Water Your Jewish Garden

by Jill Maidhof

“What did you learn today that you didn’t already know?”

 This is the way I greet my grandson after a morning of religious school. He tells me he learned the 10 Commandments and when I ask, “which one?,” he  says “all of them.”

“That’s great!” I say, but what I’m thinking is “that’s great for now.” Spending 90 minutes on 10 commandments works out to 9 minutes apiece. (I’m guessing that less time was spent on commandment #7 you shall not commit adultery and more on #8 you shall not steal). This is great — for a nine-year-old. 

But what if he’s never challenged to take a deeper dive? Will he, like so many adults, believe that he’s fulfilled commandment #6 do not murder because he’s never put a gun to someone’s head? Will he keep in mind that #9 do not bear false witness applies as much to how he treats friends and colleagues as it does to what he testifies in a court of law? Will he even know that the Bible never uses the term “10 Commandments” at all, referring to them instead as aseret hadibrot, the 10 statements, and that he will find each to be far reaching and relevant to his own life?

I learned those things (and so much more) in a Chai Mitzvah Aseret HaDibrot discussion group. What my grandson was able to glimpse through pictures and instruction, I had the opportunity to analyze, appraise and apply to my own life. I added my interpretations to those of others and learned from stories of lived experiences.  What left him with a sense of knowing because he had learned, left me with a thirst for learning and the sense that “knowing” was not my goal.

A seed is planted when we’re young and if it’s nourished and enlightened it will flower.

Isn’t this the way that Jewish learning is meant to be pursued: A seed is planted when we’re young and if it’s nourished and enlightened it will flower? Yes, this will involve some pain: I’ll never forget a good friend begging our rabbi, “Don’t tell me that!!!” when he suggested that the miracle of the oil we celebrate during Chanukkah had more to do with politics than divine intervention (a story for another blog). She loved the child-like interpretation and hated to prune that branch. 

She’s not alone. Too many adults make one of two choices: they make decisions informed by the Jewish values of a preteen, or, rejecting what they consider to be a series of fairy tales, they leave the tradition altogether. 

There is, of course, a third option and if you’re reading this, you know of it: embrace the struggle! Water your Jewish garden with nourishing programs like Chai Mitzvah, let light shine on new interpretations, be willing to gently prune the branches that arrest your understanding and experience what it’s like to bring adult Jewish values to our complex world. May you flourish in 2024!