They sat before me. The couple facing me in my office asked if I would sanctify their marriage. Their names are Deena and Rob. They are members of this congregation and they are here today. She is a committed Jew; he, was raised Catholic, though he does not practice his religion today. They both grew up here in Foster City and have known each other since middle school. Judaism has always been a strong part of Deena's identity. Rob's love for Deena included embracing her as a Jew and extended even further to their mutual desire to establish a partnership based on Jewish values and practice. As they sat before me, I had to decide. Would I officiate at their wedding or not?
At some point in a Reform rabbi's career, he or she will likely be asked to officiate at an intermarriage. It is a difficult decision for most rabbis. But in today's world it is a decision that is unavoidable. According to the most recent Bay Area Jewish Community Federation Study, 62% of couples in the North Peninsula are interfaith, a significant increase over studies from previous years. Although the Reform Rabbis' organization, the Central Conference of American Rabbis, discourages mixed marriage, each Reform rabbi is free to act as his or her individual convictions and conscience lead. And regardless of one's position on officiation, Reform rabbis seek to welcome with open arms interfaith couples and their children into Jewish life, Jewish community, and the synagogue .
Interfaith officiation is an issue with which I have been struggling for almost a decade. My official position out of rabbinical school was to not officiate. On this day of deep soul-searching and reflection, I would like to share with you my process of soul-searching that led me to officiate at Deena and Rob's wedding just a little over a month ago. I share this with you on Yom Kippur because the holy day season is one of the times of the year that one's Jewish identity is affirmed publically by the act of coming here to synagogue. I share this with you today because the journey of interfaith partners reveals relevant lessons for our Jewish community as a whole, for the choices we each make, and for how we lead our own lives.
Why a rabbi decides whether to say "yes" or "no" to interfaith officiation, has nothing to do with how he or she feels toward a particular couple. A response of "no" is not personal. The main reason that a rabbi feels compelled to decline to perform an interfaith wedding is because of how he or she understands Jewish tradition. The classical understanding of the Jewish wedding does not include mixed marriage. It presumes two Jews. In the presence of witnesses, the groom says to the bride, "You are consecrated to me with this ring, according to the laws of Moses and Israel."
And yet, traditions change. I ultimately see marriage as the Massachusetts Supreme Court did, as "an evolving paradigm." Laws and customs have changed to reflect new values and realities. For example, within the traditional Jewish wedding ceremony that we call Kiddushin, a woman is acquired by her husband. In a Reform context, the meaning of Kiddushin has evolved, so that today it no longer means being set aside for marital acquisition, but rather that husband and wife are sanctified to one another. An evolving notion of the Jewish wedding ceremony had already led me and other rabbis to reinterpret the rituals in favor of women's rights and same-sex marriage.
The question of mixed marriage, though, hits a nerve. Take the reaction of my close friend's father who has refused to attend her wedding at which I will officiate in a few weeks.[1] No matter what Rachelle says to her father about their commitment to a Jewish home, that they have been studying with a rabbi, that they will join a synagogue, he believes that their choice hurts the future of the Jewish people. He believes that he has lost a daughter. While there is no excuse for the hurt that he has caused, for some of us this emotionally charged issue can challenge our notions of Jewish identity, continuity, and ultimately, survival.Ê
The statistics are alarming, adding to an atmosphere of anxiety. According to the recent Bay Area population study, only 21% of children of interfaith parents in the North Peninsula are being raised as Jews. Rabbis who will officiate in mixed marriage do not want to feel as though they are in some way perpetuating this troublesome trend. And they are right that we should be concerned. The majority of children in interfaith homes will not be raised as Jews. Based on the raw data, mixed marriage is a threat to the continuity of the Jewish people. Some rabbis simply prefer to remain in the clear arena of "no," rather than delve into the grey area of "yes, but" or "yes, if...." As one rabbi put it, we should not offer a response, "which will unlock doors we best not open." (Brian Beal)
Sometimes, though, we can get too caught up in quantity rather than quality. Couples are more than merely statistics. Each couple has a story that does not fit into a neat box, just like issues of Jewish identity and continuity do not fit into a neat box. Things are rarely black and white....unless of course, you're a penguin.
There is a touching scene in the movie, The March of the Penguins, a movie that ultimately sends a message about the commitment of families and parental love. For penguins, the process of finding a partner is black and white. The penguins walk 70 miles to their breeding ground, and after a few squawks, nuzzles, and a peck or two on the beak, they quickly find their mate. The males are, so to speak, ready in their penguin suits for the wedding. Human beings, though, don't have it so easy. Most of us who choose a life partner do so after prolonged experience and reflection. The diverse character of our communities makes it even more likely that for Jews, marriage will not be black and white. Jews come in all shapes and sizes, colors and backgrounds. As a result no Jewish home or family in contemporary America looks exactly the same. Contrary to the rabbi's view, the doors have already been opened.
Over the course of this past year, as I met more couples and listened to their stories, I felt compelled to step inside the doorway and try to navigate through the far more challenging terrain of the grey zone. I thought deeply about my understanding of the cornerstone of a Jewish marriage. As I tried to weigh our evolving understandings of tradition, and our present sociological challenges, I have come to this conclusion. The cornerstone of a Jewish marriage is the creation of a new, committed, Jewish home that adds to the life of the community and the vibrancy of the Jewish people. For an interfaith couple that is genuinely committed to establishing a Jewish home together, like my dear friend and her partner, and Deena and Rob, I believe that the wedding can be a powerful step along this journey. Rather than see a Jewish wedding as only for two Jews, I prefer to open the door a little wider and see the Jewish wedding as an opportunity for two people to build a Jewish partnership and a Jewish home together.
I acknowledge that it may be a leap of faith that such a home will be established. Ideally, I would encourage conversion to Judaism. But, I also know that it is not always realistic to set a timetable for conversion that is based solely on a wedding date. As with any marriage, there are no guarantees. It is a risk and an opportunity.
My college Hillel rabbi, Rabbi Al as he was called on campus, summed it up best when he said, "It finally dawned on me that sometimes a given mixed-marriage may actually serve the interests of the Jewish community...There are clearly situations in which mixed marriages will result in Jewish continuity and will strengthen the fabric of Jewish life. In such situations, I would argue that rabbis should be present for these couples, playing the role of mekarev, drawing them near to Judaism and the Jewish people, not estranging or rejecting them." (Meditations of a Maverick Rabbi, Al Axelrad)
One of the most powerful moments for a rabbi is standing under the chuppah, the wedding canopy, with a couple. The chuppah, the symbol of the first Jewish home, is a fragile structure. It is open on all its sides, vulnerable to all the elements, but it stands firmly on four solid poles and a covering above offers security and protection. Like the chuppah, I believe that we need poles and a cover, certain standards that will help to support and secure the future Jewish home of an interfaith couple. With these poles in mind, my position evolved so that I will officiate at an interfaith wedding under the following circumstances:
- The question of officiation always starts with a conversation, not an answer. It is not about yes or no; it is about starting a relationship. If I feel that I cannot officiate, I will work with the couple to find someone appropriate.
- I will officiate for members of Beth El, for children of members, and for a couple that agrees to join Beth El. This goes for two Jews as well as for an interfaith couple. The synagogue is the foundation of the Jewish home.
- Prior to the wedding, the couple must attend an Introduction to Judaism class.
- The couple must commit themselves to establishing a Jewish home, which by definition means the presence of only Jewish symbols, the observance of only Jewish holidays, and the only religion practiced in the home will be Judaism.
- The couple must agree to several premarital counseling sessions with me.
- If the couple should be blessed with children, both people must be willing to participate in the raising of Jewish children.
- The non-Jewish partner would consider conversion at some point as a way to solidify the commitment to a Jewish life.
- As my role in officiating is to consecrate a Jewish home, the ceremony must be a Jewish ceremony. There is no place for non-Jewish clergy to participate.
When these expectations are met, I believe that I am helping to sanctify a new Jewish family through the ritual of marriage. I believe these standards help open the door to the creation of a new Jewish home.
As you can see, I had already set standards that would allow me to officiate and still feel authentic as a rabbi before I met Deena and Rob. I had thought deeply about a potential scenario that would officially put my change in thinking into practice. As Rob and Deena told me their story, they spoke of their identity and their intent, their commitment to study, and affiliation. As they sat before me, I assessed that their marriage would indeed strengthen the fabric of Jewish life. This is what led me on September 4th of this year to take my first leap of faith. It was a beautiful Jewish wedding. People laughed and cried. The rabbi was even known to have shed a few tears.
Every couple that I have blessed under the chuppah tells me that the brief time that they stand before God and the world in their symbolic first Jewish home is an extraordinary moment—a defining moment. I ask the couple to close their eyes and remember that moment. I sometimes think this is the real reason why we break the glass—the couple and the guests need the shattering sound to wake them out of their fantasy and bring them back to the real world. Because the wedding is ultimately only one day. Officiation is but one aspect of the process. The real work of building a Jewish partnership and a Jewish home will hopefully evolve throughout the course of a couple's lives.
We can all learn life-changing lessons from interfaith couples who genuinely commit to building a Jewish home together. In our open modern world, we all need the supportive poles and protective coverings of the chuppah to help ensure the strength and survival of our Jewish homes. In every Jewish home, there is one object that serves as a symbol of guidance and protection—it is the mezuzah. I have spoken about how for an interfaith couple, a Jewish wedding can open a door to building a Jewish home together. Mezuzot, open the door to all of our Jewish homes.
The mezuzah, if you look closely enough, is affixed on the doorpost diagonally, pointing inward. The slant is actual a result of a Talmudic debate about whether the mezuzah should be hung vertically or horizontally. It probably comes as no surprise that the compromise was to hang it on a slant. For centuries now, the mezuzah has pointed inward into our home, giving direction to infuse our homes with Jewish life.
Mezuzot are entry points. Interfaith couples who create a Jewish home together ultimately give us three mezuzot, three values, that we can all affix on our doorposts as we seek to build and strengthen our Jewish homes.
The first mezuzah is personal choice. Every Jew alive today, whether born to Jewish parents or not, is faced with decisions about how to be a Jew. We are all Jews by choice. According to the author of Choosing a Jewish Life, Anita Diamant, "a Jew by choice is someone who makes a home inside the act of Jewish choosing." We can all learn from the struggles, the choices, and the commitments that the non-Jews and converts in our community have made toward building Jewish homes. Some live a Jewish life in virtually all respects though they have not converted to Judaism. Others have formally decided to cast their lot with the Jewish people and to enter into the covenant of Abraham and Sarah through conversion. They have chosen to be part of this congregation because they love and support a Jewish partner, because they are raising Jewish children, because they identify with the Jewish People.
We can see these mezuzot in our congregation today.[2] You are the non-Jewish parents I see drive the Religious School carpool. You come to the Sanctuary each week with your children, even when it feels strange and confusing at first. You try to like gefilte fish. You are the parent who blessed your child on the bimah when he or she became a bar/bat mitzvah. You are the person I stood with at the mikvah when you converted after years of marriage to a Jewish spouse and raising Jewish children. It is important that you know how much you have our love and respect for the choices you have made to build a Jewish home. Your choices are the choices that should inspire us all as we seek to strengthen our Jewish homes. The first mezuzah reminds us that the choices we make build our Jewish homes and identities.
The second mezuzah is the path of study non-Jews must take in order to learn how to build a Jewish home. They come to classes, read books, study with a rabbi, and ask lots of questions. I instruct them to begin to build their Jewish home by building a Jewish library. The mezuzah of learning comes from the inscription in the mezuzah itself, "You shall teach these words to your children. You shall speak of them when you sit in your house and when you walk on the way, when you lie down and when you rise up." (Deuteronomy 6:7) To be Jewish is to infuse our homes and our days with Jewish wisdom.
Diane Schuster, an expert on Adult Jewish learning, highlights a paradox in the lives of many contemporary Jewish adults: "I feel competent in my work, says one adult; I feel adult in most aspects of my life. But, I feel insecure in Jewish roles; I don't feel fully adult/authentic as a Jew." (Jewish Lives, Jewish Learning) Many of us could benefit from the rigorous path that I encourage non-Jews to take as they discover what it means to create a Jewish home. As we all open the door to our Jewish homes, how does the mezuzah of learning guide us to what lies inside? When we open the door to our Jewish homes, where do we see places and moments of Jewish learning? Perhaps it is a discussion of Torah around the Shabbat table. Maybe a parent reading Hebrew with his or her child. Maybe it is reciting the words of the Shema before bedtime. Maybe it is looking to the synagogue to find on -going opportunities to affirm our Judaism through study. The mezuzah of learning creates a sturdy foundation and infuses our Jewish homes with meaning and our lives with guidance.
There is a third mezuzah that helps interfaith families build Jewish homes, and that can strengthen all of our homes as well. In the modern Jewish world, it is called outreach. The goal of outreach is to create programs that invite and welcome interfaith families and new Jews-by-choice. Outreach makes welcoming the stranger a viable vision. Today, outreach can also become in-reach. "Outreach and in-reach are two sides of the same coin," says Dru Greenwood, past director of the Commission on Reform Jewish Outreach. The goal is for the synagogue, the foundation of the Jewish home, to provide entry points and a network of support for all those who are looking to come in through its doors. New member dinners, havurot, and initiatives like the new Kesher family learning program in our Religious School, all serve to connect people and to make sure that no one feels like a stranger. Outreach and in-reach provide the third mezuzah that ultimately can help strengthen our own Jewish homes.
These three mezuzot—personal choice, study, and in-reach—can all point us in the right direction as we seek to build our Jewish homes in the coming year. At this season of turning, it is a time for us to re-evaluate our priorities and held beliefs, to see where we are today and what choices we want to make. The mezuzot of our lives guide and support us. May we inscribe them on the doorposts of our house and on our gates.
[1] At the time of the posting of this sermon, he has since agreed to attend along with her mother.
[2] Inspired by Rabbi Janet Marder's Blessing for Non-Jewish Spouses, Yom Kippur Morning 5765.
