In 2023, after years of pandemic torpor, I somehow emerged into renewed energy and inspiration. So, drumroll, here are the top five Being Both 2023 highlights:
The Audiobook. This was the year I finally achieved the dream of publishing an audiobook for Being Both, just in time to celebrate the book’s 10th anniversary. Because accessibility is a social justice issue. Right away, the audiobook hit #1 in two different Amazon “Hot New Release” categories. Buy it now, on CD or download, for the therapists, clergy, and interfaith couples in your life. And for anyone who was waiting (10 years!) for the audiobook.
The Videos. After discovering that there were no videos on multiple religious practice for use in high school or college courses, I started making them. The “Got More Than One Religion?” series is available on youtube. Share them with teachers and professors you know who teach “world religions” in social studies or Religion 101 courses.
The Curriculum. I also discovered that there was no curriculum on multiple religious practice for high school teachers. So, with support from the Interfaith Center of New York, and in partnership with social studies curriculum expert Dr. Tim Hall, I created a teacher toolkit. Share it now with the high school social studies teachers in your life.
The Podcasts. I have been a guest on over a dozen podcasts since Being Both first came out, including several this year. The deepest conversation this year was probably with Addie Pazzynski, for her excellent podcast, Called to Be Multiple. Tune in!
The Course. After creating the videos and high school curriculum on multiple religious practice, I was invited by Rabbi Lex Rofeberg to facilitate a three-part online mini-course at Judaism Unbound’s UnYeshiva. “Jewish and…Buddhist? Pagan? Christian? Can You Do That?” starts in just three weeks. So, sign up now to join the conversation!
The first three episodes in my new educational video series “Got More Than One Religion?” each run less than two minutes by design, in order to stay short and snappy. But brevity is often at odds with complexity. So I wanted to expand on some of the terms listed in episode one, “Got More Than One Religion? What Do We Call That?”
Note that people don’t tend to use academic terms to describe their own identities. Most people who practice more than one religion will give very specific and personal descriptive labels, such as “I’m a Quaker who also practices Buddhism,” or “I’m a Catholic exploring the African religious heritage of my ancestors,” or “I’m from an interfaith Hindu and Jewish family, and we celebrate both.”
Nevertheless, academics and theologians, who often are working in separate academic silos, have created a rather confusing profusion of terms in order to study and describe us, and I thought it would be good to gather them here, and provide context for which terms are used by whom, and why.
Multiple religious belonging (MRB), or double-belonging. The MRB term was developed by Catholic theologians, and later adopted by Protestant theologians. It is still used by some academics. One problem with MRB is that some theologians who use the term continue to express doubts about whether people can or should practice more than one religion. This term is also problematic because it is a reminder that religious institutions are the gatekeepers for who will “belong” and be accepted as a member. So for many of us, this term is linked to the exclusion (including rejection from religious education programs, and the investigation or expulsion of clergy) that has occurred when people claim, or defend, practicing more than one religion.
Multiple religious practice or participation (MRP), religious multiplicity. These terms acknowledge that people sometimes do participate in or practice more than one religion, whether or not religious institutions condone it. Pew Research uses MRP, and internally, I am told, even pronounces the acronym “merp.” I find these terms to be relatively neutral, accurate, and useful, and frequently use them myself. However, these terms are also a real mouthful, and will sound like academic jargon to the casual listener.
Mixed, mixedness, mixité. In Europe and some other parts of the globe, sociologists and anthropologists have done a lot of important work on Christian and Muslim interfaith families in particular, including on the religious practices of the interfaith children. The couples they study are often made up of immigrants (from Africa, the Middle East, or Asia) marrying into established or colonizing white Christian populations. As a result, these couples are often intercultural and interracial as well as interfaith. European academics use the term “mixed” to refer to these couples (and their children) and find the “inter” labels negative. But “mixed” doesn’t work as well in the US context. Because of the history of race in the US, “mixed” is usually interpreted to refer exclusively to racially mixed couples or people, who are not necessarily interfaith. And mixed couples, or people, even when they are interfaith, do not necessarily practice both religions.
Bricolage, liminal, syncretic, borderland, hybrid, hyphenated. These are various terms also used by sociologists, anthropologists, and religious studies professors. Syncretism has been vilified by some religious authorities as “forbidden,” but has been resuscitated by some academics. The issue I have with “hyphenated” is that when two identities are hyphenated, the first term because a modifier and the second term becomes a noun and gets more weight. So, Jewish-Buddhist sounds like a Buddhist who still has some lingering Jewish identity, whereas Buddhist-Jew sounds like someone who still has a strong Jewish identity but who has taken on some Buddhist practices. The hyphen does not give the two religions equal weight. So while some individuals may choose to describe themselves accurately with a hyphenated identity, I don’t think hyphenation works very well in describing the overall phenomenon.
Bi-religious, non-binary religious identity, spiritual fluidity. These terms may sound like they are being borrowed or appropriated from the evolving language used to describe gender and sexuality, and in some cases, they are. However, in some cases they have been used for many years by multiple religious practitioners to refer to themselves. The synergy between spiritual fluidity, and fluidity of gender and sexuality, is reenforced by the fact that interfaith couples are more likely to be LGBTQ couples, and vice versa. So in many cases it is LGBTQ people who are noting the synergies, and using this language to describe their own religious or spiritual identities. (Note that Duane Bidwell makes the case for using “spiritual fluidity” in his important book, When One Religion is Not Enough).
Interfaith. Interfaith is the term many (most?) people use to describe their own families formed by people of two or more religions. And it is used by some children who grow up in “doing both” interfaith families to describe their identities. Some people object to the “faith” part of “interfaith” because it prioritizes the Christian (or Muslim) emphasis on belief as a synonym for religion (see below). But “interfaith” remains the best search term to find resources and support. This is why it continues to be the most common term I use in writing about both interfaith families, and interfaith identities.
Intermarried. This term is used by traditional Jewish institutions, particularly in the Conservative movement, and by some other religious minorities that oppose “intermarriage.” I’ve written a whole piece on why I try to avoid this term, for the Forward. But the most obvious reason is that not every interfaith family centers on a marriage–couples have children without marriage, and a family could consist of a single parent with a child.
Interreligious. Substituting “interreligious” for “interfaith” appeals to people who want to avoid the “faith” in interfaith, as a synonym for religion. Some religions are faith-centered, notably Christianity and Islam, while others could be said to center more on practice than on faith (Judaism, Buddhism, Hinduism). The two terms (interfaith and interreligious) share another issue, in that they are both often used to describe interfaith/interreligious conversation, engagement, or programming, all of which may actually exclude interfaith families (read more on this here). So the fact that these word can have two separate and potentially exclusive meanings is problematic.
Interspiritual. This term is often used to describe practices that draw on many spiritual traditions, not just two, or, not just the ones in your heritage.
Multifaith. Both interfaith and multifaith sometimes refer to programming or engagement that brings people together for a panel, a meal, a course, or community service. I have seen people argue strenuously that multifaith should refer to families, and interfaith should refer to programming. But others have argued that it should be the other way around. To me, interfaith works better for families, since so far, most of them still only include two religions (though that is changing). And multifaith works better for programming, since at this point in US history, we should be including more than two religions in what used to be called “interfaith dialogue.” But I have made my peace with the fact that people will go on using them interchangeably, and that not everyone agrees about which should be which.
Being Both, Doing Both. These are the terms I described at length my book Being Both, to refer to interfaith families who practice both religions represented in their families. It is gratifying that others now refer to “doing both families” or “being both families” when discussing interfaith family practices. But these terms only make sense within a conversation about religion, not as stand-alone phrases.
Ten years ago today, Beacon Press published Being Both: Embracing Two Religions in One Interfaith Family. I have devoted the past decade to helping families to bridge religious boundaries, promote interfaith education for all, and advocate for social justice. My work has been lifting up the voices of those in interfaith families, in order to help the world to understand that we are, by our presence, reducing religious intolerance and creating a more peaceful world.
To celebrate this 10th anniversary, I had long planned a trip to New York City to finally narrate an audiobook edition of the book. Of course, I had no idea when I planned this trip that I would be heading to New York just as a war was breaking out.
The Film Center Building, at 630 Ninth Avenue
In the studio
I think I was in shock, as many people were, but I had a director and engineer and studio booked, thanks to all of you who donated to the Kickstarter campaign to make this happen. So I got on a train from DC to New York, and then made my way to the studios at John Marshall Media, in the striking art deco Film Center in Hell’s Kitchen, to begin recording. There, my director May Wuthrich and my engineer guided me in the surprisingly complex art of narration: breathing in the right places, speaking with the right expression, scanning ahead for the sense of each sentence, nailing every pronunciation, and making inevitable edits as you go along.
For three days, I sat in a soundproof booth, reading the 237 pages of the original book. In a new Author’s Note for this 10th anniversary edition, I reflected on what has changed, and what has not, in the past decade. And I recorded a thank you for top audiobook supporters, including Paul Miller, Kathy Hill-Miller and Fred Miller, Margaret and Rich Kelley, Larry Ravitz and Marika Partridge, and Wid Chapman and Shachi Shah. Each day, utterly exhausted after hours of performance on this tiny stage, I commuted “home” on the subway to the lovely oasis provided by Wid and Shachi.
Despite spending my days shut into a glass booth with no cell phone or internet, of course I was thinking about Israel and Palestine the entire time. I was worried about friends and family, about missing the news, about what I should or could be doing in response, and, honestly, about whether the stress would affect my voice. And I was worried that my book, especially ten years on, would seem irrelevant, or naive, under these harrowing circumstances.
But no. This book, these families, and this movement, continue to give me hope at a time when we all need it so much. I felt this with my whole being while reading these words from the final chapter of Being Both:
As I write this conclusion, religious hatred continues to instill fear, incite violence, and prevent peace in the world. Christian supremacists open fire on Sikhs and burn American mosques to the ground. Muslim extremists drive moderate Sufi Muslims out of northern Mali. Jews, Muslims, and Christians still cannot seem to find a way to coexist peacefully in the Middle East. None of this violence has purely religious roots: the causes include ethnic and socioeconomic differences, political manipulation, territorial disputes. Yet demonizing other humans as religious “others” makes such violence psychologically possible.
Reading those words into the microphone, words first drafted more than a decade ago, they could not have seemed more relevant. And so, I made a resolution. I will continue this work of fostering peace across boundaries–and love across boundaries–until the day I am unable to work at all.
Why am I reviewing a book that came out more than 50 years ago? Because the long-awaited movie finally opens next week.
As much as I loved this book in 1970 for its frank description of adolescence, the interfaith family subplot has always bothered me. The author did not grow up in an interfaith family, and had no direct experience of the matter. Instead, this beloved and iconic novel drew heavily on the myth of the stressed and confused interfaith child. You can read my perspective on all this today on the front page of Kveller:
My daughter is a 90s kid. She grew up listening to Avril Lavigne on a CD boombox, and playing Zoo Tycoon on a family desktop with dial-up. And, she grew up with the original American Girl dolls–dolls set in different historical periods and cultures, with novels telling their stories. When we visited Colonial Williamsburg, she wore her official Felicity dress, to match the doll with a story set there. (They both have long red hair, and love animals). So when she told me this week that American Girl had just released new dolls representing the historical period of the 1990s, we both found this poignant and hilarious. And we bonded over the passage of time, and feeling old.
Alerted to this news, I read the People Magazine piece emphasizing that Nicki and Isabel Hoffman are the first twins represented in the American Girl (AG) historical doll line, and highlighting all their cool 90s accessories and outfits. There is no mention of religion in that article. And there is no mention of religion on the AG website’s rollout for the twins, or in the youtube announcing their upcoming animated series.
But then, I saw yesterday’s piece from the Jewish Telegraphic Agency (JTA) with big news. And I learned that part of the backstory for Nicki and Isabel is that they are growing up in an interfaith family, with a Jewish father and a Christian mother, and celebrate both Hanukkah and Christmas
The twins are modeled on real-life twins Julia DeVillers and Jennifer Roy, who are both successful authors. They are now co-writing the story of Nicki and Isabel for AG, drawing on their own experiences. Their first American Girl novel about Nicki and Isabel is due out in August, and will take place during a month when the twins celebrate Hanukkah and Christmas.
DeVillers and Roy grew up Jewish, with a father who escaped the Holocaust as a child. But they also celebrated Christmas with their mother’s family. Frequently, Jewish media outlets seek to highlight the interfaith families who make Jewish choices. But Roy also tells the JTA, “People are not necessarily one thing or another these days. And while we are Jewish, we did grow up with both holidays and both cultures in our family. And that’s how we wanted our characters to be and to feel.”
I am now wondering about why the American Girl rollout online, and the People Magazine piece, don’t mention religion. One could speculate that we have reached a point where it is okay to produce dolls with fictional interfaith families, but we are still, also, at a point where it is not necessarily a good marketing choice to emphasize that fact.
Like DeVillers and Roy, I grew up Jewish, while also celebrating Christmas with my mother’s family. But as someone who has spent decades working to make space for people to claim the complexity of their identities, to claim their bothness, I cannot help but celebrate the arrival of Nicki and Isabel. There have been plenty of interfaith families in popular media in my lifetime, from plays to movies to television. But this may be a landmark in interfaith material culture. This physical embodiment of interfaith kids, in doll form, feels like an acknowledgement of my lived experience. It makes me feel hopeful that my efforts to encourage interfaith kids to raise their voices are having an effect. And the statement that “people are not necessarily one thing or another,” by a storyteller for this iconic brand, feels like progress.
Families celebrating more than one religion can, and do, design interfaith coming of age celebrations for their children. These ceremonies sometimes start with, draw on, or incorporate the B-Mitzvah traditions in our heritage. Our Jewish and Christian interfaith family, along with beloved clergy, created ceremonies for each of our children (who are now 28 and 25). Over the years, I have often been asked for a coming of age ceremony template. And a reader asked again just this week. And so, I am finally posting a template!
The template below “leans Jewish” in that it includes the essence of a Shabbat Torah service, which is what many consider the essence of a B-Mitzvah. And, the whole idea of an individual coming of age, as opposed to a group confirmation, is a more Jewish than Christian tradition. Whether or not you want to include all these elements is up to your family. You can find a deeper discussion of the different choices my family made, and the choices available to you, in the Coming of Age chapter in my book Being Both: Embracing Two Religions in One Interfaith Family. There is also more of the backstory on our particular experience with our younger child, on my blog here, here, here, here and here.
For the sake of brevity, I did not include the actual prayers here, but they are widely available. I recommend including Hebrew, transliteration, AND gender-neutral English translation for every Hebrew prayer, as an educational tool, and to be most inclusive. The explanations of each prayer, important for a mixed multitude, can either be read by the reader, or simply included in the program for people to read on their own.
Interfaith Coming of Age and B-Mitzvah
Intro. Our programs started with a letter (which people can read to themselves while they wait for the ceremony to start) as an introduction from the parents. It explains the religious education and training that the young person has undergone, and thanks the various religious communities supporting them. It goes on to thank important mentors, clergy, and godparents.
Opening Song. Throughout the program, there are traditional Jewish songs for peace and Shabbat (Bim Bom, Lo Yisa Goy, Hine Mahtov, It is a Tree of Life). And, there are songs drawn from other sources (Morning Has Broken, All Things Bright and Beautiful, Let the Life I Lead, Peace Salaam Shalom).
Welcome from the clergy (in our case, both a rabbi and a minister spoke)
Opening Responsive Prayer (Led by the minister. Adapted by Susan Katz Miller from the Palo Alto interfaith families community)
Reader: We gather here as an interfaith community to celebrate the Coming of Age of (Name).
All: Some of us gather as the Children of Israel, some of us gather in the name of Jesus of Nazareth. Our influences are many.
Reader: May (Name), and all of our children, be nourished by strong family roots, and may all the branches of our family trees thrive.
All: May they grow in compassion for all peoples and cultures, seek to heal the earth, and strive for justice around the globe.
Reader: May they use their understanding of the many different pathways to become bridge-builders and peacemakers.
All: And may we all go forward into the world, knowing in our hearts that deeper unity in which all are one.
Shehecheyanu (Rabbi)
The rabbi explains that this is a Jewish prayer giving thanks for reaching any new or important moment.
Introduce the Torah. The Torah is a continuous scroll consisting of the first five books of the Hebrew Bible – Genesis, Exodus, Leviticus, Numbers and Deuteronomy. Each Torah is handwritten by a trained scribe, using a quill and vegetable ink on parchment. The Hebrew calligraphy used to write these scrolls has been the same for more than 2,000 years. The Torah we are using today belongs to Georgetown University, where Rabbi White is a chaplain and professor.
Please stand.
Barchu and Shema (led by the person coming of age)
The Shema is the central prayer of the Jewish faith. In it, Jews declare their belief in one God, who is the God of all people.
Please be seated.
V’Ahavta (led by the person coming of age)
In this central prayer, each generation passes knowledge of the law and of Jewish ritual to the next.This prayer is included on the parchment scroll inside a mezuzah, posted on the doorframe of many Jewish homes.
Aliyot. The rabbi explains that an Aliya (plural is Aliyot) is the honor of saying the blessing before and after part of the Torah reading. Leading this blessing is often considered the central act of becoming a Bar or Bat Mitzvah.
Aliyot by parents, grandparents, any older siblings, and finally, the person coming of age.
Blessing before the Torah
Torah Reading. (In English or Hebrew. If it’s only in Hebrew, print the English in the program).
Blessing after the Torah
Reflection on the Torah portion (D’var Torah by the person coming of age)
Song
Reading from the New Testament (read by a Christian grandparent or mentor). It was our beloved rabbi who insisted we do a New Testament reading. (Read all about this twist in Being Both).
We Remember Them (Minister. Written by Sylvan Kamens and Rabbi Jack Riemer)
At this time we remember those who are gone but are here with us today in spirit, especially (name any grandparents or immediate family members or close mentors who have died).
Reader: At the rising of the sun and at its going down, we remember them.
All: At the blowing of the wind and in the chill of winter,we remember them.
Reader: At the opening of the buds and in the rebirth of spring, we remember them.
All: At the blueness of the skies and in the warmth of the summer,we remember them.
Reader: At the rustling of the leaves and in the beauty of autumn, we remember them.
All: At the beginning of the year and when it ends,we remember them.
Reader: As long as we live, they too will live; for they are now a part of us, as we remember them.
All: When we are lost and sick at heart, we remember them.
Reader: When we have joys we crave to share, we remember them.
All: When we have decisions that are difficult to make,we remember them.
Reader: When we have achievements that are based on theirs, we remember them.
All: As long as we live, they too will live; for they are now a part of us, as we remember them.
Mourner’s Kaddish (Rabbi)
The Kaddish (“Sanctification”) is written primarily in Aramaic, the language spoken by the Jews living in Babylonia and Palestine in the sixth century BCE, and the language later spoken by Jesus. The Kaddish is traditionally recited for those who have died, yet there is no mention of death. Instead, the prayer praises God and promises peace. For many, the rhythmic repetition of syllables serves as a chanting meditation.
Song:Oseh Shalom
“Universal Prayer,” an interpretation of The Lord’s Prayer, by Rev. Cora Partridge.
Please read together:
Great Spirit of goodness and justice, our friend. We know you by many names, and in many languages, and by the manifestations of your great works in the universe. We want your influence of goodness to develop on this earth. Please provide all of us with what we need each day. Forgive our sins to the extent that we forgive others. Give us strength to resist temptations and willful wrongdoing, and protect us from evil thoughts, opportunities, and misfortunes that beset humankind. You are the everlasting good. We thank you. Amen.
Remarks by Parents
Remarks by Godparent/Mentor
Song
Laying on of Hands. Clergy put their hands on the head of the person coming of age to bless them, and the whole community then connects to each other in a supportive physical web. For further explanation, see Being Both.
Parting Words (Responsive reading led by minister)
Will you be there for (Name) when they need you to listen? All: We will.
Will you model love for one another and for all peoples? All: We will.
Will you surround (Name) with joy, music, poetry and art? All: We will.
Will you help them work for peace, justice and a sustainable world? All: We will.
Then go now, remembering always the community that we have become today, a community that envelopes and surrounds and supports (Name) with our love.
Once upon a time, December holiday books for children focused on either Christmas, or Hanukkah. Now, many children grow up in Jewish families celebrating Christmas with Christian grandparents. Or, they grow up in Christian families celebrating Hanukkah with Jewish grandparents. Or, they grow up in interfaith families celebrating both. Here, I update my growing list of Hanukkah and Christmas books, in chronological order of publication. No two interfaith families have the same way of celebrating in December. So, rather than simply listing the books, I review how each book might or might not work for your family, in order to help you find the right book for your young interfaith children or grandchildren.
1. The first popular book on this topic was probably Light the Lights! A Story About Celebrating Hanukkah and Christmas (ages 3-5), from 1999. This sweet and simple story focuses on a girl participating in both holidays at home, but does not go into the underlying religious meaning of either one. This may be frustrating for parents who want to teach religious literacy, but for young children celebrating one or both of the holidays in a secular fashion, or as a starting point for deeper discussion, this book will work.
2. In contrast, I do not recommend My Two Holidays: A Hanukkah and Christmas Story (ages 3-5) from 2010. The boy in this book feels “ashamed and embarrassed” in school to admit that he celebrates both holidays. While emotionally dramatic, this plot twist does not ring true in my experience with contemporary interfaith children, and reading it could make children who feel just fine about celebrating both, feel a sense of shame. The author seems to have bought into the (increasingly mythical) “December Dilemma” conflict. Avoid this book.
3. Daddy Christmas and Hanukkah Mama (2012, ages 5-8) features jazzy modernist collage illustrations, and a recipe for Cranberry Kugel. The mixed media style echoes the hipster parents in this book, who mix the holidays together in a sort of Chrismukkah mash-up. They hook candy canes on their menorah, and leave latkes out for Santa. If your family does this kind of blending, this is your book. But for families trying to help kids to understand and respect the differences between the two religions, well, this is definitely not your book.
4. Eight Candles and a Tree(2014, ages 3-5), follows Sophie as she explains to friend and playmate Tommy that she celebrates Hanukkah and Christmas. Tommy only celebrates Christmas. I appreciated the very gentle tension as Sophie diplomatically answers questions about how and why she celebrates “both.” Sophie explains the miracle of the oil lasting eight nights in the Temple, but both children mention only the more secular aspects of Christmas (the tree, the feast), so this book works for interfaith Jewish families celebrating a secular Christmas at home, as well as families celebrating both religions. This would also be a good pick for young Christian kids curious about a cousin or friend who celebrates both, as they can identify with Tommy.
5. Nonna’s Hanukkah Surprise (2015, ages 3-8) features the most dramatic and emotionally satisfying plot of any book for interfaith children I have yet seen. Rachel is flying with her family to spend Hanukkah and Christmas with her father’s Christian family. Rachel is upset when she leaves her menorah behind on the airplane, but her kind Nonna (Italian for grandmother) saves the day by creating a lovely new menorah for her, out of recycled perfume bottles. The Christian cousins gather affectionately around the menorah with Rachel to help her celebrate, modeling bridge-building across the religious divide. The author weaves in some of the meanings of Hanukkah, but the references to Christmas are oblique. This book (from a publisher of books on Judaism) was clearly written for interfaith children being raised Jewish, who celebrate Christmas only with extended family. In fact, it was a recent selection for PJ Library, the free Jewish book program for children. But I recommend it for any interfaith family.
6. December’s Gift(2015, ages 3-8) is perfect for those who celebrate both holidays, and want to begin to teach their children the underlying meaning of both Hanukkah and Christmas. Clara helps her Bubbe make latkes, and then helps her Grammy to make Christmas cookies. (The book includes recipes for both, and charming illustrations). Bubbe tells Clara the story of the destruction of the temple and the miracle of the Hanukkah oil. And Grammy teaches Clara how the star-shaped cookies and the star on the tree represent the star that led wise men to the birth of a king. There is no mention of Jesus by name. But for interfaith parents who want to give their interfaith children an interfaith education, this book is an excellent start.
7. New this season, Happy ALL-idays (2022, ages 1-5) is a very simple board book explaining that different families celebrate different holidays in December. It features illustrations and brief rhyming descriptions of families celebrating Christmas, Hanukkah, Kwanzaa, and a presumably interfaith family celebrating “Chrismukkah.” The families are notably diverse (including a boy in a wheelchair, and what appear to be single parents, multigenerational families, LGBTQ parents, and interracial couples). The inclusion of an interfaith family alongside families who celebrate one December holiday is novel, and refreshing. If you like to keep Hanukkah and Christmas separate, and avoid using the term “Chrismukkah,” this, sadly, is not the right book for your family. I worry that it depicts hanging dreidels on the tree as the norm, when not all interfaith families mix the two holidays together. But if you’re Team Mashup (and many families are, when it comes to December decorations), this book could be perfect for you.
Children born into interfaith families have an intuitive understanding of the benefits and challenges of interfaith family life. But what happens when a child suddenly finds themselves at the center of a new interfaith family, when a parent remarries or chooses a new partner? The new blended family can be both enriched and complicated by cultural and religious differences.
Brand New Bubbe by Sarah Aronson is the first picture book to address the sudden formation of an interfaith family through remarriage, from a child’s perspective. The story, by an experienced children’s author, is told with great charm and gentle humor, and accompanied by engaging illustrations. The book is highly recommended for children struggling to adjust to a new interfaith family, or any blended family. Brand New Bubbe is a unique and important addition to the small but growing list of books written for and about children in interfaith families.
Jillian, who has grown up in a family that is not Jewish, finds her new Jewish stepdad “really nice.” But she’s not sure at first about her new grandmother: “Jillian already had a Noni and a Gram. Bubbe didn’t get the hint.” Psychologically, Jillian’s discomfort in adjusting to the new family is displaced onto Bubbe as a safe target.
Jillian, a spirited only child vaguely reminiscent of the iconic Eloise, goes on a protest strike, refusing to give in to Bubbe’s lavish affections. She worries that her beloved Noni and Gram will feel left out, or replaced. The detailed illustrations amplify the subtle humor, with a parallel plot involving the tension between Jillian’s cat and Bubbe’s small dog. When Jillian stages her protest, the cat joins in, carrying a sign protesting Bubbe’s dog.
Jillian’s mother finally intervenes to point out that Jillian is being too tough on Bubbe. Jillian ultimately works through her dilemma of how to integrate Bubbe into the family by inviting all three grandmothers to come to a soup celebration. They cook together, share the meal together, and love ultimately abounds and prevails. The moral of the story, once again, is that the more supportive people we have in our lives (and the more soup), the better. And by association, for me, the implication is that our lives can be enriched by multiple religions in one extended family.
Brand New Bubbe is enhanced by excellent recipes for Bubbe’s matzoh ball soup, Noni’s Italian wedding soup, and Gram’s gazpacho. (I judge they are excellent by the inclusion of parsnips in the matzoh ball soup). The book also includes a brief resource section, including a shout-out to The Interfaith Family Journal.
Brand New Bubbe is not didactic on the subject of Judaism (or anything else). Beyond matzoh balls, there is only brief reference to the unfamiliar new holidays Jillian is experiencing, and to her exposure to new Yiddish words like kvelling and kvetching. Instead, Brand New Bubbe focuses on the child’s emotional journey–her resistance and evolution as part of a new interfaith family. Jillian expresses a kaleidoscope of feelings as she goes through this evolution–at first worried, petulant, and disruptive, but ultimately resourceful, creative, and affectionate.
By the end of the book, Jillian has assumed the role of an interfaith ambassador, working to build bridges, in order to play her part in creating a new and successful interfaith family. This feisty protagonist is a great addition to the interfaith family canon, and I hope there will be sequels. In the final pages of Brand New Bubbe, the observant reader will note the arrival of a baby, raising the possibility of a sequel on siblings in a blended interfaith family. I look forward to reading what happens next for Jillian, and Bubbe.
We have to call it big news when a generally conservative Jewish media outlet summons 10 “non-Jewish spouses” of Jews and asks them about anything. So the publication of the piece in The Tablet last week, entitled “The Minyan: Non-Jewish Spouses,” represents progress. And that’s because most of the Jewish press coverage and academic work on interfaith families has been based on interviews and surveys with the Jewish partners, and only the Jewish partners. My book Being Both, almost a decade after publication, is still a rare source on what both partners in interfaith relationships think, and feel.
I also appreciated that two of the twelve “non-Jewish” partners in this group conversation are raising children with both family religions, and that they were allowed to explain what they see as the benefits of this choice. Andrea, who was raised Presbyterian, married a Jew, and now sees herself as interfaith, explains to the group, “I think that kind of bi-literacy, bilingualism, can increase our understanding in the world. Everything is so fractional right now, so divisive. I just have hope that people who are in interreligious marriages are maybe a microcosm for how the world can bridge difference.” And Kavya, a Hindu married to a Jew, adds “it’s not that novel, the idea that our children can celebrate two deep lineages and backgrounds.”
This published conversation also adds to the growing body of literature describing the tremendous damage done by exclusion of interfaith couples, including refusal to officiate at marriages, family members who refuse to visit, and family members who refuse to attend weddings. And it adds to the literature describing the tremendous damage done by gender-based religious gatekeeping in the form of excluding children of Jewish patrilineal descent. These parents describe a refusal to perform a bris, an interfaith child raised Jewish who studied and jumped through every Jewish hoop but was still called a non-Jew, and a rabbi who ripped tefillin off a boy’s body.
All of this is important for a Jewish audience to hear. And yet, this piece is also an example of a very focused Jewish lens, a lens that distorts the experience of people married to Jews through selection bias, and the choice of questions. To start with, not one of these 12 partners-of-Jews actually currently identifies as Christian, according to the bios. So the Jewish bias is already inherent in the selection of a sample of partners who have mostly left Christianity behind. The editors also “deliberately narrowed the field to those married to Jews who care about being Jewish.” What does that even mean? In this case, it means this is a conversation primarily among people who married “practicing” Jews and agreed to put aside their own religion, or who had left their own religion, and are raising “Jewish only” children. Eight out of ten couples with children in this sample are raising children “Jewish only,” which is a huge oversampling of that subgroup.
And, note that all of the questions, with the exception of a nod to the (arguably secular) Christmas tree and Easter eggs, are about Judaism. And even the tree and eggs are discussed in terms of their effects on the Jewish partners. The discussion topics include Passover, the High Holidays, Torah study, Israel, Jewish persecution, and conversion to Judaism. These partners are asked how their Jewish in-laws felt about the marriage, but not how their own (mostly Christian) parents felt. There are zero questions about how they feel about leaving their religions behind, whether there are traditions that they miss, what their children might gain from Christian (or Hindu) extended family. In the end, it’s an interesting discussion, but it’s not really about these partners of Jews at all. It’s about (once again) what it all means for Judaism.
All of my life, even before writing two books on the topic, I have worked to explain that interfaith families have expertise in interfaith peacemaking.
If you want to learn how to have interfaith work relationships, school relationships, community relationships, then look to interfaith families for clues. Talk to the people who embody interfaith relationships full-time.
Over a decade ago now, I wrote on this topic for Huffington Post, and and on my blog. And still, I see national “interfaith” organizations launch without any reference to the growing demographic importance of interfaith families. And still, international “World’s Religions” conferences do not keynote interfaith families as a driving force in interfaith understanding, despite our growing numbers.
I do see real progress in the evolution beyond the traditional top-down “three old white clergymen with beards” model of interfaith Abrahamic conversation (one rabbi, one priest, and one imam). I see real progress in the more contemporary and inclusive panels representing diverse races and genders and many religions, and even a secular humanist or two. And yet, too often, there is still no space at this table for people who openly represent interfaith families. In fact, often there remains a tacit understanding that some clergy come to the interfaith conversation only with the agreement that the whole topic of interfaith families is off the table, or a bridge too far. And yet, more and more of us embody those bridges.
And so, it is tremendously affirming to welcome to the world a Belgian documentary film, “Nous Tous,” (or, “All of Us” in English), that acknowledges interfaith families as an important example of interfaith peacemaking. And this week, until May 22nd, you can stream it for free on youtube HERE in conjunction with tomorrow’s UN International Day of Living Together in Peace. The film documents the inspiring stories of people creating community across religious difference in five countries: Bosnia, Indonesia, Lebanon, Senegal, and the US. Director Pierre Pirard first contacted me three years ago, while planning to visit the United States to film US footage for the documentary. I met the crew in New York, and was honored to be filmed as an expert on interfaith families.
With “All of Us” director Pierre Pirard in Herald Square
The portions of the film in the US and Senegal directly address interfaith families as peacemakers. Pirard and his crew went to Florida to film Rorri Geller-Mohamed (Jewish), her husband Arif (Muslim), and their extended Jewish and Muslim families, celebrating their two religions together. Then they traveled to Long Island to film the Jewish, Christian, and Muslim communities on the Brookville Multifaith Campus, a community I described for The Washington Post in 2016. At the heart of that campus, an Interfaith Community created by and for interfaith families provides Jewish and Christian interfaith education, though their central role is not described in the film. (For more on the roots of the Multifaith Campus, read Being Both, or my 2016 Q&A with Reverend Vicky Eastland).
Will “All of US” help more people to understand that interfaith families can be joyous, can be inspirational, can be role models–rather than a problem to be solved, or a threat? I think it will. The power of film–the images, the sound, the intimacy–is undeniable. I first noticed this when I appeared in the documentary Leaps of Faiths, which chronicles interfaith families in Chicago. I had written about these Chicago families in Being Both, on my blog, and in the press. But even for interfaith family members who had read all of my descriptions of Chicago interfaith family communities, seeing them on film, seeing the embodied love in families that mirrored their own, was profoundly moving.
The last two pandemic years have been difficult for all of us. But they have also created more awareness of our global interconnections. Give yourself the gift of spending 90 minutes with “All of Us”: stop in on four continents, and breathe in some hope, some inspiration, some optimism.
Being Both 