The Israeli sitting next to me on my return flight to the US told me this story about his father: My father was a religious Jew. We nine children - most of us do not keep the laws of Shabbat. At my fathers insistence, however, we all always would return home on Friday, to be together for kiddush and Friday night dinner. We did so happily. Most would usually arrive before candle lighting though sometimes some were late. Surprised by this, the community rabbi once asked my father how he managed to have his family every Shabbat, even though they did not generally observe the Shabbat laws. My father answered that he recognized that many of his children did not observe the laws of Shabbat. But he still wanted to keep them close to him, and unified as a family. So he told them that they should at least observe erev Shabbat (Friday evening) according to the law: be home before sunset to light candles, sing Shalom Aleichim, recite kiddush and motzi, to discuss the weekly Torah reading, and eat together as a family. Perhaps when they get older, theyll return to religion and keep Shabbat fully. The rabbi listened but did not reply. After that, however, he announced that the entrance gate to the community - which until then had been closed on Shabbat - would remain open. When I mentioned to the son that the issue of open/closed parking lots in American Orthodox shuls is sometimes a contentious issue, he was surprised to hear that a shul would even consider such a thing. His parents moshav (community) has a single synagogue for all its 1500 residents. No one drives anywhere near it on Shabbat and Yom Tov. Everybody walks to services, even those who are not generally observant. And when he drives on the street on Shabbat, he lets those walking pass first, in order to show respect for the place, the people, the Shabbat, and the religion. The sons sister listened to this. She said that, as a young girl she was not interested in religious matters. When she got older, she went many times to India to learn from a yogi. After a while, she realized that much of what the yogi taught her, her father has said years before. When she told her father that, he was pleased: If I planted and he (the yogi) watered and now you have grown into a beautiful plant, a decent person - then kol hakavod (much respect) to him. The daughter went on to say that when she does perform mitzvot bein adam laMakom (which connect Man to God, such as kindling Shabbat candles, reciting Psalms, etc), she knows and feels in heart that God is near her and watches over her. She also said that some (but certainly not most) of her fathers grandchildren are quite observant, including some who teach religious studies. My impressions of these stories? I agree with this brother and sister that their father acted wisely in his familys circumstances. (In fact, the family dynamic reminds me in many ways of the relationship between my fathers non-observant family and my fathers religious grandfather.) I can see, too, how the rabbi of the moshav may have acted wisely, given his overall perception of the observance and knowledge level of the areas families. I also admire the daughters obviously sincere faith in God, and her admiration and respect for her father. The sons principled commitment to respecting others as well as - as he also told me - his ongoing commitment, as a teacher of young people, to intentionally transmit that respect for others and for religion to the next generation. But ultimately, the history of American Jewry has shown what the end of such heartwarming attitudes and such an approach to religion will be. Since they are too ephemeral and personal to pass on with certitude to subsequent generations, assimilation will - as has already happened - eventually overwhelm subsequent generations of this family. True, to the extent they remain in Israel, they will likely remain secular Jewish Israelis. But similar attitudes and practices outside of Israel ultimately are the first step towards the dissolution of our people, intermarriage, and the like. When I read to them my above summary of their stories - including my reactions to them - they appreciated it greatly and agreed with what I had written. It was hard not to notice that the daughter was reading a book about the life of Rabbi Akiva while the son was reading an Israeli book called: A Heretic Against His Will, written by someone reared in a religious family from Tzfat who abandoned religious practice.
Posted on: Tue, 29 Jul 2014 22:44:18 +0000
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