Bridging the generational gap and teaching the wisdom of the past through faith.

This year, I turned 40. My son turned two. My dad turned 83 and my mom turned 75.  I think the most important age in that list is really my son’s. His turning two was marked with a greater understanding of his surroundings, his friends, family and the customs and traditions that will, hopefully, become a part of his life.

As a single man with no kids I didn’t think too much about what my priorities were in terms of faith, religion and customs. I kept many of them; a kosher kitchen, no un-kosher meat and no bread on Passover. I observed the high holidays and fasted on Yom Kippur but quite frankly did little else, as there was no one really watching me. Truth be told, I still struggle with my beliefs, as I’m sure many people do, and wonder what the right path is for my family and me.

But something has come over me and I have really felt it more and more after my son’s second birthday. It is the overwhelming feeling that everything my parents tried to instill in me (when it comes to faith and religion) is correct. Cliché after cliché becomes ever more tangible as the “You’ll see when you have kids” and “Wait until you are a father” scenarios keep playing in my head and are proven to be true.  The clichés are forming direct links from my elderly parents to my son whether he realizes it or not.

I suppose the most glaring example of this was my lack of desire to attend synagogue as a boy, a young man and even today. I was never one to pray and could never get behind a custom/ritual that seemed strange with little payoff. Fast forward to now, and my desire to take my son to synagogue has grown exponentially. I want to instill in him a sense of community and the notion that he is, indeed, a Jew.

I don’t always know what causes this or why. It has less to do with the belief in a higher power that is interested in such rituals and more to do with ensuring the traditions, customs and struggles are passed down with no missing links in the chain. In a lot of cases the passing down of rituals, in and of itself, defines Judaism. But for me there is the added element of the link that occurs between a boy and his grandparents. After they pass on someday, the opportunity for knowledge, traditions and closeness to a different past will be lost.

Tradition and even faith and religion can have an important meaning. There is a reason for it and it connects us to our history, our ancestors and gives meaning into how we have evolved, whatever one’s faith of beliefs. That is not to say I have become a devoutly religious person who preaches to anyone that will listen and attempts to convert the unconverted – not at all.

It’s not as if I have no doubts or concerns. When I was a boy, I went to private school and was often forced to do things I didn’t want to do. Of course, the more I was forced the more I would resist. I can only wonder sometimes if I am destined to repeat that problem with my son.

Eventually we let our kids go and they decide for themselves. But while they are with you, you think you can program them. You cannot. My parents tried that with me on occasion and I fear I have the same tendencies to want to force a certain kind of behaviour. Stack on top of that the hypocrisy of practicing religion when sometimes it is more convenient than other times.

My parents escaped occupied Poland during WWII and lived most of the war in Russia. Hardships, poverty and hunger were never too far behind them and yet they are some of the lucky ones who made it out alive and were not caught by the Nazis.

It is those stories that I consider part of the faith, of my personal meaning of the word at least, that can also connect my son to his grandparents and allow him to understand where he comes from in a way I could never impart to him on my own. Just the fact that my parents speak to him in Yiddish and he repeats it back to them makes me feel like something is being accomplished.

My mother has a saying which people kind of laugh off when they hear it and more and more I find myself thinking about it. “Teach your kids Torah,” she says, “and buy land.” In other words provide as much wisdom and knowledge as you can to the next generation, and provide for them.

All of this comes to me at middle age. I never really thought of it before and now that I do, it only gets heightened with time. The meaning, the need to bridge some generational gap and the notion that wisdom can and should be passed down are all at the forefront of my mind. I know my son definitely doesn’t think about such things yet but I wonder if he will some day. If I do my job right, maybe he will realize sooner than I did what can be gained by connecting with an older generation. That is my hope for him.