That Thing We Do

I need an intervention. No matter how much I try to move away from writing about Noah Feldman's The Orthodox Paradox, I keep getting called back by the tantalizing aromas of fresh opinions. The way it makes me feel part of something bigger than myself, the way it makes my worries wash away, the way it builds my self-confidence... My name is Micah and I am an Orthodox-Paraholic.

But maybe one last taste?

Andrew Silow-Carroll, the ever-insightful editor of the New Jersey Jewish News, wrote a follow-up to his op-ed "The way we do the things we do." In that essay he argued that the Feldman essay--and a recent volley of intellectual fireworks between Jack Wertheimer, provost of the Conservative movement's rabbinical seminary, and Joey Kurtzman, editor of Jewcy--demonstrated the growing schism between the "particularists" and the "universalists." The particularists, like Wertheimer, see Judaism first and foremost as a culture and view Jewish strength in inverse relationship to Jewish assimilation. The universalists, like Kurtzman (and to a lesser extent, Feldman), see Judaism as a universally accessible philosophy that is compromised by the obsession over communal boundaries. Silow-Carroll is more sympathetic to the first position--indeed, he lives his life by the rules of the particularist--but in this new column, he wonders whether his "choices will ensure the survival of anything."

It's not that he thinks his decisions to live in a Jewish neighborhood, go to synagogue regularly and send his children to Jewish day school are misguided, but rather that he doesn't have complete confidence that his strategy, or any strategy for that matter, will guarantee Jewish continuity. Among most Jewish establishment thinkers, it's accepted wisdom that because the Orthodox are the fastest-growing portion of the American Jewish community, only a focus on religious ritual, Jewish education and segregated living will lead to continued Jewish strength. In the modern view, the assimilation and secularization of the Jewish mainstream over the last 70 years has been a failure for Judaism. But, says Silow-Carroll:

The problem with this analysis, as I wrote at the time, is that it presents the current Jewish era as the inevitable consequence of the history that preceded it as well as a predictor of the future that will follow it. To have performed the same exercise 100 years ago would have yielded the opposite conclusion: The Orthodox model would have been seen as the least successful model in Jewish history, in that 90 percent of its adherents abandoned its strictures for different lives in America and Palestine.

Jewish "particularism" would have been a social disaster even 50 years ago, when anti-Semitism was still a barrier in so many ways. No one can say which strategies will be demanded — and will make demands on us — 10, 20, or 30 years from now. Each generation calls forth its own corrective. If followers of the "Orthodox model" — and I include myself among them — think we've reached the end of Jewish history and that our children and grandchildren will come out as our clones in the Jewish choices they make, then we are very likely in for a shock.

Silow-Caroll's op-eds and Kurtzman's and Feldman's essays make me wonder if perhaps the future of Judaism won't be found in particularism or universalism, but perhaps in some yet-unforeseen synthesis of the two. Or perhaps a third way altogether. About the only lesson we can draw from Jewish history is that those who care about their Judaism in some way will also find some way to perpetuate it.

What You Think

Since the Sept. 26 issue of our Web Magazine last year, we've been running polls alongside the table of contents. We typically get around 20 responses. While nothing like a statistically reliable sample, they do provide an interesting barometer of our readers' opinions on interfaith issues.

For example, in our last issue on interfaith weddings, we asked "Do you think interfaith couples are more likely to participate in the Jewish community if a rabbi officiates at their wedding?" Eighteen people responded. 72% said Yes, 28% said No. In our new issue, out today, on growing up in an interfaith family, we asked, "Can a person be half-Jewish?"

We received the most respondents to our December holidays question: "Christmas music: Love it or hate it?" The 69 respondents were evenly split. Half said it was "OK in limited doses," while slightly more than a quarter (28%) said "Love it" and slightly under a quarter (22%) said "Hate it." Count me in the last category.

For most of the questions, there was a clear winner. For the Death and Mourning issue (April 10, 2007), we asked "Is it OK to sit shiva for one's non-Jewish parents?" 78% of the 18 respondents said "Yes, of course," while 22% said "No, mourning is more about the religion of the deceased than the religion of the living."

But in some cases, the questions divided our readers into equal-sized camps. For our Passover/Easter issue, we asked "Is it harder to be non-Jewish at a Passover seder, or Jewish at an Easter dinner?" 47% of the 45 respondents said "Non-Jewish at a Passover seder" and 53% said "Jewish at an Easter dinner." I can see both sides of the coin on this one, but I would bet if we had more non-Jewish readers, the poll results would be quite different.

For the Jan. 30, 2007, issue on Latino-Jewish Relationships and Hispanic Jews, we asked "Which culture has the best food: Spanish, Mexican or Jewish?" 40% of the 15 respondents said Spanish, one-third said Mexican and 27% said Jewish. I demand a recount. You have to be loco to think Jewish food is better than Mexican or Spanish food. Corned beef and matzos ball soup are great and all, but that's about the limit of great Jewish food. Mexican, meanwhile, has tacos, burritos, guacamole, carne asada, carnitas, salsa, chicken mole and a lot of other great foods that end in vowels, while no Jewish dining experience (at least outside the home of your grandmother) can compare to tapas and sangria with friends.

Overall, our readers are a rather tolerant lot. 79% of the 24 respondents to the question "Can you be Jewish if you don't believe in God?" (May 8, 2007) said Yes. When we asked "If interfaith parents adopt a child of non-Jewish or unknown descent, should that child have to convert to be considered Jewish?" (Nov. 7, 2006), 61% of the 18 respondents said No.

But you seem to draw the line at anything that smacks of mixing religions. Half of you (well, 24 of you) said it is not OK for a child to undergo a baptism and a bris (May 22, 2007). And when we asked "Is Messianic Judaism a legitimate religion or evangelical Christianity in disguise?", the overwhelming majority (83% of 29 voters) said it was evangelical Christianity in disguise. Nearly two-thirds of you (14) said Hebrew schools should not accept children being raised in two religions (Jan. 4, 2007). Interestingly, this distaste for syncretism doesn't extend to Buddhism, as only 18% of the 11 respondents said you couldn't be Jewish and Buddhist at the same time (Nov. 21, 2006).

When it comes to your own interfaith relationships, your experiences are all over the map. 63% of the 24 respondents to our June 5, 2007, question said they've never hid their interfaith relationship from their parents, but one-quarter said they didn't tell their parents until they were serious. Of the 25 respondents to the question "Do you attend services at your partner's place of worship?" (Sept. 26, 2006) 12% said "Never," while 24% said "Frequently." 24% said "Only for life cycle events," 24% said "Only for life cycle events and major holidays" and 16% said "More frequently than life cycle events and major holidays, but not regularly."

We're All Intermarried

At our conference a few weeks ago, Rabbi Sam Gordon, of Congregation Sukkat Shalom in Wilmette, Ill., led a fascinating session on what he called "sociograms." He had everyone at the session--who were mostly Jewish--break up into different groups based on how they're different from their husband, wife or significant other. His point was to show that all marriages are intermarriages in some way, whether it be across religious, cultural, educational, political, class or personality lines.

In a column for The (New York) Jewish Week, "The Other Kind of Mixed Marriage," Abby Wisee Schachter eloquently demonstrates this point. She says:

I thought that when I fell in love and got married to a Jewish man, I was home free. After all, there’s been a ton of hand wringing across the Jewish community about intermarriage between Jews and non-Jews. But I wasn’t going to have any of that kind of trouble. My husband and I are both Jewish, so we weren’t facing the complications of combining two very different traditions into our new home, right?

Wrong. It turns out that building a new Jewish life together — even between two Jews — creates a whole series of challenges, some of which aren’t so unlike intermarriage.

The fact is that Jewish life in America is so varied, and each person’s Jewish experience is so different, that it almost seems as if every Jewish marriage is an intermarriage.

Abby was raised in an Orthodox-affiliated, but not particularly observant, home, while her husband Ben was raised in a Reform-affiliated home. When they were planning the wedding ceremony, her family wanted an Orthodox rabbi to preside and his family wanted their congregation's cantor to participate. She wanted him to walk seven circles around her, and he protested.

Abby also shares stories of a couple where one partner was from a Conservative home and the other is from a Reform home, but became more observant as he got older. Another couple includes one partner from a secular Jewish family and one partner from an Orthodox family. And marrying within the same movement doesn't guarantee a smooth ride either--she speaks with another couple where each partner hails from a different extreme of the Conservative movement.

Recognizing that every marriage is an intermarriage allows us to see Jewish/non-Jewish intermarriage as one gradation on a scale, and not a point of no Jewish return. If intra-Jewish intermarried couples can overcome their sometimes significant differences in religious observance, so can interreligious intermarried couples.

A Tangled Knot

As promised, I'm returning to "Untying a civil knot," where Rabbi Shammai Engelmayer argues that the state should have nothing to do with marriage.

His argument needs to be explained in detail before it can be refuted or critiqued. His fundamental assumption is that marriage is a religious act, and under the principle of the separation of church and state, it should therefore be separate from the state's control.

He believes the state should instead issue a "civil commitment certificate." This certificate would essentially be a contract that couples would sign where they would make certain legally binding promises regarding "the exclusivity of the union, how it is to be terminated and what the responsibilities of each party will be at termination and beyond." Any couple who wants to make their marriage in a religious institution legally binding in the secular world would be obligated to get a civil commitment certificate.

The benefit of this solution is twofold, he argues: one, it frees civil courts from the expense, time and pain of determining divorce settlements because everyone who has a civil commitment certificate will essentially have a prenup; and two, it resolves the contentious issue of same-sex marriage because it would be illegal to bar two homosexual men or women from entering into a contract together.

This may smell of the "civil union" solution to same-sex marriage but Rabbi Engelmayer says it's not; there is no "separate but equal" because not even heterosexual couples can get married by the state under his solution. Everyone would be subject to the same rules in the state's eyes; only religious institutions would be able to decide, as they do know, who they do or don't marry.

The radical simplicity of his solution is very appealing, but it has problems in application. Even if the state never uses the term marriage when issuing civil commitment certificates, couples who have received the certificates will not refer to themselves as "civilly committed." They will refer to themselves as married.

If they, or other couples, feel that signing a civil commitment certificate is not sufficient enough to feel married, then they will seek out religious institutions that will formally recognize their commitment to each other. Since many religious institutions will refuse to recognize same-sex or interfaith marriages (or other rarer arrangements, like incestuous pairings or pairings between minors), there will likely develop a booming business in fake religions that are established solely for the purpose of marrying anyone who wants to get married. (Such organizations, like the Unified Life Church Monastery, already exist.) While this development may contribute to the competitive nature of America's religious marketplace, it will also have the unintended consequence of cheapening traditional organized religion.

Looking at it from the other angle, what of couples who get married in a church or synagogue but are uninterested in signing a civil commitment certificate? Would their marriages be considered legally binding? My guess is that they would, based on the principle of oral contracts. Even if two members of a couple don't sign any legally binding paperwork, I imagine a court is going to have a hard time saying that they didn't make a legal commitment to each other when they recited their oaths and said, "I do." Which means that if a religiously married, non-civilly committed couple gets a divorce, the courts will still have to decide on their settlement, the same way they do now.

From a political standpoint as well, I doubt that either the proponents or opponents of same-sex marriage will be satisfied with this solution. Proponents of same-sex marriage will argue that they aren't merely looking for legal recognition of their partnership; they are looking for legal recognition of their marriage, which is a big difference. Opponents of same-sex marriage will not be happy because civil commitment will equalize heterosexual and homosexual couples under the eyes of the law, which is the last thing they want. Moreover, this solution will essentially make marriage less legally binding than civil commitment, which will cheapen the institution of marriage in everyone's eyes.

A better solution, I think, is to expand current marriage licenses to include more explicit, detailed language on the obligations of both parties. There could exist a standard marriage license template while others could continue to draw up addendums to the marriage license, in the same way that some couples currently agree to prenuptial agreements.

But while the problem of courts having to adjudicate on messy divorce settlements can be resolved with some tweaking of the law, there is simply no solution to the same-sex marriage debate that won't enrage the right or the left. In my opinion, the simplest and fairest solution (and yes, the most controversial one as well) is to legalize same-sex marriage completely, following the template that already exists for heterosexual marriages. As is their right, religious institutions that choose not to recognize or sanctify same-sex marriages could continue to do so. It's not as clean as Engelmayer's solution, but brave political solutions never are.

Why Jewish Life? (Part II)

While we don't push non-Jewish spouses in intermarriages to convert to Judaism, converts often have an extraordinary perspective on Judaism. Where born Jews have the culture first and then learn the religion, converts find the religion first and then learn the culture. This outsider's perspective on Jewish identity can lead to amazing insights into Judaism; they are capable of shining a bright light on Judaism's forgotten virtues as well as its hidden flaws.

Gail Nord Ginsburg, a former pastor at an evangelical mega-congregation, wrote a brilliant piece for the World Jewish Digest last month called "Why Choose Judaism?" (login required) She is a rare kind of convert: one who was immersed and deeply engaged in a different religious tradition before choosing Judaism. As such, she can offer a comparative analysis of Judaism that few others can.

Her piece is simultaneously a tribute to Judaism and a critique of the way it is lived and practiced in modern-day America.

Between the ideal Judaism I encountered in my studies and the reality as I found it lived today, I discovered a vast and disturbing gulf. This observation comes not only from my experience, but also through the stories that many Jews-by-choice have shared with me. And I have no doubt that many of the challenges faced by converts are factors driving born Jews away from involvement in their religious tradition.

In Judaism I continue to discover many things that are great and positive … and others that aren’t so great at all. I have distilled these down to seven key factors. I hope that my outsider/insider perspective will be illuminating to lifelong Jews, especially those who are in leadership positions, as well as encouraging to those who have chosen or are interested in choosing Judaism.

She first points to the value of the Jewish conception of God: "the vision of God as radically one and possessing attributes of kindness, justice, compassion, graciousness, patience, faithfulness and forgiveness... The idea of a unifying, creative and sustaining force behind and within reality is coherent with the discoveries of science." She says, "Islam and Christianity are growing, as is Orthodox Judaism, because they place God first. Non-orthodox Judaism must follow suit."

She then speaks about Judaism's amazing ethical system, saying, "The Torah and Talmud offer an amazingly accurate assessment of human moral weakness," while acknowledging that "The laws need to be reinterpreted according to the times."

She insightfully brings her experience as a Christian pastor to bear when she speaks about Jewish worship:

Judaism’s ancient worship traditions, enhanced by the beauty of the Hebrew language (which my graduate school Hebrew professor called “the language of heaven”), have the potential to be moving, deeply spiritual and inspiring. But over time, the accretion of tradition has left services interminably long and boring to all but the most devout.

Rapidly growing Christian congregations feature short, engaging, participatory services. The sermons are focused on God but always with an eye toward providing real help for individuals trying to make their lives better. There is no justification for any worship service that lasts longer than one-and-a-half hours. I can’t imagine that God wants us to be bored to death on a weekly basis. Services are generally not spiritually moving, and they tend to ignore God and focus on secular topics such as Israel, politics, communal affairs and the like. Siddurim should include transliteration; page numbers should be announced; and everything should be made clear enough that a visitor would be able to participate and feel comfortable.

She continues with this theme with her section on "Welcoming the stranger":

Judaism calls for special protection and courtesy extended toward the stranger...

Growing Christian congregations place an emphasis on making their services accessible to first-timers and ensuring that everyone feels at home. There is a positive, even celebratory, attitude toward outsiders who join the ranks... I have heard too many horror stories (and experienced a bit of this myself) of Jewish families treating the non-Jewish partner, or even the converted spouse, with unkindness and derision. Who in his right mind would want to belong to a religious tradition where people shun and mistreat others?

After speaking briefly about the appeal of spiritual Judaism, she gives "Remembering our purpose" as the sixth point. This is the whole "light unto the nations" thing, the idea that Jews can bring justice and holiness to the world outside the Jewish community. Regardless of your feelings on this idea, Ginsburg does a good job of explaining the appeal of this idea:

The Children of Israel were called into a covenantal relationship with God and given the Torah so that we could be a “light unto the nations,” according to the prophet Isaiah. What a beautiful idea! We have a lot to offer the world. We have an amazing ethical tradition, one that is sorely needed in the world today. We honor working for justice, loving truth and serving God’s good creation.

Her final point is on the emphasis Judaism places on living a holy life:

This is one place where we clearly have an advantage over the Christians. While other religious traditions focus on the life to come, or downplay the significance of everyday existence in favor of disembodied spirituality, Judaism places us squarely in the moment. The question always before us is halachik—how do I walk in the path of holiness in this moment? I love observing kashrut because every time I eat I think about God. We are given brachot to say in a wonderful variety of circumstances, from seeing a rainbow to putting on new clothes for the first time to eating a meal. In this way all of life is imbued with a sense of deep meaning and connection with God. Our tradition is family-oriented; in fact, it is centered on the home. Our holidays bring us together year after year, and hopefully serve to reconnect us not only with our family and friends but with our tradition of holiness.

In less than 2,000 words, Ginsburg pulls of an incredible feat: she simultaneously makes a persuasive argument for Judaism for secular and unaffiliated Jews and people considering conversion while also offering a critique of Jewish life that has great value to leaders immersed in Judaism. Her insight is illuminating for both the novice and the expert.

Some Personal Business, and Some Plain Old Business

I would like to share a little news with our faithful readers. Last week while on a vacation in Hawaii, I got engaged to a wonderful non-Jewish woman! We've been dating longer than two people of our age should, and you can probably blame me for that. So the whole debate on intermarriage has just gotten a bit more personally meaningful for me, and I'm sure issues in our relationship will occasionally surface on the blog (although I'm not planning on turning this into a play-by-play of our wedding planning. IFF's wedding blog, which will be coming soon, will be a forum for that.).

In other news...

InterfaithFamily.com is a non-profit but it appears that some entrepreneurs are getting savvy to the profit potential from interfaith couples. Along with the apparently endless number of rabbis and other officiants advertising their services online, two new business ventures that hope to tap the intermarried market recently came to our attention:

Why Jewish Life?

My Yom Kippur experience was especially meaningful this year--I hope yours was too. It's a wonderful opportunity to reflect on and evaluate my life, and consider what I can do better. I feel I have an entire clean slate of a New Year to fill, and the prospect is very exciting.

I think my main motivation in founding InterfaithFamily.com, Inc. was my belief, based on my own experience and that of many friends, that participating in Jewish life can be a great source of meaning and fulfillment, not just for Jews, but in particular for interfaith couples. The Yom Kippur opportunity to reflect and evaluate is one example of that. Coincidentally or not, a wonderful article in Sunday's New York Times Magazine is another great example.

So the Torah is a Parenting Guide by Emily Bazelon tells the story of Wendy Mogel, a child psychologist who wrote a book, The Blessing of a Skinned Knee: Using Jewish Teachings to Raise Self-Reliant Children. As the book's title indicates, Mogel finds relevance in ancient Jewish texts to the most current of issues, in her case, raising children in our modern world. The book has become something of a best-seller--and not just to Jewish parents.

For many years I was privileged to take an early morning Talmud class taught by a wonderful Orthodox rabbi, Reuven Cohn. I was repeatedly struck then by the relevance of Jewish texts to modern issues. When I went back to school as part of my career change, I wrote a paper for Robert Reich's class on social policy that applied lessons from the Talmud tractate on Pe'ah (about leaving the corners of the fields for the poor to harvest) to current welfare policy.

I have often felt that the Jewish community does not do nearly a good enough job in "marketing" the appealing aspects of Jewish life, again, not just to Jewish couples, but in particular to interfaith couples. Doing a better job of that continues to be one of InterfaithFamily.com's most important goals, as this bright New Year begins.

Amy's Thoughts on Mourning

This is Amy, the Community Connections Coordinator, blogging for the first time ever - from Micah's account (mine's not set up yet). I just couldn't wait until it was set up, because I had some thoughts about today, being that it's the 5th anniversary of what I don't think any of us will ever be able to look at the same, the date, 9/11. I was thinking about how in Judaism, we have this concept of a one year period of mourning, and then when it's over, we recognize the anniversary of a death each by commemorating a "yahrzeit" - literally a remembrance of a person or an event. A yahrzeit can be a powerful thing; the wounds are no longer fresh, but each year, we never forget and publicly or privately express our own pain of loss and remembrance.

I started thinking about how on this anniversary, even thought it's been 5 years later, how raw many of us still feel. I take comfort in Jewish death rituals, but I wonder how many others haven't been able to rid themselves of their pain. I surround myself in community, and in family, and in friends, but today, I feel sad. If you are in an interfaith relationship, or you are part of an interfaith family, I wonder how (or if) your mourning changes. I share the same traditions and customs with my husband - but what if he practiced another religion than I did? Would each of our own mourning practices comfort each other? How does that get reconciled? Or does it?

When we lose someone or something, we often turn to comfort rituals, things that we know and understand. If you grew up in a Catholic houshold, you might expect to be having a wake. If you're Jewish, your concept might be to expect 7 days of sitting shiva (a period of mourning where guests come to your home and as a comunity prayers are said). Sometimes we don't know what we're "supposed" to do when we have a loss. Our comfort rituals as a country 5 years ago brought many of us together, in churches, in synagogues, in mosques, in town halls, and more. Our mourning was felt as a country, and I wonder how our faith(s) have continued to help us heal - or has it?

I heard the djs on the radio on my ride in this morning talking about how numb they felt. They talked about the thousands of families who were still in mourning, even now 5 years later. It made me think about my own numbness, and my own mourning. No, I didn't lose anyone personally during this atrocity. But, still I mourned. So I pulled into the parking lot and did my own moment of silence, and made a mental kaddish (the prayer we say when someone dies or on their yahrzeit). Then I thought about those families - and no doubt many of you, that did your own moments of silence today. I'd like to believe that our prayers were all mingled together.

Tomorrow is a new day, but as we exit our comfort ritual zones, I will think about how we are all in this together, and how our mourning is mixed with our different traditions.