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The challenge of an interfaith marriage begins with the decision to love It is a decision that immediately puts the couple outside the traditional system, forcing them to carve a space of their own, often a space in which they are on their own.
The courtship, more often than not, is conducted clandestinely. Inevitably there is family opposition, and, when the Catholic Church is involved, once again there are no welcoming smile. It is ten years now since I went through it all, but when I look back I still feel the pain. I was warned that there was a high failure rate in interfaith marriages. (True, perhaps, but to date no statistics are available.) Further I was advised to marry under the Special Marriage Act (which has “mutual consent” as a ground for divorce), so that we could easily avail ourselves of a civil divorce should things go wrong. (Pragmatic advice, no doubt, but insensitive. And I couldn’t help wondering if entering into marriage with divorce in mind was not grounds for “defective consent”!) Finally, I was given a form to sign which used the words of the outdated Code of Canon Law, making me promise to baptise my children unconditionally, a deviation from the existing code which requires the Catholic partner to promise “to do all in his or her power in order that the all the children be baptised”. When I questioned this, I was told that this policy was laid down by the local bishop to dissuade interfaith marriages.
The wedding ceremony itself poses a challenge. Each family wants its own religious rite, and the Catholic Church insists on only a church wedding. As a result, what normally marks the coming together of two families can become the first sign of division. At the personal level, preparations for the big day are clouded by uncertainties. Although I loved Kalpesh, I remember having many fears. Would I fit into a culture that my western upbringing saw as inferior? Was I willing to accept the joint family and the loss of self it entailed? How would I cope in a community where women were mostly confined to the home? with a different language and strange food and cultural customs? How would our two families adjust to each other?
Then there were the religious expectations. How would I work out the baptism of our children? Despite the reassurances of Kalpesh and his parents, practice of my own religion was in question. I kept imagining myself being marginalised in a Hindu majority. Perhaps Sunday mass would become a mere inconvenience. Maybe I would have to play down religious celebrations. As the first bahu in a household without daughters, I would have certain religious responsibilities. Would that affect my religious affiliation? What kind of family prayer could I look forward to?
One saving grace was that there was no mention of conversion. Not all couples are so lucky. Often Catholic families will insist on the conversion of the non-Catholic partner. Alternatively a Catholic woman by virtue of her second class status may be expected to embrace her husband’s religion as part of her new life with him. It is my belief that this bid to convert stems from an inability to understand the saving grace of God in other religions. It also reflects a fear of losing one’s religious identity, for by crossing religious frontiers interfaith marriages seem to question existing religious boundaries. And of course there is the “power” issue, for interfaith couples enter into religious territory that often is outside the control of religious authority in society and in the home.
New boundaries call for new religious identities, ones which the couple have to define for themselves. When two religions are involved, the old formulas don’t work any more. Every familiar ritual and tradition is strange, sometimes even offensive, to one partner. God has to be discovered afresh. Often there is no family or community support. On the contrary, there are many “watchful eyes”, waiting to say, “We told you it wouldn’t work.”
Some may see these as problems, or may even use them to exploit more basic differences in a relationship. For those who dare to search, however, an interfaith marriage is a challenge that never fails to enrich, especially if the partners continue to respect and nurture each other’s uniqueness. The key is love, and trust in the Spirit who is an inexhaustible source of energy that continuously makes all things new.
Love and the Spirit have opened many doors for Kalpesh and me. They came in the guise of supportive friends who helped us to explore the challenges ahead, brought about healing and reconciliation, and gave us the gift of a wedding ceremony we will never forget. They were there in the response of our families who were challenged to move beyond their own desires. And sacrament or not, they were there in our midst as our two families took up the offertory gifts, as the Pandit invited my mother to give us her blessings, as Kalpesh and I took the seven pheras around the sacred fire and exchanged rings and sacred vows at the altar. They have wrought a miracle in our lives.
I laugh now when I recall my fear of being a “minority” Christian. My Hindu father-in-law, who meditates every dawn and goes for a daily teaching, makes sure I never miss Sunday mass when I stay with him. There is curiosity about my rituals, and interest in the teachings of Christ. Not a Christmas or an Easter has gone by without phone calls or cards from my Hindu cousins. Christmas cake is much in demand, and Santa Claus has gained an entry into my young nieces’ and nephews’ lives! This year Kalpesh’s parents brought in Christmas with us, and the only “home-made” sweets in our house were those made by my mother-in-law!
My family, not to be outdone, comes laden with sweets to my in-laws’ home at Diwali, even my 86-year-old mother who once objected (because it was Hindu) to a bindi (the red dot on a woman’s forehead, usually a sign of marriage, but also a symbol of shakti, or “woman power”). From a household of carnivores they have been converted into a household that not only appreciates varied vegetarian fare, but one that has learned to cook it to accommodate my Hindu family. Hindus and Christians, we are all more comfortable with each other now. We are no longer concerned about what the church or the community expects, but about how we can express our respect and love for each other.
The biggest catalysts in this transformation have been our children. My mother-in-law, a strict vegetarian, has been reduced to feeding her grandchildren chicken at a function. And at my nephew's first Holy Communion, Gayatri, just two and a half years old, drew her Hindu grandparents into the church, made a beeline for the cross, and ordered them to bow and say, “Jai-Jai.” Who could refuse her magnetic charm?
Over the years, my mother has learned to put aside her shotgun and forgive her son-in-law for stealing her daughter. A couple of years ago she accompanied us to Sri Aurobindo’s (Kalpesh’s guru’s) ashram in Pondicherry, and felt at peace. One day at home she watched three-year-old Ashutosh pick up a little book of mantras by Sri Aurobindo and the Divine Mother, and “read” aloud. Some time later her curiosity got the better of her. She picked up the book and browsed through it. “I want a copy,” she said, “I’d like to say them, but to my God.” And to think that nine years ago I was worried about her reaction to the use of Gujarati bhajans in our nuptial service!
Reaching this stage, however, has taken patience, dialogue, evolution over time, and a rootedness in the Spirit who knows no spiritual boundaries. We have been through our fights – misunderstandings, ego clashes, deep-seated prejudices. Like the time when Gayatri, when a four-year-old, dropped a bombshell: “I don’t want to hear stories about Krishna. I only want stories about Jesus. I like Jesus, because on his birthday Santa Claus brings everyone presents.” Suddenly Kalpesh was accusing, and I was on the defensive. “You know I would never say anything against Hinduism to the children. And I wouldn’t use the time I have with them to brainwash them about Christianity.” But silently I wondered. If I curb my Christian spirit for fear of offending my husband, will I not be depriving my children of a precious part of me? Must I match his neglect with mine, or challenge him to do his bit?
Obviously, if we were to prevent religious freedom from degenerating into religious bankruptcy, we had to grow ourselves, embrace each other and break the barriers limiting us. We had not only to tune in to the revealing voice of God in another religion, but examine our own “truths” by going back to the Source of all Truth, and answer some very basic questions, such as, “Who is God?”, and “What is really essential for my faith?” We had to confront our prejudices. There could be no comparisons (“Mine is the only way”) and judgements (“Idol worshippers”, “You are all obsessed with conversion”), only a respect for the human person. And finally, we had to learn not just to appreciate the other’s freedom without feeling threatened, but to celebrate our differences, for as Bishop Pierre Claverie, a contemporary martyr of Algeria, has said, “If we accept that no one possesses God, then we all have need of other people’s truth.” It is part of a process that may continue throughout our lifetime, one that requires a determined effort. For my husband and me it has meant reading, reflecting, consulting women and men in whom we experience the Spirit, experimenting, and, most important, remaining ourselves always open to the Spirit.
There are still many unanswered questions in our lives. The one that challenges us continually is, “Won’t you confuse your children, exposing them to two different religious traditions?” Interestingly, it is a question posed only by Catholics, never by Hindus. Only time will provide an answer. In the meantime we have learned some valuable lessons, not the least of which is that differences can provide occasions for growth. With love, perseverance and a willingness to understand the other’s feelings, what started out as a stress has ended up as a strength.
Facing challenges and resolving conflicts has helped us to grow as persons. It has made for a closer and more caring marital relationship. We have learned to be sensitive to each other’s feelings, to be creative in working out alternatives, to be flexible in our demands and often just to be silently patient. As a result, our lives have been enriched with a cultural and religious diversity, and God, divested of so many limiting beliefs, has become truly the Mystery which we have learned to live with humbly.
Sadly, as yet there is no place for inter-religious marriages in the institutional Church. They are discouraged, ignored and pushed to the margins – this despite the fact that such marriages are on the increase in India. In Bombay alone, in 1994 ten per cent of the marriages celebrated in Catholic churches involved a non-Catholic partner. This does not include those marriages not registered in Church because the Catholic partner cannot sign the form requiring a promise to baptise her/his children.
We urgently need to realise that interfaith marriages cannot be governed by the existing rules. The entire context is different. Where traditional marriage encourages a uniformity of worship, interfaith marriages have to make space for religious pluralism and work towards unity in diversity. We have to start from the life experience of couples and evolve new ways of experiencing Christ. We have to provide fresh guidelines that will consider the complex reality of these marriages. It is part of taking seriously our responsibility to provide pastoral care to such couples (can. 1063).
We need to offer counselling, and the opportunity to meet couples in stable interfaith marriages (can. 1064). We need a wedding liturgy that is a call to true evangelisation, inclusive of God’s presence in other religions. We need wedding vows that are respectful of all the bonds of love uniting the couple – to each other, their families, and their children yet to come. We need to make available spiritual directors who truly know and love the Spirit in other religions. Most important, we need to welcome interfaith couples. Instead of talking to them in hushed whispers, and trying to sweep them under the carpet, let us celebrate God’s gift of love to them and together search for ways of transforming it into the God-experience of a lifetime. It may be one way of making visible the presence of Christ.
Astrid Lobo Gajiwala
6.2.14-15
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Published by the Association of Interchurch Families, England
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