My answer remained unchanged. I grew up in a tolerant Jewish household. Two years later, I realize my perspective was simplistic, maybe even naive. He made a vague reference to his parents not approving of our relationship, but I knew there was more to the story. It went against their religious values for him to date anyone, let alone a non-Muslimβthey viewed the act as haram , or forbidden by Islamic law.
They told him they felt angered and disappointed and that they thought I would distract him from getting good grades, getting into a good med school, and being a good Muslim.
They felt hurt by his choice, as the oldest child, to set a bad example for his siblings by going against their wishes. While my family members reacted better, several still had questions. I wondered if maybe he was right.
Underlying the assumption that I had a fickle relationship with religion, I think, was the idea that as a woman, I would allow my identity to be swept away by whomever I dated. Was I Jewish? I could read Hebrew. I was Jewish. In the face of his devoutness, I had been reluctant to reveal my relative lack of religiosity. He prayed every morning, bowing before God before reading from the Quran. How could I compare? Spiritually lost and confused, I sought out the rabbi at my college.
Did dating someone in another faith group invalidate my Judaism? I asked him. Was it even worse that my partner was Muslim? Instead of answering my question, in true Jewish fashion, the rabbi posed a question back to me: Why should dating someone of another religion make me any less of a Jew? He gave me readings about communities of Muslims and Jews that have lived in harmony, and about different ways that Jews throughout history have connected to and rooted themselves in Judaism through Buddhist and interfaith practices.
