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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

Introducing Our InterfaithFamily/Your Community Affiliate jHUB

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We are your local resource for connecting to other interfaith families and Jewish life in Greater Cleveland. We provide a variety of opportunities to support your exploration of Judaism including social gatherings, holiday experiences, and Jewish learning. We also offer safe, non-judgmental gatherings for couples to discuss issues specific to being part of an interfaith family.

If requested, we can connect you to local clergy for your lifecycle events, and other Jewish programs and institutions that may suit your needs.

We are here for your entire family: you, your children, your parents and other relatives.

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

 

High Holy Days Highlights

As summer fades to fall, it's time to make plans for the High Holidays!  Click on the events below to see details about a few of the options in the Greater Cleveland area:

For families with young children:

Sunday, August 23: Heading Toward the Holidays: Let's Get Ready to Celebrate! - Shaker Heights

For people of all ages:

Sunday, September 13: Rosh HaShanah at the Beach- East Side - Euclid Beach

Sunday, September 20: Rosh HaShanah at the Beach- West Side - Huntington Beach

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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.

Ongoing events for families with young Jewish children
To find information about free and low cost activities for you and your young children (birth through age 5) on the West side, East side and in the southern area of Greater Cleveland, please see our....
January 27 2015 - January 28 2016
9:00 am - 9:00 PM
JECC 2030 S. Taylor Rd.
Cleveland Heights, OH 44118

Interfaith Couples Discussion
For those who are dating, engaged, or married and are interested in exploring the issue of religion in their relationship and family. Join with other couples ....
February 02 2015 - February 02 2016
7:00 PM - 9:00 PM
Meeting on both the West and East sides Contact Rabbi Mersack for dates and location details
Shaker Hts, OH 44118

Rosh HaShanah at the Beach- East Side
Bring a blanket or lawn chair and join us for songs, exploration into the themes of the Jewish New Year, and the blowing of the shofar. Especially welcoming for interfaith families. People of all....
September 13 2015
10:00 AM - 11:00 AM
Euclid Beach
Cleveland, OH 44110

Rosh HaShanah at the Beach- West Side
Bring a blanket or lawn chair and join us for songs, exploration into the themes of the Jewish New Year, and the blowing of the shofar. Especially welcoming for interfaith families. People of all ages....
September 20 2015
10:00 AM - 11:00 AM
Huntington Beach
Cleveland, OH 44140

Jewish Boot Camp: Judaism's Sacred Writings
This course provides an overview of Judaism’s foundational texts. What exactly are the Bible, Mishna, Talmud and other key writings? Who is thought to have written them? When did they appear? And....
September 24 2015 - October 15 2015
6:30 PM - 8:00 PM
26500 Shaker Blvd
Beachwood, OH 44122

Thursdays Together
Bring your infant or toddler to play at Agnon! Enjoy the opportunity to meet new parents and discuss child development, Jewish life and parenting issues with community experts.
October 01 2015 - May 26 2016
9:30 AM - 10:30 AM
26500 Shaker Boulevard
Beachwood, OH 44122

First Steps
Introduction to school life, library time, open exploration, movement, Jewish holidays.
October 12 2015 - June 06 2016
9:00 am - 10:30 AM
26500 Shaker Boulevard
Beachwood, OH 44122

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

Public
This is an Organization

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

Public
This is an Organization

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

Public
This is an Organization

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

Public
This is an Organization

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

Public
This is an Organization

Camp Wise
Camp -
Shaker Hts, OH
44122 United States
1 Member

Public
This is an Organization

Congregation Kol Chadash
Synagogue
Solon, OH
44139 United States
2 Members

Public
This is an Organization

Blogs

Greater Cleveland
Subject
Author Date
 
Guest Blogger 09-01-15

By Courtney Dunne

Courtney and family

Courtney (left) with Jodi and their kids

An “interfaith wedding.” What does that mean? I, after all should know what that means. My partner of 10 years and soon-to-be spouse is the CEO of InterfaithFamily. But understanding what it means to be in an interfaith relationship and putting it on display for all of your family and friends to witness…well, those are two different things.

Our families knew we would eventually tie the knot. After all, when we made the decision to move to Massachusetts, the ability to legally wed was a strong pull for us. Yet, life so to say, got in the way. Jodi was working full time in preparation for the transition in leadership at IFF and I was a first-time full-time stay at home mama for our active, inquisitive and adorable twin boys.

Life happened.

Yet, living in Massachusetts and not being married felt strangely different than living in Pennsylvania and not being married. No one, at the time, expected a same-sex couple to be married in PA. Yet, in MA people sort of looked at us in bewilderment when they found out we weren’t married. It almost felt like we were “living in sin” and as a Catholic school graduate, I knew what that felt like. Alas, new friends of ours gave us the added push of encouragement we needed to tie the knot.

So, 10 years. A house. A cat. A dog. Two kids. A BIG move to Massachusetts. And, finally…wait for it…marriage. I think we’re ready. Now, to share the news with our family and friends—this brought the expected excitement. The details—everyone wants to know the details. When? Where? Who? Most important, I’ve been asked by numerous people in an almost huffy and emphatic way, “Well, it will be interfaith, RIGHT?” Well, yes.  Um, sort of.

Growing up Catholic, going to Catholic school and a Catholic university, I have always held very strong beliefs about humanity that did not always coincide with doctrine. When Jodi and I met, we connected very deeply on a spiritual level. We found commonality in our differences and took a humanistic approach to seeing how her Judaism influenced her existence and my Catholicism influenced mine.

A lot of thought went into raising our children Jewish, a decision I did not come to quickly or easily. Ultimately, it was a decision made out of love for them. About wanting my children to belong to a faith community; to believe in God; to participate in community service. And most important—at least to me—was to belong. I mean, truly belong.

Courtney & Jodi

Courtney and Jodi at Boston Pride with InterfaithFamily and Keshet

That said, planning this wedding has forced me to really unpack the meaning behind what an interfaith wedding would mean for me. We made the decision to hold our ceremony in our synagogue, Kerem Shalom. We also made the decision to have our rabbi and friend, Darby Leigh officiate our ceremony. And here comes the line of questioning from my Catholic family members: “So, the rabbi is marrying you? And you’re getting married in the synagogue?” I can hear my mother’s Long Island accent: “I told her (my aunt) that you’re getting married in the synagogue but it IS and will be interfaith.”

Yes, mom. It is. But what does that mean? I might mention that my mother is also in an interfaith relationship—she’s Catholic and my stepfather is Jewish. But that’s a story for another time. So, how do you plan an interfaith wedding when some tenets of the Catholic faith (i.e. Christ-centered beliefs; Eucharist) contradict principles of Judaism? I found myself really questioning what an interfaith wedding would look like.

Luckily, we knew where to look for just the resources that would help answer some of our questions. Several helpful tips came out of the Guide to Wedding Ceremonies for Interfaith Couples. We also used the Tips for Inclusive Weddings to answer questions about involving friends and family (our parents will write personalized sheva b’rachot (seven blessings), choosing readings, creating an interfaith ketubah and more.

What I ultimately came up with was a Courtney-Jodi wedding that embraces our different faith traditions. Our interfaith wedding will include the pieces of our lives that that celebrate who we are; the spirituality that weaves in and out to create a bond and a tapestry. Our wedding will be in the synagogue and will have some of the traditional rituals present in Jewish weddings, such as the chuppah, the reading of the seven blessings and the breaking of the glass. However, it will also include blessings from our parents, who come from both Catholic and Jewish traditions. It will include family and friends that have been raised Catholic and family and friends who were raised Jewish. We have chosen to have our siblings, my two sisters and Jodi’s two brothers, be our chuppah holders, and the chuppah will have a Celtic web of life design. My sisters (Catholic) and Jodi’s brothers (Jewish) will provide the support for the canopy representing God’s presence in our lives and in our new life together.

Most important, our wedding will include two lives coming together in God’s presence—two lives who find commonality in spirituality. To me, that is an interfaith wedding. It may not include a priest. It doesn’t need to. What it needs to be is inclusive. Our lives and the choices we’ve made as a couple and as parents center around celebrating difference and inclusivity. Our interfaith wedding may not be your interfaith wedding. That’s the beauty of it.

Being interfaith is about noticing the differences and looking for the thread that ties you together but maintains individuality. Jodi and I found that thread 10 years ago. It has just taken 10 years to become a tapestry.


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Rabbi Sarah Tasman 09-01-15
Sarah's family

The Tasman-Hathaway clan gathers for Shabbat dinner at our wedding weekend in Martha’s Vineyard, June 2012

When I think back to where I first experienced my love of Judaism, I remember instantly my many summers at Goldman Union Camp Institute in Zionsville, Indiana. Camp was my first experience of celebrating Shabbat with friends (I can still smell the fried chicken and the Shabbat candles), of singing songs in Hebrew at the top of my lungs at song session, and of guitar strings gently strumming during Debbie Friedman’s version of the V’ahatva prayer at evening services.

I’ll admit it, I was bit of a nerd: I loved our daily Jewish educational programs, our evening and Shabbat services written by the campers, and the fact that every building and every item on our daily schedule was called by its Hebrew name. In college, my co-counselors and I were responsible for coming up with creative ways to teach Judaism to our campers. Thanks to that preparation, whenever I am asked to teach now, I try to think about what would make the session engaging and interactive for participants.

As a rabbi and Jewish educator, when I think back to what made camp so influential for me, it was the notion that Judaism and Jewish practice could and should be something meaningful—Jewish learning could and should be accessible and fun. It seems simple, but it is really quite profound. And to this day, I credit my experience of camp for instilling in me these values and the charge to make Judaism creative, meaningful and accessible for all I teach.

When people ask me what kind of rabbi I am, I almost always say I’m a community rabbi. I was ordained at the Rabbinical School of Hebrew College, a transdenominational program in Newton, MA (right near the InterfaithFamily headquarters!). And when people ask me what transdenominational means, I tell people about my own family (and I find this resonates for many other families as well): We’ve got a very wide range of Jewish involvement from secular, Orthodox, American, Israeli, Humanistic, Conservative and Reform members of the family. We’ve got family members who have converted and some who have not, and many of my family members are intermarried or are in interfaith relationships.

When I realized that my diverse family was a microcosm of the Jewish community, I began to see the reality of the Jewish community as a beautiful, multifaceted, sometimes challenging whole, and I wanted to be in a position that would allow me serve as much of the community as possible.

I am thrilled to have stepped into the role of director to launch InterfaithFamily/DC this summer. I am grateful to be serving the DC, MD and VA communities where I have the opportunity to work with community partners, be a resource to other clergy and can help connect interfaith couples and families with the Jewish community. I look forward to meeting you, working together and building community here in the Greater DC area.

Please be in touch with me via email, the IFF/DC Facebook group (coming soon!) or at one of our upcoming events over Rosh Hashanah! Join me and the Jewish Food Experience at a Sephardic Erev Rosh Hashanah dinner at the Heights on Sunday September 13 or come and help us decorate the InterfaithFamily/DC sukkah at the SukkahVillage at the JCC of Greater Washington on Sunday September 27.

Warmest wishes to you and your family for a Shanah Tova u’Metukah—a happy healthy and sweet new year!

-Rabbi Sarah Tasman


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Rabbi Ari Moffic 08-31-15

Mother and childIt was 2:56 AM when I heard, “Mooooomy…I NEED you…” When I went into my 6-year-old’s room, feeling frustrated and annoyed, she looked right at me and said with a clear, unwavering voice, “It’s inappropriate when you tell other people that I don’t stay in my bed all night.” My heart skipped a beat. “You’re right,” I said. “Thank you for telling me how you feel. I am sorry I embarrassed you. I will not share personal information like that again.”

My child is forming a sense of self and her own reputation. She has self-worth and self-respect.

As I sit for hours in prayer this coming High Holiday season, I will pray that I can do a better job of finding my own personal outlets for my frustrations and angst. I will pray that I uplift my children. I will wonder how to offer encouragement that inspires rather than using mocking to urge behavioral shifts, which is demeaning. I will pledge to talk less and listen more. I will vow to yell less. I will marvel at the mother I am, the wife I try to be and the rabbi I hope I am. I will think about the kind of year I want it to be.

This year, I will challenge myself not to rush my children to move faster to get to an after-school activity which is supposed to be life enhancing for them. Rushing them and causing stress takes away from the reason we are doing of the activity in the first place. I will remind myself to be disciplined in my spending: to buy fewer toys and “stuff” and to declutter our house and our lives. (Physically getting rid of stuff is a major Passover theme, but a little spiritual fall soul cleansing is good, too.)

If you find yourself in communal prayer over Rosh Hashanah or Yom Kippur, and you are bored, distracted, hungry or having trouble with all of the Hebrew or the images of God as King, think about the idea of “chet.” This is a word you will hear a lot in the liturgy. It is translated as sin and is an archer’s term for “missing the mark.” The High Holidays are a time to re-calibrate our aim. For sins against God, such as ignoring the Sabbath (a chance to rest and refresh, to re-prioritize, to reboot and connect to friends and family), God will forgive my trespass. But, for sins against others, I need to make amends. I need to do better.

As we all know, our children are our best mirrors. When our children tell us to put our phones down and when our children tell us we have embarrassed them, then it’s time to re-calibrate and aim again.

As the ethical teachings of our ancestors explains: “Ben Zoma said, ‘Who is wise? The one who learns from everyone,’ as it is said, ‘From all who would teach me, have I gained understanding.’”


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Rabbi Jillian Cameron 08-19-15

couple meeting with rabbiWhen I became a rabbi, my own rabbi at home told me that the most important thing I had as a rabbi was my integrity and I’d have little left to offer if I ever let that go. I think about that almost daily and certainly when tough decisions come up. Yet what I find the most difficult about maintaining integrity is not knowing what my boundaries are, what I believe in, stand for and represent but rather how to express and enact all those things. Sometimes it’s easy and the choices are obvious but more often than not, the nuance and shades of gray make integrity anything but easy to maintain. Moreover, while integrity can and should be a constant, it does not preclude evolution of practice, thought and boundaries nor does it give us the right to be judgmental or unkind.

I meet with a wide variety of interfaith couples on a regular basis, whether through a simple email exchange or a series of in-person counseling sessions. By far, the most common story I am told breaks my heart every time. It usually starts with the joy of an engagement and ends with the sting of rejection and judgement, whether from family members, community members or more often than not, clergy.

I have the utmost respect for those rabbis and cantors whose integrity, ideology and sense of purpose precludes them from officiating at interfaith ceremonies. I have seen the struggle amongst my colleagues and the true thoughtfulness with which so many make their decision. But I also see the struggle of so many interfaith couples who are less likely to engage in Judaism not simply because a rabbi said no to marrying them but because of the way in which a rabbi said no.

In an effort to practice what I preach and acknowledge the gray, I of course recognize that there will always be a certain number of couples who will only hear the no, no matter how kindly it is given, and will feel rejected. This is our reality. But I think we can do better for those who come to us, wanting a connection, no matter how tenuous. We owe it to ourselves, to our integrity and to the greater Jewish community, to express first the joy, purpose and possibility of Judaism rather than just the boundaries. We know Judaism has so much to offer: Why else would we want to protect it and cultivate it? Why else would we have spent years learning in order to make it our lives work?

Why not start with words of yes even when we have to say no?  

In the face of what we don’t understand, practice kindness.

Toward that which makes us uncomfortable or worried, practice kindness.

To those who make different choices than we do, practice kindness.

To those who yearn to belong, practice kindness.


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Malka Packer 08-19-15
Harriet and Malka

Rabbi Malka (right) with her grandmother, Harriet

My Grandma Harriet died a few weeks ago, at the age of 95. She was beautiful, creative and could expertly apply her lipstick without a mirror. She was my favorite hug. She cooked up the yummiest tuna noodle casseroles and the tastiest matzah ball soup. She lived a long life full of family simchas (celebrations), fancy dinners out with my grandfather and travelling around the world. When I got the call that she passed away, I was sad, but grateful that she lived a long, rich life.

A week later, I found out that my colleague’s wife was tragically killed in a car accident at the age of 37.  N was vibrant, involved in the wider Jewish community and the mother of three kids. She was passionate about education and inclusivity. My heart broke when I read the news of her unexpected passing.

Death confounds me. After these losses, my theology was shaken up, once again. Why was my grandmother blessed with a sweet long life when people like N are tragically taken away from us so suddenly? How is it determined: Who shall live and who shall die?

We are moving into the High Holiday season in the Jewish calendar. The Days of Awe (Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur) are a time of contemplation, reflection and spiritual awakening. The Shofar is sounded to pull us out of our sleepy routines and open our hearts. It is a time to deeply connect with ourselves. And it is a time to face our own mortality. In the “U-netaneh Tokef” prayer, it is sung, “Who shall live on and who shall die.”

As a kid, I was taught that on Rosh Hashanah (the Jewish New Year), we are either written in the book of Life or the Book of Death. And on Yom Kippur (the Day of Atonement), our fates are sealed. Like many children, I pictured Gd as an old man in the sky, who looked exactly like Moses with a long white beard and a cane. My personified Gd lived above the clouds and wrote two lists each year: those who would live and those who would die. And I worked hard to be my best self so that I wouldn’t be added to that dreaded death list.

I have outgrown my childhood theology. It doesn’t serve me anymore. This simplistic theology that only the good are rewarded with long life contradicts with my understanding of the world.

I don’t know why people die when we do. I don’t understand why my grandmother got to live a long healthy life while N was taken from us too soon. I continue to grapple with death. The answers to this are bigger than me and beyond my comprehension.

What I do know is that the Gd of my understanding provides me comfort in the midst of uncertainty. I can lean on The-Abundant-One when I feel scared, lost and sad. When my grandmother passed away, I felt held by a nurturing presence. I experience Gd working through my community as they surround me and my family with love. When I learned of N’s death, I cried out to the Mystery. It felt unfair and unjust! My heart cracked open and I felt a deep pain. And yet, I experienced a sense of awe at the outpouring of support and strength from the wider community. The way in which she has been memorialized in countless stories is breathtaking. To me, that is Gd.

Today, I understand the “U-netaneh Tokef” prayer to be about surrender. We are not in control. These words are a reminder of the cycle of life and death. How can I honor the ways in which death is always present? What legacies will live on? What old habits will die? This year, as I sing the line, “Who shall live and who shall die,” I will be reminded of my own mortality and how I choose to live my life this year.


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Emily Mace 08-19-15
ketubah_signing

Ben and I signed our ketubah, now 10 years ago

Recently I attended a long-time friend’s Conservative Jewish wedding, and the event found me reflecting on my own interfaith wedding, now ten years in the past. The  wedding took place in the Conservative synagogue she’d attended since her bat mitzvah, a large, well-appointed synagogue outside a major East-Coast city.

The ceremony started in the traditional Jewish way, with the ketubah signing and bedecken, where the groom places a veil over the bride’s head and face, in a reference to Jacob’s being tricked into marrying Leah instead of her sister Rachel. As two rabbis watched, friends and relatives signed the ketubah, and I felt tears spring to my eyes as I remembered my own friends bending over our ketubah to pen their names in Hebrew characters. Today’s bride was one of those friends. My maid of honor was also present at this friend’s wedding. She is not Jewish, and had carefully transcribed her name in Hebrew onto my ketubah before also signing in English. Sitting next to me at our mutual friend’s wedding, she turned to me and smiled.

Other moments, though, emphasized the difference between this wedding and my own. We chose not to do a bedecken, for example, and our rabbi was all right with this. At my own wedding, my spouse and I each circled the other seven times, and then we circled each other simultaneously once. Yes, I felt dizzy in the ninety-degree heat! At my friend’s ceremony, she circled her groom seven times, as is traditional, but he did not circle her. Despite these differences, tears again sprang to my eyes as I saw the bride and groom make faces alternately amused and loving at each other. I remembered my gathered friends and family laughing at the funnier facial exchanges during our own circling.

These small differences, though, hardly bothered me, and in fact, served as pleasant reminders of my ceremony. I find that I cry more at weddings with Jewish elements now than I do at Christian or non-religious ceremonies: the distinctive elements of a Jewish ceremony have such a strong association in my mind.

During that day’s wedding ceremony itself, however, my mood shifted as one of the rabbis addressed the couple under the chuppah. First he made the guests laugh: “It is easy to marry the person you love, but much more difficult to love the person you married.” A chuckle rose up through the audience, emerging from my own mouth as well.

The rabbi moved on, though, to a comment that gave more pain than amusement. “We have here what could be called a best-case scenario.” I expected another amusing quip, but instead, I ended up feeling awkward, and then even angry. “Both the bride and groom come from Jewish families; both of their parents are still married, and both of them also attend the same synagogue,” he explained. I felt a sudden stab of anger and even rejection.

By implication, my own marriage was not a best-case scenario, on two counts, no matter how I might feel about it! Not only has my husband married someone who is not Jewish, but he married someone whose parents are no longer themselves together! Did missing two out of three constitute a worst-case scenario, or something in-between?

When I got over my initial shock, I wondered who else in the wood-paneled sanctuary might have felt a sudden jolt of pain at the rabbi’s words. Who else there was divorced? Married to the son or daughter of divorced parents? Or (possibly worse!), dating or married to someone of a different faith? It seemed a reasonable guess that these descriptions applied to more than a few people in the room. Was it fair of the clergy to imply that we were all in something less than a best-case scenario?

I could give the rabbi’s words a more charitable spin: As the rabbi knew, my friend’s mother converted to Judaism prior to marrying her father, making her own inclusion in the “best-case scenario” in some ways a near miss. Perhaps the rabbi’s words were meant to sooth any fears the new in-laws’ may have had about the Jewishness of their new daughter-in-law? Perhaps he meant only to reinforce her status as a “member of the tribe”?

Whatever the rabbi’s reasoning, the fact remains that this was one of the first times when I, even if indirectly or without intention, felt the sting of wider Judaism’s fear of intermarriage. Despite that sting, I chose to take the moment as a reminder that we have the responsibility to our partners, of whatever gender or marital status, to create our own best-case scenarios. Those of us who have joined ourselves together with a ketubah have a valid and binding covenant that enjoins us to create our own best-case scenarios, whether those involve intermarriage, divorce in a part of the family or other elements of awkwardness.

As my friend’s new husband stomped on the glass (I remembered hoping my new husband would not step on my foot as we crushed the glass together), I resolved, again, to work to create my own best-case scenario for myself, for my husband, for our daughters and for our loved ones.


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Liz Polay-Wettengel 08-18-15

book coverZach Levy, the left-leaning son of Holocaust survivors, promises his mother on her deathbed that he will marry within the tribe and raise Jewish children. When he falls for Cleo Scott, an African American activist grappling with her own inherited trauma, he must reconcile his old vow to the family he loves with the present realty of the woman who may be his soul mate. A New York love story complicated by the legacies and modern tensions of Jewish-American and African-American history, Single Jewish Male Seeking Soul Mate, by Letty Cottin Pogrebin, explores what happens when the heart runs counter to politics, history and the compelling weight of tradition.

On September 10 at the Levin Ballroom at Brandeis University, InterfaithFamily is proud to be a co-sponsor of Faith, Race, Feminism and the Ties that Bind: Professor Anita Hill in Conversation with Letty Cottin Pogrebin with opening remarks from our own Rabbi Jillian Cameron, director of Interfaithfamily/Boston.

Letty and Anita

Credit: Mike Lovett

This event is a conversation that is set around the release of Cottin Pogrebin’s book, Single Jewish Male Seeking Soul Mate by Feminist Press. These two iconic feminists discuss the movement’s past, present and future, and the imprint of family history on identity and values.

We have two copies of this book to give away in conjunction with this exciting event. Enter to win by August 31 and please join us for this exciting event at the Levin Ballroom on the Brandeis campus. The event is free, but reservations are highly recommended.


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Liz Polay-Wettengel 08-11-15

(Newton, MA)—August 11, 2015—InterfaithFamily is honored to be selected for the natan-logothird consecutive year as a Core Grantee by The Natan Fund, a giving circle based in New York City. The Natan Fund announced Tuesday they will give $1.2 Million in Grants to Innovative Nonprofits, Social Enterprises & Social Entrepreneurs Worldwide.

This year’s grant is part of the organization’s 12th annual round of grantmaking and one of the largest grant pools in their history. Through a multi-stage vetting process, 67 of Natan’s 100+ members and supporters, sitting on 9 different grant committees, reviewed over 200 applications, ultimately making grants to organizations based North America, Israel, Argentina, Austria, Sweden, and the UK.

“We are so excited to be a Core Grantee of the Natan Fund for the third year in a row and are honored to be in the company of great organizations like G-dcast, IKAR, Keshet and Moishe House,” said Jodi Bromberg, CEO of InterfaithFamily. “It’s especially meaningful that these young philanthropists, who purposely seek out innovative organizations that create new access points to Jewish life for people around the world, recognize the importance of our work.”

See the full announcement of Natan’s grants and the full list of grantees.

About InterfaithFamily
InterfaithFamily is the premier resource supporting interfaith couples exploring Jewish life and inclusive Jewish communities. We offer educational content at www.interfaithfamily.com; connections to welcoming organizations, professionals and programs; resources and trainings for organizations, clergy and other program providers; and our InterfaithFamily/Your Community initiative, providing coordinated comprehensive offerings in local communities, including Atlanta, Boston, Chicago, Los Angeles, Philadelphia, the San Francisco Bay Area and Washington DC.


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Jane Larkin 08-09-15

JCC Maccabi

This past week, the JCC Maccabi Games were played in my city, Dallas. Dallas was one of three cities hosting regional games this summer.

The Maccabi Games are an Olympic-style sports competition held each summer in North America. It’s the second largest organized sports program for Jewish teenagers in the world and is part of the worldwide Maccabi Movement. Jewish kids, age 12-16, from all over the world compete. Thirty delegations competed in Dallas including ones from Australia, Mexico, Panama, Israel, and cities across the United States.

The games strive to instill a deeper understanding and appreciation of Jewish values in participants and strengthen their Jewish identity and connection to Israel. The other goal is to foster many of the same values as the Olympics–respect and sportsmanship, excellence on and off the field, and friendships that transcend gender, racial, ethnic, cultural, political and religious differences.

It’s the last of these values that I appreciate the most. Sure, there are kids from across the denominational spectrum competing but athletes from interfaith homes can participate too. The Maccabi Games’ definition of “Jewish” is having “at least one Jewish parent.” At the Maccabi Games, there are no half-Jewish, sort-of-Jewish, not-really-Jewish athletes. There is no one checking whether kids are matrilineal or patrilineal Jews. There is simply one kind of competitor, Jewish.

Matrilineal and patrilineal Jews compete side by side, as teammates and competitors. Children from wholly Jewish and interfaith homes share the thrill of victory and the agony of defeat. Reconstructionist, Reform, Conservative, Orthodox, nondenominational and unaffiliated; and those with high levels of Jewish engagement and little Jewish connection work and play together. All the labels that the Jewish community allows to divide us melt away at the games.

As an intermarried Jewish mom of one of the boys in the Los Angeles Westside delegation said, “We do the [Jewish] holidays, but my son never had a bar mitzvah. The generosity of spirit, of acceptance, was wonderful. No one treated him differently.”

At other times, differences were celebrated. A friend who hosted two basketball players from Australia told me with excitement about how they discovered at Shabbat dinner that the tune for the Hamotzi, or blessing over the challah, was not universal. She and her family were delighted to learn the Aussies’ melody.

To me, these things are what make the event magical. They remind us (or should remind us) that there is more that unites us than divides us. Yet, as a community, we still spend so much time focusing on what makes us different and quantifying and measuring who is really or more Jewish. If we understand the power of respect and acceptance to build Jewish identity and connection, why do we allow the differences to separate us?

I don’t know the answer. But I hope that these athletes, who are part of the Jewish future, will grow up to challenge the rhetoric. I hope they will see the rich diversity of the Jewish people as positive. I hope, that because of this experience they will work to create a more inclusive and united Jewish community.


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Rabbi Mychal Copeland 08-05-15

This essay was reprinted with permission from J. Weekly.

When sacred texts hurt others, how do we apologize?Earlier this month I was the rabbi at the Fellowship for Affirming Ministries’ biennial conference at City of Refuge Church in Oakland. I was invited to blow the shofar for the new Hebrew month of Av, and I lit candles to usher in Shabbat before the worship began. I returned to my seat, filled with love for the extraordinary Christian leaders I had met that day, honored to bring a taste of Judaism into their prayer space and feeling welcomed as someone who had entered that morning as an outsider, now an insider sharing a sacred moment.

Then came the scriptural reading from the New Testament: “Everything [the Pharisees] do is done for people to see. … Woe to you, teachers of the law and Pharisees, you hypocrites! … You are like whitewashed tombs, which look beautiful on the outside but on the inside are full of the bones of the dead and everything unclean. In the same way, on the outside you appear to people as righteous but on the inside you are full of hypocrisy and wickedness” (Matthew 23:5, 27, 28).

How should I react? Was anyone looking at me? Do I show my discomfort as a Jew listening to these words? I tried to be invisible, wondering if anyone who was standing up and calling out affirmations of this reading might be associating me, the very public representation of Judaism at this gathering, with a Pharisee. Were the rituals Matthew was criticizing related to ones I just performed? Were they viewed as empty, for show?

It was mere minutes later that I felt a tap on my shoulder. The presiding pastor presented a handwritten note. “Please forgive me for my choice of scripture, which I’m sure was painful to hear. … I felt pain as I listened. … and apologize for any harm this may have done to your heart just after you gifted us with a Sabbath Blessing.” I caught her eye, expressing how deeply this touched me. Her apology doesn’t erase the reality of the text existing, or being read as sacred Scripture, nor should it. But it brought me peace.

What followed was a regular part of the weekly liturgy at her church. The entire congregation recited a five-minute “Confession for the misuse and abuse of Scripture” that speaks, among other things, to the harm done to Jews and others as a result of the misuse of Hebrew Scriptures and New Testament. At this point, feeling a swell of gratitude, I wondered if we Jews ever ask publicly for forgiveness for any harm our texts have caused. In drashes, I have condemned our use of anti-gay verses, I have openly challenged Torah that oppresses women or further disempowers the powerless. But do we ever apologize directly to the people sitting among us who are squirming in their seats as a result of our words?

Because I was the direct recipient of someone’s confession, my mind is fixed on the people who sit and listen to sacred text being chanted in our sanctuaries. For the first time in a long stretch of history, a large percentage of people sitting in services are not Jewish. Most of them have entered our holy spaces because they love someone who is, and many have made personal sacrifices to raise Jewish families. This Shabbat, they may open the Chumash and read, “You shall not intermarry with them: do not give your daughters to their sons or take their daughters for your sons. For they will turn your children away from Me to worship other gods, and God’s anger will blaze forth against you” (Deuteronomy 7:3-4).

This week, I would ask forgiveness from interfaith couples who came to synagogue in support of their Jewish families. They might historicize these verses (this addressed long-gone nations and a nascent people) or even think about our contemporary interreligious battles (Jews worry that their kids might worship the god of the very people who have tried to extinguish them for centuries). But at a time when more interfaith couples are choosing a Jewish life for their families, I feel what the pastor felt for me — that our texts, attitudes and parts of our liturgy may be doing harm to their hearts even as they gift us with their presence and the presence of their children.

If you could reach out to someone who may be hurt by our texts, who would it be?

 


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Rabbi Robyn Frisch 08-04-15

By the IFF/Philadelphia Team: Robyn, Wendy and Robin

Robyn leading the group

Rabbi Robyn Frisch helps the group follow the steps to getting a perfect challah

Challah is the yummy braided bread with which many Jews begin Shabbat dinner. For those who grew up Jewish, the smell and taste of challah often invokes fond memories of family meals. For those who didn’t grow up Jewish (along with those who did), including challah with your Friday night dinner can be a fun and easy way to bring Judaism into your home.

In the Greater Philadelphia area, there are many grocery stores and bakeries where you can buy a delicious challah. But the best challot (plural for challah) are those that you make yourself—the ones you can smell baking in the oven and taste while they’re still warm. They’re the ones that may not be braided perfectly, but are made with lots of love.

Our staff in the Philadelphia office of InterfaithFamily heard from a lot of people that they wanted to learn how to make challah. And when our people ask for something, we want to deliver (or should we say “rise” to the occasion)! First, we arranged for “Challah and Conversation” to meet at Robyn Frisch’s house on a Thursday evening (so that everyone could have their challah for dinner the following evening). Next, we needed to decide what challah recipe to use. So, one morning the three of us got together for a little bake-off. We tried out a few recipes, and ended up deciding on a recipe that was a combination of different ones we had used.

Then Wendy went shopping… and after buying 30 bowls, 30 measuring spoons, eight packages of bread flour, yeast, salt, sugar, eggs and vegetable oil to make the challot (along with wine, cheese and snacks for the “Conversation” part of the evening)… we were ready!

Making challah

Everyone got their hands dirty

“Challah and Conversation” was a great success. Everyone learned how to proof their yeast, knead their dough and then punch it down before they braided it. In between the kneading and the punching—while the dough was having its “first rise”—we had time to learn about Friday night Shabbat rituals in general, and challah in particular. For example, have you ever wondered why challah is braided? Why it’s traditional to use two challot on Friday evening? Or why the challah is covered with a cloth? The “Challah and Conversation” attendees now know the answers to these questions and many more!

Many people have told us that they want to make their own challah but they’ve never baked bread before and they’re afraid they’ll mess up. They’re scared of words like “proofing,” “kneading” and “punching” when it comes to baking. We promise you that once you make challah with us, you won’t be scared. The result will be delicious, and your family and friends will be impressed! So keep an eye out for our upcoming “Challah and Conversation” programs and come join us for one of them.

And by the way, you don’t have to worry if you have challah left over after your Shabbat meal. It makes delicious French toast!

Conversation

The “conversation” part of the event

Read on for Ruth Schapira, IFF/Philadelphia Advisory Council Member’s account of the evening, and then get our not-so-secret recipe!

Scoop, beat, pour, and mix—then knead, fold, knead, fold. It’s the methodical way that you’d make a dough for challah, and the process itself seems quite mechanical, if you were doing it alone in your own kitchen.

Challah rolls

Ruth’s finished challah rolls

But making challah with 20 people in someone’s home is quite a different experience, and creating challah with people who are doing it for the first time is exhilarating. The program, sponsored by IFF/Philadelphia and held in the Director’s home, attracted a demographic that would be the envy of any Jewish outreach movement. Four young millennial-aged couples attended, with a smattering of some young singles, older folks and a mom with her two kids—their common interest was in “doing Jewish.” That was the foundation upon which connections were built among those who shared Shabbat stories along with flour and measuring cups that were set aside at stations, like in some amazing challah bake-off on a Jewish Food Network show.

The event was called “Challah and Conversation” and by the end of the night, there was plenty of both. The environment was open, accepting and casual which allowed participants to feel comfortable asking about the many beautiful and significant rituals surrounding Shabbat. There was curiosity about egg-checking (for kashrut), traditions for candle-lighting, the custom some choose to follow for “taking challah,” and questions like: Why do some people tear the challah and not slice it with a knife? Why is salt sprinkled on it? Why is the challah covered? What is the “Parent’s Prayer”?

The most outstanding experience from the evening was not the beautifully braided specimens in personal aluminum baking dishes, ready to be baked that everyone was taking home. Nor was it that everyone would get to savor the experience all over again when that unmistakable luscious challah smell filled their homes the next night before the Sabbath. What was undeniably special was that people came together in the true spirit of learning and community, and shared an experience that brought them that much closer to Judaism, and that much closer to one another.

Here is the challah recipe we ended up using:
(Find more great recipes on our food blog!)

Couple with challah

Check out our perfect challot!

Ingredients:

  • 3 to 3½ cups bread flour
  • 1 package yeast
  • ¾ cup lukewarm water
  • ½ tsp. salt
  • 4-6 Tbsp. sugar (depending on how sweet you want it)
  • 3 eggs (2 for the dough and one for egg wash before baking)
  • 6 Tbsp. vegetable oil
  • Optional: poppy seeds, sesame or cinnamon

 

1. Dissolve package of yeast in ½ cup lukewarm water and let sit for 5 minutes.  (This is how you “proof” the dough.)

2. Measure the flour into the bowl. Make a well.

3. Pour the yeast mixture into the well and let stand 5 minutes.

4. Blend in the salt and sugar.

5. Combine two eggs, oil and remaining ¼ cup water and mix together.

6. Add the liquid mixture to the flour and stir until flour is moistened.

7. Turn out onto a well-floured board using flour to dust the board and your hands. Use up to another cup of flour to handle the dough. Knead by hand until smooth. Let rise on the board (you can cover with dish towel) about 1½ hours or until doubled in bulk.

8. Punch dough down and divide into three sections and braid.

9. Cover and let rise at least 30 minutes. Preheat the oven to 350 degrees while the dough is rising.

10. Brush with beaten egg mixed with a few drops of water and, if you want, sprinkle with poppy seeds, sesame seeds or cinnamon.

11. Bake on middle rack of oven at 350 degrees for 30-40 minutes (ovens heat differently—bake until light brown).


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Emily Golomb 08-03-15
Emily and Jose take a break from wedding planning to enjoy time outside.

Emily and Jose take a break from wedding planning to enjoy time outside

A rabbi, a puppy, a Catholic and a Jew walk into a bar… Sounds like the setup for a bad joke, right? Much the opposite. It was a brainstorming session for incorporating religious traditions and the things we love into our wedding ceremony.

Jose and I joined a reform synagogue last year—Rodeph Shalom on Broad Street. We joined not because I felt particularly religious at the time, and not because Jose is planning on converting, but because we felt a strong sense of community there. Jose accompanied me to a High Holiday service there a few years back and we noticed same-sex couples, multiracial couples and folks of all ages. It was eye-opening to me. Growing up in Baltimore, I had not seen that kind of diversity inside a synagogue. Jose and I instantly felt a welcoming and inclusive vibe and figured this synagogue must be doing something right. Jose even remarked that this was not the exclusive, “chosen” mentality he’s previously encountered with Judaism. I agreed.

We took a class with a young rabbi by the name of Eli, and it proved extremely beneficial for us in understanding each other’s spirituality. The class was called “Judaism 101,” but it was not designed to preach Judaism’s teachings. It was a discussion about the basic tenets of Judaism and whether we identify with those principles and ideas of god (little “g” and big “G”). With our classmates old and young, Jewish and not, religious and not, and of various racial and ethnic backgrounds, we discussed how each of our upbringings have influenced our thinking. Jose got to dip his toes further into the world of Judaism and I got a refresher course and some new information.

Rabbi Eli invited the class to his beautiful apartment in the city for Shabbat dinner and we loved the experience. We’ve since gone to a few other Shabbat/Hanukkah dinners through the synagogue and through InterfaithFamily, and we have kept in touch with events happening at the synagogue. Through the wedding contest that we recently won, the officiant was chosen for us. She is amazing (see my previous blog post!), but I wanted to incorporate a personal touch for the Jewish aspect of the wedding. The ketubah signing (Jewish marriage license) traditionally happens right before the ceremony and it is very important to me, so we reached out to Rabbi Eli to see if he would be interested in officiating it.

Rabbi Eli suggested we meet at a bar (how cool is that?) and we brought along our 7-month-old puppy and sat outside at one of the best bars in the city. If you had asked me at age 13 whether I’d be having drinks with a rabbi at a bar I would have slapped you and called you crazy. If you had even asked me whether I’d belong to a synagogue and have a rabbi that I called on, I might call you crazy for that. Needless to say, there we were.

We spoke with Rabbi Eli about the most meaningful thing to us in the wedding—the ceremony. Although we were there to discuss the ketubah signing, he became an amazing sounding board for all of our questions about the ceremony. We discussed what religious traditions we could incorporate and how the choices would be significant to our families and friends. We talked about how to involve our families in the ceremony. We disclosed that while we enjoy sharing our love publicly (if you are friends with us on Facebook you know), I am private about things that are important to me and I want the ceremony to feel intimate. Most of all, we expressed how we are using our engagement as a time for reflection about our relationship. We are honest about what we each want from our marriage and we recognize that this is the time in our lives to speak openly about it. (Sidenote: It’s a lot less scary to ask your partner direct questions than to wonder what they think, and it’s a lot easier to do it now than in 10 or 20 years.) Plus, we want to build a solid foundation for the rest of our lives together and we want to be prepared for any challenges that may arise.

One of the biggest challenges in planning a wedding is to avoid getting wrapped up in the minutiae. I am eternally grateful to have won a wedding contest, because it has, for the most part, allowed us to remain relatively free of financial woes and family drama that is usually inherent in planning a wedding. Surely, the time will come when those challenges appear, but for now we are able to keep our focus on the marriage, not on the wedding, and we can focus on the foundation we’re building together.

After our meeting at the bar, Rabbi Eli shipped us a book he recommended we read, called Meeting at the Well: A Jewish Spiritual Guide to Being Engaged. I’m about halfway through it, and it’s great. The focus of the book is on using the engagement period, however long it may be, to work through how you both feel about certain issues, religious and otherwise. While some of it can be cheesy, it does have exercises and discussion points on topics ranging from raising kids to intimacy to finances to how you spend your free time. It’s a great resource for us to discuss things we never thought would be important. I learned some new things about Jose in the process, which truly surprised me after six years of dating and five years of living together.

Over the next few months, I’m looking forward to the fun stuff: bachelor and bachelorette parties, the tastings, the engagement photo shoot, working with the DJ on what songs to include and planning our honeymoon (no that’s not included!). Stay tuned for more updates on our wedding planning!


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Jessie Boatright 07-30-15
My beautiful Mom dancing at my brother's wedding

Mom dancing at my brother’s wedding

My parents and extended family have always supported my own interfaith family. There are many ways they have said or shown this to me.  When I think about when I knew it would be OK for me to bring home a partner who wasn’t Jewish, I always remember one specific conversation. I can’t remember exactly when this happened, but if I had to guess I would say it was during my Hebrew school confirmation year. The class curriculum, about understanding our Jewish identity as emerging adults, would have been an easy opener to summon up the courage to ask how my parents felt about me dating people who weren’t Jewish.

My mom knew her answer right away.

“I want you to find someone you love,” she said, “and if you really love each other, then you can figure out the rest.”

My mom was a clinical psychologist. Outside of her practice, she was a great friend, an excellent advice giver, and shared the role (with my dad) of #1 life advisor to our extended family. In other words, she had the inside track on a lot of relationships.

Wearing her many hats, my mom had seen successful marriages of all stripes, and she had witnessed the pain of marriages that ended in separation and divorce. She had seen same-faith and interfaith couples who thrived, and couples who had struggled to make their relationships work, regardless of religion.

My mom wanted her three children to find love, the kind that sustains life’s ebbs and flows and would encircle her future grandchildren (who were always in her plans, I suspect) with love and stability. She wanted to be sure that no matter who we ended up with, she and my dad would be a closely connected part of our lives. And more than anything in her life, she wanted to protect her children from pain.

She wasn’t saying “Being Jewish doesn’t matter,” nor was she saying “Your partner’s religion, and their family’s religion, don’t matter.” What she was saying was that she wanted us to learn how to love, and how to be loved. When she said we’d figure out the rest, she really did expect that. My parents always modeled a kind of loving partnership where being married meant you worked through things, not around them. When we had partners, we would need to figure “it” out, whatever it was.

Ultimately, my parents wanted us to be happy. I believe my mom was concerned that if she put limitations on our choice of partners, we might not endeavor on a truly full exploration of what we wanted in a partner. It was most important to her that we learn how to both love and “figure things out,” with either a Jewish person or a person who was not Jewish. My mom understood that religion was important, but not necessarily the magic key to a successful marriage.

I am thankful that my parents opened the door for me to find my right match, and gave me confidence that they would support my relationship based on its merits. This week would have been my mom’s 67th birthday. As my dad, sister, brother and I celebrate her and remember how much we miss her, I am lucky to have my husband and his family watch over me and hold my hand. On her birthday, I will pause and thank my mom for the ways she embraced my husband, and for not missing a beat in telling me to #ChooseLove first, with faith that the rest would follow.

chooseloveThere are many ways we all #ChooseLove in our lives. See the gallery and share your story!


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Emily Mace 07-22-15

IFF/Chicago Judy helping crafts at Sunday in the ParkRecently, my family and I attended a “Sunday in the Park with Bagels” event sponsored by Big Tent Judaism, which appeared to be a consortium of Reconstructionist and Reform Jewish organizations, including InterfaithFamily.

Sunday in the Park with bagels and fun.

Bagels are a serious business in our family, and despite the long faces, we all enjoyed the whole event, including the bagels!

I didn’t research the event beforehand and didn’t know what to really expect. Bagels were a great selling point, of course! But I thought it would just be few families camped out on blankets, eating bagels. I learned about the event from the IFF/Chicago’s Facebook group, and knowing how my family feels about bagels at any time of day, I knew it would be something we’d enjoy, particularly in a park on a nice sunny morning. I had no idea that we’d be a part of a very well-attended and well-thought-out morning of Jewish education and, yes, bagels.

When we arrived, we found more than a dozen tents, each hosted by a local Jewish organization and featuring a food and a craft activity based on a moment in the Jewish liturgical year.

The first table we visited was Rosh Hashanah, and Laurel jumped at the chance to decorate an apple with stickers and crayons, as well as stringing beads on it to make a necklace. We didn’t follow a regular order from table-to-table, as Laurel spent considerable time decorating her apple, and 2-year-old Holly preferred to wander much more speedily from table-to-table in search of games and, preferably, food.

Rabbi Ari & Tam at Sunday in the Park

Rabbi Ari and Tam enjoy the day

Both children eagerly rolled blue paper around two toilet paper rolls, topped with silver tin-foil points, to make their own tiny Torahs. We found the promised bagels at the Shavuot table, where Rabbi Ari wore a paper crown with green leaves. She helpfully explained that the leaves were a reference to the idea that Mount Sinai had actually been a desert oasis. Both kids ate the bagels with relief and delight! Laurel made a crown, while Holly determinedly stuffed bean bags directly into the goal point of the bean-bag-toss game.

Nearby, we saw representatives wearing gold paper crowns on their heads, and guessed correctly that we’d found Purim. Holly focused on the hamantaschen at the table, while Laurel skillfully decorated the front and back of an appropriately abrasively noisy wooden gregor. We somehow avoided Sukkot, which offered falling-down sukkahs made of graham crackers and melting green icing (in a summery and sugary rendition of a Jewish gingerbread house).

By the time we worked our meandering way to the Shabbat table, I found myself fully in the arts-and-crafts mode, too. At the Shabbat table, the craft consisted of using permanent markers to decorate a challah cover, and I wanted to help little Holly not get permanent marker all over the wrong places (such as her clothes). I grabbed a cut-out of a challah, placed it on the center of the cover, and traced it. Holly scribbled big black lines along the bottom. I grabbed a candlestick and placed it just above and to the left of the challah, and traced it. I was about to trace a Jewish star when I decided it would be really strange not to add the second customary Shabbat candlestick to my challah cover, so I traced a second candlestick as well, and drew a couple of free-hand flames on each. Holly scribbled gleeful blue lines all over the orange challah in the center. When we finished, we all enjoyed a slice of challah to cap the experience.

Crafts: apples on a string, toilet-paper roll Torah, seder plate, challah cover, crown of leaves, gregor.

All the fun crafts we got to make! Apples on a string, a toilet-paper roll Torah, seder plate, challah cover, crown of leaves and a gregor.

Working side-by-side with my children, I found an open and accessible entry point into the Jewish childhood I never had, but which my children are clearly enjoying. This version of Judaism centered on food and crafts rather than Torah, Talmud and ritual observance. Certainly, the emphasis came in part from the types of Jewish organizations sponsoring the event, but the end result emphasized Judaism as something accessible and fun for the whole family, even for family members of a different faith. Some of the crafts my kids made, like the challah cover or the gregor, will likely serve a ritual purpose in our home. The crafts allowed even the youngest of children a way to enjoy the Jewish environment.

Even more so, food is the great equalizer. By eating together, people cement their shared allegiance. That morning, it wasn’t the food of kosher laws that brought people together, but the simple act of eating foods in a Jewish context—from the menorah dripped with too much icing and sprinkles to the off-season hamentaschen (Purim cookie). Food transcended both age and artistic ability: Everyone, of whatever age or background could enjoy a slice of challah or an icing-dipped graham cracker. No wonder the tote bag said “We ‘heart’ Jewish food!”


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Jessie Boatright 07-19-15
One of many breathtaking views from New Mexico

One of many breathtaking views from New Mexico

This is a post about the High Holidays. I know, you’re not ready for them. Neither am I. It’d be way better if I just left you alone for two months and let you soak up every moment of summer. Good news, then: This is about that, too.

Two years ago, I wrote a post declaring my resolution to unplug on Shabbat for the Year 5774. Two months after that, I wrote and fessed up that I was not doing a very good job at unplugging. It didn’t get much better. Entirely unplugging can be challenging – in my experience, when I really tried to do it, I was surprised to learn how many things I “plug in” to do that I hadn’t fully considered up front.

Limiting screen use and unplugging all together seem like such important goals, ones that I am sure will be on many people’s lists as they spend the Days of Awe considering how to be better individuals, and parents, in 5776. While I frame my pitch around High Holiday resolutions, hopefully this concept works across the spectrum of observance, parental status and whatever else makes your situation just a little different.

So I say, get ahead of the ball this summer. Summer is not without its unique screen time challenges. More leisure time for kids can mean more time spent asking for the screen. The lure of an air-conditioned media room can be very seductive when the temperature and humidity climb. And travel can lead to lots more excuses to pull your phone out of your pocket. But on the flip side, consider this tale from my very own July vacation.

Eric and I were very lucky to spend four glorious days in Northern New Mexico celebrating our 10th wedding anniversary. While we were in New Mexico, Eric’s family generously looked after our girls, and took them on a fantastic camping adventure high in the Colorado mountains. A kind of wonderful thing occurred in both locations – we had very poor cell service. Forget the challenge (and sometimes stress) of disciplining yourself to use less media – on the whole, our screens didn’t work. Not having the option to plug in was so nice that I used a trick to spend my vacation focused on, well, vacation. When a signal popped up, I put my phone in Airplane Mode. It simulated not having the option of technology (while still letting me snap a few pictures!) and helped me to focus on the task at hand – vacationing, taking in the beauty of my surroundings, and connecting with Eric.

Rocket science, I am sure, but a tip I plan to use again on a campground on Cape Cod, and in the woods of Maine. So I challenge you – take yourself to someplace without a signal, or, if that isn’t your speed, put yourself in Airplane Mode. It won’t radically change your use of technology, but it is a great way to experiment. And thankfully there are still tons of wonderful places where plugging in is off the table. Where will you go?


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Jane Larkin 07-18-15

BookshelfIf there is one thing I’m passionate about, it’s expanding Judaism’s tent. After years of living as a Jewishly engaged interfaith family, I got tired of hearing Jewish professionals, academics, and community leaders blame families like mine for the demise of Judaism. So, for six years, I shared my family’s story in forums such as InterfaithFamily.com, the Forward, and Tablet to paint a different picture of intermarriage and interfaith family life. I even wrote a book From Generation to Generation: A Story of Intermarriage and Jewish Continuity.

Now, I’m excited to be embarking on a new phase in my Jewish journey as I begin work as a Jewish professional at my synagogue. As the new assistant director of engagement, I oversee my congregation’s efforts to connect more interfaith and LGBT families, 20- and 30-somthings, and people interested in conversion to Jewish life. It’s work that I have been doing as a volunteer lay leader, writer, and speaker for years. I’m thrilled that now I get to interact on a more personal level with those wanting to “do Jewish.”

One of my favorite parts of my new job is meeting with interfaith couples and families new to Dallas or about to get married. I spend many hours over coffee listening to the joys and challenges they are experiencing as intermarrieds or soon-to-be intermarrieds. I offer advice on navigating issues and relationships with extended family members culled from personal experience. I hope to convince them that there is a place for them in Judaism and that they are wanted and will be embraced by our Jewish community. Each day, I feel that I’m doing sacred work.

As I talk to parents and young couples, I often find myself scribbling on napkins and scraps of paper the names of books that I find to be helpful for building a Jewish home or raising Jewish children. I thought InterfaithFamily.com readers might also be interested in these materials.

So here are some of my favorite Jewish and interfaith books. They are resources that I find myself reading and referring to often. It is by no means a comprehensive list and I hope you’ll share your favorites in the comment section below.

Rabbi Bradley Shavit Artson and Miriyam Glazer, The Bedside Torah: Wisdom, Visions, and Dreams: Learned, engaging and provocative, this book offers three commentaries on each Torah portion. A great resource for discussing the week’s parsha during Shabbat dinner, it weaves together the insights of ancient rabbis and sages, medieval commentators and philosophers, and modern scholars and religious leaders.

Thomas Cahill, The Gift of the Jews: How a Tribe of Desert Nomads Changed the Way Everyone Thinks and Feels: A light-handed account of ancient Jewish culture, the culture of the Bible. The book is written from a modern point of view, yet it encourages us to see the Old Testament through ancient eyes.

Paul Johnson, A History of the Jews: A national bestseller, this brilliant 4,000-year survey covers not only Jewish history but the impact of Jewish genius and imagination on the world. Johnson’s work begins with the Bible and ends with the establishment of the State of Israel.

James Keen, Inside Intermarriage: A Christian Partner’s Perspective on Raising a Jewish Family: Written by a Christian father who is helping his Jewish wife raise Jewish children. Keen provides practical advice on how to give children a clear Jewish identity while maintaining a comfort level for both parents and includes perspectives from professionals who work with interfaith families.

Milton Steinberg, Basic Judaism: A classic work for the Jewish and the not Jewish reader. A concise and readable introduction to Judaism that makes complex theological and philosophical concepts easy to understand, and contrasts various Jewish perspectives.

Rabbi Joseph Telushkin, Jewish Literacy: The Most Important Things to Know About the Jewish Religion, its People, and its History: An indispensable reference on Jewish life, culture, tradition, and religion. It covers every essential aspect of the Jewish people and Judaism.

Yotam Ottolenghi and Sami Tamimi, Jerusalem: Renowned chefs, Yotam Ottolenghi and Sami Tamimi explore the vibrant cuisine of their home city—with its diverse Muslim, Jewish, and Christian communities. This stunning cookbook offers recipes from their unique cross-cultural perspective, from inventive vegetable dishes to sweet, rich desserts.

Tina Wasserman, Entrée to Judaism: A Culinary Exploration of the Jewish Diaspora and Entrée to Judaism for Families: A culinary adventure through the Jewish Diaspora, it is as much a history book as it is a cookbook. Wasserman explains how Jews around the world and across the ages adapted local tastes and ingredients to meet the needs of Jewish holidays and dietary laws, creating a rich and diverse menu of flavors and styles.

Sharon G. Forman, Honest Answers to Your Child’s Jewish Questions: A Rabbi’s Insights: A helpful resource that provides successful responses to many Jewish questions children ask, and summarizes Jewish thought in an easy-to-understand, readable format.

Ranya Idliby, Suzanne Oliver and Priscilla Warner, The Faith Club: The story of three women, their three religions, and their quest to understand one another.

Meredith L. Jacobs, Modern Jewish Mom’s Guide to Shabbat: Connect and Celebrate—Bring Your Family Together with the Friday Night Meal: An easy-to-read book that shows how the Friday night Shabbat meal can bring a family together and help them connect, even as children grow older. It includes recipes, art projects, and summaries of the weekly Torah portion.

Wendy Mogul, The Blessing of a Skinned Knee: Using Jewish Teachings to Raise Self-Reliant Children: A guide for raising self-reliant children. Mogel takes stories of everyday parenting problems and examines them through the lens of the Torah, the Talmud, and other important Jewish teachings.

Ronnie Friedland and Edmund Case, The Guide to Jewish Interfaith Family Life: An InterfaithFamily.com Handbook: Practical ideas for creating strong interfaith relationships from those in interfaith partnerships and those who work with mixed faith couples.


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Emily Golomb 07-01-15

“I am excited to let you know that you and Jose have been selected as the winners for the wedding at the Loews Philadelphia Hotel!”

Wait, what? Let me read that again. We won a wedding

Jose and I let out squeals of joy, called our families and started to hold on tight for what would inevitably be a wild ride.

Emily & Jose in Philly Mag

We found out about the contest through Jose’s coworker back in January, and we took our time to write a thoughtful statement, answering the prompt of how we volunteer and give back to our community. Jose and I both volunteer, so we thought we had a pretty good shot, but to actually win seemed totally crazy.

We had not done any wedding planning until that point and we were taking our time, planning on a long engagement. I wanted to enjoy being engaged and I didn’t want to start researching and choosing vendors. I was also having a hard time accepting how much an average wedding costs.

When we won the wedding it changed everything (how could it not?). Our venue and food plus vendors including the florist, photographer/videographer, gown, officiant, life coaching and more would be mostly free. The stress and financial worries of planning a wedding were diminished and we could instead focus on the fun stuff and enjoy the process. It was such a blessing.

I decided to approach the entire experience differently from the start. For my wedding gown shopping, I invited my mom, sister and a few bridesmaids to join. Since my gown was included in the prize package and it was from one of the best shops in Philly, Lovely Bride, I knew I wouldn’t be shopping around. So I asked one of my bridesmaids to bring a bottle of champagne to make the shopping experience a celebration!

As I tried on dress number three, and we were all gathered in the room together, my bridesmaid Madison, a certified sommelier who knows how to properly open a bottle, popped the champagne. And, because anything that can happen will, it EXPLODED all over the dressing room. It went on the ceiling, the walls, the floor, in her eyes and on all of the women in the room. It kept dripping from the ceiling onto me in a wedding dress. It left no area untouched. The entire bottle exploded. It was like something out of a movie. We later found out that the wine shop had kept the bottle in the freezer (Why? Who knows!).

Champagne exploding

My sister smartly took a photo while the situation unfolded!

The silence that filled the room was palpable, seemingly so thick you could touch it. A record started playing on repeat in my head: You now have to pay for this free dress. You now have to pay for this free dress. 

A few frightening minutes passed, and my mom blurted out, “I have to clean something. Give me SOMETHING to clean.” At which point the owner of the shop, the lovely Ivy Kaplin, started hysterically laughing. It was just too funny to not laugh. A sales associate was Swiffering the ceiling as I stood motionless and drenched in a wedding dress, and what else could we do but bask in the complete absurdity of the situation? Ivy and her associates were the coolest people I have ever met and didn’t charge us for the mishap. They took it in stride and we were all laughing about it moments after it happened. Not only do I have quite a story to tell, but I also found the wedding dress of my dreams and it was not covered in champagne!

We’ve had an amazing time meeting with our vendors and thanking them for their services. We are thrilled to have the fantastic Jill Magerman, a certified Life Cycle Celebrant who happens to specialize in interfaith weddings, as our officiant. She invited us over for a Mother’s Day brunch at her house (how cool is that?) and we talked for hours about what traditions we will incorporate from each of our religious and cultural backgrounds. We talked about Jewish traditions like standing under a chuppah (a four-post structure meant to symbolize the home), signing a ketubah (the Jewish marriage contract), breaking the glass (meant to symbolize the fragility of marriage, among many other things) and reading the sheva brachot (seven blessings for the couple’s marriage).

We talked about Filipino and Catholic traditions, like being wrapped in a cord and veil (symbolizing the union of the couple, the bond they share and the purity of their love), presenting arras (coins that symbolize prosperity and the couple’s commitment to mutually contributing to their relationship, their children and their community), and incorporating a unity ceremony, the details of which we have yet to determine. We also plan on incorporating Filipino traditions throughout the ceremony and reception, but I can’t give away all the good details!

We’ve also met with the fabulous Vito Russo, VP at Carl Alan Designs, who is providing intricate and beautiful floral arrangements for the ceremony and reception. We are absolutely in love with his work, and we couldn’t have asked for a better florist. It’s uncanny how closely his style aligns with ours, and we didn’t even choose him! It must be beshert (Yiddish for “meant to be”)! This adventure is sure to bring on more excitement, funny stories, challenging obstacles and plenty to discuss and for which to be grateful. If you keep reading, hold on, it is going to be a wild ride!


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Emily Mace 06-30-15

SummertimeThis past week, my family stumbled late into the pizza dinner before one of our local congregation’s children’s Shabbats. It was a rainy, surprisingly chilly Friday in June, and after a week of no school and being relatively cooped up at home, both children felt more than ready to get out of the house and go to services.

When we arrived, we saw three cars in the parking lot, and immediately wondered if we’d come on the wrong date. Ben pulled out his phone and confirmed that a “Pizza Dinner and Children’s Shabbat” was, in fact, listed on the calendar. Inside, a grandfatherly gentleman greeted us in the community hall where at least five tables were set up with silverware, candles, pitchers of water and simple flower arrangements.

But there were no other families! We’ve been to a couple of other dinners at this synagogue, and we’re usually surrounded by noise and chatter. This time, though, our grandfatherly host quickly informed us that most of the younger part of the congregation was away at camp, hence the empty tables.

Empty tables: I’m used to this in the summer time, when Protestant congregations empty out for the summer. Sunday schools close for the long break and families find themselves busier than ever with travel, enjoying outdoor markets or early morning bike rides and are otherwise disengaging from organized religion during the warmer months. Some congregations I have known switch from two Sunday services to one, and many ministers might take extended time off during the summer, filling the pulpit with lay or other guest preachers. Although this picture is by no means true for all congregations, in many of the more liberal pews I’ve sat in, it’s a common scenario.

I’m still learning to what extent this pattern repeats itself in Jewish congregations as well. When I asked Ben a few years ago if synagogues also closed shop for the summer, comparatively speaking, he surprised me by saying “no, they didn’t.” Historically, this pattern makes sense. The majority of America’s Jews have always been city dwellers, rather than farmers or rural folk (and farming characterized the majority of the American populace until remarkably recently). The need to help out at the farm meant that American schools closed over the summer, which in turn affected Sunday schools and the calendar of events in America’s churches, as well.

In terms of the liturgical calendar, of course, nothing in either the Jewish or Christian traditions suggests that congregations should become quieter over the summer. My daughters would tend to agree. However much they might appreciate summer as a time of expanded freedom, they still crave the comfort and familiarity of a weekly routine.

Although we don’t attend services every week at this point in our lives, both girls sense the familiarity that can be found in a mostly-regular routine or ritual. As outgoing, social kids, they enjoy the company of other children and even of the adults they see when we go. Shabbat on Friday nights gives them that comfort, no matter whether the sun is up long past their bedtimes, or down long before.

Does your synagogue scale down in the summertime? What do you think about this phenomenon?


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Jane Larkin 06-26-15

u2574684_p14588271Earlier this month my family hosted some of the Israeli staff from my son’s summer camp before they went to the camp for training. We have done this for the past three summers, and it has been a wonderful experience.

This year, the staff that we hosted had spent time with Birthright tours in Israel, and one had an American girlfriend who he met while serving as an IDF liaison to a trip. As he told us about her, he mentioned that she was Jewish. Really Jewish. Since 30 percent of Birthright participants have only one Jewish parent, I assumed that he meant that this young woman came from an inmarried family or was of matrilineal descent. A moment later, my young Israeli friend elaborated on the comment, “Her mother and father are both Jewish.”

The language used was an immediate red flag because my son’s camp was affiliated with the Reform movement and accepted as Jewish any child with one Jewish parent regardless of whether that parent was the mother or father. There would be many not-really-Jewish kids at camp. I wanted the counselor to understand that his language was not acceptable and could be hurtful to the very children whose Jewish identities camp was supposed to nurture. I need to say something.

I explained that since the camp was Reform, there would be many children from interfaith homes being raised within Judaism and that all were accepted and welcomed as Jews. I shared that there were no really-Jewish and not-really-Jewish campers. They were all Jewish. Drawing any distinction between kids from inmarried and intermarried homes was not in the spirit of camp, especially one that greets everyone with the phrase, “Welcome to Camp!” My guest said he understood.

The conversation made me think about the larger discussion about intermarriage not just in the US, but also in Israel. With the intermarriage rate in the US at 70% for non-Orthodox Jews, the success of American efforts to connect interfaith families to Judaism is hugely important to Jewish continuity and the relationship between American Jews and Israel. Many researchers and Jewish communal professionals in America see programs such as Birthright as significant opportunities to build the Jewish identity and connection to Israel of children of intermarriage. Program data proves that the trips are doing just that which is great news.

But working to create Jewish communities that are welcoming and inclusive of interfaith families needs also to happen in Israel. The old rhetoric about intermarriage that is still common among Israelis has to change if children of intermarriage are to develop a strong connection to the Promised Land. Let’s face it; future generations of American Jews will mostly come from interfaith homes. If they feel disconnected and alienated from Israel, the historic ties between the American Jewish community and Israel will diminish.

But even with the trends we see in Judaism, change will be difficult because Israel’s Ultra-Orthodox Chief Rabbinate controls religious law and services. Hopefully, over time and with political and religious reform, money, and more Israeli exposure to the diversity of Jews in America, we can at least get everyone to refer to children like my son as simply “Jewish.”


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Guest Blogger 06-09-15

By Katie Ryan

bride & groom

Katie & Steven after the wedding

Steven and I were married in an outdoor Catholic and Jewish celebration on May 23, 2015. The ceremony itself was the biggest black box for us when planning our wedding and we hope sharing how we brought our two faiths together into an interfaith ceremony helps anyone else trying to decode this process.

Steven was raised Jewish and I’m a born and raised and practicing Catholic. We wanted faith as part of our ceremony and we also wanted to make sure it represented us and was welcoming and inclusive for our families and friends in attendance.

With some work, the help of great people and some luck, we pulled it off.

The Ceremony

Steven’s parents are really involved in their Jewish community and through those connections found us a local rabbi, Lev Baesh that they thought we would like. It just so happens that Lev has a long history with InterfaithFamily and continues to work as a consultant with the organization. Steven and I both really value sustainability, so when we found out that Lev has solar panels on his house and chickens in his backyard, we felt like things would work out. The first time we met him for coffee (and to “interview” him) he said two things that stuck with us through the planning process:

1. Many of the major religious milestones (or sacraments in the Catholic world) recognize things that have already happened—baptism/ naming ceremonies (the baby is already born), funerals (the person is already dead) and in the case of marriage, two people have already made the decision to be together and the ceremony is to officially recognize it. Knowing this took some pressure off of us—we’d already been through the hard part of finding each other and figuring out that we wanted to be together forever. The ceremony was the cherry on top.

2. The ceremony is the first real opportunity to set the tone for how religion is going to look in your newly formed two-person family. That observation actually added a little more pressure, but also helped us find a framework as we came to decision points when planning the ceremony. For example, while I had written a word-by-word ceremony, our officiants both wanted the opportunity to speak in their own words, reflecting the sentiment we put forth in the draft. When we looked at our framework, we decided we wanted our faith journey to have room for flexibility and to be genuine and personal, so we agreed to let our officiants speak from the heart (that ended up being a GREAT decision—more on that later).

We found our priest through the recommendation of a friend who served on the Board of Directors for the Interfaith Action of Central Texas. I like the priest at my longtime Catholic parish, but I wasn’t sure he had the personality we needed for an interfaith ceremony. It can also be challenging to have the Bishop recognize an interfaith, outdoor marriage. Luckily, Father Larry Covington knew how the system worked and helped guide us through the process which included the required paperwork as well as Pre-Cana, multiple pre-marriage preparation meetings a Catholic couple goes through. He also made us feel at ease about an interfaith ceremony and marriage. Oh, and he speaks some Hebrew, which came in handy (see list below).

The Rituals

katie_ryan_chuppah

We decided on a mix of Catholic and Jewish traditions as well as things we just thought would be cool. Here’s what we ended up doing:

  • Both of my parents walked me in; both of Steven’s parents walked in with him (Jewish tradition)
  • Our dog was in the wedding party, holding the rings on her collar
  • We got married under a chuppah (the canopy structure present in traditional Jewish weddings). My father made it for us and personalized it by using Longhorn and Duke bed sheets as the canopy covering, paying homage to our alma maters
  • The priest and rabbi each gave a welcome and a blessing
  • We invited seven friends to give a blessing of their choosing, a twist on the traditional
  • The priest said the traditional vows, the rabbi did the exchange of rings
  • Steven and I wrote and said our own additional vows to each other
  • We did the Jewish stomping of the glass at the end of the ceremony
  • The singing of a prayer in Hebrew: We lucked out—our priest did this part and wow’d everyone!

 

ceremony

Katie & Steven’s wedding ceremony with Rabbi Lev Baesh and Father Larry Covington co-officiating. Photo by Elizabeth McGuire

Tips

Here are a few additional resources and things we did that were helpful:

Lots of communication with our guests: We emailed all of those attending the wedding to give them the heads up that our wedding would have a rabbi, priest and a dog. It really helped people know what to expect.

Lots of communication with our parents: We especially wanted to make sure our parents felt good about the ceremony since we were the first interfaith couple in our immediate families. We gave the opportunity in the beginning of planning to share anything they really wanted in the ceremony. We also shared the ceremony document with our parents in advance and they appreciated it.

Ceremony: It wasn’t easy to find more than an outline of a ceremony, but we did find one from InterfaithFamily that we really liked. Here it is.

Vows: In addition to the traditional vow exchange, we also wanted to say our own words to each other. We worked off of this list and made the vows our own.

Here’s to a ceremony that’s just right for you!

 

ChooseLoveSee how InterfaithFamily Chooses Love and then show us how you #ChooseLove

Looking for an officiant? We can help.


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Jordyn Rozensky 06-09-15

Justin and JordynI’ve been absent from the IFF blog for the past month or so, dealing with some health issues that kept me a bit too busy for wedding planning—or reflecting.

While I’ve dealt with doctor’s appointments and missed deadlines at work, I’ve had a mental image of a calendar with pages flying by—each representing a day of wedding planning that we’ve missed. But, honestly, none of that really matters. What matters is the fact that, with the support of family and friends, we’ll make it there together—the details of what the wedding day will look like are substantially less important. After all, that’s what it means when you choose love.

At a recent doctor’s appointment a nurse smiled at Justin, as she said to me, “you’ve got a good one sticking by you through this.” Justin’s response was instantaneous: “well, she’s sure had her share of being by my side in similar situations.”

It’s true. Only four months after we met I was by Justin’s side, calling 911 when he was injured, holding his hand as he came to after a 7 hour surgery, and traveling almost every other week between Boston and Philadelphia as he spent three months in a rehabilitation hospital relearning how to walk.

MageeWe’ve been testing the traditional marriage vow of “in sickness and in health” through the course of our relationship.

We haven’t actually made it to the point of planning where we are addressing vows (which, as we’ve learned, are traditional in Christian ceremonies but not in Jewish ceremonies), but we both know that this concept isn’t new to us. We’ve committed to holding up our relationship through adventures and health, and through the lows of sickness and injuries.

So, the countdown is on.  We need to order rings. We need to design our invites. We need to pick out a ketubah. Finalize our huppah design. We need to pick out food. And figure out what to wear. And how to light our venue. And order flowers. And learn how to dance. The list is long, but we’ll get it done.

After all, those are just details. We’ve already worked out the important things.

 

ChooseLoveHow do you #ChooseLove? Show us through InterfaithFamily’s fun new campaign! Watch this video to see how other people #ChooseLove.


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Emily Golomb 06-02-15
Emily & Jose

Emily & Jose

Jose and I met six years ago in Washington, DC, on a co-ed soccer team. After a few weeks and a carefully worded Facebook message, Jose invited me to a DC United soccer game with his friends, and I did not realize it was a date until he called and offered to pick me up. He showed up at my door smiling, looking relaxed and confident, like he had been waiting for me all along. I felt the same, and I could not wait to see where this went.

We were serious from the start, so when Jose told me he was applying to law school, I told him I would move with him wherever he went. After a year of dating, we moved to Philadelphia and he started law school at Temple University. We were excited to start our life together in Philly.

Because our relationship was intense early on and we were moving to a different city, we had to confront our religious and cultural differences right away. Jose is Filipino and Catholic, and I am Jewish. I remember a few times in the first few months when I cried, convinced that our relationship wouldn’t work and that our differences would break us up. Jose and I would always talk about it and we would arrive at a place knowing we could work it out no matter the issue.

In six years together, Jose and I have lit Hanukkah candles, celebrated Easter, taken interfaith classes, witnessed a First Communion, hosted Shabbat dinner, talked about how we will raise our kids, bought a Christmas tree and ornaments, joined a Reform synagogue, and so much more. We are a team, and we talk often about how our team will support and honor both of our backgrounds.

This past December, Jose got down on one knee in Rittenhouse Square, on the seventh night of Hanukkah. And this coming December, exactly one Hebrew calendar year later, we will get married at the Loews Hotel in Philadelphia.

Stay tuned for more details about our wedding planning over the next few months!

ChooseLove Want to share the ways you #ChooseLove? Check this out!


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Jordyn Rozensky 04-22-15

Blessings have been on my mind lately. In the Jewish wedding ceremony there are seven blessings recited, and, for better or for worse, I’m finding them complicated. Which is why, when our house started to shake during a thunderstorm the other night, I was already awake turning blessing after blessing over and over in my mind.

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Photo by Justin Hamel

The thunder rolled, the lightning flashed, and my mind immediately went to the damage that we’d seen this winter, wondering if this storm would re-expose those leaks. After a few minutes of almost deafening rain, my mind finally slowed past its catastrophic style thinking to an appreciation of all of the noises, smells, and feelings that accompany a thunderstorm.

I was thankful for the rain that we receive here in New England, as opposed the droughts that are impacting so much of our world. I was thankful that I was inside, and lucky enough to be safe from the elements. I was grateful to be cuddled up under my blanket next to my sleeping partner, with my sleeping cat in the nook behind my knees.

I noticed Justin stirring from his sleep. “Good thunderstorm,” he muttered to himself.

It might seem simplistic, but right there… that was a blessing.

One of the pieces of Jewish learning I’ve most taken to heart is the idea that a prayer should speak to what is truly in your heart—the trappings of the words matter a whole lot less. (This idea seems particularly relevant when coming at the idea of one religion’s prayer from a multi-faith lens.)

Which is why we’re going to take the seven blessings and take them from complicated ideas to a simple “good thunderstorm” style message.  But we need your help.

We’re asking seven of our friends to craft their own blessings based on the meaning of the originals. They’ll then be recited in the original Hebrew by our rabbi. What matters to us is less of the traditional language (we’ll have our bases covered by our rabbi’s recitations), but the sentiments passed along by the friends reciting the blessings.

Here’s where we’re asking for your help: if you were to simplify the following prayers to one word, what would it be?

  1. Blessed are You, Adonai our God, Ruler of the Universe, Creator of the fruit of the vine.
  2. Blessed are You, Adonai, our God, Ruler of the universe, Who has created everything for your glory.
  3. Blessed are You, Adonai, our God, Ruler of the universe, Creator of Human Beings.
  4. Blessed are You, Adonai, our God, Ruler of the universe, Who has fashioned human beings in your image, according to your likeness and has fashioned from it a lasting mold. Blessed are You Adonai, Creator of Human Beings.
  5. Bring intense joy and exultation through the ingathering of Her children (Jerusalem). Blessed are You, Adonai, are the One who gladdens Zion(Israel) through Her children’s return.
  6. Gladden the beloved companions as You gladdened Your creatures in the garden of Eden. Blessed are You, Adonai, Who gladdens this couple.
  7. Blessed are You, Adonai, our God, Ruler of the universe, Who created joy and gladness, loving couples, mirth, glad song, pleasure, delight, love, loving communities, peace, and companionship. Adonai, our God, let there soon be heard in the cities of Judah and the streets of Jerusalem the sound of joy and the sound of gladness, the voice of the loving couple, the sound of the their jubilance from their canopies and of the youths from their song-filled feasts. Blessed are You Who causes the couple to rejoice, one with the other.

I’d love to hear your thoughts in the comments below!


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Jordyn Rozensky 04-08-15
family wedding photos

A collection of wedding photos from Jordyn’s family.

In 2011, TheKnot.com surveyed almost 20,000 newlywed women. They found that only 8 percent kept their last names. Of the remaining 92 percent, 86 percent took their partner’s last name. Six percent hyphenated or created a new last name.

While I’ve seen other studies that show the percentage of women who keep their last names at closer to 20 percent, the fact remains: Changing your name after marriage is the “normal” thing to do.

Changing my name has never felt like the right move for me—my last name is the one on my degrees, it’s part of the name of my photography business, it’s the name I’ve written under, and, it’s the name I’ve used my entire life. I’ve given this some serious thought. I support a person’s right to choose the name that feels like the best fit for them, and I understand the idea that a unified last name presents a unified team.

But, for me, changing my name just doesn’t feel right.

(It also should be noted, that Justin isn’t up for changing his last name either. My last name is hard to spell, and he’s spent too long building his brand to change his name to something else. I don’t think this is a conversation only half of a couple should be having—if name changes are on the table, they should be on the table for everyone.)

It wasn’t until recently, when concepts like name changes shifted from hypothetical to reality, did something click for me. Changing my last name would mean separating my name from my family’s name—and taking a step away from my Jewish identity.

I know that marrying Justin, who isn’t Jewish, won’t make me any less Jewish.

It won’t make our home any less Jewish; it won’t invalidate the mezuzah hanging on the door, or make my observance of holidays any less meaningful.

It won’t make my work any less Jewish; it won’t tarnish my past community organizing, nor will it make my work with Keshet and commitment to full LGBTQ inclusion in the Jewish community less authentic.

Taking Justin’s last name wouldn’t make me any less Jewish… but it feels that way.

Jordyn's grandparent's celebrating a wedding anniversary.

Jordyn’s grandparents celebrating a wedding anniversary.

As an Ashkenazi Jew, with a very classically Ashkenazi Jewish last name, my name is a calling card. Rozensky, with its “rozen” and its “sky,” shouts Jewish. I can trace its Jewish history. My name comes with a connection to my people—not just in the sense of “the chosen people,” but also in the way it connects me to previous generations of Rozenskys. I’m not ready to step away from that tradition.

There will be plenty of compromises made in our marriage; after all, meeting each other halfway is an important part of keeping a relationship working. But when it comes to our names—which hold such important aspects of our identities—compromise doesn’t seem like the best bet.


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