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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 post How Judy Blume’s ‘Are You There God? It’s Me, Margaret’ broke taboos around interfaith marriage appeared first on Jewish Telegraphic Agency.

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How Social Media Got Hamas Casualty Figures Wrong

A Palestinian man points a weapon in the air after it was announced that Israel and Hamas agreed on the first phase of a Gaza ceasefire, in the central Gaza Strip, October 9. Photo: REUTERS/Mahmoud Issa

As the Israel-Hamas ceasefire continues to hold, many analysts have begun examining available data to better understand Hamas’ casualties throughout the war. This is no easy feat, considering Hamas has consistently lied and inflated the civilian casualty figures. The reality of urban warfare provides other challenges for the IDF to count every eliminated terrorist.

Varying numbers regarding Hamas’ casualty figures have been recently touted on social media. But many of them lack sources, or a breakdown of the statistics.

Conversely, some analysts, such as HonestReporting board member Salo Aizenberg, have done an exceptional job at critically analyzing the available casualty numbers.

The Hamas-run Ministry of Health has reported over 70,000 deaths in Gaza, including civilians.

But closer examination of these numbers displays that it also includes an estimated 22,000-25,000 Hamas fighters, around 11,000 natural deaths, and 4,000 casualties caused by internal fighting amongst Gazans. With 1,000 deaths attributed to reporting errors, this suggests that 25,000 casualties were terrorists, and 36,000 were civilians.

One suggestion that has gained momentum on social media suggests that the actual number of Hamas casualties is double this number, at 50,000 combatant deaths.

However, pre-war estimates by the IDF suggest that Hamas had 35,000 combatants. US estimates believe that Hamas recruited 10,000-15,000 new combatants throughout the war. This means that if the IDF had killed 50,000 Hamas terrorists, there would be virtually no Hamas terrorists left — an analysis that is unfortunately not accurate.

The claim of 50,000 eliminated Hamas terrorists is based on an announcement by the Hamas-run Ministry of Social Development of the start of a new program that would provide NIS 500 to the widows of Gazans killed in the war.

By February 8, 2026, payments had been made to 19,306 widows, totaling NIS 9.653 million or over three million US dollars.

The Ministry of Social Development further stated that 50,000 widowed families were set to receive these benefits, implying that more than widowed wives would be receiving the payments. This is likely where some analysts misinterpreted Hamas’ statement and took it to mean that for every Hamas terrorist, one wife would receive a payment. However, this payment is not exclusively for the wives of terrorists, and not every Hamas combatant would have been married by the time of his death.

What these numbers do suggest, however, is that claims of unreported casualties are likely to be false. The ability to receive a payment for reporting a death would presumably encourage many Gazans to submit claims of being widowed.

Since the early days of the war, news outlets and influencers on social media have blindly repeated Hamas’ claim that the majority of casualties were women and children. The claim implied that the IDF was specifically targeting both groups.

Beyond this claim not being true — men of combat age account for around 46.7% of total casualties — data from the World Health Organization (WHO) displays that 603,000 children under the age of 10 were vaccinated at the beginning of 2025. This number exceeds the pre-war population of that age group, indicating that the overall population of young children has remained stable or even grown despite the war.

With births being the same as, if not higher than, pre-war numbers, the claims of underreported casualties and casualties disproportionately targeting children fall apart. Despite this data being publicly available and offering important information about the war’s human toll, it has received no attention in media coverage, allowing the misleading child casualty narrative to persist.

These two case studies of terrorist casualty statistics and the reported number of children under 10 during the war highlight the need to analyze all available data with scrutiny. It is not enough to rely on unverified claims about casualty figures. Instead, accurate conclusions must be based on transparent analysis conducted by credible analysts who rely on publicly available data, verifiable sources, and clear methodology. Only through rigorous examination can casualty figures be properly understood, rather than simply repeated without question.

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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We Are Fighting Hate; But Are We Building Jews?

Illustrative: Pennsylvania State Sen. David Argall addressed the more than 300 Jewish-day school students, parents and administrators gathered at the State Capitol in Harrisburg. Photo: Teach PA.

The Super Bowl ad showing a Jewish boy being bullied sparked intense conversation across the Jewish community about how we are investing our resources in the fight against antisemitism, and whether we are approaching the challenge in the right way.

Rising antisemitism has understandably pushed our community into a defensive posture, with enormous resources directed toward monitoring hate, raising awareness, and responding to dangerous rhetoric. Those efforts matter. But the Super Bowl moment also raises a deeper question: if this is what Jewish vulnerability looks like on the biggest stage in America, are we investing enough in what actually makes Jewish children strong?

History shows that by itself, fighting hatred has never been enough to secure the Jewish future. A generation raised primarily to react to antisemitism risks growing up defined by fear instead of by identity. Children need more than protection from hate. They need a strong connection to their own identity and community.

The past few years have been a painful reminder that we cannot rely solely on the outside world to safeguard Jewish life. Partnerships matter, but in moments of crisis, the Jewish community is reminded that our deepest strength has always come from within. That realization is shaping a quiet but meaningful shift in where many leaders and families believe our focus must go. Less looking outward. More building inward.

Investing in Jewish education is not a retreat from the fight against antisemitism. It is a long-term strategy for ensuring that Jewish life does not decline under pressure. You know where Jewish children are not bullied for being Jewish? In Jewish schools. You know where they learn to speak confidently about their heritage, to celebrate their traditions without embarrassment, and to see their identity as a source of pride? In Jewish schools.

In strong Jewish educational environments, children do not just learn history or holidays. They have a sense of belonging. They build friendships rooted in shared identity. They encounter teachers and mentors who model what it means to live Jewishly with confidence. When they later encounter antisemitism online, on campus, or in broader culture, they face it with a foundation of knowledge and self-respect, not confusion or isolation.

Jewish day schools are among the most powerful builders of Jewish identity. These schools answer the question that defensive campaigns cannot: not only “what is antisemitism?” but, “why am I Jewish, and why does it matter?”

At Teach Coalition, this belief shapes our work every day. Teach is the only national Jewish advocacy organization focused solely on expanding access to Jewish education. We work to ensure schools have the resources they need to thrive: funding for STEM, arts and music, transportation, lunches, and critical security support. We support policies that help schools stay strong, enhance quality, and establish new ones. We also help create pathways for families who once believed Jewish education was out of reach to find a place within it.

The impact of this work shows up where it matters most: at home and across communities. Parents describe children coming back singing songs, asking thoughtful questions about the holidays, and bringing a new sense of pride to the Shabbat table. The continuity of the Jewish people relies on Jewish education, which not only shapes students but also strengthens families and builds lasting communal roots.

The Super Bowl ad reminded us how exposed a Jewish child can feel. The real answer is making sure more Jewish children grow up surrounded by confidence, community, and pride. That work is happening every day in Jewish schools, supported by educators, families, and groups such as ours, who work to keep those schools strong and accessible. This is the future worth investing in.

Sydney Altfield is CEO, Teach Coalition.

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Inclusion Isn’t About Being the Same

An empty classroom. Photo: Wiki Commons.

“Same.” That’s what the two-year-old proudly proclaims when she wanders, cloppity clop, into the kitchen wearing her mother’s good heels and expensive jewelry. It’s also what the teenager is attempting to achieve when shopping for a new outfit or schoolbag, and what the business executive might have in mind when he orders the new luxury SUV that some of his colleagues were talking about in the office lounge. We have “made it,” it seems, when we are just like everyone else. It is that innate drive to achieve sameness that all too often diverts limited resources away from helping individuals to maximize their potential while still taking note of and honoring their differences.

This drive for sameness underlies so much in life: applied behavioral analysis, corrective surgeries, even a handicap in a round of golf — it’s all about leveling the playing field. The problem, however, with chasing the unattainable, is that it is a recipe for burnout, disappointment, and existential crises. 

In the world of learning disabilities, neurodivergence, genetic conditions, and a host of other differences, there is a disproportionate focus on being the “same.” While I can’t seem to put my finger on the “why,” there has certainly been an uptick, of late, of children and teens with very pronounced differences being shoe-horned into more mainstream learning environments. This happens despite the oft-mentioned idea in the world of education that we can’t “force a round peg into a square hole.” That thinking, however, is generally limited  to children who exhibit mild or less overt differences. Kids who need a little something extra: extra time on a test, extra attention from the teacher or paraprofessional staff, extra recess, or extra incentives. “Don’t let their differences be the cause of their slipping between the cracks of institutionalized education and development,” goes the rationale: acknowledge their unique needs and address those needs. 

But somehow, when the needs are indeed significant and overt; when the differences put their host in danger of being “othered,” then we do the opposite: we try to make them fit in, almost at all costs. Tremendous resources are invested in this group. Many of those resources are government sponsored, while others come from parents in the form of tuition or private therapies. Another significant source is philanthropic dollars. In addition to funding for these efforts, volunteerism plays a meaningful role in making “others” be “the same.”  

This approach does not and cannot work. As Australian disability advocate Stella Young quipped in her viral TED talk, “No amount of smiling at a flight of stairs has ever made it turn into a ramp.” The reality is that many students with learning or developmental differences are provided significant supports and adaptations to allow them to function within parameters specifically designed for people who are not like them. Eventually and necessarily, many of those supports disappear leaving so many of these individuals lost and frustrated, as they are unprepared to engage properly and independently with a world that runs counter to their unique experience.

To be sure, there are many ways in which certain kinds of support can, should, and are appropriately maintained in what we might call the real world, but these tend to be in the form of physical accessibility. A business is mandated to provide wheelchair access, for example, and options for the hearing and visually impaired are very commonplace. But to rewire a business or society for those who experience and process it differently is virtually impossible. 

Fear not: it really doesn’t have to be this way. If we engage all individuals from a place of acceptance and understanding, we can normalize not being “normal.” After all, isn’t that how teams work? The running back doesn’t have to be a lineman and there will only be one quarterback. And that’s fine. Sure, it can be uncomfortable to be different, but at the same time…does it really have to be?  

A student of mine, a fellow by the name of Meir, was once asked by a group of high school girls what it is like for him to have Down Syndrome. Without missing a beat, Meir replied: “Some people are tall and some people are short, some people are fat and some people are skinny, and I have Down Syndrome.” As simple as that. Differences are just…different. 

February is designated as JDAIM — Jewish Disability Awareness and Inclusion Month — specifically because February, with its 28 days (and sometimes 29), is the month that is not like the others. And that’s just fine for February. We need to realize that acceptance and inclusion doesn’t refer to fixing the “problem” or ignoring the difference. Telling or even silently suggesting to a fish that it is safe on land, would not bode well for the fish. As a matter of fact, that very thought is a fairy tale — one we know as Disney’s “The Little Mermaid.”

Rather, we all need to look differences right in the eye and welcome their uniqueness into our mostly mainstream world. We need to encourage those who are different to embrace their struggles and differences, and we need to be ready to do the same — with open arms and open minds. 

Avi Ganz is the program director of the Elaine and Norm Brodsky Yeshivat Darkaynu, a division of Ohr Torah Stone, which offers a unique year-in-Israel program for young adults with special needs.

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