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Oct. 6, 2006
The orthodoxy of young Richard
As he became more religious, his mother wondered where she may
have gone wrong.
BRENDA YABLON AISH.COM
I was pacing in my hotel room at the Hyatt in Jerusalem, eagerly
awaiting the arrival of my 19-year-old-son, Richard, whom I hadn't
seen in six months. He was spending his junior year at the Hebrew
University in Jerusalem, as I had done 30 years earlier. It was
Saturday morning, so things were pretty dull for a secular Jew such
as myself. I was relying on Richard to provide some amusement. Perhaps
we would visit the Arab shuk.
Finally, there was a knock on the door and I opened it to find my
adorable son. After we embraced warmly, he said, "Mom, we're
invited to the rabbi's house for lunch."
"What rabbi?" I asked, as much perplexed as alarmed.
"You'll see. Just come with me," was Richard's not very
reassuring answer. This was not what I had in mind for amusement.
After about a 15-minute walk, we arrived at a relatively new apartment
building and Richard led me confidently to the right door. This
was obviously not his first visit. A very young Canadian rabbi and
his wife from Vancouver (our home town) greeted us as we entered
their clean but sparsely furnished apartment. Seated around their
dining room table were about 10 North American students, both boys
and girls, all of whom were spending the year at the Hebrew University.
The impression that I formed immediately was that here were a group
of youngsters, feeling lonely and isolated, away from home for perhaps
the first time, ripe for conversion by religious zealots, and my
son was among them. I remember distinctly wanting to get us out
of there as quickly as possible, without being impolite.
When the lunch was finally over and we were just the two of us again,
I confronted Richard. "What was that about?" I asked him,
my annoyance scarcely disguised.
"Mom, I might as well tell you. I am getting closer to Orthodox
Judaism. It feels right for me. I think it contains a lot of truth."
"What truth?" I countered. "You're young and vulnerable
and ripe for the picking!"
The discussion/argument continued for a few minutes longer. I soon
resolved to let it go, knowing that I would not get anywhere and
that to persist would do more harm than good.
The rest of my time with Richard in Israel passed pleasantly and
I think we both silently resolved that it would be best not to raise
the issue again. I left Israel hoping that this was just a rebellious
phase that he was going through and that he would come to his senses
once back in Canada, once again becoming a good secular Jew.
Another planet
This was not the case. Upon his return to Canada, Richard stubbornly
clung to orthodoxy. He gave up the nights of beer drinking and partying
with his buddies. He no longer ate in non-kosher restaurants. He
went to synagogue on a regular basis. He joined a study group. He
made my life difficult with rules of kashrut. He went back to Israel
for a year to study in a yeshivah.
"What has befallen me?" I lamented to my best friend,
Morley. "Where have I gone wrong? It's like I have a kid who
lives on another planet."
"It could be worse, Brenda," Morley said by way of comfort.
"Richard could have joined a cult."
When I reflected on it, I began to see that Richard's espousing
of Orthodox Judaism was not such a radical departure from who he
was. He had always been spiritually inclined. Even as a child, he
pondered the big questions, which he would often pose to me. "If
God is everywhere, why can't I see him?" "What happens
to a person's spirit after he dies?"
I recall that when he was in third grade at Vancouver Talmud Torah,
he brought home a report card full of C's in Hebrew studies. His
teachers knew he could do better and were not amused at his self-appointed
role of class clown. I told him that if he couldn't do better the
next term, he would find himself in a public school. The next term,
he achieved mostly A's and a couple of B's. Astonished by this turnaround,
I asked him for an explanation. "I didn't want to give up studying
Torah," he said. "It's fun."
Early evidence notwithstanding, as a mother I was more concerned
about my son's happiness and well-being. Was this new religious
path having a good influence on his life? I began to see that undeniably,
he was becoming a happier, more fulfilled person. A passion for
argument fuelled by temper gave way to a well-reasoned, respectful
exchange of ideas. Blame and accusation were transformed into understanding
and acceptance. Impatience and dogmatic opinion were replaced by
compassion and tolerance. Equally important, the people in his community
shared the same attitudes and values. How could I not be pleased
with my son's choices?
My son's "religious conversion" has also had an enormous
influence on our relationship. Perhaps initially motivated by the
desire to fulfil the commandment of honoring his mother, over the
years Richard has created a relationship with me based on mutual
respect and devotion. It has opened the door for us to get to know
each other in a very authentic way, to discover how similar we are
in our humor, outlook and general sensibilities. Though we live
3,000 miles apart, we have developed a closeness and genuine affection.
We have a wonderful friendship, of which I am very proud. I honestly
don't think this would have come about to the degree that it has
had he not become Orthodox.
The right woman
I did have one major area of complaint. Despite many introductions,
Richard couldn't seem to meet the right woman. I was worried.
And then he found her, his basherte, Orthodox, of course, and a
mirror image of his own excellent values.
It gives me great naches to see what a wonderful husband my son
is, both from a Jewish point of view and as a measure of who he
is as a person. When I asked him where he learned to be such a good
husband, he replied, "I'm not sure. Either from watching my
rabbi with his wife or from my TV days watching Bill Cosby with
his."
It has surprised me to realize that through my son's journey of
discovery, my own connection to practising Judaism has been strengthened
in subtle ways. I have a greater awareness of the Sabbath and holiday
traditions. I have begun to light Sabbath candles. I hosted a Passover
seder. Richard and I often have stimulating discussions on issues
of custom and Jewish law. Although I still view myself as a secular
Jew, I am very proud to have a son who mentors and inspires me to
a stronger connection to my own heritage.
Brenda Yablon was a teacher, journalist, film critic and
television personality. She now runs a bed and breakfast in Vancouver.
This article is reprinted courtesy of Aish Hatorah Resources.
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