Some while back, I wrote a comparison about two adjacent
poverty-stricken neighborhoods divided by a road: Meah
Shearim and Musrara. A study carried out in the sixties
showed that of the 2-16 age group in Musrara, there was a
ninety percent juvenile delinquency crime rate! One of the
reasons for this sad statistic, I maintained, was the sense
of deprivation felt by Musrara children, as opposed to Meah
Shearim, which was considered more poverty-stricken, but had
no crime rate whatsoever!
One of the conclusions arrived at as a result of the study
was that in Meah Shearim, parents invested a very high degree
of emotional input. But there was another tremendously
significant factor involved that differentiated the two
adjacent neighborhoods. Meah Shearim was completely isolated
and insulated from the outer world so that even the fact of
poverty itself was not recognized by the children. In
Musrara, however, the children were exposed, if not
bombarded, through the media, by all the things that children
in the outer world enjoyed -- and of which they were
deprived. This created a sense of frustration, and the more a
person feels frustrated, the more his conscience and sense of
right-and-wrong, of justice, is undermined. The children of
Meah Shearim, on the other hand, were satisfied with their
lot and did not feel either deprived or frustrated.
Criminologist have an interesting yardstick to create an
imaginary line that connects poverty to crime. It is composed
of two parameters, the one being "The things I want" and the
other, "The things that I cannot possibly ever hope to
attain."
The second category is vast, almost impossible to enumerate,
from a private executive plane to a yacht and everything in
between. But since very few people even dream about owning
such things, they are not frustrated by the lack of them,
while wealthy people can, certainly, feel frustration at not
owning what their colleagues have and they lack. They may
even feel more deprived than a poor man who owns a one-room
apartment but has successfully expanded it to an additional
two bedrooms. Indeed, of this was it said: Who is wealthy?
One who is happy with his lot.
Back to our parameter. We can draw a rule that the more a
person wants things that are beyond his reach, the greater is
his frustration. A constant sense of deprivation is erosive;
it undermines a person's will to live and causes him to
despair from the codes and laws that govern him, and to
develop a sense of bitterness, a disillusionment with
society. He feels that, "If no one is concerned about me, I
have to look out for Number One. Never mind how I go about
attaining what I lack." And the direct implication of such an
attitude towards life and society is inevitably -- crime and
lack of a moral code.
On the other hand, when a person has limited desires,
selected sights and materialistic goals, and there is a
healthy, normal balance or parity between what he wants and
what he is getting, he is not frustrated and nothing will
stand in the way of his developing a strong sense of ethics
and respect for the social code. One thing should certainly
be clear: one cannot satisfy the above frustration through
supplying those things that one craves and by giving in to
the yearning but only by curbing one's appetite and setting
limitations.
Back to square one: the children of Musrara were exposed to
the culture of affluence, consumerism and of gratification of
simulated and stimulated needs and desires. But they could
only see what they were missing through the media, while
these things remained hopelessly beyond their reach. They saw
wealth, affluence, a luxury standard of living, fashion,
trademarks, toys, food without limit -- all of which aroused
a corresponding desire for them, and an immediate one, at
that. And the burning desire for instant gratification
created a parallel rise in the crime rate.
The children of Musrara also lacked a Torah education that
establishes personal boundaries, that creates a healthy
perspective of what a person actually needs in this world in
order to accomplish his purpose in life; what is of primary
importance and what is secondary.
The children of Meah Shearim received a Torah upbringing
which transmitted to them a sense of purpose in life, a
feeling of satisfaction and accomplishment for living up to
their goals. They had a clear direction of where they were
heading, on the one hand, while not being exposed to changing
fashions, expensive tastes, state-of-the-art toys and
electronic gadgets, a sports and leisure culture. They
studied until six thirty, kicked around a semideflated ball,
played leapfrog and tag and were thrilled to the skies.
The things that fell into the `unattainable' category
remained constantly low, comparable to the low level of `I
want.' And the narrow gap in between was very adequately
filled by their chinuch, by the emotional input of
their parents, which was strong.
*
Many years have passed since then and the culture of
affluence has penetrated everywhere. People have different,
upgraded standards. They buy more and more products and are
amazed that the more they get, the more they seem to still
want. They are no happier having acquired what they wanted
than they were before, only more frustrated by what still
lies beyond.
Crime is on an upsurge, and not only in Musrara, which only
goes to prove that no matter how much people will have, they
will always desire more and be less satisfied and
increasingly frustrated by the realization of all the things
that will forever be beyond their reach.
Where do we stand in this tableau? Deeply concerned, for we
know without doubt that the consumer syndrome is bombarding
us, a-knocking through the door, tapping at our window and
even seeping in through the keyhole. Our only saving grace is
our chinuch, our acknowledgement of the deeply
ingrained realization of what is good, valid, revered,
established for all time -- Bnei Torah. This somehow
calibrates the scale, readjusts it to its proper balance and
enables the others to at least be ashamed of their
acquisitiveness, to regard it as a weakness and not an
advantage. But the danger is still prevalent.
But there is still hope for us, as shown by the following
sign of encouragement. A certain advertising company was
selling a product they wished to promote among the young
chareidi public and devised a campaign, "Dream Come
True," in which children were asked to send in their dream-
requests, their dream-wishes. A raffle would be drawn from
all the participants and their dreams would be chosen to be
fulfilled.
The campaign was unmistakenly designed to promote the
product. But the people behind it never dreamed what unusual
dreams the juvenile participants would come up with. First of
all, the response was overwhelming; hundreds of letters
poured in within the first week.
The content of those wishes was even more surprising. They
expected dozens of wishes for bicycles, computers, various
games, compact disks, cameras etc. But the actual requests
were indicative of something very deep and precious,
reflecting what went on in the minds of chareidi
children.
About half of the letters expressed requests that were
spiritual rather than materialistic. And even a great number
of those children who asked for concrete things, also
expressed some spiritual wish, which again reflected the
ingrained chinuch that taught children what is
acceptable to ask and what is desired -- on an overall basis.
I have these letters and postcards on file. The public is
welcome to read them and be moved to tears, as I was...
*
A sampling:
Tova from Bnei Brak asked "that there be no more bombings and
that I succeed in all of my tests."
Nochum, a sixth grader from Yerusholayim asked: "1) To become
a paramedic [Hatzola volunteer] so that I can help many
people. 2) That I grow a distinguished looking beard like my
great-grandfather's."
Danny from Netanya asked for a set of seforim. Eliyohu
from Kiryat Sefer expressed a wish to "Be like Harav Shach."
Meir, also from Kiryat Sefer, wished "to become a
dayan." Rivky from Beit Shemesh wished for "children
who are tzaddikim, yirei Shomayim and who study Torah
all day." Ariel, a first grader, asked that "All my prayers
be fulfilled."
Meir, a sixth grader from Bnei Brak, dreams of "1) Writing a
Sefer Torah. 2) Learning how to play a harp, just like Dovid
Hamelech." Akiva wanted a set of vowelized Mishnayos
while Batsheva asked to succeed in all of her exams and to
keep all of the mitzvos perfectly.
Chaya from Ashdod first asked that Moshiach come, then wished
to change the old furniture in their living room. Practical
Racheli from Bnei Brak also wished for Moshiach, and if that
were not possible at the moment, at least to receive some
book or game. Goldy asked for yiras Shomayim for her
brother! and that "we all live in peace and quiet without any
terrorist bombings." Another child asked for an audience by a
godol hador, whom he mentioned by name, in order to
receive a blessing. Naomi wanted one of her poems to be
printed in YATED NE'EMAN. Nissim wanted to be enrolled in a
good cheder; no more, no less. Naava in third grade
wanted a husband who is a tzaddik. And so on...
If these are the requests and wishes and dreams of children
who could have asked for material things, it goes to show
that the situation is not lost. We still can be proud of our
children who are the products of our chinuch. This
does not mean that we can rest on our laurels, but we should
be allowed a pat on the shoulder once in a while.
Ashreinu. How fortunate are we, how goodly our lot,
how pleasant our goal, how beautiful our heritage.
