High Holidays are upon us and so is my eternal maternal angst. My oldest son, Levi, loves the High Holidays. He’s 14, loves Judaism and his biggest joy is being able to receive an aliyah on the bimah now that he’s crossed into Jewish adulthood. You’d think I’d done something right on the parenting side of things to raise such a mensch.
Then there’s my youngest, Eli, age 10. Also a mensch, so please don’t misunderstand. He’s good and he’s kind and he has a heart of gold, much like his brother. Only Eli’s golden heart exists deep within his playful exterior and often requires extensive excavation to access it. As for Judaism, it’s “not really his thing,” he likes to tell me.
As much as High Holiday services captivate Levi, they stultify his brother. “How much longer are we gonna be here?” is the constant drone I hear coming from Eli’s direction. “This is soooooooo boring. Can I pleeeeaaaase use your iPhone?” Where have I gone wrong?
In my saner moments, I’m pretty sure that both boys’ varying reactions to High Holy Day services have nothing to do with me, my parenting skills or how delightfully captivating my rabbi is (and she truly is both delightful and captivating). Some kids just seem to have a Jewish “neshamah,” or soul, as my grandparents used to say. It’s beyond obvious in my older son. But what do you do when your child doesn’t seem at all interested in Judaism, prayer or sitting still for more than three seconds?
Eli insists that he has to be excused from services to go to the bathroom at least once every 10 minutes. At first I seriously worried about his incessant need to urinate. Isn’t that an early warning sign of diabetes? Luckily I figured out rather swiftly that the only relief gained by those frequent trips to the restroom was one of stretching his legs and getting to briefly join his friends playing outside in the courtyard. (I deduced this early on when I noticed that he would always return out of breath, sweaty and without his kippah and necktie.)
“All my friends’ parents let them play outside,” he would moan as he begrudgingly reseated himself in the sanctuary. “Well,” I would counter, “I’m not like all your friends’ parents.” Boy that was an impressive comeback; quick-witted and thoughtfully opined … or NOT. I don’t know what to say or do, and it seems painfully obvious to both Eli and myself that I am waffling on this issue.
If I let him play outside, I think maybe he’ll have fun and have positive associations with coming to services on High Holidays. Can it be good to force him to sit here in misery listening to prayer after prayer, none of which seem to resonate at all with who he is? Then again, if he sits here year after year, he’ll subconsciously learn the nigguns and might actually find comfort in their tunes a decade from now when he finds himself struggling and alone at Hillel on some college campus 2,000 miles from home. On the other hand, as my good friend Tevya says, “There is no other hand.”
I want Eli to sit quietly, soak in the goodness of holiday prayer and allow the messages of wisdom to infuse his growing soul. But I must confess that I shared his sentiments as a child. My frequent trips to the bathroom at Lincolnwood Jewish Congregation in Chicago were legendary. I must’ve rebraided my hair in that bathroom 7,000 times during one particularly grueling Rosh Hashanah sermon.
If I were to be perfectly candid, I’d also tell you that I still find it challenging to sit through services at times. But as an adult, I know better than to say that out loud. Oops. I guess putting it in print sort of serves as an audible pronouncement.
Rabbi Mari Chernow, senior rabbi at Temple Chai in Phoenix, has great insight into this dilemma. “First of all,” she tells me, “kids of all ages and personalities are crucially important members of our community. I love having them at the synagogue wherever they are – in the sanctuary, the courtyard, the lobby, crawling underneath their chairs, wherever. It’s cliché but entirely true – there is no Jewish future without our children.”
Rabbi Chernow also believes that kids get a lot out of being at synagogue, whether or not they’re praying in a traditional manner. “I often see kids who have been in and out of the sanctuary humming the tunes when they leave.” She tells me. “I also see those who appear to be paying attention to something else, for example a book, look up from time to time and tune into a powerful prayerful moment.”
Rabbi Chernow acknowledges that kids often have short attention spans, and she recommends compromises like having them stay in the service until a certain prayer. Or if they are studying certain tunes in religious school, make sure they are present when those prayers are sung. Another option Rabbi Chernow cites is “Pick a few of your favorite prayers and make sure that they are present with you to share those moments (or, alternatively, excuse them for those prayers so that you can have the time to yourself ).”
“As always,” Rabbi Chernow reminds, “the most important thing parents can do to influence their children is to act as a role model. What they hear from you about why prayer is meaningful and important will stay with them for the rest of their lives, even if they don’t agree at this moment.”
Debra Rich Gettleman is a mother and blogger based in the Phoenix area. For more of her work, visit unmotherlyinsights.com.
