Ramblings about an Interfaith Marriage or Proud Parents of Free Thinkers

I grew up in a Baptist church in a rapidly growing southern city. The church was widely known for its progressive and intellectual, if not liberal, approach to scripture.  The church had been lead since its inception by bold, outspoken ministers. Theologians with Doctorate degrees from prestigious universities. These powerful men were among the city’s first to stand up for integration and to speak out against the war in Vietnam, never shying from controversy. But in my childhood memory, it was always accepted as a socially appropriate answer to the inevitable southern question of, “Where do you go to Church?” I don’t remember my family using the word Christian to describe ourselves. If the subject came up, we said that we were Baptist. But it was undeniably a Christian church. The progressive stands on social issues were firmly founded in Biblical scholarship.

My wife did not grow up in a Baptist Church. She grew up in a Synagogue. The technical term for our relationship is “interfaith marriage” since neither of us converted to the religion of the other. A mixed marriage. In the south. I can’t say that I ever felt persecuted or judged because I married a Jew. I did become more keenly aware of our society’s insensitivity toward all non-Christians among us.  I noticed the billboards dooming my wife and children to hell a little more than I probably would have otherwise. And I felt my wife’s quiet discomfort at Christmas time.  The discomfort that comes when you are bombarded with songs, and lights, and ribbons and bows that say that you are an outsider.

You don’t belong.

But mostly I have experienced curiosity. People either had questions about how we raised our kids or about what insight I might have into Jewish beliefs.  I became the person you could safely ask without worrying about the insensitive nature of the question.

The most common question I have been asked in regard to our children goes like this:

“How do you raise your children? Aren’t they confused?”
People started asking this before our oldest daughter could even speak.  I’d answer, “Yes, she is. I always seem to lose her around the part that can only be explained in Hebrew!”
Once she was about five, I began to answer rhetorically, “Does your child find it confusing that there are three Gods which are really one God and that’s why we say the Trinity because there is The Father, and The Son, and The Holy Ghost? Oh and that the Holy Ghost is not really a ghost but a God, but not different from the other two Gods because there is only one G-d? I mean, really! Do we really think five year olds understand any of the gobbledy-gook that we throw at them?  Virgin births, snakes with apples, and scary stories about earth destroying floods ordered by the God who loves us unconditionally?”

When we adopted our younger daughter from China these questions seemed to stop.  We added just one too many dimensions to our family dynamic for anyone to even be able to decide which question about raising kids in a virtual mini United Nations was the most pressing one.

So folks moved on to seeking out my deep and vast knowledge about Judaism. Ha ha.  There are two questions that seemed to be foremost in the minds of most Christians.  The first one is easy and could be knocked out quickly. But I might have occasionally dragged it out a little by not giving the simple answer first. It depended on my mood and if I was looking to have a little fun.  The conversation might have gone like this: Random Christian or RC as I’ll refer to them for the rest of this post would ask, “Do they believe in Jesus?”

STOP right there.  I have to interrupt this conversation example to say that it is OK to use the word Jew.  Many of my Christian friends and family try to avoid using that word.  FYI, Jew is not a derogatory term.  You don’t have to say “she is of the Jewish faith” or insert the word “they” like in the question above. It is perfectly OK to say “Do Jews believe in Jesus?” And referring to Jews as “The Jewish” is just wrong and clangs on my ears!


RC: "Do They believe in Jesus?"
Me: "Jesus was a Jew." (Occasionally someone might argue this point) 

RC:  "But do they Believe in him?"
Me: "You mean that he was a skilled Jewish carpenter?"

RC: “No. Do they believe that Jesus is the Son of God?"

OK.  So now I try to explain the simple truth. I explain that Jesus is not a part of Judaism. I say that asking that question is like asking if Christians believe in Mohammed or Buddha.

RC: "But do they believe that he existed? That he rose from the dead?"

Me: "They have no opinion on that. The Torah ends way before Jesus was around." 

RC: "So they don't believe in Him?"

This is where I typically give up and just say, "no". 



The other common question asked of me is, “What do they believe happens when you die?”

As Christians, we seem obsessed with this subject. We seem to spend more time worrying about what happens after we die than what happens while we live. Why is that? I have to admit, that when my future wife and I  were dating, as soon as I had enough nerve built up I asked this question myself.

“We don’t talk about it”,  she said, very matter-of-factly.

This was not the answer I expected. I pressed for more, “But what do you believe?” She answered the same as before, but added that we should not live our lives a particular way because we get some sort of reward at the end of it. We should live our lives in a way that makes the world a better place because that is the right thing to do.

It was clear that she was not going to answer this question any differently.  This was her answer. I’m not sure if she was taught this or if it was something that was just understood. I think her mother did say to me at some point that life should be lived according to G-d’s will because he created us and that is enough in itself. And you know what, it is enough. But doesn’t G-d always do more than enough?

At Passover we sing a song called Dayenu. The refrain that repeats over and over is that G-d always does more than enough. If he had only delivered us from slavery, that would have been enough. But he then defeats the pursuing army, gives us commandments and delivers us to Israel. He never stops giving.

So I’m still a Baptist on a journey with a wife who is still a Jew. My kids are not confused. When they were young children we assured them that G-d was the creator of all things, that he loved us all, and nothing could separate us from that love.  Isn’t that what little ones want to hear and find comfort in?

As they have grown they have been exposed to both faiths. They have been taught that no single religion has a monopoly on G-d. The creator has worked in the lives of different people in different ways.  My children are free to question and learn and find the beliefs and values that are genuine to them. To me, that seems like the opposite of confusion.

In my “about “section on this blog I talk about perspective.  And I respect that we all come to this place with our own experience and circumstance. But I do have to say this. Don’t tell me that the beautiful, sparkling, altruistic, social justice-loving souls that are my wife and kids will be condemned to eternal hell fire by a
loving G-d.

The G-d of Love, Mercy, and Grace would never command this, let alone allow it. Peace be with you all.

.

Finding Balance in a Wobbly World or Cell Phones in Heaven

It feels like the earth is wobbling on its axis. The stars don’t line up in the sky quite the way they used to. I need to get to the ocean so I can look at the horizon and make sure it’s still there. Is there still a sharp line that separates the ocean from the sky? Or has the sea begun to leak into the atmosphere blurring the delineation between heaven and earth? I need evidence that our world is not tumbling off course. I need assurance that the sun is still holding fast to us, not letting us slip from the safety of its gravitational embrace.

My mother died less than three months ago. I hadn’t realized that she was responsible for maintaining the balance of the earth. But it must be so, because since she has left everything seems off kilter.  I find myself searching for something to hold on to. Or someone to hold me so that I stay on my feet.

Who is going to hold out their arms to hug me every single time they see me? Who can I talk to on the phone every night? Who will be interested in my cholesterol levels or my blood pressure?  Who will tell me how I need to treat mouth ulcers or a scalp condition?  Who will take daily interest in every detail of the lives of my two daughters? Who will be promoting my wife’s next book to every person she encounters?  Who will risk driving everyone crazy to make sure that we all get together at the holidays as a family? And most importantly, who is going to tell me just how handsome I am? 

The answer to all these questions had always been “Mom”. 

A couple of weeks ago I had lunch with my brother and he said, “How can someone be here all this time, and in the next instant they are gone?” Exactly. I want to pick up the phone and ask her. Reading my thoughts, he says that they need cell phone service in heaven. I laugh, and later that day, imagine how the conversation would go if we could just make that call: “Well, that’s just ridiculous. I haven’t gone anywhere. I don’t know how in the world you could think that I would leave any of you. I can’t possibly go anywhere. There is too much to do.  I have to take care of things.”  But Mom, I would protest. I haven’t seen you in weeks. She would reply, “That is the most ridiculous thing I have ever heard. I’m right here. I haven’t gone anywhere. I don’t know what you are talking about.”

And as always, my mother is right. It is ridiculous. She has not left us. All I have to do is call and listen for her to answer.

I wrap up our phone conversation, “Thanks Mom. I’m really glad we talked. You made me feel better. I know that you haven’t gone anywhere. Ok. Bye, I love you.”

I want to call my brother and thank him for making me think of that question to ask Mom. I might not have called if he had not planted the suggestion. Who knew that there were cell phones in heaven?

Maybe when I wake up tomorrow I’ll remember that I can just call her whenever I want. She’ll tell me to use Peroxyl for the mouth ulcers and the Rite-Aid brand of dandruff shampoo. She’ll ask how my Doctor’s visit went. I’ll fill her in on what the girls are up to. She’ll ask when my wife’s next book is coming out. And she’ll tell me how proud she is of all of us and just how handsome I am.

Maybe tomorrow the earth will right itself. The stars will take their normal positions. Maybe the sun will shine a reminder my way telling me that it is holding fast to us, that we are safe,  and that my mother is just a phone call away.

She never left the place she had been all along. Our Hearts. 

"You think the dead we love ever truly leave us? You think that we don't recall them more clearly than ever in times of great trouble?" Albus Dumbledore, The Greatest Wizard to ever Live