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This past winter, my wife and I decided that it was finally time to make a concerted effort to
teach our children to skate. Up here in the Great White North, it's a great way to pass the long,
cold winters. Unfortunately, I never really learned to skate myself, for reasons which I'll
explain.
Most Jewish parents approach most hobbies and interests with the long-term objective
clearly in mind --- that is, becoming a well-paid professional. In terms of skating, that usually
leads to hockey. Problem is, hockey is not really a good profession for a nice Jewish boy.
Perhaps as an sports agent, maybe an owner, but never, never as a player. As my mother told me,
"you think after having paid thousands of dollars for those braces, I'm going to let your teeth get
knocked out?"
So there we were, me the novice, my wife the pro, trying to teach our children to skate. In my
situation, it's hard to tell the teacher and student apart. As a result, I was pretty much stuck in the
"kiddie zone" of the rink whenever we went skating, while the others were speed skating .
During those many afternoons and evenings, I couldn't help seeing an analogy to our other roles
as Jewish parents and teachers. We have done much of our serious Judaic learning as adults,
even before we became parents, but there's nothing like the prospect of children in a parochial
school, who are fast coming up on your own knowledge level, for extra motivation. Remember,
when your children in a Jewish Day School are learning Mishna in grade 3, they're already half
way to Law School. In the words of the Shema, we find the verse "And you shall teach (Torah)
to your children", not the other way around.
Believe me, getting up at 5:30 is the easy part, although it has necessitated some evening
schedule changes. Like no more late night television. And just like my sons, I leave my clothes
out the night before. One minhag (custom) I have instituted, though, is to not choose socks at night. I like
a little mystery in my life, so in the pitch black darkness of the night, when I reach into the
drawer, I never know what color I've selected until I get to synagogue. (I'm colourblind anyways and
happy if they at least match each other). On the positive side, there is no traffic at 6:00 in the
morning, other than the early morning joggers.
You're probably expecting me to say how the learning is fantastic, (which it is) and that I've
found I have a natural talent for it (definitely not). There's no turning back for me, I can't get a
refund on the book. Despite Rabbi Breitowitz's dynamic teaching style and breadth of
knowledge, Talmud is hard, head-breaking work for me, especially first thing in the morning. I
can best describe it as trying to get your brain going from zero to 60 in two seconds flat. I could
probably use a block heater. In fact, I'm merely treading water in the Sea of Talmud. Right now,
we are learning Tractate Rosh Hashana. Did you know there are actually four New Years in the
Jewish calendar? On the positive side, by the
time I get to work, my brain (now fully awake) is in high gear, fueled by pure logic (and very
strong coffee). And it definitely does help my analytical skills. Kind of like Law School without
the egos and exams.
As a side effect, I think I've stumbled onto something else.
In our generation, we have a
paradox. On the one hand, the level of secular education attained continues to climb, so there's
no doubt about our intelligence or learning capacity. Yet, at the same time, Jewish literacy is
plummeting.
There's a whole Sea of Talmud out there. Don't keep yourself in the wading pool on the beach.
Just put on a bathing suit, your water wings if you need them, and jump right in. The water's
fine.
And, unlike hockey, you get to keep your teeth.
Jewish World Review May 27, 1999 / 12 Sivan, 5759
A lesson in
Talmudic hockey
By Jordan Max
So, not having any professional future in it, my parents never really pursued the
skating thing. Hence, my ability to skate is limited: I can go forward, even do a cross-over turn,
I just can't stop or go backwards. My wife, on the other hand, excelled in skating, and even
managed to do some fancy figure skating - at least that has some professional future. Think about
it, you don't see a lot of professional figure skaters with missing teeth on television.
So, after Passover, I finally decided to join a new Gemara (Talmud) class offered at our synagogue. The
trouble was, this class was to start daily at 6:00 am, before the morning prayers. After I came up with every
conceivable excuse not to join, I finally took a lesson from my children, who said "Aw, just do
it".
Jewish Adult Education is usually marketed as something for everyone --- with
limited success. However, we live in a society which is extremely competitive, individualistic
and materialistic. So maybe what we have to do is try marketing Torah as an exclusive, elite
activity which all status-seeking Jews will want to attain, the intellectual equivalent of the
Marines. We should raise, not lower our expectations. I imagine a marketing campaign that
would go something like "So you've got your MBA, your Law degree, your Phd. But can you
handle Talmud?". Who wouldn't jump at that challenge? Throw in a Gala dinner and they'd be
filling the synagogue study halls in no time flat.
JWR contributor Jordan Max is a Toronto-based humorist and columnist for
The Candian Jewish News. Send your comments to him by clicking here.
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