A snapshot of a couple that allegedly is destroying the Jewish people:

“I feel devastated... I’ve known him all my life. He bat mitzvahed me. He confirmed me... I just always thought that he would marry me. But he shook his head and told me that he wouldn’t. He said that we were destroying the Jewish people.”

They sit in front of me — she crying, he handing her a tissue and rubbing her back. His face is concerned and confused. He leans over and says to me, “I’m not even really Christian but my parents are. In fact, they keep telling us that their minister will be happy to marry us. But I don’t know, Christianity never really made sense to me as a faith, growing up, so why would I want to have a minister marry me now? It’s not like it’s even really an interfaith marriage. It’s just that I don’t know enough right now to say that I would want to convert. I like Judaism, and I love the way her family has welcomed me in. It’s just that he wanted me to make all these promises. And I couldn’t make them... because I just don’t know.”

I sit before them... moved to tears by how much they care about Judaism... how brave it was for them to risk rejection for a third time! These are the people who are destroying the Jewish people? This loving couple that is practically begging for a rabbi to help them find a way to incorporate Judaism into their life together as a couple — these are not the people who are destroying the Jewish people. These are the people who are saving the Jewish people, despite all odds.

Because the claim that our survival is in jeopardy is true. We do not seem to be growing. We are losing Jews, not because of who they choose to marry, but because of how we respond to them. The more restrictive our definition for “who is a Jew,” the more we will shrink. When I am faced with couples exactly like this one, I feel awe.

And I feel anger. A deep anger and sadness for how fear becomes a self-fulfilling prophecy. We are our own worst enemy. The desire to protect the Jewish people is actually turning Jews away. As a child of a Holocaust survivor, I know, only too well, the fear of extinction that is causing so many to react in a narrow and restrictive manner. If we have learned anything from that unspeakably awful experience, I wish it was that fear is at the root of prejudice and that giving in to fear is an abdication of faith.

The first way in which intermarriage can be a blessing for the Jewish people is the new possibilities offered. Many non-Jews, through their exposure to Judaism, eventually incorporate elements of our faith into their lives. They may or may not always choose to formalize this process through an official conversion, but their presence in our congregations is a gift. Through their questions and insights, they bring a new perspective on rituals and beliefs that we may have taken for granted. They may inspire their own partners to become more observant, or to attend services more regularly. These individuals who are binding their fate with our own are a huge blessing. We owe them our gratitude.

Of course, not everyone who marries a Jew chooses to live Jewishly. It may be because they have their own religious faith, or it may be because they do not want to be where they are not welcomed or wanted. Nevertheless, such individuals, and their families can still be a force for good and blessing for the Jewish people. The advent of thousands of non-Jews choosing to link their fate with the fate of Jews means that thousands of non-Jews will have a personal stake in fighting anti-Semitism. Having countless new advocates, with personal connections to our people, is just as essential in our perennial quest for Jewish continuity.

I understand that the concern over numbers emerges from our own unresolved grief over the millions who perished in the Holocaust. But the way we express our fears does not help to create a world where we can say with certainty, “Never again”. I believe that our challenge is a task of alchemy, namely to transform our dark shadowy legacy into one where ignorance is replaced with understanding, blindness with sight, fear with trust and hatred with love. This is the real task of Jewish continuity, to liberate ourselves from the specters of our history. How many times do we need to experience Mitzrayim — the biblical Egypt which symbolizes all narrow places that imprison us — to learn how to love those who come to dwell amongst us?

The most frequent objection to intermarriage is the children. How can the children of a minority be brought up being exposed to the faith of a minority and a majority? Both sides of the debate turn to statistics, of varying degrees of validity, to back up their arguments... And, so, it is appropriate to note here that there are several studies that seem to indicate that children of intermarriage have just as high a degree of Jewish self-identification as the children of two Jews married.

But the hazard of relying upon research is that these studies are done on intermarried couples and their children in a social environment where their parents may have been rejected at least as often as the couple described above. We do not know what the outcomes could be if we, as a Jewish community, were to respond differently — if we were to respond with love instead of fear. What if couples who chose to marry, and wanted a rabbi to participate, were lovingly welcomed into the Jewish community, without judgment or condition? What would the rates of Jewish identification for their children be?

Jewish Continuity
Jewish continuity is not just about quantity, but quality. And when couples intermarry, the Jewish community is given the opportunity to be enriched at every level. The fate of the Jewish people depends upon Jews and non-Jews, upon individuals like our couple, who are bravely willing to risk rejection and stigma.

The real threat of extinction is when we cease to be true to ourselves and true to our faith. At the core of our faith is the Sh’ma and the V’ahavta, namely the command to listen and to love. We are commanded to listen to God’s ongoing revelation through love and to respond in love.
The challenge of intermarriage is an opportunity to do just that, to listen closely to these couples, and to hear God’s word in the powerful love that they embody — in their love for one another, and in their love for God that inspires them to risk repeated rejection in order to receive blessing. And who are we to withhold blessing?

Nadia Siritsky is a Reform rabbi who lives in Canada. This article originally appeared in the Reform Advocate published by the Society for Classical Reform Judaism and is reprinted with permission.