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21 Iyar 5764 - May 12, 2004 | Mordecai Plaut, director Published Weekly
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The Lure of Nothing
by Bayla Gimmel

In past generations, the average, ordinary Jew was Torah observant. From time to time, one of the `ism's would come along -- be it Hellenism, socialism, Communism, Zionism or even feminism -- and attempt to lure away our young. Those targeted by the popular ideology of the times were often the best and the brightest.

Someone who lived here in Yerusholayim during the heady days of the founding of the State related that there were many religious families, including those who lived in such sheltered enclaves as Meah Shearim, who lost teenagers and young adults to kibbutzim, moshavim, Zionist movements (religious and secular) and various units of the Hagganah.

Now, in the beginning of the 21st century, some seven decades after the Chofetz Chaim told us that he could hear the footsteps of the approaching Moshiach, there is something new that is luring away our young. It isn't an `ism;' it isn't even an ideology. It is nothingness.

In the recent Israeli election, a significant number of Knesset seats were won by a party that espouses nothing except hatred for Torah and mitzvos. It is not `for' anything. It is just against Yiddishkeit. The name of this party, Shinui, means `change,' and indeed, it represents a change from the lures of the past. Trendy young Israelis whose lives revolve around their jobs, their cars, their high tech cellular phones and other gadgets, not to mention their leisure activities, flocked to support this party of nothing.

There was a popular story in the 19th century secular Yiddish literature about a likable shlemazel (ne'er-do-well) who left his wife and children to travel about and try to earn a living.

The book consists of a series of pairs of letters. In the first of each pair, the `hero' describes the town or city that he has just entered, the lifestyle of its financially successful residents, and the way in which they are earning their money. Then he says, "And me in the middle of it."

Of course, he is never successful. The second of each pair of letters goes on to tell how he tried to emulate the money- makers and the often hilarious description of how his efforts backfired.

The readers could sympathize with the protagonist of the story for several reasons, not the least of which is the very human tendency to try to be "in the middle" of whatever is happening around us.

Impressionable teenagers and young adults are the most vulnerable members of society. They follow trends, the media and peer pressure to a much greater extent than their elders. In the years after World War II, young people everywhere on the globe turned into American `wannabees.' They wore American jeans and T-shirts, ate American fast-food and listened to American music.

At first, it was relatively innocuous, and the parents looked aside, shrugged their shoulders and said, "This, too, will pass." But then America started exporting the darker side of its world: the drug culture, tattoos, body piercing and the like. And the youngsters of the world were still saying, "And me in the middle of it."

The nothingness of American culture, circa 2000, has invaded Israeli society. We see youngsters on our buses with outlandish hairdos, multiple earrings, nose rings and tiny gold studs filling holes in other parts of their exposed anatomies, vacant looks on their faces and attire that lacks any element of self respect. When they get off the bus, they don't say "Shalom" or "Lehitraot." Instead, it's "Bye!" with a quasi-American accent, that they sing out to their classmates.

This past Purim morning, I was hurrying to the local grocery to buy challos and a few goodies to fill some last minute baskets. Coming towads me were a bevvy of costumed children, delivering their families' mishloach manos. I was busy admiring the lovely little brides, the bearded Mordechais, the Dutch girls with their yellow braids and a clever walking hamantasch.

But then I stopped in my tracks. Coming down the street in my totally chareidi neighborhood was a young boy of about 10 or 11. He was wearing jeans and a T- shirt with sleeves rolled up to the shoulder and his spiked hair was sprayed green!

No, this wasn't a stranger on a bus, whom I could rationalize was someone who had not been privy to a Jewish education, hadn't been exposed to Yiddishkeit, or perhaps wasn't even Jewish. This was the child of one of my neighbors -- a cheder boy -- who had been exposed, however marginally, to the anti- culture of nothingness and had elected to be a `nothing' for Purim.

A few years before we left the States, circa 1990, we were invited to a bar mitzva seuda. As expected, the boy got up and thanked his Rebbe for helping him to learn the laining, his parents, grandparents, teachers etc. Then he told the assembled guests that he had prepared something special to share with us.

What followed was a `rap' song which he had composed to express his feelings on the occasion of reaching Jewish manhood. Everyone present squirmed a little as we all thought to ourselves, "What's wrong with this picture?"

It was that same feeling that I had on Purim morning as I surveyed the cheder `punk' boy strolling down my street.

Clearly, the lure of nothingness has invaded the most insulated bastions of chareidi life. We have to counter it in every way we can. We have to bombard our youngsters with love of Torah and Yiddishkeit, and with the many beautiful elements of our Torah based lives that give our sojourn in this world meaning.

We have to start off by creating warm loving homes for our families. We have to relate well to our neighbors so that we have a connection to their youngsters.

We have to fill our neighborhoods, our homes, our schools and our lives with the special simchas hachayim of Yiddishkeit.

There is something else that may be most important of all. We have to insure that every Jewish child can read Hebrew fluently, can be a constructive participant in class discussions, and can feel comfortable about him/herself, his identity and his schooling.

A child who sees himself as a `nothing' will gravitate to nothingness. This is another aspect of the `Shinui' of our times -- the appeal to the misfits of our society rather than to the best and the brightest.

If nothingness has crept in to fill even very tiny cracks in our world, we have to fight that nothingness with everything that is at our command. Be it love of learning, love of fellow Jew, enthusiasm for mitzvos. We have an entire arsenal.

Let us use it to create a world of meaning and satisfaction for the youngsters in our midst.

 

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