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Israel at 60 - Israel is our Jewish Home: Integrating Israel at Home with Young Children

by Maxine Handelman

If I forget thee, O Jerusalem,
Let my right hand wither.
Let my tongue stick to my palate if
I cease to think of you. (Psalms 137:5-6)

Our connection to and love for Israel is at the core of a Jewish identity. Our relationship with Israel connects us to Jews all over the world. We strive to instill in young children a feeling of belonging to Israel because Israel gives us so much: a sense of pride, a connection to our history, a gathering place for all Jews, and a place to feel holy and close to God. While the concept of "country" is very difficult for young children to grasp, the concept of "home" is not. Israel is our Jewish home. We want children to love Israel, even if they don't understand just how far away it is.

Both of my children went to Israel in utero, and we took my eldest daughter there when she was a year and a half old. It was too young for her to remember the trip, surely. But later, at four years old, she knew that she had been in Israel, saw the pictures of herself standing in front of the Kotel (Western Wall), and felt connected to the place that her parents, grandparents and even great-grandparents have visited many times. She knows she will go there again (although she told her best friend Marc that while they can go to Israel to visit our friends David and Hadas, they can't live there, since it's too far from her parents).

Bringing even very young children to Israel is the best way to begin to build a strong foundation of love for Israel. But as with any destination, the more you know before you go, the more powerful the trip will be. And even with no visit to Israel on the horizon, we are bound as parents of young children to immerse children in Israel, to begin to build a foundation of love and connection to Israel. The more children feel connected to the land and people of Israel before they ever make the trip there, the more meaningful the actual trip will be, and the more long-lasting the experience and the connection to Israel.

Establishing a relationship between Israel and our children is a first step toward implanting a feeling of peoplehood within them as Jews. At a World Zionist Organization Early Childhood Conference, Dr. Ruth Pinkenson-Feldman discussed thematic approaches to teaching about Torah and the land of Torah: Israel. She said that the child in the Diaspora is born into an Israel of the imagination. Unless (or until) children go to Israel, they can only imagine what it might be like. Children worldwide need to be welcomed into a relationship with Israel.

Children have the ability to connect to Israel in different ways at different ages. The youngest children, infants to under two years old, are very concrete. They can listen to Israeli music, play with the colors and shapes of the Israeli flag (no need to “get it right,” just play), and they can learn to identify the Magen David (Jewish Star) on the Israeli flag. Two-years-olds can begin to understand that they live in a certain town, and that other people live in other places. With two-year-olds, name recognition can begin. A typical conversation might go like this: We live in Teaneck. Where does Grandma live? That’s right, Grandma lives in Chicago! And where does David (if you have a personal friend or relative living in Israel) / Kippi ben Kippod (if you watch Shalom Sesame, the Israeli version of Sesame Street) live? He lives in Israel! Three-year- olds will really enjoy learning words and songs in Hebrew, and will be able to understand that people in Israel speak Hebrew. Three-year-olds who have been on an airplane trip can understand that Israel is a long plane ride away. Four-year-olds can begin to connect to Israel as their Jewish homeland, a place where Jews from all over the world go to live. Four-year-olds can compare the weather in their own town to the weather in Israel. Four-year-olds can recognize the flag of Israel and the shape of Israel on a map. And four-year-olds can pray for peace in Israel.

There are many ways Israel can be woven into life at home. The first way is by bringing in Hebrew in playful ways. Websites like www.israeliscent.com (or just google Israeli children’s music) have wonderful Israeli children's music. Even if you don't understand all the words, the music is terrific to dance and play to, while creating a background of connection to Israel. You can also play Israeli modern artists like David Broza and Achi Noam Nini. Additionally, you can add some basic Hebrew phrases to your every day repertoire – like Boker Tov (good morning), Todah (thank you), and b’vakashah (please as well as you’re welcome).

Israeli food is another important point of connection. Beyond the typical pita, felafel and hummus fare, it is a good idea to point out, and buy, Israeli products in the grocery store. "See these oranges? Jaffa oranges come from Israel!" Chocolate, cookies, spices – you will find all sorts of foods that come from Israel, if you take the time to look. And the grocery store is not the only place you'll be surprised by the Israeli goods. Clothing, bathing suits, and hand lotions are just a few of the items that might be Israeli. When you discover an Israeli product, point it out to your child. Take delight with your child in being able to buy something from Israel. In this way, "Israel" becomes a household word.

You can also help build your child's connections to Israel by involving your child in giving tzedakah to Israel. Plant a tree through JNF and let your child pick the design of the certificate. Seek ways through your school, synagogue or local federation to give to Israel. Anything your children might be interested in using their tzedakah money for – helping children, animals, the environment, hungry people, whatever – can be supported in Israel. Talk with your child about how you are helping people in Israel, and let your child put the check in the mailbox.

As Israel is turning 60, you can find new ways to connect your children to Israel. Consider assigning your child the task of finding someone they know well who is 60 years old (give or take 1-2 years). Then have your child find someone they know well who is significantly older than 60 (70+) and ask that person to tell them what they remember about Israel becoming a state.

Jewish children need to be drawn into a relationship with Israel. Using books, stories, pictures, food and other strategies, parents need to do everything in their power to help flesh out each child's imagination of Israel so that each child begins to form a connection to and love for this home so far away.

Maxine Handelman is the United Synagogue of Conservative Judaism's Consultant for Early Childhood Education.

Israel at 60: Book Recommendations as Israel Turns 60 Years Old

by Kay Pomerantz

As Israel celebrates its sixtieth year enjoy reading from the following book selections taken from the PJ Library (check out PJlibrary.org)

For one-year-olds:
Let's Visit Israel, by Judye Groner (published by Kar-Ben)

For two-year-olds:
It's Israel's Birthday, by Tod Cohen (published by Kar-Ben)

For three-year-olds:
Sammy Spider's First Trip to Israel, by Sylvia Rouss (published by Kar-Ben)

For five-year-olds:
Snow in Jerusalem, by Deborah da Costa (published by Albert Whitman)

For six-year-olds:
One City, Two Brothers, by Chris Smith (published by Barefoot Books)

The PJ Library seeks to engage Jewish families with young children. Each participating child receives a high quality Jewish children’s book or CD every month, through age six. Each book comes with resources to help families use the selection in their homes.

Raising Ready Readers

by Kay Kantor Pomerantz

No single factor is more important to success in school than reading. And the home is the most important influence to encourage reading. The National Education Association offers parents the following tips to help establish good reading habits early. It's never too soon to start.

Tips for reading to infants and toddlers:

Tips for reading with children in kindergarten through third grade:

Setting a good example as a parent, by reading every day at home is so important. Even if it is a magazine or newspaper, it will be noticed. Make reading fun. It should be a time you both look forward to spending together. Enjoy.

Now and Forever

by Bradley Shavit Artson

One of the most terrifying aspects of getting married is the idea of making a commitment to one person for the rest of your life. One of the most daunting responsibilities of parenthood is knowing that another life is dependent on you forever. Even going to the pound to get a pet can intimidate because of the permanence of the commitment. In a society of people terrified by commitment, in a world in which people worry about what they might be giving up, what options they might be foreclosing, or that they might simply get bored by a particular relationship, the idea of a dependency that lasts forever is a frightening one indeed.

One of the ways we lull ourselves into a willingness to commit is by disguising the extent of our own interdependence. Rather than facing the full extent of a marriage, we assure ourselves that it's only one day at a time, that the back door is always open. We delude ourselves that life will return to normal once the kids grow up and move away on their own. And we never think about the extent of our involvement to our aging parents or our adult siblings. Ours is a culture that always keeps an eye on the exit, one foot out the door. I’ve got to be me.

Jewish culture offers a healthy alternative to the independent nature of American relationships. In fact, our Torah offers an interesting and unexpected perspective that might be helpful in our own age. In Parashat Tetzaveh, the Torah speaks of the erection of the Mishkan (the Tabernacle) in the wilderness. This was Israel's portable site of worship and sacrifice, the precursor and role model for King Solomon's Temple in Jerusalem. The Israelites were commanded to build a site where they could encounter God, and to furnish it with an altar, and with a Ner Tamid, an eternal light: "And you shall command the children of Israel that they bring you pure olive oil beaten for light, to cause the lamp to burn continually."

Always sensitive to unusual language, the Rabbis of the Talmud notice that the Hebrew translates literally as "to cause the light to go up continually." So they explain that phrase to mean that "he [the priest] kindles the light until the flame rises by itself." In other words, the kohen must care for the light until it can maintain itself without his direct involvement. It's not enough just to light the flames, he is also responsible for assuring that they can continue to burn without his immediate attention.

In that regard, the care that the kohen lavishes over the Ner Tamid is not unlike the commitment we make whenever we enter a relationship. It comes as no surprise to parents that initiating that connection implies guiding the children to their own independence: good parenting doesn't stop with the immediate physical needs of the children, but extends to giving them the insight, values, and self-confidence to be able to maintain themselves after the parents are no longer there. Purchasing a pet from the pound involves a commitment to be there for the animal long after the immediate thrill has dissipated, ensuring that the pet can sustain itself throughout its lifetime. So, too, with elderly parents, good children provide for their parents' physical and emotional needs so that they, too, can shine on their own.

The light of the Ner Tamid shines into the recesses of human relationships, mandating that we care in such a way that the recipient of our love is strengthened by our involvement, is better able to cope with life on their own. The kohen cares, as it were, for the dignity of the Ner Tamid, providing it with the ability to shine on its own. We, too, must care for each other so that our mutual dignity is fortified, so that resilience, independence, and well-being are all enhanced by our love and our care.

One difference between living things and the Ner Tamid, however, has to do with permanence. While the Ner Tamid can definitively be established so it can flame on its own, no human being is ever fully independent, ever a finished product. The instruction to cultivate it until it can burn on its own is really a commandment to be constantly involved, to open ourselves to life-long commitments to those we love: our spouses, our parents, our siblings, our children, and our friends.

Just as God's love and care never ends, so our own must become eternal as well.

Rabbi Bradley Shavit Artson is the Dean of the Ziegler School of Rabbinic Studies and Vice President of the American Academy (formerly the University of Judaism).

Our Mothers, Ourselves

by Sue DePasquale

Our mothers had it right. That's the conclusion I've been coming back to in recent months as I strive daily – and in vain – to be a "good mother" by today's standards to my three little boys. A few of my shortcomings this week alone: served only three fruits yesterday and they were all orange (not the prescribed five to nine per child with at least three being blue), lost my temper and began scrubbing my 6-year-old's teeth when he refused to do it himself, forgot the fourth-grader's cello, made brownies from a mix, allowed the baby to take a bottle to bed, argued about money with my husband in front of the children, and let everyone up past bedtime on a school night to watch American Idol. Such transgressions, I'm well aware, are sure to have major fallout for my kids in the form of childhood obesity, poor self-esteem, proclivity to cancer, anxiety, sleep deprivation and resulting in poor school performance... and rotten baby teeth.

Okay, so I'm being a little facetious, but the truth is that guilt and self-doubt have become my daily companions in the decade I've spent navigating the shoals of motherhood. Judging from my commiserations with fellow moms, I'm certainly not alone.

All of which brings me back to motherhood, a generation ago – the era when Maebell Turner, mother of Maryland Lieutenant Governor Michael Steele, A&S '81, learned from her son that he'd been kicked out of college for poor grades. Maebell Turner didn't agonize about what she could have done differently to have spared Michael this fate. What she did was say, "I don't care what you do, and I don't care how you do it. But you will be back at Johns Hopkins come September!"

My own mom, a schoolteacher, missed all my school field trips. She allowed soda at dinner, put no limits on our TV viewing, and left us to our own devices on weekends with, "Go outside and play." Mom, like Maebell Turner, probably never wasted one ounce of psychic energy second-guessing her parenting skills. And yet I – Michael Steele, and a host of other 30- and 40-somethings – managed to grow up feeling secure and well-loved.

It's time, I'm convinced, to take a page from our mothers' books. To relax, stop beating ourselves up, and know that our children are resilient creatures who can survive, even flourish, in households where mommies get mad, floors go unmopped, and WonderBread gets served.

Sue DePasquale is editor, Johns Hopkins Magazine. Reprinted with permission, Johns Hopkins Magazine, April 2005

Naming Our Children

by Jane Geller Epstein

We know that a “rose by any other name is still a rose...” and that “a rose is a rose is a rose….” But when is a rose known by another name, and when is a rose not a rose? It is all, of course, a matter of naming and semantics. We Jews attach much to names, as do many cultures. The names by which we are known go back thousands of years, some more than four thousand. They originated with our earliest Hebrew ancestors, whose own names were perhaps borrowed from the civilizations in which they lived and through which they traveled. Our own more recent relatives acquired names, willingly or forcibly, also under the influence of the local population. Ivan, Irving, Morris, Eugene, Bayla, Sadie, Milly, and Molly all in just a few generations transformed into Allen, Mitchell, Evan, Betsy, Sheila, and Megan. Throughout the generations, our names have mirrored our surroundings while also reaching back to those who preceded us.

Within the Jewish tradition, names can be inherited from friends or relatives who have died (as in the Ashkenazic tradition) or from those who are lovingly still alive (as amongst the Sephardim). Names can be bestowed upon children according to the season or time of their birth – such as Esther, for a girl born near the holiday of Purim, or Aviva for a girl born in the flowering spring (in Hebrew “aviv” means spring). Sometimes the parents want to attach a particular attribute to the child through a name – such as Nechama (meaning, consolation) after the death of someone dear, or Yaffa (Hebrew for beautiful), for the joy of seeing such a beautiful child born to them.

In modern times, rather than taking a literal name in honor or memory of another person, parents often take the first letter of the name of one to be remembered and then choose a name they prefer that begins with the same letter. Or, some parents take a Yiddish form of a name that had been popular in Europe and then update it to an appropriate Hebrew form (Yossel becomes Yosef, Lazer becomes Elazar or Eliezer, Sura becomes Sara, etc.).

Having worked in nursery schools for many years, I saw trends, both encouraging and discouraging, in names that parents gave to children. Over the years, I saw children being given the names of relatives of my parents’ generation: Sam, Max, Molly and Sophie. I saw the influence of Hebrew and names from Israel: Yael, Tal, Yehuda and Galit. And, of course, I saw names that were a mirror of our popular culture: Tiffany, Mackenzie, Chad and Liam. For more than 30 years, my husband and I have followed the birth announcements in a weekly Jewish community newspaper. We never could understand how Brittany Joy could be named for great-grandma Sara Leah, or how Bradley Scott was derived from Avraham David. We all want our children to blend into the world in which they live. Hopefully in doing so, we do not deprive them of connecting back to the individuals whose memories are being preserved.

Names are very personal, and sometimes as the child matures he or she rejects the name that had been given at birth. Many years ago, our youngest child decided around the age of 8 that she no longer liked her name. She told us that she wanted to be known, instead, as Debbie. We were shocked, but responded that we had just recently written a will which cited her as Arielle. She could use the name Debbie, but she would not be recognized as such through the will. That was the last and only time she asked us to call her Debbie.

With the use of name dictionaries, we can spend a full nine months of pregnancy pondering names each day until a child is born. Sometimes parents do not want to use a name for someone they want to memorialize because relatives from the other side of the family already have the same name, or maybe someone they once knew and disliked had that name. Instead, finding meaningful variations often work. My grandmother’s English name was Rose. Her Hebrew name was Rachel. In today’s world, a girl named for her could easily be called Rachel, Vered (Hebrew for Rose) or Shoshana (another word for rose).

I have attended many brit mila ceremonies and simchat bat or namings for girls at which the parents explained in detail how they arrived at the name (or names – first and middle) for the child. At one, the father related that the name they chose reflected the struggle to conceive and give birth to the child. (Along this line, our ancestor Isaac – meaning laughter – was named because his father and mother each laughed when told that they would become parents in their old age.) One of our daughters was due on Rosh Hashana, the time of the year when God judges us for our actions during the previous year and seals our fate for the year to come. Accordingly, we gave her the middle name Danielle, referring to God as judge (the Hebrew word for judge is “dayan”).

Our Rabbis long ago said that we all have three names – one given to us by God at conception, one that our parents gave us (through which we are known), and the one we earn through our actions during our lifetime (either for good or for bad). May the names we choose to give our children reflect the holiness of their destinies and the remembrance of those who came before them. And may all of our children acquire names of renown for the good that they will do for others and to improve the world.

Jane Geller Epstein is a retired early childhood educator and administrator.

Jerusalem of Gold — A Book for Parents to Enjoy

Jerusalem serves as a cultural cornerstone in Jewish history and folklore. “That is the wonderful thing about Jerusalem: it is a place where the historical and the legendary meet.” – From Jerusalem of Gold: Jewish Stories of the Enchanted City

Jerusalem, throughout history, has been central to the life of the Jewish people – so much so that in ancient times it was often portrayed as the center of the world. This sacred city has two histories: one is the actual history and the other is a legendary one. Each is vitally important. Now – as we approach Israel’s 60th year – is an important time to teach children about Jerusalem.

Jerusalem of Gold: Jewish Stories of the Enchanted City (Jewish Lights Publishing/ August 2003/ Hardcover), retold by Howard Schwartz and illustrated by Neil Waldman, is a collection of some of the finest timeless tales ever told about Jerusalem. Collected from a wide variety of sources, ranging from the Talmud to midrash to Jewish folklore and mysticism, these retellings are beautiful and meaningful, fantastical and true – inviting readers to honor the traditions and wisdom of the sacred city.

Jerusalem of Gold: Jewish Stories of the Enchanted City reinforces that everything in Jerusalem is sacred – from the dust under one’s feet to the sun that shines down on the golden city. It celebrates this holy place that has been a rich resource for the Jewish imagination for three thousand years. Readers will discover inspiring classic tales, including:

Replete with illustrations and historic background, Jerusalem of Gold will help deepen understanding of Jewish tradition and the words that helped it survive. This book answers such intriguing questions as: “Why is the Western Wall so important?”; “Where did the very first vampire story come from?”; and, “What did the Red Sea look like as the children of Israel passed through it on their journey to Egypt?”

The Price of Children

This adapted internet piece helps us remember to appreciate all the young people in our lives. Aunts and uncles can enjoy as well as parents and grandparents.

I have repeatedly seen the breakdown of the cost of raising a child, but this is the first time I have seen the rewards listed this way:

The government recently calculated the cost of raising a child from birth to 18 to be $160,140 for a middle income family. Talk about sticker shock! That doesn't even touch college tuition.

But $160,140 isn't so bad if you break it down. It translates into:

Still, you might think the best financial advice is "if you want to be 'rich,' don't have children." Actually, it is just the opposite: What do you get for your $160,140?

For $160,140, you never have to grow up. You get to:

You have an excuse to:

You also get to:

For $160,140, there is no bigger bang for your buck. You get to be a hero just for:

You get a front row seat to witness history:

You get to be immortal. You get another branch added to your family tree, and if you're lucky a long list of limbs called grandchildren and great-grandchildren.

You get an education in psychology, nursing, criminal justice, communications, and human sexuality that no college can match. In the eyes of a child, you rank right up there under God. You have the power to:

One day they, like you, will love without counting the cost. That is quite a deal for the price! Love and enjoy your family!

Summer Reading for Pre-School Through Grade 2

by Amy Kaplan

Summer means long days and plenty of outdoor activity! When the little ones have had enough fun in the sun, pull them onto your lap and share a great story. Here are some ideas to get you started:

Bernstein, Robin. Terrible, Terrible! Rockville, MD: KarBen, 1998.
A family feels their home is too crowded until a wise rabbi offers unusual advice that helps them see things in perspective. There are many versions of this folktale; in this one, the family is contemporary and the rabbi is female.

Davis, Aubrey. Bone Button Borscht. Buffalo: Kids Can Press, 1997.
This Jewish retelling of the familiar “stone soup” story is a winner! Read it aloud with plenty of theatrical gestures and exaggerated voices, it’s sure to please young children.

Forest, Heather. Feathers. Little Rock: August House Little Folk, 2005.
Based on a tale from an 18th-C. Hasidic rabbi, this is one of many available versions of a timeless story. A gossipy villager learns a lesson when a wise rabbi shows her how difficult it is to undo the damage caused by gossip. Bright illustrations and simple text help convey a great lesson.

Heller, Linda. The Castle on Hester Street. NY: Simon & Schuster, 2007.
In this 25th-anniversary edition of a beloved book about immigration to America, Grandma and Grandpa offer Julie two very different versions of their courtship and early lives in America. Always a delight, the book is enhanced with new illustrations.

Hershenhorn, Esther. Chicken Soup by Heart. NY: Simon & Schuster, 2007.
This lovely intergenerational story about a little boy who makes chicken soup for his ailing babysitter does not feature a lot of overt Jewish content, but uses Yiddish words and has a definite Jewish ta'am (flavor).

Sugarman, Brynn Olenberg. Minneapolis: KarBen, 2006.
A Jewish family adopts a baby girl from Vietnam. While the book is ideal for families with children who are adopted, it also helps all children understand the increasingly diverse face of the Jewish community.

Wasserman, Mira. Too Much of a Good Thing. Minneapolis: KarBen, 2004.
A Roman king learns about Shabbat, then decides to celebrate it non-stop. Wise Rabbi Judah teaches the king how to make Shabbat truly special and separate, through the ritual of havdalah. Amusing illustrations accompany the text, based on a story from the Talmud.

Zemach, Kaethe. Just Enough and Not Too Much. NY: Arthur A. Levine, 2003.
Consumerism runs rampant until Simon realizes he doesn’t need so much “stuff.” Very simple text with brightly-colored illustrations make this a fun story with an important message.

Amy Kaplan is Librarian, Congregation Beth El, Voorhees, New Jersey.

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