Every Rosh Chodesh, Morah Rochel, a seventh grade teacher in
a Jerusalem Bais Yaakov school, holds a party for her
students. For many years, each student would bring something
for the party, which was collected by the class coordinator
and laid out for the party.
One year, Chavi's downcast look caused her teacher to change
this routine procedure.
Chavi was a new student who had come from the U.S. where her
father had been a rov and rosh yeshiva. She was eager to be
accepted by her classmates but had to overcome many hurdles,
such as acquiring fluency in Hebrew and adjusting to Israeli
lifestyle.
The first time Chavi participated in the party, her mother
provided her with a large shopping bag heaped with goodies
the family had brought along from the States. Strictly
kosher, of course!
However, when Malki, the coordinator that month, reached
Chavi's desk, she loudly asked, "What hechsher do your
cookies have?"
Chavi turned red as a beet and began to stammer, "My father
says this is a very good hechsher. He was a rov in
Brooklyn before we came here and is very familiar with the
hechsherim in America."
"Well, I never heard of that one," Malki said with a chuckle.
"How do you pronounce it, anyway? Beis Din of the
Skiwotodendoten Kehilla?"
The teacher witnessed the scene. Realizing that it would be
counterproductive to scold Malki at that time, she wondered
how to handle the situation. She didn't feel that Malki was
to blame for her behavior, since a child echoes what she has
heard at home, and in the class, they did try to maintain a
high level of kashrus for all to be able to partake of this
mesiba.
Suddenly, she had a brainstorm. Walking over to Chavi's desk,
she picked up the bag of goodies. No, she didn't want to
examine the hechsher. She knew Chavi's parents and
trusted them.
But to the suprise of her students, she said, "Girls, I can
base an entire lesson on Chavi's treats. There are two kinds
of cookies here -- chocolate chip and snow cookies. What
brocha do we say over the snow cookies?"
Since the girls were not sure what ingredients these American
snow cookies contained, no one answered.
"Well, I'll tell you. Or rather, I'll demonstrate, so that
you can answer Omen to my brocha," she declared
with a wink.
Taking out a snow cooky, she recited a Shehakol and
bit in. After that, she spent fifteen minutes discussing the
blessings over various food items, including the Crembo, an
Israeli cream concoction on a thin biscuit base.
Why was Morah Rochel hesitant about scolding Malki? She
feared that if scolded, Malki might rebel. As a very
experienced teacher, she knew that reprimanding demands much
forethought and should never be off the cuff.
What scenes might Malki have witnessed which had caused her
to be a bit insensitive to her friend's feelings?
Let's examine some scenarios which might very well take place
in our own homes.
SCENE ONE
It is Purim. A costumed child appears at Mrs. Shain's door
with a plate of shalach monos. Mrs. Shain takes it
and, placing it on the table, says, "Kinderlach, you
can eat this. It's from Rav Kohn's house."
Ten minutes later, another delivery arrives, a huge basket
filled with a variety of chocolates, cookies, candies and
canned fruits, sent by Mrs. Sender.
Whisking it away, Mrs. Shain warns her children, "Don't eat
that stuff. I'm not sure about the hechsheirim that
family uses. Don't open it, either. I'll give it to Renana
when she comes to clean in the morning."
"But Renana's Jewish, too," little Moishe pipes up.
The poor personal example Mrs. Shain set is obvious. Even
Moishe sensed it.
Practically speaking, before humiliating the Senders, Mrs.
Shain should have examined the contents of the package
herself. Many companies whose products were once out of
bounds for chareidi Jews currently have the finest
supervision, because their owners are aware of the vast
marketing potential of this sector. Had Mrs. Shain done so,
she might have discovered that there were no kashrus problems
at all, and no reason to denigrate the Senders.
SCENE TWO
Mrs. David's niece has recently gotten engaged.
"Where are you making the wedding?" she asks her sister- in-
law.
"At Ginat Habustan."
"Oh, really? Then we can't eat there."
"But it has Rav Kraus' supervision. My son's rosh yeshiva
eats at weddings there."
"I know, but we don't eat their meat. Is it too late
to change your plans?"
"Yes. There are no other halls available."
"Well, then, you won't be insulted if we don't eat the meat
at your wedding."
Mrs. David's strict adherence is commendable, on the one
hand. Jewish customs and personal standards have the status
of law and should not be violated without consulting a rov.
But if Mrs. David had analyzed her feelings on a deeper
level, she would have seen that what bothered her wasn't the
fear that she'd be hungry at the wedding. There is ample
pareve fare so that no guest go hungry. But for some
psychological reason, the idea of not being able to eat the
meat at a wedding does dampen the moods of certain people,
especially when they plan to remain till the end. For them,
not eating the main course takes the `punch' out of the
entire affair and is like sending a child to a Purim carnival
without money. We are human...
Practically speaking, a person who can alleviate such
negative feelings by giving himself a rousing pep talk is
truly admirable. But one who can't, might feel better if,
before leaving for the wedding, s/he prepared a tasty, meat
meal to eat when s/he got home.
Mrs. David's main faux pas was her emphasis on the word "`we'
won't be able to eat..." which has a highly condescending
undertone. She could have been more tactful, or not said
anything at all. Surely, after greeting the kalla and
relatives at the wedding, she would have found enough with
which to rejoice.
SCENE THREE
Yocheved tells her husband, "I heard that the Bechavrusa
program for bar mitzva boys is planning a Melave Malka next
week. Don't you think I should volunteer to bake the cakes
and cook the chickpeas? It is so important to preserve the
kedusha of our children. After all, one worm... one
bug..."
Of course the motives are commendable and her concern is of
the utmost importance. But why should Yocheved feel that her
checking is more effective than that of other mothers? There
are Torah criteria for determining the integrity of our
fellow Jews regarding the fulfillment of religious
requirements and functions, and we should ascertain them
before being judgmental. Attitudes like Yocheved's might
produce children who are overly critical or suspicious of
others.
SCENE FOUR
"Chaim, where is your wedding going to be?" Itzik asks an
irreligious brother.
"In Nof Avivim, in Tel Aviv."
"Is it kosher?"
"What do you think? I made sure to reserve a kosher hall so
that you and your family can come. It's even glatt
kosher."
"Whose hechsher does it have? Who is the
mashgiach?"
"Rabbi Ploni."
"Well, then, we won't eat there."
Chaim's face falls. Had Itzik done his homework properly, he
wouldn't have offended his brother. We are referring to two
types of homework: current homework, which should have
involved a call to the hall's mashgiach, who may be a
chareidi Jew himself and, if courteously approached, might
not have been offended if Itzik had explained his situation
and asked which food items he could eat at his brother's
wedding.
Secondly, if he had done his ongoing homework and treated his
irreligious brother warmly all along, Chaim might have
conferred with him before renting the hall, and while opting
out of a hall in a chareidi neighborhood, would have ordered
special food from a caterer of Itzik's choice for his family.
Itzik might even have drawn him back to Yiddishkeit by
maintaining a warm relationship...
*
What did R' Zerach Braverman, a member of the Old Yishuv who
lived a century ago, do when he went on an extended campaign
to settlements in the north to strengthen their Jewish
observance? He certainly wouldn't eat in the homes of the
residents whose towns lacked qualified shochtim. In
the evenings, he would retreat to a dark corner of the
shul and would unobtrusively eat a meager meal of
grapes and dry bread and then lie down to sleep. All of the
settlers were eager to host him and each assumed that he was
lodging at someone else's house, but this way, he avoided
offending anyone by not eating in their home.
In conclusion: Each family should set its own kashrus
standards as well as their range of flexibility. By employing
`pleasant ways' in exercising these standards, people will be
respected and also make a Kiddush Hashem.
*
And what happened with Morah Rochel? She cancelled the
practice of collecting goodies and asked the students to
contribute a sum to the monthly mesiba fund. She
appointed Chavi to many committees and paired her with Malki
in a number of projects.
