do so over the past five years even as Iâve worked part-time at a small congregation. (My congregation, which I absolutely love, is made up mostly of members in their 70s and 80s, so it would not be an ideal âfitâ for many of the young couples and families with whom Iâve worked privately. Plus, many of them do not live near the synagogue.)
The fact is that Iâve gotten to know the wedding couples Iâve worked with who are not congregants of mine just as well as I knew couples who were congregants that I married; and Iâve gotten to know the parents and siblings of the babies that Iâve named just as well as I knew the parents and siblings of babies that I named in my congregation. And whereas when I served over ten years ago as a congregational rabbi at a synagogue in which there were as many as a hundred Bânai Mitzvah each year, now that I only work with a handful of Bânai Mitzvah students a year I get to know them MUCH better than I ever could as a rabbi at a large congregation. When I work privately with Bânai Mitzvah students, I meet with them on a regular basis so that by the time of the Bar or Bat Mitzvah I know the student â and usually the parents and any siblings â very well.
This serves in contrast to when I was at a large synagogue and I was only scheduled to have two or three half-hour sessions with each Bânai Mitzvah student. At the congregation (which was often referred to as a âBar Mitzvah mill,â another term I dislike), if the Bar or Bat Mitzvah student and his/her family were not âregularsâ at Shabbat services or other synagogue activities, I did not know them nearly as well as I know the students with whom I now work privately.
Just because many of the wedding couples, baby naming parents and Bânai Mitzvah students that I have worked with over the past decade do not belong to the congregation that I serve, their life-cycle events are no less important, meaningful and sacred to me as a rabbi â or to them. And I am certain that this is true of the vast majority of my colleagues who privately officiate at lifecycle events. Yes, we charge a fee for what we do, since we do not receive a salary to be available for these services as full-time congregational rabbis do. But just because we are paid directly for our services does not make the experience any less meaningful for anyone involved.
Over the years I have paid doctors, therapists, yoga teachers and a vast array of others for their services. They have almost without exception been caring and committed to helping and healing, often getting to know me on a deeply personal level â yet there is no doubt that they are entitled to compensation for their work.
I have heard people claim that when rabbis officiate privately at lifecycle events this makes it easier for people not to join congregations. Personally, I would love it if every Jewish person and family (whether every member is Jewish or the family is interfaith) would join a synagogue, but that is simply not the reality in which we live, and it is not the fault of so-called ârent-a-rabbis.â The fact is that in this day and age congregational life just isnât for everyone â at least not at every moment of their lives.
There are a multitude of reasons why people donât join synagogues, ranging from financial reasons (while the vast majority of synagogues will âwork withâ potential congregants to make membership financially feasible, this sometimes requires submitting tax returns and other personal information, which many people are not comfortable doing) to not feeling welcome to the fact that they simply are not interested. I cannot imagine that that the availability of non-congregational rabbis to officiate at their lifecycle events has very much to do with their decision not to affiliate.
When a wedding couple comes to me â either because a congregational rabbi with whom one of them is connected (usually his or her parents are members of the congregation) will not marry them because their partner is not Jewish or because they are not connected to a congregation â I strongly believe that the best thing I can do to increase the odds that they will become more involved in the Jewish community, and hopefully join a synagogue at some point, is to work with them and make them feel welcome. After all, they have many options besides going to a rabbi (such as hiring a celebrant or a justice of the peace) and by working with them I have the opportunity to expose them to the beauty of Judaism.
I feel the same way about the baby naming and Bânai Mitzvah families that come to me. I would much rather work with them and enable the parents of the baby or the Bar or Bat Mitzvah student to have a positive, meaningful experience than to turn them away. And when I am approached about officiating at the funeral of a Jewish person who was not affiliated with a congregation, I feel privileged to be able to help his or her family to mourn the deceased according to Jewish tradition and to bring honor to his or her memory through Jewish ritual. Is this really something to be looked down upon?
Ironically, when congregational rabbis officiate â for compensation â at lifecycle events for non-congregants (some rabbisâ contracts with their synagogues allow for them to do this, while others do not) they are rarely referred to as ârent-a-rabbis.â I think that the fact that I serve as a part-time congregational rabbi is another reason why the friend I mentioned at the beginning of this blog, the one who had referred a wedding couple to me, did not view me as one of the ârent-a-rabbisâ that she disparaged. But the reality is that congregational rabbis officiating for non-congregants who do not join their synagogues is really no different than non-congregational rabbis officiating.
There are many fantastic rabbis who do not work in congregations, perhaps because they work at other jobs within or outside of the Jewish community or perhaps because they currently are not employed, either by choice or by circumstance. Just because they earn money by officiating privately at life-cycle events does not mean that they are not talented, committed and sincere. So please, donât call them ârent-a-rabbis.â Just call them ârabbis.â
What has your experience been? If you are married, were you married by the rabbi or cantor of a congregation to which you and/or your partner belonged, or the rabbi or cantor of a congregation in which one of you grew up?
Were you married by a rabbi or cantor (as a sole officiant or co-officiant) that you found outside of a synagogue setting? If so, how did you find this rabbi or cantor? And what was your experience with him or her like?
Have you ever used the term ârent-a-rabbi?âÂ How do you feel about this term?
When I was ordained as a Reform Rabbi in 2000 I was certain that I would never officiate at interfaith wedding ceremonies. I felt that as a rabbi, my role was to preside over ceremonies only for Jews. I was fully comfortable welcoming interfaith couples into the congregation where I worked and recognized that this could be beneficial for both the couple and the congregation. I accepted patrilineal descent (meaning that if the father is Jewish and the mother is not Jewish, their child is recognized as Jewish if he or she is raised as a Jew; in contrast, traditional Jewish law recognizes only matrilineal descent, insisting that the mother be Jewish in order for the child to be considered Jewish) and so I recognized the children of all interfaith marriages as Jewish.
When a couple with one Jewish partner and one partner of another faith tradition would come to me and ask me to officiate at their wedding ceremony, I would say something to the effect of: âNo. But I will fully welcome you into my community after your wedding and I hope that you and any children you may have will be active participants.â
For years, I was comfortable with this positionâwhat I now think of as my âNo. ButâŠâ stance. Over time, however, I came to realize that what many of these couples heard me say was simply the âNo,â and not anything that I said after the âBut.â While I thought I was being welcoming, I only looked at the situation through my own eyes, rather than from the perspective of the couple that I was, in essence, turning away.
I eventually came to see that the Jewish partner, who was coming to a rabbi and asking for acceptance and for a rabbi to be part of this major event in his or her life, could feel very hurt by my stanceâas if he or she was being rejected by me (and by implication by the Jewish community) for having fallen in love with someone who was not Jewish. And for the partner who was from another faith tradition (or perhaps did not feel connected to any tradition), for whom this was sometimes his or her first contact with a member of the Jewish clergy, the first thing they were told was âno.â No matter what came after my âBut,â it was often the ânoâ that resonated most loudly.
Fortunately, I live in an area where there are many wonderful rabbis and cantors who have officiated at interfaith wedding ceremonies for years, so the couples that I turned away were able to find other Jewish clergy to officiate at their weddings. To this day, I have remained in touch with some of the couples at whose weddings I had refused to officiate, and I have seen what the power of being welcomed by other rabbis and cantors from the very beginning has meant to them. I only hope that there are not any couples I declined to marry who were so turned off by the perceived rejection that they did not seek out other Jewish clergy to officiate at their wedding, and then did not seek out further involvement in the Jewish community.
For me, there was not any great epiphany that caused me to start officiating at interfaith weddings, but rather it was a slow evolution. My evolution came about as I saw many couples where one partner was not Jewishâand families where one parent was not Jewishâbeing actively engaged in Jewish life and the Jewish community. It came about as I learned that things are not always âblack and whiteâ and that real life is about the âgreyâ areasâthe complicated family dynamics, the fact that someone who practices one religion can fall deeply in love with someone who practices another religion, and so on. This is the complicated, messyâand often beautifulâreality of life. And I decided that rather than view it as a threat, I would view it as an opportunity.
About four years ago, I began for my first time to work with an interfaith couple in preparation for their wedding. I loved working with them and having the opportunity to discuss all of the challenges and blessings of their relationship. I wondered, though, how I would feel as I stood under the chuppah(wedding canopy) with this couple. After all, this would be a new experience for meâsomething outside of my usual comfort zone that would mean doing something that for years I had professed I would never do. And you know what? Lighting didnât strike me as I stood under the chuppah!
In fact, when the ceremony was over and I had a chance to reflect on my emotions, I felt great. I had participated in a sacred moment with this couple. I had honored their differences and celebrated their union. And hopefully, on their journey toward marriage, I had exposed them to some of the richness and beauty of Judaism and made them feel TRULY welcome.
In the last few years, Iâve been blessed to work with a number of terrific interfaith couples as they have prepared for their weddings. In each case, I have welcomed the conversations of complex issues of identity and belonging, honoring and sharing, feelings of gain and of loss. I feel that I have grown as a rabbi and a person from my connections with these couplesâfrom embracing the complexity of life and the beauty of their relationships. I hope that they too have grown from our working together, both as individuals and as a couple.
My stance toward interfaith couples is no longer âNo. ButâŠâ Now it is âYes. AndâŠâ In essence, I now tell couples: âYes, I will marry you. And I hope that you and your family will feel welcome and become involved in the Jewish community.â
I think that after hearing âYesâ from me, they are a lot more likely to hear what comes after the âAndâŠâ I believe with all my heart that if a couple sees the door to Judaism as wide open and welcoming, they are more likely to cross over the threshold. Rather than shut that very first door in the face of an interfaith couple, I now hold it open for them and accompany them as they walk through.
As the new managing editor at InterfaithFamily, I want our blog to be a place where our readers can find out about the âinterfaith conversationâ thatâs happening when it happens in the Jewish and secular media. Yesterday, 21-year-old Rachel Cohen wrote an informed piece on The Daily Beast, âWhy Jews Should Stop Worrying About Intermarriage,â challenging Jewish communal leaders to essentially, be less offensive. She speaks to the inclusion we at IFF are working toward much more succinctly than I could, and she speaks directly for her generation:
âWe want to live in a society where people can and should marry whomever they love. Consequently, we want those partnerships to be welcomed with open arms by our government, and by our communities.â
Cohen is getting clear messages from the Jewish community. But theyâre not the ones she wants to hear: We support you, as long as you marry another Jew.
Interfaith marriage is not the problem, as Cohen sees it. Alienating Americaâs Jewish youth from Jewish communal life is.
My weekend was full of babies â and beautiful ways to welcome them into the world.
Saturday started off with a baby naming ceremony for my cousinâs daughter. My cousin is in an interfaith marriage, and they are raising their children Jewish. When it was time for her aliyah(the honor of being called to say the blessing over the Torah reading), the rabbi invited the whole family up, even getting a chair for the new big brother to stand on so he could see the Torah and be part of what was going on. The whole congregation seemed to share in the joy as we welcomed this family and their adorable little girl into the community.
Later that afternoon, I attended a âbaby blessingâ party for a friend of mine who is due in July. Neither she nor her husband is Jewish, but they invited all of the guests to share a blessing, poem or song in honor of the parents-to-be and their baby. The husbandâs family is from India so they actually incorporated part of a traditional Indian baby blessing ceremony into the afternoon. The women were invited to paint my friendâs cheeks with sandalwood and her forehead with vermilion. We placed bracelets on her arms and the baby is supposed to be able to hear the clinking sound of the bracelets in the womb. We offered words or songs of blessing for the new parents and for a safe birth.
When I was trying to figure out what words I could offer, I looked at some of InterfaithFamilyâs materials, including our Brit Bat booklet. There I found a familiar prayerâthe Shehekhiyanuâsaid whenever you experience something new or do something for the first time. This was the perfect blessing for me to say in honor of all the friends and family that were gathered for the ceremony and in honor of my friendsâ first born! I was glad to be able to offer something from my Jewish tradition that could resonate with everyone there.
The day was another reminder to me of the beauty of Judaism and the ways it can help us add meaning and joy to the special moments of our life.
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