Hearts of the City / Exploring attitudes and issues behind the news : DEALING WITH A DILEMMA AT THE HOLIDAYS
I am Christian. My husband is Jewish. Until recently, this was hardly a problem during the holidays. I didn’t care if my husband put up a menorah and celebrated Hanukkah, he didn’t care if I endlessly sang “Have Yourself A Merry Little Christmas” and wanted a tree. He, in fact, insisted on picking one out and decorating it with me. It was all just fine, because neither one of us was exactly religious.
But now we have young children and suddenly the Jewish/Christian thing has become something we’re confronting. The fact that I’ve turned from a fairly lapsed Episcopalian into a fairly active one this past year has undoubtedly made me reflect on it even more.
Do we do Hanukkah this year? Or do we do the “Away in the Manger” bit? And what about the strange fat man in the big red suit and white beard? Where does he fit into this crowded scenario? Is it crazy for our children to be exposed to all three as we’re doing now? Or will they be hopelessly confused and wind up as atheists? Not that I have heard any hard and fast answers to these questions.
Many of the couples I know in this position have done the sensible thing.: They’ve converted to Buddhism.
This business of choosing, it’s all a bit like being confronted with the dessert tray and being asked, which will it be: the creme brulee or the chocolate decadence? There is no right answer. And yet it seems to be that some sort of serious response is called for on the interfaith question, because so many parents are now dealing with it.
Until now, I’ve never thought of myself as being part of a “mixed marriage.” When I first met my in-laws eight years ago at Thanksgiving, It was love at first sight. My husband then lived in the Fairfax district, and after dinner, my father-in-law and I walked around the corner to Canter’s for bagels. It was cold and clear and the stars were as sparkly as diamonds, and my father-in-law unselfconsciously draped his arm around me and hugged me close as we walked. It was perhaps at that moment that I knew I loved their son. Devout-in-their-heart Jews, it never would have occurred to my in-laws to reject me because I was Christian.
Frankly, I find the religious fanaticism in places like Northern Ireland and the Middle East entirely baffling, not to mention hypocritical.
It seems to me that God’s idea of promoting his name doesn’t involve people blowing up other people’s children with car bombs. The thing that drove me back to the church was not a sudden conviction that the Lord is my savior, but rather a church whose devotion to social justice mirrors my idea of Christianity and whose liturgy embraced “Christian” values . Hope. Inclusivity. Compassion. Goodwill toward Man (And Woman.) The same values we hope to impart to our children, religion aside.
When our children were toddlers, I took them to a “Mommy and Me” play group at a Jewish Community Center in our neighborhood. It was a warm, wonderful place, and at the end of every class we sat in a circle and sang Hebrew songs.
If we had continued to live in the area, our kids would have gone to preschool there. As it happens, the preschool they did attend - a warm, wonderful place - is part of a Presbyterian church. Once a week they go to chapel, where the school’s director teaches them Bible stories and songs. Their father thinks it’s just fine. Now he’s even on the preschool’s board of directors.
A few days ago, in this newspaper, there was an article on this very issue on the religion page. In it, several religious leaders offered their views on how children with one Jewish and one Christian parent should be raised. What was interesting about the story was not so much what each rabbi or minister or priest said, but their lack of unanimity on the subject.
Except for one unintentionally funny story, they had virtually nothing to offer. (The story involved a 13-year-old girl who showed up at her bat mitzvah wearing a cross. To me, this seemed to indicate one of two possibilities: either her parents or her religious instructors were seriously neglectful or dumb, or the girl was expressing some major hostility toward her parents.
As for the advice, one rabbi said that in his view, a child with a Christian parent shouldn’t be allowed to enroll in Hebrew school. Another rabbi countered that this would be self-defeating because it would drive the entire family away from Judaism entirely. A few ministers argued that parents should choose one religion to avoid the child being confused. So much for divine guidance.
Given this, I feel perfectly vindicated in the choice my husband and I have made regarding our own children. Which is to say we haven’t made a choice at all.
As for the holiday dilemma, I grew up singing and believing in “O Holy Night.” O Holy Night, the stars are brightly shining, it is the night of the dear Savior’s birth. Tradition dies hard, and all that. So my children will be raised on those words, too. But they will also embrace their Jewish side.
For eight nights we will light the menorah and recite the Hanukkah prayer. Their grandparents will give them Hanukkah gelt, their father will tell them the story of the Maccabees. I will haul out the Advent calendar, deck the boughs with holly and on Christmas Eve read “The Night Before Christmas.”
As the kids grow older, the questions will grow tougher. “Is Jesus really the son of God?” And from my already skeptical 5-year-old son, “Come on, Mom. A virgin birth?”
In the end, my children will make their own peace with religion. As long as they don’t give up believing in Santa Claus, the rest is all right with me.