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How Judy Blume’s ‘Are You There God? It’s Me, Margaret’ broke taboos around interfaith marriage
(JTA) — When Judy Blume’s young adult novel “Are You There God? It’s Me, Margaret” appeared in 1970, intermarried families were a small segment of the American Jewish population. Perhaps 17% of Jews were married to someone who wasn’t Jewish; today, 42% of married Jews have a spouse who is not Jewish, and in the past decade, 61% of Jews married non-Jewish partners.
Through the 1960s, middle-grade and young adult fiction rarely acknowledged the existence of these families, reflecting and reinforcing their outsider status. Today it is routine for authors to address the reality of inter-religious and culturally mixed families, portraying them with insight and compassion. (See “Not Your All-American Girl” by Wendy Wan-Long Shang and Madelyn Rosenberg, “Becoming Brianna” by Terri Libenson and “The Whole Story of Half a Girl” by Veera Hiranandani.)
This change was made possible partly by Blume’s story of sixth-grader Margaret Simon and her one-sided conversations with God.
Blume’s status as a pioneer in young adult literature is usually associated with her honest approach to the emotional, physical and sexual milestones of growing up, with her works still attracting readers and still finding an honored place on lists of banned books. That legacy is being celebrated in April with a new documentary, Amazon Prime Video’s “Judy Blume Forever,” and a theatrical release by Lionsgate of a feature film version of “Are You There God?”
Yet her treatment of contested identity in intermarried families is as revolutionary as her openness about bras, menstruation and sexual feelings. Actors Lena Dunham and Molly Ringwald, comedian Samantha Bee and many authors, including Raina Telgemeier, Tayari Jones and Gary Shteyngart, have cited Blume’s influence on both their lives and their work. Book lists for intermarried families frequently list the novel as a resource.
Margaret Simon is 11 years old at the start of “Are You There God?” Her Jewish dad and Christian mom have pointedly ignored the possibility that their daughter might have questions about her identity. Along with other issues of teen angst, she feels compelled to decide if she is Jewish, Christian or neither. Without any guidance, the last alternative leaves her in a frightening void. As she pointedly asks God, in her ongoing series of questions for Him, “I can’t go on being nothing forever, can I?”
Margaret’s parents, Barbara Hutchins and Herb Simon, fell in love and defied their respective parents by marrying out of their faiths. They assure Margaret that she has no religion, but can choose one when she is older, oblivious to the fact that this solution seems more of a burden than a promise of future freedom. Their avoidance of any serious engagement with either religion or culture renders any possible choice unlikely.
Blume situates Margaret’s search within the specific landscape of post-World War II America. When the Simons decide to leave their Upper West Side home in New York City and move to suburban New Jersey, their decision suggests a coded reference to their religious status. Long Island is “too social,” an implied euphemism for “too Jewish.” Living there might have made it harder for their relatively unusual situation to be discreetly ignored. On the other hand, the more affluent Westchester and Connecticut are “too expensive” and “too inconvenient.” Farbrook, New Jersey has enough Jews for it to feel right for Herb, but not so many as to make their mixed family stand out.
Margaret also suspects that her parents’ are determined to put distance between the Simons and Sylvia, her paternal grandmother, who lives in New York City. This gregarious woman shows up at their new home unannounced and toting deli foods, making it clear that Margaret’s one unambiguous connection to Judaism is not going to disappear. While Barbara’s parents utterly rejected her when she married a Jew, Sylvia has pragmatically decided to accept what she cannot change. In the postwar era, more Jews began to abandon or minimize religious practice, while still maintaining ethnically distinct customs. Like holiday observance or synagogue attendance, ethnic Jewish culture is also absent from the Simon home. Sylvia’s Jewish food, her frequent trips to Florida, even her combination of sarcasm and smothering warmth, provide Margaret with markers of the tradition her parents have eschewed.
Still, when Sylvia repeatedly asks Margaret if her (nonexistent) boyfriends are Jewish, the young girl is baffled. Given her own lack of consciousness of herself as Jewish, why would Margaret care?
Rachel McAdams and Abby Ryder Fortson in the forthcoming film adaptation of “Are You There God? It’s Me, Margaret.” (Dana Hawley/Lionsgate © 2022)
In the larger world of Farbrook, Margaret’s new friends seem to have more secure identities, conveniently defined by membership either in the “Y” (Young Men’s Christian Association) or the Jewish Community Center. Perfunctory attendance at Hebrew school until after one’s bar mitzvah is the furthest extent of her peers’ Jewishness. Margaret explains that her parents are “nothing” and that, prior to their marriage, they were Jewish and Christian, as if those identities could be cast off like an article of clothing. When Mr. Benedict, her enthusiastic young teacher, distributes a questionnaire, Margaret completes the prompt “I hate” with “religious holidays.” He attempts to draw her out about this troubling answer, and she scornfully observes that her teacher acted as if “he had uncovered some deep, dark mystery.”
On one level, he has. Her mother’s blandly universal definition of God as a “nice idea,” who “belongs to everybody,” is clearly a denial of the fractures in her family members’ lives.
Blume also captures the essence of mid-century non-Orthodox Judaism as comfortably accessible, yet also somewhat empty. On a visit to Grandma Sylvia’s elegant temple, the atmosphere is quietly decorous, the sanctuary filled with well-appointed congregants and beautifully arranged flowers. Sylvia’s rabbi greets Margaret with an enthusiastic “Good Yom Tov,” which he translates as “Happy New Year,” although it is actually a generic holiday greeting.
When Margaret later visits Presbyterian and Methodist churches, she notes the remarkable similarity among all three experiences.
The novel’s one incident of specific religious practice involves Margaret’s brief, unfinished confession in a classmate’s Catholic church. Having participated in bullying, Margaret tries to assuage her guilt through a ritual alien to both her father’s Judaism and her mother’s Protestant Christianity. She even momentarily confuses the priest with the silent God of her conversations. Nothing could be further from her parents’ rejection of religion, or from Grandma Sylvia’s loving assurance to Margaret that “I knew you were a Jewish girl at heart.”
When Margaret’s Christian grandparents decide to resume contact, the suppressed anger in the Simon home finally erupts. Herb is furious, and accuses his in-laws of only wanting to meet Margaret “to make sure she doesn’t have horns!” — a caustic reference to a persistent antisemitic myth. Blume had subtly foreshadowed this disruption of the status quo in a parallel event at school. When a Jewish student, backed by his parents, refuses to sing Christmas carols, the implicit agreement of the town’s Jews to quietly conform is broken. A Christian girl, in what seems an act of retaliation, then refuses to sing Hanukkah songs. These acts of resistance reinforce Margaret’s marginal status. Her intermarried family represents neither conformity with postwar norms nor an assertion of Jewish pride.
Blume appears to tip the scales in her portrayal of Mary and Paul Hutchins, Margaret’s maternal grandparents. Entirely unlikeable, simultaneously pushy and cold, they insist that the granddaughter they had never acknowledged is Christian. After their failed visit, Grandma Sylvia returns, along with her sweet and obviously Jewish new boyfriend, Mr. Binamin (“rhymes with cinnamon”). Readers rooting for the triumph of Margaret’s Jewish roots may breathe a sigh of relief here, but hope for a satisfying ending is illusory. Margaret’s search for a stable sense of self is still unfinished, and will not be satisfied by choosing membership in either the Y or the JCC.
For young readers, the novel’s discussion of religious identity proved as life-changing as its honest portrayal of puberty and menstruation. “I related to that kind of conflict of religion,” the comedian Chelsea Handler, who grew up in a mixed Jewish-Mormon home, told Blume in 2020. “At that time, I just found out my mom was Mormon, on top of thinking she was Jewish, and your books were such a reprieve for me and such a joy.”
More than 50 years ago, Judy Blume tackled a difficult subject, about both changing demographics and the search for authenticity in American Jewish life. Margaret’s conclusion that “twelve is very late to learn” about the essence of who you are still poses a challenge, while her persistent search for a meaningful identity offers a degree of optimism.
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The Gaza International Stabilization Force Can Be the IDF
A Red Cross vehicle, escorted by a van driven by a Hamas terrorist, moves in an area within the so-called “yellow line” to which Israeli troops withdrew under the ceasefire, as Hamas says it continues to search for the bodies of deceased hostages seized during the Oct. 7, 2023, attack on Israel, in Gaza City, Nov. 12, 2025. Photo: REUTERS/Dawoud Abu Alk
On December 29, Israeli Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu will meet with US President Donald Trump to weigh options for implementing Phase 2 of the Gaza ceasefire plan, which was endorsed by UN Security Council Resolution 2803.
The most urgent task in Phase 2 is addressed by the resolution at Section 7. The provision urges the many interested parties — called Member States — to organize an International Stabilization Force (ISF) that will disarm Hamas and demilitarize Gaza.
It won’t be easy. Most Member States are unwilling or reluctant to commit troops to the ISF. Others suggest the ISF should be a mere monitoring group similar to the UN peacekeepers in Lebanon. However, those “blue helmets” did nothing to disarm the Lebanese-based Hezbollah terrorist group, or to demilitarize its zone of operations.
The only fighting force with the demonstrated motivation and ability to execute the mandated mission of disarmament and demilitarization is the Israeli Defense Forces (IDF). The IDF nearly defeated Hamas in October, but stopped at Hamas’ last stronghold when the ceasefire deal was signed.
Section 7 does not mention whether the ISF may be composed of just a single state. The authors expected a multinational ISF, perhaps because they believed the involvement of a few Muslim states would act as a buffer against perceived IDF aggression. On the other hand, the text of Section 7 may be reasonably interpreted to permit a delegation of the ISF’s entire workload to the IDF.
To begin with, Section 7 requires the ISF to “use all necessary measures” to achieve the military objectives of Phase 2. Member States may comply with this clause by empowering the IDF to disarm Hamas and demilitarize Gaza. The wording does not require the use of force to be conducted by a minimum number of Member States.
Next, Section 7 compels the ISF to work “in close cooperation” with Egypt and Israel. Assembling the ISF from the ranks of Israel’s own army would help cement such cross-border cooperation.
The section also instructs the ISF to “train and support vetted Palestinian police forces.” No military unit is more fit for that function than the IDF, based on its decades of interactions with the Palestinian police.
A related operational factor supports the concept of an ISF staffed by IDF troops. The IDF maintains crucial contacts with anti-Hamas militias in Gaza. Those resistance fighters know the complex urban terrain, and they command respect among area civilians. Including them in the ISF mission would be a strong force multiplier.
In an IDF-as-ISF model, the funding mechanism of Section 7 would remain unchanged. Member states and other donors would simply direct their “voluntary contributions” to Israel instead of some other ISF incarnation. A Member State that refuses to contribute funding could be excluded from the multinational Board of Peace, which the UN resolution envisions as Gaza’s transitional government.
Section 7 states that when Gaza reaches the point of “control and stability,” the IDF must withdraw to a designated “security perimeter presence” in the enclave. Some may fear that awarding the ISF function to the IDF would incentivize Israel to occupy all of Gaza, and potentially extend sovereignty to the domain, with no admission of control or stability. However, Section 7 already stipulates that the withdrawal milestone must be determined jointly by a diverse group of decision-makers, including not only the IDF but the US, Egypt, Qatar, and Turkey.
Finally, giving the ISF role to the IDF would help ensure the Phase 2 goals are met “without delay,” as demanded by the resolution at Section 1. Hamas has already caused weeks of delay by dragging out the hostage return process required by the first phase of the ceasefire plan. The procrastination enabled Hamas to consolidate its power. For example, the terror group recruited more fighters, converted al-Nasser Hospital into a prison to torture dissidents, and wrangled more funding from its terrorist patron, Iran. Consequently, it will now take more time to disarm the group and demilitarize the enclave. Waiting even longer to attain the unrealistic dream of a multi-state ISF would cause even more delay. The setback would not only embolden Hamas but prolong the suffering of Gaza’s war-torn civilian population.
It’s likely that many UN member states would reject this plan, because it’s not what they believed they signed onto. But so far, none of them has put forth a better or more realistic alternative. Moderate states don’t want to send troops, and extremist states like Turkey (which supports Hamas) cannot be allowed to.
No amount of UN resolutions will help Gaza recover from the Hamas-initiated war until Hamas is defanged and its terrorist stronghold is demolished. That dirty work may not be popular, but it must be done. Otherwise, Hamas will continue to exploit Gaza as a launching pad for its ruinous attacks.
Joel M. Margolis is the Legal Commentator, American Association of Jewish Lawyers and Jurists, US Affiliate of the International Association of Jewish Lawyers and Jurists. His 2001 book, “The Israeli-Palestinian Legal War,” analyzed the major legal issues in the Israeli-Palestinian conflict. Previously he worked as a telecommunications lawyer in both the public and private sectors.
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A Gazan Warehouse of Baby Formula Exposes Hamas Was Withholding Food From Children
The New York Times building in New York City. Photo: Wikimedia Commons
Throughout the summer of 2025, doctors in Gaza repeatedly warned that babies were going hungry due to a shortage of infant formula. These claims were amplified across global media and social platforms, often delivered in dramatic appeals for urgent international intervention. Over time, the narrative became one of the most prominent humanitarian storylines of the season.
The New York Times wrote that “Parents in Gaza Are Running Out of Ways to Feed Their Children,” and The Guardian urged action as babies were “at risk of death from lack of formula.”
Perhaps most widely known were the stories of malnourished children in Gaza whose gaunt images dominated front pages around the world. Families of these young children pleaded for international intervention, saying they had “no formula, no supplements, no vitamins” to feed their babies.
Although some of these children were later reported to have had pre-existing medical conditions that contributed to their malnourishment, much of the media continued to advance a narrative suggesting that Israel was deliberately targeting children by restricting adequate humanitarian aid to Gaza.
Israel, however, consistently maintained that there was a steady supply of infant formula entering Gaza. At the height of the media frenzy over alleged starvation, Israeli records showed that more than 1,400 tons of baby formula, including specialized formulations for infants with medical needs, had been delivered into the Strip.
So where was all the formula?
In Hamas-controlled warehouses.
This week, anti-Hamas activists exposed a storage facility operated by the Hamas-run Gaza Ministry of Health stocked with large quantities of baby formula and nutritional supplements intended for children — supplies that had never reached the families featured in international headlines.
This is the terror organization Israel has been fighting for the past two years, and precisely why its removal from power in Gaza remains a central condition of any lasting ceasefire.
Hamas’ campaign is not driven solely by hostility toward Israel, but by a calculated willingness to endanger its own civilians to advance its goal of dismantling the Jewish State. That strategy has included obstructing or diverting humanitarian aid when it suited its aims — even when the victims were children.
By placing Gazan lives in harm’s way and exploiting their suffering, Hamas weaponized heartbreaking images to sway global opinion against Israel. In the process, it manipulated media narratives while evading responsibility for the humanitarian consequences of its own actions. Tragically, it did so with considerable success.
The same outlets that aggressively promoted the claim that Israel was withholding aid and deliberately starving children by blocking access to infant formula have since gone conspicuously silent. A story that once dominated front pages around the world has virtually disappeared now that evidence has emerged showing that Israel was not the perpetrator.
Hamas manipulated the media — and it worked. By laundering terrorist propaganda through headlines, imagery, and selective outrage, then declining to correct the record once that narrative unraveled, major outlets exposed how vulnerable they are to manipulation when facts complicate preferred storylines.
Hamas has been the agitator all along, recklessly endangering both Palestinian and Israeli lives. It is time the media confront that reality and their role in falsely accusing Israel of starving innocent Palestinians.
The author is a contributor to HonestReporting, a Jerusalem-based media watchdog with a focus on antisemitism and anti-Israel bias — where a version of this article first appeared.
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An Emerging Crisis: Fighting Antisemitism in the Mental Health Professions
The personal belongings of festival-goers are seen at the site of an attack on the Nova Festival by Hamas terrorists from Gaza, near Israel’s border with the Gaza Strip, in southern Israel, Oct. 12, 2023. Photo: REUTERS/Ronen Zvulun
In a mental health professional network, an article was posted about how Jews faced discrimination in the profession.
There were over 250 comments in less than 8 hours, mostly attacking Jews and/or Zionists.
In an announcement for a training session being led by one of us, there were over 500 explicitly antisemitic comments in an hour on Reddit.
An article published about the impact of antisemitism on the mental health of Jews in America received hundreds of political comments about the Israel-Hamas war, rather than any discussion of clinical implications
An Orthodox Jewish psychologist organized a series of speakers, and one invited professional demanded that all attendees sign a declaration condemning the current Israeli government.
And, at the annual meeting of the American Psychological Association (APA), professional listserv postings urged attendees to wear keffiyehs and read a “land and genocide statement” before their presentations. Some presentations included Hamas propaganda.
These examples are not indicative of legitimate academic rhetoric — they are evidence of the field’s growing animus towards Jews.
Two factors help explain how mental health professionals feel comfortable discriminating against Jewish colleagues.
The first is the rapid embrace of a widely endorsed but empirically unsupported treatment model, decolonial therapy (DT). DT emphasizes the role of historical oppression on the development and perpetuation of intergenerational trauma. It explicitly blends clinical work with activism, urging clinicians and clients to engage politically in and out of therapy.
The activism in DT frames Zionism as oppression and psychopathology. For example, one of the leading proponents of DT has tied Zionism to genocidal intent, misogynoir, and fascism. Another prominent figure has referred to Zionism as psychosis and defended the murder of two Israeli Embassy employees in May.
Instead of condemnation from members of the profession, these practitioners have been celebrated by the leaders of the DT movement, hold leadership positions, and receive speaking invitations.
Left-wing identitarianism has also led to the explosion of antisemitism in the mental health professions. Unlike the purity demands of white European identity that are the basis of right-wing identitarianism, left-wing identitarianism demands strict ideological purity. This includes framing Jews as oppressors and Zionism as a form of mental illness and oppression.
This framework justifies aggression against Jews while also valorizing violence and terrorism committed by Hamas. These patterns within the mental health field prompted a sitting Democratic congressman to condemn the APA. It was also the impetus for a complaint filed with the Department of Education’s Office of Civil Rights during the Biden administration against an anti-Zionist DT leader who characterized Zionism as psychosis.
Mental health professionals who are anti-Zionist, including Jewish members of the profession, are embraced as ethical scholars and professionals, damaging collegiality and harming the profession. But when a professional defends the right for Israel to exist, regardless of their view of the current Israeli government, they are met with condemnation and scorn.
Left-wing identitarianism in the mental health professions extends to the demand that practitioners accept DT. While DT lacks empirical support, it is presented as if it were settled psychological science, to be applied to all individuals from historically marginalized backgrounds, while identifying specific other groups deemed responsible for these intergenerational woes.
This guiding philosophy commits rhetorical, interpersonal, political, and in some cases physical violence against Jewish members of the profession. It contributes to traumatic invalidation, wherein a Jewish client’s grief or fear is mocked, minimized, or made contingent on denouncing aspects of their identity. It is associated with avoidance, hypervigilance, shame, and ruptured help-seeking. As clinicians, we would never tell a survivor, “You’re safe here — as long as you recant a core part of who you are.”
We must not say it to Jews either. Whatever one’s politics, professional codes are clear: avoid discrimination and harm, be accurate in teaching, and avoid false or deceptive statements
The new identitarianism poses a serious public health risk. Clients have been rejected by professionals simply for being Jewish or expressing distress over the war between Israel and Hamas.
This risk extends beyond Jewish clinicians and clients. Fusing treatment with politics creates a profound public health crisis, as more clients will receive care that is based on activism and invalid conceptualizations of mental illness. Given the influence mental health professionals have on the public, this movement actively contributes to the rise of left-wing antisemitism
This is not a plea to shield Israeli policy from critique, nor erase Palestinian trauma. Patients and trainees deserve freedom from ideological coercion and discrimination because of their Jewish and/or Zionist identity. Good care is rigorous and grounded: validate distress, explore meaning, and apply tested tools. Keep the hour centered on patient goals, not clinician activism. We can hold multiple truths: Palestinian suffering, Israeli suffering, diaspora Jewish fear — without coercing political statements from patients, trainees, or colleagues.
We recommend professional reforms at every level. Mental health associations must require continuing education (CE) providers to disclose when the content is advocacy versus evidence-based clinical training. Safeguards must be instituted for reporting discrimination based on Jewish/Zionist identity, with clear remedies.
Antisemitism literacy must be adopted at every level of professional education. Assessment of traumatic invalidation needs to be incorporated into intake procedures when identity-related stressors are evident. When teaching emerging and untested methods (such as DT), clear disclaimers about the available evidence must be made explicit. And regulatory bodies need reform to swiftly and transparently address claims of retaliation against trainees and colleagues for Jewish/Zionist identity, and enforce anti-discrimination policies.
Our field knows how to hold complexity. We can grieve for Palestinians and Israelis, critique policies, and still protect patients, trainees, and colleagues from ideological coercion. Jewish clinicians and clients deserve the same ethical care we promise everyone else. Let’s replace purity tests with professional standards, and return the therapy room to what it’s for: healing.
Dean McKay is a Professor of Psychology at Fordham University and Miri Bar-Halpern is a Lecturer at Harvard Medical School.