According to the new Pew Center survey of Jewish Americans, 45 percent of intermarrieds are raising their children Jewish or partially Jewish by religion. That is great news since the 2000-2001 National Jewish Population Survey found that only one-third of intermarrieds choose Judaism in some way.
But simply knowing that that the number of us living Jewishly has increased is not enough for me. I want to know why. Is it because of outreach efforts, changes in policies that have made some organizations more accepting of interfaith couples or a larger number of clergy who will officiate at interfaith weddings? Is it that more mixed faith couples are finding relevance in the history, culture, values, beliefs and observances of Judaism? Maybe the driver is something else.
Whatever it is, inquiring minds in the Jewish community should want to know. Why? Because if we want to build meaningful relationships with interfaith families or develop initiatives that entice families to explore Jewish life than we must understand what excites families like mine about Judaism and what attributes make religious connection important to us.
So in the interest of creating a better understanding of what drives intermarrieds to engage Jewishly, I want to share why Cameron and I have chosen a Jewish identity for our family. I recognize that our home is a sample size of one. But I hope that by sharing the drivers of our engagement that it will encourage other interfaith families to join the conversation and make their voice heard.
So here are the reasons we chose to be Jewish:
1. Community: A large part of why we decided that we would have a Jewish identity is because of community. When Cameron and I were dating we would often discuss how we should approach faith in the context of intermarriage. I wanted a Jewish home; Cameron wanted to celebrate both traditions. I needed to make a case for Judaism. While I could not provide a spiritual reason for having a Jewish family except that I did not believe in the divinity of Jesus, I did feel strongly about Jewish peoplehood.
I explained that there is a bond that unites every individual Jew with the larger Jewish community. This connection is expressed in the Hebrew phrase, Kol Yisrael arevim zeh bazeh. All Jews are responsible for one another. I wanted my children to feel a part of this bigger group.
Cameron accepted the idea that there is more to being Jewish than faith and on the night he agreed to raise our children as Jews he said, â€śIn our society you donâ€™t need to do anything to feel Christian. We could do nothing in our home and our children would think they were Christian. There is more to being Jewish than just religion. For our children to be Jewish they need to be taught what it means to be Jewish.â€ť
2. Deed vs. Creed: Modern Judaismâ€™s emphasis on action rather than belief is another reason we chose a Jewish identity for our family. While I believe that there is something larger at work in the universe, Cameron is less certain that a divine presence exists. Since Judaism teaches that doing good deeds is more important than believing in a certain idea about God, there is no pressure to conform to or accept a specific religious belief.
Cameron was raised in a home that took its responsibility for serving the larger community seriously, so the concept of tikkun olam, repairing the world, was attractive to him. Regardless of what we each believed about God, we shared a view that our purpose is to make the world a better place. Judaism provided us a framework to teach this idea to our children.
3. One Family, One Identity: Before Cameron and I got engaged we struggled to resolve our faith in the home dilemma. We read books that presented various interfaith arrangements from pursuing one to conversion to raising children in two religions to joining the Unitarian church. But it was a class on interfaith relationships at the Center for Religious Inquiry in New York City that helped us to find a solution. A rabbi and a rector taught the course, and one evening they impressed upon us the importance of choosing one religion.
â€śYour child is asked to make a winter holiday art project. She can make only one,â€ť said the rector. â€śShe must choose red and green paper to create a Christmas theme or blue and white for Chanukah. It appears that this is a simple choice, but for a child being raised in a home with two religions, with no clear religious identity, this is not a choice between colored papers, it is a choice between mommy and daddy. And thatâ€™s a decision no child wants to make.â€ť
The story shocked us into thinking about our situation from a very different point of view. Rather than focusing on the compromises and feelings of adults, it made us see a childâ€™s perspective and asked us to consider how our decision would impact our future children. Neither one of us could think about putting our child in the position described. After the discussion Cameron told me that he was comfortable with raising our children as Jews because being Jewish was about more than faith.
I would love to know why other 45-percenters chose a Jewish identity for their family. I would also like to know why 55 percent of intermarrieds made a different choice. I believe that we need to go beyond the numbers to learn what is driving behavior so that we can more effectively engage interfaith families. Because letâ€™s face it, with almost 60 percent of recently married Jews choosing a partner from outside the faith the future of Judaism depends on bringing more families like mine into the tent.
As I prepared to publish this post, I hesitated for a second, as hopefully many of you who read my posts also read Jane Larkinâ€™s musings, and we were both moved to write about Jewish learning this month.Â But Iâ€™m sticking with it, because our coinciding themes must mean that itâ€™s important, right?Â With all of the emphasis on back-to-school for our kids, it seems like a good idea to think about the possibility of back-to-school for us grown-ups, too.
I sit on the alumni advisory committee for Parenting Through a Jewish Lens, a fantastic program offered by Hebrew College and Combined Jewish Philanthropies (Bostonâ€™s Jewish Federation).Â At our kick-off meeting for the year, we did an icebreaker where we all answered the question, â€śWhat is the best kept secret about PTJL?â€ťÂ We shared lots of ideas, but the thing that stuck with me was the comment of the woman who spoke after me: â€śIts better than date night,â€ť she said, â€śbecause unlike on date night, when you feel pressured to have a great time, to not be tired and to think of fun and interesting things to say, the curriculum is filled with interesting things to talk about, the babysitting is free, and you can easily connect with your partner without any pressure.â€ť
Now, I love date night, and I wonâ€™t go so far as to say that a Sunday morning class is better than a night out on the townâ€¦and I even think that my friend from the committee might admit to a little hyperbole in her comment.Â But having had two Jewish learning opportunities with my husband, the most recent one two years ago with one kid in (free) babysitting and another on the way, I get what sheâ€™s saying.Â First, because there always is a little more pressure to make the most of every minute of a date than there was before kids, and second, because taking Parenting Through a Jewish Lens with Eric was really great.
When we signed up for a Jewish parenting class, I imagined it would include some aspect of a rabbi telling us â€śthe rulesâ€ť of being a Jewish parent (this sounded helpful enough to me).Â Once we started, though, I realized that just telling us â€śthe rulesâ€ť wouldnâ€™t be very Jewish.Â Instead, the class was about studying direct texts, trying to understand who we are as individuals, co-parents, and children ourselves, and hoping that doing that would help us to be better parents.Â It is so hard in our every day journey to not just be parents, but to think about how well the parenting we are doing lines up with our hopes about the kind of parents we want to be.Â We were lucky in that the structure of our class supported just that kind of thinking.
That in and of itself was pretty great.Â But here was the icing on the cake: with Ruthie in babysitting down the hall, we had 90 minutes every week to be grown-ups together, to learn new things and talk about stuff that really matters.Â And it turns out we really like learning together.Â To hit a pause button every week and do something totally differentâ€¦it would be pretty special no matter what we were doing.Â And all the luckier that it was about the intersection of parenting and values, two things about which we share a passion.
So hereâ€™s my multi-pronged pitch.Â First of all, if you live in the Greater Boston area, sign-up for PTJL this fall, or at the very least put it on your to-do list for next year.Â If you donâ€™t live in Boston, or PTJLâ€™s not your thing, ponder the idea of studying something new with your spouse.Â It doesnâ€™t have to be something about your parenting, but anything that stretches your brain a little bit will probably ultimately benefit not just you, but your kids as well. Â [For those of you who live in areas where IFF has offices, you can take advantage of parenting and relationship classes and workshops in Chicago, Philadelphia and the San Francisco Bay Area.] Â So I hope everyoneâ€™s had a good back-to-school month for your kids.Â And I hope you get back-to-school, too.
When you are a mixed-faith couple, you loose the ability to assume from the get go.Â The question is not when we celebrate Yom Kippur, with whose family will we break fast?Â We need to start from more basic questions: Will we celebrate Yom Kippur?Â Will we both fast? And now that we have kids, how will we celebrate with our kids?
This inability to assume, and therefore the need to have an intention about our practice, is one of the greatest things about being from different faiths. In my marriage and co-parenting, I think this sometimes gives us a leg up, and its something that I wish was celebrated more.
When my husband and I were first thinking about marriage, we went to meet with a rabbi who ran a course for interfaith couples. Before he told us about the class, he asked us if we thought weâ€™d have a Jewish home. We told him we thought so, but we hadnâ€™t figured everything out yet. With this in mind, he recommended that rather than taking his interfaith class, we take his Intro to Judaism class, to figure out if we were going to be an interfaith family or a Jewish family (he had marriage classes for both).
So we took the class. It was a great class. We learned that we loved to study together.Â And the class triggered a long series of conversations, about what holidays we wanted to celebrate, and how, about how we imagined marking life cycle events, and, at the core, about what it meant that we would create a home and life together, a nuclear family that melded the two individual histories we brought to the coupledom.
[As an aside, InterfaithFamily has a great online workshop for interfaith couples called "Love & Religion" that you can learn more about here.]
This is where the â€śleg upâ€ť comes to bear. All pairings, whether you were raised next door to one another or in different countries, bring two separate perspectives on life to the table when they marry. In an interfaith pairing, the separation between the perspectives is pronounced, highlighted by the difference in two easy to identify components of family history. This can be a gift â€“ a gift in that the differences shout out to us, and demand attention. For Eric and me, it meant the dialogue about how â€śheâ€ť and â€śIâ€ť would become â€śweâ€ť started before our engagement, before we were thrown into trying to make a wedding that was fun for everyone (it was!), building a home together, and raising kids. It demanded a way to talk about things, to identify difference, and to navigate it.
Iâ€™m not saying weâ€™re perfect at it, but sometimes in same-faith couples, the differences are subtle, and they whisper until they need attention, often coming as a surprise. While our life together is not without our share of these surprises, I am thankful, particularly as we try to parent a 4-year-old who is as strong-willed and self-determined as I know I was at 4, that the interfaith dynamic of our relationship made negotiating differences a part of our life and commitment from day one.
Being interfaith is often talked about as a challenge, a barrier that separates you from the rest of the community. While I won’t deny the challenges, I think perhaps we have a few positive things we can teach to those who “in-marry.” Can you name some others?
My maternal great-grandparents standing outside of their Conservative synagogue with my grandmother and great-uncle.
My name is Jane Larkin and Iâ€™m excited to be one of the new writers for InterfaithFamilyâ€™s parenting blog. Iâ€™m the Jewish half of an interfaith couple creating a Jewish home. I live in Dallas, TX with my husband Cameron and eight-year-old son Sammy. Cameron lives Jewishly and is actively involved in raising Sammy within Judaism. But this isnâ€™t my whole story.
As a Jewish young adult, I always assumed I would marry a Jew and I did. But after two years the marriage ended in divorce. The relationship failed because I married for religion, not love. I wanted to prove to my family that I could in-marry, which is not the best criteria for choosing a mate.
The fact that in-marriage was important to my family was ironic since I came from a family in which intermarriage and Jewish continuity had co-existed for generations. My subsequent intermarriage was just following in my familyâ€™s footsteps.
My maternal great-grandmother was not Jewish when she married my great-grandfather in the 1920s. She never converted, but lived her life as a Jew within Conservative Judaism and raised Jewish children â€“ one being my maternal grandmother.
My grandmother was married to the son of an Orthodox cantor by a prominent Conservative rabbi in the 1940s when no denomination recognized patrilineal descent. My grandmotherâ€™s religious lineage was kept secret since it was known that neither she nor her future children would be accepted as Jews. Still, my grandfatherâ€™s Orthodox parents accepted the match recognizing that inclusiveness was a good investment in a Jewish future.
My father also came from an interfaith home. His mother was not Jewish, but she too created a Jewish home and supported Jewish family life. My dad became a bar mitzvah in the 1950s at a Conservative synagogue that his father helped to build.
What all of this interfaith family history means is that technically, my family is not Jewish even though we have practiced and identified as Jews for generations. I often wonder how many other Jews have interfaith DNA in their genealogical closet. I suspect that there are others that choose to keep their religious lineage a secret even though families like mine are now recognized as Jewish by the Reform and Reconstructionist movements.
So this is my family’s interfaith and Jewish story. I hope that by sharing it that you will be encouraged to share yours too.
A family member of my husbandâ€™s, whom Iâ€™ll call Devorah, recently told me that although I may have converted,Â ”you will never think like a Jew.” At the time I didnâ€™t say anything. This woman is an elder and I respect her opinion. But later I kept running that sentence through my head, and I realized it struck a nerve. Is she right? As an adult convert, will I never â€śthinkâ€ť like a Jew? And by extension, will my children never think like Jews, either?
After ruminating for days, I decided to ask my husband about Devorah’s comment.Â He explained that Devorah believed that I converted out of a sense of duty to him, rather than on my own terms. I thought back to my conversion process and it struck me: I had kept the process intensely private, and I sat before the beit din (rabbinic court) and had my mikveh (ritual bath) only one week before my son was born. In Devorahâ€™s mind, I was Jewish for the sake of my children.
Rather than being upset with an elderly relative with whom I had never explained my conversion process, I realized that I needed to work on becoming comfortable discussing my beliefs and my very real reasons for converting. And I needed to be discussing it with both my non-Jewish relatives and my husbandâ€™s Jewish ones. This will be difficult for me. I came from a family where we didnâ€™t discuss faith or religion, and we certainly didnâ€™t discuss individual belief in the context of religious doctrine. My discomfort with discussing faith is rooted in not having any prior experience talking about it, and I have to explore how to do that. Additionally, I need to learn to share my beliefs with my children and teach them to verbalize what they believe. Not because I want them to fit into any particular doctrine, but because I never want a comment like â€śyou donâ€™t think like a Jewâ€ť to silence them.
As everyone who is reading this already knows, December is probably the most stressful/crazy/anxiety-ridden time of the year. Or at least thatâ€™s what everyone wants you to feel. Especially if you are intermarried or if you grew up in an interfaith family. The questions â€“ What are you doing for the holidays? Do you have a tree? Do your kids believe in Santa? Do your kids get presents for both holidays? Maybe itâ€™s because I have been intermarried for 10 years and have had kids for the last 7, but thankfully I do not have a dilemma in December. This is due to my amazing husband, in-laws and extended family and because we really did and continue to do the work to secure this non-dilemma situation during this crazy time of the year. We celebrate Chanukah in our house and Christmas at my in-laws and extended family. We each have our own menorah and bring it with us when the holidays overlap. We have a great time and so do our kids. While my in-laws celebrate Christmas as a truly religious one, we celebrate it as a truly fun day or two to spend with family â€“ exchange gifts â€“ and eat cinnamon buns.
The first year we were married, and I didnâ€™t observe my familyâ€™s Jewish Christmas tradition of going to the movies and going out for Chinese food â€“ unique, I know – I was completely overwhelmed by the gifts. My in-laws are completely non-materialistic people so that made me even more taken aback. Chanukah in my family was one nice gift and a bunch of little things for the rest of the seven nights. Thankfully after we had kids, the bulk of the presents went to them â€“ rightfully so â€“ but I still havenâ€™t been able to make my own peace with all of the presents. Even today, I went to Macyâ€™s in our local mall for a Chanukah Family Fest and was simply in shock at how many people were at the mall and all of the shopping bags they were walking out with. Not that I am anti-gifts â€“ my kids would never forgive me for that. In fact, I am done with my shopping and I bought almost all of the gifts at non-commercial places like independent toy stores and book stores â€“ crowds make me a little crazy plus I am a bad decision-maker so smaller stores with fewer options work out better for me.
The first couple of years with our kids at Christmas, I was slightly adamant about their gifts being wrapped in non-Christmas paper: something wintery was fine â€“ snowflakes or snowmen â€“ and I definitely didnâ€™t want any gifts from Santa â€“ only from Grammy & Poppy. I am beyond grateful that my in-laws respected my wishes â€“ and humored me. I also feel that my husband and I have done our job as parents for the other 364 days out of the year so one day is not going to make a lasting impact in their identity.
Now our 7 year old is the one asking questions â€“ Why arenâ€™t stores decorated for Chanukah? Why do only people who celebrate Christmas put up lights in their yard? Why do more people celebrate Christmas than Chanukah? Is Santa real? My husband and I try to answer these questions with simple yet truthful answers and in a way to let him know that we know these things can be hard to understand. The Santa one is the hardest because it is such an honest question and one that we donâ€™t want him to ruin for his friends – kind of like the tooth fairy. Itâ€™s a tough one â€“ what do you tell your kids?
My son, thank G-d, was born September 13, 2011. Eight days later was his Brit Milah, his circumcision. He was so good. He slept. I cried.
The Mohel included my husband in the ceremony. We recited a beautiful prayer, asking G-d for help in parenting, for helping our son live a wonderful life and of course thanking G-d for our son.
My husband gave a beautiful speech after the ceremony. He explained how he had asked his mom, on her death bed, that she ask Hashem (G-d) for a bit of help as we were having trouble conceiving. He said he learned that when you believe, good things can happen. I know he was talking about Hashem, G-d. I have to say my husband has a strong belief in G-d, he always believed we would have a child, even when I was ready to give up, even when I stopped keeping Shabbos, my husband kept saying, “don’t worry, you’ll see”.
I am so grateful for my son, and for my husband.
Shabbos candelighting is in a few hours (so early!) and now I continue to pray for guidance in parenting. For patience. That my son have a beautiful, long, healthy and safe life. And I thank G-d for my son. I really should also be thanking G-d for my husband a bit more. My husband, even though he isn’t Jewish, has taught me a lot about what it means to have Emunah and Bitachon in Hashem – Faith and Trust in G-d.
I am another one of the fab parenting bloggers. I am actually a parent in waiting… due in 3 days! (Will baby be on time? That’s a different story.)
I am Jewish and grew up mostly culturally Jewish. We had three sets of dishes in the house, milk, meat and treif. We went to my grandparents’ for Shabbos (by car) and the synagogue was reserved for High Holidays.
My husband is not Jewish. He grew up… well, kind of non-denominational. Technically Catholic, his parents forced Sunday school on him in his early years but then they weren’t committed to any religion.
After much research and discussion, my husband and I have decided to raise our little guy as a Jew. Add to this journey, that I have been growing more observant, in that I have been actually keeping Shabbat (no driving, no electricity). My husband has agreed to follow suit once the little one is here (to avoid confusion).
How will this all work out? Don’t know. But I do have a lot of questions!
P.S. You can read some of my articles describing my spiritual journey on InterfaithFamily.com