Interfaith Marriage in America Today

Hello, friends.

Guess what?! One of my college roommates is getting married. *commences celebration* I was so excited to hear her news, and I am still so incredibly excited (we had an hour-long discussion about seating arrangements not so long ago...), and you will all just have to forgive my excitement, as she is one of my first friends to get engaged. I'm thrilled! And guess what the kicker is...Ready for it? She's entering into an interfaith marriage.

As I have mentioned before, interfaith marriage/family is something I was blessed to experience growing up. With a Catholic mother and a Jewish father, I had the best of both worlds: we celebrated Christmas and Chanukah, Easter and Passover, learned from one another's traditions, and all in all just made it work. But since entering the "interfaith" world more widely, talking about these issues more purposefully and with intentionality, I've learned that not all interfaith marriages work out so smoothly as my parents' has (they're celebrating their 25th anniversary this year!). But why? How? What? Not everyone smoothly transitions into a life involving sometimes conflicting faith beliefs and traditions? (That last one was sarcastic.)

So I was very excited to learn more about interfaith marriages when, a few weeks ago, a good friend of mine recommended I read a new book, 'Til Faith Do Us Part, by Naomi Schaefer Riley, a woman who herself entered into an interfaith marriage. It only just came out in 2013 and it takes an in-depth look at the rise in interfaith marriage in America, both statistically through a study the author did and through stories about specific families.

Let's just say, I finished the book in about a day (though I've kept it checked out of the library waaaay past its due date...oops!). Many people might have found the large number of statistics a bit dull, but I devoured most of them, and really want to try to remember as much as possible from this book for use in my studies in Rome and beyond.

I was a bit disheartened by the somewhat negative tone of the much of the book. Now, the (Jewish) author clearly knows that interfaith marriage can succeed--based on her marriage to a man raised as a Jehovah's Witness (who stopped practicing). But her words seem to put a lot of negative spin on the issues, from the very first issues arising about planning the wedding (one clergy member, two, or a justice of the peace?) to choosing the religion of children (one, both, or none?) and death practices. Even the title itself implies that divisiveness is the order of the day in interfaith relationships, rather than compromise and a desire to learn. I certainly do appreciate a lot of what she said: after reading her book, I see that interfaith can clearly pose challenges. Some such marriages end in divorce, or lead to both members moving away from religion, which may result from the marriage specifically or just arise from individual decisions.

But there are so many things to celebrate in an interfaith families, things that are difficult to experience in as real depth in a same-faith family. A living, breathing appreciation of diversity. A deep knowledge of another faith (remember, I was accepted to study at a Catholic University in Rome, for which an advanced knowledge of Catholic theology was required, something helped by knowing about my mother's faith for my whole life). The ability to understand that no one has to be "right" in matters of faith, that we can all be "right" in different ways (which brings to mind the title of a book You Don't Have to be Wrong for Me to be Right, by Brad Hirschfield, a book I have not read but love the title). Here are some of what I though were the most interesting bits:

• "About 20% of couples married before the 1960s were interfaith matches. Of couples married in the past decade, 45 percent were." p. 6
• "One woman I spoke to, who was brought up Catholic, recalls her thoughts on dating when she went off to college: ‘To limit yourself to only people of your own religion seemed bigoted…There is a whole world of people that I don’t know.’ To write them off as potential partners before she even met them ‘seemed rude.’ The language is revealing. It’s as if our society’s institutional rules about hiring an employee or admitting someone to college have morphed into rules for dating.” p. 13
• "We often tend to imagine interfaith weddings as having two officiants—that both the bride and groom’s traditions are represented equally, perhaps symmetrically. The New York Times wedding announcements do seem to mention a disproportionate number. But weddings with religious leaders from different faiths are rare: only 4 percent of interfaith (and, surprisingly, 2 percent of same-faith) couples employ them. Instead, interfaith couples are much more likely to have used a civil official (43 percent vs. 31 percent for same-faith couples).” p. 62
• “Americans are mostly reluctant to raise their children in more than one faith…According to my survey, about 80 percent of same-faith couples raised their kids in one faith and about 20 percent raised them in no faith. A plurality of interfaith couples, about 40 percent, agreed to raise their children in one faith. About a third are raising their kids with no faith; and another 20 percent are trying to raise them in both.” p. 99

So for those who choose to seek a partner in the same faith, is there a legitimate, non-discriminatory-seeming way to limit oneself to members of the same religion? Or should that even be a goal in today's multifaith world?

All of these discussions about interfaith marriages get me thinking about my own views on marriage. One of the biggest issues I see with interfaith marriage is the threat of loneliness when wanting to attend religious services. In our family, we sometimes all go together--to temple, to church. But over the past four years in Virginia, and this summer even at home as I start attending more often, if I want to go to services, I often end up going alone. And it's hard. It's tough to be the only person there under 65. It's sad to be alone when everyone else is sitting there with family. And while many people in congregations are usually welcoming, it's just not the same feeling to attend temple alone, maybe because growing up Jewish meant I had a strong community, where I knew a lot of people at temple, and a lot of people knew me. So would I be willing to do that for the rest of my life, if I were to marry someone who was not Jewish? To maybe spend many Friday nights alone in the synagogue, without my significant other?

I don't have that answer yet. But with all of these statistics and ideas swirling around, and as I leave the disappointing college dating scene behind and head out into the wider world, it will definitely be something I keep in the back of my mind.

Now go out and love one another.

<3,
Allyson

P.S. Can I just point out, the author of this book spent a few pages detailing how much she dislikes the "kitschy" element of mixed-religion cards/paraphernalia (like a Christmas-Chanukah card). I LOVE THESE TYPES OF THINGS mainly because I LOVE Christmas. Send me a card with Santa spinning a dreidel and we may just be friends forever. Because it's less about a specific statement about religion, and more about celebrating that some families are diverse. They sell cute cards here, for anyone who feels a strong desire to bombard me with interfaith love while I'm in Rome...www.mixedblessing.com