Rabbi Gutman,
I am a 30 year old Persian-Jew. I come from a conservative Jewish
family. I go to temple almost every Shabbat. I keep ***her with regards
to meat and chicken. I am very close with my family.
Four months ago I met a secular Muslim Persian girl, a year older
than me. When I say secular, she actually celebrates Christmas and
doesn't celebrate any Muslim holidays. Please keep in mind I am very
Zionist. Anyways, I am ashamed to admit this but I have had relations
with her.
I know I'm a Zionist, I am a proud Jew, I keep kosher, I go to
temple all the time, I celebrate all the Jewish holidays...but Rabbi, I
am in love with her, and it kills me. I have never clicked with anyone
so much. I know I can't be with her, and I've told her that. I told her
marriage is impossible. She wants to convert but I told her no, because
my parents would kill me, and because I don’t want to be with someone
who converts to Judaism for me, but I want to be with someone Jewish, or
someone who converts for G-d, not me. I have explained to her, that it
is not fair to her, that I can never eat meat at her parent’s house. I
have explained to her I don't want my kids around Christmas trees, or
anything related to Christmas, and that this is not fair to her parents,
because this is something they love to do.
Please give me some guidance. I cry every night when I sleep, and I
feel dead. I know it is very wrong that we have had sexual relations.
Not counting that, she is an amazing girl. I would die for her. I know I
can't marry her, but sometimes in the back of my head, I think about
it...I think what if she converts, and I can teach her Judaism. But then
I tell myself "be realistic!" Please Rabbi, help me. I don't want to
keep crying and be depressed.
Thank you and Shabbat Shalom!
--D
Shalom D,
I am very glad that you wrote to me. I admire you for knowing that
you cannot marry that girl. She may or may not be a great person but, as
you well know, you cannot marry a non Jewish girl, and certainly not an
Iranian non Jew, or it would destroy your family. You have placed your
love for your family and Torah above the great pull of your physical
desires. G-d will bless you for this, and will give you a wonderful wife
as soon as you are ready.
If you really love that girl you will want to do what is best for
her (and for you). You should leave her so she will be able to find a
nice Iranian man in her church so she can marry and make a nice family.
As you know her family and yours would not be compatible. To even
think of bringing them into your parents’ home would be a disaster. You
love your mother and father and do not want to cause them grief.
What I suggest to you is for you to part from her for 90 days and
give both of you some breathing space, and then see what happens.
During these 90 days you should visit every rabbi in the entire area
and have them introduce you to the nice young available Jewish girls.
Within a month or two you will have met some 20 nice girls to choose
from.
Obviously, if you sit at home alone you will miss the physical
relationship with the non Jewish girl, and you will call her every time
you get lonely.
To be frank with you, I am surprised that you could even consider
the possibility of bringing her Iranian Muslim family into your parents’
home, after your family has escaped from the Iranian Muslim cruelty!
This shows you the great power that the animal instinct has over common
sense.
I really feel that G-d is going to bless you for not giving in to
the strong pull of your eyes and heart, and not marrying her, but by
insisting on doing the best thing for everyone.
Take my advice and go look for that girl who right now is also looking for you.
Send me good news real soon
Be well,
Reb Gutman
"My parents, brother, and I left Iran in 1980, shortly after the revolution. After a brief stay in Italy, we packed all our belongings once again and headed west to the exotic and the unknown: Vancouver. We had recently been accepted as landed immigrants, meaning Canada graciously opened its doors and we gratefully accepted; we arrived at Vancouver International Airport on my 10th birthday, three suitcases and one sewing machine in tow. After respectful but intense questioning at immigration, we were dropped off at a hotel on Robson Street, which was then still a couple years shy of becoming the fashionable tourist hub it is today. We were jetlagged, culture shocked, and hungry, so that first night, my father and brother courageously ventured out into the wild in search of provisions. I fell asleep before they returned. The next morning, I woke up at 5 a.m. and ravenously feasted on a cold Quarter Pounder with cheese and limp French fries that had been left by my beds...

Comments
Post a Comment