Understanding Parenting in a Two-Religion Family
My partner, Mike, is a devout Christian, deeply engaged in his faith—he reads the Bible, meditates on the teachings of Jesus, and cherishes his church community. On the flip side, I was raised in a secular Jewish household by parents who didn’t embrace religious traditions. My connection to Judaism leans more toward cultural elements like bagels and humor rather than spiritual beliefs. I never had a bat mitzvah, didn’t attend synagogue, and school was never skipped for Jewish holidays. The most I engaged with my heritage was at family gatherings, where we lit the menorah and enjoyed Passover dinners.
For years, I identified as agnostic until a book by Penn Jillette, God, No!, prompted me to embrace my atheism. While I sense a connection to something greater than the physical world—perhaps a cosmic rhythm—I don’t subscribe to the idea of a deity requiring our reverence.
I had a short list of criteria for my future partner—one of which was that he should not have religious beliefs. Friends with faith were fine, but a serious relationship with someone holding such different convictions seemed impossible. Then I met Mike, who effortlessly shattered my preconceived rules, and I fell head over heels in love.
We tackled the religion topic early in our relationship. Mike is open-minded, willing to engage in discussions about beliefs without conflict. My background—a gay father and a liberal family—didn’t faze him. His family is more relaxed about religion, embodying the essence of what I believe a good Christian should be: welcoming, nonjudgmental, and generous-hearted.
When we had kids, many warned us about potential conflicts arising from our differing faiths. What transpired? Nothing.
- Did we argue? No.
- Are the kids confused? Not at all.
- Is there awkwardness during holidays or on Sunday mornings? Absolutely not.
- Do we hide our beliefs from the kids? Never.
On Sundays, Mike usually heads to church, occasionally accompanied by one or both kids. Admittedly, I feel a twinge when they return with Sunday school handouts, yet it’s fleeting. If they choose not to attend, that’s perfectly fine too. I might occasionally plan fun activities to distract them, but it all works out in the end.
Christmas is a joy for me—I’ve adored it since childhood. Now, celebrating it with a family of Christians means we can decorate our home, and I embrace my role as “The Jew Who Loves Christmas.” (Perhaps one day, that’ll be the title of my first children’s book.)
As for Hanukkah, we light the menorah sans prayers, simply because I don’t know them. It brings back fond memories of my upbringing. Other Jewish holidays pass by without observation, but nowadays, schools close for them anyway.
My son enjoys discussing Bible stories with Mike, asking questions about the characters and their meanings. My daughter, on the other hand, at age 7, is less interested and often perplexed about my beliefs. Once, she told her friends, “Mommy hates God,” which sent me into a mild panic about her friendships until I clarified that she shouldn’t share such sentiments.
Surprisingly, Mike and I have never quarreled over religion or how to raise our children regarding faith. We’ve had numerous engaging conversations about our views, and despite our differences, we maintain respect and curiosity for each other’s beliefs. I can’t comprehend his faith, and he struggles with my atheism, yet here we are.
At the start of our relationship, we discovered two unexpected commonalities:
- We both cherished The Chronicles of Narnia series by C.S. Lewis, which I hadn’t realized was steeped in Christian themes—yet my love for those stories remained unchanged.
- Mike had never encountered anyone with a strong moral compass who didn’t derive it from religion, while I had never met someone who could embody such morals and still believe in the Church.
Mike’s past was more fundamentalist; he once attended a church that revolved around a charismatic pastor. However, after feeling disillusioned with the community’s treatment of him because of me—an “unequally yoked” relationship—he left, along with several friends who shared his sentiments.
So, what’s my survival guide? Quite simple: respect each other. Mike believes it’s God’s job to reach out to me, while I know that’s unlikely. Still, I appreciate the joy and strength he draws from his faith, and I would never stand in the way of that. I’ve met some of his church friends—they’re warm, open-minded, and surprisingly relatable.
Our open hearts and minds are the keys to our harmonious coexistence. As our children grow and their questions deepen, we’ll continue to provide honest answers, tackling everything head-on.
In summary, a two-religion marriage can thrive on mutual respect and open communication. As long as both partners remain committed to understanding each other’s perspectives, the family can navigate the complexities of differing beliefs with grace.
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Keyphrase: Multifaith Marriage Guide
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