New Archive:

March 2000 Issue, Volume 1

The Other Intermarriage

By Deborah Biskin Levine

For the better part of the past two years, I've been writing a book profiling some of the biggest movers and shakers in many American Jewish communities. The experience has made me feel optimistic about the state of Jewish life because these individuals, the folks who really get things accomplished, are bridge builders. They value and respect the contributions of "un-like minded" Jews and are able to transcend their theological differences to work for the betterment of the Jewish people. Perhaps naively, I was beginning to believe that we were headed toward genuine pluralism.

Then came my daughter Rachel's engagement. She was raised in a traditional Conservative home (yes, there is such a thing), observing Shabbat, kashrut and all the holidays. She attended a Hebrew Day School until 8th grade (that's all there is in town) and then a public high school that was only about 5% Jewish. Though she had opportunities, Rachel never inter-dated and never seemed to veer from her path of serious adherence to Jewish practices.

The synagogue in which she grew up is traditional Conservative - no organ or electronic aron kodesh, high standards of kashruth and many members that observe Shabbat. It is also completely egalitarian, with most women wearing kippot and tallitot. At her Bat Mitzvah, Rachel read easily from the Torah and continued to do so throughout high school. She was a leader in the Conservative and Orthodox youth groups, and moved easily between the two environments. I was delighted that she could study, pray and socialize with different kinds of Jews.

I guess what I didn't realize if that our little Conservative world is probably the exception to the rule. Many Conservative synagogues do not adhere to the same standards. On a regular Shabbat morning (no Bar/Bat Mitzvah) about 125 people attend services at our shul. They are a smart bunch, with many capable of leading the davening and reading Torah. Many also walk home to eat Shabbat lunch at each other's homes. Most build sukkot, shake lulavim and etrogim, and wear sneakers on Yom Kippur. Others study Torah with the rabbi on a weekly basis and many "regulars" put on tefillin every morning and attend daily minyan. On Shabbat afternoons, a large group of Conservative Jews meets at the "Shabbos pond" at the end of our street, with their kids, kosher snacks and Frisbees. They discuss the Torah portion, the latest gossip at the day school and who will be driving car pool the following week. It's usual to hear kids calling their parents, abba and eema or to see little boys (and sometimes little girls) with their kippot flying as they are pumping on the swings.

Then came the time to send Rachel to college. She wanted to study physical therapy. Few places with the program she needed also had a solid Jewish campus life. After much research, she decided on Boston University. Her choice was clinched when she was awarded an academic scholarship. I could not have been more proud. On moving-in day Rachel, skipped right over to Hillel with no prodding from me. At that moment I felt that every penny I had spent on Day School tuition, every time I had schlepped her to youth group conventions and every Sunday I had spent sitting through endless numbers of Israeli dance performances had paid off. She found a home away from home in college, and in a Jewish place.

On her first Friday night in Boston, Rachel went to services. After the davening and dinner, most of the Conservative kids headed off to parties, movies or bars, while the Orthodox kids (and some Conservative defectors) hung around and played backgammon and shmoozed. From the beginning, it was clear that these Modern Orthodox kids were going to be Rachel's chevra. Labels didn't matter. She just wanted a group of friends to eat with at Shalom Hunan's , to sing z'mirot with on Shabbat and to bake hamantashen with on Purim.

It hasn't all been perfect or easy. In general, she was not impressed by her peers' level of Jewish education. Their Hebrew skills were sketchy and she felt that some of their beliefs were rooted in superstition and ignorance. She was grateful for her own background acquired at one of the few remaining Solomon Schecter schools that has a 50/50 split between Judaic and General Studies and actually thanked me. At times, some of the kids appeared intolerant, and for that reason there were occasions that Rachel felt reluctant to say that she had grown up in a Conservative environment. She found many of the yeshiva girls cliquish and parochial and yet, by in large, these were the kids who kept the fires of Shabbat and holidays burning.

Then Eric entered the scene. A handsome upperclassman who caught sight of Rachel at Shabbat dinner during the first months of school - and has been in the picture ever since. He's a Modern Orthodox young man from the Lower East Side of Manhattan. When he visits Albany with Rachel he looks pretty uncomfortable in our shul. But, he davens, he listens and he is respectful. We know that Conservative Judaism isn't for him, but he is willing to go with the flow because he's with Rachel's family. Recently, at her cousin's Bat Mitzvah, he wore a pink and green and white flowered kippah (replacing his usual black) because Rachel's grandmother had made them for all the relatives and he didn't want to offend anyone.

On June 4th of 2000, Rachel and Eric will be married at our local Orthodox synagogue. Why there? Well, some of our guests won't eat at our synagogue - not because they've checked into the standards of kashruth, but because it has the "Conservative" label affixed to it. That stings. The local Orthodox rabbi has been quite gracious in allowing them to be married at his synagogue. He called me on the phone several times to tell me that he didn't want to do anything that would offend me. Although he said it would "be okay for men and women to sit together during the ceremony," which would please me, it's not what Rachel and Eric want. I told him to direct all religious questions to them. After all it is their wedding-and they need to learn to express their Judaism in their own way - as a new family unit.

As closed minded as some folks of the Orthodox persuasion have been - a few of my Conservative friends have been equally insensitive. I told one woman that Rachel was marrying a young man from the Lower East Side. She replied, "Is he Asian?" "No," I said, "he's Jewish. In fact he's Orthodox," to which she replied, "Well, at least he's not a goy." Another "friend" told me to view the proceedings at the wedding as an "anthropological experience." Imagine seeing the wedding of your beloved child not as a joyous occasion - but as a sociological phenomenon. It's as if this woman was saying that Orthodoxy is so peculiar and so strange that it's something you might only witness under glass in a museum.

Perhaps it comes down to this. Do people really need or want their children to be clones of themselves? Do they balk if their kids wind up a little to the "right" or a little to the "left" of them? A good friend told me I shouldn't be surprised at Rachel's choices because "successful Conservative parents end up with Orthodox children." But, would the converse be true? I don't think so. If Rachel chose to continue reading Torah and wearing a kippah instead of a hat - would I then be a failure? Others have said to me, "You're writing the checks for this party, so you can call the shots." And I suppose I could. But I've raised her to be serious about her Judaism-to care and feel passionately about it - and she does. Should I squelch her feelings because she thinks about certain things differently than I do? I'm proud that is concerned about what kind of Jewish music will be played, who the rabbi will be and what kind of benchers will be on the table. I'm happy that she knows what a bencher is.

The other day, Rabbi Avi Weiss told me that the definition of a Jew is someone who has Jewish grandchildren. I guess by his definition, (G-d willing) Rachel and Eric will make me a Jew - and for that, I am immensely grateful. The rest is commentary.

Deborah Biskin Levine is a writer living in Albany, New York