Supporting Your (Foster) Kids' Spiritual Beliefs When They're Not Your Own

I’m Jewish. Moderately Jewish. The kind of Jewish who loves Shabbat candles, gets sentimental over Barbara Streisand’s "Papa Can You Hear Me," and once had a "bustling side hustle as a High Holidays guest cantor in Orlando. I'm as likely to quote the Talmud as I am Maya Angelou. In short: I’m spiritual - with great faith in a Higher Power, culturally rooted, and prone to spontaneous deep thoughts over challah and Manischewitz.

And now, I’m raising three kids—two of whom came from a deeply religious Christian background, at least in structure - and one too young to know what religion is. For years, the girls attended church every single Sunday with their grandparents who had raised them. But it was a Spanish-speaking congregation, and the girls didn’t fully understand the sermons. They learned the rhythms, memorized a few phrases and songs, and took away what they could. Ask them what Christianity means, and they'll tell you “God loves us and Jesus helps you be good”—which, honestly, isn’t a bad summary.

Still, when Mary came up this past holiday season—yes, that Mary—they blinked at me like I’d mentioned a neighbor from three streets over. No clue. I realized then: their religious experience was deep in practice but they were only wading in understanding. And now, they’re looking to me—me, the moderately Jewish, spiritual-question-asking, Torah-singing mama—to help them unpack it.

So we read a kid-friendly Bible together at bedtime - Old and New Testaments. And let me tell you: it was the first time I had ever read the New Testament, too. Imagine me sitting there trying to pronounce “Ephesians” without sounding like I was placing an order at a Greek diner.

Why This Is Beautifully Complicated

For me, Judaism isn’t just belief—it’s language, food, music, memory, and more questions than answers. For them, Christianity has been more about repetition of beliefs than understanding of theology. But now they’re starting to wonder. And, to me, wondering is a sacred act.

Recently, Alexa asked, “If the Old Testament says you’re not supposed to worship anyone but God, why does the New Testament say to worship Jesus?” A fair question. A huge question. And all I could say was: “Let’s explore that together.”

(And then I made a mental note to ask a friend with a seminary degree. Because wow.)

But Wait—There's More Faith in the Mix

Just when you think the spiritual storyline couldn’t get any more complicated, it does. The girls’ biological mom—who they were not raised by—identifies as Muslim, but it depends on the day. They’ve spent very little time with her, but the idea that they might be Muslim by default was something they wrestled with when they were having visits with her.

And so we had another important conversation—about how religion isn’t something assigned to you like a seat at a wedding. It’s not inherited like eye color. It’s about your own beliefs, your questions, your values, your connection to a higher power (or not), and the practices that feel true to you.

I told them, “You’re allowed to explore. You’re allowed to ask. You’re allowed to believe what you believe—even if it’s different from me, from your birth family, from what you hear at school or church or temple. What matters most is that you choose your path with curiosity and love.”

(They mostly just wanted to know if Muslim holidays also include presents, fun foods, or days off from school. Valid follow-up.)

Raising Kids in a Faith That's Not Yours: Tips From the Trenches

If you're raising kids in a religion that isn’t your own—or if your kids are still figuring out what they believe while you’re trying to Google your way through parenting—it can be done. Here's what I've learned (and am still learning):

1. Be Open-Minded (Even When You're Also Slightly Confused)

Your job isn’t to have all the answers. It’s to create space for questions. My girls aren’t theologians, and honestly, neither am I. So when they ask things like, “Why did Jesus die?” I try not to panic. I respond with something like, “Christians believe he died to save people. Do you want to learn more about what that means?”

2. Avoid Absolutes

Saying “That’s not true” shuts down conversation. Saying “That’s not what I believe, but here’s what some people believe” opens it up. There’s a lot of spiritual wiggle room in the world. Kids need to know it’s okay to explore.

3. Phone a Friend (or Pastor, or Rabbi, or Google)

Let’s just say there are some very real theological landmines when it comes to comparing Judaism and Christianity. You do not want to accidentally give a six-year-old a crash course in religious division. When I don’t know how to answer something—or when I sense it’s a little out of my lane—I reach out to trusted friends or resources who can guide us.

4. Honor Their Curiosity with Shared Experiences

Our lives are busy - busier than I ever imagined they could be. But when there is time, we attend a local church where two of their siblings attend with their family. For me, it's an opportunity to connect with their siblings' (foster) parents and to hear a great message. I learned a long time ago to "take what I like and leave the rest," so there is almost always something I can take from the sermon. Most important though is that the girls are able to connect with their religion, and the God of their understanding. These experiences create opportunities for questions, discussions, and connections.

The girls came to see me sing at temple once and actually asked to go back. I'll never forget to light the Chanukah candles again because they are so excited they remind me at least five times a day. We had our first family Passover seder this year, and while their two-year-old brother limited the length of it (matzah in hair, spilled grape juice, a rogue hard-boiled egg), they genuinely enjoyed it. Letting them be part of my tradition makes it easier to help them understand their own — not because I want to convert them, but because I want them to see how diverse belief can look and feel.

5. Let Them Decide—With Love

Faith isn’t something you can force. I want them to know that whatever path they choose—Christianity, Judaism, some kind of hybrid, or something else entirely—I will love and support them. But I also want them to choose it with knowledge and intention, not just tradition or convenience.

Ultimately, this isn’t about raising “Christian kids” or “Jewish kids.” It’s about raising whole kids—ones who feel safe asking hard questions, who understand that belief is deeply personal, and who know that they are fully loved no matter what path they choose.

The Joy in the Journey

Here’s the thing: this isn’t always easy. It’s not easy to explain two different views of the Messiah to an eight-year-old while you're driving to dance class. It’s not easy to feel like a spiritual outsider in your own home some days. But it is beautiful.

• It’s beautiful to hear them pray.

• It’s beautiful to watch them light the candles on the menorah and then ask for a Bible story.

• It’s beautiful to know that their faith—whatever it becomes—is being built with care, intention, and a whole lot of love.

• And yes, sometimes it’s hilarious. Like when they asked if Jesus went to temple and then immediately wanted to know if he got gifts for Hanukkah and Christmas “since he’s kind of both."

At the end of the day, I’m not raising “Christian kids” or “Jewish kids.” I’m raising my kids—curious, hilarious, deeply loved little people who are figuring out who they are and what they believe.

And I'm just here, trying to keep up, with a copy of both testaments, a half-drunk cup of coffee (or Manischewitz depending on the time of day), and a prayer of my own: that they always keep asking questions—and know they’re safe to find their own answers.