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.

Out of Sight - Out of Mind?

We just dropped our daughter off to begin her second year of college at one of the largest universities in the United States. One of the many things I wondered about when she started college was whether or not she would participate in religious experiences on campus.

When she was "talking" with prospective roommates via text and Facebook, she had put together a list of questions to ask. This being new to me, since, back in the day, roommate assignments were random, I asked her what she was asking. I was shocked that one of her questions was along the lines of, "I’m Jewish. Is that okay with you?" Yikes! It never dawned on me, the interfaith mom, that this would be a concern she would have. Fortunately, she found a roommate who is happy to hear about how her family celebrates the holidays.

As huge as her university is, our daughter discovered something that shocked her. She is the first Jew that most of her friends had EVER met! Yes, the FIRST! She also discovered that universities don't close for Jewish holidays.

I marveled midway through the year that my Christian friends, family, and acquaintances were so disappointed that their children missed Easter at home. My daughter had already missed being home for all of the big Jewish holidays - Rosh Hashanah, Yom Kippur, Passover, and yes, the minor, yet family-oriented, Chanukah.

Our family has always fully participated in the Jewish holidays - at home and in Shul. As you know, the High Holidays are about 5 minutes into the school year. We have always been fortunate that our school system closes for the High Holidays.  I wondered if our daughter would attend services for Rosh Hashanah. Would she fast for Yom Kippur?

 As a young woman out on her own for the first time, she had to go to her professors and let them know that she'd either miss class or be late for class, so that she could attend services. In order to do this, she had to be comfortable in her Jewishness. She had to have no fear that her desire to practice her faith would be questioned. She had to have a strong Jewish identity.

When the school year started, she knew one guy from home who attended the same school. They had worked together in religious school, but they weren't particularly close until the end of Senior year. She was happy to run into him at RH services. He was sitting with a young woman, whom he had met at a Jewish activity back near home. They invited her to join them for YK services. Before I knew it, they were hanging around together at college. The girls baked Challah together at Hillel. They went to a couple of Shabbat services together. She had made her Jewish connection.

On my visit just before Chanukah, I arrived with a suitcase filled with 8 small gifts. She got a kick out of that. That's when I saw her cute little Christmas tree - about 12 inches high. It was right next to the menorah that our dear friend made for her and the cheap electric one that we got for her in Senior year to be sure she had one in college. On the first night of Chanukah, we Face-Timed with her to sing the blessings and light the candles. We lit ours; she lit hers. We sang. 

Since she is one for tradition, it quickly became one. Each night, she joined us to light the candles.  Each night, more of her friends would join us virtually - Christians and Jews alike. When the Jewish friends joined her, it was delightful to hear them all join us in singing the blessings.

As Passover approached, she planned to come home for the Seders. It was perfect since it would be on Friday and Saturday nights. We weren't hosting this year, but she wanted to bring two of her Christian friends home with her to join us. Our wonderful hosts generously said yes to her request. Everything was set, until she realized that her friends' classes ended too late to catch the bus. "Mom, will you come get us?" 4 hours there; 4 hours back. 3 hour Seder. "Of course, I'll come." How could I say no, when I had worked so hard for 19 years leading up to this moment?

So, here we are after dropping her off at school to begin her second year. The holidays are a bit late this year - in October. She'll be deep into classes by then. Looking forward to seeing how she lives her Jewish life this year.

The Naming and the Bris

We chose not to be told in advance whether we were having a girl or a boy. When our daughter was born, we knew that there would be a naming. Since we wanted to set the stage from the beginning that a girl is equal to a boy, we decided that her naming would be 8 days after her birth.

I'd like to say right here that the 8 day rule must have been created by men. The house was clean, since we were getting ready for baby. However, we were just figuring out how to be parents. There were bottles and baby paraphernalia everywhere. And, of course, there's that fact that I had just given birth. Thank G-d for my mother-in-law and my husband's Godmother. They made sure our guests had something to nosh on after the service.

The service was lead by the same Rabbi who taught my Intro to Judaism class. She made sure to include everyone and make everyone comfortable.

A little over 3 years later, our second child's birth called for a Bris. 

In an attempt to make my parents feel part of this milestone, the Rabbi asked if my Dad would like to hold the baby during the Bris. Uh?! Are you kidding? My Dad had 5 sons and had never witnessed a single Bris. Not a chance I was going to ask him to do this.

I had only been to one Bris prior to this, and I wasn't prepared for how I'd feel. At our friends' son's Bris, I stayed with the new Mom who sat at the top of the steps with her friends. She just couldn't be in the room. At our son's Bris, I wanted to be there for the main event. My husband convinced me that I would feel better knowing what was going on rather than in another room wondering. 

So, there we were surrounded by family and friends. The mohel had it down to a science. He handed my husband and me a prayer to say. We read it while crying, and by the time we finished, the deed was done.

They then handed my father the baby and a "lollipop" soaked in wine. The baby sure liked that lollipop! 

Sharing the Decision

So, the decision was made. Now what? To be honest with you, I was scared to death to share the decision with anyone. Although I was no longer teaching in a Catholic school at this time, I had a huge Catholic family. My parents were devout Catholics. Dad went to mass every day, and he had been praying the rosary daily for nearly 50 years.

As it turns out, it took a while to get pregnant, so I had some extra time. Then, once I was pregnant, I wimped out! It took 8 months before I was brave enough to tell the soon-to-be grandparents that we would raise our children Jewish.

We went together from house to house, me with a lump in my throat. I remember sitting in my in-laws' kitchen, and, when we told them, they just about danced a jig. We told my parents while sitting at the kitchen table too. My Mom asked, “If it’s a boy, will you name him Isaac?”

Years later, my mother revealed that she and my father had assumed that, if we had a son someday, he would be raised Jewish - and a girl would be raised Catholic. I'm not sure where they got that idea...it certainly never crossed our minds.

Honestly that's all we remember. I just asked my husband if he remembers anything else from that night. It's interesting that neither of us have any strong memories of that momentous occasion. It just happened. I don't recall telling my brothers. Maybe I left it to my parents to tell them. Maybe they figured it out when they were invited to a baby naming, instead of a baptism.

What I do remember is this. From the moment they were born, our children were treated no differently than any other grandchild.

A month later...

My mother-in-law, who died 6 months after our daughter's birth, must have begun preparing for the naming as soon as we told her. As sick as she was, she and my husband's Godmother managed to make enough cookies to  cover our dining room table with cookies for the reception. My parents and brothers all attended the naming - on a work day. I remember sitting in my bedroom holding our 8 days old daughter, looking out on to the front sidewalk wondering if they'd all come. They did.

Making the Decision

As my now-husband and I got more serious, it became clear that Religion was an issue. He was a Cantor’s son. I was a devout Catholic. We were in love. So, prior to even getting engaged, we decided to go for some pre-marriage counseling on the challenges facing interfaith marriages and families. We attended an 8 week session with 3 other couples. The outcome of that class was that the only real answer was to raise our children Jewish. We weren’t satisfied. One of the other couples found another counselor, so 3 of the couples, including us, moved on together. The result? The two of us decided we’d raise our children with an awareness and appreciation for both of our backgrounds, but we wouldn’t raise them in either religion.

I really don't remember telling our parents of this decision, although I am sure we did. Not too long afterward, we got engaged. Our wedding was at a hotel with both a rabbi and a priest officiating. Both of our families celebrated with us.

A few years into our marriage, another interfaith friend, who had raised his child in no religion, commented how his teenage son sometimes didn’t get jokes. Why? Because he didn’t have a strong enough background in any religion to understand their meaning. That really bothered me; I couldn't let it go.

I knew that my husband couldn’t raise his children Catholic. He told me that he’d feel like a foreigner in his own home. So, on my own, I considered if I could raise our children Jewish. At this point, I was no longer teaching. I was in the corporate world. I had expanded my horizons. And I was having difficulty getting pregnant. I decided to take an Intro to Judaism course at a local Reform Synagogue. It was 20 weeks long and included lots of reading in between. The course was taught by a female Rabbi. Some students were converting. Others were new to the religion. Some just wanted to re-educate themselves as adults.

My goal: to see if I could be comfortable raising my future children in a faith that I knew very little about. I wanted to see if I had any qualms about the beliefs. I wanted to be sure that there was no anti-Catholic sentiment.

After about 40 weeks worth of considering what it would mean to be part of an interfaith marriage and the impact it would have on our parents, children, and the two of us, I felt like I had it figured out.

At the conclusion of the course, I went to my husband and told him that I wanted our children to have a religious identity, and I was willing to raise them Jewish.

How I Got Here

Catholicism was the core of my being for the first 20+ years of my life. I did everything Catholic. I volunteered to work at camps in my parish. I earned the Marian (Blessed Mother) Medal. I prayed. I read my Bible. I attended morning Mass before school. I prayed the rosary. I went to confession. I bowed my head at Jesus’ name.

I attended 12 years of parochial school. In high school, I visited chapel. I got actively involved in discussions during religion class. I became disillusioned during my 9th or 10th grade Bible class. I was suddenly being told that the stories were - just stories, and I couldn't accept that revelation. However, I continued to take it all quite seriously. I got involved in weekend retreats and worked at the Church’s summer camp.

In college, I was very active in the Catholic community on campus. I was a charter member of the retreat program. I planned and ran the retreats. During my junior and senior years, I lived in the Catholic Community Center. When I had the opportunity, I spent time in chapel. I attended weekday Mass as often as possible. I was in Mass (for my sick brother), when I got the call that my brother was close to death.

When I graduated, I taught for 6 years in Catholic elementary schools. I taught everything, including Religion. Then around the same time I met my future husband, my 3rd and 4th grade students started asking me the same questions he asked. And my answer, “We believe it because we have faith, “ was unsettling.

An Interfaith Mom's Journey

Welcome to Interfaith Mom. This blog has been 30 years in the making. From the moment when we decided to take a course in interfaith marriage, to the birth of our children, and right up to the present with a Bat Mitzvah and a Bar Mitzvah under our belts and a child in college.

Although I am not an expert in this topic, I'd like to hope I've done a good job at it. If the proof is in the pudding, our daughter's college essay and her own blog about tradition tells me that we did something right. (And I'll share it at some point.) Of course, she just started college. Let's see where that takes us some day. Ah, yes! It will give me more to write about, I am sure.

Although this blog is from the Mom's perspective, it takes two. My husband will tell you that often times, when we think we've got it right - and I'm good with the decision we made - I'll break into tears for what appears to be no reason. Those are the moments when it becomes clear that it really does take two and that this decision is certainly not over and done with once you make it. It comes back into view regularly throughout your marriage, family milestones, and day-to-day life.

My goal is to share my journey and show you how it has developed and will continue to develop along the way.

Welcome to my journey as an Interfaith Mom.