By Steve Arnold
I know it sounds like a corny joke, but it's the situation I had to balance recently in finally laying the ashes of my late wife to rest. In a world where more than half of all Jewish marriages are interfaith, finding a way to balance those different cultural demands is something we're all going to face.

My story starts in April when my wife Marg died suddenly. She was a believing, but non-practicing Anglican and I'm Jewish. Her relatives are hard-right Pentacostals. The funeral service and visitation were marred by some serious and bitter conflicts with her relatives over fundamental questions - Marg and I had always talked about cremation, but her relatives were horrified at the idea her body wouldn't be ready for the rapture. I would sit shiva after the funeral, but for the service itself I wanted a dignified Anglican funeral - they wanted their family pastor to preach "hell fire and damnation." Emotions ran high.

Partly because of that conflict, and partly because I wasn't ready to let go, when the funeral home staff brought a small shopping bag to me containing a neatly wrapped little package, I put it in a cabinet surrounded by some of Marg's favourite capodimonte roses and a nice picture of her and waited. Time doesn't heal some wounds, but it does make them less raw. When I realized it would be soon be six months since her death, I finally made the decision to have the cremains buried.

Time had cooled some of the initial anger and I found Marg's sister anxious to help make the final arrangements. She was there when I picked out the grave site, the marker, made all the business arrangements. It was the kind of support family is supposed to give, and because of that I agreed to let their family minister take part in the service I'd asked my own rabbi to lead. At the last minute Marg's sister asked for a piper to acknowledge their Scottish heritage.

On that final day, Rabbi Jordan Cohen read the Jewish burial service for me, Pastor Whittaker prayed to Jesus for the soul of a good Christian, I recited the Kaddish and Marg's sister read poetry. The piper played Amazing Grace and everyone finally felt that tiny bit of peace you're supposed to get from a funeral.

It could have been a real disaster, but in the end we found a way to meet everyone's needs by and respect everyone's tradition.

In the end, the Rabbi, the minister and the bagpiper helped bring a family back together.

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