Our identity as Jews living in America is influenced by many factors - cultural, historical, communal, environmental - which have left their mark and their legacy for us today. One particular element of Jewish identity, often passed down through the generations by parents to their children, through their words and actions, is an existential awareness. This is an awareness of life when viewed in sum, a singular existence comprised of beliefs, relationships, and deeds. This awareness is the backdrop for any thoughts of destiny and purpose I can have, any confidence in my origins and ability. Children raised with an awareness of this dimension of themselves can benefit from the autonomy it provides when cultivated to maturity. Communities of families espousing this awareness can thrive materially and spiritually, as they work together in developing a group identity which elevates and enhances the individual members alongside the members of other groups. I might say that this element of Jewish identity - a timeless intimation that there’s a “big picture” - is tied to the treasured notion, equally timeless, that there’s one really real reality that includes all else - all of us along with it - and that’s the reality we should be looking for. No settling for the icon or the image. The real thing.
This existential awareness, which we inherit and pass on, is not determinative - it doesn't directly tell us who we are. The awareness of my life from the perspectives of observer, planner, and doer, simply opens the door to seeing my life this way. Over thousands of years, Jews and other Israelites have considered their lives’ purposes and meanings in a kaleidoscope of different ways. Sometimes we have considered our lives as existentially secure, guided by a relationship with reality that precluded crimes against us so long as we committed no crimes against others. Other times we have considered our lives as existentially threatened, open to violation, abuse, and destruction, oppressed and disadvantaged through no product of our own doing. As American Jews living in the fabled “land of choices,” we are afforded the opportunity to choose the purposes and meanings with which we build our Jewish identities from quite a range of options. Knowing that there is indeed a foundation, I can build the foundation of my life on premises of security and trust, or premises of threat and mistrust - among many others.
The word “intermarried” is often used to describe the marriage of someone who identifies as a Jew and someone who does not, and to the family which they start together. These individuals, and their children, are included or excluded to differing degrees by members of Jewish communities, often due in part to the existential premises of those who either welcome or reject. To some of us, the choice of someone who identifies as a Jew to start a family with someone who does not identify as a Jew is seen through the prism of existential security: my own Jewish identity is unaffected by anyone’s choices and actions but my own, and someone else’s choice in life partner in no way affects the amount of basic compassion and respect either should be shown as human beings. To others of us, such a choice is seen through the prism of existential threat: my own Jewish identity is affected by others’ choices and actions, and someone else’s choice in life partner changes the amount of basic compassion and respect I should show them. Once we are aware of the choice we can make in the prism through which we view life, the choice is ours to make.
Jewish law is often cited as justification for the rejection and exclusion of “intermarried” families by members of Jewish communities. Yet is there really a basis in Jewish law for such action, or are such justifications the result of imaginative or ideological co-options of Jewish law? While formally proscribing the union, marital and/or sexual, of someone born to a Jewish mother and someone who was not, the rabbis of the Mishnaic and Talmudic eras acknowledged such families and accepted them into the greater Jewish community, under the protection of the law - and certainly beloved by God - like everyone else. Maimonides’ comprehensive guide to Jewish law addresses the non-Jewish spouses of Jews in many legal scenarios and situations, taking their participation in the community of Jews who follow Jewish law (and certainly their humanity and dignity) as a given. The rabbis of the Talmud, and those who lived within their tradition, did not view the choice of someone who identifies as a Jew to marry someone who doesn’t, through the prism of existential threat; they were secure enough in their own relationship with reality to tolerate and sincerely respect the personal choices of other human beings. Trusting in the faithful direction of all things yet acknowledging that such trust is a choice, they coined the saying - “all is in the hands of Heaven, except for one’s awe of Heaven.”
My acceptance of an “intermarried” family probably stems from the sense of a “big picture” that my parents raised me with. I don’t have to make the same personal choices as someone else; I can accept another person as a human being and as a member of my community irregardless of his or her personal choices. In fact, I trust that such a union is, at some universal level, the will of God - reality at its best. It is an opportunity to learn about human beings’ lives and cultures, to share what we’ve learned about our own lives and culture, as we welcome them to the table. As American Jews, we have the freedom to choose - the choice of approach is ours to make.
