Web Magazine

Printable Web Mag Version - InterfaithFamily.com Page 1 of 3

Home > > Printable Web Mag Version HOME

RESOURCE PAGES Web Magazine Hindu-Jewish Relationships CURRENT WEB MAGAZINE ISSUE Issue 188: July 25, 2006 FEATURED ARTICLES ARTICLE ARCHIVE Uniting of the Tribes: Our Hindu- CONNECTIONS IN YOUR AREA Jewish Wedding By Jason Jay and Alaka Ray JOIN THE DISCUSSION Who knew that a foodfight with yellow turmeric paste could turn in-laws into a family? IFF NETWORK Read More

ABOUT IFF Your Daughter Has Something to Tell You... PRESS ROOM By Jana Sikdar When an Indian girl dates a Jewish girl, it's STORE a test of tolerance for two modern families. Read More Seeds Search: By Reika Dutta Her Hindu family celebrated when her sister married a Jewish man, but suspicious stereotypes are creeping into their conversations.

ALSO IN THIS ISSUE Featured Partners/Funders/Links More Articles on Hindu-Jewish Relationships Walking Seven Circles By Tony Castleman

A Jewish man and his Hindu wife face the question of how to raise the children and decide two religions are better than Login one. Coming to Terms with My Son's Choices Login Name:

http://www.interfaithfamily.com/site/c.ekLSK5MLIrG/b.1711661/k.7AD9/Printable_Web... 7/27/2006 Printable Web Mag Version - InterfaithFamily.com Page 2 of 3

By Sallie Teitelbaum Castleman

Password:

Tony Castleman's mother struggles with her son's decision to do both.

Not Signed Up? Find Out More. My Jewish Son's Engagement to a Hindu Woman: Pluses and Minuses By Rifka Klein The cultural differences are strange, but the love and support are familiar. From Bollywood to the Sands of Jerusalem By Aimee Ginsburg

Nadira, a Jewish movie star in a country of a billion Hindus and Muslims, died in February at age 74. A Moment with... Ruth Prawler Jhabvala by Nonna Gorilovskaya

The Oscar-winning screenwriter of Howards End talks about her Indian husband and her childhood in prewar Germany. Shooting a Film and Repairing a Complicated Mother-Daughter Relationship: A Review of Shooting Water By Sneha Sastry

Can making a movie together fix the relationship between the daughter of a Jewish-Indian couple and her mother?

Columnist

Dear Wendy: Will My Intermarried Son's Children Be Jewish? By Wendy Weltman Palmer

A Hindu woman engaged to a Jewish man wonders what's the point of raising their children as Jews if the community won't accept them.

From Our Archives

Passage to India By Carol Kort

A Jewish woman's brother leaves Judaism--and his family-- behind for a life at an ashram in India.

InterfaithFamily.com | P.O. Box 9129, Newton, MA 02464 | 617 581 6843 | [email protected]

http://www.interfaithfamily.com/site/c.ekLSK5MLIrG/b.1711661/k.7AD9/Printable_Web... 7/27/2006 Page 1 of 3

Uniting of the Tribes: Our Hindu-Jewish Wedding By Jason Jay and Alaka Ray

Religion was the topic of the first conversation we ever had. At a James Bond-themed party, talking late into the night, Alaka learned of Jason's journey from Judaism to Buddhism and back again. Jason learned of Alaka's love for the Bhagavad Gita, and the common ground we shared in the teachings of Ramakrishna and Swami Vivekananda, who emphasized the harmony of all religions. At one point, enthralled by the dialogue and carried away by the moment, Jason said, "wouldn't it be crazy if we just got married tomorrow?" Alaka laughed (somewhat dismissively); little did she know the two of us would be enjoying both a Hindu wedding and a Jewish wedding three years later.

In the early stages, we did encounter some concerns from our parents, who were worried about the strains of a marriage with so many places to call home (Boston, Northern Italy, West Bengal, and Colorado). Working through their fears took time, patience, and some careful education of each other and our parents about the two cultures, as well as serious reflection on how we would build our life together. When faced with especially difficult challenges, we had a mantra to fall back on: "We love God, and our relationship brings us closer to God, so the universe will give us a helping hand."

And so it did. When we visited Alaka's parents in December of 2004, Jason asked Alaka's father for permission to marry her. Permission was happily granted, an engagement ring presented, and almost immediately the planning began. The wedding would take place in Kolkata one year later, and would follow the Bengali Hindu tradition, with all the ceremony, gifts, flowers, and family that would entail. It would be followed by a Jewish ceremony in Boston, attended by Alaka's parents and the members of Jason's family who could not make the long journey to India.

The first, and most important, theme in making our Hindu, Jewish, and Christian family comfortable through the process was encouraging participation. Jason's family arrived in Kolkata several days before the wedding, giving them time to explore the city, shop for Indian clothes, and connect to the new environment on their own terms. Jason's

http://www.interfaithfamily.com/site/apps/nl/content2.asp?c=ekLSK5MLIrG&b=297371&... 7/27/2006 Page 2 of 3

parents held a dinner for all the international guests at their hotel, allowing them to feel a sense of hosting and home. The festivities began the following day with a series of pre-wedding rituals and celebrations, each of which gave the American and Italian family and friends a chance to dive into what would otherwise have been a foreign affair. They blessed us and presented gifts in the ashirvaad ceremony, hand-fed us in the aiburo bhat (rice feeding ceremony), were decorated in henna at a mehendi party, and sang and danced at an open mic musical celebration called a sangeet. The next day held even more pre-wedding ceremonies, the biggest hit of which was the gaye holud, a turmeric ceremony-turned-food fight, in which all of our guests ended up smeared head to toe with yellow turmeric paste. We laughed and cried as we watched our two families intertwine, seeing any awkwardness dissolve with each meal they shared and each handful of turmeric paste they rubbed on each other's faces. By the time the wedding ceremony itself rolled around in the evening, the two families were already becoming one, miraculously crossing barriers of culture, religion, and even language.

Two days later, Jason's father spontaneously offered to host the wedding reception that Alaka's father had organized in his hometown of Durgapur. This unexpected gesture, which followed Bengali tradition, brought tears to Alaka's parents' eyes. It proved that Jason's family were no longer guests, but part of Alaka's family--our philosophy of participation had truly succeeded.

The second theme was to include Jewish elements throughout the Bengali celebrations. During the rituals on the wedding day, Jason wore his tallit (prayer shawl) over his Bengali clothes. This gave him a chance to talk about his own religion and practice with Alaka's family and let the Western guests know that both traditions were being honored. During the dance party after the ceremony, we played a CD of Jewish favorites; the Bengalis laughed hysterically as Jason, his father, and four Jewish friends sang a heartful rendition of "Siman Tov u Mazel Tov" (a joyous song of congratulations), and then participated gleefully as we were hoisted up onto two chairs for "Hava Nagila."

The third theme was to simply recognize and emphasize how many commonalities there are between the Hindu and Jewish rituals. In the Bengali pre-wedding rituals, the bride and groom each crush a clay cup under their heels, foreshadowing the wine glass we would break a month later. When Alaka joined Jason for the exchange of garlands, she circled him seven times, exactly as she would in the Jewish ceremony. When we exchanged garlands, it was under the shelter of Jason's prayer shawl, and we were married under a temporary, vine-adorned structure called a mandap--both spaces were reminiscent of a Jewish chuppah. Finally, the culmination of the Hindu ceremony had the two of us walking seven times around a sacrificial flame, again mirroring Jewish custom. These commonalities left everyone with a sense that both of our traditions had grown from the deepest soil of history.

By the time we came back to Boston for the Jewish ceremony, Alaka's parents already felt like part of the family. The Jewish ceremony, held at Upstairs on the Square in Cambridge, allowed them to meet more of Jason's uncles, aunts, and cousins. It gave Jason's family a chance to see us read our ketubah (Jewish wedding contract), be blessed by our rabbi, and exchange wedding rings. We also gave them the opportunity to enjoy the highlights of our Indian wedding through a DVD that Jason had composed.

Now that we are settling into life in Boston, we thank God every day for our families' openness and understanding. Our emphasis, as we grow our own family, will always be to celebrate both

http://www.interfaithfamily.com/site/apps/nl/content2.asp?c=ekLSK5MLIrG&b=297371&... 7/27/2006 Page 3 of 3

cultures and honor the spirituality of both our ancient religions. We feel privileged to have such rich traditions to draw upon for the rest of our lives together.

What do you think?

Jason Jay was born in Boulder, Colorado, and is now a doctoral student at the MIT Sloan School of Management. Alaka Ray grew up traveling back and forth between Kolkata, India and the United States, and is now a medical student at Harvard. They live in Boston's South End.

http://www.interfaithfamily.com/site/apps/nl/content2.asp?c=ekLSK5MLIrG&b=297371&... 7/27/2006 Page 1 of 3

Your Daughter Has Something to Tell You . . . By Jana Sikdar

My girlfriend and I each had very valid reasons for wanting to keep our relationship "private" as long as possible. Hannah had recently gotten out of a long relationship. I had never dated a woman.

It was a new relationship--why jinx it? We were second semester seniors in college--why rile everyone up? It was winter in New Haven--what was the point of casting the big bisexual signal up into the sky to let our nearest and dearest know that we'd gone gay for each other? Who would notice with all the sleet and snow anyhow?

Yet as springtime and graduation rolled around, Hannah and I found that the only people we hadn't told were our families. This was unfortunate. We love our crazy families--Hannah comes from a classic brand of Upper West Side, liberal, New York, Jewish crazy, and I hale from a not quite as classic, Westchester, hybrid-Hindu-Roman-Catholic clan of crazy. By not telling our families, we looked sneaky. And besides hemorrhoids, there is nothing more aggravating than a pair of sneaky bisexual lesbians.

Hannah had it easy. This is obviously an egregiously subjective viewpoint; however, contextually speaking it's true. Hannah and her sisters (I know, I know) grew up with their parents talking about a future when the girls and their husbands or "partners" could continue the family tradition of summering at The Cape. I am not trying to diminish Hannah's genuine anxieties, but really, it doesn't get much better than parents who seamlessly incorporate gender- neutral terminology into the discussions they have with their fourth grader.

Hannah's family's overwhelming level of tolerance and love for all choices could make even Mister Rogers look like a neo-con. My family looks good on paper. An interfaith, multicultural circus that gives the impression of such coherence and cult-like commitment that growing up, friends used to call us the Brown Brady Bunch. Did I really want to bring that beautiful illusion down? Nobody wants to be the one with

http://www.interfaithfamily.com/site/apps/nl/content2.asp?c=ekLSK5MLIrG&b=297390&... 7/27/2006 Page 2 of 3

the undercover bigoted parents.

I ended up telling my Italian mother about my new relationship in our kitchen; that way the surge of emotion would be immediately deflected into cooking. If she started preparing some sort of meat, it would mean she was launching an unsubtle campaign to turn me straight. She ended up running the ole' Fallen Roman Catholic Mother Gauntlet of Guilt play. There were sad eyes, tight- lipped smiles and passive aggressive outbursts where feelings of guilt and disappointment were projected in the name of every dead Italian relative, ever.

I had hoped to get to my dad before my mom but circumstance would have it that the old lady was quick. When I finally got the chance to descend into my dad's basement office, he had already been prepped with, "Your daughter has something she wants to tell you."

That line is officially the worst lead-in a child could ask for. The thought flashed through my mind to confess to a bevy of faux vices just to make the whole, "so I'm dating a Jewish girl" thing less dramatic. As I told my dad, I watched as my father slowly let go of the last shred of hope he had of seeing me ride off into the sunset with a rich, Indian prince. Yes I was dark, but my Yale education certainly offset my complexion. But now with Hannah, that dream was over.

After a few weeks everything settled down and life in the hybrid-Hindu household returned to its baseline level of abnormalcy. Hannah and I soon came to realize that no matter how educated, accepting or well-adjusted parents seem, they lose all logic when it comes to an anthropological clash of cultures.

During my first dinner with Hannah's family they ordered take-out. Across the table her father slowly and quietly explained to me what "kosher" means. He whispered to me as if he were helping me cheat on a Hebrew school quiz.

"This is why we are using plastic utensils for the food, because in the house we keep kosher," he concluded.

I wondered if he realized that when I said Westchester, I meant Westchester, New York (practically the second homeland), and not West Chester, Pennsylvania.

"Me and Jews," I wanted to tell him "like apples and honey!"

And my family is no better. When I relate the "kosher story" my mother hesitates and then tries her best not to make it sound as bad as I know it is going to be.

"Oh" she says with a level of forced offhandedness, "so they are really Jewish."

I roll my eyes as I think of at least four different family friends who are all, apparently, "really Jewish." My father now has a level of fascination that makes me question if he really has been living in this country for the last thirty-five years.

"Had they ever eaten mangos before?" he wants to know excitedly. "Or did you introduce her family to mangos?" I gently remind him that that Hannah is a Jew from the Upper West Side, not another planet.

http://www.interfaithfamily.com/site/apps/nl/content2.asp?c=ekLSK5MLIrG&b=297390&... 7/27/2006 Page 3 of 3

In terms of our Jewish-Hindu pairing, I tell my parents to take comfort that the tide of popular culture is in our favor.

"Look," I point out "these days anybody who is anybody eats challah and does yoga."

Now that Hannah and I have won over each other's families, we have far bigger problems to address--like finding jobs.

What do you think?

Jana Sikdar is a former humorist for the Yale Daily News. She is a “freelance writer” and is currently “shopping various projects” (which really means she is unemployed and living with her family in New York).

http://www.interfaithfamily.com/site/apps/nl/content2.asp?c=ekLSK5MLIrG&b=297390&... 7/27/2006 Page 1 of 3

Seeds By Reika Dutta

I didn't grow up hearing any remarks against someone's race or religious beliefs. Not from my family.

We are a Hindu Indian family. Although most of our relatives are in India, my parents, my sister and I, and a few aunts, uncles and cousins, reside in the New York area. My sister Meena and I were born here. All other relatives moved to America as adults. Preserving the Indian culture was important to them, but they welcomed the cultural diversity of this country. As a devout Hindu, my mother always boasted about how the Hindu faith accepted all religions. We even had paintings in the house of different religious figures: Jesus, Moses, and Buddha.

So when my sister became involved in an interfaith relationship, I didn't think it would be an issue.

Meena met David in college, a nice Jewish young man, pre-med like my sister. He was well liked by my parents, both of whom are physicians. Meena and David spent their college years frequently visiting my parents' home. And David's family liked Meena. Even I, the kid sister, spent time with his family. I remember a trip to the beach. Although David's family was Jewish, they were not Orthodox. We all got along very well. I thought it was fun to have them around my family--a delightful integration of culture and religion!

So when they decided to marry, we were all happy. It was a beautiful and fantastic wedding. There were two ceremonies. There was a rabbi and a Hindu priest. Meena wore a wedding gown, then a sari. A glass was broken, a conch shell sounded, they were lifted and carried in their seats, they were tied together with a cloth--all the rituals of both religions. I remember dancing at the reception with both sides of the family. And everybody was laughing.

That was ten years ago. Now Meena and David have careers, a home and two children--a girl with an Indian name and a boy with a Hebrew name. Over the years I see the families at holidays and social events. I always enjoy everyone's company. But I am not so involved in their lives.

I began writing this article on interfaith relationships with the notion that I would hear wonderful stories about more holidays and funny characters amongst the relatives. But after speaking to my family, I got a different perspective.

When I asked Meena how she feels being in a Hindu/Jewish marriage has affected her, I didn't get

http://www.interfaithfamily.com/site/apps/nl/content2.asp?c=ekLSK5MLIrG&b=297390&... 7/27/2006 Page 2 of 3

too many details. She said that the families were different. She then paused and commented how there are a lot of Jewish comedians who use humor to make light of more serious issues. I remember, vaguely, when Meena was getting married and sorting out the details of her wedding, her mentioning "Maybe things would have been easier if I was marrying an Indian man." That was when she was young and revealed more of herself to me. That was when I dismissed the comment. I was too caught up by the excitement of the wedding.

When I spoke with other members of my family, I found they wished Meena had married an Indian man. They feel the problems that have arisen through the years between the families are from differences in the two cultures and religions. They think David is disrespectful toward his in- laws. He forgets polite gestures like offering refreshments when they visit. But when his friends from out of town visit, his hospitality is remarkable--food, drinks whatever they need. And David's family prefers that everyone, particularly the children, visit them. However, my family does not think their house is a good environment for two small children. It is an unkempt household with too many pets. Any they never have any healthy food.

My family equates these traits with being Jewish. I think about my family's circle of close friends, but I don't recall anybody Jewish.

I have a friend, Sonia, who is the best host at parties. However, around friends she sees often, she gets comfortable and often slacks off on her manners. Sonia is Indian.

I try to think of Jewish stereotypes regarding junk food and pets. I can't think of any.

There seem to be less members of David's family at our get togethers. I never asked them any questions. I think I heard somewhere that Meena causes friction in David's family. I wonder if anyone thinks it's because she's Hindu/Indian.

I am still a part of family functions--holidays, birthdays, showers and weddings. And I am the life of the party, everybody's friend. I am an adult leading a separate life. I am a guest.

Families and marriages can be complicated. That's how I see Meena and David's situation. But I am not in it.

I didn't grow up hearing any remarks against someone's race or religious beliefs. Not from my family. We celebrated Christmas so that as children we wouldn't feel Santa Claus had left us out. I played the dreidel game with kids at school using M&Ms. I read the Bible because I liked the stories. And I went to pujas, the Hindu celebrations.

I think of the Jewish friends I care about whom I met as an adult. And I think of my family's comments, like unhealthy seeds trying to plant themselves now that I am grown.

What do you think?

Reika Dutta is a pseudonym for a woman who lives in New York City.

http://www.interfaithfamily.com/site/apps/nl/content2.asp?c=ekLSK5MLIrG&b=297390&... 7/27/2006 Page 3 of 3

http://www.interfaithfamily.com/site/apps/nl/content2.asp?c=ekLSK5MLIrG&b=297390&... 7/27/2006 Page 1 of 3

Walking Seven Circles By Tony Castleman

InterfaithFamily.com encourages interfaith families to make Jewish choices, including raising their children with one religious identity. We do not recommend that parents try to give their children two religious identities. From time to time we publish thoughtful articles by parents who take a different approach because we feel they may be helpful to our readers in coming to their own decisions.

My wife and I completed our wedding ceremony by walking seven circles together. Not the Jewish tradition of the bride's seven circles around the groom, but the Hindu tradition in which the bride and the groom lead each other seven times around a ritual fire, their silk scarves tied together (literally tying the knot). The ritual symbolizes seven promises the bride and groom make to each other for their life together.

Rajni and I were married in 2000 in Lucknow, India, where she was born and brought up, and where I had been living and working since 1994. A few months after the wedding, we moved to the U.S. We have each continued to practice our respective religions--Hinduism and Judaism-- with the same moderate degree of observance as before marriage, and we frequently join each other in our practice, especially for holidays. This has worked quite smoothly, and despite some animated debates about religion we have yet to experience any conflict or tensions stemming from the difference in our religions.

Even well before our son was born, the most common question we were asked by friends, relatives, and curious acquaintances was what we call "the children question." Though usually not worded so directly, the gist was essentially: "That's nice you both support each other to follow your faiths. But how do you plan to bring up your children?" My evasive, smart-aleck answer was: "With unconditional love and appreciation for the wonder in the world. How do you bring up your children?"

In fairness, though, the instinct behind the children question is correct. Continuing to practice two separate and quite different religions can be relatively problem-free as a couple. The challenges come with children. Parents are faced with minor and major choices about names, rites of passage, diet, ceremonies, etc., for which following one tradition can preclude following the other.

The most difficult situation we have faced to date was the decision whether or not to circumcise

http://www.interfaithfamily.com/site/apps/nl/content2.asp?c=ekLSK5MLIrG&b=297381&... 7/27/2006 Page 2 of 3

our son. I wanted to for cultural reasons, for health reasons, and at some level simply because I am circumcised. Rajni did not want to because she felt inflicting unnecessary pain on an infant was cruel, and because of the deep cultural taboo it carries in her community. In India Muslims are circumcised, Hindus are not, and many still remember periods of partisan violence when mobs of both religions stripped male victims to identify their religion and murdered them or let them go based on circumcision status.

After numerous discussions and debates, it became clear that Rajni felt even more strongly than I did about the issue, and we decided not to circumcise. The process of deciding was difficult, but once we decided, respect for each other's views helped us support each other in dealing with the subsequent reactions from family members. And despite joking warnings from friends, our son's intact foreskin did not disqualify him from entering Jewish preschool.

The circumcision experience has been the exception; generally it has been feasible and quite satisfying to include both traditions in our son's upbringing. It was important to Rajni for him to have a Hindi name, and it was important to me to follow the Jewish tradition of naming after a deceased relative. He has a Hindi first name and a middle name after a favorite aunt, with a corresponding Hebrew name.

Rajni and I have been warned that two halves can sometimes add up to zero. That our son may end up confused and lacking any religious identity at all. But both religions are part of our family and we feel both should be a part of his life. We realize at some stage he may gravitate to one religion and choose to identify with it alone. We also realize he may never have as "strong" a religious identity as he would growing up in a single religion home. But a strong religious identity is not necessarily the most important goal, and it feels more natural to follow the grain of our interfaith family. With intolerance--religious and otherwise--causing conflict in so many parts of the world, perhaps there's even a need for more of the internalized recognition and acceptance of multiple belief systems that growing up in a tolerant, two-religion home can bring.

We continue to believe, perhaps naively, that it is the respect for each other's beliefs and practices and the love that is present in the household that matter most. That these are the factors that will have the greatest influence on our son's happiness and whether he lives what both our religions teach is a good life: kindness to others, tolerance of those who are different, courage to follow what is right.

Several years before either of them were married, Rajni's older brother explained to her why he planned to have an arranged marriage with a woman belonging to his religion and caste. "There are so many other challenges in life to tackle," he advised her, "one should keep one's home life as smooth and uncomplicated as possible." His sister took a different route. And while there is undoubtedly an important place for smoothness in one's life, sometimes it is the contrasts and incongruities that we learn the most from, that stimulate and stretch us to expand ourselves and our compassion, that deepen our lives.

Tony Castleman's mother wrote a companion piece about her reaction to her son's wedding and decision to raise his son in both religions. Read Coming to Terms with My Son's Choices.

What do you think?

http://www.interfaithfamily.com/site/apps/nl/content2.asp?c=ekLSK5MLIrG&b=297381&... 7/27/2006 Page 3 of 3

Tony Castleman is senior program officer in the Food and Nutrition Technical Assistance Project at the Academy for Educational Development, a non-profit organization in Washington, DC. He provides technical assistance to governments and NGOs to improve policies and programs addressing hunger and malnutrition in Africa and Asia. Tony is also a Ph.D. candidate studying development economics at George Washington University.

http://www.interfaithfamily.com/site/apps/nl/content2.asp?c=ekLSK5MLIrG&b=297381&... 7/27/2006 Page 1 of 3

Coming to Terms with My Son's Choices By Sallie Teitelbaum Castleman

At age twenty-three, with a degree in Public Policy, much study of Third World Economics, and a keen interest in overseas development, my son Tony went off to start an NGO in India. Five and a half years into the project, Tony telephoned to tell me he was getting married. He immediately proceeded to tell me how opposed to the marriage her family was: Tony was not an Indian, was not Hindu and was not a Brahmin from the Hills, as was Rajni's family.

It soon became clear to me that these were two mature people who had spent a lot of time thinking about an intercultural and interfaith marriage. They were both almost thirty and each had had prior marriage opportunities. I believed that my son, who was a deep thinker and a rational person, even in matters of the heart, would choose wisely.

He and Rajni had worked closely together for over four years. They had observed each other's humanity, strengths, vulnerabilities, and idiosyncrasies.

What of the ramifications of the interfaith part? Tony had clearly acclimated to Hindu culture and was several years into understanding at least the fundamentals (as well as the daily and annual observances) of Hinduism. He explained that Rajni had heard all the stories of our holidays and would love our family observances. They each had great respect for the other's beliefs. He was not sure they would choose to have children, but in case they did, they would each continue to observe and believe as before. Any children would be taught both sets of beliefs and practices.

I skip ahead to the wedding, which was to be in India. Rajni was having her family's pundit (religious leader) and Tony was to get his own pundit. I asked if Larry Kushner, our family's rabbi, could act as his pundit, and Tony chuckled and said it would be like Rajni's pundit running Friday night services! Beyond the question of the pundit, my suggestion to Tony was to find out all that might be expected of us, in terms of ritual, dress, participation. My feeling was that we should participate fully, not be tourists, at Tony's wedding. Then I thought, "Oh my gosh, is this like saying 'It's OK, get married in the church'"?

The night before a wedding, each of the couple has a puja or traditional prayer service officiated by her/his pundit. These pujas are pre-wedding purification ceremonies for the bride and groom

http://www.interfaithfamily.com/site/apps/nl/content2.asp?c=ekLSK5MLIrG&b=297372&... 7/27/2006 Page 2 of 3

that also serve as a way for family and friends to wish them well for their married life. Tony's was held at his office and was a joyous event, attended by the several family members and one American friend who were able to make the trip, several coworkers and other friends Tony had made, as well as my close college friend Jaya, who lives in Delhi and knew Tony.

The wedding itself was 100 percent Hindu. Not one word of Hebrew. Not one reference to anything Jewish. That is, except the Priestly Blessing this parent bestowed on the bride and groom, which I muttered very quietly. This bothered me very much--I think most of all because it did not seem to faze Tony.

Today, Tony and Rajni reside in Maryland; Tony works for a nonprofit based in Washington, DC, that does development work overseas, and he travels to East Africa and India. Rajni, who had never been out of India and had not aspired to become Western, has adjusted to life in America. They have one son, Sagar, who is two and a half.

Rajni has a small mandir (shrine) in the house, at which she sits and does her daily worship. They observe Hindu religious and Indian cultural holidays. They observe Jewish holidays, as well. Tony continues the observances he always has and remains strongly identified as a Jew. Rajni's practice is daily. Tony's is more holiday-oriented. Obviously Sagar notices everything.

Just as Jews feel very strongly about circumcision as a symbol of what our people have endured (as well as a symbol of Abraham's covenant with God), so Hindus feel non-circumcision is a symbol of what Hindus have suffered--forced circumcision at the hands of the Muslims. Although Tony is in favor of circumcision, in part because of the religious feelings he has related to a bris, Sagar was not circumcised.

At first this bothered me enormously, more than the wedding and all else. For me a bris is about the most fundamental agreement we have with God; for me circumcision would be nonnegotiable. Gradually, however, I have come to accept that this is not my life, and not the most important issue. I do honestly believe my son has chosen wisely. He and Rajni have an enormous amount of love and respect for one another and their natures are extremely well matched. They are an unusual couple and I believe they were destined to find one another. And they are amazing parents.

My mother, aleha ha-shalom (may she rest in peace), would say, "They should just all be healthy."

Sallie Teitelbaum Castleman's son Tony wrote a companion piece about his and his wife's choice to raise their son in both religions. Read Walking Seven Circles.

What do you think?

Sallie Teitelbaum Castleman has worked in the computer and transportation fields, and on issues of world hunger and poverty. Recently, along with two colleagues, she established Election Defense Alliance, a national coordinating body for the hundred-plus grassroots election integrity organizations throughout the country, working to rid the country of

http://www.interfaithfamily.com/site/apps/nl/content2.asp?c=ekLSK5MLIrG&b=297372&... 7/27/2006 Page 3 of 3

corruptible electronic equipment used in our elections. She keeps a kosher house and considers herself a moderately observant Jew.

http://www.interfaithfamily.com/site/apps/nl/content2.asp?c=ekLSK5MLIrG&b=297372&... 7/27/2006 Page 1 of 2

My Jewish Son's Engagement to a Hindu Woman: Pluses and Minuses By Rifka Klein

On the plus side: The happiness of my son.

On the plus side: The person he has chosen. She's a delight--warm, intelligent, accomplished and beautiful. I like her very much, she makes him happy, and we will enjoy having her part of our family.

On the plus side: Her family. They are wonderful people--down to earth, kind, soulful, considerate. I feel very comfortable with them. In fact, I don't know if I could have felt as comfortable with any other family, Jewish or not.

On the negative side: The sense of loss. This I would feel no matter whom he married. We'll no longer have the same close relationship we've enjoyed. He's moving on and will be creating his own family now. I'll always be his mother, but he'll have new priorities. Interestingly, her family is feeling the same sense of loss, and we share that when we are together.

On the negative side: Some of the cultural/religious differences feel alien. I felt a little uncomfortable with the Hindu gods displayed at the Hindu engagement ceremony. I will probably feel somewhat overwhelmed by the large number of guests they will have at the wedding. Due to this large number of guests, the rehearsal dinner given by my ex-husband and myself will be far more expensive than I had wanted.

On the plus side: Her family's friends. They have a close-knit circle of friends comprised of other families who moved from India, who serve as their extended family. I liked all the ones I have met so far--a group of lovely people.

On the plus side: Being challenged to adapt to a new culture feels like a good thing. I'm stretching in a positive way.

On the plus side: Seeing my son grow and mature. Glimpsing his maturity as he spoke of making financial plans to provide for a family moved me.

On the plus side: They decided to have their future kids bar/bat mitzvahed. This came as a huge relief to me.

http://www.interfaithfamily.com/site/apps/nl/content2.asp?c=ekLSK5MLIrG&b=297385&... 7/27/2006 Page 2 of 2

All in all, I consider myself a very lucky woman.

What do you think?

Rifka Klein is a pseudonym.

http://www.interfaithfamily.com/site/apps/nl/content2.asp?c=ekLSK5MLIrG&b=297385&... 7/27/2006 Page 1 of 4

From Bollywood to the Sands of Jerusalem By Aimee Ginsburg

Reprinted with permission of The Jerusalem Report. Visit www.jrep.com. © The Jerusalem Report

April 17, 2006

The death of Nadira, the great Indian movie star, marks the end of an era rich with Jewish actors. But the Jews of Mumbai are mourning more than her loss.

Reading about the life of Nadira, who died in Mumbai on February 8 at age 74, it is hard to keep in mind that it all happened in India and not Hollywood. The colorful stories about her are reminiscent of the American cinema queens of the late 40s and 50s; she was famous, among other things, for the way she arched her eyebrows, or, later, for her one too many drinks, alone in her modest apartment. And she was admired always for being an independent thinker, although this was arguably either a compliment or a polite euphemism. With her death, India lost its last great Jewish movie star.

Indeed, the fact of her Jewishness was mentioned in every one of her many obituaries. This constant reminder might itself arch a few eyebrows, were Mumbai (Bombay) not known for its love of its tiny Jewish population of 5,000. Whereas in Hollywood, a star's religion, particularly her Jewishness, would likely not appear in the lead paragraph of her bio, in India, the statement pinpoints Jewishness as part of her identity.

Nadira was born Farhat (Florence) Ezikiel in 1932 into the prosperous, cultured and relatively Westernized community of Baghdadi Jewish immigrants to India. Discovered in her late teens, she was cast, to the great reluctance of her mother, in 1952 in the lead role in Aan, a Bollywood classic about a simple man winning over a haughty princess, opposite the then-reigning melodrama king, the great Dilip Kumar (né Muhammad Yusuf Khan, a Muslim from Afghanistan). It is said that while she was selected for her glowing skin, sharp features and European looks, she proved more than an intriguing beauty--she had a commanding presence on screen as well.

The movie's success and her prowess in front of the cameras made her a star overnight, and the leading roles kept coming. In 1955, she starred in Shree 420 opposite the legendary Raj Kapoor. "Nadira's lacquered, diamond-studded character comes across as a beacon of danger, with her eyes flashing fire and brimstone," wrote one enchanted critic at the time.

http://www.interfaithfamily.com/site/apps/nl/content2.asp?c=ekLSK5MLIrG&b=297399&... 7/27/2006 Page 2 of 4

In an obituary, a Bollywood reporter recalled: "Her smoking . . . with a cigarette holder became a fashion statement, although she maintained that she never smoked in real life." One of her songs in the film, "Mud Mud Ke Na Dekh" (Don't Look Back), remained a hit for decades. Nadira lore has it that her dress for this song was stitched so tight she couldn't sit down. But "the agony was worth it," she told an interviewer years later. "Even today, at the racetrack, people sing the song to me when they see me."

After a while, she was cast not only as a leading lady but as a vamp and a villain, in roles that needed someone who could play a determined character, "her own woman." Her friends say she didn't mind, that she was proud of her ability to play these parts. "She had good looks," Kumar has said, "but it wasn't about that. She had crystal-clear thoughts. She was unusually present. She was always ahead of her times."

Bollywood, like Hollywood, has always been filled with a disproportionately high number of Jews. Even in the golden days of the Mumbai Jewish community, in the few decades before 1947, when India gained independence and most Jews immigrated to Israel, it numbered only around 30,000. Jonathan Samuel Solomon, whose grandfather ran the Bombay Film Lab, a leading movie production studio, explained the Jewish prominence to an online Bollywood film magazine: "Before India's independence, in the '30s and in the '40s, it was harder to cast Hindu and Muslim girls in films. Their homes tended to be very traditional, and this was not seen as a respectable occupation for a woman. The Jewish girls grew up in more liberal, Westernized households; they were educated, intelligent, and with fairer skin and sharper features. The producers and directors really liked the Jewish girls."

One of the many to benefit from these preferences was Firoza Begum, born Susan Solomon, who was hugely popular in the 1920s and '30s. Another was Ruby Meyers, known as Sulochana, a half-Ashkenazi, half-Indian Jew born in 1907. A silent movie star in the '30s, one of her most notable films was Wild Cat of Bombay (1936), in which she played eight different roles. In 1975, she acted alongside Nadira in Julie, for which Nadira picked up the Filmfare best supporting actress award, Bollywood's equivalent of the Oscar. The long list of Jewish stars also included Pramila, the first Miss India; Romala (Rachel Hayam Cohen); and Aaron Joshua, a prizefighter- turned-actor.

The Jewish presence could be felt elsewhere in the business as well: Parlaying her acting success into creative power, Ruby Meyers founded her own movie studio in the mid-'30s, Rubi Pics. And the screenplay for the first Indian full-length talkie, Aam Ara ("Light of the World") in 1931, a story of two rival queens, a prince and a peasant boy, was written by Joseph David. "After watching the premiere," wrote his granddaughter Joanna Ezikiel, "he would have gone home to a kosher meal." And of course there was the Calcutta-born Ezra Mir, known as Edwin Myers, the first chief of the government's India Film Division, who produced and directed more than 300 documentaries and short films.

Nadira was the last in this line, and the most exalted. She was among the busiest actors of her time, with all the trappings of a movie star--the cars (she was one of the first in Bollywood to own a Rolls Royce), the jewels and the glamour. "Even as she got older and played mostly character roles," one film critic wrote in an obituary, "she played them with a difference. She added a rare dignity and spirit to the roles of mother, aunt or any older woman."

http://www.interfaithfamily.com/site/apps/nl/content2.asp?c=ekLSK5MLIrG&b=297399&... 7/27/2006 Page 3 of 4

Her career spanned almost 50 years, with roles in more than 60 movies and television series, including a part, her last on TV, in a 2002 episode of the horror series Shh... Koi Hai ("Someone Is There..."). In 1999 she had a role in Ismail Merchant's Cotton Mary, which explored British and Anglo-Indian cultural identities; and in 2000 she made her final film appearance, in Josh, an Indian version of West Side Story.

In 1997's Tamanna, she played an aging movie star pining for her lost glory--a taste, perhaps, of Nadira's own reality later in life, which saw the once-formidable woman mostly alone, and by some accounts, lonely. She had two former husbands: Her first marriage, to Makel Naqshab, a poet of the Urdu language of the Muslims of northern India and Pakistan, ended unhappily; her second, to a man described in Bollywood gossip columns as only "out to get her money," ended after one week. Nadira's two brothers had emigrated long ago, one to the United States and one to Israel, and, as a Jewish neighbor told The Jerusalem Report, "they never came up."

Some of her Bollywood friends would drop by to visit Nadira; some came to use her excellent and well-maintained library, filled with books about Shakespeare, Swami Vivekananda, Judaism and Jewish philosophy, and world history. It was said she loved music and discussing current events. And the aging star was a favorite of the neighborhood kids--on her birthday, December 5, shortly before she was hospitalized, they went round to her house where they were treated to cake and biryani (spicy yellow rice pilaf).

"She was lonely, but it was her own making," says Solomon Sopher, head of the Iraqi Jewish community in India and chairman of the Sassoon Trust, which oversees the synagogues, libraries and the Sassoon Jewish day school in Mumbai. In the last few years, Sopher arranged to have special Iraqi Jewish food sent to Nadira every Shabbat, and this, he recalls, delighted her. "She was proud to be Jewish, she always observed the High Holy Days, came to synagogue and cared about Shabbat," he says. "She knew more about Judaism than most of our so-called leaders." Nadira left her Judaica and carpet collections to the Sassoon Synagogue.

But the Jewish community's long and endearing relationship with Nadira took a strange turn at the end of her life. She intended to be cremated, as is the custom of the Hindu majority in India, and when she revealed this to Sopher, he was adamant that she choose a Jewish burial instead. "I told her that she would have no place with us in olam haba [the world to come]," he says. "I begged her. She said that cremation seemed more tidy, more neat, but I did not stop until I seemed to have changed her mind." But soon after their last conversation, Nadira entered the hospital and lost consciousness. When she passed away, from complications arising from meningitis and a liver disorder, the cremation order was still in her will. "She even specified in the will not to be cremated on Shabbat," Sopher maintains, "and that her ashes were to be spread in the sands of Jerusalem." And although he could never agree with cremation, Sopher changed course. "The rabbis say this is not allowed, they are not in agreement with me, but I am trying to find a way to honor her wishes, somehow."

Her friends from the movie world, many of whom arrived for the cremation ceremony, spoke of her admiringly, lovingly, eulogizing her independent mind and her tendency to be ahead of her times. They did not seem aware that the cremation they had just witnessed had left the Jewish community shocked, even heartbroken. "I could not even do the ashkava ritual for her, since she was not buried," laments Sopher, who considered Nadira a beloved friend. "I said a few psalms, there was nothing else I could do. It is hard to describe how we felt. To describe this pain. The

http://www.interfaithfamily.com/site/apps/nl/content2.asp?c=ekLSK5MLIrG&b=297399&... 7/27/2006 Page 4 of 4

saddest thing about Nadira's life was her death."

What do you think?

Aimee Ginsburg, award winning columnist, has been living in India for a decade and is currently the India correspondant for Yedioth Achronoth, Israel's largest daily. She can be contacted at [email protected].

http://www.interfaithfamily.com/site/apps/nl/content2.asp?c=ekLSK5MLIrG&b=297399&... 7/27/2006 Page 1 of 3

A Moment With . . . Ruth Prawer Jhabvala By Nonna Gorilovskaya

Reprinted with permission of Moment Magazine. Visit www.momentmag.com.

Ruth Prawer Jhabvala won the Booker Prize, Britain's highest literary honor, in 1975 for her novel Heat and Dust. A German Jew whose family fled the Nazis, she grew up in London and moved to New Delhi with her husband, the Parsi architect Cyrus S. H. Jhabvala. India was the author's home for over two decades and the setting of her many works, including Heat and Dust. Jhabvala's collaboration as a screenwriter with producer Ismail Merchant and director James Ivory earned her two Oscars for A Room with a View (1985) and Howards End (1992). Her latest work, My Nine Lives (2005), a collection of short stories, has been warmly received by critics and called "the most autobiographical of her works." Jhabvala, who turned 79 this year, spoke to Moment's Nonna Gorilovskaya from her New York City home.

What does being Jewish mean to you? How has it shaped your work? Well, to tell you the truth, I never think of it. I mean I am Jewish and that's it. I really don't know. I mean whatever has gone into my work is also my Jewishness. Of course, mixed in with a whole lot of things because I've moved around a lot. But there's absolutely no question, I never have to think of it. If somebody asks me what are you, I know what I am. That's it.

So when somebody asks you what you are, what do you say? I say I'm Jewish. That's the only certainty I have.

What do you remember most about Germany and fleeing it? What I most remember is not wanting to remember it.

What was it like growing up as a Jewish teenager from Germany in London during World War II and afterwards? Well, you know, once you left your own background, your own community and your own family--which was left behind, it was only us in England--you'd really lost any kind of social basis of your life. And even though, you may still go to a synagogue-- my mother still went to a synagogue on High Holidays--it did not mean that much. It was not her community at all. So being Jewish wasn't very much any more for us. You've lost your community, that's it. And you came much more into English life. We went to university, my brother and I. We studied

http://www.interfaithfamily.com/site/apps/nl/content2.asp?c=ekLSK5MLIrG&b=297403&... 7/27/2006 Page 2 of 3

literature. We were integrated into a sort of English intellectual life.

In My Nine Lives, a lot of your characters are secular Jews. Was your family secular? Oh yes. Actually, my grandfather was a cantor of a big Jewish synagogue in Cologne, but he was a very secular character at the same time. He used to have a lot of debates with Christian clergymen. He was close to the mayor of Cologne at that time, [Konrad] Adenauer, who became the chancellor. He was a man of the world, but he was a Jewish cleric also. Well, there is a cosmopolitan background and a very Jewish background, up to 1933. After then, I suppose everything must have changed. I don't know; I was too young.

In My Nine Lives, is there a life that is closest to your own? No, no, none of them are all that close. All of them are a bit close, none of them are very close.

What was it like living as a Jew in India? Or did you think of yourself more as a foreigner? In India, nobody really knew what a Jew was. The question just never came up at all. They did not even know what it was. And there were so many religions, it was just one more. I remember some Americans came and they asked us, "Oh, is there anti-Semitism in India?" There just couldn't have been.

A lot of Jews are intermarried, but few are married to Parsis. If you had to generalize, are there any similarities between the two groups? Oh, absolutely. Parsis are known as the "Jews of India." First of all, they are not really quite Indian, they are originally from Iran. They still look different, they live differently. They look Jewish actually. They often take me for a Parsi. It's the closest thing that you can get, I think. They have the same sense of humor also, but then many Indians have, not only Parsis.

You've divided your life between three continents. Which one feels most like home? Home is only where the people I want to be with are. And I only go to these three places: Delhi, where I have one daughter; England, where I have another daughter; and here in America, where I have a third daughter. So that's it.

What do you think?

Nonna Gorilovskaya is a freelance journalist and writing fellow at Moment Magazine in Washington, DC. She blogs at Nonnablog.

http://www.interfaithfamily.com/site/apps/nl/content2.asp?c=ekLSK5MLIrG&b=297403&... 7/27/2006 Page 3 of 3

http://www.interfaithfamily.com/site/apps/nl/content2.asp?c=ekLSK5MLIrG&b=297403&... 7/27/2006 Page 1 of 2

Shooting a Film and Repairing a Complicated Mother-Daughter Relationship: A Review of Shooting Water By Sneha Sastry

"Born into both Judaism and Hinduism, different religions were just different ways of understanding God," says Devyani Saltzman in Shooting Water.

Although this is not the main focus of Saltzman's memoir, to me, this was the book's most powerful sentence. As a Hindu woman soon to be married to a Jewish man, I found it exciting and to some extent a relief to hear our shared perspective--that different religions are just different ways of understanding God--stated by the adult daughter of a Hindu woman and Jewish man.

While Saltzman's interfaith upbringing did not seem to be a difficult issue for her, her relationship with her mother is another story. Forced at the tender age of eleven--in the midst of her parent's divorce--to choose which parent to live with, Saltzman chose her Jewish father. The aftermath of that decision and her evolving relationship with her wounded mother--the award-winning filmmaker Deepa Mehta--is detailed in this memoir.

The making of Mehta's recently released (in the U.S.) and controversial (in India) film Water, for which Devyani worked as a still photographer, serves as the backdrop for their story. Both women hoped that working together on the film would afford them an opportunity to repair their damaged relationship.

But Mehta ran into trouble while making her film. Water explores the lives of widows in India during colonial times and implies that religion was manipulated to justify economic benefits to the families of widows, enabling them to cast new widows out to survive on their own. Some Indian politicians perceived the film as an assault on religion and tradition, leading to waves of protests as the movie was being shot. Finally, a combination of protests, politics and financial issues shut down production of the movie in India and it was not until several years later that the film could begin shooting (under a different name) in Sri Lanka. The original actors had to be replaced, not because they lost interest, but because they were no longer the appropriate ages to play their parts.

As the book unfolds, you can see both Mehta and Saltzman fervently holding onto this movie as if the fate of the film will determine the fate of their relationship. And in some ways they were right. Working on this project together did bring them closer. They each seemed to have gained be a

http://www.interfaithfamily.com/site/apps/nl/content2.asp?c=ekLSK5MLIrG&b=297398&... 7/27/2006 Page 2 of 2

better understanding of the relationship and of each other. Some level of forgiveness did emerge, although some work still remains to be done.

But the author's weaving together of the two stories of making the film and repairing the mother- daughter relationship did not always succeed. Large sections of the book deal with Saltzman's anxiety over her job of shooting "stills" for the film, and these sections did not advance the story of her relationship with her mother. In addition she kept referring to how long "we" had to wait and how much "we" had to go through, yet it seemed that after the production was first shut down, she merely continued on with her own life until her mother called her and informed her that the shooting of the film in Sri Lanka would begin with a start date of when Devyani was done with her exams (almost a year later.)

One can hear about a movie being "controversial" and know that there were some "difficulties" in the making of it, but this book gave me a little glimpse of what can happen behind the scenes when people dedicate themselves to something in which they truly believe--whether it be a movie or, perhaps more important, the relationship between a mother and a daughter.

What do you think?

Sneha Sastry, an M.D. who began her residency in Psychiatry at Northwestern University Hospital in July, is engaged to a Jewish man.

http://www.interfaithfamily.com/site/apps/nl/content2.asp?c=ekLSK5MLIrG&b=297398&... 7/27/2006 Page 1 of 3

Dear Wendy: Will My Intermarried Son's Children Be Jewish? By Wendy Weltman Palmer

InterfaithFamily.com is pleased to offer this advice column for individuals encountering complicated interfaith situations. The column is written by Wendy Weltman Palmer, M.S.W., a licensed marriage and family therapist in private practice in Dallas, Texas. As a former director of Outreach and Synagogue Community for the Union of Reform Judaism, Ms. Palmer helped develop programs for interfaith couples and families throughout the southwest. Ms. Palmer's experience as a partner in an interfaith marriage adds a special dimension to the consultation.

Readers can contact Wendy at [email protected] with questions about interfaith issues. Of course, Wendy will not be able to respond to every question, but she will try to respond to as many as she can and sometimes may combine questions on similar topics and address them in one article. She will use pseudonyms rather than real names to protect people's privacy.

Dear Wendy,

My son is about to get engaged to a woman who comes from a Hindu background. They are discussing what religion to raise their children in, and she said to him that since she isn't Jewish, their children won't be considered Jewish by the Jewish community, so why bother raising them as Jews? I was so upset to hear that, since the Reform and Reconstructionist movements count children Jewish who have a Jewish parent--father or mother--and who is raised as a Jew. What can I do to assure them that won't be an issue? Or will it be?

Prospective Mother-in-Law

Dear Prospective Mother-in-law,

You are correct that Reform Jews and Reconstructionist Jews have embraced a concept known as patrilineal descent. Under traditional Jewish law, a Jew is one who is born to a Jewish mother (matrilineal descent), or who has converted to Judaism. In 1983, the Reform movement broke with Orthodox and Conservative Judaism and declared that any child born of one Jewish parent of either gender, and raised as a Jew, was to be considered a Jew. Although initially quite controversial, this ruling has settled into accepted practice in all Reform Jewish congregations and

http://www.interfaithfamily.com/site/apps/nl/content2.asp?c=ekLSK5MLIrG&b=297381&... 7/27/2006 Page 2 of 3

also in the Reconstructionist community. In addition, the Secular Humanists consider anyone Jewish who wishes to be considered Jewish, and in addition they offer secular conversions.

Your prospective daughter-in-law's skepticism and sense of resignation raises some questions in my mind. First of all, it is possible that she is simply unaware of the concept of patrilineal descent. Depending on the scope of Judaism she has been exposed to, she may only be familiar with traditional Jewish law. Her primary educational source of Judaism--that is to say, your son--may not know about patrilineal descent either! I am often surprised at how many Jews are not aware of this policy.

I also wonder, though, about your prospective daughter-in-law's experience thus far in the Jewish community. Has she been treated as an outsider? Could this be a source of her "why bother" attitude? The fact that she anticipates that her children would be rejected as Jews makes me wonder how accepted she herself has felt so far in the Jewish community.

Where you can help is to direct this couple to a rabbi pronto. They need to know what their options are. A Reform or Reconstructionist or Secular Humanist rabbi can explain what life could look like for this couple if they choose to associate with his or her congregation. These rabbis will be able to point to couples in the congregation comprised of a Jewish father and non-Jewish mother who are being supported in their efforts to raise Jewish children--and whose children are fully accepted by the congregation. The Reform, Reconstructionist and Secular Humanist movements encourage the participation of the non-Jewish partner in nearly all aspects of Jewish life.

A meeting with a Conservative or Orthodox rabbi will, of course, confirm your prospective daughter-in-law's expectations. Of course, if she were to convert to Judaism, then not only would she be considered fully a Jew but her children would as well. But that isn't required for her children to be considered Jewish in Reform, Reconstructionist or Secular Humanist Judaism.

Education is the key here. The current high rate of intermarriage has presented a challenge to the entire Jewish community. Each of the different streams of Judaism has responded to this challenge in its own way, some by tightening their boundaries, others by loosening them. And, just as each movement of Judaism is grappling with its sense of inclusion, so does each community or congregation have its own degree of openess and welcome. The only way to know whether your Hindu daughter-in-law and her Jewish husband would feel comfortable in a particular Jewish setting (synagogue, JCC, renewal center, etc.) is for them to check it out.

It may also be helpful for your prospective daughter-in-law to do a little reading. Increasingly, there are books and testimonials written by Jews of color, Jews of Asian and Indian descent, adoptive Jewish parents raising kids who don't look like themselves--that poignantly depict their experiences within the American Jewish community--experiences of being Jewish and "different." The archives (http://www.interfaithfamily.com) of this very magazine are filled with lovely stories of mixed marriages that reflect the diversity of today's interfaith population. I would hope that your prospective daughter-in-law could come away with the sense that not only is there is much variety within the Jewish community, but also that there is no "standard issue" Jewish family. Should she decide to enter into the mix, to raise Jewish children, her particular background and perspective would only add to the richness of it all. Good luck!

http://www.interfaithfamily.com/site/apps/nl/content2.asp?c=ekLSK5MLIrG&b=297381&... 7/27/2006 Page 3 of 3

What do you think?

Wendy Weltman Palmer, M.S.W. is a licensed marriage and family therapist in private practice in Dallas, Texas. As a former Director of Outreach and Synagogue Community for the Union of Reform Judaism, Ms. Palmer helped develop programs for interfaith couples and families throughout the Southwest. Ms. Palmer's experience as a partner in an interfaith marriage adds a special dimension to the consultation she provides to the on-line and local interfaith community.

http://www.interfaithfamily.com/site/apps/nl/content2.asp?c=ekLSK5MLIrG&b=297381&... 7/27/2006 Page 1 of 3

Passage to India By Carol Kort

This year, once again, I will be having a Hanukkah party that my brother Roy will not attend.

When he was twenty, my brother dropped out of college and left his comfortable, middle-class surroundings in suburban New Jersey to live on an ashram in India. As a student of music and art, Roy was propelled into the psychedelic drug culture popular in the early 1970s. Fortunately he didn't want to self-destruct, as a few of his friends had, and so when his Sanskrit teacher suggested he consider moving to Auroville, a spiritual community in southern India, he applied for a passport. Perhaps an even more salient reason for his sudden sojourn to India was his quest for a meaningful spiritual life.

Like many young assimilated Jews at that time, Roy was attracted to eastern religions, in part because of his disappointment with his own birth religion.

What did being Jewish mean to him? I suspect, for the most part, it meant attending Hebrew school three times weekly to learn a difficult, useless language that made no sense to him. And all that work was in preparation for a Bar Mitzvah (ceremony in which one assumes the obligations and privileges of an adult Jew), to be followed by a big splashy party, neither of which he wanted! Not exactly the stuff of which spiritual fantasies are made.

When Roy left for Auroville, which describes itself as an experimental "universal town belonging to nobody in particular, where men and women from all countries are able to live in peace and progressive harmony, above all creeds, all politics and all nationalities," my parents were terribly alarmed. But they assumed that their prodigal son would return home once he had gotten the Indian mishagas (craziness) out of his system.

That was thirty-two years ago. Roy still lives in Auroville, named after his guru and its founder, Sri Aurobindo, an Indian revolutionary who became a philosopher, poet, and mystic. Aurobindo and Mira Richard, also known as The Mother (both have died), created the ashram as a spiritual retreat; more than 1,000 Aurovillians live and work together in settlements surrounding the ashram. What they have in common is the "spiritual pursuit of a higher level of human existence."

At times it seemed that The Mother was more important to Roy than our mother. Instead of spending the holidays with his Jewish relatives in New Jersey or Florida, Roy has an extended family in Auroville, including his wife Gillian, a non-Jewish Australian craftswoman and astrologist.

http://www.interfaithfamily.com/site/apps/nl/content2.asp?c=ekLSK5MLIrG&b=297385&... 7/27/2006 Page 2 of 3

Ironically, Roy is not the only one in our family to have experienced communal life, where residents contribute their skill and labor in return for room and board. My husband and I spent a year on a kibbutz near Haifa. I never expected living in Israel would affect me as much as it did. I returned to America with a profound appreciation of Israel and what it meant to be Jewish. Shortly thereafter I had children, and they, too, have strong Jewish identities. Although I attend a Reform temple, and only rarely, I am most definitely a Jew.

My brother's "kibbutz" in India has enabled him to feel he is helping to shape a new society, one in which spirituality plays a major role. I can see how valuable his stay in India has been: Roy has evolved from a frustrated, frenetic child--a lost soul--into a content, gentle adult. Through prayer, meditation, and study, as well as a loving marriage to someone who shares his lifestyle and beliefs, Roy seems to have found inner peace and God. But he is most definitely not a Jew.

While I am happy for my brother, I sometimes have trouble with his repudiation of his Jewish roots. For one thing, we disagree strongly about Israel. In India, Roy gets most of his information from BBC radio reports or stories in the local press which are often biased against Israel, pro- Palestinian, and anti-Semitic. Also, Roy has been separated from Jewishness--holidays, humor, food, history--for so long that when we do get together, I no longer relate to him as my "Jewish brother." His "otherness" feels odd and alienating.

For example, I know that Christmas is very important to his wife Gillian; as a couple they celebrate the holiday in a big way, but they do nothing to celebrate Hanukkah. I also know Roy practices certain Native American traditions and rituals, in addition to prayers inspired by his guru. In other words, Roy's spirituality, at least in practice, seems to combine aspects of Hinduism, Buddhism, Christianity, and Native Americanism--but no Judaism.

I wish Roy could see that being a Jew now is very different from what he remembers at the stodgy, rigid Hebrew school he was forced to attend. He would like the healing services and the New Age aspects of Reform Judaism. I am sorry he didn't come to my daughters' Bat Mitzvahs: I think he would have enjoyed the personalized, multifaceted ceremonies that combined poetry, music, and family participation. In fact, at one of them, a friend stood on the bimah (podium) and read a passage by Sri Aurobindo in Roy's honor, and in his absence.

I am also sad that he has missed our jovial, modernized seders (ritual meals) and festive Hanukkah parties. I think he and his wife would have had fun, and that perhaps Roy might have embraced at least some aspects of his Jewish identity. But . . . perhaps not. He is far away, physically and spiritually, and that often leaves me feeling like I don't really have a brother. Yet I admire his decision to aspire to a life of contemplation and self-development.

It hasn't always been easy, for him or for me, but he seems to have found his spiritual place on earth. It isn't centered in Jerusalem, "City of Gold," but rather in Auroville, which means "City of Dawn."

Carol Kort co-edited two books on parenting and is the author of American Women Writers and co-author of American Women in the Visual Arts. She has also written books for the Boston Symphony Orchestra and articles for The New York Times Education Life

http://www.interfaithfamily.com/site/apps/nl/content2.asp?c=ekLSK5MLIrG&b=297385&... 7/27/2006 Page 3 of 3

Magazine and The Boston Sunday Globe Magazine.

http://www.interfaithfamily.com/site/apps/nl/content2.asp?c=ekLSK5MLIrG&b=297385&... 7/27/2006