In Parashat Bamidbar, the different tribes take a census of their members. They counted the men who are over the age of 20. This portion also describes where Tribes should position themselves in relation to the Tabernacle. The idea of the first census resonates with me. I wonder what it feels like to be counted and to be left out.

Who is counted? And who is not? In the Parshah, all 603,550 men over the age of 20 who can fight are counted. In The Five Books of Miriam: A Women’s Commentary on the Torah, Ellen Frankel reminds her readers that the women and children are left out of this counting; the Levites are counted, but in a separate census. The “mixed multitude” that went with the Israelites out of Egypt are also not counted (Frankel 1996, p. 107). All told, Frankel counts about two million Israelites who left Egypt at the Exodus (1996, p. 107). Only a small portion of the total population counted in this census. This categorizing and organizing and numbering reminded me that I sometimes feel not counted because I am an integral part of a multifaith couple.

In the past and in the present in some synagogues, queer members are not fully accepted into their Jewish communities. We were or are invisible or linked with the what-not-to-do’s of the previous book, Leviticus. Currently, the Reform movement is comfortable naming the queer in our midst and granting us the rights once limited to heterosexuals. Queer Jews can be married to each other at most Reform and other shuls. We can be Rabbis. We can have liturgy that speaks to us. (For example, the new Siddur Sha’ar Zahav is an entirely LGBT-normative book). But as a Queer Jew in a multifaith relationship, I often do not feel the same respect or membership that other Queer Jews have been granted.

I fell in love with Melissa shortly after I met her, almost three years ago. I was drawn to her and yet, I felt that loving a non-Jew meant that I was, in a way, betraying my parents and the ways of my people. After all, as a child, I grew up knowing that I would “marry a nice Jewish boy,” and after I came out as a lesbian that I would surely “marry a nice Jewish girl.” Instead, I am troubled that I am engaged to marry a nice Shiksa, who is not only not Jewish but is a minister in a Christian faith and a Christian scholar.

I grew up with the idea that I will marry and that my partner and I will both be members of our synagogue. Instead, I am in love with a woman who cannot be a member of my synagogue as she is “actively practicing another religion.” She can attend services, and she does occasionally, but she can never be a true member. Whereas I can attend “for members only” events, she will never be invited. Melissa is listed as my partner in the membership directory. Melissa and I sit up late at night talking about religion and worship and the ins and outs of how religion plays a part in our lives. It is Melissa with whom I talk about my desire to have Jewish children and it is Melissa who daily encourages me to fully embrace my Jewish identity. Yet Melissa remains an outsider; and despite my active participation in synagogue life, I too have sometimes become an outsider in my own community.

I struggle with being counted. Being counted as a Jew can be reminiscent of the Holocaust where being recognized and numbered as Jewish was a prerequisite to being rounded up and slaughtered . To me, however, being counted has a different connotation. It is about being made visible – recognized. Melissa is a Christian and I am a Jew. Neither one of us wishes to convert, for we have each found a religion that speaks to us, in which we struggle to find our place, and with which we feel connected.

I long to stay connected to Judaism and to Congregation Sha’ar Zahav (San Francisco). When interfaith events happen, I often become excited and then, upon reading further into their text, realize that these events involve Jewish ritual and only Jewish ritual. I long for more multi-faith events where both Melissa and I can mingle our rituals and be around people who recognize the ways we are a stronger couple when both of our traditions are practiced and honored.

I am not perfect. After three years, I am still learning about how to be in a multi-faith relationship. While Melissa and I speak often about the future, I wish that there were a guide on how to be Jewish and connected to my community as a Queer Jew in a multi-faith relationship.

I wish that there were a place that I could go to talk about the situations I’ve encountered both at my shul and away from it. I would love to talk with others about how to respond to insensitive people who, when they learn that I’m dating a minister, ask when I am converting to Christianity or when she will convert to Judaism. I’ve also been berated for dating outside the Tribe. Fellow congregants invite me, in front of Melissa, to a “members only” event but they don’t invite her and they don’t explain why. At times like these, I feel pulled away from Judaism and from wanting to partake in congregational life. I feel a rush of sadness. I wonder what it will be like to have children with my beloved. I want them to feel like our family is welcomed into a Jewish congregation (and in addition, as a part of a Lutheran church).

And then, I’ve had some wonderful moments when I have felt dedicated to being a strong participant at my synagogue. I’ve felt known here and loved and supported by my community when I’ve had long meaningful conversations or experienced our religious rituals. I’ve felt challenged and encouraged and most of all, at times, I’ve felt seen and counted.

I am curious if you saw me at shul, how you would approach me? Would you welcome me to the bimah? Would you have my partner and I light the Shabbat candles like you do with other engaged couples? Would you welcome my future children? How would you treat my partner? And finally, I wonder (in a similar was as to how the tribes moved to where they stood in relation to the tabernacle) where I stand in relation to my Jewish faith and my community?

May there be a time when all those who identify as Jewish and ALL the ones who love them, feel welcomed and honored in Jewish communities near and far. Cain Yeherazon. May this be so.

Abigail “Abi” Weissman is a Clinical Psychology doctoral candidate at Argosy University in the San Francisco Bay Area. Her dissertation is on people who identify as Jewish and as transgender. She is an LGBTQQI-welcoming therapist who strives to be a helpful, authentic, and multiculturally-aware clinician. She also has an MA in Human Sexuality studies from San Francisco State University where she focused on femme lesbian identity in erotica literature. She adores her family, friends, and partner, Melissa.

My LGBTQ synagogue, Beth Chayim Chadashim (BCC) in Los Angeles has a member who is a Bishop in a Christian denomination. He and his Jewish husband have been together 51 years, and they have both been members of our congregation for many years and participate fully.

The Sholem Community (sholem.org) in Los Angeles welcomes multifaith couples and queer couples. check it out.

Hi Abi, I am active in my shul and very connected to Jewish practice. My partner of 18 years has an MDiv and is active in her church. We have two boys (11 and 8 years old) and are constantly working together to figure out how our respective connections to our own faith/practice inform our home practices, the boys' religious education etc. With one outstanding exception, we have not had great support from rabbis. We wrote a piece about this journey for Our Family Coalition's newsletter last winter. I would be happy to connect with you, we live in Berkeley--how does that happen?

Dear Abi, Shabbat Shalom to you. I will sincerely comment to some of your statements with a ** "But as a Queer Jew in a multifaith relationship, I often do not feel the same respect or membership that other Queer Jews have been granted." **Have you spoken to your Rabbi & religious leaders about feelings you are posting here? If I have problems or issues with people in my Temple, I go directly to them first, including my Rabbi. Sharing personal issues with strangers on the internet, I would consider 'la'shon hara' (bad speech), especially because you name the shul you go to. I suggest you share your feelings with people who have offended you, and remember you do have choices in life. You can choose to stay where you are not happy, or find another shul to go to where you feel more welcome...not every Temple is for every Jewess, you must find a 'home' where you feel like a part of the family. "...Instead, I am troubled that I am engaged to marry a nice Shiksa," **I am shocked that I even read this term 'shiksa'in your commentary. OY! *sigh* "Yet Melissa remains an outsider; and despite my active participation in synagogue life, I too have sometimes become an outsider in my own community." **You don't have to be an outsider. Find a place where you feel included. But before you do, I suggest you confront people that you refer to in this commentary. I am the 'shamasheet' in my Temple, and have attended for 8 years. In my time there, if I have a problem with my Rabbi or fellow congregants, I deal with the situation at the time and talk to the person directly. I move on. We are a smaller community, so I think that actually helps people to be more accepting and inclusive. Also I would never be a member at a shul where there are 'member only' events. In my shul that is unheard of! In ALL of our events outsiders are always welcome. I would never be a member at a shul where I couldn't bring my partner to an event. Nope... I long to stay connected to Judaism and to Congregation Sha’ar Zahav (San Francisco). **Since you are naming the shul that you are referring to, I assume you will forward this letter to the board and your Rabbi? I hold nothing back from my Rabbi or other members if I feel offended etc. But that rarely has happened. Only a few problems in 8 years. I am lucky I guess. All that I do for my shul and for my Rabbi, I do cuz I want to!:) I love my Rabbi, she is awesome, and I tell her whatever is on my mind, and sometimes we disagree, and that is ok. I respect her, she lives what she believes, she is very inclusive, has much 'hesed' and is a woman I highly admire! When I get married, or have a commitment ceremony with my partner, my Rabbi will do it. Since she is not Jewish, it will not be in the Temple, nor would my partner want it to be LOL... My partner is agnostic, supports my involvement in my shul and respects my Jewish practices at home. Abi, may you be happy with your partner, and may you find a place where you feel you belong religiously Jewishly, and may you also ind a place where you and she can share both of your religions. There has to be a place! Shabbat Shalom. Sincerely, SassyNorcalFemme@yahoo.com

I was a non-Jewish partner before my conversion. In our Reconstructionist shul, married interfaith couples are accepted as a unit for family membership, and before same-sex marriage was legal, committed LGBTQ couples were accepted as married. I'm wondering if this is possible in your synagogue.

Asa member of BCC in L.A, I am shocked that your non-Jewish partner is not welcomed at members events. I have been partnered with a non-Jew for 39 years. Since I joined the synagogue over 25 years ago, I noticed how all the interfaith partners of members are always welcomed at all events, even if one's partner serves as a clergy member of another faith. Have you spoken to your temple Board or clergy about your feelings? Just because some members of the congregation have said very hurtful and alienating things to you does not mean that such is "official policy."

I'm Jewish and transgender. I'm accepted at my Orthodox shul and am pretty frum. I am not in a relationship and know that would be frowned upon, but I feel compelled to serve Hashem and so I'm not seeking one. As much as it bothers me sometimes, the laws always seem to win. I do put forward the argument that maybe my neshama is female and my biology just did not match. According to kabbalah these things happen when there is turmoil in the spiritual world. Unfortunately, as understanding and inclusive as my Rabbi is he can't possibly ignore halacha, and so though he has voiced many times he wishes my life could be easier it's not something he or I can change. If I get there before candle lighting on yontif or Shabbat the Rebbetzen always asks me to light candles and I have a good relationship with my Rabbi.