Ever since I argued that the rabbis’ wives’ letter, which warned Jewish women to stay away from Arabs, is an embarrassing disgrace, I heard the above question in 200 different versions, yet every time it was hurled at me with the same victorious, all-knowing tone, as if the debate was over there.
The answer is no. I would not be happy if my daughter married an Arab, just like I would not be happy if she married a catholic, a Pakistani Muslim, or Knesset Member Michael Ben-Ari; I admit that I would not want her to marry a Scotsman either, because the notion of men in skirts seems odd to me, at least until summer returns and I have a chance to tan my legs.
The liberals will surely argue that every person has the right to fall in love with no regard to religion, creed or gender, but I am not that liberal. Instead, I tell my children that the fact we are Jews who live in Israel is not a geographic or historical mishap. They are part of a dynasty, an idea, a spiritual relay race where they must not drop the baton. Besides, marriage is a complicated business as it is, so it’s better to marry someone who at least knows exactly what a Seder is and realizes that Treblinka is not a ski resort.
However, the debate is not over there. Not at all.
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