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Sept. 30, 2005
When there's only one Jew
How interfaith families find ways to cope with the High Holidays.
RONNIE CAPLANE
It was Yom Kippur, 1992. Sari McClure had come to services at Temple
Isaiah in Lafayette, Calif., alone. Her husband, John, isn't Jewish
and being a new member, McClure didn't know many people. McClure
remembers sitting by herself on a folding chair in the back of the
sanctuary, crying.
"My father had just died," McClure said. The man sitting
next to her handed her a tissue, but when she turned to thank him,
he was gone. She felt very lonely. "It was awful," she
recalled.
For many, an experience like that would turn them off temple life.
But not McClure. She took action. Knowing that Isaiah had a large
number of interfaith families, she started an informal group called
September Situations, the High Holidays counterpart to the "December
dilemma."
"It dealt with interfaith family issues during the High Holy
Days," said McClure. "It gave people a forum to get together
and share their feelings of loneliness during the High Holidays."
The group helped congregants connect with other interfaith families
and provided them with the opportunity to talk about what the High
Holiday experience is like for them.
According to Ronnie Friedland, co-editor of The Guide to Jewish
Interfaith Family Life, an anthology of articles from www.InterfaithFamily.com,
the High Holidays are often a difficult time for interfaith families,
in part because of differences between how Jews and Christians perceive
what it means to be a Jew.
"Many Jews don't attend synagogue except during the High Holidays,
yet still feel very Jewish. Some non-Jewish spouses feel that not
attending synagogue the rest of the year means that their Jewish
spouse isn't much of a Jew," said Friedland. "Also, Christians
don't really have comparable religious observances to Rosh Hashanah
and Yom Kippur."
In addition to the more ethereal issues surrounding interfaith families
and the High Holidays, September Situations also helps with the
very practical problem of having someone to sit with during services.
"It's very meaningful to sit with someone," said McClure.
Out of that grew an informal seating arrangement where anyone who
came to services alone – whether on Friday night or High Holidays
– knew that in a section on the right-hand side of the sanctuary,
they would find others who were also alone. And it wasn't limited
to interfaith families. Those who were single, widowed, divorced
or were just going solo for the night had a home. It made a tremendous
difference.
"People know when they walk into the synagogue they'll find
others to sit with," said McClure.
Although John McClure, a lapsed Catholic, supported raising his
daughters Jewish and participated in their bat mitzvahs, Sari McClure
says there still is a nagging loneliness during the High Holidays.
"When you walk into temple and see a man in his tallit with
his wife and children sitting next to him, you remember you're not
part of that anymore," she explained.
"We've been at this for a long time," said Ruth Fremes,
who is in her late 60s. Her husband is a non-Jewish Egyptian. "At
first [my husband] came to services with me because I felt lonely.
He's been surrounded by Jews his whole life and never feels out
of place."
This comfort factor Fremes attributes to the fact that the congregation
at her synagogue, Temple Beth Hillel in Richmond, Calif., is warm,
welcoming and small. It only has 100 families, many of whom are
interfaith. But even she agrees it's not the same as having a Jewish
spouse.
"The things that isolate him are that he doesn't believe and
he doesn't speak Hebrew," she said, adding that there are also
Jewish members of the congregation who don't speak Hebrew and sometimes
feel left behind. And when it comes to conversations with her granddaughter,
albeit hypothetical, about marrying in versus marrying out, Fremes
tells her, "the High Holidays are when you'll feel lonely.
People who are Jewish by birth have a transformation when they walk
into a synagogue."
There are many ways to accommodate each other, and interfaith couples
find those that work for them. For Debbie La Fetra, outreach chair
at Congregation Beth Am in Los Altos Hills, Calif., it means asking
her husband to make sure the car is fully fuelled so that she doesn't
have to go to a gas station and spend money on Rosh Hashanah or
Yom Kippur.
La Fetra's husband, Bruce, is Episcopalian. He's very active in
his church and rarely goes to services with her but is very respectful
and supportive of her going.
"Bruce doesn't really get into services in general," said
La Fetra. "It wouldn't be a comfort to me to have him there
because he's uncomfortable. He'd have to take off work. They're
too long and there's too much Hebrew."
So La Fetra makes arrangements to meet friends and sit with them
at services.
"These days I know who's going to be there," said La Fetra,
who's very active in her congregation. "There was one year
when my parents were able to come. That was wonderful. Sure I miss
my family. I miss [Bruce]."
And when it comes to the holiday meal, there are many ways to handle
that. Beth Hillel hosts a Rosh Hashanah lunch, which the Fremes
attend. Sari McClure belongs to an informal chavurah of interfaith
families which does an erev Rosh Hashanah dinner and break fast
together.
When attending these events, Friedland reminds the Jewish partner
not to ignore their other half.
"When attending gatherings around the High Holidays, the Jewish
partner can help the non-Jewish partner feel comfortable by spending
a lot of time with him or her, making sure that the non-Jewish partner
feels included and special," she suggested. "He or she
is often in an unfamiliar world."
McClure added that, on a year-round basis, you should make your
non-Jewish partner's world part of your own.
"It's important to honor your non-Jewish spouse's traditions,"
McClure said. "You don't have to do it religiously. Honor their
cultural heritage."
As with every marriage, whether interfaith or not, the key to success
is compromise.
"There are always compromises," said McClure.
Ronnie Caplane is a freelance writer in Piedmont, Calif.
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