The issue of intermarriage clearly poses a threat to Jewish continuity. Research has shown us that the children of intermarried couples exhibit lower rates of affiliation and expressions of Jewish identity. For a small and shrinking population of Jewish Americans, this should give us great pause when we consider such a sensitive issue.
On the other hand, the high rate of intermarriage is a sign of the amazing success of our past generations’ mission to assimilate, and to therefore ensure equality and opportunity for the Jews of today. The fact is, the average American considers a Jew to be an “up” marriage — they like the idea of marrying and spending their life with a Jew. Unless you predict an oncoming anti-Semitic resurgence, you should probably get used to high rates of intermarriage. Take it as a compliment.
Therefore, I believe that we as a Jewish community do ourselves great damage when we write off the descendants of intermarriage who think of themselves as Jewish or at least have the potential to do so. Furthermore, I believe that the frigid response often delivered by the Jewish community is at least partly to blame for the low affiliation rate of intermarried couples.
I believe that we would benefit by reframing the discussion from how to limit intermarriage (as that horse left the barn long ago) to how to best welcome and incorporate the non-Jewish spouse into Jewish life and support their efforts to sustain the Jewish home.
San Francisco State University professor Marc Dollinger was once posed the question: What percentage of American Jewish families qualify as “traditional”? (It was defined for the question as two heterosexual parents, both in their first marriage, both born Jewish, with children, who are not adopted.)
Though this family serves as the mythical target audience for Jewish policy and institutions even to this day, the answer to Dollinger’s question was a mere 5 percent.
Our Jewish institutions cling to a mythical ideal of Jewish identity for which 19 out of 20 Jewish American families fail to qualify. The sooner we erase our traditional stereotype of the makeup of a Jewish family, the better we will properly understand our constituency and effectively embrace the many non-Jews who support and nourish us every day.
Already, hundreds of thousands of supportive non-Jewish spouses play a pivotal role in the Jewish community. The curious, non-Jewish spouse brings all sorts of questions to their partner, who is forced to revisit issues long ago forgotten and to encounter Judaism on an adult level for the first time. They are often embarrassed by their own ignorance and inspired to learn more about their heritage. This is the possible blessing of intermarriage.
The fact is, marrying Jews to other Jews does not alone produce Jews. Jewish experience is the key, not Jewish lineage — and there is nothing to say that non-Jews cannot play a crucial role in this process, so long as they receive support and nurturing.
Earlier this year, I asked my eighth-grade class, “Who here believes it is important to marry someone Jewish?” Out of 40 students, not a single one agreed. I then asked, “Who here intends to raise their children as Jews?” Every single one agreed.
Now you may call these students naive. But remember that a majority of them are being raised themselves in interfaith households. And yet they are choosing to continue their Jewish education post–bar and bat mitzvah. Their mere presence in such a post–b’nai mitzvah class illustrates the fact that Jewish experience is not necessarily bound to Jewish lineage.
At the same time, I sometimes encounter interfaith families who choose to raise their children with dual religions, with the hope that one day the child will decide which one to follow. In this case, what sounds like a good idea can often turn into the projection of an unresolved argument onto the child. Ultimately, choosing a single religion may become akin to choosing the parent who subscribes to it. And if the child ultimately refuses to decide, they lose both religions — because to admire all religions is to lack a claim or identity with any religion.
I understand the fear and trepidation that surround this delicate issue. I also worry about transmitting the precious gift of Judaism that survived the fires of Auschwitz and expulsion from Spain.
But at the same time, I believe in Judaism and refuse to subscribe to our image as the eternally dying people. I believe that we endure and prosper by the maintenance of a highly porous membrane, which brings in the best of external influences.
Surely Judaism will adapt to this moment, as well, so long as we focus less on what happens during the half-hour spent under the chuppah and more on the lifetime that ensues once the couple walks down the aisle.
Rabbi Jonathan Jaffe is a member of the clergy at Congregation Emanu-El in San Francisco, where he oversees educational programming. He is a member of the Hartman Institute’s Rabbinic Leadership Initiative and has served on several community boards, including the San Francisco Interfaith Coalition.