What Would Sid Say About Inter-faith Relationships?

When external factors infringe on your relationship, how can you keep the love flowing? Buddhist advicefor dealing with the Jewish future in-laws.

Before Siddhartha Gautama attained enlightenment he was a confused twenty and thirty-something looking to learn how to live a spiritual life. Each week in this column we look at what it might be like if a fictional Siddhartha was on his spiritual journey today. How would he combine Buddhism and dating? How would he handle stress in the workplace? What Would Sid Do? is devoted to taking an honest look at what we as meditators face in the modern world.

Have a question for this weekly column? Click here and I’ll probably get to it!
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My boyfriend – who is Jewish – recently told me that no matter what, his parents will not be happy unless he marries a Jewish girl. While marriage is not coming up tomorrow, we do love each other, and I intended on letting this relationship grow naturally. Now I feel like I am stuck until he talks to his parents and asks them “What would happen if I fell for a non-Jewish girl?” I feel like no matter what I do or who I am – this one thing prevents us from being together. I am not against Jewish traditions, holidays, or weddings. Sigh…help? – JD

JD – It sounds like you are an open-minded individual and, chances are, your partner is too. I have some good news: if you two are content with one another and your relationship, I’m guessing this will have a happy ending regardless of what your boyfriend’s parents have to say.

You did not get into this relationship to make your boyfriend’s parents happy. As things progress along the way, that notion need not change. No matter how close both of you are to your parents, your romantic life is your own, and is based in your happiness, not the happiness of friends or family.

I am saddened to hear that even in today’s world, there is still blanket discrimination when it comes to inter-faith relationships. I hope that your lover’s parents get to meet you and experience you as a fellow human being, one that makes their son happy, as opposed to just some shiksa. I hate to second-guess your boyfriend but I’m guessing that if they meet you and see what a great partner you are to their child, his parents will relax a great deal.

In the worst case scenario, they refuse to acknowledge you as a positive force in your boyfriend’s life. In that case, I imagine our friend Sid would ask you to be gentle with yourself and see their misguided opinions for just that: confusion. You can hold them in your heart with compassion, as opposed to fear or anger, and recognize that their confusion has no real basis on your happiness. They may disapprove of you, but their primary motivation is that they want to be happy, just like you.

Further good news is that more often than not, parents will be happy because their kid is happy. I’m relatively confident that no one turns out exactly as their parents envision. Raising a child is a constant game of rearranging your fixed expectations of what this being you birthed should be. The more parents are able to relax their grip on set expectations, carefully managing the rollercoaster of hope and fear, the more they can accept their child and that child’s decisions with an open heart and mind.

So here is what I imagine Sid would recommend: don’t look to external factors for trouble, because you will find it. Instead, learn to be content within your relationship. Learn to be content with what is going on Right Now, not what may be coming up in a few years time. You can cross the “should we get married” bridge when you come to it. When that time rolls around you are likely to be stronger as a couple.

In the meantime, there’s no harm in exploring what one another’s religious traditions mean to you. Having open and honest conversations about why you like certain holidays or religious practices allows you to further understand what you will want as an inter-faith couple, as opposed to what is expected of you by others.

From that strong foundation of open communication and exploration you two can figure out what sort of spiritual life you want to build together. You can make compromises so that each of you feels that the other’s tradition is being respected and valued. You can even take part in one another’s spiritual lives, learning more about this intimate aspect of your partner’s well-being.

While raised Buddhist, in recent years I have been attending temple and seders with my fiancé. I have been exposed to teachings that I would not have heard otherwise that have caused me to pause and think differently. These explorations have given me insight into the beauty of another tradition and simultaneously strengthened my understanding of my own faith.

There is so much growth that can happen within the container of an inter-faith relationship. There is no need to let external pressure make you feel any less content than you currently do. Enjoy your time together, get to know one another, and screw the haters. In all seriousness, hold the haters in your heart with compassion, and hopefully they will come around to see you as the kind and loving person you are. Good luck!

“If you change the way you look at things, the things you look at change.” – Dr Wayne Dyer

I am currently enrolled in the Historical Studies department at The New School. This is supposed to be my last semester earning me a master’s degree. I was supposed to finish a year ago- but due to many circumstances, I prolonged it until now.

I will say that in the last year I have tried so hard to convince myself a degree was something I wanted. I finally stopped forcing I decided I needed to finish the degree because I am so close to the end. Now one week into this semester I see that the next few months pursuing this degree is going to teach me more about myself than anything else.

On day one back in the classroom I was able to see my old self inside everyone else. What I mean is: two years ago I was the intellectual who lives very much in their head, messy hair and attire, hunched back and stiff shoulders.  On Monday I sat there as if I was not a part of the room. I looked at everyone and tried to feel a part of the whole but really- I was wondering how they do it. How do they sit and read so much and write hundreds of pages to come up with a theory about a topic that a small percentage of the world will care about. They will eventually argue this topic over and over again. And this process will continue and continue until they get published, or hired, or something.

And please do understand that by no means am I criticizing the other people or people that spend their life in academia. I have great respect for professors and aspiring academics. This is more of a self-reflection of my own growth in a very short time. I used to want the academic life. I used to be that person. Now I am finding it painful to sit in a classroom and cannot fathom spending time in a library.

This contrast between old me and new me trying to be old me used to leave me feeling paralyzed in indecision. What is different than a year ago- when I first tried to finish the degree- is that now I see it as a personal project. I see this as teaching me how to work hard when my heart is not in it. This is me teaching myself discipline to say okay, this is going to be hard, but I can do it, I will figure it out.

You are wondering what is so hard.

After I graduated from The New School in 2009 I was exhausted. I worked full time through my entire college career but was committed to graduating in four years. School had been my stability and escape since I graduated high school. College was the first time I committed myself to my education and at the time I felt my education would empower me to have a life that could help others. Looking back I can see the lessons I learned during this time- but now, after becoming trained in yoga, my values and view of the world has changed so much that telling me to sit and read and write and argue seems so unappealing. A year ago- I fought the system with two fists. All I wanted to do was learn about yoga and myself. It was so hard for me to sit in a classroom and be unable to engage myself that I went into a very dark place internally every time I entered the school. My professors noticed me crying after class on more than one occasion. Something that had been so natural now was so alien. I went from straight A’s to straight incompletes. At the end of the first year I had dropped down to one class and eventually decided to take a semester off completely.

I spent a few months not thinking about school. I taught yoga, went to many new workshops to enhance my teaching, relaxed, and worked a lot. My friends often asked if I was going to go back but I never answered. I didn’t think about it. “Its an old passion” I would say, it doesn’t serve me anymore.

That is exactly how I felt. It is an old passion. I used to love history- but really, I just wanted to be a teacher. That was my goal- to eventually teach high school history.  That is why I went to school for history in the first place. I now teach yoga in high schools and have more joy and gratitude for the opportunity than anything in my life thus far. I felt- and feel- happy. I didn’t think a master’s degree made me a better person. I knew I wasn’t going to use the degree for what I thought I was going to use it for.

But what do you do when you are tens of thousands of dollars in debt for a degree that you could be finished with in 4 months? Do you let it go? Or do you finish it?

Until three weeks ago I would have said let it go. I would have probably gotten a little defensive and said “I have a career.”

Now I feel like the process of finishing this degree is another yoga for me. I see it as a pose that may not be easy. This is the pose I want to do but I am terrified of. This is the pose that I need to practice at home over and over again. Actually, as I write this, I see that this degree is like headstand for me. I can’t do headstand, I try it over and over, and I have fallen out of it, but something holds me back from holding myself up in it. I am strong enough to do it. I have the physical arm and core strength to do the pose- but something mental holds me back from success. And that’s what this degree has become. The degree has become my headstand. A challenging asana that I will need to work hard on, but the lessons I will learn on the way, the discipline and strength I will need to endure, along with the focus, will undeniably change me.

So all in all, whether or not I use this degree for something in my future, its in my path now, so just like in headstand I can choose to fight it – or I can choose to let it do some work on me. I think its clear that there is only one choice.

last night i wrote a whole entry about the wedding i went to this weekend, my anxieties, and the feeling of being hooked…and i dont know how or why but it was all deleted. 

i guess everything happens for a reason.

After a yoga class one of my students once thanked me for bringing her back to life. The gratitude came from a woman I’d been helping recover from lung cancer.I don’t think she has any idea about how she brought me back to life. Tonight the same student cried during savasana because she was happy to be alive. And now the thought of that moment and all of the moments that led to tonight are causing tears to pour out of me.

I will admit, I used to be afraid of this student because she was a challenge. I was her first teacher, she had never done yoga, and she had been going through kemo when she first stepped onto the mat. She may have not had her breath or any knowledge of the practices, but she had commitment. Being in the room was always a battle for her. She was always freezing when others were sweating, she would get frustrated because she couldn’t breathe, and because of her surgery she could not really get into the flow because her injury was at the forefront of her mind. She had been off of work because of the kemo treatments so she came every morning to my yoga class in flatbush, brooklyn. Her breath used to be loud that I could hear her coming up the steps over the sounds of the morning traffic. I used to sink back a little because I was scared of her, I didn’t want to hurt her, and admittedly, I didn’t know exactly how to help her. The only thing I could do is keep my eyes open, encourage her, and listen.

Over time, we became very close and the fears drifted naturally. She became comfortable around me, and instead of being worried about her being in class, I looked forward to it. I went into the studio waiting for her to walk in with her orange jacket and smile…rain or shine. On her last day before she had to go back to work she thanked me for bringing her back to life. I remember getting on the bus that day drowning in tears. Happy ones.

Of course I have had that moment before with a yoga teacher. Many, many, yoga to the people teachers had seen me fall to pieces on the mat. Being faced with nobody but myself- sometimes it had to come out. In tough times, it came out every day. It became so natural that not crying was weird. Seriously. Before I started to teach on my own I had always admired my first teacher, hillaria. She is still my teacher but now also my friend- because she has a large enough heart to walk over to the anonymous girl balling on her yoga mat in half pigeon. I actually remember the day hillaria and I talked first. I had broken down into pieces, again, and after class she asked me to stay back. She asked what’s up, if I was okay. I told her yoga is the only thing that is helping me right now and that I loved the quotes she read after class. The poems were my therapy and the practice itself felt safe. I was embarrassed though. Of course she told me never to worry about that and offered her phone number so I could see when she was teaching and to ask for help when I was ready.

Ill never forget the feeling of belonging I had that day. In new york city, you can be sucked into the hustle and bustle so much that you forget that there are other people alive except for you. Especially when you’re going through some hard time, you are really the center of your world and the rest of the people are as noticeable as an ant on a blade of grass. The attention, and the kind words, made me feel connected to someone-to something. And I really felt joy. I remember wishing that I could one day offer that to someone else. And today, when mary was crying, I now knew how it felt to be on the other side. And really, I think this is the true joy in life.

George Bernard Shaw has a quote about this type of work being the true joy in life. “Being used for a purpose recognized by yourself as a mighty one.” I think it continues: “the being thoroughly worn out” as a force of nature “instead of a feverish selfish little clod of ailments and grievances complaining the world will not devote itself to making you happy. And as I left class tonight- that feeling of “YES” was so clear. That yes, this is the joy in life. This joy will not come out of a material thing, or while intoxicated, or while I’m isolating myself in my bedroom, or crying over someone or something that I’m trying to control in some way, and failing (because I’m meant to be). But moments like these that are just pure love- that’s real. And that’s a feeling and a lesson that I never want to forget. I hope I one day have the same feeling and courage mary had to stick with it when she was literally falling on her face. She survived cancer because she truly, loves and appreciates every moment. She is just as much my teacher as I am hers. I may have helped her breathe and got her into a warrior one, but she is teaching me how to live.