8 Febraury 14 • 2019
jn

GREENVILLE, S.C. (JTA) —
W

hen my father was 7 years 
old, he was placed in an 
orphanage.
His own father had died, and his 
mother’
s mental illness prevented her 
from caring for him. 
Growing up, I heard his stories of “kid 
prison,
” as he called it, and I dreamed 
of someday becoming a 
foster parent able to take 
children out of an insti-
tution and offer them a 
family.
In the spring of 2010, 
my husband and I were 
raising our three young 
biological children when 
we decided we were ready to foster. We 
had so much abundance and capacity: 
room in our house, enough money, 
a very stable relationship, supportive 
extended family and plenty of love. I also 
was inspired by the core Jewish value of 
tikkun olam, repairing the world.
We knew that the number of children 
needing care had become a crisis in our 
state, South Carolina, and that older 
children were being warehoused in mod-
ern-day orphanages. Boys with a history 
in the system are hard to place in fami-
lies because of the assumption that they 
might be violent, and we decided that we 
wanted to give one of them a home.
My husband and I initially reached 
out to the adoption division of the state 
Department of Social Services office in 
Greenville County. However, the agen-
cy was backlogged, with expected wait 
times of about a year for a foster-adop-
tive license. The director suggested we 
work with a private agency, Miracle Hill, 
which had an orphanage full of school-
aged boys and would be able to move 
forward right away.
But when I requested Miracle Hill’
s 
application, I learned that we were 
barred because of our religion. 
The agency only accepts Protestant 

Christian families. This publicly sub-
sidized foster program is unwilling to 
place children with Jewish, Catholic, 
Muslim, Buddhist, Hindu, atheist and 
agnostic would-be parents. Their initial 
screening form, now available online, 
asks for the contact information of your 
pastor and that you testify to your salva-
tion in the text box provided.
Miracle Hill, which licenses foster 
families in 11 counties, is denying chil-
dren access to loving families despite the 
fact the state is paying the agency to find 
families for children who desperately 
need them — and our president has 
decided that’
s perfectly fine.
On Jan. 24, the Trump administra-
tion granted a request by the governor 
of South Carolina to issue a waiver of 
federal regulations that prohibit federal 
funding for agencies that discriminate 
based on faith requirements. 
This means that agencies like Miracle 
Hill will be allowed to continue rejecting 
families — and they’
re not alone.
Some eight states have passed laws 
that permit state-contracted, taxpay-
er-funded child welfare agencies to use 
religious criteria to exclude prospective 
foster and adoptive parents, including 
Michigan. Other states are now consid-
ering similar measures. In Philadelphia, 
a government-contracted foster care 
agency sued the city, claiming a con-
stitutional right to exclude families 
that don’
t meet their religious criteria 
— specifically, same-sex couples. The 
district court rejected that claim, but the 
case is pending before a federal appeals 
court. 
There are thousands of children in fos-
ter care across our country who are and 
will be affected by the exclusion of good 
families based on religious requirements. 
For them, the time lost to an institution 
instead of spent with a loving family 
could alter the course of their lives.
In 2012 — two years after deciding to 
foster — my husband and I were finally 
able to welcome an older child to our 

family through Greenville County’
s part-
nership with another private agency. We 
brought home a 9-year-old boy who had 
been living in an institution. In 2017, 
we began fostering a daughter, who also 
came from an institution. 
Even the best institution leaves marks. 
When he first came to us, our son would 
scrunch up into a tiny ball or chew his 
fist when presented with a routine sib-
ling conflict. Our daughter would smack 
kids who were nearby when she was 
passed a plate of snacks and then gorge 
herself until her stomach hurt.
In South Carolina, orphanages and 
foster parents have tremendous authority 
over the religious lives of the children 
placed with them. Foster children are 
expected to attend religious services 
and celebrate holidays according to the 
custom of the adults who are caring for 
them. For us, this simply meant that 
the children in our care attended our 
synagogue’
s Sunday school rather than 
the Christian equivalent. They were 
not expected to become Jewish, only to 
participate fully in the life of their Jewish 
foster mom and siblings.
Our daughter, who had been baptized 
Catholic in her infancy, was forcibly 
converted to the Baptist faith at age 7 
and was sent to an evangelical orphan-
age. While she was living there, many 
special treats (McDonald’
s, Easter bas-
kets, Christmas parties, field trips) were 
provided only for the kids who agreed 
to attend “optional” church services and 

vacation Bible camps.
Our daughter is now at the age where 
she enjoys fantasy-planning her bat 
mitzvah party, but we still have not for-
mally converted her to Judaism. She has 
been coerced so much in her short life 
by adults who thought that they knew 
God’
s will for her. We would rather have 
a child who is not Jewish than a child 
who became Jewish as some sort of bar-
gain — her soul for our love and protec-
tion. Our love and protection are freely 
given, no strings attached. All children in 
foster care deserve that same gift.
Children are resilient — it’
s amazing 
what a stable, loving home can do. Our 
son is now 15 and thriving; he loves 
sci-fi and video games and is training 
to become a professional dancer. Our 
family recently moved to Philadelphia 
so he could live with us while he attends 
the prestigious Rock School for Dance 
Education. After some homeschooling, 
our daughter has returned to public 
school and is making good progress. 
Slowly, with our consistent love and dis-
cipline, she is learning to trust. We have 
adopted both children.
Unfortunately, Greenville County’
s 
partnership with the agency we used did 
not last, and Miracle Hill is now the only 
private agency in the Greenville area to 
serve children without special needs. I 
adore my children and wouldn’
t alter the 
path that brought them to us. But I think 
often about the other older children who 
were waiting for families, the ones in 
Miracle Hill institutions whom we could 
have loved if we had not been rejected 
because of our faith. I wonder what hap-
pened to them — and whether they are 
still waiting. ■ 

Lydia Currie spent a decade living in South 

Carolina, where she served as a foster parent. 

She now lives in Philadelphia, where she is a 

member of Congregation Kol Tzedek.

guest column
I was Barred from Becoming a 
Foster Parent Because I am Jewish

views

Lydia Currie

