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Every teamâ€™s victory is another teamâ€™s defeat, and the stakes were high two Sundays ago when the New England Patriots I was raised on played the Denver Broncos, the team that hails from Ericâ€™s hometown. Â In the ten years since we moved to Boston, Eric has happily come into the Red Sox fray. Â Because of his Sox allegiance, my father innocently assumed that Eric had similarly converted to be a Pats fan. Â The morning of the AFC championship game, I overheard a conversation that went like this between Eric and my father:
Dad: So, I guess the conversations between you and your family might get a little heated this evening, disagreeing about who should win.
Eric: Well, it is not such a big deal, since I am a Broncos fan.
Dad, with a perplexed expression on his face: Uh-huhâ€¦.
A moment of tension, as Dad prepared himself for the inevitably disappointing statement.
Eric: Yeah, weâ€™re rooting for the Broncos.
Dad inhales, unsure if he should butt in about how we raise our kids.
Eric continues: Well, we are raising our kids Jewishly, so I got to pick the football team.
Suddenly, the tension dissipated entirely. Â My father chuckled. Â
Dad: Fair enough, fair enough.
Choosing a football team is not on par with choosing a religion, at least not in either of our extended families. Â But Ericâ€™s choice of the Broncos is symbolic of something that is extremely significant for both of us – Judaism isnâ€™t the only choice we get to make about what kind of family we are. Â It is important to us that our children are raised with a mix of traditions that bring them closer to both sides of our extended families.
Rooting for the Broncos has been very special in that regard. Â Sunday afternoons and evenings, Ericâ€™s phone is abuzz with calls and texts about the Broncos plays, and for the span of the game the distance between Boston and Denver feels that much shorter. Â Colorado is a really magical place, and rooting for the Broncos helps the girls tie their identity to the home of their grandparents, aunt and uncle and cousins that much more.
So tonight, Ruthie can stay up late to root for Peyton Manning. Â Hopefully there can be some FaceTime during the game with homebase in her grandparentsâ€™ living room. Â I will watch the rooting with a smile on my face. Â Mumâ€™s the word on who my team will be.
By Courtney Naliboff
Flying makes me nervous. It never used to, but a few years ago on a bumpy trip back from England, I lost my faith in the Bernoulli principle. I used to pop a Xanax and snooze my way through the anxiety, but now that Iâ€™m a parent, I need to stay awake and alert to tend to my daughter on flights.
Without my sedative crutch, I turned to superstition to get me through a cross-country flight to California this winter. I bought a little silver hamsa necklace with an elegant branch and leaf design on the palm. I put it on before we left our island home in Maine for the airport, and havenâ€™t taken it off. If the Evil Eye had any designs on our airplane, weâ€™d be covered.
We got through the flight (Penrose is a much better traveler than I am these days) and landed in the warm embrace of my husbandâ€™s extended family, all of whom live in Southern California. His motherâ€™s side is from Guatemala and his fatherâ€™s side is Italian and German. Dozens of them descended on his childhood home for the holidays, drawn by Penroseâ€™s presence.
She sat on my lap and met relative after relative, warming up slowly to each new person. When she got overwhelmed, she would turn into me and often hold my hamsa in her hand.
â€śThis?â€ť she asked.
â€śItâ€™s my hamsa,â€ť I answered.
â€śHam,â€ť she replied, touching it gently.
Beyond the irony of her abbreviation for the symbol, she began to connect my necklace to the jewelry of others.
â€śAbue ham?â€ť she asked, wondering if her grandmother had a similar necklace.
â€śAbuela doesnâ€™t wear a hamsa; sometimes she wears a cross,â€ť I said. â€śI wear a hamsa because Iâ€™m Jewish. Abue wears a cross sometimes because sheâ€™s Catholic.â€ť
â€śThatâ€™s right, Mommyâ€™s Jewish.â€ť
â€śMe joosh?â€ť she asked, pressing a palm to her chest.
â€śYes, youâ€™re Jewish too.â€ť
â€śNo, Daddyâ€™s not Jewish.â€ť
Although this was Penroseâ€™s second holiday season, and she was enthusiastic about candles, latkes, and matzah balls (and Christmas tree lights and wrapping paper), it hadnâ€™t yet occurred to me to talk to her about our Jewish identity, and how that differed from her fatherâ€™s side of the family.
As a secular humanist, I havenâ€™t imbued our day-to-day life with Jewish rituals. My husband doesnâ€™t practice any elements of Christianity, and we are planning to celebrate Hanukkah, Passover, and Rosh Hashanah. When we are in Maine for Christmas, we often attend the Lessons and Carols service as musicians and enjoy the quiet evening of storytelling and song, but weâ€™re hoping to avoid the Santa and tree elements of the holiday. We often talked about the fact that Penrose would be the islandâ€™s first Jewish child, and my excitementâ€”and anxietyâ€”about that. I wanted to find a way to start explaining to Penrose what it actually meant to be â€śjooshâ€ť other than wearing jewelry. But I wasnâ€™t sure what she would understand at 20 months old.
â€śTo me, being Jewish means that we are connected back thousands of years to strong people who fight for what they believe in,â€ť I said. â€śWe help people and we work to fix the world. We never stop learning. We celebrate holidays that remind us of our freedom. We eat delicious things.â€ť
She nodded and squirmed off my lap to find her abuela. Over time, weâ€™ll continue the conversation. She likes to look in the Union Haggadahs I inherited from my grandfather and pretends to read the prayers out loud. She would be perfectly happy eating latkes every night, and asks to see my hamsa when itâ€™s hidden under a sweater. Every night, especially, for some reason, when sheâ€™s singing â€śBow wow wow, whose dog are thou?â€ť she runs through the list of Jewish family members.
Even though she might not yet understand what it means, my heart swells with pride when she ends the list with â€śMe, joosh.â€ť Itâ€™s not a question for her anymoreâ€”itâ€™s become a part of her story.
This article was reprinted with permission from Kveller.com, a fast-growing, award-winning website for parents raising Jewish and interfaith kids. Follow Kveller on Facebook and sign up for their newsletters here.
Courtney Naliboff lives on North Haven, an island off of midcoast Maine. There she teaches music, theatre and English, takes her daughter to the beach, plays music and teaches Pilates. Her writing can also be seen in MaineBiz and Working Waterfront.
This week, InterfaithFamily is celebrating its important work and the leadership provided by InterfaithFamily Founder Ed Case and Combined Jewish Philanthropies of Boston President Barry Shrage in making it possible for more of us to #ChooseLove without needing to decide between love and a Jewish life. Leading up to Thursdayâ€™s celebration, I hope you have had a chance to read IFFâ€™s own Liz Polay-Wettengelâ€™s â€śAn Open Letter to Judaism from an Interfaith Familyâ€ť on Medium this week, as well as Molly Tolskyâ€™s great response on Kveller. In her essay, Liz Polay-Wettengel speaks some honest and difficult truths about her familyâ€™s path to, with, and outside of Judaism as an Interfaith family. Molly Tolsky underscores the importance of Lizâ€™s piece, and shares her own experience, one that rings true to so many of us, of how often Interfaith couples are whole-heartedly raising their famililes Jewishly, even while there are those in our community who still decry â€śthe problemâ€ť of their couplehood.
I am lucky that my familyâ€™s story is not filled with the denials, closed doors or simple noâ€™s described in these two pieces. A huge reason for this is based in a single exchange I had with InterfaithFamily, with Ed Case specifically, eleven years ago.
When Eric and I were engaged in Los Angeles in 2004, we knew we wanted to be married by a rabbi. We also knew we wanted opportunities for members of both of our families to be involved and engaged in the wedding ceremony. We had taken an Introduction to Judaism class together and had shul-shopped a bit, but we didnâ€™t have one rabbi we knew we wanted to marry us. My parents lived in Newton, where IFFâ€™s founding and national office is located, and they knew a little about Ed Case and IFF. They encouraged us to check out the IFF website, and I was happy when I first poked around to find a link about â€śSeeking a Rabbi.â€ť
I emailed the IFF general email with a request for some ideas about rabbis in Los Angeles who would be open to marrying us. Ed Case quickly wrote back with a list of potential clergy, at least a dozen long. We started working our way through the list, setting up interviews, and eventually found a perfect fit – a wonderful rabbi named Allen Freehling with whom we both easily connected.
A list of names in an email might not sound like much, but when I compare it to the stories my peers shared this week, I am reminded of our great fortune. Wedding planning is a huge endeavor, and the process lays a foundation for your identity as a couple. If the very first step in this process is to encounter a set of â€śnoâ€™s,â€ť it can derail both your planning and your spirit. Because IFF had actively engaged in assembling lists just like the one Ed Case emailed to me, we had a long list of Yeses to send us down a path that encouraged both our pursuit of Judaism and our identity as an Interfaith family.
This week, I am thankful that IFF was available to Eric and me to support our establishment as a family. Every week, I am grateful for the resources of this organization and the communities it creates to continue this support. I hope you find it helpful to you in some small or large way, too. If you are anywhere near Boston on Thursday, Iâ€™ll look out for you at IFFâ€™s #ChooseLove celebration.
In this space, we typically address parents who are part of an interfaith couple creating a Jewish home. But this month, I want to address the parents of children who are intermarried or in interfaith relationships. Their actions and behaviors often affect the choices that couples navigating intermarriage make.
As an engagement professional at my synagogue in Dallas, Iâ€™m charged with helping to connect interfaith couples and families, and 20s and 30s to Jewish life. One of the things I frequently hear from young married and engaged couples is how uber Jewish the Jewish partnersâ€™ family has become. Suddenly, the frequency of attendance at Friday evening services has jumped and there is an intense focus on all things Jewish. Holidays that were once fairly laid back gatherings are now more significant affairs.
This story of parents acting more Jewish and dragging intermarrieds to more Jewish services and events is usually followed by the comment, â€śMy family has never been this involved in Jewish life. Theyâ€™ve suddenly become Super Jews because I married someone who isnâ€™t Jewish.â€ť Sometimes, itâ€™s the partner from another background who says; â€śMy husband/wife says that his/her parents rarely went to services before we got engaged. Now, anything related to Judaism is important.â€ť
My reaction to these stories is always the same. I smile and nod. I tell the couple that their parents or in-laws behavior is common. Many Jewish parents, in response to a child intermarrying or interdating, think that if they up their level of Jewish engagement, that they can influence the decisions of interfaith couples. They believe their newfound connection to Jewish life will communicate how important Judaism and its continuation is to them.
I explain to the couples that their parents or in-laws behavior is a result of various emotionsâ€“nervousness, uncertainty, fear, and guilt to name a few. Parents worry that the intermarrieds wonâ€™t make Jewish choices or honor their commitment to have a Jewish home. They fear their grandchildren wonâ€™t identify as Jews, that Christmas will overshadow Jewish rituals and traditions. They feel guilty for not having been more engaged in Judaism when their son or daughter was growing up and wonder if they had done more would their child have chosen a Jewish partner.
Parents use intensified engagement as a surrogate for talking with their child and his or her partner about their feelings and why Judaism and Jewish peoplehood is important to them. The problem with this approach is that intermarrieds see through it. They know their parentsâ€™ or in-lawsâ€™ actions are disingenuous.
So how can parents influence the religious choices of intermarrieds in a way that is genuine?
Disingenuous hyper involvement in Jewish life wonâ€™t guarantee that intemarrieds will create Jewish homes or raise Jewish children. But it will turn them off or push them away. Instead, remember that your familyâ€™s Jewish journey is still unfolding. A strong embrace of Judaism by the interfaith couple may not happen quickly. But by being honest and welcoming, and supporting the choices the couple makes, you can have a positive influence on the future.
My parents and extended family have always supported myÂ own interfaith family. There are many ways they haveÂ said or shown this to me.Â When I think about when I knew it would be OK for me to bring home a partner who wasn’t Jewish, I always remember one specific conversation. I canâ€™t remember exactly when this happened, but if I had to guess I would say it was during my Hebrew school confirmation year. The class curriculum, about understanding our Jewish identity as emerging adults, would have been an easy opener to summon up the courage to ask how my parents felt about me dating people who werenâ€™t Jewish.
My mom knew her answer right away.
â€śI wantÂ youÂ to find someone you love,â€ť she said, â€śand if you really love each other, then you can figure out the rest.â€ť
My mom was a clinical psychologist. Outside of her practice, she was a great friend, an excellent advice giver, and shared the role (with my dad) of #1 life advisor to our extended family. In other words, she had the inside track on a lot of relationships.
Wearing her many hats, my mom had seen successful marriages of all stripes, and she had witnessed the pain of marriages that ended in separation and divorce. She had seen same-faith and interfaith couples who thrived, and couples who had struggled to make their relationships work, regardless of religion.
My mom wanted her three children to find love, the kind that sustains lifeâ€™s ebbs and flows and would encircle her future grandchildren (who were always in her plans, I suspect) with love and stability. She wanted to be sure that no matter who we ended up with, she and my dad would be aÂ closely connected part of our lives. And more than anything in her life, she wanted to protect her children from pain.
She wasnâ€™t saying â€śBeing Jewish doesnâ€™t matter,â€ť nor was she saying â€śYour partnerâ€™s religion, and their familyâ€™s religion, donâ€™t matter.â€ť What she was saying was that she wanted us to learn how to love, and how to be loved. When she said weâ€™d figure out the rest, she really did expect that. My parents always modeled a kind of loving partnership where being married meant you worked through things, not around them. When we had partners, we would need to figure â€śitâ€ť out, whatever it was.
Ultimately, my parents wanted us to be happy. I believe my mom was concerned that if she put limitations on our choice of partners, we might not endeavor on a truly full exploration of what we wanted in a partner. It was most important to her that we learn how to both love and â€śfigure things out,â€ť with either a Jewish person or a person who was not Jewish. My mom understood that religion was important, but not necessarily the magic key to a successful marriage.
I am thankful that my parents opened the door for me to find my right match, and gave me confidence that they would support my relationship based on its merits. This week would have been my momâ€™s 67th birthday. As my dad, sister, brother and I celebrate her and remember how much we miss her, I am lucky to have my husband and his family watch over me and hold my hand. On her birthday, I will pause and thank my mom for the ways she embraced my husband, and for not missing a beat in telling me to #ChooseLove first, with faith that the rest would follow.
There are many ways we all #ChooseLove in our lives. See the gallery and share your story!
Earlier this month my family hosted some of the Israeli staff from my sonâ€™s summer camp before they went to the camp for training. We have done this for the past three summers, and it has been a wonderful experience.
This year, the staff that we hosted had spent time with Birthright tours in Israel, and one had an American girlfriend who he met while serving as an IDF liaison to a trip. As he told us about her, he mentioned that she was Jewish. Really Jewish. Since 30 percent of Birthright participants have only one Jewish parent, I assumed that he meant that this young woman came from an inmarried family or was of matrilineal descent. A moment later, my young Israeli friend elaborated on the comment, â€śHer mother and father are both Jewish.â€ť
The language used was an immediate red flag because my son’s camp was affiliated with the Reform movement and accepted as Jewish any child with one Jewish parent regardless of whether that parent was the mother or father. There would be many not-really-Jewish kids at camp. I wanted the counselor to understand that his language was not acceptable and could be hurtful to the very children whose Jewish identities camp was supposed to nurture. I need to say something.
I explained that since the camp was Reform, there would be many children from interfaith homes being raised within Judaism and that all were accepted and welcomed as Jews. I shared that there were no really-Jewish and not-really-Jewish campers. They were all Jewish. Drawing any distinction between kids from inmarried and intermarried homes was not in the spirit of camp, especially one that greets everyone with the phrase, â€śWelcome to Camp!â€ť My guest said he understood.
The conversation made me think about the larger discussion about intermarriage not just in the US, but also in Israel. With the intermarriage rate in the US at 70% for non-Orthodox Jews, the success of American efforts to connect interfaith families to Judaism is hugely important to Jewish continuity and the relationship between American Jews and Israel. Many researchers and Jewish communal professionals in America see programs such as Birthright as significant opportunities to build the Jewish identity and connection to Israel of children of intermarriage. Program data proves that the trips are doing just that which is great news.
But working to create Jewish communities that are welcoming and inclusive of interfaith families needs also to happen in Israel. The old rhetoric about intermarriage that is still common among Israelis has to change if children of intermarriage are to develop a strong connection to the Promised Land. Letâ€™s face it; future generations of American Jews will mostly come from interfaith homes. If they feel disconnected and alienated from Israel, the historic ties between the American Jewish community and Israel will diminish.
But even with the trends we see in Judaism, change will be difficult because Israelâ€™s Ultra-Orthodox Chief Rabbinate controls religious law and services. Hopefully, over time and with political and religious reform, money, and more Israeli exposure to the diversity of Jews in America, we can at least get everyone to refer to children like my son as simply â€śJewish.â€ť
Recently, the membership director at my synagogue asked me if I would reach out to a young woman who was the Jewish half of an interfaith couple and a new temple member with her husband. She was also expecting her first child. Knowing the importance of a warm welcome, especially for intermarrieds, I said I would be happy to reach out.
I assumed my conversation with this Jewish intermarried would be similar to the discussions Iâ€™ve had with other intermarried partners looking for a Jewish home. She would feel grateful and relieved to have found a welcoming, inclusive community that dedicated resources to interfaith-specific programming.
When I called the woman, I told her about my involvement over the years in the congregationâ€™s Interfaith Moms group and its evolution into Interfaith Families. I discussed how the group was a great way to meet other intermarrieds and build community at our large synagogue. I said I would add her name to the groupâ€™s distribution list so she would receive information on future activities.
At this point, the conversation took a strange turn. She told me that she wasn’t sure she wanted to be involved with an interfaith group because she needed to be “very strategic” about who her family associated with. I wondered what that meant.
The interfaith mom-to-be explained that she was raised in an active Conservative home that kept kosher. She had a Jewish wedding and her children would be raised Jewish. So far, a common story.
Then she made a few statements that started to help me understand what â€śvery strategicâ€ť meant. She said interfaith groups were not comprised of families like hers where the mother was the Jewish parent. Instead, they â€śwere mostly non-Jewish women, who really weren’t interested in raising Jewish children.â€ť
What?!?! Iâ€™d never heard another intermarried use the same (old) stereotypes still peddled by some segments of the Jewish community or held by older generations.
She added that since the female partner controlled the religious upbringing of children and the identity of a home the families in our interfaith group would never be Jewishly active. “Besides,â€ť she said, â€śTheir children will never really be Jewish anyway.”
At this point, I had enough of the outdated rhetoric regarding intermarriage and decided it was time to dispel a few myths and explain what type of community she had joined.
In a friendly but firm tone, I explained that our interfaith families group was diverse. It included families with a Jewish mom and a not Jewish dad, a Jewish dad and not Jewish mom, a parent that converted, and same-sex couples with one not Jewish partner. Since the group was synagogue-based, regardless of family composition, the participants were all raising Jewish children and creating singularly Jewish homes, or moving in that direction.
I shared that many of the not Jewish partners were the ones reconnecting their Jewish spouses to Judaism. She interjected with another generalization, â€śIsnâ€™t that always how it is? The convert becomes more zealous about practicing than the one born Jewish.â€ť
I didnâ€™t want her to have the impression that all of the not Jewish partners had converted or were in the process of converting. I said, â€śSome convert, some maintain their identity but arenâ€™t practicing, and some are active in and fully committed to raising Jewish children but remain connected to their individual faith.â€ť I also explained that we were a Reform congregation, which meant that we welcomed, recognized and accepted children as Jewish if they had one Jewish parentâ€“regardless of the gender of the parent. The woman got quiet.
I asked her if she had any questions or if I could help her in any way. She asked about baby naming ceremonies for girls. As she shared her questions, I empathized with this young woman. I remembered the early years of my marriage when I was also unsure of how my and my husbandâ€™s choice to be Jewish would play out.
I also thought that I needed to direct our Jewish life and worried about the influence of interfaith couples making different decisions. I didnâ€™t start feeling more relaxed about being Jewish and interfaith until we found an inclusive and welcoming community. Only then did I realize that sharing a commitment to create a Jewish home was what was important, not how each couple implemented that decision. In fact, the diversity of approaches became an opportunity to learn, rather than something to be feared.
This woman and I spoke for another few minutes. It was a nice conversation. When I hung up, I hoped that after her initial hesitation wore off, she and her husband and baby would try an interfaith families activity. Because if they tried it, theyâ€™d realize that there is nothing to fear and much to gain from having a vibrant community of interfaith families to navigate the joys and challenges of intermarriage with.
This week was my Bat Mitzvah Anniversary. Â I always feel a little lighter on my feet on my Bat Mitzvah Anniversary, like it is a mini-birthday that only I celebrate. Iâ€™ve never really talked to anyone about their Bat Mitzvah Anniversary, to find out if other people walk around reflecting on their day when it rolls around each year. There would be something religiously poetic about talking about this coming from a sense of my anniversary being some kind of a spiritual birthday, that I take time on March 25 to re-read my Torah portion, or to go to minyan. But thatâ€™s not really why I feel so light. It’s about a lot of other things; things about family and friends and a shift in how I perceived myself as an individual, Jewish or not.
I may be wrong, but Iâ€™d imagine that for many people who grew up Jewishly, whether you practice Judaism or not as an adult, your anniversary, or at least the memory of your Bar or Bat Mitzvah would carry a little of that. In my estimation, the main difference between having had a Bar Mitzvah and not is not whether or not you ever became an adult, or people ever talked to you about “becoming an adult.” Itâ€™s that if you had a Bar Mitzvah, there was a moment in time that stood out in marking that progression (even if it was years before adulthood set in), rather than the multitude of smaller events that mark the passage from child to teen to adulthood over time for all of us.
So what is my Bat Mitzvah Anniversary about for me? As much as we can recognize that in todayâ€™s society, a child is hardly an adult, or near that, at 13, there are some big things that happen when you become a Bar or Bat Mitzvah. First, of course, you are called to the bimah to read from the Torah – the first time you are fully able to do all of the things adults do during religious observance. Through Torah and Dâ€™var Torah (the speech), you make a commitment to begin engaging with your community as an adult – to try out being a grown-up. But the other stuff? Here are a few things:
So perhaps my Bat Mitzvah Anniversary is a mini birthday for my individuality and independence, or perhaps it is just a day to remember how lucky I have been to have lots of great people around me in my life. If you were raised Jewishly, perhaps some of this resonates for you. If you werenâ€™t raised Jewishly, and you have a Jewish partner, or a child who has become a Bar or Bat Mitzvah, give them a mazel tov on their anniversary this year.
This weekend, my girls received special gifts from The PJ Library. Â A box came for each of them in the mail, and inside was a beautiful new Tzedakah box and a box of â€śKindness Cardsâ€ť that can be used for four special mensch-themed games to remind the players about six important Jewish values related to tzedakah, or charity. My girls were thrilled, and spent the better part of the day carrying around the boxes and admiring the colorful cards.
The boxes also came smack in the middle of the holiday weekend highlighted by both Thanksgiving and Black Friday (and its companion consumption-oriented Saturday, Sunday, and Monday). Even though I try to focus on the calm family togetherness vibe of Thanksgiving and avoid shopping, I still canâ€™t help getting caught up in the bit of the gift-list-making and shopping-planning that the Black Friday coverage instills. So it was good to have these tzedakah boxes arrive on Black Friday, to remind me about the importance of both making tzedakah and talk of tzedakah a part of my familyâ€™s December traditions.
I will admit I could be much more organized with my giving, but when I feel I can give, I try to do so, and I generally try to give in three pots. The first is to causes or charities where I feel there is a real need being met – something from which I may never benefit but where I believe important work is happening to really change peopleâ€™s lives. The second is that I try to set aside some funds to give to charities friends are involved with, so that when someone is pouring their heart into a fundraiser or working for or directly benefiting from a service, I can appreciate them through a connection. And the third is to places that provide a benefit to me, where I cannot pay in direct proportion to that benefit but where I can give a little to recognize how important they are in my own life.
The PJ Library Tzedakah box was a gift to my children to excite them about tzedakah. It reminded me, though, that we are a part of the tzedakah work of PJ Library. The Kindness Cards feature pictures from a number of the girlsâ€™ favorite books, books that have helped them relate to and understand their Judaism. They have also given them a library where books about Jewish things are just a part of the stories they love, not the rare find they were when I was a girl. So while they will put money in the boxes and dedicate coins to the causes that resonate with the huge hearts in their small bodies, I have decided a little bit of my coins should go back to the PJ Library.
Even before the boxes came, I was also getting excited about #GivingTuesday and helping out InterfaithFamily in their first year of participation. Because as I decide how much I can extend into the three pots this holiday season, and how to balance my gift-giving with my tzedakah, I appreciate the strong role of InterfaithFamily in my Interfaith Journey over the last 15 years. InterfaithFamily provided Eric and I with the list of clergy people willing to perform our wedding ceremony, and led us to a wise, kind and generous rabbi who felt passionately about the need to welcome Interfaith couples into Judaism from the get-go. Personally, it has given me the very special opportunity to be a writer, and to reflect openly on my parenting path. InterfaithFamily has provided countless holiday resources to my family, and has helped us find new ways to explore the traditions we are building, Jewish and otherwise. Even more, it is helping to create an environment within the Jewish community where my girls can feel welcomed and able to embrace their whole selves in ways that werenâ€™t widely available even a generation ago.
Everyone has their own way of deciding how to weave tzedakah into their giving, and the scope of each family’s ability to give is widely different. If you donâ€™t, though, Iâ€™d encourage you to take a moment (maybe even a moment on Tuesday) to think about how you can give to those who have given to you. A quick peek at the #GivingTuesday website is a great way to start. And if InterfaithFamily has been important in your Interfaith Journey, too, you can skip that website and give here.
When I set out to write my book From Generation to Generation: A Story of Intermarriage and Jewish Continuity, I wanted to demonstrate through the telling of my familyâ€™s story that intermarriage has not been as bad for the Jews as many in the Jewish community would have us believe. I wanted to show that the reality of the religious lives of mixed faith families is more nuanced and richly Jewish, than is often portrayed through surveys, statistics, and snapshot anecdotes.
For years, the Jewish communityâ€™s belief that intermarriage is a significant factor in the decline of the Jewish population has been reinforced by how it collects its data. Jewish demographic surveys mostly look at rates of intermarriage and Jewish childrearing by intermarrieds. There have been few studies that Iâ€™ve come across that dig deeper into this issue through qualitative and quantitative research; few researchers, academics, or community leaders interested in understanding the hows and the whys of Jews who are intermarried.
This focus on calculating the percentage of Jews that intermarry and raise singularly Jewish children has failed to move the debate about how to best address intermarriage and its effect on Jewish continuity forward in a meaningful way. Instead, it continuously creates communal hysteria and vitriol with the release of each new study.
One of the problems with the data on intermarriage is that it captures the religious choices of families at a single point in time. This method assumes that interfaith family life is static. However, an intermarried family’s relationship to faith can be as dynamic as an inmarried family’s.
For example, some not Jewish partners choose to convert after many years of living a Jewish life. Previously uncommitted couples decide to engage Jewishly when a child is born or starts preschool. Interfaith families who identify as Jews of no religion become more involved after a significant life event. Families who start out as dual-faith later make the decision to have singularly Jewish homes. Children of intermarriage choose to identify as Jews in some way when they reach adulthood.
Until recently, most demographic studies have failed to measure the Jewish identification, engagement, and experience of interfaith families in a way that captures scenarios such as the ones highlighted above. However, after the publication of the Pew report, Theodore Sasson, a senior research scientist at the Cohen Center for Modern Jewish Studies asked the Pew research team to look at the rate at which young adult children of intermarriage identified as Jews.
He found that over the years, â€śthe proportion of adult children of intermarriage identifying as Jewish has steadily increased, reaching 59%â€ť for children born after 1980. The result was almost evenly split between those identifying as Jews by religion and those identifying as Jews of no religion.
In discussing his findings, Sasson states in the Spring 2014 issue of Contact, â€śthe higher-than-expected rate of Jewish identification among the adult children of intermarriage isâ€¦a significant milestone. The rate at which young adult children of intermarriage identify as Jewish exceeds the rate at which their parents claimed to be raising them as Jewish in the NJPS 2000-01 survey.â€ť
Sasson’s data captures people like my cousin, the child of a Jewish father and not Jewish mother raised in a home with no religion. During his first year of college, he met other kids like him. Some of his friends had heard of Birthright and suggested that they all look into it.
The idea of exploring his Jewish heritage interested my cousin enough that he announced at his family’s secular Christmas dinner that he was planning to apply to go on the Israel trip with his friends. My Jew of no religion uncle, who had been turned-off by the faith after his bar mitzvah, did not resist the idea. He said, â€śIâ€™d be okay with that.â€ť
By collecting data on intermarriage and the child-rearing choices of intermarried Jews in the way that we do, we do not allow for the possibility that being Jewish or engaging in Judaism can become important or of interest to interfaith families and children of intermarriage over time. Dr. Sasson’s findings will hopefully get the Jewish research community to consider additional ways to study intermarriage’s effect on Jewish identity.
I hope to see more qualitative research being done too in order to better understand why intermarrieds are or are not choosing Judaism, and how they are engaging in Judaism if they are associating themselves with the Jewish people in some way. But, until communal leaders start asking these questions, it is up to intermarrieds who are actively choosing Judaism to make our voices heard.
By sharing my family’s interfaith and Jewish journey in From Generation to Generation, I hope others will be encouraged to share their story. Our narratives can help answer questions such as why, how, and when are intermarrieds making Jewish choices.
The Jewish community needs to learn from and leverage the experiences of interfaith families living Jewishly in order to draw more intermarrieds into American Jewish life. If it does not, the predictions of the communal pessimists will eventually become reality.
Sasson suggests that the Jewish community support efforts to maximize the percentage of intermarrieds raising Jewish children and welcome young adults not raised as Jews to explore their Jewish heritage. He seems to recognize what many Jewishly engaged intermarrieds already know; Jewish spouses will not sustain us, but Jewish engagement will.
Theodore Sasson, â€śInvesting in the Children of Intermarriage,â€ť Contact: The Journal of the Steinhardt Foundation for Jewish Life, Spring 2014, Volume 16, no. 1, 8-9. http://www.steinhardtfoundation.org/wp-install/wp-content/uploads/2014/03/spring_2014.pdf