Then the next generation. Both of Chaim’s sons fell in love with girls from rather different backgrounds to their own, to the horror of the extended Goldenberg family — although once they’d weathered the scandal of Chaim’s own second marriage (to the chazan’s ex-wife!) they were ready for anything. They were initially appalled when young Danny, heir to Goldenberg’s Frillies, met the daughter of an Anglican bishop. But the gracious and beautiful Katy converted to Orthodox Judaism, and now, modest and demure, she is only slightly irritating as she shows the other female members of the family how to bake their challah and roast their chicken.
But the second son, Harrison, is a different story. His wife Yoko is older, American and has a strong ethnic identity of her own. She is not content to join the Jewish community and leave her old life behind. She clashes with Katy when her new sister-in-law offers to teach her to bake babkas and tries, tactfully, to explain why it’s not a great idea to wear a trouser suit, however cool, to shul.
And then there's the wedding, and the bridesmaids' outfits. Classic broiges. Everyone cries. It’s difficult.
Yoko sees that Harrison has not been able to develop his own identity, so smothered is he by years of tradition and the expectations of his family. And so she suggests he sees a therapist — and moves to California — and there’s a big row about money — and the Goldenbergs are left, confused and bereft, wondering if they will ever see the grandchildren, and why Yoko was quite so insulted when Katy explained to her that halachically he wasn’t really part of the family, he could never be Jewish.
The similarities are all there to see: an older generation bound by duty and tradition, their lives set out for them, expecting their children and grandchildren to follow suit.
A middle generation grasping towards selfhood while still respecting their parents’ values. And a new generation who want to redefine everything.
In the stories of Katy and Yoko we have the classic Jewish approach to outsiders who marry ‘in’ — often only really accepted if they reinvent themselves. And while some Jews who marry ‘out’ find graceful ways of balancing their families old and new, others end up furious and resentful, railing at the unfairness of being born into a heritage that they had no choice about.
What can we learn from this transposition? Maybe old traditional families need to think about how to welcome newcomers with more support and kindness. And maybe grandsons should have a little more respect towards older people who did the best they could, and had a completely different set of challenges to face.
In other words, some of the issues you may be having with your family are very similar to those discussed at Buckingham Palace. Just be thankful that Oprah has no interest in the running of the ladies’ guild or the future of your family business.
As for me, I’m going to send this column to my agent.
