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