Merry Chanukah! Happy Christmas!

There is lots of discussion this year about the first night of Chanukah. It falls on Christmas Eve. That makes many people happy. Me? I say, "Ugh.

I've spent the past 19 years trying to separate the two.

When we received the invitation to attend the Chanukah celebration at our Synagogue, to be held a week early, I was confused. Why would a Jewish congregation be celebrating an 8-day-long holiday a week early? Just because it falls on Christmas? I called the Rabbi to ask. She told me that is a logistical thing. Most people have plans during the break. The kids are off from school, so they visit family, go on a trip, hang out with friends, or go to a movie. No one wants to commit to coming to Synagogue that week. So, despite my confusion, we went to the celebration. Many families brought their menorah; we did not. They were given the option to light 1 candle, all of the candles, or none. It was…odd.

Gifts

Our kids have always received Christmas gifts on Christmas morning (ostensibly only items that would fit in a stocking - that didn't last long). When they were younger, just like every kid who celebrates Christmas, they came bouncing into our bedroom before dawn to tell us it was time to see what Santa had brought. For Chanukah, they receive a gift a night - usually some combination of a big gift on the first night and small gifts on the other 7 nights. We often give them the option to open all of their gifts on the first night or spread them out through the 8 nights, but they have to agree. It has never happened that they agree to get them all in one night, so we went with a gift a night. If Christmas and Chanukah overlap at all, they generally don't receive a Chanukah gift on Christmas Eve or Day.

On Christmas morning, there is never any huge pile at our house, but there are overflowing stockings. Gifts, as you know, are expensive. So, we decided long ago that we'd give the kids little gifts and treats on Christmas and maybe one big gift. Then, we save the other big gifts to be from Mom and Dad for Chanukah. So, when the holidays overlap, I am always hoping that the gifts we gave them would balance each other out.

The Pleasure of Gift-Giving

However, when Chanukah comes before Christmas and exists as a holiday unto itself, I find great joy in the gift-giving experience. Lighting the candles each night brings our family together. Everything stops - before we sit down to dinner - as we sing the blessings and light the candles. Then, when the kids receive one gift, they enjoy that gift for a full 24 hours! During the years of hot toys, they may even get them before the other kids.

Christmas Eve

Second Cousins

Cousins

Tonight is Christmas Eve! Our family loves Christmas Eve. We spend it in the warmth of my niece's home with her family and quite a few of my other nieces, nephews, and great nieces and nephews, my brother and a sister-in-law. In years past, my parents were there. Gift-giving is at a minimum, and the night is centered around simply being together. Two years in a row, my daughter made a decision to go/not go on a trip because she didn't want to miss Christmas Eve/Day with my family. (More on that later this week.)

1st Night of Chanukah

Tonight, before we leave, we will set aside time to light the candles on the menorah. We'll probably choose the small fast-burning candles, so that the candles have a chance to burn all the way. In years past, when we have been in the midst of Chanukah, if we lit the candles at all on Christmas Eve, it would be after we came home. However, the first night is always special.

First Night

8 Nights of Chanukah

Everyone knows the song "The Twelve Days of Christmas." The days leading up to Christmas are busy, busy, busy. Baking, shopping, and wrapping consume us. Then, the week after Christmas is spent visiting with friends and family, relaxing, and just spending time with your spouse and children. This year, the entire 8 nights of Chanukah will fall during the window of Christmas Eve to New Year's Eve. Me? I say, "That's a shame." When the 8 nights fall in early to mid-December, my family gets 8 nights to stop everything and be together for the 15 minutes it takes to celebrate the holiday that night. We'll still do it this year, but it will be before or after a movie, wedged in during Eve's - an afterthought. I'll miss that moment in time this year.

Happy Chanukah! Merry Christmas!

Christmas Minyan

Last year, I spent Christmas night at Shabbat Services. We had spent the past 24 hours with my Catholic family. Christmas Eve in one house. Christmas dinner at another. On the way home, on a warm and rainy Christmas night, we decided to take a drive through the nearby light show. We passed the local Chinese restaurant, and it was packed. We knew that there were certainly enough Jews for a  minyan. My husband mentioned that there were services at our synagogue in an hour. I said, "I'm game." My daughter said that she'd like to go to services before returning to college. Son was not as enthusiastic, but he didn't complain either. So, after listening to Christmas carols on Pandora as we viewed the light show, I said good-bye to Christmas for the year by pausing the carols at the conclusion of the song. Then we pulled into the synagogue parking lot. We were the only interfaith family in attendance, but we weren't the only family. It was a peaceful - and enjoyable way to end the holiday.

Our Rabbi's d'var was all about balance. Although my response to her question about balance focused on career and family, I just now realized how, at that very moment, I was balancing my role as an interfaith mother. At that point, with my parents gone, I was wondering why I'm still trying to walk this balance beam. I'm wondering…

During services, my son, who by no fault of his own, had a rather unique formal Jewish upbringing, sang out strong - reading either the Hebrew or having memorized the blessings. My daughter, a freshman in college, was there by choice. We had done what we set out to do.

Good Shabbos, Christmas.

Shalom, Christmas

Music is such an important part of our family's life. My parents met each other dancing, and they danced their entire lives together. My father-in-law is a Cantor, and my husband, daughter, and son are all musicians. We are surrounded by music.

So, sometime in early November, when my children start asking when the radio station is going to be all-Christmas, I bristle. I tell them that if it starts before Thanksgiving, I just can't listen to it. Christmas music should be special. For me, it brings back all kinds of December memories, so I'd prefer that it not start in mid-November. When I hear The Little Drummer Boy, I think about the living nativity. When we sing O Come All Ye Faithful, it reminds me that my Dad wouldn't let us put the baby Jesus in the manger until late on Christmas Eve. We Three Kings is a reminder that the Three Wise Men shouldn't be placed around the nativity until January 6th - the feast of the Epiphany. Rudolph and I Saw Mommy Kissing Santa Claus bring back memories of singing along with Mitch Miller. I try to make all of these connections for my children, at least letting them in on the memories, even if the religious ones don't resonate with them.

Singing Stille Nacht

Our family has built a musical Christmas tradition that feels familiar to all of us. It is a week away. I am deep into the prep at this point, and as much as I may whine about it, I enjoy it. I turn on a sappy Hallmark channel movie or sing along to Christmas carols, as I clean the house from top to bottom. We host an annual holiday party with a typical crowd of about 100 (and invite 200). It’s a real mix of Christians and Jews. Everyone comes together, in our interfaith home, to celebrate the season. Our house is decorated with snowmen, carolers, ornament trees, and menorahs. It is comfortable for everyone, and it brings them joy. My Jewish husband plays the piano, and our family and friends join us to sing Christmas carols and a few Chanukah songs. 

Lots of Little Ones - All Grown Up Now

Many of my brothers, sisters-in-law, nieces, nephews, spouses, and children come. When my parents joined us, they danced during their favorite songs. The year Mom passed away, it was bittersweet when we sang, Grandma Got Run Over by a Reindeer. Another year, my very dear friend stepped up to the piano to belt out Santa Baby" with me. Did you know that there are lots of Jews who love to sing Christmas carols? One of my vivid memories from this day is of my Jewish sister-in-law and my father-in-law, the Cantor, singing Stille Nacht (Silent Night) at the piano.  There are a few people who have made it every year - for 24 years. Many have come for at least 20! Each year, there is someone who joins us for the first time. Our friends' children have grown up coming to our party. This year, a little girl who wore her velvet Christmas dress at age 4, will bring her boyfriend at age 19. Now, our children invite their high school and college friends to join us. When, in November, people start asking "When is your party," you know you've created a tradition.

Getting Ready Many Years Ago

Our children enjoy preparing for the big day, and they look forward to inviting new friends. My daughter even postponed her Birthright Israel trip, because it would overlap our holiday party. One boy, after coming for the past 8 or so years, visited a few days after the party to make gingerbread houses. He was surprised that we were playing Christmas music. "I thought you were Jewish," he said. "We are, but haven't you been coming to our holiday party for years?" He responded, "Yes, but I thought you just did that for the Christians!"

You know what? I think we're doing it right.

Twice Means Tradition

When my parents were growing up, they were part of the melting pot generation. Their parents believed in being American - not Italian, not German. That may be the reason that we didn't have a lot of family tradition. It could also be the fact that there were so many of us! 

For our first Christmas, my husband surprised me with a fully-decorated Christmas tree. Since I was a bird watcher, he found enough bird ornaments to cover the entire tree. It was one of those special moments. Then, once our daughter was born, it seems like she said the phrase, "We always do it that way," from the moment she could talk. Tradition has always been important to her. When she was about 2 1/2, she laid under our Christmas tree and basked in the glow of the lights. Yes, it was a beautiful moment --- one that gave me pause. 

We were beginning to build our own family traditions. I knew that what we did at age 2 1/2 was going to be the beginning of traditions that would last a lifetime. If you know me, you know that I tend to do things all the way or not at all. So, if I was going to have Jewish children, I was going to have Jewish children - not half-Jewish. That year I made the decision that it would be the last year to have a Christmas tree.

However, I can't lie to you. As I walk through my neighborhood at this time of year, I do have Christmas decorating envy. I so enjoy walking about the neighborhood to see the lights. The trees peeking out through the windows of my neighbors' homes delight me. We did have lights for a couple of years. About a year after we moved into our home, my husband decided that he was going to have lights. He made the columns on our front porch look like candy canes. The lights could have landed a plane! If you give a Jew some lights at Christmas...he'll go overboard! Although that was probably the last time we had lights, our wonderful next-door-neighbors had loads of beautiful white lights across the front of their house. Because of the way our houses are placed, their lights always wandered close to our trees. I always hoped that they'd find their way on to our trees. They never did! When our daughter was about 3 years old, and our son was a newborn, we spent most nights driving around town looking for lights. Now, every time I see Christmas lights, I think of my daughter's tiny voice, "Yights, Mommy, more yights!"

Our decorations at this time of year include menorahs, snowmen, stockings, and two ornament trees. My kids enjoy the decorating more than I do; it's the tradition I enjoy.

I suppose I've overcompensated for the lack of Christmas decorations by buying menorahs (we're up to 10), special candles, and even an oil menorah. The glow of the candles each night warms my heart.

Decorating is a major part of this holiday season. As an interfaith family, we built our own traditions and figured out what works for us.

Giving Thanks for My Interfaith Family

Thanksgiving is my favorite holiday. Other than being thankful for friends, family, and the blessings of the year, there is no religious aspect to the holiday. You spend time with loved ones, and there are no expectations other than a good meal and good conversation.

Our Thanksgiving tradition has changed over the years. For the past 5+ years, my nephew and his family have joined us around our table. For the past couple of years, a second nephew has joined us. We almost switched it up this year to join my husband's family. However, tradition prevailed, and my husband and daughter spent Wednesday evening and most of Thursday cooking. After everyone arrived, as is our tradition, each of us took a moment to mention something that they are thankful for. Then the Catholics said Grace Before Meals, and the Jews said the Hamotzi. The meal was fabulous, the political conversation was exciting, and the joy of just being with family was precious.

This weekend, the celebration continued. Much of my husband's family was in town to celebrate a milestone birthday for my father-in-law. All but a few of the immediate family came to our house for dinner on Friday. Once again, great food, heated political conversation, and the joy of being together were what it was all about. Just as I sat down to eat, my father-in-law, the Cantor, said, "It's Friday, isn't it?" With that, I, his non-Jewish daughter-in-law, reached behind me, pulled out some candles, lit the candles, and recited the blessing for Shabbat. Then, I poured a glass of wine and asked my father-in-law to say the  prayer over the wine. He sang the Kiddush, a blessing that was truly a blessing upon all of us to hear him sing, as we were about to celebrate his 90th birthday.

Finally, on Saturday, we celebrated his birthday with a party. It didn't dawn on me, as it often has in the past, that just about everyone who was there is Jewish. We were all simply people coming together to celebrate the life of a man who connects all of us in some way. There was a big college football game on in the background. Many alumni and a current student were cheering on the team. Renewed acquaintances, cousins who hadn't seen each other for yours, and old friends all greeted each other with warm hugs. Afterward, as a family, we sat and talked for hours.

In all of these moments this weekend, there was no interfaith. It was just family.

Now What?

Once we celebrated our daughter becoming a  Bat Mitzvah, we pondered, "Where do we go now?" Nearly 10 months had passed. There were times when I walked into the building, and, once again, finally, I felt at home. There were other times when, although I didn’t feel like an outsider, I felt like I was on parade. People were watching me, watching my husband, wondering what we were doing there. When I saw the Rabbi, I didn’t know if I should hate him or feel sorry for him. More than anything I felt sorry for us and the rest of the congregation.

I knew that I was tired of talking about the place and everything that happened there. I wasn't Jewish, and I was deep into the politics of a Jewish congregation. I couldn't help but wonder whether this would ever happen in a Catholic Church. I wanted to be done with the whole situation. I was tired of being defined by it. If we chose to stay, could we move forward? If we left, would we forever wonder what would have happened had we stayed? After everything I had done to make sure my children had a Jewish religious identity, would it be lost if we left? Or could we be happy and move on?

We left.

Now what?

After spending years deciding that our children would be raised Jewish and determining how best to raise them that way, we were at a crossroads. We had a Bat Mitzvah behind us, and we wanted our son to receive as solid a religious education as our daughter did. Would he understand the holidays? What would happen when it was time for his Bar Mitzvah? Would he be able to follow a service? Would he be able to lead the service, like his sister did? 

We began shopping for a new congregation. That's easier said than done for an interfaith family. I had just about become comfortable walking into my children's religious school and feeling like I belonged there. I was finally able to join my family for services and not feel like there was a Scarlet C (Catholic) on my chest. Not all congregations were welcoming of interfaith families. Some were happy to add you to their membership rolls, but that didn't mean that the non-Jewish parent would feel at home. That did not sit well with my commitment to actively participate in my children's religious life. I had finally learned the prayers and songs that our Reconstructionist congregation used all of the time. We were surrounded by Reform and Conservative synagogues. If we joined one How long was it going to take me to feel like I belonged? Sigh.

Rather than join a congregation, we decided to remain with our kehillah - our informal Jewish community - until the timing was right.

So, we were faced with a conundrum. When you make the decision to leave your congregation, what do you do for the 3rd grader who is just about to begin his formal religious education? You start a school. Why not?

Why did we want to start a school? We wanted to provide our child with:

• An ongoing religious education
• Friends who are Jewish
• Religious continuity
• Community
• A religious lens on the world
• The same education that his older sister had

We were very fortunate to find a teacher who we knew and who was willing to work with a group of parents who had very strong opinions. :) However, the teacher we wanted wasn't available to have class on Sunday morning or in the evening during the week. The best option was Sunday evenings. Location? The local grocery store's upper room. (The irony of it being the upper room is not lost on this Interfaith Mom.) The parents who collaborated on the curriculum decided to invite all of the families to arrive early each Sunday, grab dinner in the prepared foods section, and eat dinner together prior to class. It was wonderful! The kids became fast friends, the parents had plenty to talk about, and our religious school community was born.

Each week, the students started the class with a service. Many of the parents even attended the service. Our daughter became an aide in the school, along with the other older kids. We had built a community of peace.

Apple Picking for Rosh Hoshanah

We also had our extended community of adults whose children were beyond religious school. Our adult community joined us during our annual Chanukah celebration. In fact, they hosted us. Each family brought a menorah, and we lit them together. We joined together to celebrate the High Holy Days. The adults attended our school Shabbat service. They made our children feel like they were part of a religious community.

I am sure that these parents who we dined with each week in the upper room and the larger adult community who supported us never had any idea of their long-term impact on our interfaith family's life. If it wasn't for them, it would have been easy to throw my hands up and say, "Hey, I tried." Instead, I say, "Thank you."

Embracing What Joins Us

At our daughter's Bat Mitzvah, we celebrated the similarities among our friends and families rather than emphasize the differences.

Family

As the youngest of six, I am very fortunate to have nieces and nephews who are close to my age. So, our daughter was raised with first cousins who are like aunts and uncles and second cousins who are her contemporaries. Her first cousin was like a second mother to our daughter when she was a baby. Dropping her off at her cousin's house was the easiest part of being a working mom. My niece and her family have included us in all of their family celebrations. Our relationship with her family has been integral to our children's' connection to my side of the family. My niece and her husband are the epitome of what it means to live the golden rule. They have always been kind, loving, and supportive, and they expected nothing in return. So, at our daughter's Bat Mitzvah, we asked my niece to select and read a passage from the Catholic Bible that had the same theme as our daughter's Torah portion, the golden rule.

Friends

Our neighborhood was unofficially a 55-and-over community in its early days. We were the babies. So, when our daughter was about 6 years old, and we found out that we had new neighbors with children, we ran over to the playground, hoping they'd show up. Our children quickly hit it off with their children. And the mom and I became fast friends. When my neighbor mentioned that her mother-law's native language was Arabic, my mind began to race, "Oh no, what if when they find out our kids are Jewish, they decide that our children cannot play together?" I waited several meetings before broaching the subject. As it turned out, my new friend had figured it out, and it was okay. Now, our kids fondly refer to the dad as Baba. He even came to our congregation to talk to my book club about Islam and forever changed, in a positive way, a Jewish group's view about Muslims. (That's a future blog post!)

When my husband was rushed to the ER in the middle of the night, it was this friend who came out on an icy night and slept on our couch until I came home. It was she who sat with me for 10 hours at the hospital. They are wonderful examples of doing to others as you would have them do unto you. At our daughter's Bat Mitzvah, we asked them to select several readings from the Quran with the same theme as the Torah portion - and read them from the bimah.

We wanted to remind our friends and families that our similarities are so much greater than our differences. Our goal was to embrace what joins us.

Happy New Year!

This week began the holiday season for Jews around the world. For many interfaith families, the holiday season begins with Rosh Hashanah (the New Year) and goes through to Passover with a mix of Jewish and Christian holidays in between. Celebrating Jewish holidays is different than celebrating Christian holidays in many ways. Jewish holidays start the night before the date of the holiday and revolve around either attending services or being with family; some holidays do not include attending services, in which case, the holiday is celebrated at home. The High Holy Days are celebrated in Synagogue, and in my husband's family, we have a family dinner on Erev Rosh Hashanah (Erev is the "night before.") 

Apples and honey help to usher in a sweet new year

I've been celebrating the High Holy Days with my husband's family for 30 years now. During those first years, my father-in-law was a congregational Cantor, so, we didn't have a leisurely family meal. After dinner we dashed off to services. I still have a vivid memory from those first evening holiday services -- arriving at Temple to see the congregants mulling about at the steps to the building. When the service was over, they stood outside talking as well. This never happened at my church. Maybe it's because we went to Mass every week, so we saw other congregants regularly. Sure, there were those who attended Mass only on Christmas and Easter but not our friends. Some Jews attend weekly services for Shabbat (each Friday/Saturday), but most do not. Many, especially those with grown children, only pass through the doors of the Synagogue for the holidays. Spending time together before services start is a way to catch up on the past year. It's community. 

Something that shocked me early on is that you actually need a ticket to attend Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur services. As a result, it is a common to join a congregation just before the High Holy Days. We joined our Synagogue a few weeks before the start of the holidays, when our son was a newborn and our daughter was 3. It bothered me so much that there was a children's service, separate from the adults. In my Catholic upbringing, everyone attended Mass together. (Our Church never had a crying room.) However, only 1 Mass per year was any longer than an hour, and we never went to it. A typical Rosh Hashanah service is 3 hours long. The highlight of the service is thesounding of the Shofar. One of the first things my husband did was to sound the Shofar.  

Sounding the Shofar at Tashlich on Rosh Hoshanah

When we left our Synagogue - 7 years ago now - we started a Kehilat, a community of prayer. That was in July. Since the Jewish calendar revolves around the High Holy Days, our new community needed to begin planning for our own High Holiday services as soon as we formed. Unlike a Catholic Mass, which needs a priest, a Jewish service can be led by a lay person; my husband was asked (or offered) to lead services. He spent the two months meeting with our liturgical committee and pouring over the prayer book to design the services. Once again…I knew he was Jewish, but not this Jewish. For 5 years, my husband acted as Rabbi and Cantor for a "congregation" of 100 or so. They came back year after year to enjoy the service that he and the liturgical committee put together. These services were bittersweet. Our reason for being together was sad, but being together was a sign that we were committed to being part of a Jewish community. 

Prayer Book Prepared for High Holy Day Services

The uniqueness of our Rosh Hashanah service revolved around its location. The service was held in a park - rain or shine. We had hot mornings, cool mornings and one with full-blown thunderstorms. Through the 15+ years I have attended services as an interfaith mom, these outdoor services were the highlight of my journey. Services are often, for lack of a better word, generic. They are nothing like the spiritual connection to G-d that I had as a Catholic. Although our service was in the park, everyone still dressed as we would for services in the Synagogue - suits, dresses, heels. However, we each carried a lawn chair with us. Sitting on a lawn chair in a pavilion surrounded by trees and a lake gave the new year an inspirational start. My husband takes great pride in bringing meaning to services - through music and teachings. He never discussed the service with me prior to it happening, so I entered the "room" just like anyone else in the congregation. It was always interesting to hear my own husband give the D'var Torah (like a homily/sermon) and to hear his spiritual side emerge. As much as we discussed the logistics of having an interfaith family, we never discussed the spiritual side. As a result, this was eye-opening. 

Our View During Services

At the conclusion of each morning Rosh Hashanah service, we joined together for lunch in the park. We ate together as a community -- one that began as a result of much angst. This holiday service was a milestone each year. We wondered if we would ever join together again in the building from whence we came. Spoiler alert - we've been back at our Synagogue for 3 High Holy Days as of this year.

After services, we join others by a stream, lake, or creek for a lesser-practiced tradition of Tashlich. For a Catholic, it is reminiscent of Confession but with a much more positive spin. You bring a piece of bread to the water, tear off pieces representing the wrongs of the year that you'd like to cast aside, and toss them into the running water. This casting away of your sins gives you the opportunity to start the new year with a fresh slate. 

Tashlich by the River

Tashlich at the Lake

L'Shanah Tovah!

The Break Up

Momentarily, it will be Erev Rosh Hashanah. I wish all of you a sweet new year. 

-----------------------------------------------------------

Once I realized how I was feeling about the day-to-day of being an interfaith mom, I decided to reach out to our Rabbi. In preparation, I wrote what would become, many years later, the beginning of this blog. I thought it was important for him to know what my journey had been and where it had taken me.

I shared my journey with the Rabbi, when we sat down for breakfast on Halloween morning. He read through everything I had written and asked me many questions along the way. We developed a plan. I was going to focus on my spiritual side; I was going to explore the possibilities.
My husband was the VP of the Synagogue Board. I was in bed and didn't hear him arrive home from a board meeting. The phone rang just after midnight. Next thing I knew, he was standing at the foot of the bed. "That was the doctor's office. He wants me to go to the hospital." He was having a heart attack.

A week later, I was offered a part-time consulting project that turned into a 5 year commitment and the experience of a lifetime. I was fulfilled professionally and, to some extent, personally. There was no time to explore my spiritual side. And, the feelings I expressed in my previous post disappeared, until…3 years later.

My husband had a heart attack. That next 6 months is a blur. My mind and heart were focused on him and our children. It was 18 months from when our daughter would become a Bat Mitzvah, and our son was 9 years old.

My husband was not yet ready to tell people what had happened; however, my daughter had a class Shabbat that Friday night. So, along with the kids, I went to services. The Mi shebeirach (a prayer for healing) had a new meaning, and I was just about able to keep it together while we sang this blessing. Here I was - a Catholic mother with two Jewish children, wondering what was going to happen to her Jewish husband.

Somehow, my husband continued his work on the Synagogue's board as soon as he could. Besides being reminded by the Rabbi that he had a Bat Mitzvah to live for - and a Bar Mitzvah not too long after that - I think my husband's place on the Board was one of the things that kept him focused on his recovery. It started with phone calls. Then he started going to meetings. Then he was there all of the time. He had been nominated to be President. His passion for the Synagogue consumed him.

He became President in early June. Within a matter of weeks the beloved Rabbi's contract was not renewed, and there were members of our Synagogue community who were unhappy. Without going into detail, I'll simply say that my husband was treated very badly by some in our community. It still pains me to think about it. I came from a background where politics such as we were embroiled in is unheard of. Priests come and go, and the community has no input. As a result, the parishioners are generally not surprised when change occurs, and they welcome the incoming priest and his fresh perspective. So, I did not expect the venom and meanness that came our way.

One of the low points of this experience was the Congregational meeting just after it happened. I had taken the kids to a swim meet – trying hard to keep their lives as normal as possible. We drove past the Synagogue to see how many cars were in the parking lot. Cars were parked along the main road, the driveway, and there was a full lot. However, there were POLICE CARS parked out front. I was afraid. We had been receiving harassing emails, and we had contacted the police. Had someone come to blows? Was my husband at risk? No, they were just there to keep an eye on things.

My husband spoke at the Congregation meeting, and he was well received. gave a chronological order of events that night to explain to the Congregation all that had transpired leading to this point. They gave him a standing ovation. At that point, I don’t think he gave a damn. On the other hand, I was so proud of him. I was beginning to understand what all of this had meant to him. I was beginning to appreciate him again – for the Jewish man he is rather than for the man I thought he should be.

Three weeks later, the Rabbi said the equivalent of he goes or I go. My  my husband resigned his post as President. For him, I think this decision and the way he was treated were worse than his heart attack.

However, now that this had all come to pass, we had no house of worship where we felt welcome. With a Bat Mitzvah less than a year away, we remained members during that year. However, for services we gathered with others of like mind. I was frustrated. For the past four years, I gave my husband over to that congregation. And he had been tossed back to me – with a new perspective on what it means to be Jewish. I had given up my own religion to raise my children as Jews. Now, the rabbi who I trusted with my deepest thoughts about my own spirituality had been the one who used my husband as his scapegoat. After all I had sacrificed, we had nothing of a spiritual home. Just as this happened, our daughter was to begin her Bat Mitzvah training. For my husband, this was supposed to be one of the highlights of fatherhood. Now, so much of the joy had been sucked out of the planning. It was not fair.

Time Marches On

When our son was born, we decided to join a Jewish congregation. We live in the town where my husband grew up, and his father had retired as the Cantor at a Reform congregation just across the river. We considered joining there, but we wanted to be in the same town where our children would eventually go to school. During my husband's childhood, there were very few synagogues to choose from. In fact, just about the time we were joining a congregation, an elderly woman asked him where he lived. When he responded, she said, "What! You couldn't rub 2 Jews together there." She was shocked to hear that there were indeed 3 synagogues in our town - Reform, Conservative, and Reconstructionist. She gave her opinion: "Reconstuctionist? That's worse than Reform." Although we seriously considered joining the local Reform congregation, where I had taken my Intro to Judaism class, we were told that although I would be welcome in the community and most likely drive my children to/from religious school 2 days a week until they are 13, I would not be able to fully participate in their B'nai Mitzvah. I could almost be an equal parent in my children's religious life. As a result, we did not join that community. Instead, we joined the Reconstructionist synagogue, one that was, and still is, very welcoming of interfaith families. Reconstructionists are all about being Jewish in the United States in the 21st century; it was a good fit.

As I mentioned in my Bringing Challah to Pesach post, I decided to get involved by participating in and even running programs. Although I always felt a little out of place, I knew that doing things at the synagogue was the only way I was going to begin to feel like this was home to me.

In the meantime, I was very lucky to be surrounded by a large Catholic family. They kept me connected to my history. All through the years, I shared in Catholic milestones with my parents, my local brothers, and my nieces' and my nephews' families. My children have a nice relationship with their cousins. I don't think they see each other as "Jewish" or "Catholic" - just as cousins. So that was wonderful. However, although we attended many Baptisms, First Communions, and Christmas Eves, my children were always on the periphery. It was sort of like walking through a big city and looking through the windows at the beautiful displays -- at things you knew you'd never have.

Obviously, I knew that my husband was Jewish when I married him. I just didn't know he was "that Jewish." About the time that our oldest child began religious school, he began to get involved in congregational life. He played music for Shabbat. He published the newsletter and managed the email communications. Then, all of a sudden, he was on the board. Before I knew it, he was the Vice President.

I think I was jealous - of the time he spent with the board members, the Rabbi, planning the music, and attending meetings - lots and lots of meetings.

After much reflection, many years later, I realized that my husband was exactly what I would want as far as involvement in our congregation. He was on the board. He was involved in the music. Everyone knew him - and me. He was branching out into other outreach type of responsibilities at a regional level. People thought highly of him and his dedication. At some point I realized that, if only it were in “another building,” I would have been thrilled.

After doing “this” for 9 ½ years, it took a toll on me. As my daughter became deeply ingrained in being Jewish (and announced she’ll raise her children Jewish), I had a realization about just how much of our life revolves around being Jewish.

I realized that it wasn't about the holidays. We were still doing Christmas to some extent. But, in our home, the rest was gone, and I honestly had no problem with that. I did not grow up with lots of tradition, so I was not missing that piece. What had become overwhelming was the everyday of it: When my son blasted Rick Recht on his CD player. Or when he and his buddy made believe they were in a band and belted out Rick Recht tunes. When my husband practiced Micha Mocha for hours on end and then asked me for my critique. “How do I critique it,” I shouted at him, “when I have no sense of where it belongs, even if you translate it for me?” Or when my daughter and her friend asked if Eve was the first Jewish woman? How do I answer that?

It wasn't that my children are Jewish; it’s that I had no history to share with them. No music to share. I tried to get my daughter interested in the things I did as a kid, like Girl Scouts, despite the fact that she was not all that interested. Little by little I began to feel like my children were missing out on all the years of my life that had come before them. And I was sad.

Musical History

A few days ago, I was traveling through the mountains of Pennsylvania. During my drive, I was listening to a radio station that was featuring one-hit wonders. Often, as I drive through the mountains, my radio will pop in and out of Christian radios stations. So, I wasn't shocked when I was suddenly listening to one of my all-time favorite songs from my Catholic high school days - The Lord's Prayer by Sister Janet Mead. I couldn't help but break out into glorious song. It was 3 minutes of unbridled joy for me - singing one of the songs of my youth. When the song ended, I was surprised that the station had not switched. The Lord's Prayer was one of the one-hit-wonders.

I love to sing. When I was teaching in a Catholic school, I learned to play guitar well enough that I could play the hymns at Mass. I led the singing in one of the schools, and I was the folk group leader in my parish each Sunday. My parents loved to sing in church as well. There was no mumbling the words in my family. You sang out strong, or you didn't sing at all. We believed in the axiom, "He who sings prays twice."

As a new mother, when my babies woke up in the middle of the night, the songs that came to mind as I rocked them back to sleep were always those I grew up with like Let There Be Peace on Earth, Hail Mary, Gentle Woman, The Prayer of Saint Frances, and The Lord's Prayer. I knew all of the words and the melodies. In the middle of the night, I had an internal debate. Did I sing these songs to my newborn babies? Was it wrong? Should I change the words? I was a Catholic mother singing to my newborn Jewish babies, struggling for the words to sing.

When my children grew into toddlers, we had new songs to sing - You Are My Sunshine, Itsy Bitsy Spider, and the songs from Disney Channel - Bear in the Big Blue House and Out of the Box. One of my most wonderful memories as a mom was a visit to the local mall to see the Playhouse Disney tour. I felt such a sense of camaraderie with the parents and children in that mall. We shared a common thread in our lives as parents; it gave me chills as we all sang the songs of our children's youth.

When my children were toddlers, my husband began to get more involved in our congregation. He offered to play the piano for services. In no time, he was composing liturgical music. So our home was filled with Shabbat music throughout the week. As he played more often, the songs and blessings became more a part of our daily lives than I ever imagined they would be. These were songs that, until a few years earlier, I had never heard. He knew every version from multiple Jewish movements - Reconstructionist, Reform, and, in some cases, Conservative and Orthodox. He could go into a congregation and sing along with almost any prayer. It was sort of like me being able to sing versions of Holy, Holy or Lamb of God from the 60's, 70's and 80's. Yet, I was still struggling to sing Lecha Dodi or the Shema. To this day, I still refer to the prayer book for the words.

This is the music I was hearing at home.

In my mind, I sent my preschoolers to a Jewish day school to provide them with a history that I couldn't give them. I wanted them to learn the songs and prayers that have meaning in Judaism. When they came home singing those songs, I realized that the lack of shared musical history was not a problem for my children; it was a problem for me. I was the one missing out, and I had no musical history to share.

Books that an Interfaith Mom Could Love

As a family, we spent many afternoons and early evenings perusing the books at Barnes & Noble. My children always appreciated a gift card to a book store. Each week, we made time to visit the public library; we always had 10 books per child checked out. Up until the time my children were in Middle School, reading books together was part of our nightly ritual. When they were little ones, we read during the day as well. As an educator, good books with wonderful stories and illustrations are part of who I am. My favorite college course was Children's Literature with Dr. Dornish. Ah, the joy of picking up a good book and sharing it with children. And, when I was teaching, the day the Scholastic book order arrived was the best day of the month - for my students and for me.

Since we are an interfaith family, we read books about Christian holidays as well as Jewish holidays. However, I realized early on that the pickings were slim for books about Jewish holidays or Jewish themes. The fact that there were so many beautiful books about Christmas, and there was next to nothing about Chanukah annoyed me. Upon reflection, Chanukah is actually a minor holiday on the Jewish calendar. It is really only emphasized in the United States because it falls so close to Christmas. However, as an interfaith Mom, that gave me no solace. If everyone else's children had the opportunity to enjoy a book about their holiday, my children should as well. 

So, as I began looking for books for all Jewish holidays, I was saddened by the selection. Either the stories were ridiculous and trying to replicate the traditions of a Christian holiday that falls during the same season, or poorly written with mediocre images. When you have young children, you look for picture books with pictures that could be considered for the Caldecott Medal. As they reach chapter books, you hope for stories that are worthy of the Newbery Medal. The books I found were disappointing to say the least.

There were two exceptions. There were quite a few novels for young readers about being an interfaith family at Christmas. Also, while my daughter was in middle school, she read every book she could find that had a Holocaust theme, and there were many.

What I have been describing is based on my experience as a mother of young children. Fast forward to today. For those of you who would like to read to your children or provide your children with good books with Jewish themes, the news is good. Just recently, I was introduced to the PJ Library. On a monthly basis, children ages 6 months - 8 years can receive a free Jewish-themed book delivered to their doorstep. Oh, how I wish PJ Library existed when my children were little! I can just imagine the joy when the mail delivery arrived. On a recent afternoon, I had the opportunity to check out many of the books from PJ Library. The pictures? Fabulous! The stories? Engaging. The selection? Amazing! Although these books are also available at bookstores without the PJ imprint, as an extra bonus, the PJ Library-imprinted books have a book jacket flap that makes beautiful connections between the content and Jewish themes. By the way, for your older kids, there is PJ Our Way and PJ Goes to School. Those of you in Jewish homes with young children are very fortunate.

As we approach the Jewish High Holidays, Thanksgiving, and Christmas, I encourage you to begin your search for wonderful books. I hope you'll share your favorites in the Comments below. 

In Response to My Brother's Questions

This topic of my children being raised Jewish has really not come up in conversations between my brothers and sisters-in-law and me. Maybe it's a "boy" thing; they just never asked. And I really don't remember telling them. I assume my parents did.

One of my brothers has consistently gone out of his way to send our family cards for Chanukah, asked us about the High Holidays, and read about Judaism.

That same brother let me know that he is reading my blog. I am delighted. Today, he sent me an email asking me a few questions that I figured I'd respond to in a blog post, since others may be wondering the same thing.

First, he asked what happened to the cross in my logo. It seems that part of it was cut off on some screen resolutions (the reason I removed it from the blog until we sort that out). There was nothing more to the logo than that. My son created the image, and I liked that it showed the blending of our two faiths. However, they are distinctly different. Either way, I think that the technology malfunction sparked his questions.

Are you a practicing Catholic? 

I am not. If you are one of my friends from K-12, that probably surprises you. When our class was voting for most likely to succeed, I was voted most likely to become a nun! And, if you've ever listened to Billy Joel's Only the Good Die Young, I feel like he was singing about me.

There was a time when I considered going back to the Church. I even went back to Mass a couple of times; however, I realized that I was just going through the motions.

So, there, I've said it. Before you judge, I hope you'll take a look at all of your family and friends who are Catholic and married to Catholics (or other "matching" religions) and consider whether or not they are practicing Catholics (or fill-in-the-blank).

Although my brother didn’t ask, I’ll answer. No, I haven’t converted.

Do the kids know anything about Christianity, traditions and holi/holy days? 

Absolutely! You'll read about our celebrations as we approach the holidays. But to be quick about it, we celebrate Christmas Eve every year with my niece's family. Then we spend Christmas Day with my nephew's family. The Christmas before my mom died, the kids decorated Grandmom and Grandpop's house for Christmas, since my parents weren’t up for it. My kids would not allow Christmas to pass without decorations. We decorate our house every year – just with snow men and ornament trees rather than with religious decorations and a green Christmas tree. My children understand what Christians believe about Jesus and his significance; however, they don’t understand the differences between Christians. I'm sure my daughter will begin to learn more during her college years.

Christmas on Shabbat

Since Easter and Good Friday were considered holy days at our house growing up, I've always treated it that way in our home. I did give our kids Easter baskets for quite a few years, and, of course we always visited my Mom and Dad. I even told my children all about the days within Holy Week and what that week is all about. However, without much non-religious tradition to fall back on, that has been the extent of our Easter celebration.

The only times my children have been to Mass has been one Christmas Eve and 2 funerals. I told them about the "St. Joseph" side of the church and the "Blessed Mother" side. (We always sat on the Blessed Mother side.) They've asked about Communion, incense, and the crucifix, which I explained as I would to my own students.

My Dad prayed the rosary every day for 70 years. Since it was very important to my Dad, they understand its significance as well.

So, yes, we have exposed our children to Catholicism. They love their Catholic family. However, they don't consider themselves half-Catholic.

My kids are Jewish and identify themselves as Jews with a Catholic mother and Catholic extended family.

Bringing Challah to Pesach

If you're a mom raising children in a religion other than your own, it helps to have engaged extended family members. As it turns out, when we decided to raise our future children Jewish, my mother-in-law had already been battling cancer for a couple of years. We lost her only 6 months after our daughter was born. So, I began my journey as an interfaith mom with a significant piece of my "raising my children Jewish" support system gone.

Having taught in a religious school, albeit Catholic, I knew how important building a solid foundation was. So, both of our children attended preschool at a Jewish day school. I figured that while they went to preschool surrounded by Jewish prayers, learning to say them in Hebrew, learning the Hebrew alphabet, and celebrating the holidays, that I, the non-Jewish mother, would be educated at the same time. It worked. No matter what the activity was, my husband and I were both there to participate - when she was the Shabbat Girl and he the Shabbat Boy, Grandparents' Day, Services, and field trips. My father-in-law and sister-in-law came to many of the events as well. My local Jewish sister-in-law made the decision that she would be surrogate grandmother to our children and attend all of the events she knew her mother would have attended. My other sister-in-law lives across the country, but she has always been there as a support as well. I never felt like I was alone.(Thanks :) )

While anticipating raising children in a religion that is not my own, I expected that the Christian holidays would be my hardest days. Don't get me wrong; those days are tough. However, it's the day-to-day little things that could take me over the edge.

One of the early struggles I had was the need to send a Dairy meal to preschool for lunch. Oh, and by the way, there was a peanut allergy, so we could not send PB&J. Yikes! I had no idea what I was going to send on the days that my daughter stayed for lunch. I felt like I was wearing a scarlet letter saying NOT JEWISH, and I didn't want to mess up. (I feared that I would be the one to offer to bring Challah to Pesach!) We somehow managed, and our children did not starve. Yet, 12 years later, I still cringe at the memory of making lunches for preschool.

Field trips were hard for me, as I watched the other mothers chatting away. They had their friends, and I never felt like I fit in. I desperately wanted to, but I was truly nervous about joining in on their conversations. I felt like I would say something wrong. Years later, I became friendly with some of those moms and discovered, in many cases, it was all in my head. So, if you are new to this world and want to be a part of it, take the plunge. Believe me, it can't be much harder than making the decision to raise your children in another faith.

Shortly after our second child was born, we joined a local synagogue. Our son was still in a baby carrier, and our daughter was a toddler. My sister-in-law and her husband also joined this congregation, even though, while their children were growing up, they had been members of another one. It has always been comforting to see them at services through the years. It made me feel like this decision was bigger than the two of us.

Being a member of a congregation was a key part of our growth as an interfaith family. It gave us events to attend - the Purim carnival, Friday night services, a chocolate Seder, Tot Shabbat, and family services. I like to do things 110%, so I knew I had to get involved. I organized the library. I worked on an art auction. I even organized and facilitated a panel discussion about Planning a Bar/Bat Mitzvah! Although our children attended another preschool, I helped with the launch of our congregation's preschool. There were times that people were surprised to hear that I was an interfaith mom, and I wasn't Jewish.

Fortunately, my sister-in-law's husband's extended family has become our adopted Jewish family. Between my sister-in-law and her extended family we had every holiday meal covered. As the kids got older, we hosted our share of holiday meals as well. My sisters-in-law can tell you that I called them several years in a row to find out if we needed wine for Erev Rosh Hoshanah or what we needed to include on a seder plate. 

I have been very lucky to have a supportive extended Jewish family. I believe that a sense of belonging is important. Not feeling like you are on the outside looking in is essential. Feeling like you are part of your child's religious education is priceless.