The exciting thing about being a Bubbie is that fun events
come to you without the responsibility that is attached to
them. So on Wednesday morning, a busful of first graders and
their mothers and a few grandmothers were on their way to the
Kosel to celebrate the fact that these young students had
mastered reading sufficiently well to be presented with their
own siddur. Everyone was remarking about the fact that
I had traveled from Netanya to be there for the occasion.
However, any distinction this gave me was lost as we went to
the hall where the momentous event was to be held. A series
of happy shrieks told the story of another grandma who had
traveled all the way from America and had swept in, having
kept it a surprise until that very moment!
Cakes-of-the-art were set out on one table and the
siddurim on another, each of the latter with a black
velvet cover marvelously decorated by the mothers.
The little girls in navy and white were becrowned by their
teacher, who also tied crepe paper streamers on their wrists.
Then the ceremony began with three chords on the organ. Songs
and streamers filled the air, culminated by every girl going
up to her mother and singing a very meaningful song in
unison, dedicated especially to her. There were few, if any,
dry eyes at this point.
The girls received their siddur, refreshments were
served, and a bus took us all to the Kosel. Hearts swelled
again with emotion as each girl went up to the Kosel,
siddur in hand, ready to pray from her own prayerbook
for the first time.
I was soon back on the bus headed to Netanya, with the radio
blaring away. My attention was caught by a news item
reporting a request from the police to principals of schools
to notify them of all incidents of violence and extortion
taking place in the classrooms and the playgrounds. No good,
they said, would come of trying to hush up such incidents
since many times, by the time they were reported, children
were already in the hospital.
I wondered if the children at those schools had any
celebrations that compared to the wonderful experience that
my granddaughter had had that morning. The students had been
the center of attention. They had felt a love for Jerusalem
and for Torah and tefilla from the songs they had
sung, and had been impressed by the momentousness of the
occasion through the fact that their mothers had laid aside
their normal routine to join them in their celebration and
accompany them to the Kosel for the first time with their
siddur. This was also reflected in the effort made to
produce magnificently decorated cakes highlighting this
special event, and the work invested in creating decorative
protective coverings for their precious siddurim.
The girls internalized the respect mothers showed towards the
teachers, towards the occasion, towards the siddur.
Where in secular schools do children see any form of respect?
Is this the reason for the rising violence and alienation in
those schools?
How do WE relate to this? Do we ignore it because, boruch
Hashem, it does not affect our children? Do we ignore the
fact that all Jewish children and how they behave are linked
to our Holy Land? What possible role could we play in this
extended society?
I am a private person. I don't work, except at home, writing
articles, and have little contact with the secular world in
Israel. The feeling that there is nothing I can do overwhelms
me. Still, there is one prayer I didn't think of at the Kosel
that morning.
It is a wish that all Jewish children in this land have the
pleasure and the pride in their precious Jewishness that our
own children experienced earlier that day, davenning
at the Kosel with their new siddur clasped tightly,
lovingly, in their hands.
I guess it's not too late to pray for them, even though,
unless Moshiach comes today or tomorrow, I don't expect to be
going to the Kosel again in the very near future...
