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    jHUB is your local resource for connecting to other interfaith families and Jewish life in Greater Cleveland. Rabbi Melinda Mersack, director, is available to individuals, couples, and families in the Greater Cleveland area to talk about issues, introduce you to interfaith family-friendly activities and organizations, and to personally help you find Jewish clergy for officiation at life cycle events. Contact her at mmersack@jecc.org or 216-371-0446, x232.

    Melinda Mersack
    Rabbi Melinda Mersack

 
Greater Cleveland

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jHUB provides new ways for interfaith couples and families to comfortably explore, discover and personalize the meaning of Jewish culture and values in the modern world. We are here to help you navigate life's challenges in a comfortable place - at your own pace. We aren't big on labels at jHUB. Our goal isn't to find the right box for you to fit into. We just want to hear your story. There's no pressure. Just a cup of coffee and a conversation. It's a great way to get to know you better and to help connect you to what you may be seeking.



Please contact Rabbi Melinda Mersack, director, who is always looking for new program ideas and would be glad to meet you!

Upcoming Cleveland Programs and Events:

For Upcoming Cleveland Programs and Events visit our Eventbrite page or our Facebook page.

A Taste of Judaism®

Everyone is welcome to this free 3-session class for beginners - Jewish or not - that explores the topics of Jewish spirituality, ethics and community values. Classes are taught by a rabbi and offered on both the West and East sides of Cleveland.

A Feast of Judaism®

The perfect follow up to A Taste of Judaism®. A free six-week session class that explores the Jewish life cycle events, holidays, and Israel. Taught by a rabbi, the classes are designed for those with little or no previous knowledge of Judaism. Offered on both the West and East sides of Cleveland.

Intro to Judaism

Explore Jewish observance of the holidays and life-cycle events, major periods in Jewish history, and significant Jewish concepts through lecture, engaging text study, meaningful dialogue, and exploration of the Greater Cleveland Jewish community. Class will be taught in three – six week blocks with a different rabbinic instructor for each block.

For more information on these and other learning opportunities in Greater Cleveland, please contact Rabbi Melinda Mersack at mmersack@jecc.org or 216-371-0446, x232.

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Agudath B'nai Israel
Synagogue
Lorain, OH
44053 United States
2 Members
Greater Cleveland

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Anshe Chesed Fairmount Temple
Synagogue
Beachwood, OH
44122 United States
2 Members
Greater Cleveland

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B'nai Jeshurun Congregation
Synagogue
Pepper Pike, OH
44124 United States
2 Members
Greater Cleveland

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Beth Israel West Temple
Synagogue
Cleveland, OH
44111 United States
3 Members
Greater Cleveland

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Both Sides of the Family
Arts & Culture -
Chagrin Falls, OH
44022 United States
7 Members
Greater Cleveland

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Congregation Shaarey Tikvah
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Beachwood, OH
44122 United States
2 Members
Greater Cleveland

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Gross Schechter Day School
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Pepper Pike, OH
44124 United States
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Greater Cleveland

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Rabbi Samantha Kahn 10-18-17

Mean girls

“The organized Jewish community is nothing more than the mean girls from high school.”

What?! I think I literally stopped breathing for a moment. Could it be true? I knew this lovely person across from me believed what she was saying. So I wondered, “Could this community that brings me so much joy and comfort be unknowingly treating some individuals as though they are lesser than?”

Feeling compelled to learn the truth, I started asking around: Does the community ever look at you with eyes of judgment instead of acceptance; act unwelcoming to otherÂ’s differences; create distinctions and groupings—with some in and some out? Holy sh*t! Organized Jewish community can be just like the mean girls to those who don’t fit its idea of what normative participants should look like. And this realization now drives my work as director of InterfaithFamily/Bay Area.

Yes, it might stem from our own inner fears about our future, but the Jewish community can be the worst kind of mean kids. We can make others feel unaccepted, unimportant and unwelcome; and then we pretend itÂ’s all in their minds.

Every day. Every year. We look at interfaith families and, sometimes purposefully and sometimes accidentally, with both verbal and nonverbal ques, we question their presence, their legitimacy and their worth.

Since beginning my work with IFF a few months ago, I have heard several painstaking revelations from a large variety of individuals, some Jewish, some who love Jews and some who are raising Jews. Each of these souls sat with me and shared deep pain. This pain came from the words and actions of clergy, staff, lay leaders and other participants in the congregations, schools and organizations these families looked to for community. One told me, “I had never experienced discrimination until I tried to embed myself in the Jewish community.” And another said, “Whatever I do, whatever I say—it’s never enough. They’ll never accept me.”

Obviously, this is hard to hear. Some of you are probably thinking it doesnÂ’t apply to you, or your congregation, your organization. If only that were true.

Even while trying to be welcoming, many Jewish institutions still make interfaith families feel as though they’re lacking. We embrace them, to a point. Welcome them in, but speak about how their choices are flawed or problematic. As one person told me, “Conditional welcoming is not welcoming.” Or another who told me that welcoming her, while subtly pushing conversion, made her feel like her congregation was saying she wasn’t welcome as she was. Or as she put it, “It’s like they said, go ahead and lose 10 pounds and then we’ll hang out with you.”

Or we institute a don’t-ask-don’t-tell policy inviting everyone in, but offering unwritten rules that things such as Christmas trees should never be spoken about out loud. We say, just come: Everyone is welcome as you are, but then in an effort to not make distinctions between people we fail to provide proper instruction or explanation to the masses. As one mother told me, “It’s like I asked how to get to the kiddie pool and I was thrown into the deep end, with no life jacket.”

I have been blown away by the stories IÂ’ve heard and the judgment some of our families and couples feel. And I am a rabbi who works for a Jewish organization. If people are interacting with me, they are trying. They are choosing to engage with Judaism and Jewish community enough that theyÂ’re at the dinner table with me.

Even a Jewish family, raising Jewish children, embracing Jewish community is accustomed to disrespectful comments and glances if they are intercultural, interracial or if one hasn’t formally converted to Judaism. Even though they are committed to Judaism in their home, they may receive strange looks and questions that imply we believe they are secretly turning their children away from Judaism. Let me clarify – they are not.

There are interfaith families in every congregation who are active Jewish community members and who, whether you know it or not, never converted. They are members of our religious school committee and regular service attendees. They are devoted to their family’s Jewish identity, even if they themselves are from different faith backgrounds. I fear we hurt these incredible souls the most, for they hear all of the unguarded and offhand comments which denigrate interfaith couples. As one person told me, “The part I don’t normally tell people is that it wasn’t a stranger who said it to me, it was a friend. A friend. I couldn’t respond. I couldn’t speak.”

When will these Jewish families feel like theyÂ’re not second-class citizens? Only when we stop treating them as such.

I get that this feels complicated and painful. I understand loving Judaism so much that you only want what’s best for her future. Here’s the thing—nothing excuses causing another pain. We need to love Judaism enough to know she will offer beautiful and wonderful lessons and rituals that will enrich people’s lives. That’s how Judaism will thrive through generations, not by shutting doors and creating barriers.

If we really want to be good Jews, weÂ’ll remember to welcome our guests (hachnasat orchim), to prioritize love (ahavah) and respect (kavod), to offer respectful communication (shmirat halashon), to support creating peace in the home (shalom bayit) and loving our neighbors as ourselves (vÂ’ahavta lÂ’reacha kamocha).

May we always elevate the values of knowing a whole person (kaf zechut), of offering explanations and choosing our words wisely so as not to embarrass or leave anyone out (lo levayesh) and may we never gossip or insult (lo lashon hara), whether we believe they may hear us or not.

If we embrace who our tradition truly wants us to be, the members of the organized Jewish community will transform from mean girls to ambassadors. We will offer guidance, excitement, connection and true community. When we use our hearts for love, true welcome will flow forth.


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Laura Rose 10-18-17
bride with mom, dad, and sisters in purple dresses with bouquets

Laura’s parents and sisters

Laura's sister putting on her veil

A few weeks ago, I posted some pictures from our honeymoon along with an account of my first Yom Kippur fasting with my new husband. But, you may ask, how was the wedding? It was the event I’ve been planning and dreaming about for the past year-and-a-half that has taken my sweat and tears (thankfully no blood) for its own. And, it went off without a hitch.

Well, not entirely, but the few mishaps that did occur happened before the wedding day, which is a blur. I woke up on Saturday morning and went with my mom to our local church. It was bittersweet, because I had always assumed I would be married in that church, but it was a wonderful way to start the day—thoughtfully and peacefully in God’s presence. The monsignor at the parish even remembered about the wedding and announced it at the end of mass, extending the community’s prayers and good wishes for the day, and for our marriage.

When we got home, the whirlwind of preparations started—hair, makeup, dress and jewelry. My bridesmaids (my two sisters), my maid of honor (Sarah, my college-and-beyond friend) and my parents were all getting ready with me at my parents’ house, which made it really lovely, and about as relaxed as I could be. Before I knew it, the photographer was at the house and ready to take photos! I had lived my whole pre-adult life in this house, so having the photos at home was really important to me. The photographer was able to capture the importance of the house and my family in her photos.

On the way to the venue, I was so nervous and excited—more nervous than I’d been about almost anything else in my life. We got into the bridal suite for a few minutes to cool down with a glass of water before the ceremony started. In the bridal suite, there was a card and gift waiting for me from Zach. He had written me a beautiful message, and gifted me a mezuzah he had gotten on one of his trips to Israel (before which I had bugged him to get a mezuzah for the house and was puzzled why he’d never brought one home after the trip. Patience is not my strong suit.) Needless to say, it made me cry, and centered me in a way, knowing that the Zach I know and love was waiting for me a few (long) moments away.

Laura sitting and waiting for the ceremony to begin

Waiting in the tent for the ceremony to begin

The ceremony was also a blur, but what surprised me was the number of people who came up to us during the reception to tell us it was one of the most beautiful wedding ceremonies they had ever been to. People were really impressed with the way we seamlessly blended our two traditions, chose readings and readers that were meaningful to us, and included prayers that signified our desire to build a better world. I posted about the ceremony here, but the highlights are:

  • Two readings, one from the New Testament and one from the Old Testament
  • Recitation of vows and exchange of rings
  • The Seven Blessings, led by our fathers and culminating in the sharing of the wine using a goblet that ZachÂ’s mother, Roberta, made
  • General Intercessions, which include prayers for the broader community
  • Benediction and breaking of the glass (which went everywhere but the napkin it was wrapped in)

Fr. Mike and Rabbi Bleefeld give a blessing

Before I knew it, we were walking back down the aisle—married! It definitely took some time to sink in. We took pictures with family, signed the ketubah with the rabbi and headed over to the reception to be introduced as Mr. and Mrs. Zach and Laura Drescher! The reception was a whirlwind of dances, dinner and toasts. We danced our first dance to “Stand By Me,” followed by my dance with my dad and a parents’ dance: Zach dancing with my mom and me dancing with ZachÂ’s dad.

 

As the dance floor filled up, we tried to split our time between dancing and saying hello to folks sitting around the tables in the tent. Honestly, I was surprised at how quickly it went by and how little we got to see each individual person (we had about 100 people). I would start talking with one person, and then be pulled away to take a picture, or hit the dance floor, or say hi to another guest… It was so wonderful to be surrounded by all of the people we love. That was my favorite part of the day—having all of the people who have played different roles in our lives, and seen different parts of our stories, come together to celebrate this new chapter with us.

Before the wedding, Zach was lobbying hard for us to do something after the wedding—a party, a bar, something. I was pretty adamant that we would both be exhausted, but we left the door open for an informal option. When the reception wound down, I was surprised to find I had a lot of energy—I felt like I didnÂ’t want the night to end! We decided to go with some friends to a bar near the hotel, just for one drink…which turned into three. It was surreal, to be in a bar, still in my wedding dress, catching up with old friends from college. It was a great opportunity to see some of the people who weÂ’d barely had a chance to say hello to at the wedding and IÂ’m so glad we took the opportunity to spend more time with friends who had traveled to spend the day with us.

The next morning we hosted a brunch at the hotel for our families, because many of them had traveled far to attend the wedding and we wanted another opportunity to hang out with them. It was a great continuation of the joy and celebration from the day before. Those who weren’t flying out were invited back to my parents’ house for an “open house”—drinks, sandwiches, etc.—during the afternoon. We got to see more family members there, said goodbye to our maid of honor and best man, and eventually wound down from the excitement of the wedding. It was wonderful to end the wedding weekend right where I’d started it—in my parents’ house, among family and friends. The only difference was, I was now married!

The cake

The new Mr. and Mrs. Zach and Laura Drescher!


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Rabbi Robyn Frisch 10-17-17

Every religion and culture has its unique ritual objects and garments that are part of wedding ceremonies. When planning for your Jewish interfaith wedding you will want to consider which to include. You may choose to include ritual objects and garments from multiple traditions or just Jewish ones. We will explain some of the Jewish ones here.

The Chuppah (Jewish Wedding Canopy)

A chuppah (sometimes spelled “huppah”) is a Jewish wedding canopy with four open sides. Jewish wedding ceremonies typically occur under a chuppah, and this tradition offers great opportunities for interfaith couples to integrate elements from multiple traditions.

A basic chuppah looks like a square piece of fabric supported by four poles. The poles stand on the ground and are often held upright by friends of the couple. The poles can also be free-standing and decorated with flowers. Couples can make their own chuppah, use a synagogue’s or rent one. There should be enough space under the chuppah for the couple, clergy and a small table for ritual items like wine glasses.

The chuppah symbolizes the coupleÂ’s home. The ancient rabbis compared it to the tent of the biblical Abraham, who was famed for his hospitality; his tent had entrances on all four sides to signal a message of welcome to travelers coming from any direction.

Making or decorating a chuppah offers opportunities to include various traditions in the wedding. Partners who are not Jewish can include materials and patterns representing their heritage in the chuppah cloth cover. Some couples use a family heirloom, such as a grandfather’s tallit (prayer shawl; more on this below) or a prized family tablecloth (from Irish culture), as the chuppah covering.

The costs of making your own chuppah can be modest, especially if you keep things simple. You can get everything you need in one trip to a building supplies store for $100 or less (www.apracticalwedding.com has a great DIY page called How to build a chuppah). Prefab kits available online run from about $130 to $250. Rental costs vary but are often under $100. The website huppahs.com rents different styles of chuppot (plural of chuppah) as well as canopies and poles if you only need one or the other.

Two Cups of Wine/Grape Juice

A typical Jewish wedding ceremony includes two cups of wine (or grape juice). Wine is a Jewish symbol of joy. (Learn more about how these two cups fit into the wedding ceremony.) You can use any cups or glasses for this purpose; however, these cups offer an opportunity to include elements from both familiesÂ’ histories or traditions. Also, try using white wine or juice just in case of spills during the ceremony.

Some couples use only kosher certified wine or grape juice. Most rabbis who officiate at interfaith weddings donÂ’t require kosher wine. The rationale behind what makes wine kosher goes back to very ancient times when Jews were concerned that wine they might buy in the marketplace could have been ritually dedicated to the polytheistic gods of their neighbors. Today, most liberal Jews donÂ’t check whether wine is kosher, but some choose to buy kosher wine for weddings in order to support the industry, or in case they have guests who only drink kosher wine.

A Glass to Break

Most Jewish and interfaith weddings end with one (or sometimes both) partners smashing a glass (for an explanation of the meanings, see Elements of a Jewish Wedding Ceremony from our Guide to Weddings for Interfaith Couples). You can use any glass for this purpose. Just make sure itÂ’s thin and will break easily. Wrap the glass in a cloth or put it in a cloth drawstring bag to avoid injury from the broken shards.

Some couples use shops like Mazel Tov Glass or Traditions Jewish Gifts that provide kits which allow you to send them the broken glass shards, which they then make into artistic keepsakes.

 What to Wear at a Jewish Interfaith Wedding

There really arenÂ’t any rules here. You can have a very casual wedding or a very formal one. There are some traditional ritual garments that one or both partners may want to wear including a kippah, tallit, kittel and veil.

A kippah (Jewish head covering, a.k.a. “yarmulke”) is traditionally worn by Jewish men, but sometimes by women too. Either or both partners can don a kippah for the wedding. You can also request that your guests wear kippot (plural of kippah)—you don’t need to be Jewish to wear one—though if you do you’ll want to provide them with some. You can order from wholesalers like www.kippot.com and spend anywhere from $50 to a few hundred dollars (for personalized embossed kippot). You can also support fair trade by ordering kippot through Jewish United for Justice.

Jewish partners, particularly men, sometimes like to wear a tallit (ritual fringed prayer shawl) during their wedding. In traditional Judaism, the tallit symbolizes the commandments of the Torah and the enveloping and protective presence of the Divine, though not all Jews who wear a tallit practice traditional Jewish lives. Wearing a tallit that belonged to a deceased relative, for instance, can add meaning. Some people take the opportunity of getting married to buy themselves a new tallit that they plan to use in the future, perhaps in the hope of passing it down to future generations.

A kittel is a ritual garment that is typically worn by more traditional grooms. A kittel is a belted white robe, usually made of linen, symbolizing purity. The kittel, which is worn by married men on Yom Kippur, is also used as a burial shroud.

Finally, some brides wear a bridal veil (and at same-sex weddings, sometimes both partners do). In a traditional Jewish wedding, before the ceremony, there is a ritual that takes place called Bedecken, which means “checking to be certain.” In heterosexual weddings, this involves the groom putting a wedding veil on the bride shortly before the ceremony. The groom gets to “verify” that the bride is in fact the person he means to marry. There’s a lovely version of this ritual for lesbian weddings here.

More resources:

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Rabbi Robyn Frisch 10-17-17

One of the first decisions a couple has to make in planning for their wedding ceremony is who will officiate.  When planning a Jewish wedding incorporating multiple faith backgrounds, you have a number of options as to who can be your officiant. You may choose to have solely Jewish clergy (a rabbi or cantor—for the sake of simplicity, we will just refer to “rabbis” from now on, but note that most cantors can officiate just as a rabbi can); to have Jewish clergy co-officiate with a clergy member of a different faith; or not to have clergy at all.

Jewish Clergy Only

If you want to have Jewish clergy officiate your wedding ceremony, there are some things you should know. While Reform, Reconstructionist and Renewal rabbis are permitted to officiate interfaith wedding ceremonies, not all do so, and some who do have certain conditions that must be met in order for them to officiate. Conservative and Orthodox rabbis, on the other hand, are not permitted to officiate interfaith weddings. This means that you or your partner may have a rabbi you grew up with that you had always dreamed would officiate your wedding ceremony and they may not be allowed to officiate interfaith weddings, may choose not to do so or may not be comfortable officiating the type of wedding you are planning.

The best way to find out if a rabbi is able and willing to officiate your wedding ceremony is to inform them of your plans and to ask if they can and will officiate. If a rabbi you know isnÂ’t able to officiate, or if you donÂ’t have a relationship with a rabbi, then InterfaithFamilyÂ’s Jewish clergy referral service is a resource that can help. Just visit www.interfaithfamily.com/findarabbi and fill out the officiation request form, and we’ll email you, free of charge, a curated list of rabbis and cantors in your area who are likely to be a good fit for the type of wedding youÂ’re planning. We also refer Jewish clergy that may be willing to travel.

Jewish Clergy Co-officiate with Clergy of Another Faith

Most rabbis and cantors who officiate interfaith weddings are not willing to co-officiate with clergy of another faith, though the number who will do so is growing. If you’re using InterfaithFamilyÂ’s clergy referral service and you’re looking for a rabbi to co-officiate, please check the appropriate box on the online form.

Good, clear communication is essential when working with two officiants. Many clergy (of any faith) who are willing to co-officiate may have conditions for doing so, and some will want to make case-specific decisions about what they are comfortable doing. Good communication between the officiants, and between you and both officiants, is crucial so that no one feels blindsided or misunderstood. Some rabbis who co-officiate will recommend specific local clergy of other faiths with whom they enjoy working.

Wedding Ceremonies Without Clergy

You can choose to get married without having a rabbi or cantor, or any other clergy for that matter. Hiring a justice of the peace, judge or non-denominational officiant are all options. You can also arrange to have a friend deputized by the state to act as your officiant. Good communication is key when working with officiants who may be unfamiliar with the family dynamics or other issues sometimes in play in interfaith weddings.

If you decide to go this route, there are many resources you can consult to incorporate Jewish ritual and cultural elements into your ceremony. See the Sample ceremonies and definitions for wedding programs section of IFF’s Jewish Wedding Guide for Interfaith Couples for some good ideas.

Questions to Ask Clergy and Clergy Fees

You should feel free to ask any questions of the clergy you contact, including questions about fees. It is important to feel comfortable with someone before you make the commitment to have them join in your special day.

Your first conversation with a prospective officiant is your “interview,” and it’s your main opportunity to discern whether this person is a good fit for you and your partner. Here are some questions you may want to ask:

  1. Are you willing to work with us to craft the content of the ceremony, and do you have limitations on how flexible youÂ’re willing to be about the ceremony? (For example, if youÂ’re a couple that prefers little to no God language, this is the time to ask.)
  2. What do you charge for a fee, and when do you need to be paid? Do you use a letter of agreement?
  3. How much time are you willing to spend with us and/or members of our family if there are important issues or family dynamics that require sensitivity?
  4. How far are you willing to travel to a wedding venue, and what travel reimbursement might you need?
  5. How would you describe your approach to working with interfaith couples?
  6. Do you have ritual limitations or restrictions that we might not be aware of?
  7. How much Hebrew and English can we expect in the service, and how do you work to help guests who arenÂ’t Jewish feel included?
  8. Do you do dress rehearsals?
  9. Do you have references we can contact (i.e. other couples)?

As for fees, Jewish clergy fees vary greatly (and are often greater than the fees of clergy of other faiths) though generally they fall somewhere between $500 – $1,500, depending on many variables. Fees may include travel costs, or reflect the amount of necessary pre-marital work. They also vary by region. Many rabbis and cantors offer a sliding scale if finances are an obstacle—donÂ’t be afraid to ask for a fee reduction if this is a factor.

HereÂ’s whatÂ’s going into the fee: Rabbis bring years of seminary training into their work with couples, and often spend considerable time preparing the wedding ceremony according to the specific needs of each couple. In interfaith weddings, rabbis work with each unique couple to craft a sensitive, respectful and meaningful ceremony that strives to balance the aesthetics of Jewish ritual with the need for some cultural translation for family members and guests of other faiths.

When they hire a rabbi, couples are choosing to pay for a professional to create a sacred moment that they will remember forever. ItÂ’s useful to think about the clergy fee alongside the other costs associated with weddings today. The expertise and care couples look for in a wedding cake, a DJ or a photographer all come with fees, and clergy also need to make a living.

Finally, for co-officiated weddings, remember to include clergy fees for both officiants in your budget.

More Resources:


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Rabbi Robyn Frisch 10-17-17

A Jewish wedding has two major sections: erusin (betrothal) and nissuin (marriage). The central part of erusin is the exchange of rings. The central part of nissuin is the seven wedding blessings. Though erusin and nissuin were originally two separate ceremonies, they now take place one immediately after the other, and together they make up the Jewish wedding ceremony. There are many ways to personalize your wedding ceremony and include elements from other religious traditions. As with all aspects of your wedding ceremony, you should discuss with your officiant what you do and donÂ’t want to include in your ceremony.

Processional

There are no set Jewish rules regarding the processional, just customs, so the processional offers interfaith couples a great opportunity to weave in traditions from other faiths or include other cultural elements.

In traditional Jewish weddings the entire wedding party processes down the aisle, with the rabbi going first or simply starting the ceremony waiting at the chuppah (wedding canopy—you can read more about the chuppah here). In heterosexual weddings, the processional typically continues with the groomsmen walking single file, followed by the best man, and then the groom with parents on either side of him. Then the bridesmaids walk single file, followed by the maid or matron of honor, and then any other members of the wedding party (flower girls, ring bearer, etc.). Finally, the bride processes with parents on either side. It is traditional for the bride and her parents to stop before arriving at the chuppah and for the groom to walk to the bride, and then walk together with her under the chuppah. Under the chuppah, the bride stands to the groom’s right (which is the reverse of traditional Christian or American weddings).

In same-sex weddings, and in many Jewish heterosexual weddings, couples use various processional configurations.

Music for the processional usually includes pre-processional music, to which the grandparents process, a piece chosen for all the attendants including ringbearer and flowergirl. The bride and her parents usually come in to another piece of music. Traditional wedding marches including WagnerÂ’s “Here Comes the Bride” are not typically used in weddings with Jewish families/guests due to the musicians’ association with anti-Semitism and the Holocaust. Like all details of the wedding, be sure to clear music choices with your officiant(s) and family members.

Circling

Most liberal rabbis offer couples the choice of whether or not to include circling in their wedding ceremony. Many modern couples adapt this ritual to make it egalitarian, with each partner circling the other. A typical mutual-circling ritual would see one partner circle the other three times in a clockwise manner, followed by the other circling the first one three times in a counter-clockwise manner. They then complete one last circle together. Some modern couples view circling as a symbol of the way they’ll define the home space for the couple, each seeing themselves responsible for protecting and supporting the other.

The circling is usually done while music is playing, before the couple enter under the chuppah together.

The First Cup of Wine

After a brief welcome, the ceremony typically begins with a blessing of the first of two cups of wine (or grape juice). In Judaism, wine is a symbol of joy. In a traditional Jewish wedding, a second blessing is also recited before the couple sips the wine. This blessing is called birkat erusin. To learn about birkat erusin, click here.

After reciting the blessing(s) the rabbi invites the couple to sip from the cup. Traditionally, in a heterosexual wedding, the rabbi gives the cup of wine to the groom, who sips from it, and then the cup is presented to the bride, who sips from it.

The Ring Ceremony

In liberal Jewish communities, both partners give each other a wedding ring to symbolize their love and commitment. When exchanging rings, each partner recites a verse expressing their commitment to one another. The exchange of rings completes the first part of the wedding ceremony.

The ring ceremony is a good time for couples to exchange vows with each other—something that isn’t part of a traditional Jewish ceremony, but which many couples like to include. Additionally, some couples like to write something personal that they can each say to the other when exchanging rings.

Traditionally, there are no “I Do’s” in a Jewish wedding ceremony. However, if you want to have your officiant ask, for example, if you “promise to love, honor and cherish” your partner, and then respond “I Do,” you should ask your officiant if this is something they are comfortable with. To read a blog about one couple who wanted to say “I Do” in their wedding ceremony, click here.

See sample ring ceremonies here.

The Seven Blessings and the Second Cup of Wine

The second part of the ceremony typically begins with the seven wedding blessings, which includes the second blessing of the wine. The seven blessings give thanks for the joys of love, intimacy and marriage, for the creation of humanity and for the communityÂ’s happiness.

Most Jewish officiants sing the blessings in the original Hebrew and translate each blessing into English. These blessings are ancient, and a lot of contemporary couples prefer to use modern creative translations. Also, the original wording of the blessings refers only to heterosexual weddings. Creative Jewish liturgists have written modified versions of these blessings, in Hebrew and in English, which honor same-sex weddings.

The first of the seven blessings is the blessing over a second cup of wine, and after all of the blessings are recited the couple is invited to take a sip.

After the seven blessings, some rabbis will recite another set of traditional blessings. These words, known as the “priestly blessings,” ask God to bless and protect, enlighten and give peace to the couple. Some rabbis will ask if the couple want to have a tallit (prayer shawl) draped over their shoulders while this blessing is recited. If this is something you would like to do, you should speak to your officiant about it.

Read more about the seven blessings and sample programs here.

Breaking the Glass

Jewish weddings end with the breaking of a glass. In heterosexual weddings, itÂ’s usually the groom who stomps his foot down on a thin glass (wrapped in a cloth for safety), though some couples (heterosexual or same-sex couples) will do it together or break two glasses. Many couples also want to have a kiss at the conclusion of their ceremony, which can fit nicely right before or after the breaking the glass. Here you can see a fun short video taken from a same-sex wedding in which we see both grooms breaking a glass. And in this blog post, a groom tests out breaking a glass before the big day.

Progressive or traditional, religious or secular, Jewish weddings almost always include a breaking of glass at the end of the ceremony. The glass-breaking is typically followed by a communal “Mazel tov!,” which means “good fortune” in Yiddish and is the equivalent of “Congratulations!” In addition to the communal congratulations, Siman Tov u’Mazel Tov is sometimes sung after the breaking of the glass. Watch this video to learn the words.

There are countless interpretations for the tradition of breaking a glass. Some see it as a reminder of the destruction of the First Temple of Jerusalem. Others say it is meant to remind us that marriage is as fragile as glass. It also has been interpreted to demonstrate how life is so fragile that the couple should enjoy every day as if it were their last together.

Read more about breaking the glass here.

Recessional and Alone Time

At the end of the ceremony, couples typically walk back down the aisle, accompanied by music. The recessional can be deliberately “messy,” with the couple heading off down the aisle and then everyone else simply mixing and mingling with the guests, or it can be structured and more formal.

Couples often take time for yichud (seclusion) after the ceremony. This gives couples an opportunity to have a little time to be alone together in a private space immediately following the ceremony. The rabbi may mention, just before the breaking of the glass, that the couple is going to do this, and may offer any other short practical instructions to guests at this point as well. Taking a little time to be alone together before returning to your celebrating guests can be rewarding and grounding.

Including Elements from Other Religious Traditions

Sometimes couples want to include elements of other religious traditions in their Jewish interfaith wedding. There are many options for doing so as well as sensitive issues that may arise. Some couples decide to have separate wedding ceremonies in order to allow both of their traditions to be fully expressed.

For issues specific to Jewish-Christian weddings, click here.

For issues specific to Jewish-Muslim, Jewish-Hindu and Jewish-Buddhist weddings, click here.

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Rabbi Robyn Frisch 10-17-17

What is a Ketubah?

A ketubah is a Jewish marriage contract. In ancient times, a ketubah was a legally binding document, written in Aramaic (the vernacular of the time), describing a groom’s “acquiring” of a bride, and stating the amount that the groom would have to pay the bride in case of a divorce. There’s no mention of God, love or romance in a traditional ketubah. Modern liberal ketubot (plural) are typically spiritual, not legal, covenants between both partners, and ketubot for interfaith and same-sex couples abound. For example, ketubah.com has four different interfaith text options for couples to choose from.

In past generations, the ketubah was a simple document supplied by the rabbi, signed before the ceremony and filed away with the secular marriage certificate. Today, many couples choose  ketubot that have modern texts that they find meaningful and that are also works of art and a visual testament to the love and commitment of the couple. Many interfaith couples choose to have a ketubah and even make it a focal point of their wedding, reading it as part of the ceremony and displaying it on an easel for all their guests to view.

The ketubah text may detail how both partners will share responsibilities and resolve conflicts, the ways they will support and encourage each other throughout life, and/or the values they want to guide their marriage. Some interfaith couples even choose to mention their different religious heritages in their ketubah.

As Aliyah from Ketubah.com notes in her blog post: “The beauty of the modern ketubah is that it can have a text that means something to you personally and as a couple. The original purpose of the ketubah is still there but is elevated to mean more to you as a couple through your modern text.”

Aliyah and Rabbi Robyn Frisch, Director of InterfaithFamily/Philadelphia joined for a Facebook Live about ketubot, which you can watch here.

Where do I find a Ketubah?

Ketubot are usually written in Hebrew and English (though they could be in just one or the other). Some couples choose to customize a ketubah with other languages that are personally meaningful to them. Beautiful customized ketubot have been created with three languages, adding to the Hebrew and English a language such as Chinese, Russian or Spanish.

You may choose to create your own personal ketubah, either because you have in mind a special design for your ketubah or because you’d like to write your own ketubah text—or perhaps both. There are ketubah artists who will work with you if a customized ketubah is your choice. You will need to commit to this process months before your wedding date to give due time to this process.

If you are artistic, you may decide that you want to make your own Ketubah—or you may want to ask an artistic family member or friend to make one for you. To read about how Hannah created her own DIY Ketubah, click here.

For sample language you can use in creating your own ketubah click here.

Regardless of if you are purchasing a ketubah or making one on your own, before you commit to any version of text, you should make sure that it is acceptable to your officiant.

When is the Ketubah Signed?

In most modern Jewish interfaith weddings, the ketubah signing takes place about a half hour before the wedding ceremony in the presence of the two witnesses, the couplesÂ’ immediate family members and the wedding party.

Today, many couples have a “first look” before their wedding ceremony that’s photographed so that they can take pictures together before the wedding ceremony. If that’s the case, then the couple can be together for the ketubah signing. If the couple doesn’t want to see each other before the ceremony, there are different options for how they can sign their ketubah – for example, they can each sign the ketubah in a different location (there’s no requirement that they be in the same room when signing the ketubah) or they can have the ketubah signing at the beginning of the wedding ceremony. If you do not plan to see each other before your wedding ceremony, be sure to discuss with your officiant how and when the ketubah will be signed.

Some couples like to display their ketubot during their wedding reception. One way to do this is to have your ketubah mounted, but not framed (or framed without the glass), or placed in a temporary plastic frame to keep it from getting soiled, before your wedding. The ketubah can then be displayed on an easel during your reception.

After your wedding you can have your ketubah framed and hang it on a wall in your home. This is a great way to remember your special wedding day as well as the commitment youÂ’ve made to one another.

Who signs a Ketubah?

Some couples want to have more than two witnesses sign their ketubah. If you want to do this, you should check with the company you are ordering from or the artist making your ketubah to see if this is possible. You should also get the OK from your officiant.

 Do You Still Need a Marriage License?

A ketubah is not a substitute for a civil marriage license. In order to be married, a couple must have a civil marriage license from the state in which theyÂ’re being married. Some states require that civil marriage documents be signed by witnesses, while other states only require marriage documents to be signed by the officiant. In states that require civil marriage documents to be signed by witnesses, this can be done at the same time that the ketubah is signed, by either the same witnesses or different witnesses.

To learn about obtaining a marriage license in any of the 50 United States, including how much a marriage license costs, which states require a blood test to get married, certified documents you need to bring with you and what you need to know about the United States marriage license laws before applying for your stateÂ’s marriage license application, click here.

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Kristin Posner 10-11-17

As a fourth generation Japanese-American, IÂ’ve often felt my heritage was slipping away from me. I grew up feeling in between the two: not quite Japanese enough or American enough, not really belonging in either category. There have been phases of my life when IÂ’ve embraced being just American or just Japanese. It wasnÂ’t until my conversion and our wedding that I came to realize that there is space for both.

Old family wedding photos

1,001 origami cranes, which we folded with friends and family. They are arranged in the shape of my Mom’s Japanese family crest by Linda Mihara, a San Francisco Japantown origami artist

Historic Congregation Emanu-el, our synagogue and where we held our wedding ceremony

When Bryan and I started dating, I became interested in his Jewish heritage. As things started getting serious, I felt that if we were to spend our lives together I had a responsibility to learn about his heritage too. In many ways, in Judaism I found the sense of belonging, spirituality and sense of community I had been searching for my whole life.

As we embarked on the wedding planning process together, we did what we had just learned to do in my Intro to Judaism class: Question everything! We had decided to marry in the main sanctuary in our synagogue: Did we really need florals in such a grand space? Did we really want to have the traditional bridal party? How did we want to honor the side of my family who grew up in Hawaii? If we were having a Jewish ceremony, how could we incorporate parts of my Japanese heritage in ways that actually felt relevant and authentic to who we are?

Many, many hours were spent on the internet searching for “Japanese and Jewish wedding” ideas. What I discovered was that there were very few examples out there. The other challenge was that no one in my family had ever had a traditional Japanese wedding, so all of the “traditional” elements felt totally foreign to me. When we committed to having a Japanese and Jewish wedding, I don’t think we realized what we were about to take on.

Our beautiful, minimalist watercolor ketubah, by artist Stephanie Kaplan

Bryan smashing the glass

WeÂ’ve been married for over a year now, and I cry tears of gratitude every time I look through our wedding album. Though it was at times a laborious process that required a lot more soul-searching than I had expected, it forced us to define our narrative as a Japanese and Jewish American couple. Unintentionally, it helped us create a solid foundation and made our bond even stronger than I could have ever imagined.

Gathering of our closest friends and immediate families to sign our ketubah

One thing I greatly admire about Bryan is his courage to be vulnerable and share his experience with others, especially if it means it will help them. It’s something that inspires me every day, since I usually prefer to keep things (especially private and sacred moments like our wedding) within my community. I have spent the last year working up the courage to add our wedding to those search results on the internet. My hope is that other mixed race couples might be inspired to incorporate elements of their heritages into their wedding day in ways that may not necessarily be “traditional”, yet feel authentic and true to who they are as a couple.

We asked everyone to join us on the dance floor for our first dance, which led right into the hora

Click here to read more about Kristin and Bryan’s Japanese-Jewish wedding on smashingtheglass.com.


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Amy Beth Starr 10-10-17

Making friends as a grown-up isn’t always easy. When I look at my “mom” friends, we’re mostly bonded through our kids. We spend countless hours at cheerleading, football or any of the myriad extra-curricular activities our kids are involved in, and our friendship is based on the relationships of our children with one another. But sometimes, I feel the need to step out of the comfort zone, try to meet people based on interests *I* have, because even though I’m momming 24/7, there needs to be a chance for ME to connect with, well, me, even when doing the mom thing.

So I decided to bring my 1-year-old to a Sukkot event, knowing full well he wouldn’t be able to participate in making a sukkah out of pretzels, but with the hope that maybe, after five years of living in Maine and still feeling slightly isolated and disconnected Jewishly, that I’d meet some other moms and families. I felt awkward walking into a situation where I knew no one except the group leader (who greeted me warmly), but I was determined to enjoy this new experience and bond over the commonality we all shared. After all, I was walking into a Jewish event, the kids were Jewish, I was Jewish, we were there to celebrate a Jewish holiday—AND we were all clearly parents of small children. I was encouraged; I had hope; let the bonding and mom-friending begin!

Except I left friendless. And feeling even more disconnected than before. It wasn’t a failure of lack of effort. I think I introduced myself to almost every grown-up there, and there had to be at least 30 people between adults and kids. I tried to strike up conversations as I followed my blond-haired blue-eyed toddler around with his monster-like walking (a new trick for his first birthday!). The conversations usually went like this: “Hi, I’m Amy! This is Finn!” (as he would carefully saunter up to a new grown-up to check them out). Said grown-up would respond with their name and ask me if he went to the daycare at the JCC. In my head I responded, “Is that a requirement to talk to me?” but I was there to make friends, right? So instead I gave my canned response, “He’s on the waiting list,” which is a truth, but I wasn’t going to tell them it was because when I was looking for daycare I couldn’t find a place that DIDN’T have a waiting list and it’s possible he’s on a few at this point. The conversation would end each time, almost as if it was a prerequisite for him to be there in order to communicate with me.  Talk about frustrating.

My blonde-haired, blue-eyed Jewish Irish 1-year-old

I wanted to scream at all of them, “If you only knew! If you only knew anything about me! If you only knew my own Jewish connections, my own history, that on Yom Kippur the other day I stood in front of my congregation and chanted Torah, would I be acceptable to talk to then?” I looked around at the group, self-conscious of my blonde toddler in the mix of all the brown-haired kids, with biblical and Hebrew names. Is this what it’s going to be like for him as he grows up? My Jewish, Irish child who has interfaith parents? My Finnian, fitting in with standard white-bread Maine, but not so much in the Jewish community? I found myself surrounded by talk of day school that apparently most children in attendance go to, this rabbi, that rabbi, kids calling their parents eema and abba (Hebrew for mom and dad). And Finn? Oblivious to it all, walking around the sukkah like he owned it, waving and laughing at the kids who mostly ignored him, and picking up brightly colored leaves that had fallen to the ground.

Making mom friends is hard, but I didn’t think being Jewish was also hard. I walked away from the experience wondering if it’s always been like this, that certain status was placed upon you by how you connect Jewishly. And the reality is that in some communities, it truly is. I realized that I used to be one of the “elite” as someone who not only was actively involved in the Jewish community but also WORKED in the Jewish community. I took it for granted that it WAS easy because I was in the mix. But I’m no longer in the mix. And I’m no longer in a Jewish-Jewish family. I’ve now experienced the harshness of being judged based on perceived participation in the organized Jewish community with my blonde-haired kid, and it makes me sad.

As I tucked him into bed when we got home and pulled the green glowstick from the event out of his clenched hand, I wiped schmutz off his face, kissed him and said laila tov (goodnight). If that’s not connecting Jewishly, I don’t know what is. We have a long road ahead of us and I’m just starting to discover how this whole being Jewish thing won’t always be easy, but I’m confident that Finn will grow up knowing who—and what—he is.


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Becky & Olufemi 10-04-17

By Olufemi Sowemimo

Becky and Femi

OK, I’ll come clean: I wasn’t expecting to meet my wife on Tinder.

IÂ’m not some app-phobic, anti-technology fuddy duddy who assumed that real relationships could only happen through friendly set-ups and Katherine Heigl-worthy meet-cutes. I knew fully well that swiping right could possibly lead to a relationship. Given the appÂ’s reputation, though, I expected that any such relationship would prove to be…well, temporary.

I donÂ’t mean what-was-your-name-again-next-morning-walk-of-shame temporary… just this-will-be-rewarding-and-fun-for-while-it-lasts temporary.

But something special happened on my first date with my bride-to-be. After a wonderful night filled with laughter, singing and scintillating conversation, Rebecca Lenore Herring farted in my car.

In her defense, I wasnÂ’t actually in the car when she did it. It happened after I opened the passenger door to let her in (you know, like a gentleman who doesnÂ’t talk about a ladyÂ’s farts), during my walk to the driverÂ’s side. In case youÂ’re wondering, the five seconds it takes to make that journey is, in fact, not enough time to allow a fart to dissipate.

I’m not about to pretend that I fell in love with my fiancée because of a fart. Becky is not Katherine Heigl, and even if she was, I don’t think this would qualify as a very strong rom-com inciting incident. Now that I’m far enough away from it, I can look back at that night and laugh, but that night? It wasn’t charming trying to inconspicuously hold my breath and hide the tears in my eyes as I rolled my window down, finally sucking down giant gulps of fresh air.

The moment wasn’t charming, but it was representative. Because that night, like every day of her life before it and every one since it, Becky was astoundingly, undeniably, unapologetically Becky. I’ve told her this many times, and it still holds truethat Becky is the absolute Beckiest person I’ve ever met. And there’s no escaping it—to meet Becky is to be assaulted with her Beckiness. I know for certain that I could live a dozen lifetimes and never meet anyone Beckier.

What this means is that from the outset of our relationship, for better or worse, all of our differences were immediately on the table. Some of those differences have been pretty minor: I donÂ’t like the show Friends and Becky thinks pumpkin pie is better than sweet potato (which is plainly, objectively wrong). But some of those differences have been more major: one of them being that of faith.

I grew up a member of the Church of God: a sort of cross between Pentecostalism and Nondenominational Christianity. While IÂ’ve mostly fallen away from the religion of my upbringing, being with Becky has meant learning about how central faith is to her culture, and how central that culture is to her sense of self. Getting to know her has meant getting to know Judaism, which has been a journey in itself.

Because I am, in many ways, Becky’s opposite—more introverted and private—I didn’t call her out on the fart that night (in fact, it wasn’t until months after our first date that I revealed to Becky that yeah, I know you FARTED IN MY CAR ON OUR FIRST DATE). She’s confessed to me that if I had, she likely would have leapt from the moving car in embarrassment and we probably would never have seen each other again. I guess it’s part of why we work so well together.

In a time when it’s so easy to represent ourselves as someone other than who we really are—be it through everyday social interactions, or even a dating app—being with someone who is so overwhelmingly, genuinely herself that she couldn’t stop it if she tried is as welcome and refreshing as those lungful’s of air on that fateful night.

IÂ’m looking forward to this new journey that weÂ’re embarking on and taking our first steps into forever. I donÂ’t know exactly what to expect of our future, but I know for certain that sheÂ’ll ever remain as Becky as she has always been.


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Laura Rose 10-03-17
Laura & Zach on their honeymoon

Laura and Zach at Pena Palace in Sintra, Portugal, enjoying their honeymoon

Zach and I were married on September 16! We were away having a blast on our honeymoon in Portugal, but before we had time to post our honeymoon pics to Facebook or look through our wedding photos, Yom Kippur was upon us.

I had decided a few days before we got back that I would be joining Zach in the fast for Yom Kippur. For most of the other years weÂ’ve been together, Yom Kippur has fallen on a weekday and IÂ’ve been working. I would usually meet him for the evening service, but I had never joined him for the whole day fast. I decided that now that we were married, it was important for me to join him in this observance, so that we could begin our faith life as a family, not just two individuals.

Zach at the cross at Pena Palace

How interfaith! Zach (pictured) and Laura hiked up to the high cross at Pena Palace on their honeymoon

You may say, well, Catholics fast, right? And my answer would be, sort of. For example, Catholics are supposed to fast on Good Friday, the day that Jesus died, but this “fasting” means one full meal and two smaller meals, as long as they do not add up to a single normal meal. Needless to say, the undisciplined can go downhill quickly, myself included. My Good Friday fast usually includes a meatless lunch, but I convince myself that I need to eat enough to continue working at my job. Therefore, the prospect of going all day without food on Yom Kippur seemed daunting.

Let me tell you, friends–my first Yom Kippur went surprisingly well. First of all, I was worried that my “hanger” (anger resulting from hungriness) would get the best of me. I saw that, throughout the day, I was able to take strength in my weakness, and knowing that others were experiencing the same weakness filled me with patience and love for the community. Zach and I attended a morning service with Interfaith Families Project of DC, and I was able to see for the first time how this Jewish and Christian community worked (Zach had attended another service of theirs before). I was inspired by the inclusivity and friendliness of the community, as well as the different backgrounds or spiritual paths of the community members. It was a wonderful and welcoming experience.

Second, I learned that napping can be key to a successful Yom Kippur. We came back from the morning service, and about an hour or so after we had been quietly unpacking from the wedding and the honeymoon, the hunger set in, and I felt more and more tired. Instead of pushing past it, which is my normal tendency, I let my body be tired. I stopped working, even though there was still plenty to do, and read through our wedding guestbook, and then took a nap. Friends, I never nap. I need earplugs and a facemask to fall asleep on a normal night, but I was asleep in 10 minutes. Thankfully we set an alarm to alert us to get ready for the evening service.

We went to Sixth & I Synagogue in Chinatown for the neilah evening service. I had attended this service at this location last year with Zach on Yom Kippur, but as I mentioned, this was my first year doing the fast, and I was nervous about not only staying focused but standing up and not getting sick.

The collective strength of that community kept me on my feet and singing for the whole hour plus of the service. What a beautiful, urgent way to plead with God for mercy and forgiveness! It was a prayer for which we had emptied ourselves all day, which actually sharpened my focus rather than dulled it.

All in all, for me it was a Yom Kippur in which I not only successfully fasted, but I gained meaning, prayed intensely, practiced patience, surveyed my faults and mistakes and grew closer to my spouse. Yom Kippur presented a beautiful opportunity after we had returned from our honeymoon to reflect on the past year and prepare for the next year, the first in our married lives. IÂ’m so thankful for that opportunity–and my next post will fill you in on our actual wedding! Spoiler alert: Multiple friends and family members told us it was one of the most beautiful wedding ceremonies they had attended. So stay tuned.

Laura and Zach on their honeymoon


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Annakeller 09-29-17

A few weeks ago my family had a hard day. It seemed that both my Jewish and my husbandÂ’s Mexican/Catholic faith were being tested. A 7.1 earthquake shook Mexico. The epicenter of the quake was in Puebla where my husband, Adrian, is from and where his immediate family still lives. We were at the laundromat with Helen, our 2-year-old. All of a sudden breaking news of the quake flashed across the two flat screens above us.

Both Mexico City and the small, unknown villages of Puebla suffered. What was even more striking was the undeniable factor that the same earth shook on the same date in 1985 when 10,000 people were killed in Mexico City. Adrian grabbed his phone immediately. But then, so had the rest of the world. There was no connection to his village and the phones seemed dead or the lines were all busy. We grabbed our laundry from the dryer, put it in the trunk of the car and drove home to fold it.

The 19th of September this year also marked one day before the Jewish New Year, Rosh Hashanah. I wondered how we would be able to celebrate in the wake of such a tragedy.

As the day moved on, Adrian kept getting Facebook updates from friends in his town who had some access to the internet via their phones. Photos started being uploaded of demolished buildings. Another mutual friend of ours who was in Mexico City said 46 buildings had collapsed and there was chaos on the streets. Adrian went somewhere deep inside of himself with worry. I tried to play with Helen in the living room and not say too much. There was nothing to say, there was only waiting.

News came from AdrianÂ’s brother that the church in their village had collapsed. The front was cracked down the middle and still standing but everything inside had fallen. Adrian started to cry. His mother went to that church every Sunday, every holiday and at every opportunity she had. He still hadnÂ’t heard from her. I wondered what it would be like if my synagogue fell down, the same one I had been going to since I was a child. I couldnÂ’t imagine the feeling. He went into the bedroom and prayed to his Virgin of Guadalupe.

At 6 oÂ’clock AdrianÂ’s sister got through to him. That was mostly due to the iPhone he had sent to her a year ago. She said that the town was a mess but that luckily the family was OK. However, a lot of the neighbors were left homeless and there were huge cracks in the earth. One wall in his motherÂ’s house was cracked and the stove had fallen killing three live turkeys that had been running around the kitchen. I could see the relief on AdrianÂ’s face even before he hung up with his sister. I could see his sadness but also his faith, that unshakable faith when you believe in something hard enough that it changes the outcome of your worst fears.

We found out later that one girl in the village had been rushed to the hospital after a house collapsed on her. We also heard later on about how money from the government was not reaching the pueblos and that people were forced to rebuild without help. Then someone in the village started a donation page and raised enough money for bottled water and supplies.

The next night was Rosh Hashanah. Adrian was still reeling from the destruction of his village and he had to work so he didnÂ’t join Helen and me at the table in my motherÂ’s house. But, my brother said a special prayer for his family and he was present even in his grief. Adrian was actually happy to go to work so that he could take his mind off of things.

As the Jewish New Year progressed I looked at Helen. I remember when Adrian and I decided that she would be of two faiths. It was way before she was born. We said that whatever she wanted to be, she would be part of both of us. So far she eats my mother’s chicken soup, jalapeños, challah and tacos. She smiles like her mother and looks like her father. She says “hello,” “hola” and “shalom.”

When Helen was just a year old I received an angry email from an irate woman asking me how I could raise my daughter in an interfaith household. She accused me of being a “bad Jew” and told me I was making my daughter into a “guinea pig.” The email had me in tears. I couldn’t believe someone would say such a thing. It took me weeks to realize that a voice like that is not a voice of strength but a voice of true weakness, full of misunderstandings. After the earthquake happened I thought about that woman’s email and how absurd it was. After all, Helen goes to the synagogue I went to when I was a child and she will help rebuild the church that her abuela cherishes. We have already asked when we can make a donation in her name.

This year on Yom Kippur I will wear black, say the Kaddish (the mournerÂ’s prayer) for my father and for the people of Mexico who suffered during the earthquake. I will teach my daughter a Jewish prayer and a Catholic prayer. I will teach her that being part of an interfaith family does not make you less of one thing but more of both. After all, we have work to do. There are synagogues that need renovations and churches that are waiting to be rebuilt.


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Annakeller 09-28-17

This year’s Rosh Hashanah became the beginning of a challenging New Year. Approaching the middle of my third trimester with a two-year-old at home I refused to cook. I spent the Wednesday afternoon before the festivities with my feet up while blowing bubbles for my daughter. There was only one small tantrum that occurred in the kitchen when I said “chicken” and my daughter said “cookie” and then when I pulled out a cutlet there were a few kicks and screams and “cookie, cookie, cookie!” demands. Other than that, things seemed to be going my way.

We had Rosh Hashanah dinner at my motherÂ’s house and my daughter and nephews played until they exhausted themselves and then we all went to bed. The real Rosh Hashanah tradition begins in the morning when my mother and I walk one mile to our Orthodox synagogue every year. This is purely tradition. We are not Orthodox and I have been running an interfaith household with my Mexican/Catholic partner since before our first daughter was born. But the walking to the synagogue where my father prayed and where we went to visit my grandmother as children, because she lives half a block away, is the tradition I have kept because it is most important to me. It is also important for me to share that tradition with my own daughter and the new baby girl on the way.

It was so humid for our walk in the morning that my mother and I had to stop every few blocks. (At 72, my mother is in better shape than her pregnant daughter.) We huffed and puffed and made it in time to hear the shofar, the traditional ram’s horn that the rabbi blows into every year. And every year he says the same thing—that no one can hear the shofar in the streets without trembling. I always tremble when he says this because it is such a unique image and I imagine the olden days when perhaps this was true.

It is always the walk to synagogue with my mother that matters on the High Holy Day. Of course we pray and we listen to the rabbiÂ’s sermon, but when we walk, we share memories. We wonder and are in awe of how we both made it so far with so much heartache. We look at my daughter and marvel how a baby so Jewish and so Catholic at the same time can be so blessed.

Our walk home this year is what changes things. On our way back to the house, my mother tells me she is excited because she will be going with my nephews to synagogue on Friday morning. At first, I think my brother will be bringing them to our synagogue. He doesnÂ’t live too far away but he would have to drive them over. But then my mother assures me that he is not driving, in fact SHE is driving to their house in the morning and going to a new synagogue in my brotherÂ’s neighborhood. I stop walking and have to sit down.

During my most challenging times of trying to balance two cultures and two religions in my own home and trying to give my daughter the gift of both beautiful worlds, I have never broken my own traditions to do so. I have never told my mother I was not going to synagogue with her. I have never missed a Passover seder. So it shocked me when my mother decided to do something she has never done before on our most important holiday. It also shocked me that I hadnÂ’t been invited. I was stunned.

The next morning was a beautiful day in Brooklyn. It was what Rosh Hashanah is made of. The neighborhood was green and the sky was a piercing blue. There was no humidity. The sidewalks had cooled off and the Orthodox women in my neighborhood shuffled by in their best dresses. Lilac, burgundy, opal and sea foam green were the colors of the dayÂ’s fabric. I walked out of my house without my mother. At first, I thought that I should try a new synagogue. Next door to our apartment, where I held a baby naming for my daughter, they had a service. When I walked in and the woman asked if I needed help I told her I had forgotten something at home and I walked back out onto the street.

I took the long walk to synagogue alone. When I approached my seat inside, the rabbi had just brought out the torah and everyone stood. Rosh Hashanah signifies a new beginning. It is the day God opens a new page and decides whether or not we will be forgiven for our past sins. It is a joyous holiday celebrated by the tradition of eating apples dipped in honey for the desire for a sweet year to come. It is on this day that I can always hear my father singing, even though he has been gone for so long. It is on this day that I thank God for the opportunities I have, for a family I have made with two faiths. But it was never in my mind that on this day, I would sit without my mother when she is still alive and well. It was never in my mind that I would miss someone. It never occurred to me that the matriarch of my own childhood family would be the first one to truly break tradition, to unravel it like a typewriter ribbon—as if at the last minute she decided to change the story.


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Ed Case 09-19-17

This post originally appeared on www.edumundcase.com and is reprinted with permission.

The discussion about Conservative rabbis officiating for interfaith couples has quieted, other than a terrible piece by one of the Cohen Center’s own researchers, that I blogged about separately. I’d rather focus on the positive responses to intermarriage as the High Holidays approach, and fortunately there is are five of them!

Back when Mark Zuckerberg was marrying Priscilla Chan, there were all sorts of derogatory comments from critics of intermarriage to the effect that his children would not be Jewish. So I was very pleased to see Zuckerberg’s Facebook posts showing him with his daughter in front of lit Shabbat candles, what looked like a home-baked Challah, and a message that he had given her his great-great-grandfather’s Kiddush cup. The fact that such a super-influential couple clearly are making Jewish choices for their family is the best news with which to start the new year. Mark Zuckerberg and Priscilla Chan could really change the course of Jewish history if they got involved in efforts to engage interfaith families in Jewish life.

Second, Steven M. Cohen, in a new piece about declining number of Conservative and Reform Jews, says that arresting the decline “means encouraging more non-Jewish partners and spouses to convert to Judaism.” That’s not the positive news – the positive news is a much different response: the “radical welcoming” recommended by Rabbi Aaron Lerner, the UCLA Hillel executive director – a modern Orthodox rabbi, who grew up in an interfaith family himself. Rabbi Lerner writes that on college campuses, the intermarriage debate is already over – meaning that they regularly serve students who come from intermarried households, and sometimes those with only one Jewish grandparent, who they serve as long as they want to become part of their community in some way. Cohen could learn a thing or two from Rabbi Lerner:

Hillel and our Jewish community benefit enormously from that diversity.

Nobody can know for sure whether someone will grow into Judaism and Jewish life just because of their birth parents.

A Jewish student in an interfaith relationship may be inspired by our Shabbat dinners to keep that tradition for his entire life, no matter who he marries.

If these young students feel intrigued by Jewish learning, choose to identify with their Jewish lives and take on leadership roles in our community, they will be the ones shaping the future of Jewish life in America. But none of that happens if we donÂ’t make them welcome and included members of our campus communityÂ… I understand the communal sensitivities to intermarriage. But it happens whether we like it or not. If we donÂ’t give these young men and women a right to be part of our community, we risk losing them forever.

A third inclusive response is reported by Susan Katz Miller in a piece about PJ Library. She notes that PJ is inclusive—when it asked in its recent survey about Jewish engagement of subscribers, it asked if children were being raised Jewish or Jewish and something else; it also asked how important it was to parents that their children identify as all or partly Jewish. She reports being told that 50% of interfaith families in the survey said they were raising children Jewish and something else, and 45% Jewish only. She quotes Winnie Sandler Grinspoon, president of the Harold Grinspoon Foundation, as saying ““This entire program is for interfaith families, and non-interfaith families, whether it’s the exclusive religion in the home or not” she says. “If your family is looking for tools, and you’re going to present Judaism to your children, whether it’s the only thing you teach them or part of what you teach them, then this is a very easy tool.”

(There were other brief news items that are consistent with the value of an inclusive approach. The Philadelphia Jewish Exponent had a nice piece about interfaith families celebrating the High Holidays(featuring Rabbi Robyn Frisch, director of InterfaithFamily/Philadelphia), and the secular paper in Norfolk, Virginia had a nice article about Rabbi Ellen Jaffe-Gill’s work with an interfaith couple. The national past president of the Reform movement’s youth group wrote an inspiring piece about how she discovered the Jew she is meant to be – revealing incidentally that she comes from an interfaith family. Batya Ungar-Sargon, the Forward opinion editor, notes the element of coercion in the Orthodox approach to continuity, with disavowal of coercion and embrace of freedom the point of being liberal. There’s also an interesting article in America, a Jesuit publication, When a Jew and a Catholic Marry. The author interviews four couples to illustrate different ways they engage with their religious traditions.)

In the fourth important item, Allison Darcy, a graduate student, asks Are Your Jewish Views on Intermarriage Racist? She had decided not to date people who weren’t Jewish because there was “too much pushback from the Jewish communities” in which she felt at home. A seminar on race theory prompted her to examine the implications of Jews’ prioritizing of in-marriage. For religious Jews who want to share their religion, it stems from a religious source; otherwise some amount of the conviction that Jews should marry Jews is based on ideas of racial purity.

ItÂ’s not a religious argument. ItÂ’s a racial one. ItÂ’s about keeping a people undiluted and preventing the adoption of other cultural traditions, which are clearly evil and out to usurp us. ItÂ’s a belief that itÂ’s our duty to keep everyone else away, rather than to strengthen our own traditions so that they can stand equally and simultaneously with others. In my mind, itÂ’s the easy way out.

Darcy acknowledges that the difference in Jewish engagement between children of in-married vs. intermarried parents – but aptly points to the Cohen Center’s study on millennials to say that “by encouraging engagement with the community, we can near even this out.” Her conclusion: aside from religious-based objections,

This idea that intermarriage is dangerous is a judgment, pure and simple. It implies that other lifestyles are inferior, and that we ourselves arenÂ’t strong enough to uphold our own. And at the end of the day, itÂ’s racist to insist on marrying within your own race for no other reason than they are the same as you.

The fifth item—I was startled by this, given past pronouncements by the Jerusalem Post—is an editorial that takes the position that Israel should allow everyone the right to marry as they chose, not subject to the control of the Chief Rabbinate.

If at one time it was believed the State of Israel could be a vehicle for promoting Jewish continuity and discouraging intermarriage, this is no longer the case. We live in an era in which old conceptions of hierarchy and authority no longer apply. People demand personal autonomy, whether it be the right of a homosexual couple to affirm their love for one another through marriage or the right of a Jew to marry a non-Jew. Dragging the State of Israel into the intricacies of halacha is bad for personal freedom and bad for religionÂ….

Â… Instead of investing time and energy in policing the boundaries of religious adherence, religious leaders should be thinking of creative ways to reach the hearts and minds of the unaffiliated.

Â… Those who care about adhering to the intricacies of halacha should, of course, have the right to investigate the Jewishness of their prospective spouse.

But for many Israelis, love – the sharing of common goals and values, including living a Jewish life as defined by the couple, and a mutual willingness to support and cherish – is enough.

The Jerusalem Post endorsing interfaith couples living Jewish lives as defined by the couples—now that is another great start to the new year. I hope yours is a sweet and meaningful one.


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Ed Case 09-19-17

Taking a closer look at research and being objectiveThis post originally appeared on www.edumundcase.com and is reprinted with permission.

Michelle Shain, a researcher at the Cohen Center at Brandeis, has written a very damaging article about the Cohen Center’s game-changing study, Under the Chuppah: Rabbinic Officiation and Intermarriage, about which I’ve said, “The many rabbis who don’t officiate at weddings of interfaith couples because they think those couples won’t engage in Jewish life no longer have that leg to stand on.” Shain says she is a social scientist and wants people to understand exactly what the study demonstrates and what it does not—but she picks and chooses pieces of the study that support the apparent intention of her article to support maintaining Conservative rabbis’ opposition to officiation for interfaith couples.

The key findings of the study were that interfaith couples who had a rabbi as sole officiant were far more likely to join synagogues and raise their children as Jews. Shain’s main point is that those who chose to have a rabbi had richer Jewish experiences, so that the “logical conclusion is that their stronger pre-existing Jewish commitments led them both to seek a rabbi to officiate at their weddings and to engage in Jewish life after their weddings.” She says that on four measures, including having a special meal on Shabbat, there was no difference between couples who had a rabbi and those who did not after controlling for the pre-existing differences.

What she doesn’t say is that the study says (at p. 21) that after controlling for pre-existing differences, “intermarried couples who married with a sole Jewish officiant were still significantly more engaged in Jewish life than other intermarried couples on many of the outcomes discussed above. In particular, they were significantly more likely to raise their oldest child Jewish by religion, enroll children in a Jewish early childhood education setting, belong to a synagogue, attend religious services, celebrate Jewish holidays, participate in Jewish community activities, donate to Jewish or Israeli causes, and talk to family and friends about Judaism.” (emphasis added)

Shain also stretches to mention—without citation—a 2010 study that she says shows that officiating rabbis don’t have subsequent contact with couples, and take the standard pot-shot that without a random sample survey, no one can say anything about the impact of officiation on subsequent Jewish engagement.

Shain like anyone else is entitled to her views on policy, but is it appropriate to position oneself as an objective, dispassionate researcher and be selective like this? Conservative rabbis who oppose officiation have already made the pre-existing differences argument, and now have support from a researcher at the Cohen Center itself, when the key findings about raising children and synagogue membership arenÂ’t touched by that argument.

I would urge Conservative rabbis to consider what the study very carefully does say, without claiming causation: ““Interactions with Jewish clergy in preparation for the wedding may serve to welcome the non-Jewish partner into Judaism, establish the groundwork for a continuing relationship, and affirm the couple’s prior decision to raise a Jewish family. However, the opposite may also be true. Rejection by Jewish clergy may serve to dissuade couples from pursuing other Jewish commitments and connections.” That is entirely consistent with common sense and experience, which sometimes are as important as research.

Fortunately, there have been five very positive responses to intermarriage in recent weeks — you can read about them here.

Postscript September 19
Len Saxe and Fern Chertok have an excellent response in eJewishPhilanthropy, Neither Fact Nor Fallacy.


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Rabbi Reni Dickman 09-13-17

My name is Rabbi Reni Dickman, and I am very excited to be the new IFF/Chicago director. In the past month, I have already met incredibly thoughtful people. I have also begun to expand my knowledge of the Chicago Jewish Community. I am very proud of this community. I grew up here and I am inspired by the diversity of creative and innovative programs all over the Chicago area. There is something for everyone, and I hope to help interfaith couples and families find the right opportunities to meet other couples and families, to learn and celebrate and to serve those in need as all faiths ask us to do.

My work in a small congregation in Michigan City, Indiana, taught me about small town Jewish communities and the closeness they offer. In a big city like Chicago, our challenge is to create that same closeness. My experience teaching in Jewish day schools taught me about reaching students in different ways and always identifying the big ideas and essential questions within any text we study. I look forward to exploring lifeÂ’s essential questions with you and helping you come to conclusions that are meaningful for your family.

I am excited to explore lifeÂ’s questions with you at significant milestones in your life and in the years in between. I have two young children, and though my husband and I are both Jewish and I am a rabbi, I have been surprised by some of the issues we face as we navigate our familyÂ’s religious life. I would be happy to share my experience with you, my successes and my challenges and to hear yours as well. If there is one thing IÂ’ve learned, it is that itÂ’s always better to talk about it. I would love to grab coffee, go for a walk, meet your family or loved one, or talk one-on-one. I look forward to hearing your stories and your ideas.

Wishing our IFF community a happy and a healthy new year filled with creativity, communication and inspiration.


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Rabbi Robyn Frisch 09-08-17

By Rabbi Robyn Frisch and Rabbi Malka Packer

Just like the approach of the secular new year, the approach of Rosh Hashanah, the Jewish new year, is a great time to reflect on the past year and to make resolutions about how you can be better in the year ahead. (Click here to read how Jewish new year resolutions are different from secular new year resolutions.)

We propose that synagogues use this time to take stock of how they’ve been welcoming and inclusive to interfaith couples and families over the past year, and how they can be even more welcoming and inclusive in the year ahead. One way to do this is to participate in InterfaithFamily’s Interfaith Inclusion Leadership Initiative (IILI). But even for those not participating in IILI, this is a great time of year to come up with an action plan of how they can be more welcoming and inclusive. Below are suggestions based on a webinar on “Language and Optics” that we are presenting to IILI participants. These suggestions are the combined work of a number of InterfaithFamily staff members over the years based on our vast experience working with interfaith couples and families. What is your synagogue’s response to each of the following questions? Based on your responses, you can see where you have work to do.

  • Does your synagogueÂ’s website have photos that present the diversity of your community—including people of color, members of LGBTQ families, mixed-race families, etc.? While presenting diversity, you also want to be sure to be honest and make sure to present your community as it actually is, not how it aspires to be.
  • Are all Hebrew words and Jewish “insider terms” that you use on your website translated and transliterated?
  • Is there an explicit statement on your website letting interfaith couples and families know that you want them to be part of your community?
  • Does your website have resources and links to resources (such as interfaithfamily.com) for interfaith couples and families?
  • Who can be a member of your synagogue? Where are membership policies stated? Are they clearly stated on the website or in a pamphlet/brochure?
  • Who can be on which committees in your synagogue and who can hold leadership roles? Where is this stated? On the website or in a pamphlet/brochure?
  • Are printed ritual policies with explanations accessible? Where are they? On the website? In a pamphlet/brochure? In a b’nai mitzvah manual? Do you also have clearly stated policies on all of the following:
    1. What role can parents and other family members, who are not Jewish, have during a baby naming?
    2. What role can parents and other family members, who are not Jewish, have during a bar/bat mitzvah?
    3. Can members who are not Jewish open the ark?
    4. If there is a synagogue cemetery (or local cemetery), can family members who are not Jewish be buried there?
  • Does your religious school handbook include information about children from interfaith homes?
  • Does your bÂ’nai mitzvah handbook include information about interfaith families and extended family from other backgrounds?
  • Are resources for interfaith families (such as InterfaithFamilyÂ’s booklets on a variety of topics) set out and easily accessible?
  • Is there a guide to your Shabbat service available for those who arenÂ’t comfortable with the service (bÂ’nai mitzvah guests and others)?

 

Hopefully these questions can help guide your synagogue in institutional cheshbon nefesh (accounting of the soul) at this time of the year and encourage an action plan for becoming more welcoming and inclusive of interfaith couples and families in the year ahead.

To learn more about InterfaithFamilyÂ’s Interfaith Inclusion Leadership Initiative click here.


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Rabbi Samantha Kahn 09-01-17

For the past couple months, as I’ve settled into our office space at the San Francisco Federation building on Steuart Street, I’ve been surprised by how few Federation employees knew where we were. Since InterfaithFamily is an organization of welcoming and love, I decided this needed to change.

We began by re-envisioning our space. Where four desks once sat, we now have an open space working area with a desk, conference table, coffee/tea cart and some comfy couches—all donated to us by the Federation or local friends who were redecorating their homes. We added some art, some greenery and a couple of great lamps that shine a natural light. Our space was ready to welcome visitors; now we just needed people.

Enter #WelcomeWaffleWednesday! A couple of Wednesdays ago, we brought in a gourmet coffee cart and waffle bar for all of the people who work in our building and the one next to us. With the delicious scent of waffles welcoming all who walked in the building and coffee so fresh you could taste it in the air around you, a diverse group of Jewish professionals joined us for treats and mingling. Along with introducing ourselves and our space to the building, we were excited to be blessed by our visitors.

About half of our guests, while waiting for their waffles to cook, participated in an activity where they decorated cutouts with words and pictures of blessing and good wishes. We shaped the cutouts like hamsas, a beautiful symbol of protection in Judaism and many other faiths and cultures. The hamsa, which is believed to protect us from evil, was enriched by the blessings of our visitors. They now hang on our walls along with our art, bringing beauty, love, community and blessings to all who enter our office.

Now that Wednesday is over, and the waffles are gone, I look back on these past few weeks and a smile creeps over my face. I know this office welcome was just the beginning of a significant number of meaningful friendships and partnership opportunities. And the success of our event leaves me with one important conclusion: We need more #WelcomeWaffleWednesdays in this world!


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Annakeller 08-29-17

Numbers are a big deal in Judaism. Hebrew is an ancient language, but numerology is hidden in every letter of scripture. This is something I learned very early on: Numbers matter. Our time on this earth—our nights and our days are numbered. So it wasn’t surprising that I grew up on 23rd street in Brooklyn and my father died on August 23. I was 12-and-a-half years old. By Jewish law, I was a woman. But by losing a father at such a young age, a part of me remained fixed in time—always a little girl.

This year marks 23 years since my father died and I still haven’t set foot in the cemetery since childhood. This has nothing to do with numbers. This has to do with the fact that my father, a Brooklyn boy through and through, was buried in New Jersey of all places—Paramus, New Jersey. If I know one thing about the spirit, it’s that my father’s spirit wouldn’t be caught dead in Jersey. He’s not really there.

The dead live in our hearts. They live with us throughout our numbered days. Sometimes they ride the train or the bus with us. They help us cross the street on particularly tired days. We can’t see them, but they are around.

In Jewish tradition, my family believes that after death our souls go back to God. My husbandÂ’s family of Mexican Catholic tradition believes that the dead hover around all the time, just in case you need them. Once a year on Dia de Los Muertos (The Day of the Dead), AdrianÂ’s family travels to the cemetery to leave the favorite foods of the deceased. I believe in all of that, but I also believe that my father still sometimes likes to visit my motherÂ’s living room and sit in his big blue chair.

So this year, as my mother got dressed in her usual Sunday cemetery garb, she called to ask me the same question she’s been asking me for 23 years, “Are you coming with us to the cemetery today?”

My father was cremated—that is unheard of in Judaism. He sits on a shelf in a small jar behind a stone that says his name in both Hebrew and English. On the day he died, one of the neighbors remarked, “There’s Big Dave in a little jar.” I’m not sure my husband’s take on cremation and I’m nervous about asking him, but as it turns out, our two religions and cultures have more in common when it comes to death and dying than I would have suspected.

In Adrian’s village, when someone dies, the family stays up all night because they believe that the spirit of the person is still in the house. Then he informs me that the body must be buried within a 24-hour period. This is true in Judaism as well! Adrian also tells me that people are cremated in Mexico, but those people are usually from a bigger city whereas he is from a smaller village setting.

What Adrian canÂ’t comprehend is that almost my whole family is buried in the Paramus cemetery and there is an empty lot next to my father that belongs to my mother whenever sheÂ’s ready to join him (hopefully no time soon). He says thatÂ’s the strangest thing heÂ’s ever heard. I try to explain to him that itÂ’s kind of like owning real estate and he refuses to believe me.

But, both of our religions have a high respect for the dead. We both have special prayers. Both of our families wear black when someone dies. We both cry. Both of our families visit the dead once or twice a year. Except for me.

I talk to my father every day. And she may not know that I know this, but my mother talks to him every day too. There is a picture of my father in my living room holding me as a newborn. His face is close to my face and I have just been born. In that photo, my father is happy. He owns a house. He has a son and his daughter has just been born. HeÂ’s happily married. He goes to the theater once a week. He eats dinner out. He waters the lawn. In the photo next to him is a picture of Adrian and our little one, Helen Rose. In the photo, she has just been born and Adrian holds her in the exact pose as the photo of my father and me. Adrian is happy. His first child has just been born. He has a new apartment. He sees his friends and brothers once a week. He eats dinner out. He waters his plants.

ItÂ’s been 23 years since my fatherÂ’s death. So much has happened without him, though it feels as though he were here just yesterday. In Kabbalistic terms the number 23 signifies a kingdom. Usually it refers to an inner kingdom. As a Jewish girl from Brooklyn who started a life with a Catholic boy from Mexico, I feel as though my choice to create an interfaith family has kept my inner kingdom and my familyÂ’s inner kingdom intact. The choice to give my daughter a vast knowledge of who she is breaks tradition and yet holds it in place forever.

I never visit the cemetery on the anniversary of my fatherÂ’s death. ItÂ’s clear heÂ’s still among usÂ…in his own way.


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Craig Cohen 08-29-17

We live in a world filled with hate. It seems as each new day dawns, we are reminded of this very concept. Charlottesville, Paris, London, France, Spain, the list continues to grow. Even my beloved alma mater, The Ohio State University, a college with a diverse student population of nearly 60,000 is not immune. Can it really be that we have ushered in a new era where it has not only become popular but acceptable to preach hate and bigotry while encouraging violence at targeted groups? This seemingly commonplace behavior has captivated headlines on a daily basis and often includes attacks on various groups including women, LGBT, minorities and Jews.

America is the land of opportunity. A great country founded on the basic principal of speaking out and rebelling against tyrants forcing their ideologies. Each of us is entitled to life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness. People love to hide behind the First Amendment as a reason to spout vulgar insults and racial epithets. It has been uplifting to see many Americans coming together to rally against hate. But itÂ’s important to remember that freedom OF speech is not freedom FROM speech. Do I support or encourage the Ku Klux Klan and its supporters gathering in arms, bearing torches and shouting references to Hitler along with chants echoing through the night, “Jews will not replace us!”? Of course not, but while we, as equal rights supporters stand unified against hate, we donÂ’t encourage violence to solve violence. The hateful actions of these people are deplorable and do not embody the principles this nation was founded on.

As relatively new parents, this is continuously a topic of discussion in our house. Today, we live in a community only a few miles from where I experienced first-hand that hate is not limited to racially divided cities or foreign countries calling for war against the West. I was maybe only 10 years old when our baseball team traveled out to a wealthy suburb on the east side of Cleveland. (For those who don’t know me, I grew up in a predominately Jewish community that was well known for its religious concentration.) I was raised in a Reform Jewish household and became a bar mitzvah. I have been blessed to be married to the most wonderful, kind and loving Catholic woman in the world (although not very religious herself). My life experiences both as a Jew and being in an interfaith marriage have allowed me to view this anecdote differently as I got older.

We arrived for the game on a sunny afternoon and began to warm up. It didn’t take long before we could hear the undertones and whispers coming from the home team dugout. “F-ing (expletive) Jews. Why don’t you go home back where you came from?” These were phrases that, while familiar with, I had not experienced them directly, especially as a young boy. I was raised in an environment to be conscious of the fact that the world did not always like Jews and anti-Semitism was a very real thing. Now to experience it first hand was a little jarring. As the game went on there were similar remarks being made under their breathe. Later in the game, on a close play, I slid into second base and was involved in a little scuffle while colliding with the other player trying to tag me out. The play ended and through the cloud of settling dirt, I heard, “Go home you stupid k___ (derogatory word for Jews that sounds like “kite”).”

These awful words still ring in my ears more than 25 years later. My perspective on the world has evolved over the years—from a young Jewish man to a husband and father, raising my own family, in an interfaith marriage. The world is a cruel place; people are cruel; children are cruel. The events of the recent past can be avoided, but it has to start now. Hate is a learned behavior—it is taught to our youth at a very tender and impressionable age. We breed hate as we pass on our distaste for one culture, religion or ethnic group. Information is so readily available today and can be accessed, at our fingertips, within a moment’s notice. Hate groups are using this to unify and unite their cause with propaganda and recruit new soldiers to fight in the battle.

Today does not feel like the world I grew up in. It is fueled by violence and hate, almost as if we have taken a step back in our progression as a society. This is not the world I want my daughter to grow up in. Not a place where she has to be afraid or embarrassed that her last name is known as a common Jewish name. Not a place where she is afraid to walk into a synagogue. Not a place where she cannot be proud of who she is and the heritage she carries with her. We have to do our part, speak out when you see an injustice being committed. I believe that good can and will prevail over evil. However, it starts with us as individuals. The words we use in our homes, the way we speak to colleagues, the way we greet strangers. We CAN make a difference and chart a new course.


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Guest Blogger 08-29-17

By PJ Library

This post originally appeared on PJ Library and is reprinted with permission.

Chances are, your preschooler isn’t an expert on Rosh Hashanah celebrations (they’ve only been alive for a few of them so far). You may not be an expert on Rosh Hashanah either, and if the holiday is new to you, you’re likely learning alongside your little one. There’s no time like the present for you both to learn about the traditions that make Rosh Hashanah so special!

Between learning the colors and practicing how to write their own names, preschoolers’ days are filled with learning – and that learning won’t stop during Rosh Hashanah. The Jewish New Year itself has a lot of traditions for you to learn about together, such as why you dip apples in honey, blow the shofar and bake round challah.

Get acquainted with Rosh Hashanah as a family using these amazing books, all of which are perfect for the preschool age!

 

Engineer Ari and the Rosh Hashanah Ride
by Deborah Bodin

IsraelÂ’s first train chugs from Jaffa to Jerusalem just in time for Rosh Hashanah, taking treats to children for a sweet new year and seeing sights all along the way.


Happy Birthday, World
by Latifa Berry Kropf

With simple text, this book explains symbols and customs of Rosh Hashanah by comparing a child’s birthday celebration with the rituals of the Jewish New Year. A birthday cake or honey-dipped apples and a shofar or party horns are just two of the comparisons.


Happy New Year, Beni
by Jane Breskin Zalben

Beni loves getting together with family on Rosh Hashanah, the Jewish New Year — if only it werenÂ’t for his mischievous cousin, Max. Max is making trouble for everyone! But Grandpa has a few words of wisdom about starting off the New Year right.


Little Red Rosie
by Eric Kimmel

With Rosh Hashanah, the Jewish New Year, just around the corner, Little Red Rosie wants to make a round challah to celebrate the holiday. Who will help her make the challah—and then eat it? You might be surprised!


It’s Shofar Time!
by Latifa Berry Kropf

Hearing the shofar is an exciting experience for children. After beginning with this important holiday tradition, the author then introduces dipping apples in honey, making greeting cards and baking round challah.


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Annakeller 08-24-17

It’s been two weeks of vacation for my family in upstate New York. Nothing but fun, sun, relaxing walks by the lake, fishing and Quinceañera Barbie. Wait…what!? Here’s how Quinceañera Barbie came into my life.

My daughter Helen Rose is American, Mexican, Jewish and Catholic. The question from my Jewish-American side of the family is always, “Are you going to give her a bat mitzvah when she turns 12?” And the question from Adrian’s Catholic-Mexican side of the family is always, “Are you going to give her a Quinceañera when she turns 15?”

Both of these ceremonies celebrate the move from girlhood to adulthood. At a bat mitzvah, a girl may read a portion from the Torah in synagogue and then have a big party or sometimes, it’s just a big party. At a Quinceañera, there is a traditional dance that the girl does with a childhood doll. When the dance ends, the girl must give the doll away and then she is considered a woman. That dance usually takes place during a big party. Mostly, I believe these questions are brought up from both families because it’s a hint that we should start saving money now, even though my daughter is just 2 years old.

I hadnÂ’t given much thought to bat mitzvahs or Quinceañeras. IÂ’ve been enjoying the part of my daughterÂ’s childhood where every moment and every new discovery feels like one big party. She finds bugs and runs through outdoor sprinklers on our vacation. She chases birds and learns new words in both Spanish and English: boat, burro, cook and hola. But, one day it starts to rain and so instead of having our usual barbecue by the water, we take her to a Barnes and Noble in town so that she can run through the kids’ section.

Her first choice in toys when we get there is a train set thatÂ’s been set up in the corner. But she quickly tires of the train set after she realizes there are other toys in the store. She reaches for Peppa Pig, Elmo, Cookie Monster and Big Bird. She brings each toy over to me. She smiles and then runs to get another one. Finally, I spot her holding a large cardboard box with a doll inside. The dollÂ’s skin is the same cinnamon tint as my daughterÂ’s. The doll is wearing a long purple gown and at the bottom of the plastic that encases her, it says, in shiny silver letters, “QUINCEAĂ‘ERA BARBIE.” Oh help me.

I never had a Barbie. I didnÂ’t really want one. My brother was older than I was and he had G.I. Joes and all kinds of science toys so I veered more toward those. The only time I played with a Barbie was when I was at someoneÂ’s house for a play date. Once, at my friend AvivaÂ’s house, I took her favorite Barbie and shoved its head into her parents’ whirlpool (a machine used to make the bath into a jacuzziÂ…it was the ’80s) in the bathtub. IÂ’m pretty sure I broke the whirlpool when Barbie came out but her head stayed in. Her father spent two hours trying to shave BarbieÂ’s hair off to get her golden locks to break free from the whirlpool.

But there was my daughter, on a rainy afternoon, holding Quinceañera Barbie and waving her in my face. And there was Quinceañera Barbie with a glazed look in her eyes as if to say, “Remember me?” She had also plucked two other Barbie dolls from the shelf—Ballet Wishes Barbie and 2016 Birthday Wishes Barbie. But, Quinceañera Barbie towered over those two petite Barbie dolls and claimed her moment.

As my daughter ran off to get another doll, I wondered why there was no Bat Mitzvah Barbie. I imagined what she would look like—complete with her Torah scroll and equally shiny dress. As soon as my thoughts began to wander, I looked up everything having to do with Barbie dolls. What I found out shocked and surprised me.

Ruth Handler, who was the Jewish daughter of Polish immigrants, invented the Barbie doll. She actually thought of the idea after she saw her daughter playing with paper dolls. As I read up on her, I found out how she became one of the most successful business women in history. I then thought of the hilarity of my own situation. Barbie, even the Quinceañera Barbie, is Jewish! She’s not only Jewish but she’s interfaith—an interfaith Barbie! Her original creator is a Jewish woman named Ruth Handler and her identity in her current costume is that of a Catholic Latina girl about to enter womanhood! I’ve now become obsessed with the idea that any Barbie doll sold on the shelf of a toy store today is part Jewish.

I didn’t purchase Quinceañera Barbie only because my daughter doesn’t really know how to play with her yet. However, I do know that when my daughter is older and has questions about her two faiths, I will use Quinceañera Barbie as a model of something that incorporates a rich history of Judaism, Catholicism and invention. After all, as an interfaith child of a Jewish mother and a Catholic father, reinvention is something we are very familiar with.


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Rabbi Robyn Frisch 08-23-17

If you like cute videos parodying pop songs for the Jewish holidays like I do, then you’ll be happy to learn that they’ve been made not just for Hanukkah and Passover (see my favorites here and here), but for Rosh Hashanah too. So, as we approach the Jewish New Year, here’s a countdown of my seven favorite Rosh Hashanah pop song parodies.

7) Felicia Sloin and Tom KnightÂ’s “Apples and Honey” parody of Maroon 5Â’s “Sugar.”

6) The FountainheadsÂ’ “Dip Your Apple” parody of ShakiraÂ’s “Waka Waka.”

5) National Jewish Outreach ProgramÂ’s Jewish TreatsÂ’ “Soul Bigger” parody of Kanye WestÂ’s “Gold Digger.”

4) Matthew RissienÂ’s “All About That Rosh Hashanah” parody of Meghan TrainorÂ’s “All About That Bass.”

3) The MaccabeatsÂ’ “Book of Good Life” parody of OneRepublicÂ’s “Good Life.”

2) Six13Â’s “Shana Tova (2013 Rosh Hashanah Jam)” parody of Macklemore and Ryan LewisÂ’ “CanÂ’t Hold Us.”

1) And my very favorite Rosh Hashanah pop song parody: AishÂ’s “Rosh Hashanah Rock Anthem” parody of LMFAOÂ’s “Party Rock Anthem.” Not only can these guys sing, but they can really dance too!

WhatÂ’s your favorite Rosh Hashanah pop song parody? Is it one of the ones listed above, or a different one? Let me know in the comments below.


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Rabbi Samantha Kahn 08-21-17

In seventh grade, I was so excited when this boy from school asked me out. I asked my mother if she could drop me off at the movie theater, not yet able to go anywhere on my own, and was surprised by the questions she asked. I don’t remember exactly what was said at the beginning, but she communicated to me that he was not an appropriate person for me to date. In all my teenage glory, I yelled and made a scene and told her she was closed minded. She calmly responded, “No I’m not. I’m very open minded. You can date and marry any boy or girl you want, black, white or brown, as long as they are Jewish.”

Looking back on it, this conversation became one of the foundational truths I held onto in my younger days. Knowing that my mom was in fact very open minded and liberal in many ways, I came to believe the distinction she made must have been appropriate. And this comment was supported by thousands of others, large and small, from family members, teachers, youth group advisors and friends who all seemed to accept this idea as a truth: that as a Jew I should be with another Jew.

It took me a few years into my rabbinate until I could fully shed this thinking and not only welcome but truly embrace the (many, many) blessings interfaith families bring to the Jewish community. I am here now, as a voice for inclusion in my new role as director of InterfaithFamily/Bay Area, because I understand and believe deeply that it is the right Jewish and rabbinic thing to do—to see and embrace the holiness and blessings of each and every individual.

Those who live by Jewish values should see no option but audacious welcoming and sincere gratitude for interfaith couples families that choose to connect to Judaism or Jewish community in any way. Partners of different faith backgrounds are making Judaism a more vibrant and meaningful religion. IÂ’m a rabbi to help people find meaning in their lives. Throughout time, rabbis have done this in a multitude of ways. Rabbinic roles, and Judaism, have continued to evolve throughout time, affected by the cultures surrounding us and enriching each generation.

This is why I find myself in a new city, new job and preparing my family for our fourth move in six months. Matt, Roey, Stella Mae and I are, like so many young families, exploring our new city of San Francisco and creating the friends and community we hope will enrich our lives for years to come. My heart brings me to the Bay Area, to work for InterfaithFamily and make sure every person exploring the Jewish community, or loving individuals who take part in Jewish community, may feel the same warmth and love I offer my own family. Especially now, as a parent, I am realizing the weight of my words and advice that I offer to my own children and others. Maybe we can all explore this world together and enrich the younger and older generations with our warmth, kindness, creativity and spunk. I hope to meet you soon, whether for a cup of coffee on me (drop me a note at samanthak@interfaithfamily.com), at an upcoming event, or at my welcome breakfast where I look forward to meeting new people from the area on August 23 in our Steuart Street office—please stop by!


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Guest Blogger 08-17-17

By Lindsey Goldstein

I Wish We’d Had “The Religion Talk” Before Having Kids

Before my husband and I got married, we discussed how we would raise any potential children. These children were very theoretical. something I wasnÂ’t sure I wanted. But I began to consider it, since he finally seemed to be the right person to procreate with.

My husband was raised Catholic but hasnÂ’t practiced any religion since he left his parentsÂ’ home and I was raised Jewish albeit not entirely religious. I strongly identify myself as Jewish.

Yet despite those differences, our discussions about raising our kids werenÂ’t profound. They went something like this:

Me: “How will we raise our kids with respect to religion?”

Him: “Well, you’re Jewish, so aren’t they Jewish by default?”

Of course, he referred to the fact that any child that springs forth from the loins of a Jewish woman is automatically Jewish.

That’s fine and good, but I’ve found that kids these days, unless presented with a religious upbringing will often default to being “nothing.” Or as my brother’s kids say, they are “half Jewish.” What does that even mean? Are they sliced down the middle through the navel, one side claiming to be Jewish and the other not? It means nothing. Literally.

Ultimately, my husband and I decided our kids would be educated on Judaism by me and my husband would answer any questions about Catholicism should they arise. He acknowledged that the brunt of our kids’ formal religious exposure would most likely be Judaism because my parents live 35 minutes away, so we spend the Jewish holidays with them—and unlike him, I practice my religion.

Yet this wasnÂ’t a concrete plan. Essentially, we decided any kids we had could figure out for themselves how invested they wanted to be in their religious upbringing and we would simply facilitate their decision. In other words, our decision about how to raise them was pretty wishy-washy.

When my daughter reached school age, we decided to send her to a Jewish school, where she would stay there through kindergarten and then switch to an excellent local public school, one of the draws of our neighborhood.

As I have previously written, I am so proud that she became extremely interested in her Jewishness to the extent that she taught me things I’d long forgotten from my Jewish upbringing. In June, she “graduated” from that school and will, as planned, move to a public school.

The struggle confronting me now is how will her Jewishness persevere outside of her current school? I asked her if she would like to have a bat mitzvah and she said yes. I explained to her she’d have to attend Hebrew school on Sundays to make her goal happen.

HereÂ’s the thing: When my daughter and I discuss Hebrew school, she forgets about it minutes later. I donÂ’t force the issue because I reflect on the fact that I wouldnÂ’t have wanted to spend every Sunday in Hebrew school when I was 6. I hear my husband and understand his religion was forced on him thereby destroying any religious intentions in him. I know he feels strongly that we donÂ’t do that to our kids. But I remind him that being Jewish isnÂ’t an easy path to choose.

Now that we have real children instead of theoretical ones, I realize our decision to not make any decisions for them was misguided. Kids will never choose to study religion if they donÂ’t have to.

The path of least resistance is being anything but Jewish. I resented being Jewish for most of my teenage years because I was raised among mostly Christians and I hated being “different.” When I was 18, I lived in a predominantly Catholic country as an exchange student. For that year, I decided to assimilate and not celebrate Jewish holidays or acknowledge my Jewishness. I had a fulfilling year, yet I felt adrift. Even though I’ve never been terribly religious, it turned out I was out of place in a religious context that wasn’t my own, and I craved the companionship of people who “get me.”

No matter how religious or not a Jew is, I think there is a foundation of similarity that allows us to relate to another Jew easily. There is a parallel upbringing or set of parents or values that bonds us together.

And I realize now: I want that for my kids. I don’t want them to float around in this world incapable of identifying themselves with a community. Selfishly, I want that community to be a Jewish one.

Clearly, my husband and I still have some discussion before us—and it won’t be easy to iron out now that our kids are growing up. We should have made concrete decisions about religious upbringing before.

That’s why when other interfaith couples say they’re going to “wing it,” I vehemently tell them not to—but rather to hammer those details out before they get married, to seek counsel from an outside source if they need an objective perspective.

In the meantime, my daughter will still have a connection to her Jewish school since her brother will matriculate in a month. I am hopeful she will choose to follow through with her desire to have a bat mitzvah and continue to feel at home in the Jewish community as she has for the last several years.

I hope she is ultimately persuaded by my example since she enjoys going to synagogue and celebrating Jewish holidays with me. Of course, I am not upset with my husband for his view on religious upbringing—especially in light of how he was raised. But, I should have been absolutely forthright with him that my ultimate goal for my kids is as follows: when someone asks them what they are they respond without hesitation, “Jewish.”

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.


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