In my marriage, I am partnered with a devoted Christian. He is not the type who merely identifies as Christian without much thought; he actively engages with the Bible, reflects on the teachings of Jesus, and cherishes his church community. In contrast, I identify as an atheist Jew, raised in a family that did not practice religion. For me, that translates to a stronger bond with cultural elements like bagels, matzo ball soup, and a pervasive sense of identity rather than any religious doctrine. I did not undergo a bat mitzvah, attend synagogue, or observe Jewish holidays. My Jewish experiences were limited to family gatherings, such as Passover dinners, and having a menorah that adorned our home.
For years, I labeled myself as agnostic until I read Penn Jillette’s book God, No!, which helped me realize that I align more closely with atheism, albeit with an appreciation for the universe’s mysteries. I do not believe in a deity that demands our reverence but do sense that there is something greater than the tangible world.
I had three criteria for my future partner, one of which was a complete lack of religious involvement. Though I have friends with various beliefs, I never envisioned sharing my life with someone whose faith was so distinct from mine. Yet, I met Alex, who defied all my expectations, and I fell deeply in love.
We addressed the topic of religion early in our relationship. Alex is open-minded and willing to engage in discussions about faith. His beliefs didn’t clash with my atheistic views or my liberal upbringing. His family, while more relaxed about religion, embodies the essence of what I believe a “good Christian” should be—kind, supportive, and nonjudgmental, setting an example through actions rather than words.
When we became parents, we faced the potential challenges that could arise from our differing beliefs. Surprisingly, however, we experienced none of the anticipated conflicts. Our children do not appear confused, nor do we hide our beliefs from them.
On Sundays, Alex typically attends church, and occasionally one or both of our children join him. While I sometimes feel a twinge of discomfort when they return with Sunday school materials, it is something I manage. Our children have the freedom to choose whether to attend, and while I strive not to entice them with alternative activities, sometimes we all adapt and move forward.
Christmas is a joyous occasion for me; I’ve enjoyed celebrating it since childhood. Now that I’m surrounded by Christians, I embrace the spirit fully, even adorning our home with lights. I like to think of myself as “The Jew Who Loves Christmas,” a title I might use for a future children’s book.
Hanukkah is straightforward; we light the menorah, albeit without prayers since I don’t know them. Other Jewish holidays often go unnoticed, although schools now typically close for them.
Our son enjoys exploring Bible stories with Alex, engaging in discussions about their meanings. Meanwhile, our daughter, at the age of seven, is less interested and sometimes confused about my stance, once remarking to a friend that “Mommy hates God,” which I had to clarify for her.
You might find it hard to believe, but Alex and I have never quarreled over religion or how to present it to our children. We have engaged in many spirited conversations about our differing beliefs, yet we remain respectful and committed to understanding one another. I may never fully grasp his faith, and he may not comprehend my perspective, but we coexist peacefully.
Early in our relationship, we discovered two surprising truths:
- We both cherished the Chronicles of Narnia series by C.S. Lewis, a connection that remains unaffected despite its Christian roots.
- Before meeting me, Alex had not encountered anyone with a strong moral compass who did not derive it from religion, while I had not known someone who could believe in God yet possess a robust moral framework.
Alex once held more fundamental beliefs and left a church that revolved around a charismatic pastor. He became disillusioned when he was deemed “unequally yoked” due to my lack of faith. Following his departure, several of his friends also left the church, sharing his disappointment.
The essence of our successful partnership boils down to mutual respect. Alex firmly believes that a divine presence could one day reach out to me. I, however, am certain that this will not happen. Nevertheless, I recognize the joy and support he finds within his faith, and I would never obstruct that. The friends I have met from his church are warm and welcoming, defying my initial expectations.
Our relationship thrives on open minds and open hearts. As our children grow and pose more questions about faith, we will continue to answer them honestly and openly. When it works, it just works.
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Summary:
A multi-faith marriage can thrive with open communication, mutual respect, and a commitment to understanding each other’s beliefs. This guide outlines the author’s experiences as an atheist Jew married to a devoted Christian and how they navigate parenting amidst differing faiths. By embracing cultural traditions and maintaining an open dialogue with their children, they have fostered a harmonious family environment.