Our PTJL Blog Has Moved!

Hello Everyone,

We wanted to let you know that our Parenting Through a Jewish Lens blog has moved. You can now see all current and past blogs at http://blog.hebrewcollege.edu/parenting

Come and visit us there to read more about our writer's experiences with PTJL.

Best,
Marcy Leiman
Associate Director
Parenting Through a Jewish Lens

Our Children Are Not Us by Rabbi David Jaffe

In the 1990s film classic, Austin Powers, Dr. Evil has a clone who he calls “Mini-me.”  The mini-me looks just like Dr. Evil except he is one eighth his size.  When my first son was younger I had a secret hope that he would be my mini-me.  He would love playing soccer and studying Torah.  He would be active politically in his elementary school and of course be an avid reader.  If I let myself indulge this fantasy, I wanted him to be exactly like I was as a young person! A Mini-me. 

Of course, our children are not mini-me’s.  But really accepting this fact is harder than it seems.  My son is a fun, wonderful, delicious boy .  He is a late reader and likes baseball instead of soccer.  He likes science and math and is a kinesthetic learner.  He is not particularly fond of learning Torah.  These differences cause me more pain than I like to admit.   

In our Arlington Parenting Through a Jewish Lens class we just studied the great Reb Zusia story.  The Hassidic master Reb Zusia is lying on his deathbed crying. His students ask him why he is crying since he has been such a faithful Jew his whole life.  He responds, “when I get to heaven they won’t ask me why weren’t you more like Moses.  They will ask me, why weren’t you more like Zusia.  Then what will I say?”

This brief, powerful story cuts right to one of life’s central tasks – to be our true selves.  As adults we all know how challenging that can be given the myriad of expectations put on us by parents, colleagues, friends, spouses and others. 

Teaching this story the other day it struck me how central this idea is for us as parents.  While I may want a mini-me, this is not my job as a parent.  My job is to help my son know who he is, on his own terms.  I need to stop using my own life as a measuring stick by which to evaluate my son.  Really seeing him and his unique Neshama/soul and reflecting what I see back to him is a great gift.  We all needed our parents to do that for us.  Now we get the chance to offer this gift to our children, this gift of themselves.   

Rabbi David Jaffe is the school chaplain at Gann Academy: The New Jewish High School and the founder and dean of The Kirva Institute for Torah and Spiritual Practice. A graduate of the Columbia University School of Social Work and the Jewish Theological Seminary Communal Service program, Jaffe received his rabbinic ordination from the Bat Ayin Yeshiva in Israel. He is a veteran Parenting Through a Jewish Lens instructor and has taught widely throughout the Boston community. 

Parenting Through a Jewish Lens by Tilia Klebenov Jacobs

            “Modeh ani l’fanecha….”

            A group of moms and dads sits around a table in the synagogue library, eager to see what centuries of prayer and rabbinic wisdom can tell us about how to raise our kids. It’s the first day of parenting class, and we are squinting through our Jewish lenses.  The first topic is the Hebrew prayer that greets the dawn. 

As I begin a new day

I thank you God our ruler

For waking my soul with compassion.

You have great faith in me.

            Privately I feel that if God has great faith in me, there are days when I question his judgment.  But there is no doubt His nachas (pride and joy) is a boost to the ego.

            My kids have faith in me, too.  They have no idea how much I am making up on the fly.

            My mother died unexpectedly when I was a teenager.  My father was perhaps not the most attentive parent, especially after that.  Thus, as a mom I often find myself baffled.  Where do I go from here?  What do I do now? 

            No matter your background, however, bewilderment is a given for parenting; which is why we turn to each other.

            No one should have to parent alone:  the task is too vast, too complex.  Until very recently, the concept of solo parenting—the idea that one adult should single-handedly feed, clean, clothe, educate, and ethically guide her brood—would have been greeted with uncomprehending derision.  In most times and places, parents have had lots of help, whether from family or neighbors or religious community.  Today, not everyone has those options, so we build a network as we can. 

            It’s a challenge.

            Our class chips at that challenge.  As we chat our way through Modeh Ani, I mention that my Episcopalian mother taught me the classic Christian “Now I Lay Me Down to Sleep.”  I converted to Judaism, as did my husband shortly after we married.  This sparks a response in Sarah, whose husband is a largely lapsed but occasionally observant Protestant.  Leah and her husband Abe come from a more traditional Jewish background, but the dawn-happy prayer is new for them too.

            “I think one of the strengths of our group is the variety of backgrounds we have here,” says the rabbi. 

            True.  Diversity builds strength, and multiple points of view grant insight.  The struggles of parenting are nothing new, so why not let the wisdom of the millennia do the heavy lifting?  If we have a challenge, let’s see what our tradition has to say about it.

            “What a powerful message,” says one mom as she rereads Modeh Ani.  “It reminds you that each person is unique but ordinary.”

            “And that we all have tasks that are ours alone,” says another.

            “What does it mean that God has faith in us?” says the rabbi.  “How is that different from our having faith in God?”

            “And why is that important to a child?”

            As we discuss, my classmates morph from cheerful strangers to fellow students to companions on the road of Jewish parenting. Bending over text study, a Jewish activity as old as Judaism, we are bound together by words and wisdom.

Tilia Klebenov Jacobs is a teacher and author in the Greater Boston Area.  She and her husband are the proud parents of a son and a daughter.  Her book, Wrong Place, Wrong Time, is a thriller whose central character is a Jewish mother ensnared in a hostage drama.

To find out more about Parenting Through a Jewish Lens, visit our website at www.hebrewcollege.edu/parenting

Do You Have a Box of Grumblies at Your Seder?

By Marcy Leiman 

Parenting Through a Jewish Lens had a fabulous event at Hebrew College on March 30—   Matzah Matters attracted nearly 70 parents, children, educators and community members.  The afternoon included two learning sessions: Rabbi Benjamin Samuels discussed ways to make the Haggadah and the Seder your own, and Elisha Gechter presented various commentators on the Haggadah.  I attended Rabbi Samuels’ session.

Reflecting on our discussion, two points stayed with me:  1. prepare for and invest in the Passover Seder, and 2. keep everyone at the table.  In reference to the first point, in my family, I am the one who invites the guests, cleans the house, buys the food, cooks the meal, sets the table and prepares the dessert. How much more can I prepare and invest? What more can I give to my Seder? Rabbi Samuels suggested that we invest in a good Haggadah.  Ah, this is something that my family has not done. We’ve used the same maroon and yellow Passover Haggadah for the past twelve years. It’s antiquated; there are no color pictures, nothing for my two-year-old and six-year-old children to get excited about. Yes, this is something that we needed to do.  Immediately after coming home from Matzah Matters, my husband and I logged onto Haggadahs-R-Us http://www.haggadahsrus.com/ and ordered Noam Zion and David Dishon’s A Different Night Family Participation Haggadah. I am excited to try this Haggadah out with my family this year, to spice up our Seder and invest /prepare a bit more.

Rabbi Samuels’ second point was to keep everyone at the table. What? My cooking and Martha Stewart-esque set table are not enough to keep everyone at the table? Rabbi Samuels showed us a “box of grumblies” that he uses at his Seder. This box contains little tchotchkes; simple games, Passover-themed costumes, and various knick-knacks. If someone (regardless of whether an adult or a child) asks a good question during the Seder, they get to wear a special costume. If children get hungry or antsy, Rabbi Samuels invites them to pick something out of the box of grumblies. The point:  the mitzvah of having a Seder is for everyone at the table to hear the story of Exodus from Egypt. Everyone must be present and engaged. Some may call it bribery; Rabbi Samuels calls it “box of grumblies.”

So, with our new Haggadot, our ten plagues finger puppets, jumping frogs and Ping-Pong balls for locusts, our family is ready with our own box of grumblies, our own new Seder. I encourage you to re-evaluate your Seder, question what you’ve always done and perhaps invest in your own Passover box of grumblies.

 Marcy Leiman is the Associate Director of Parenting Through a Jewish Lens. She lives in Needham with her husband and two children. 

Recreating Passover Memories for Our Children

Recreating Passover Memories for Our Children

By Elisha Gechter Scallions transformed into the whips of Egyptian task masters, an imaginary suitcase for a journey from Egypt to the Promised Land and someone in an embroidered Egyptian ensemble—these are my childhood memories from the Passover seders my family and I enjoyed with friends in their very eclectic home. Our friends had nine children; the father was from Brooklyn and always ready for a debate, and the mother was from Egypt and incorporated many Sephardic customs that brought Passover off the page for me. Seder evening always felt exotic with them—there were so many differently spiced foods, boisterous songs and lengthy discussions. Plus I was pretty enamored to know someone from that faraway land where the Hagaddah scenes transpired. Leading up to the holiday my mom would work on sewing me a new dress that I would anticipate showing off at these seders (it’s a tradition to have something new to wear before Passover!). She would let me select the pattern and choose the material, and then she got to work on her pedal-powered Singer. Now, as a working mom, I have no idea how she had time for this while teaching elementary school full-time. Her efforts certainly made the holiday feel a little more special. But then one year, Passover changed for our family—our friends and their nine children realized a lifelong dream to move to Israel. They made it to the “Promised Land” and we were left at our much smaller, much less exotic Passover table. Without the banter, costumes and scallions, we felt lost. With only a half-dozen voices joining in on the seasonal songs, it felt less like a celebration. After that first time of us flying solo at the seder, at the age of 8 I asked my dad if I could try leading the seder the following night. In a way that would have pleased Sheryl Sandberg, I leaned in, or rather I leaned to my left side as instructed by the Haggadah, and took the reins. I don’t remember too many details from the first seders under my helm, but they were well-received, and I felt so good leading them. The head of the seder table was one of the places that I grew to love Jewish conversations, Jewish learning and Jewish teaching. We incorporated some of the traditions from our Egyptian/Brooklyn friends and continued to glean new ideas from various Haggadahs. I instituted changes over the years that at first felt like a departure but are now part of our traditions. For example, we didn’t always read everything out loud; passages were sometimes looked over with a partner. And we didn’t always wait until we finished telling the story to eat the parsley and potatoes dipped in salt water—we sometimes snacked on crudités and dips. There have been times when we spent Passover away from home at wonderfully adventurous destinations, including Israel, Prague and Puerto Rico. But when we were part of those bigger communal seders, I missed our smaller family discussions and the memories we had built. Now, as I continue to lead our family seders, my attention turns to not only keeping the adults around the table intellectually stimulated but also to finding customs that will speak to my one-and-a-half-year old daughter, Zoe. She is the only seder guest under age 27! I want to recreate that whole-body experience I had with our Sephardic friends. It’s a lot to live up to, and right now I’m focusing on baby steps. We’ve been singing a lot of “Dayenu” thanks to the PJ Library, using matzah stickers to chat about this new food (she’s a huge challah freak!), and soon I want to pick out a dress with her from her collection that she hasn’t yet worn and designate it as her “seder dress.” So that’s how we’ll start off—we’ll pay attention to props, songs and matzah ball soup and build toward next year, when maybe she’ll be able to sing along to the Four Questions with us and pack something in that imaginary suitcase. I invite you to join one of the many Parenting Through a Jewish Lens classes that Hebrew College and CJP are offering this fall—it provides an opportunity to discuss with other parents how you make Judaism come alive in your home. Elisha Gechter is the associate director of community engagement at Hebrew College’s adult learning department. She also does community organizing and teaching for Eser and Parenting Through a Jewish Lens. She lives in Cambridge with her husband, Sam, and daughter, Zoe.

Do You Have a Red Bandana? by Rabbi Emily Mathis and Rabbi Deborah Zuker

Rabbi Emily Mathis and Rabbi Deborah Zuker are Parenting Through a Jewish Lens instructors at Temple Ner Tamid in the North Shore. 

 

Purim is by far the silliest, most playful holiday on the Jewish calendar. Children in particular enjoy the customs of Purim - dressing up in costumes, cheering the heroes Mordechai and Esther and booing the villain Haman, eating hamantashen (be they poppy-, apricot-, or chocolate-filled). It may seem amid all this silliness that Purim is a holiday primarily for children.

Actually, there are many aspects and themes to Purim that are very much intended for adults. Purim costumes customarily include gender-bending; the humor of the Purim-shpiel (an amateur play that tells the Purim story) is often adult and full of timely and inside jokes, and there is a commandment to drink alcohol to the point where one can no longer tell the difference between Mordechai and Haman (not for children!). For the intellectuals among us, the story of Purim includes many nuanced and mature themes: What is the role of God in human affairs? What is the experience of Jews living as a minority amid a majority culture? Do we hide our Jewishness? Do we try to 'pass'? What is the appropriate moral response to the suffering of our enemies? How do we reveal the hidden or uncertain aspects of who we are?

As parents, we think an awful lot about what behaviors and values we model for our kids. We say 'please' and 'thank you' so that they will learn politeness. We clean up after ourselves so that they will learn cleanliness. In the realm of Jewish modeling, we say blessings on Friday night so that they will learn to value Shabbat. We refrain from eating bread during Passover so that they will learn Jewish history and narrative, and identifying with the stranger. We help them with their Bar or Bat Mitzvah studies because we want to show that we value Jewish learning and engagement.

But in addition to the important but more serious aspects of life, do we also pay attention to modeling silliness and playfulness for our kids – in our Jewish lives? Or do we model breaking out of our familiar ways of being in the world, developing flexibility in who we are? They dress up and enjoy Purim, but do you, as a parent, also dress up and enjoy Purim? When we model Jewish living for our children, we must be conscious of modeling ALL of it – no part of Judaism is only for children. Jewish living is a life-long pursuit. It is a full-bodied experience.

So do you have a red bandana? You don't need a fancy store-bought costume to get into the Purim spirit along with your kids. A red (or any color) bandana, a plaid shirt and jeans, and you are instantly transformed into a farmer for Purim. Voilà! Happy Purim!

Parenting Through a Jewish Lens - Reflection

My experience in parenting has been a mix of small triumphs and an unexpected and often overwhelming sense of love and pride…. coupled with the somewhat ongoing question of whether my husband and I are doing this “right” at all.

Five months ago my eldest son (age 5) asked me about G-d. Who was he? Who made him? What happens when you die? Is there really a light inside of us? Does G-d live in your heart? (He asks a lot of questions). And when I found myself staring at him caught between what I “think” I believe, what my parents taught me, what my husband believes, what his family taught him, and what we want our sons to believe – well I basically replied with a giant “hmmmmmm…I need to think about that overnight.”

I actually need to think about that over many nights – and Parenting Through a Jewish Lens has given me that gift over the last twelve weeks. I have greatly enjoyed the chance to speak with other parents who are considering how to bring together their upbringing, personal beliefs, partner’s beliefs and hopes and dreams for their children’s futures. The class has provided historical context, the understanding that asking the question WHY is critical in Judaism, and a safe group of individuals who are open to sharing the joys and fears that arise in parenting. For me, a particular gift has been taking the class with other people who are in interfaith partnerships.

For many years I’ve worried about how to make a Jewish home with two different family backgrounds, but through this class, I’ve been able to tease out the parts of my Jewish upbringing that feel most critical to replicate, and that I can change and adapt for my home. I also better understand now which of my personal values are rooted firmly (and unchangeably) in rich Jewish tradition. This class has given me the tools to speak to my children about the universal religious values that my husband and I share – while understanding the importance and power of Jewish practice in our home so our children can live and experience what it means to be Jewish, and ultimately part of a Jewish community.

My eldest son asked me last week if I had gotten the answers to his questions. (I told him my class was helping me with that). While my answers may not be very polished at this point, I can answer the questions with much more information and joy than I did that night a few months back. I can also tell him that there is often more than one answer to some questions, and that -in our tradition – we learn by asking and talking and asking again (and talking and asking AGAIN). With the freedom to learn in this class, and also in Jewish life, the path of parenting feels just a touch easier to navigate -- and I now look forward more confidently to the questions that lie ahead.

Jill Kantrowitz Kunkel 

Noticing The Good, Doing The Good.

A child takes her lunch box from her backpack and brings it to the kitchen.  How can this  be a sacred act?  This question came up in the Parenting Through a Jewish Lens class that I am leading at Shir Tikvah in Winchester.   Why is it sacred you may ask? Isn't it just common courtesy to help out by bringing the lunchbox in, rather than requiring the parent to hunt for it?  This past week we read Jewish texts about having responsibility for others.  One of the texts struck us deeply. Abraham Joshua Heschel said that 'No one is lonely when doing a mitzvah, for a mitzvah is where God and man meet....Such meeting, such presence, we experience in deeds.'  (God in Search of Man)

One of the highest goals for our children is for them to know that when they do things that help others, when they take responsibility to help others, they make real connections with other people, and with a sense of the Divine.   It is the way we meet the soul of another, and the way we reveal the best of ourselves.  It is one way we feel most human in the best sense of the word.  When we help another, connect with another, we meet God, and ourselves.   In another text we read during this session, Emmanuel Levinas took the idea of helping and connecting to others a step further. He suggested that we want to inculcate into our children the automatic desire to make those connections with others.  'To be a decent human being means that I should have an immediate and overwhelming sense of obligation for the other....' According to Levinas, we want our children to know the value of helping another so deeply that their first instinct will be to reach out. 

Neuroscience has discovered that we can change our brain patterns, and create new physical 'grooves' in the brain by behaving in certain ways.  Changed behaviour results in changed thinking. Therefore in our class we discussed a 'take home' assignment that I am trying in my own home. At the end of every day I am asking everyone in the family to recall kindnesses they did for others during the day.  My hope: the more we all notice the kindnesses done by us or to us, the more conscious we will be of the good feelings such actions engender and the more kindnesses we will do.  In effect, I am hoping that by noticing the good, we will all do more of it, and helping others will become more and more natural and instinctive.  

Watch this space to see if it works!

By Rabbi Marcia Plumb
Facebook: neshamahforthesoul

My Journey with Raising Jewish Children by Jackie Krendel

The day my son was born was the day my world changed.  My world is now all about him and my daughter, who was born 3 years later.  Seeing them both for the first time melted my heart as well as my husband’s.  We were both excited and anxious about the new journey we were beginning together.  During their first years, it was amazing seeing how much they changed each month.  We wondered when they would sit up, crawl, what their first word would be, and what their personalities would be like.  For me, since I am an Episcopalian, I also had so many questions about how to raise Jewish children.

Before our kids were born, we celebrated the High Holidays, Hanukkah, and Passover with my husband’s family.  We didn’t begin any traditions in our own home.  We also only went to Temple during the High Holidays and for a few Shabbat events.  We actually didn’t become members of our Temple until our son was born.  We did so because it was important to us that our children learn about their father’s heritage. 

As a working mom, I have found very little time to read the terrific books that I have on raising Jewish children.  At night, I start reading but then find myself falling asleep.  For nights, I would be reading the same few pages.  When I heard about the ‘Parenting Through a Jewish Lens’ class, I knew I had to take it.  And my husband was willing to take it with me which has led to many great talks. 

My favorite experience has been seeing how this class influenced my husband to begin saying the Sh’ma to the kids at bedtime.  Based on the PJ Library’s (terrific program) Goodnight Sh’ma book, I thought the Sh’ma was only about 3 lines long.  But after discussing the Sh’ma in class and receiving a very nice, colorful prayer page, I soon realized that was an abridged version.  I now hear both children singing part of it with my husband. 

For myself, I have found this class very enlightening on Jewish core values and the importance of community.  Even though we have discussed many great topics, I was most interested in learning how to get our children involved with helping others and understanding the importance of it.  While I have thought about doing this before, this class has motivated me even more to do it.  We both found this class to be an important and helpful stop on our journey of parenting.

So Much More Than Bagels

“Parenting Through a Jewish Lens.” Rather self-explanatory course name, one would think at first. A course on parenting, that is, raising your kids, through a Jewish lens, meaning...well, what exactly? Perhaps not as self-explanatory as one might think at first, given the broad experiences and backgrounds one can fit into the idea of being Jewish. After all, while some of us consider ourselves Jewish because of the full observance of Judaism we bring to our lives, for others eating bagels is what defines us as Jewish.

My wife Nomi and I follow what we would call an observant lifestyle under Modern Orthodox auspices. To a great extent, it would seem as if a course on parenting through a Jewish lens would be almost redundant. When our rabbi, Yonah Berman, first told us that this course was being offered at Kadimah-TorasMoshe (our shul in Brighton), we weren’t entirely sure that it was something we needed. However, the premise sounded interesting enough, and we thought that it might not be a bad thing to take this course. Although our twin preschool daughters know that we live a Jewish life, we’re always looking for more ways to emphasize how important Judaism is to us and our family. At the very least, taking the course would stress that point to them, since we would be bringing them to the site every Sunday morning for the concurrent babysitting.

As it turned out, the course has ended up being much more valuable than I ever realized.

Each week, there is a different topic on parenting that we are supposed to explore. However, our class ended up with a makeup that lends itself well to digression. Pretty much everyone in the class is a friend from Kadimah who is either a parent of young children or a prospective parent. So not only are we dealing with the same issues a lot of the time, but we’re all friends who knew each other before the class.

Even close friends, though, don’t know everything there is to know about each other. What we have found through our classes is that our instructor, Behzad Dayanim, has done an excellent job of keeping us on track while at the same time allowing us to digress. Through these digressions, we have been able to share parenting strategies and advice about raising our kids to love Judaism – both the religion and the culture.

Behzad quickly seemed to identify our areas of interest that overlapped with his own. As Nomi reminded me, for our first session, Behzad – himself a musician – brought samples of music that we could integrate into our homes and teach to our children. He quickly learned that music played an important role in the homes of almost all of the participants in the class. He has also tapped into unique elements of his own life to illustrate ways we could incorporate Jewish concepts into our daily interactions with our children. Whether it is through music or through Persian cuisine, Behzad has managed to weave his interests and ours into the curriculum provided for the class.

A few years ago, shortly after our twin daughters were born, I brought the question of Jewish parenting to a Shabbat afternoon gathering at our synagogue. I noted that I wanted to raise my kids to observe Jewish life the same way I do, but I had been struck with the realization that I myself do not live the lifestyle that my parents might have expected. I’ve met many people who grew up in observant families who became non-observant as adults; conversely, I’ve met many people who grew up non-observant – or even non-Jewish – who became active observers of Judaism as adults. How can I ensure that my kids will grow up the way I want?

Well, the answer is easy. I can’t. But what I can do is give them the tools of Judaism, the knowledge, education, and background that will allow them to more easily maintain an observant lifestyle. I can let them know through my own actions and words how important it is to me, and hope that, as they become adults, they will find the same things in it attractive to them.

Michael A. Burstein is a science-fiction writer and science curriculum editor. You can find out more about him at his website, http://www.mabfan.com. For a few years, his wife Nomi and he co-wrote the Brookline Parent column for Brookline Patch.

Milestone Moments by Rabbi Julie Zupan

I was stunned when each of my children, on separate pediatrician’s visits, ran from the doctor’s office without even glancing at the sticker bucket. On many, many previous visits, choosing the perfect sticker had been a 20 minute ordeal. Suddenly it seemed, the sticker stage was over.  

One of my favorite questions to ask groups of parents is to share a recent family milestone. My sticker bucket story is the story I love to tell. While I had anticipated many of our children’s milestones – the first step, the move from crib to the big-boy bed, the first day of kindergarten, the first drop-off playdate…there are even more that I didn’t anticipate. These are milestone moments that surprised me: when my kids gave up on the sticker bucket; when they first rode their bikes to the library without me; when they joyfully jumped off the diving board, without drama, again and again; when our cat no longer fled but let himself be petted by their small hands; when they started to wake for school by the sound of the alarm clock.

In Parenting Through a Jewish Lens, we reflected on the life course we anticipate for each of our children. We also reflected on what a Jewish life course would include. This winter, my husband and I will take our children to Israel for the first time. This is a moment I have thought a lot about; I’ve been anticipating this one for years. I want them to love Israel the way I do, to feel a connection to the people and the place.  

The traditional Jewish prayer, shehechiyanu,* acknowledges the passage of time and expresses gratitude that we are alive to experience each new season and new stage. Customarily, this particular blessing is said at the start of each Jewish holiday, when tasting fruit for the first time in its season (like strawberries in the summer), for wearing new shoes or clothing. I try to remember to say a blessing as I enter each new stage of parenting; often I enter those stages without even realizing it.

What’s the family milestone you’ve experienced most recently?  What is the blessing that you would like to say? 

* http://www.reformjudaism.org/practice/prayers-blessings/blessing-praise-shehecheyanu

Joy As Sustenance

I was recently visiting my family in Spain. My mother, sister and I were ordering some drinks in an outdoor bar, enjoying balmy Andalusian weather, when my mother, starting a conversation with the waiter asked how the financial crisis is affecting the business. He responded without missing a beat: “As long as there is money for food and laughter everything is okay”. I was struck. Really? All you need is food and laughter? That is all? What about a house? What about health? What about a Jewish education? And then I considered the lesson in this waiter’s words. A complete stranger had brought me to a new understanding of what joy is and the place it can take in our lives. We are all so busy, with long to-do lists, work, social commitments, and responsibilities. Where is there room for joy? If we think of joy and laughter as sustenance, then its pursuit takes on new meaning. It lightens our spirits. How much time do we spend doing things that are fun with our families? Are we teaching our kids the value of being “b’simcha” being in joy? My son came home saying that he learned in school that when we smile it actually makes us feel better inside; it makes us happier. Lately we are making a point of smiling at each other at home. Just because. 

It Takes a Village by Behzad Dayanim

There is no concise manual for how to be a good parent. No matter how many hours of pregnancy classes or how many books one reads in preparation for this amazing adventure rife with challenge and revelation, from the first day a child enters the world, s/he changes it. No matter what we think we can expect, rarely a day goes by that doesn’t bring a surprise of one form or another. And parenting doesn’t end once our children graduate from infancy, or childhood, or adolescence. Just as we think we might be mastering a particular stage of our child’s development, a new stage emerges, often with new expectations, and no two children experience these stages the same way. So where does Parenting Through a Jewish Lens fit into the picture?

I wasn’t quite sure what to expect when I began preparing for our first session this year. Having served in a number of educational capacities and worked with diverse populations, I anticipated that this would still be something new and I was certainly correct in that assumption. The past four sessions with my cohort from Kadimah-Toras Moshe in Brighton have been extraordinary. I do not presume to evaluate my impact as the facilitator but rather to reflect on the overall contributions from everyone in attendance. As a modern orthodox community with a diverse population, our cadre is comprised of a range of current and future parents, some with young children, some with teens, some anticipating becoming the parents they hope to be. Each member of our group adds color and depth to our conversations, often promoting deeper understanding and sparking new questions.

I anticipated that this type of learning environment would be different. I did not fully understand to what extent I would be benefitting from the process of learning with such a dynamic group of individuals. Rarely is one presented with the opportunity to truly learn among peers and to wrestle with and sometimes be inspired by the amazing resources that the Torah and our heritage provide. One of the most rewarding aspects of this “chavruta” (learning group) has been the aggregate wisdom shared and the sense of strengthened community resulting from our collective and collaborative learning. We may not become perfect parents as a result of participating in this program but I certainly expect we will become better able to face the exciting challenges and opportunities that parenthood presents. It could be a song, a prayer, an inspiring passage, or any of the many wonderful conversations and stories that we share that reminds us that we are not alone in our efforts.

PTJL is no panacea for the parenting challenges we all face. It is a wonderful outlet to learn and share, laugh and cry as we work together to help foster the next generation. It reminds us of how influential each person can be and how important our roles as parents and as children can be as we strive to be meaningful contributors to the world around us.

Shabbat: A Turning Toward Each Other

What am I grateful for? This question has come up at many of the community Shabbat celebrations I have attended. Sometimes the question comes in the form of a request to name a highlight of the week, to which most people answer, “I am most grateful to be here, with all of you!” And I am sure it is true. Shabbat can feel like a relief, and it feels nice to share that sense of relief with others who value this time enough to have attended such a gathering. Each of us is there, trying, in our own capacity, to press the stop button, to add some sense of humanity, of belonging, and perhaps a little bit of the sacred to our lives, and it feels good.

And yet, I have also felt this expression of gratitude for being together to be low hanging fruit, grabbed out of convenience in the moment the question is asked; if the highlights we shared with people who don't know us were more personal, this might actually make us feel more unique and isolated, just when we were trying to feel connected.

I never suspected, though, that taking the ritual of talking about highlights of the week into the home setting would change this dynamic so profoundly. It helped that in our Parenting Through a Jewish Lens class it was suggested that we might want to use the Blessing of the Children as an opportunity to recognize our kids for one of their personal triumphs that week, and then for parents to turn to each other and share an appreciation of each other. Hearing a reflection of what stood out for others about our behavior set a tone for subsequent conversation that helped bring the sacred sweetness of Shabbat into our relating with one another. It helped us to see the best in each other and focus on the personal strengths we bring to the things we do. Highlights were no longer about good things that just happened to us, but more about actions we had taken that had a positive impact on ourselves and those around us.

May these rituals and conversations continue to help us grow, reflect, and take positive actions that strengthen our relationships within and beyond our families. Thank you Parenting Through a Jewish Lens.

Talk About Jewish Lens

Since my son was very young, and we were very new parents, we have always had a nightly routine. It has changed somewhat throughout my son’s 2+ years, but always includes a bath, one (or many) books, and some iteration of “cuddle time.” In our family, bedtime is one ritual that is sacred in our lives, when sitting at the kitchen table for meals or snacking on healthy food simply falls through the cracks of our working-parent existence. However, since beginning our Parenting through a Jewish Lens class in October, bedtime has changed.

One of the most important pieces of advice I have gotten as a new parent is that just when you despair that your child will never sleep through the night, will never stop pooping in the tub, or will always throw tantrums when they can’t get what they want, things change. Sometimes these behaviors extinguish themselves, sometimes they demand special focused attention, sometimes they get worse, and sometimes they get better. But the one thing we can count on is that they will change.

Every Sunday morning, we get ourselves dressed and out of the house in order to meet with our knowledgeable teacher and other Jewish parents of young kids for PTJL. When we started this class five weeks ago, we didn’t know what it would be like, what we would learn, or how this learning would influence our development as a Jewish family, but we were open, and interested, and motivated, and we made sure to show up.

During the first class, we talked about morning and evening rituals, and ways that Jewish tradition helps us to ease these very present transitions in the day. One way we talked about is by saying the Shema at bedtime. This is our tradition’s way of easing the transition from wakefulness to sleep, by affirming our belief that we will be protected during the night. When we left this first class, we thought that by saying the Shema at night, it would be an easy way to bring Jewish tradition into our bedtime ritual. Five weeks strong, we are saying the shema every night. My two year old asks to say it when he is ready to “snuggle,” and covers his eyes . During this moment, everything else stops. My husband and I cuddle our son together as we say this prayer. 

At our fifth class, many parents voiced frustration about time spent in houses of prayer: How can we model Jewish engagement for our young children when we spend the time there chasing them around or keeping them from disturbing others? The other night, during bedtime, my son answered this question for me. After the Shema and before going into the crib, my son and I snuggle while he initiates conversations about his day, such as “Talk about the library,” or “Talk about pre-school.” From there I muster up everything I can about what happened that day, and try to engage him in conversation about it, although he usually just wants me to talk. The other night I was shocked when he said, “Talk about Jewish Lens.”

The funny part is that while we learn during PTJL, he goes to babysitting. He is not there to engage in a discussion of Jewish values. WE are. Yet somehow he knows that this matters. Even our very young children know, can understand and internalize our values. So when our son says Shema at night, even though he doesn’t understand what the words mean, he knows it matters. And when we go to services on Saturday mornings, we may not spend a moment praying, but he knows this matters. And when we snuggle together at night, talking about his day, he knows that our time together with him is what matters. Our children are not the only ones learning, growing and changing. We are too.

Pizza: It's What's For (Shabbat) Dinner!

During this crazy time of the year as we’re caught up with Chanukah and Thanksgiving, it’s easy to forget that we actually get to celebrate a holiday every week: Shabbat! I love that our tradition gives us this weekly opportunity to press the pause button on our hectic lives and encourages us to spend time with our families. For those of us with young children, though, this can seem more daunting than enjoyable. In my work with families, I try to help them see that there are so many things they are already doing from day to day that are Jewish.

One of these family rituals is Shabbat dinner. There is overwhelming evidence showing the benefits of eating together as a family, from better long-term academic performance to improved health for all involved, and most importantly the relationship building that happens when we eat with the people we love, spend time together and talk about what’s really important to us.

            I know that at the end of a busy work week, putting together a nice dinner for your family can seem especially challenging. Many of us have in our minds that Shabbat Dinner = Roast Chicken. Now, don’t get me wrong, I love a leisurely chicken dinner, but with 2 working parents, a 1 year old and 3 year old, we don’t always have the time and energy for that. More often than not these days, Friday night dinner at our house is homemade pizza. It’s a great way to use up the leftovers in your fridge, and even if you live with picky eaters, if it’s on a pizza, it seems to be more palatable. Some tips on getting this meal on the table:

• If I make pasta with tomato sauce earlier in the week, I reserve about half a cup for the pizza.
• Keep some frozen pizza dough in the fridge, it’s just as easy to double or triple the recipe.
• Trader Joe’s has some GREAT prepared pizza dough, whole wheat, spinach, etc.
• Involve our kids in preparing dinner, they can help roll out the dough, place the topping on the pizza, sprinkle the cheese, etc.
• Whatever leftover veggies you have in your fridge will work great, throw some cheese on top and bake away, don’t over think it!
• Serve with a simple salad, if you have a salad spinner this is another great way to involve young kids in helping to prepare dinner.

Once you sit down to dinner with your family, make a point to mark this meal as something different, something sacred. By saying the Shabbat blessings over the candles, bread and wine, we have the chance to show that Shabbat is different from the rest of the week, and that the time we have to spend together over the next day is special. I love the tradition of incorporating a blessing over our children into our Shabbat dinner ritual. It doesn’t need to be formal, just a moment to reinforce how much we love them and how important family is.

           

Sometimes Friday night just won’t work for your family, and that’s OK! Find another time during the week to be together, there’s nothing special about dinner, breakfast works too, or a Saturday lunch. Just making the point to be together is what truly matters.

           

Here are some of my favorite resources for making Shabbat dinner a little easier for all of us:

The Family Dinner Project- Great information on why it’s so important to eat together. Helpful hints on conversation starters and easy recipes as well.

100 Days of Real Food- Suggestions for meal planning with HEALTHY food. Terrific recipes.

French Food Rules- A fabulous jumping off point for thinking about what’s important when it comes to eating in your family

Real Simple Magazine- A great all around recipe resource, especially this easy to follow month of meals

Sarah Ruderman Wilensky is an experienced Jewish educator and founder of JewFood. She specializes in teaching about Jewish identity, holidays and culture through food, and has worked with every age group, from toddlers and preschoolers to elementary-school students, teens, adults and families. Sarah is a Jewish Educator at the Jewish Community Centers of Greater Boston and runs the families with young children program at Congregation Beth El of the Sudbury River Valley. She lives in Newton with her husband, two young children and cat, Brisket.

Parenting Through a Jewish Lens Opened Our Eyes to New Ways of Thinking

Life changes when your first child is born.  All of a sudden you are whisked into a world where focus and priorities are forever altered and everything you do is accompanied by the thought “what is best for my child?” During the first year, there is so much to learn and do that new parents are often overwhelmed with the small things and little questions.  This was especially true for my wife and me as we moved to the Boston area from Montreal only a couple weeks before my first son was born. When that initial parenting stage passed, our lives didn’t become any calmer, rather new activities took over and questions now arise that are often much more complex.

                My wife and I were raised in Conservative Jewish households. While my wife felt comfortable with this branch of Judaism, I never quite did. When life settled down after moving and having a baby, we both wanted to find our way back to some sort of Jewish community and were open to exploring wherever we might fit in.   We joined a Reform synagogue, largely because we liked their kids programs.   Now I felt comfortable, but my wife didn’t.   As our son grew older and began attending the temple’s religious school and our daughter was at their nursery school, the question of how to include our faith and beliefs in our children’s lives became one that was harder to answer. This was especially true being in a community without our family and familiar surroundings to fall back on.  

When we heard that Parenting Through a Jewish Lens (then called Ikkarim) was being offered at our temple during the time my son was in religious school, and with babysitting available for my younger daughter, it was really a no brainer to sign up.   Not only could we tell our son that he wasn’t the only one who had to go to Hebrew school on the weekend, but we felt a need to dig deeper into the role Judaism played in our everyday lives.

                Our class was amazing!   While we read interesting texts, it was the discussions that came out of them that really broadened our horizons and helped both to reinforce ideals we already had and to open our eyes to new ways of thinking.   The people in our group were an eclectic bunch and to our surprise, the majority of couples weren’t made up of two Jewish partners yet wanted to raise their kids Jewish.  Navigating being a Jewish parent from a Catholic, Presbyterian or even Baha’i background is a big challenge and offered an entirely new perspective on our Conservative versus Reform debate.  

The wonderful thing was that the class did not push anyone into a particular path, but instead opened up our minds to how incredibly flexible Judaism can be and demonstrated that throughout history even the greatest scholars and prophets have not always agreed on their interpretations of the Torah. And, even after all the stimulating educational sessions and invigorating discussions, we were left with something that to us was far more valuable: many new friends within a community that we were still getting to know.  Several years later we remain close with a number of families from our PTJL class.

                I recently joined the Parenting Through a Jewish Lens Alumni Advisory Group.   While there are many great opportunities through Hebrew College, synagogues, and other organizations for continued Jewish learning, we still have a bond to PTJL and its concept of learning through the angle of parenting; and we have an even bigger bond to the families we met.   The experience of PTJL does not have to end when the class is over.  While the PTJL Alumni Advisory Group is a relatively new endeavor, there were two great inaugural events last year that we are building on by offering further opportunities to learn, grow and have fun together as parents and families.   I am already looking forward to the Latkes and Light event on December 4^th (5-7pm at Hebrew College in Newton), a family Chanukah program for alumni, current families and friends. I hope you’ll join us.  

Parenting Through a Jewish Lens Gave Me a Sense of Community

            The summer of 2009 was a time of big changes for our family.  My husband and I had made the decision to move our children – then ages 8, 6, and 2 – from Pittsburgh to the Boston area.  We were happy to be moving to a place where we had family just a short drive away, but we were torn about leaving the unique and close-knit Jewish community we had come to love in Pittsburgh.  After unpacking our boxes and reprogramming the “home” button on our GPS, one of our first goals was to look for a Jewish community where we could begin to connect with other families like us.

            The task proved to be more difficult than we had expected.  In Pittsburgh our older kids had gone to a day school with 20-30 kids per grade and in which all the families knew each other; now there were nearly 60 kids in each of their grades, so it was easy to fly under the radar as a new family.  Moreover, since neither child was entering the school as a kindergartner, we missed out on the “getting acquainted” activities tailored for new families.  Our two-year-old wouldn’t be old enough for Jewish preschool for another year, so we couldn’t connect through that venue either.

            We next looked to find community in the synagogue setting.  We attended High Holiday services at Temple Aliyah and began going to Shabbat services there, too.  However, as any parent knows, most of our conversations after services were limited by our children’s needs – especially our two-year-old, who by the end of a Shabbat service and kiddush lunch was ready to nap (if we took him home) or decompensate (if we did not)!

            Some of the young families I’d begun talking to at Temple Aliyah invited me to join a Parenting Through aJewish Lens class that would begin there later that fall.  I decided to give it a try, admittedly more for the chance to get to know people than for the Jewish content.  It turned out that the Jewish content was what made it such a great way to get to know people.  As a newcomer, it can be difficult to move beyond “So what brought you to the Boston area?”  But as I sat in a classroom week after week, talking about Jewish texts and concepts and how they apply to our lives and those of our children, I got to know what really mattered to my classmates, who were gradually becoming my community. 

Because the class met at Temple Aliyah, I got to know not just my classmates and our PTJL educator, but also Temple Aliyah itself.  I saw congregants arrive for evening services and committee meetings; Rabbi Perkins was a guest speaker one evening; and before long I came to associate the place itself with a supportive community interested in Jewish learning and practice.

            What did I gain from my PTJL experience?  I gained a sense of community with a group of people who are parents like me, and I found a synagogue in which I have since celebrated my own adult bat mitzvah, and where I look forward to celebrating when my children become b’nai mitzvah in the years to come.

Heidi Schwartz lives in Needham with her husband and their three children. She took part in PTJL at Temple Aliyah in 2010.

 

 

With the Smell of Fresh Challah, Shabbat is Here

Each Friday morning, children and families arriving to school at the Bernice B. Godine JCC Early Learning Center are greeted with the smell of fresh challah and are invited to take a small taste of the warm bread.

My office sits next to the entrance to the preschool and I’ve come to anticipate both the glee that Friday morning challah brings, and the oft-repeated conversations of parents and caregivers Mondays through Thursdays, patiently explaining to eager toddlers and preschoolers: there’s no challah today, sweetie, it’s Tuesday.

These repeated exchanges illustrate for me at least a few important points about toddler development:

                                                               

Toddlers learn through the five senses: seeing, hearing, smelling, touching, and tasting. Spiritual practices that engage the senses have the greatest impact. Toddlers who cannot yet articulate the word “challah” recognize it by sight, taste, and smell.  A simple song like Shabbat Shalom (Bin Bam) indicates that “Shabbat is Here!” (another musical hit with the toddler and preschool set). 

It doesn’t take much to make a big impact. But it does take repetition and routine.  I’ve seen many a toddler sing “happy birthday” to the Shabbat candles.  If Shabbat candles were as common as birthday candles, it will be the opposite. 

Young children have not yet developed a sense of time. “Yesterday,” “next week,” and “Friday” are not yet meaningful concepts. Harried parents already know this: think of the futility of telling your toddler you need to leave in five minutes, or ten. Toddlers live fully in the “now,” in the present (an enviable spiritual state, but frustrating when you are late for work!).  Ritual is one way that we help mark time for young children. Repetitive ritual creates consistency and feelings of safety and security.

What children (of all ages) want and need most of all is the whole-hearted attention of loving and caring parents and caregivers. The Sabbath gives us permission to set aside the to-do list and everyday stresses, to stop being productive. Whether you make challah from scratch using your great grandmother’s beloved recipe or can barely manage to defrost a mini bagel from the freezer, who you are, right now, is more than enough.   

My fifth point speaks not to what is developmentally-appropriate for toddlers, but rather, what is “developmentally-appropriate” for families with toddlers:

It’s natural that parents of young children feel that they have little time for themselves, or for their partners.

Taking time for yourself as an individual helps you to be the loving parent – loving person - you wish to be.  Everyone tells you to get more sleep and exercise. I want to encourage you to pay attention to your intellectual and spiritual needs. Make time to talk with peers and with your partner about what matters most, not just what’s most urgent.  These are the conversations that strengthen your family and feed your soul, and if you’re partnered, will remind you of why you fell in love in the first place. 

Each Fall I meet with parents of young children in the ten week course Parenting Through a Jewish Lens www.hebrewcollege.edu/parenting.It’s never simple for individuals or couples to carve out time to take the class – even with the free on-site babysitting – but once there, they find that the Jewish wisdom we explore can transform their personal and family journeys. 

Rabbi Julie Zupan serves as the Jewish Family Educator for the Early Learning Centers of the Jewish Community Centers of Greater Boston (http://bostonjcc.org/Home.aspx) and is on the staff of Reform Jewish Outreach Boston (http://www.reformjewishoutreachboston.org/). She is an instructor for Parenting Through a Jewish Lens, a ten week course offered by Hebrew College.  Rabbi Zupan can be reached at rabbizupan@hotmail.com.