Days of Awe may be solo events in interfaith families

It was Yom Kippur 1992. Sari McClure had come to services at Temple Isaiah in Lafayette alone. Her husband, John, isn't Jewish and being a new member, McClure didn't know many people. She remembers sitting by herself, on a folding chair, in the back of the sanctuary, crying.

"My father had just died," she said. The man sitting next to her handed her a tissue, but when she turned to thank him, he was gone. She felt very lonely. "It was awful."

For many, an experience like that would turn them off from synagogue life. But not McClure. She took action. Knowing that the Reform temple had a large number of interfaith families, she started an informal group called "September Situations," the High Holy Day counterpart to the "December Dilemma."

"It dealt with interfaith family issues during the High Holy Days," says McClure "It gave people a forum to get together and share their feelings of loneliness."

The group helped congregants connect with other interfaith families and provided them with the opportunity to talk about what the High Holy Day experience was like for them.

Ronnie Friedland, co-editor of "The Guide to Jewish Interfaith Family Life," a forthcoming anthology of articles from http://www.InterfaithFamily.com, says the High Holy Days are often difficult for interfaith families in part because of differences between how Jews and Christians perceive what it means to be a Jew.

"Many Jews don't attend synagogue except during the High Holidays, yet still feel very Jewish. Some non-Jewish spouses feel that not attending synagogue the rest of the year means that their Jewish spouse isn't much of a Jew," says Friedland. "Also, Christians don't really have comparable religious observances to Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur."

In addition to the more spiritual issues surrounding interfaith families and the fall holidays, "September Situations" also helped solve the very practical problem of having someone to sit with during services.

Out of the group grew an informal seating arrangement: Those who came to services alone, whether on Friday night or during the High Holy Days, soon found out that in a section on the right-hand side of the sanctuary, they would find others who were also alone. The section wasn't limited to interfaith families. Those who were single, widowed, divorced or were just going solo for the night had a home. It made a tremendous difference.

Even today, "people know when they walk into the synagogue they'll find others to sit with," McClure says.

Although John McClure, a very lapsed Catholic, supported raising his daughters Jewish and participated in their b'not mitzvah, Sari McClure says there still is a nagging loneliness during the High Holy Days.

"When you walk into temple and see a man in his tallit with his wife and children sitting next to him, you remember you're not part of that anymore," she says.

Ruth Fremes, who is in her late 60s, has had similar feelings.

"We've been at this for a long time," says Fremes, whose husband is a non-Jewish Egyptian. "At first [my husband] came to services with me because I felt lonely. He's been surrounded by Jews his whole life and never feels out of place."

One of the reasons she feels comfortable is that her synagogue, Temple Beth Hillel in Richmond, is warm, welcoming and small. It has only 100 families, many of whom are interfaith.

But even she agrees it's not the same as having a Jewish spouse.

"The things that isolate him are that he doesn't believe and he doesn't speak Hebrew," she says, adding that even some Jewish congregants don't know Hebrew and sometimes feel left behind. And in conversations with her granddaughter, albeit hypothetical, about marrying in versus marrying out, Fremes tells her: "The High Holidays are when you'll feel lonely. People who are Jewish by birth have a transformation when they walk into a synagogue."

There are many ways to accommodate differences, and interfaith couples find those that work for them. For Debbie La Fetra, outreach chair at Congregation Beth Am in Los Altos Hills, it means asking her husband to make sure the car is fully fueled so she doesn't have to go to a gas station and spend money on Rosh Hashanah or Yom Kippur.

La Fetra's husband, Bruce, is Episcopalian. He's active in his church and rarely goes to synagogue services with her but is respectful and supportive of her participation.

"Bruce doesn't really get into services in general," she says. "It wouldn't be a comfort to me to have him there because he's uncomfortable. He'd have to take off work. They're too long and there's too much Hebrew."

So La Fetra makes arrangements to meet friends and sit with them at services.

"These days I know who's going to be there," says La Fetra, who is active in her congregation. "There was one year when my parents were able to come. That was wonderful. Sure I miss my family. I miss [Bruce]."

And when it comes to the holiday meal, there are many ways to handle that. Beth Hillel hosts a Rosh Hashanah lunch that the Fremeses attend. McClure belongs to an informal chavurah of interfaith families that holds an Erev Rosh Hashanah dinner and break the fast.

Friedland reminds the Jewish partner not to ignore their mate at these events.

"When attending gatherings around the High Holidays, the Jewish partner can help the non-Jewish partner feel comfortable by spending a lot of time with him or her, making sure that the non-Jewish partner feels included and special," she suggests. "He or she is often in an unfamiliar world."

McClure adds that on a year-round basis, you should make the non-Jewish partner's world part of your own.

"It's important to honor your non-Jewish spouse's traditions," she says. "You don't have to do it religiously. Honor their cultural heritage."

As with every marriage, whether interfaith or not, the key to success is compromise.

"There are always compromises," says McClure.