My wife is a devout Christian. Not just a casual believer, but someone who immerses herself in the Bible, reflects on Jesus’ teachings, and cherishes her church community. I, on the other hand, identify as an atheist Jew, having been raised in a family that shares similar beliefs. What does that mean for me? It signifies a more profound connection to cultural aspects like bagels and lox, Mel Brooks, and a subtle sense of historical struggle, rather than any specific religious conviction. I never had a bar mitzvah, didn’t attend synagogue, and didn’t take off school for Jewish holidays. I participated in family traditions, like Passover dinners and lighting the menorah, but that was the extent of my religious upbringing.
For years, I labeled myself as agnostic until I read Penn Jillette’s book, “God, No!” and realized I was, in fact, an atheist who had been using softer terminology. While I do sense a connection to something greater than ourselves—some rhythm or mystical quality to the universe—I don’t subscribe to the notion of a deity that requires worship.
Initially, I had three non-negotiable rules for any romantic relationship, one of which was that my partner couldn’t be religious. I have friends who are believers, but the idea of committing to someone with such a starkly different belief system was unfathomable. Then I met Mike, who shattered all my rules, and I fell deeply in love.
We tackled the topic of religion right from the start. Mike is an open-minded individual who enjoys discussing various subjects, and his beliefs didn’t clash with my atheism, my LGBTQ-friendly family, or my liberal views. His parents are more laid-back about faith, which has created a harmonious atmosphere. They exemplify what I consider to be true Christian values: kindness, service, and a non-judgmental attitude. They lead by example, which has been refreshing.
When our kids arrived, many warned us about potential conflicts arising from our differing faiths. So, how did it go? Surprisingly smoothly.
Did we argue? No. Are our children confused? Not at all. Is there any awkwardness during holidays or on Sunday mornings? None whatsoever. We’re transparent with our kids about our beliefs. On Sundays, Mike usually attends church, and sometimes our kids join him. I’ll admit there’s a slight twinge of discomfort when they come home with Sunday school papers, but I quickly move past it. If they choose not to go, they simply don’t, and I avoid luring them with enticing Sunday activities, though I sometimes fail, and we all move on.
Christmas has been a joy for me since childhood, and now, being surrounded by Christians, we embrace the tradition wholeheartedly, even hanging outdoor lights—I’m quite proud to be “The Jew Who Loves Christmas.” Hanukkah is also easy; we light the menorah, sans prayers, given I don’t know any, but I cherish the ritual. Other Jewish holidays tend to go unnoticed, but our schools typically close for them anyway.
My son enjoys reading Bible stories and discussing them with Mike, often seeking my perspective on faith or lack thereof. My daughter, who is 7, is less engaged and sometimes muddles her understanding of my views. Once, she told her friends, “Mommy hates God,” which prompted me to gently correct her—fearing for her social life!
Believe it or not, Mike and I have never fought over religion or its implications for our kids. We’ve engaged in lively conversations about our differing viewpoints, yet we manage to remain respectful and curious about each other’s beliefs. While I can’t fully grasp his faith, and he struggles to understand mine, we find common ground.
Initially, we discovered something unexpected: both of us cherished C.S. Lewis’s “The Chronicles of Narnia” during our childhoods, unaware of its Christian themes. For me, it didn’t change how much I loved those stories. Conversely, Mike hadn’t encountered anyone with a strong moral compass who didn’t derive their ethics from religion until we met.
He once attended a church where fundamentalist views prevailed, and he became disillusioned when they decided he was “unequally yoked” because of our relationship. When he left, several friends followed suit, equally disappointed.
So, my survival guide boils down to this: mutual respect. Mike believes it’s ultimately God’s role to guide me, while I am firm in my belief that it won’t happen. However, I see the joy and strength he derives from his faith, and I would never impede that. I’ve met some of his church friends, and they’ve surprised me with their warmth and intelligence, defying my expectations.
Our mutual open-mindedness and kindness are the foundation of our relationship. As our children grow and their questions deepen, we’ll continue to respond openly and honestly. When it works, it just works.
For those interested in more about parenting and family planning, check out this excellent resource for pregnancy and home insemination. And if you’re looking for a reliable home insemination kit, consider visiting this site, which provides a comprehensive guide!
In summary, embracing each other’s beliefs while fostering respect and understanding can lead to a harmonious marriage, even across religious divides.