My 15 minutes of fame last Shabbat/final days of Pesach: "Hey, I saw you in the Washington Jewish Week!" The print version even had my smiling face on the final jump page (a photo Mike had taken!), but the online article about adult children of intermarriage can be found there, without the photos. Also, alas, without the list of resources that were in the print edition that I thought were interesting & valuable. Ah well!

For those of you who don't want to hunt it up, here it is! (With some MiriyaB editorial comments...)

4/4/2007 8:59:00 PM

Making 'halves' whole Adult children of intermarrieds carve out their own niche by Sue Fishkoff and Richard Greenberg Aaron Hirsch considers himself "half-Jewish." He grew up in a secular household in Chevy Chase, the son of a Catholic mother and a German Jewish father. Hirsch, 39, is engaged to marry a woman he describes as "part Muslim" in a nonreligious ceremony. Rebecca Boggs' mother is Jewish. Her father was raised as a Protestant by his Cuban Catholic mother and his Protestant Scotch Irish father. [Neatly eliding the question of what religious tag to put on my father today: not Jewish, but not a practicing Christian; someone who believes there is one God...doubtless it's easier to stick to relating family religious streams than to affix theological labels [deist? universalist?]) Boggs, 33, grew up in Arlington, was raised as a Jew [and bat mitzvahed at Arlington-Fairfax Jewish Congregation, now called Etz Chayim], married a convert to Judaism, and they now live as committed Conservative Jews in Washington, D.C., members of Adas Israel Congregation. [I was always a Conservative Jew, and intellectually "committed" to it--much more observant & involved now, but my basic community and ideology have changed very little -- which is why I don't see myself as any kind of ba'alat tshuvah abandoning my old bad ways...] Robin Margolis had a devout Christian upbringing. Her father was an Episcopalian naval officer from an aristocratic Midwestern banking family. Her mother? She, too, was proudly Christian and had the lineage to prove it. Or so it seemed. Margolis was in her 30s when she found out her late mother was Jewish. It was 1984 and she was cleaning out her mother's closet when she found a bag of old documents. The woman she knew as Phyllis Miles was born Phyllis Margolis, and had spent decades running away from her religious and ethnic background. "It was pretty staggering," says Margolis, now 56, who wholeheartedly embraced her Jewishness once she made that startling discovery about her mother. In fact, the Takoma Park resident is now studying for admission to a rabbinic program. The tales told by Margolis, Hirsch and Boggs exemplify the complexity and diversity of a growing, but sometimes overlooked, subgroup the adult children of intermarried parents whom Margolis calls a collective "mystery wrapped in an enigma." [Nice nod to Churchill on Russia as "a riddle, wrapped in a mystery, inside an enigma"--a quote I'd known, but not its conclusion: "--but perhaps there is a key. That key is Russian national interest." So I would ask: what is the key for us as adult children of intermarriage? Jewish interest? A sense that we are free and welcome to engage in Jewish communal life without disowning other parts of our families or ourselves?] In many instances, their lives are emotionally complex, the result of growing up with parents from vastly different backgrounds. Even those raised unequivocally as Jews have an entire side of their family that is not Jewish. Although communal outreach to intermarried couples is burgeoning, some of their adult offspring have struggled to find their place in the Jewish community. Hence, in September 2005, Margolis founded The Half-Jewish Network (www.half-jewish.net), an online support group for anyone with a Jewish parent, whether they identify as Jewish, Christian or something else. "I don't push anything," she says. "All I can do is offer them warmth and welcome." According to the 2000-2001 National Jewish Population Survey, 360,000 Americans aged 18 to 29 have intermarried parents. Drawing from that rapidly expanding pool, Margolis' organization now has about 150 members, and that number is growing at a rate of about three per week. She figures she'll have 1,000 to 2,000 members in two years. Although communal outreach tends to focus on intermarried couples rather than their adult children, "there is a light at the end of the tunnel" for the second generation, Margolis says. "Many Jewish organizations are showing an extreme interest in unwrapping the mystery, which makes me very happy." Unfortunately, few of them are in the Washington area, according to Margolis. Margolis says she was often greeted with, at best, "chilly politeness" when she went synagogue shopping in the 1980s and early 1990s. "I felt like I was banging my head against the wall," she adds, explaining that she carved out her own institutional path by founding a Jewish Renewal women's chavurah in 1992 that served the entire Washington area. She disbanded it in 2006 in order to devote more time to helping children of the intermarried. Jewish outreach to intermarried families, no matter the denomination, is predicated on the hope that the children will be raised as Jews. Experts stress the importance of giving such children a good Jewish education, as research shows that this makes them much likelier to become committed Jewish adults. But it's no guarantee. Children ultimately choose their own path, despite their parents' carefully laid plans. Siblings from one family, raised the same way by intermarried parents, sometimes make different religious choices. [Or sometimes pretty same-y ones. I'd be astounded if my brothers and I ever diverged in paths as much as the other siblings described below.] Margolis' three younger brothers are all "sincere, committed Christians" following the Protestant faith in which they were raised. One is even a minister. None chose their sister's Jewish path. As for Boggs, her two brothers both had bar mitzvah ceremonies [Dad e-mailed me: "I note that it refers to your brothers' bar mitzvahs but not to your bat"], and one of them is engaged to marry a non-Jew. [Mom e-mailed me: "[your brother] told me that he and [his fiancee] plan to raise their kids Jewish"] Hirsch has a younger brother who identifies more as a Christian than a Jew. As for Hirsch himself, Judaism has virtually no religious impact on him. But his Jewish cultural background bubbles up and insinuates itself into his life from time to time for example, when he encounters anti-Semitism. "Maybe there's a lot more going on inside me than I thought," he says after recounting two such incidents. For many children of intermarried parents, choosing a religion can smack of favoring one parent over the other, with attendant feelings of guilt, anger and abandonment. That's particularly true, and hurtful, when parents divorce. Marty Wasserman converted to Judaism after her divorce two decades ago in Santa Fe, N.M., and began raising her two children, Max and Meredith Murray, as Jews. Max, now a 26-year-old officer in the Coast Guard stationed in Baltimore, dropped out of Hebrew school after a year, saying he didn't bond with the other kids. He ended up spending most of his teenage years with his Catholic father. He attended a Catholic high school, chose Catholic University and today considers himself Catholic. Meredith Murray, now 24, stayed with her mother, had a bat mitzvah ceremony in Israel and flourished in Hebrew school, where she made her closest friends. Like her brother, she went to Catholic high school, but unlike him, she always felt Jewish. She stood back when the other students took communion or intoned Christian prayers, even when it embarrassed her to be singled out. A District resident, she, like her mother, identifies today as Jewish and goes to synagogue sporadically. Her boyfriend, Dan, is not Jewish. She took him to a Passover seder last year at the home of a Conservative friend, who went on and on about the Jews as the chosen people. Murray was embarrassed. "I remember apologizing to Dan when we left, saying not all Jews are that closed," she says. "I was so disgusted. I'm not sure they knew Dan isn't Jewish. It was this whole attitude of arrogance, that we are the chosen people. It was the first time I felt ashamed. It's not what I associate with Judaism. I don't believe a certain people are chosen, or superior." She expects to marry her boyfriend, and they discuss how they'll raise their children. "Dan feels strongly about not forcing kids to go to one church or another," she says, "but he wants to expose them to all different religions. I think he's thinking academically." He's very open, she adds, saying that "I'm sure if I said I want them to go to Hebrew school and temple, he wouldn't object. I really like the social aspect of religion, letting kids be part of something, giving them a structure. I also believe you can become a spiritual person outside the walls of a church or temple." In contrast to some adult children of intermarrieds, Boggs says she has rarely felt stigmatized although she has received double-takes when her name and "Jewish" are mentioned in the same sentence. "I tell them," she says, "that any name a Jew has is a Jewish name." [Dad wrote that he especially enjoyed this line.] Intermarriage, she adds, "doesn't necessarily lead to assimilation. There is a place for the children of the intermarried. There is a place for you, even if not all of your relatives are Jewish." Sue Fishkoff writes for JTA News and Features; Richard Greenberg is WJW associate editor.

Jewish/Latina: Hola & Shalom, hermana, sistah!

Something I put on the Message Board Forum of the Half-Jewish Network, in a thread titled "Half Jewish-Half Latin":

[if you're interested in the full discussion/post by D. that I was responding to, go to the thread]

D. said: "The problem with being a halfie is other peoples insistance on telling you what you should be instead of allowing you to decide for yourself."

Agreed! So (hard as it is), I think that we should be proud of who we are and of our necessarily complicated explorations of our rich mixed heritages -- which then will allow us to decide for ourselves. And even to make different decisions along the way, at different times.

D. says: "I'm not sure how to embrace being Jewish or if I even have the right."

You absolutely have the right to explore and determine what your Jewish heritage means to you: others can give information and models for what they think "being Jewish" is or should be, but they have no right to impose them upon you as the only correct way.

My mother & her side of the family are Jewish (she grew up as a Brooklyn Jew like Diana's dad), my father & his are not: he was born in Cuba to a Cuban Catholic mom & American Protestant dad, but raised in Kentucky and didn't learn Spanish until high school or college. My brothers & I are Jews, raised Jewish, and also aware of our Hispanic heritage--but without much "content" to that last part (my dad's parents died when we were all quite young, we're not in touch with that much of the Cuban part of our family, etc.--though we all did learn Spanish and I used to write/phone my great-grandmother in Miami in it when she was still alive, through my college years). So in a way it sounds like mine is something of the flip side of your experience: I feel thoroughly Jewish, and I have interest in my Latina side but wasn't immersed in that culture growing up.

I just checked the website for Makor (92nd St Y) in NYC and see that the main event featured there right now is the upcoming Feria Artistica weeklong celebration of Latino Jewish culture, with a big kickoff event April 29: http://www.92y.org/shop/category.asp?category=888Feria%5FArtistica888&adsource=mb_fera
Even though we are both Jewish and Latina but not from the same sides, it could be interesting to see how those 2 cultures go together...

It sounded from one of your posts like you live in NYC? And that you're more interested in cultural than in religious Jewish stuff? I would think that there should be lots of interesting Jewish cultural stuff at places like MAKOR/the 92nd St Y: I don't live in NYC but I have friends who do, so if you'd be interested in my finding out more for what you're specifically interested in/where you live or hang out, I'd be happy to. One of my best friends in NYC is a woman who converted to Judaism (on her own, not in a relationship with someone) about 10 years ago, so she knows what it's like to "join" a community and a culture as an adult, having been brought up outside it though with some interest in it.

I've only had good experiences, generally, with my Jewishness and mixed background. My husband converted to Judaism and similarly has had mostly good experiences (more of a rocky road in Europe). It may be that the more traditional someone is, the more they do see Jewishness as a closed club where only certain people who pass muster are welcome--but there are plenty of more progressive and cultural contexts where I would certainly hope that's not the case.

I hope that some of the information at places like interfaithfamily.com (which I think had an issue of their web magazine about Jews & Latinos recently?) and JOI.org would also help you feel more welcomed and to know that we are not alone, and there is institutional support for opening, not closing, the door to people like you & me. Anyway -- though I may not be someone who's "on your Jewish side" geneologically, I'm definitely "on your (Jewish) side" as someone else of mixed descent who wants to welcome you. Maybe your mom & my dad aren't the people that Brooklyn Jews expected your dad & my mom to marry -- but they did, and now you & I are here & laying claim to all parts of our heritage.

Shalom y un abrazo,

Rebecca

Sensible op-ed in the Forward by Shaul Kelner, which begins:

"If you happen to have missed the latest round in the debate over interfaith marriage, outreach and in-reach, fret not. This dog has been chasing its tail for nearly two decades, and shows no sign of tiring or jumping out of the deep groove it has cut as it runs in circles."

Ain't that the truth!

"Intermarriage has since become a normal part of most American Jews’ friendship and family networks, but the conceptual frameworks that policymakers and expert observers offer seem strangely frozen in time, as if the experience of the past 17 years has meant nothing."

Unh-hunh. And to judge by many of the comments posted on the op-ed, it continues to mean nothing to those who have already made up their minds.

Are you a FrankenJew?

Not the term I'd choose, but it does have a certain attention-getting value...

I've got some comments on this Jewcy blogpost. (Warning: the discourse goes downhill pretty fast!)

Happy Hanukkah to all!

Some thoughts of the season, shared with others elsewhere:

Friends of ours have a darling baby girl just over a year old who's undergoing surgery in Philadelphia while her 3 older siblings stay here in the DC area with loving family. They are devout Catholics; friends and family have been sending messages of love, support, and prayer on their CarePage. Part of mine from Friday afternoon:

Love, Faith, and Light

You are surrounded by the loving thoughts and prayers of so many of us who cannot be with you in person. I draw inspiration from what others have written, and say with them: "May God's love surround you and you see miracles in the upcoming days."

Tonight will be the first night of Hanukkah. The candles shine as a light of hope against the darkness, little by little, increasing each night until the menorah is ablaze with light. When we light the candles, we say: "Praised are You, Lord our God, Ruler of time and space, who accomplished miracles for our ancestors in ancient days, and in our time." There are miracles small and great every day--your love for each other; your lovely children. May we continue to know the miracles done in our time for us, and may your daughter have a good surgery and a speedy recovery.

Hanukkah is a holiday of prevailing against the odds, of seeking and finding strength in faith. Tomorrow in synagogue one of the readings comes from the prophet Zechariah, which couples his vision of the menorah with these words: "Not by might and not by power, but by My spirit, says the Lord of Hosts." May you be sustained by God's spirit, and by the love that we all have for you and for Gabbi. The Psalmist says, "In Your light we see light" (Psalm 36:9); in the light of the love of family and friends for you, we see God's light.

"Hope in the Lord and be strong; Take courage, and hope in the Lord." (Psalm 27)

On the commonalities in observance of the "holiday season," various as those holidays are:

Everyone could use a little more light in a dark time--all of these mid-winter holidays are about trying to increase the light against the darkness: from the menorah to Advent candles and Santa Lucia's blazing crown of candles (her day is my birthday!) to the Kwanzaa kinara, lighting candles often serves as the symbolic expression of this wish. The more the merrier, say I!

Gals and Geshem gets the greenlight!

The latest dispatch, from our recent minyan meeting's minutes:

The proposal to adopt the egalitarian version of the Geshem prayer found in the Masorti Siddur Va'ani Tefilati (distributed with the agenda) during Musaf of Shemini Atzeret was passed in a unanimous vote. Copies of the prayer in Hebrew with an English translation will be distributed during the service. It was suggested that the leyning coordinator should provide a copy of the prayer to the person leading Musaf.

When in Rome...

This JOI blogpost about Rome's Jewish community and intermarriage brought up old memories. Some very good ones of our brief contact with Jewish Rome--the world's best gefilte fish (in sweet-and-sour-tomato sauce), as part of a Shabbat dinner cooked by a wonderful older woman who lived within walking distance of the pensione where we stayed; wonderful melodies at the synagogue we went to that Friday night (founded by Jews who came mostly from Tripoli); the beautiful main synagogue and its museum...and some not-so-good ones, which I was moved to comment on there & repeat here:

On a previous visit to Italy, however, we were turned away from synagogue in Milan: we were asked whether we were Jewish, and being the honest person that he is, he replied that his conversion would take place in 3 weeks but he was not yet a Jew. "Sorry," said the 2 men doing security detail. "since we don't know you two--we could let her in, but not you." (One might wonder: how does having my word that I'm a Jew, versus his that he's not yet but is becoming one, make me inherently more trustworthy: there's something of the "All Cretans are liars" paradox here...)

"Didn't we just read in last week's Torah reading, 'There shall be one law for you, both for the stranger and for the native citizen'?" They were unmoved, but I was beginning to cry. So we left, and rejoined the rest of my family sightseeing in Milan's cathedral on a Shabbat morning, instead of in synagogue.

Luckily, that was the only time in our visits to synagogues abroad (Israel, Greece, England) and in the U.S. as a mixed couple that we were not made welcome as a couple because one of us was not Jewish. But that one casual rejection cut deeply: I'm glad we didn't have to endure it in a place where we're looking for community, and I feel for those who do. And I thank all those in my Jewish community in Arlington, VA (at what is Congregation Etz Chayim) for looking at my non-Jewish father, Jewish mother, and us 3 kids and seeing a family who's part of their community--not an outsider, a transgressor, and 3 future "victims" of assimilation whose Judaism will never stick.

I'm not going anywhere. :)

But I'm also not going to reject or abandon the non-Jewish members of my family and my husband's family, or parts of our past experiences that have to do with non-Jewish religion, in order to be where I am or go where I'm headed.