Proud to be LGBTQI and Interfaith

  

Rabbi Mychal Copeland served as director of IFF/Bay Area until June, 2017 and is the incoming rabbi at Sha’ar Zahav in San Francisco.

Rabbi Mychal and her wife - Proud to be LGBTQI and interfaith

When I met my first girlfriend at 22 years old, I fell head over heels. My mind was swirling for at least a year—processing how this person would change my life, when and how I would tell my parents I might be a lesbian and how her more conservative parents would take the news. But mostly it was swirling from being in love. The last thing on my mind was the fact that she wasn’t Jewish. And that isn’t because I didn’t care about Judaism; in fact, I was on a path to become a rabbi. I knew I would always live a Jewish life and any kids I might have would be raised Jewish as well. On the list of things to fret about, her religious identity was far from the top.

Since then, these overlapping identities have profoundly shaped my work. My two greatest passions are supporting people in interfaith relationships and exploring the intersections between LGBTQI identities and religion. In some ways, they are distinct: The first deals with choice in a modern landscape while the other is usually thought to be a non-choice that pushes against the foundations of many of the world’s religions, including Judaism.

The two converge around the principle of otherness. Because both challenge entrenched religious boundaries, people identifying as interfaith or LGBTQI often feel like the quintessential other. In the 20-some years since that first girlfriend became my life partner, I have found that both realities inform the way I see our relationship and my connection to Judaism. In working with other interfaith LGBTQI couples, it seems that some of my personal revelations are far from unique.

In honor of LGBTQI Pride Month this June, I set out to explore how we can best honor LGBTQI Jews and their partners who aren’t Jewish. What is particular about the cross section of identities when LGBTQI people are in interfaith, interracial or intercultural relationships?

  1. Interfaith LGBTQI couples live at the intersection of multiple minority identities. LGBTQI people may identify themselves as living at the margins or on the fringe. Being Jewish and part of other minority groups can provide a space to celebrate being the “other” on multiple levels. Deep within Jewish history and thought is a cognizance of having been the stranger in a strange land, forever lifting those who are on the outside of power structures.
  2. There is a high number of interfaith relationships in the Jewish LGBTQI community, much higher than for non-LGBTQI Jews. If you identify as LGBTQI and you are in a relationship, chances are very good that your loved one is from a different religious, racial or cultural background. One study showed (and I am not certain the origin of these numbers) that 11 percent of LGBTQI Jews are in relationships with other Jews. Eighty-nine percent are either in interfaith relationships or single. Why? We are beginning with a small pool of people. In addition, we already break down boundaries and categories as LGBTQI people. Choosing someone from a different background is sometimes viewed as a furthering of that sense of boundary crossing or breaking. In other instances, this issue seems unimportant when weighed against other challenges of being LGBTQI.
  3. Children are not a given for most LGBTQI people. LGBTQI couples can teach Judaism a great lesson on this front since Judaism is often perceived as being overly next-generation focused. When the Jewish establishment frets about intermarriage, the focus is usually on ensuring that the children of such unions are raised Jewish. LGBTQI interfaith couples challenge this and force us to redirect our focus to meaningful ways an interfaith couple without children navigates their differences or may need support. Some queer interfaith couples sense a difference in their families of origin about having children at all. Religious background can also affect whether couples feel pressured to raise children or are discouraged from it.
  4. For those who do choose to have children, issues may arise about how to raise them in an interfaith LGBTQI home. Questions of patrilineal or matrilineal descent may arise. While Reform and Reconstructionist Judaism both accept a child of a Jewish mother or father as Jewish, Conservative and Orthodox only accept a child of a Jewish mother as Jewish. Is a child of a mother who is not Jewish accepted as Jewish? What about surrogacy? A Jewish or not Jewish father’s sperm? Adoption? Fostering? Does using a Jewish sperm donor make a difference? What about alternative family models outside the two-parent model?Mychal under chuppah with her wife on their wedding day.
  5. When two people come together from distinct religious backgrounds, they have not one but two or more religions to contend with regarding LGBTQI issues.
  6. There tend to be more inter-ethnic relationships within the LGBQI community, so an interfaith LGBTQI couple may have a third aspect to explore if they come from different ethnic or racial backgrounds.
  7. “Coming out” to family or community as LGBTQI might feel a lot like “coming out” as being in an interfaith relationship. Coming out as interfaith dating in some Jewish families or communities might be harder than coming out as queer (many rabbis who will marry LGBTQI couples will not officiate at an intermarriage). Different religious traditions will affect how the couple is received. Some may be open to gay and lesbian couples, but will still be grappling with bisexuality or transgender identities.
  8. There is often a severe rejection of religion in LGBTQI communities. Much of the exclusion, discrimination, violence and institutionalized oppression LGBTQI people have experienced is rooted in religion. This difficult history can make it challenging to adhere to a spiritual or religious identity as an LGBTQI person. This can play out for couples as well if they hold different opinions about religious involvement. In addition, finding queer-friendly religious or spiritual institutions can be tough—add to that finding one that is also interfaith friendly can make the task feel daunting.

When my partner and I offered our vows to one another, we recalled words from the Book of Ruth. In this biblical story, Ruth, the Moabite, vows to follow the Israelite, Naomi, declaring, “Wherever you go, I will go, where you lodge, I will lodge. Your people will be my people and your God, my God.” Acknowledging that they come from distinct cultural backgrounds, Ruth tells Naomi that they will always be family. This Pride month, let’s celebrate the diversity in our LGBTQI relationships

Patrilineal Descent: Should the Baby be Taken to the Mikveh for Conversion?

  

PregnantDo you know which of the following children would be considered Jewish without going through a conversion according to halacha (traditional Jewish law)?

a)      A child born from the sperm of a Jewish male and the egg of a Jewish female, who was carried by a surrogate who was not Jewish and then raised by her Jewish biological parents.

b)      The child of a biological father who was not Jewish and a biological mother who was not Jewish at the time of conception but who had a traditional Jewish conversion two days before giving birth to the child, who is adopted at birth and raised by parents who are not Jewish.

c)       The biological child of a Jewish father and a mother who is not Jewish at the time she gives birth but later converts to Judaism, who is raised as a Jew by his biological parents.

In fact, only the child in (b) is considered Jewish according to halacha. The only factor that matters in determining the Jewish “status” of a child is the religion of the woman who gives birth to the child at the time she gives birth. Whether the biological father is Jewish; whether adoptive parents are Jewish; whether a biological mother is Jewish if she is not the one who gives birth to the child; even whether the child is raised as a Jew…all of these factors are not relevant in determining whether the child is Jewish according to halacha. (For discussion of this issue by a Conservative Rabbi CLICK HERE.)

The issue of “Who is a Jew?” can be confusing; it can seem illogical, and at times unfair. Due to the traditional Jewish rule of “matrilineal descent,” when a birth-mother is Jewish—regardless of how (or by whom) the child is raised—the child is Jewish according to halacha. But when the father is Jewish (or, in the case of adoption or surrogacy, both parents may be Jewish) but the birth mother is not Jewish, even if the child is raised as a Jew, he is not Jewish according to halacha.

Nancy and Drew (not their real names) were aware of the traditional Jewish requirement of matrilineal descent when they sat in my office recently, Nancy six months pregnant with their first child, a girl. Drew, who is Jewish, and Nancy, a practicing Catholic, had decided that any children they had would be raised as Jews.  “So,” Nancy said to me, her hand resting on top of her growing belly, “how long after the baby is born should we take her to the mikveh (the ritual bath which is used for conversion to Judaism)?”

As a Reform Rabbi, I was somewhat taken aback by Nancy’s question. It has been years since the Reform Movement began recognizing “patrilineal descent” (i.e., the child can be recognized as a Jew if the father is Jewish, even if the mother is not Jewish). Drew grew up in a Reform synagogue, and he and Nancy had even begun to discuss joining a local Reform synagogue, where nobody would ever question the Jewishness of their daughter. Why, I wondered, did they feel a need to convert their daughter to Judaism when she would already be Jewish? To me, a conversion would be not only unnecessary, but problematic, since it would imply that the baby wasn’t “really” Jewish even though Drew was Jewish and she would be raised as a Jew.

And so I asked the couple why they wanted to convert their daughter, since it wasn’t necessary. Their response was simple and practical: “What if we end up at a Conservative synagogue one day, or what if our daughter grows up and wants to be married by a Conservative or Orthodox rabbi? We wouldn’t want her to feel that her being Jewish is in question, so we figured it’s best to ‘cover all of the bases’ while she’s a baby. This way, more people will consider her to be Jewish.”

I understood where they were coming from. After all, if they decided at some point to join a Conservative synagogue—even one that was very welcoming of interfaith families—since “patrilineal descent” isn’t recognized by the Conservative movement, their daughter might be allowed to be enrolled in Religious School without converting, but she would have to convert before being allowed to become a Bat Mitzvah at the synagogue. Wouldn’t it make sense, they reasoned, for them to take her to the mikveh while she was still a baby? Then, if they did join a Conservative synagogue at some point, they wouldn’t have to tell her at the age of 12 that she had to go to the mikveh because she wasn’t “really” Jewish according to the standards of her community.

I understood and respected their motivation to shield their daughter from the potential future pain of having her Jewishness questioned…of being told by others that because her mother wasn’t Jewish, she wasn’t Jewish, even though she’d been living as a Jew her entire life and had always identified as a Jew. My own daughter, simply because she was born to a Jewish mother, will never have to endure such painful questioning of her identity by others; why should Nancy and Drew have to worry that their daughter would have to deal with such questioning?

But still, I felt that by embracing Nancy and Drew’s “solution” to “convert” a child that I would already consider Jewish, I wouldn’t be holding true to my belief in the legitimacy of “patrilineal descent.” And so while I acknowledged the benefits of the couple “converting” their daughter while she was still a baby, I also expressed my concerns.

Whether Nancy or Drew will take their daughter to a mikveh for conversion while she is still a baby is their decision to make, and I will honor whatever decision they come to. But it saddens me that they have to make such a decision: choosing between their own liberal Jewish beliefs and the desire for their daughter to be recognized as a Jew by the larger Jewish community.

What would you do in Nancy and Drew’s situation? Would you take your child to the mikveh? What if the child were adopted and neither of the biological parents were Jewish?