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On March 6, 1997, after a mere forty-one weeks of pregnancy, twelve hours of active labor, and three hours of pushing, our baby girl was born. We were thrilled beyond words when the doctor announced, "It's a girl!"
Prior to her birth we carefully chose names, both in English and in Hebrew, for we are a Jewish family. Our daughter's Hebrew name is Shira Keren. Her English name is Samantha Caitlyn. Caitlyn? What kind of Jewish name is that? But wait, it gets better. Samantha Caitlyn Kennedy. We like to joke that she will be the only Kennedy in Hebrew school.
So yes, we are indeed a Jewish family, but not all our family members are Jewish. My husband Bill was born Irish Catholic (hence Samantha's middle name with the traditional Gaelic spelling). Fortunately for me, he generously agreed before our marriage that he would not practice his own religion AND would be willing to be an active participant in mine. And that we would have a Jewish wedding and raise our children Jewish. My family loved him and, to our surprise, planning our Jewish wedding was actually much easier than we had expected. Once we were married, we decided to join the Conservative synagogue where I grew up and where my family already belonged.
Now we were ready to embark on our next Jewish adventure--planning Samantha's baby naming. I spoke to the synagogue secretary, scheduled the naming, and was told that the rabbi would get in touch with me a few weeks ahead of time to go over some details. I dutifully sent out invitations (while still writing thank you notes for baby gifts), and Bill and I planned a big luncheon back at our house after the Saturday morning service at the shul, or synagogue.
As promised, a few weeks before the naming our rabbi called to go over those details--and to throw us a curve ball. We were told that, since Bill was not Jewish, we could not have the naming ceremony at the traditional place in the Shabbat service. It seems that one of the "laws" of our congregation states that a non-Jewish person, like Bill, cannot be on the bimah, or podium, when the Torah is open. Since baby namings are always done in our congregation during the Torah service, we would have to figure out an alternative part of the service in which to have it.
WHAT?! Although the message was delivered with great concern for our feelings, I was mortified. What was my rabbi telling me--that we were second-class members simply because my husband was not Jewish? Perhaps he wasn't telling me that, but that is certainly how I felt. I knew that I was being overly protective of Bill's feelings, but the discussion left me feeling angry, disappointed, and very confused, so the rabbi and I agreed that we would mull over our conversation and talk again later that day.
When I pulled myself together, I explained everything to Bill. He, as a concerned parent, focused only on how the congregation would accept the naming on behalf of Samantha. Would they feel that this was not a legitimate naming since it was not done during the traditional time in the service? His immediate solution was that the naming should be done during the Torah service and he would simply not go onto the bimah. Well, since Bill was the most devoted and loving father I could ever imagine, his solution was not acceptable to me. Our congregation would have to welcome Samantha and both her parents, not just the Jewish one. We discussed all of the alternatives that the rabbi presented us with, and consulted with my parents to get their opinion.
In the end, we decided to have the naming at the start of the Torah service, but before the Torah was actually opened. Then, during the Torah service, I would have an aliyah--go up to say the blessing before the Torah reading--in honor of our family's simcha, or joyous event. As fairly new and sleep-deprived parents, we were probably more emotional about this whole ordeal than we needed to be. Our rabbi handled the situation with great finesse and concern for Bill's feelings. However, we still felt somewhat justified in our reaction, for when it comes to our children, is it wrong to expect that everything be perfect?
Ultimately, the day was, in fact, perfect. The weather was beautiful, Samantha stayed awake and did not cry in shul, and we were filled with unprecedented joy and nachas, pride, as our friends and family celebrated our daughter's entry into Judaism. I remember telling the rabbi right before the ceremony began that I was as excited as if it were Samantha's Bat Mitzvah. But I guess we should wait a few more years before we start planning that!