Your People Will Be My People
How my non-Jewish wife shares the burden of antisemitism
by Rob Berman
I held the large, flat gift in my hands. It was two days before our wedding, and we were enjoying a dinner out with all our extended family. When Elize handed me the wedding gift, I thought she must’ve framed a photo of us to honor the occasion. She’s a creative person and a thoughtful gift-giver. So, I was excited to see what it was.
But when I unwrapped the gift, disappointment set in. It wasn’t a photo of us at all. It was words in a frame.
Then I took a closer look, and disappointment melted away. The quote read, “Where you go I will go, where you lodge I will lodge. Your people shall be my people, and your God my God. Where you die I will die, and there will I be buried.” The words of Ruth were Elize’s way of affirming her commitment to me.
Her trust in that moment does remind me of the trust Ruth had for Naomi. In fact, Elize said recently that the way she felt she was able to have complete confidence in me was one of her reasons for marrying me. In a way, I reminded her of her dad, who was one of her best friends and someone she always trusted explicitly.
Despite this, after we became engaged, it was her dad to whom she had privately posed the question, “Am I making a mistake?” We were from different backgrounds and different faith traditions. Though we are both South African, I am Jewish and Elize is not. Would the clash be too much?
Yet even with some small anxieties about clashes that we might have in future years, she decided to make this commitment of loyalty. We didn’t know then how much that loyalty would mean.
Jumping In with Both Feet
Elize had always loved her Afrikaans surname, but she readily took my Jewish name when we married. (Funnily enough, when we first met, she didn’t realize that “Berman” was a Jewish name. It wasn’t until we visited my parents’ house together and she saw their house decorated in Judaica that she asked me, “Are you Jewish?” That was definitely a moment of discovery!)
The name “Berman” is not the only thing she embraced. We also began celebrating Shabbat dinners together as well as the Jewish feasts. It took time for us to settle into a rhythm and form our own traditions. But when Elize learned that the Shabbat dinners my family had kept were a reflection of the Ten Commandments that she’d learned as a child, the tradition became personal for her. She learned how to light the candles and adapted a prayer of her own.
What motivates someone to jump in with both feet when the water they’re jumping into is so very different from the water they’d grown accustomed to? There must be some knowledge or hope that the water they’re jumping into will be worth the risk.
And though my Jewish “water” differed from Elize’s non-Jewish upbringing, it wasn’t completely foreign to her. Elize was raised in a Christian culture that honors and serves the God of Israel. Her parents taught her to value the whole Bible—the Hebrew Scriptures included—and she vividly remembers to this day a trip her whole family took to Israel when she was a child.
For Ruth the Moabitess, loyalty to the God of Israel would’ve been completely foreign. Yet though she’d been raised in a pagan nation with pagan gods, she called God “Yahweh”—an intimate name. Ruth was giving up opportunities, safety, her future— everything.
Elize and I didn’t have quite such a stark contrast. We have the same family values and morals and somewhat similar personalities. Those things did lower the barrier to our connection. But what solidified her commitment to my people group was more than her relationship with me; it was her connection with our God.
Courage at the Wailing Wall
Elize’s courage is not of her own making. She can think back to a time when it was given to her in an almost tangible way.
In 2019, we were visiting Israel with a team from Jews for Jesus. We had been to the Wailing Wall during the day, but our team leader wanted us to experience it on Erev Shabbat.
At 3 p.m. every Friday, the atmosphere in Jerusalem shifts. Everything stops. People from many different backgrounds and expressions of Jewishness pause their busy preparations to go and pray. That night, we were among them.
There, courage was a gift that Elize unwrapped. Here is that experience, in her own words:
When Rob and I went to Jerusalem, I had a very real experience with the Lord at the Wailing Wall, where He opened my heart to the importance of ministering to the Jewish people. I had a deeply intense moment of prayer, and I realized that the Lord’s heart bleeds for His people. Later, Rob and I had a conversation about the plaque I had given him. “Did you ever think that the meaning behind these words would extend beyond the commitment of marriage?” he asked me.
The truth is, on that night in the restaurant, Elize jumped into her commitment to me and my family wholeheartedly. But she didn’t realize that her loyalty would extend toward a whole people group until she saw how far God’s heart extends.
October 7
Elize’s initial commitment was sweet, and its renewal at the Wailing Wall was inspiring, but even I didn’t realize how serious she was. Until October 7.
When we started getting reports of the terrorist attack in Israel, our concern was immediately for my Israeli family. We had recently spent a lovely time visiting them, so they were first on our minds. We found out that they were safe–but before we could even catch our breath, concern for our own safety started to grow. Anyone reading this will recall how quickly antisemitism swept beyond Israel and has affected Jewish people worldwide.
Antisemitic rhetoric and expressions have swept the globe on a scale not seen in almost a century. As a Jewish man, I expected to hear of antisemitism in the news, but I did not expect the threat of it to enter our own home. So Elize and I were caught completely off guard when we had a contractor visit our house shortly after the attack in Israel.
When he arrived to look at some repairs we needed to make, we discovered that he was a Muslim man. He was only professional and polite, but Elize and I both felt apprehensive in light of the animosity coming from the South African Muslim community. As I watched this man walk through my home, I remembered that the term “Israeli Apartheid” was coined in South Africa (following the 2001 World Conference Against Racism in Durban).
After his inspection, he asked for our contact details for his quote. Elize took the form and wrote down her first name. Then with a deep breath, she added “Berman.”
My Gentile wife may not carry any Jewish heritage in her DNA, but she does carry my Jewish name, and this alone makes her a potential target for antisemitism. She experiences the same sense of vulnerability that Jews all around the world are experiencing. But rather than this being a source of tension in our home, it has been a source of unity for us.
The Two of us against the world
All the pain and drama in the world can be a source of stress. But Elize and I have also had moments where the current crisis has brought us together. We recently watched video footage of an anti-Israel protest not far from where we live. Watching the procession was an anchoring moment for Elize. She thought, I’ve made my decision. I’ve chosen my husband, his family, and his people. I’ve chosen the God of Israel—and that’s the right choice.
Unity in marriage is so important, and I’m so grateful for it. For a husband and wife to be unified in their loyalty and mission is part of God’s original design for marriage. Basar echad (one flesh) is what it’s called in Genesis 2:24.
But unity in marriage also means that we have an ally in each other. During your life, you might have sometimes thought, Of course this person would do XYZ for me. They’re my friend. But until they have an opportunity to do XYZ—until that belief is tested—you don’t really know. It’s crises like the current ongoing war that reveal who our true allies are.
So, for Elize, trusting and knowing that she has an ally in me (and for me, knowing that I have one in her) has increased our reliance on each other.
Our mutual commitment goes beyond words and beyond sentiment. I am employed by Jews for Jesus. My work involves being boots on the ground, and Elize is in the thick of it with me. She is more than my office assistant; she accompanies me when I meet with Jewish-Gentile couples like us. She attends my prayer meetings, and she plans gatherings for Jewish people and their partners to enjoy together. One such celebration was a Hanukkah party she and I hosted in our home in 2023.
When we watch the news (or sometimes, just when we step out into our community), it can feel like it’s Elize and me against the world. But the more I dive into our work, the more chances I have to see the bigger picture, and I realize that it’s not so.
There have been many “Righteous Gentiles” (the very appropriate name for non-Jewish people who throw themselves into alliance with the Jews).¹ There was Corrie ten Boom and Dietrich Bonhoeffer. There’s the Wall of the Righteous in France with over 3,900 names on it. There are Christian churches right now who are holding events, fundraisers, and prayer meetings as ways to help Jewish people worldwide. They, like Elize, understand the loyalty God has to His people, and they want to help demonstrate that loyalty, come what may.
And in our marriage, this kind of loyalty draws us together, but it’s also made us realize that we’re part of a bigger story.
Courage in Common
Today, I walked by Ruth’s words on the wall in my home. They’ve been there since the beginning of our marriage in 2014, but I almost feel like I’m unwrapping them again. I see the deeper connection now. I see how Ruth’s courage, the courage of the Righteous Gentiles, and the courage of my wife are all connected.
Many of my Jewish people who are intermarried like me experience a hesitancy towards, or even a suspicion of, their partner’s faith. But I’ve actually found that Elize’s Gentile Christian beliefs have been an anchor for our family.
Hostility is all around us. But we remember that “He himself is our peace, who has made us both one and has broken down in his flesh the dividing wall of hostility” (Ephesians 2:14).
I believe that it’s no accident that the one we call our Prince of Peace, the Jewish Messiah, is in the line of King David, and David was the great-grandson of Ruth. I wonder if Ruth knew that we would still be talking about her courageous commitment today and that her words would be framed and hanging on walls.
And when Elize and I reread them, we remember that loyalty does sometimes come at a cost. But ultimately, that loyalty leads to peace with one another and peace with God.
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End Notes
“Righteous Among the Nations”: History & Overview, Jewish Virtual Library, accessed July 23, 2024.