BEFORE YOU GO…
Trading a frazzled Shabbat for one that makes me grateful PARENTING JULIE LEVINE
Julie Levine is a Bay Area writer. She lives in San Francisco with her husband and two children.
Every Friday night, when our kids were younger, I’d make Shabbat dinner special. We’d eat in the dining room, and use my fancy dishes. I’d up my game in the cooking department — a departure from what I cooked during the week, which was a little simpler and had fewer dishes. Celebrating this weekly holiday with my family was important to me — the springboard and the starting point for a Jewish home. I wanted to be good at it. But it wasn’t always easy. Preparing Shabbat dinner meant more time cooking — and more cleanup. The kids were little, and I’d want them to sit for longer than they’d sit for a regular meal during the week. Often I’d end up nagging them. We’d go around the table and talk about a highlight of our week, but our kids were probably too young, and they’d answer with something goofy and then break out in giggles. I would compare myself to other Jewish mothers, imagining that their kids (at our kids’ ages) were perfectly well-mannered during their Shabbat dinners, never fidgeting at the table, never whining, or accidentally spilling their soup or juice all over the floor. I envisioned their kids volunteering to recite the blessings without being nudged, that they were insightful when called on to talk about a highlight of their week. I imagined these women, come Friday, weren’t tired at all (like I was), their kitchens were always clean (unlike mine), the food they made was always delicious. I wondered: Would I still have a good Jewish home if I couldn’t get this right? It did get easier as the kids got older. I learned how to streamline my cooking and spend less time in the kitchen. The kids sat for longer, too. Sometimes we’d invite another family over, and that was nice. But eventually I realized that after a full week of cooking dinners, making lunches, preparing snacks, schlepping my kids here and there, on Friday I
wanted a break. It felt like Shabbat was for everyone in my family but me. Once the kids were in upper middle school, I took the pressure off, scrapped cooking dinner many, but not all Friday nights, and never really looked back. We then created a new Shabbat tradition. I’d pick up the kids from school and come straight home. A couple of hours after some downtime, we’d get in our pajamas and order take-out, eating dinner on paper plates in the kitchen, lighting the candles, singing the blessings beforehand. I let the conversation flow naturally, wouldn’t push the kids to talk about their day at school, nor try to pull out of them a highlight of their week if they didn’t feel like talking. It felt special and separate from the week. And though there’s been a lot of talk about “unplugging,” I decided to give myself permission to not feel pressured to get that right, either. Most Friday nights, after our casual dinner, we’d flop onto the couch with a big bowl of popcorn and watch a movie. Technology, including the TV, was sometimes present. The kids weren’t off in their rooms texting their friends, or checking Instagram, or playing Minecraft. We were together and we were all loving our new Shabbat tradition. And this year, with one kid at college and one still at home, our Shabbat routine has evolved yet again. My hubby and I have started to occasionally attend services on Friday nights, and we then eat dinner with our son afterward. After years of raising children, I love this time in synagogue just for me and also with my hubby. Here’s what I’ve learned: Shabbat is about giving myself a break from expectation, from trying to think I have to do it all. It’s about being kind to myself, clearing away the noise and being fully present, embracing all that I am grateful and thankful for. n
Is it OK for my daughter to visit a Christian Sunday school? MIXED & MATCHED DAWN KEPLER
Dawn Kepler leads Building Jewish Bridges, a program of Hamaqom I The Place that embraces Bay Area interfaith families. “Mixed & Matched” offers advice for Jews in interfaith relationships and families. Send letters to dawn@ buildingjewishbridges.org.
Dear Dawn: My daughter is 4 and we are raising her Jewish. My husband’s Christian parents attend a very progressive Presbyterian church. We have all attended services with them on occasion. However, our daughter is getting to the age where we need to explain the difference between Grandma and Grandpa’s church and Christianity and our synagogue and that we are Jewish. We are planning for Leah to attend a day of Sunday school at their church, because her dad is doing a small teacher presentation. The class has a candle lighting and prayer, and the topic will be the Ten Commandments (I think there will be a story and maybe a song). How do we prepare her for what she will experience? Am I doing the wrong thing by even letting her attend the class? I am nervous about it, but I think it will be OK if we use the right language to explain things to her. I just don’t know what words to use. How do we explain the difference between her grandparents’ church and our synagogue? — Worried Mom Dear Worried: It is extremely normal to be confused about what to say and how to explain the different religions in your family. At 4, your daughter can understand a lot; she thinks concretely and cares deeply about her family members, including her grandparents. She learns readily from stories. With this in mind, I suggest that you explain to Leah that your immediate family goes to the synagogue and learns the Jewish stories about the Jewish people. Mention some of the stories that she will remember. Maybe she just learned about Purim, or can recall stories about Hanukkah. These are Jewish stories, her stories. Grandpa and Grandma have different stories. As Christians, they love some of the Jewish stories, too, but their main story is about Jesus. If she asks who Jesus is, you can explain that he was a nice Jewish man who lived a long time ago. After he died, Christians decided that he was God and they have a lot of stories about him. Jews don’t believe that a person
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can also be God, not even a nice Jewish person. But it’s OK that other people have these stories. Just like her favorite Disney movie might be “Frozen” and a friend’s favorite might be “Cinderella.” You can have different ideas and accept that you don’t totally agree with people you love. Tell her that when she goes to church she may hear stories, including about the Ten Commandments, that sound sort of like ones she hears at synagogue. Encourage her to ask questions about whatever she finds different or confusing. If it is permissible, she can ask there. Or she can whisper her questions to Dad and he can help her remember to talk about them at home. Observing your religion is similar to how you celebrate your birthday. Leah may like to have a lemon cake for her birthday, but at her friend’s party, she’ll eat whatever kind of cake is served. Her friend might want a doll for a present, while Leah prefers a fire truck. Both things are presents but they are different because different people like different things. We don’t make unkind remarks just because something isn’t our preference. As for membership at your shul, you can tell her that you are members and that her grandparents are members of their church. She’ll probably understand. You can compare it to going to a particular preschool — that one is “yours.” Additionally, you may want to tell her that she is part of all the Jewish people, so any synagogue she ever wants to go to, she can. You could tell her the story you told me: When you were hiking around Europe, you looked for a shul so that someone would help you find a place to stay. You can describe this as one big family. So if someone came to your house and said, “I’m Cousin Joan,” you’d bring her in and make her welcome. That’s what you do with family. Don’t worry about her visiting the Christian Sunday school. As she grows up, she will learn about many Christian sites. This one is special because it “belongs” to her grandparents. n
