Put On Your Yarmulke (Wear My Shoes)

The rabbi's little four-year-old boy sat on a chair in the shul, facing a few of his father's guests. One older man noticed that the small boy was bare-headed. 'Where's your yarmulke?' he asked. 'Put on your yarmulke. You have to have a yarmulke on your head. Go on, go find it, and put it on. You have to put on your yarmulke.' The child refused. 'No!' he said, smiling precociously.

I sat nearby, observing and thinking. What motivated the man? Why was it so important to him that the little boy have his head covered? Why did the child refuse? And what a vast gap exists between the two people, the child and the man...

The man insisted on the child's wearing of a kippa, or yarmulke, in a stubborn and inflexible way. Why? Why was it so important to the man that the boy wear a kippa? The man is not learned, and his connection to Judaism seems to me to be mostly based on the basic halacha, or Jewish law system, with not much philosophical or ideological depth of thought and personal, emotional connection beneath the surface. I believe that his motivation in his insistence here was "because that's what must be done": Torah law says that men must cover their heads, and here was a young Jewish boy, whose father is a rabbi, sitting in the shul with an uncovered head. This is completely wrong, and the situation must be rectified immediately. In terms of relating personally to the boy, the man had a bare minimum of real contact with him: sure, he spoke to him, in simple English that he would understand, but he completely failed to understand the boy and where he was coming from, and how he would relate to the situation and the issues at play.

What about the boy? His father is a rabbi, and he goes to a very 'religious' nursery school. He is completely surrounded by Judaism and its comprehensive laws and lifestlye everywhere he goes. Believe me, he knows that he's supposed to wear a kippa. But, thank G-d, his parents are easy-going, and impressively in-touch with their kids and their needs. So, while they are always reminding their children of the way to live as Jews, they understand where the kids are at, and they are patient and tolerant with them. They understand that pedantically insisting on complete compliance with the Halacha will do much, much more damage to their kids and their Judaism than a more patient, understanding, incremental, positive approach. This is clear from the boy's negative, rebellious response to the inflexible insistence of the man in our scenario. But the boy's parents understand that, right now, the little boy doesn't want to put on his kippa. That's okay, he's taking a break. But later, at the supper table, he will have to have it on, and, as he gets older, he will learn to wear it more regularly. The mitzvot are taught in a gradual, human, understanding way.

So, what's behind the large cultural and religious gap between the young boy and the older man? Firstly, the older man's connection to Judaism is concerning, because although he is clearly passionate about Judaism, his perspective is very limited and shallow. He seems, like so many Jews in our generation, to know a lot of the laws, but to have very little connection to the deeper meanings of Judaism, ie. "What It's All About." Torah is not just a system of laws; the technical rules are merely the basis of the system; the system in its entirety is one that cultivates ethics, morals, sensitivity, refinement of action, speech and thought, and a dedication to spiritual truth and a connection to the Master of the universe. The most concrete and most basic way that we go about 'being Jews' is by keeping to the solid, physically based laws. Hopefully we eventually progress to understanding more of what is behind the laws, becoming sensitive to other people, and becoming more ethically and morally refined.

The second issue in the gap is one of empathy, all the more difficult because this gap spans generations. The old generation and the new generation: historical, human cliche, perhaps. But nevertheless, in interacting with those whose world is rooted largely in years, trends, and ideas conceived before we were around, we need to remind ourselves to respect them for their knowledge and worldly wisdom, and not to scorn them for being 'out of date'. The Torah says: "מפני שיבה תקום, והדרת פני זקן" - "Rise before an elderly person, and honour the presence of an elder (wise, old person)." (ויקרא יט:לב) (Leviticus 19:32) And of course, for all their wisdom, older people need to remember that the world of the young people is different to their own, and that today there may be new factors, challenges, issues, phenomena.

But there's more to the gap. "Before you judge someone, walk a mile in their shoes. You'll be a mile away, and you'll have their shoes." A funny saying, that nonetheless has a kernel of truth in it. How can I judge you if I have not walked in your shoes, if I don't know what it's really like to be you? In truth, it is never possible to have a complete feeling of what it must be like to be somebody else. But we have to try, to the best of our abilities. A beautiful thing about the human experience is that nobody ever has the same experience as another person. Every human being, and his/her life, is unique. Before we try to give someone advice, or to judge them in some way, we need to try to understand them as holistically as possible. Where are they coming from? Where are they going? How do those shoes feel on his/her feet, anyway?

So, we need to deepen our Torah experience to beyond the basics, beyond the technicalities and rules; we need to become G-dly people, and that takes thought, sensitivity, and deep personal connection to Torah and to G-d. And of course, before you tell me to put on my kippa, won't you please take a walk in my shoes?