by Susan Diamond
It used to be a question I asked myself often. Not anymore.
I spent many years thinking deeply, trying this and that, and praying for an answer to that one confounding question that worried me more than any other.
How can I teach my children about God?
I felt like a failure. I am a freakishly God-loving person. I think about God pretty much every hour of everyday. I talk to God like we’re buddies, I have this awesome respect for my Mentor and Provider. I am powerfully connected to the Lord.
But my kids…not so much.
My son in particular, is a skeptic. Well, actually he is more than simply skeptical about a Divine presence, he is not a believer. That’s the bad news.
The good news is that we’re Jewish, the “Chosen People”. According to our religion, if you’ve got a clean bloodline back to Abraham you don’t have to declare belief in God, you simply have to live in a Godly way, and you’ll be okay.
So, I lived with the fact that despite my honest efforts to teach my children to “love God with all your heart and all your might” [Deuteronomy 6:5] I did not exactly hit it out of the park on that one.
I suppose I could say I saw more success with “living in a Godly way”. My kids are all grown now and they are responsible adults, kind and good, with compassion to others, a strong work ethic and blessed with devotion to family and friends.
With that box checked off, I figured I had another chance to teach my grandchildren to love God. Their parents turned over their religious education to me. I tried a different tack this time. I didn’t force them to sit in a religious school classroom. Instead we took field trips to Jewish institutions, we had Jewish cultural experiences, and they came with me to worship at what I call the happy clappy musical service.
With their “Hebrew Homeschool” completed I conceded, no God lovers in this batch either.
Being a Jewish grandmother, (they call me Bubbe) I know the way to the heart is through the stomach.
Friday night Shabbat dinners have been a staple in our home for thirty years.
Last Friday night was no exception. The three grandkids came to celebrate Shabbat at the dinner table.
As usual, the meal started with soup. That week it was french onion. The kind with the gooey cheese that sticks to the crocks and is oh so delicious...read more
