Same Difference
It is the morning of Christmas Eve. I open my Facebook page and fill in the blank next to my name so that it reads, Ona Gritz, a nice Jewish Girl, is really looking forward to going to church this evening with the Goy she loves. Dan has sent me information on the church he picked out for us and it looks lovely. Across from Rittenhouse Square, my favorite park in Philadelphia, the Church of The Holy Trinity describes itself as “a community where faith and doubt, affirmation and hesitation may be expressed in a safe environment with a view to deepening the spiritual life.” I’m as touched by the warmth and openness of that statement as I am by Dan’s determined effort to find Christmas services where I’ll be most comfortable.
Last year Dan and I attended a different church in Philadelphia on Christmas Eve. We were treated to beautiful organ and choral music but, unfortunately, the sermon that followed was dry and exclusionary. And the Jews did not recognize Him, the pastor railed. I wriggled in my seat. As a Jew, I recognize Jesus in my own way, as a brilliant charismatic rabbi and a peace-loving member of my tribe. I also see him as an incarnation of God, but I see all of us that way, so in that sense the pastor had a point. What put me off most about his sermon was the insistence that there was one right spiritual view. When it was time to say Amen, I couldn’t help myself. Oy vey came out of my mouth instead.
With that rare exception, I always enjoy attending holiday services with Dan. I love how he squeezes my hand when he finds something in a sermon meaningful and how he lights up at the resonant sound of the organ. Watching his face while he sings the hymns in his beautiful baritone, I feel the spiritual connection we share as lovers, an invisible thread that binds us as we stand silently side by side.
Is he Jewish? my father used to ask when he heard about a new man in my life. The last guy I told him about was Italian. My father, ill in the hospital at the time, smiled and waved his hand in a playfully dismissive gesture.
“Jewish, Italian,” he said. “Aah, same thing.”
It’s an old joke that Jews and Italians are similar culturally, though I’m not entirely sure on what this is based. The best I can come up with is that we’re both known for being passionate and confrontational, and for eating lots of starch.
When I first met Dan, I imagined my father asking, Is he Jewish? Though had my parents been alive at the time, I’m fairly sure they’d have found Dan’s being blind more troubling than his being Protestant.
“I’m so glad Ona has someone to take care of her,” my mother gushed when I brought Ethan’s future dad — Richard — to meet her.
A feminist and hotheaded Jewish girl, I burst out, “How can you say that? I don’t need a man to take care of me!”
Looking back, I realize my mother wouldn’t have encountered many examples of women with disabilities making it on their own. With this weighing on her mind, I can see how she’d have taken in Richard’s strong athletic body and confident demeanor and felt relief at the thought of me in his capable hands. This leads me to believe that had she and my father lived to see me fall in love with Dan, their first thought would have been, who’s going to take care of them?
I’m not physically strong. He can’t see. I don’t drive a car; obviously, neither does he. It’s understandable that they would worry. You two will have a hard life together, I imagine my mother warning me. Be practical for once, my father would probably say.
And yet I’m certain my parents would have eventually come to love Dan. First, they’d notice how much we have in common. We both love music and literature, passions I inherited from my mom. Before long, they’d discover that Dan’s as practical a person as my father. They’d also see how good he is to Ethan and that would seal the deal.
One reason parents encourage their children to choose partners within their faith is in the hope that the couple will have enough common ground to truly understand one another. Dan and I share that deep comprehension through disability. We both know from the inside out what it’s like to live with difference. We’ve each had the experience of being underestimated by well-meaning strangers and friends. This is precisely why we’re so adept at taking care of each other. We know when and how to help each other and when to stand back and let the other fumble. It’s true that the specifics of our disabilities are nothing alike. Again, it’s like our two religions in that way. The details are different, but if you focus on what the lessons are and the part they’ve played in forming each of us, at the core they’re very much the same.
Just last weekend, Dan and I helped each other negotiate the streets of Philadelphia in the midst of a record-breaking blizzard. Where I could, I guided Dan around huge snowdrifts. When we had no choice but to plunge through them, I relied on his strength and steadiness to keep me upright. And when we did fall down, we fell down laughing. I wish my parents could have seen us.
“Blind, schmind,” I imagine my father saying, waving a playful dismissive hand.
6 replies on “Same Difference”
Dear Ona. While i’m sure that Dan is a wonderful guy you don’t belong in a church honey. Its time that you learned something more about your own story and figure out where you do belong. If someone had handed you a million bucks you wouldn’t piss it away. Well Judaism is worth a lot more than a million bucks. Best of luck Carol
Wow, Carol! That’s amazingly one-dimensional of you, particularly as Ona is speaking of sharing an experience with her beloved, not joining his faith. Yes, I understand the history and realities behind your comment but still, you seemed to have missed her main points, stopping at the word “church.”
An open heart and open mind full of love is a beautiful thing. If more of us were like Ona the world would be a better place. I am Jewish and my husband grew up Catholic. We raise our children Jewish and we have come to love each others similarities and differences. I use to go to Christmas Mass with my Step Father (Catholic Italian) at St. Patricks Cathedral. As Jewish as I am that was one of the most beautiful experiences. Looked forward to sharing the time with my step dad. You do not have to convert to appreciate spirituality. Being tolerant and willing to learn about our neighborgs and loved ones brings us closer.
I loved this article Ona. Do you have a blog? I would love to read your writing more regularly. I enjoyed the article I read about you recently in More…at least, I think it was More. That’s the magazine I read most frequently, although I have to bypass all the plastic surgery articles!
My oldest son was a 24-week preemie, and I was curious whether you were a preemie as well (because I know that prematurity is often the cause of CP).
I love the fact that you and your husband are able to respect each other’s faiths and find a way to meld them together. I view Jesus in the same way that you do, and I’m a Christian (although an unconventional one at that!).
Thanks for your beautiful writing!
Marie
Carol, Ona seems pretty knowledgeable and secure in her beliefs – secure enough to recognize other people’s beliefs without passing cruel judgment. If you are that afraid of exposure to different points of view, maybe you do not believe in your own religion strongly enough?
You seem reactionary and need to open your eyes and heart a bit more. I didn’t hear Ona say anything about converting. I suppose you would like to give Dan a tour of your Temple one of these days?
Anyway, great column, Ona! So well written and I laughed a few times, especially in the beginning (the oy vey comment etc.)
One writerly suggestion – I think you should say who Ethan and Richard are on first reference, for those who haven’t been following your columns serially. (It was a bit murky. I know who they are, but the average reader may not.)
what a beautiful article! Making peace with your parents while making choices that are truly your own.