The Differences Among Us

No scene of recent memory distressed me more than the news photo of an Israeli policeman lifting his baton against a bearded, black-hatted Jew in Jerusalem. The ultra-Orthodox were demonstrating against the violation by secular Jews of a ban on the public showing of films on the Sabbath.

Ironically, the police themselves were forced to desecrate the Sabbath to maintain order as the fundamentalists acted on Shabbat against the Sabbath violators.

How lamentable that the secularists chose confrontation rather than respect the long-standing tacit ban on the showing of public cinema on Friday nights. How unfortunate that the pious demand of all adherence to their form of observance.

Here in America, where Jews are a tiny, scattered minority in a democratic and non-Jewish society, we can and do largely skirt in our daily lives the matters of religion that estrange us from each other. We find a way to get along and cannot fathom religious strife in any other society.

But in the Jewish land of Israel — and especially in the holy city of Jerusalem — it is an unavoidable subject.

On this particularly divisive issue of Sabbath cinema my gut feeling tells me the equities were on the side of the black-hatted ones.

Jerusalem is a uniquely holy city, and the sensibilities of the ultra-Orthodox are deeply offended by such blatant desecration of the Sabbath. Continuing to do without public cinema on the Sabbath would fall well within the bounds of religious comity without unduly restraining individual freedom of choice.

The greatest internal problem in Israel today could be the escalating friction between the religious and the secular. As we start a new Jewish year, it behooves us to reflect on our value to each other. Jews of differing religious views can and should live together harmoniously.

Religion doesn't lend itself to rational discussion nor does it fit into logical slots. To be truly religious takes an act of faith, nothing less. Such unquestioning belief is not always appreciated or comprehended by non-believers.

But being truly religious is not the only measure of being Jewish. We Jews come in many varieties and outlooks.

Historically, the religious element is most vital and indispensable if children are to accede to such a system. Presumably, I was comfortable with giving my children such final option because I did trust their judgment.

In any event, it worked for us and we all benefited from it.

It doesn't mean that we saw eye to eye on most matters, but at least I was more aware of what was going on with them and I had the opportunity to make my oracular contribution. Quite often, after initial recalcitrance, they would modify their position as a result of my input, without necessarily informing me or conceding anything.

The most gratifying by-product of this two-way communication was that I learned to listen to them and discover how they felt. In the process of integrating that information, I become a much more understanding and effective father. It certainly was a marvelous bridge for the so-called generation gap. Truly, their sharing with me was the single most essential ingredient in my growth as a parent. While that did not happen instantly and was rather tortuous at times, it did enable me ultimately to relate to my children in a more sympathetic and comprehensive manner.

Unquestionably, I learned as much from them as they did from me in the exchanges. Not best of my ability I tried to be the kind of father that I cared to liked for myself.

Lest it sound too facile, let me hasten to add that it didn't all flow smoothly in textbook fashion, and there were blowups and setbacks along the way. In eclectic fashion I learned incident by incident, episode by episode, and I made my share of mistakes. It was truly on-the-job training, and I venture to guess that I was a more relaxed and knowledgeable father to my youngest child than to my eldest.

While I believe that open lines of communication between parent and child are essential to a healthy relationship (just as they are for spouses and peers), I feel more lucky than smug that it happened to work for me.

I made many trade-offs in my career because I wanted to devote more time to my children. Success is more than making a lot of money.

Measured by naches from my children, I feel prosperous, indeed.