“Daddy, are you a Jew?” My husband had been asleep when my son Nate, almost 3, burst into the room last Sunday morning and asked him that doozy of a question. Luckily, Aaron has a sense of humor, and he started to laugh.
I don’t think Nate had heard the word “Jew” before I had brought it up in conversation a few minutes before. It wasn’t meant to be a setup. The night before, we had celebrated Shavuot with The Kitchen, the shul we belong to in San Francisco. There was an early program for young kids where we danced, sang “David Melech Yisrael” and recited from the Book of Ruth in a call and response format (Leader: “Your people will be…” Kids: “My people!” Leader: “And your God…” Kids: “My God!”)
The next morning, while his father slept in, Nate wanted me to repeat the song and the phrases over and over as we sat together in the living room. At one point, I mentioned casually that Ruth had said those words, and that she had become a Jew. “You’re a Jew,” I said. “And I’m a Jew.”
“Is Daddy a Jew?” Nate asked. “You’ll have to ask him that,” I told him.
I think it’s clear by now that Daddy is, indeed, not a Jew. But he is, as he describes himself, “a willing participant” who hums tunes from Kabbalat Shabbat during the week and attends services more often than the vast majority of Jews I know. Aaron and I have been together for a dozen years, and during that time we’ve gone through a process of negotiating how we would be part of Jewish life. That process is ongoing, but it’s not a point of tension or stress; we’ve both found ways we can be comfortable and connect to the Jewish community in a manner that works for each of us. Though Aaron has no plans to convert, we are essentially a Jewish family. Frankly, I think we’ve got things figured out pretty well.
Which is why it was so funny how flustered we were by Nate’s question.
“I’m kind of a Jew,” Aaron said.
“Are you a Jew?” Nate asked again. “I’m kind of a Jew,” Aaron repeated. “Are you a Jew?” Nate asked. (Did I mention that toddlers love to repeat themselves?)
“He’s half a Jew,” I said, completely unhelpfully. “I’m half a Jew,” Nate said. “And Mommy’s half a Jew.”
The truth is that Nate is more of a Jew than any of us. Every day, he asks if it’s Shabbat. He’s a maniac for challah and bagels and grape juice and has nearly memorized the blessing over the Shabbat candles. Whenever we drive by the building that hosts our Shabbat services, he says, “I need to go to shul for a little bit.”
Neither Aaron nor I can believe we have a child like this. Though we have established Jewish customs in our home, we didn’t really give much thought to giving Nate a Jewish education, and we didn’t realize how enthusiastic he would become about Jewish holidays and celebrations. He doesn’t go to a Jewish preschool; he’s just joined us in the traditions we had been developing as a couple before he was born.
When I was pregnant, people would ask me whether we were going to raise our child Jewish. That question has never made much sense to me. You can’t “raise” a child to be something you aren’t. Your child will join your family and be whatever you are.
I knew one thing, though: I wanted Nate’s Jewish experiences to be in a family setting; I didn’t want to send him out to Jewish preschool or Hebrew school for a Jewish education that was out of step with what we were actually practicing in our home. He may go to religious school when he’s older, but if he does, it will be in a community that we are connected to as a family.
For all of Nate’s enthusiastic embrace of Jewish life, though, the words “Jew” or “Jewish” had never come up. As I said, he’s not yet 3. But it also strikes me that because Shabbat and holidays and challah are just what our family does, there’s not much of a need to fit it into a box called “Jewish.” Yes, Mommy is Jewish and Daddy is not, and that’s a little bit complicated. But at the same time, within the context of our family, it hardly matters. We are a family where Mom works at a Jewish newspaper, Dad is a huge fan of Philip Roth, and our kid lustily shouts “Shabbat Shalom” all through the day on Saturday. We’re just … us.
Drew Himmelstein is a writer at J. Reach her at [email protected].