After serving the northern Chicago suburbs of Highland Park, Glencoe and Wilmette for two decades, Congregation Hakafa (Hebrew for “the circle”) still didn’t have a synagogue building. These northern suburbs were among the most affluent of all of Illinois, so they certainly had the necessary financial resources. Rather than investing in a building, they had opted to invest in the Jewish education—especially of their children—in response to the instruction to “teach these things diligently to your children” [Deut 6:4-7, The Koren Jerusalem Bible]. This passage which starts with the Shema is the one thing that stuck with me from my own Jewish education.
Pegi and I had been consciously following HaShem as adults for two decades. Abi had only recently turned 13. She had not had much exposure to life from a Jewish perspective. Most significantly, since Pegi and I had been hanging out in the Christian world up until this time, she had never been around other Jewish kids her age. She had a nascent instinct concerning her Jewish identity, but that needed to grow. As parents, we hadn’t provided her instruction as to what her budding Jewish identity was all about. We need to “diligently” teach her the “things” she would need for her own life with HaShem.
As I wrote this today, I was reminded of the Crosby, Stills & Nash song from 1970, that says, “Teach your children well.” The lyrics paint a scene of living by a code while traveling the road of life. Parents are encouraged to, “Feed them on your dreams” so that they can find their own way. The interesting lyric which follows reverses the flow to where the children feed their parents on their dreams. The parents inspire the child who in-turn inspires the parent as they all travel the road of life.
You can’t teach what you don’t know and you can’t demonstrate what you haven’t experienced. Anything else is just theory. To teach Abi well, Pegi and I would need to learn more and experience Jewish life more deeply. But, to just dive into the pool of Jewish life was risky. My father had tried just tossing me in that pool, but when I came up for air, I couldn’t stay afloat for long just dog-paddling! A better solution would to have been to start me wading in the shallow water where I could progress at my own pace. Neither were Pegi and I ready to just dive into the deep waters of 3500 years of Jewish learning. All of us needed to spend some time in the shallow end of the pool. It turned out, that Hakafa was that shallow entrance to Jewish life that we all needed. That is not to say that there wasn’t depth there—there was depth, but the approach/entrance was right at the level that we needed at that time. It was the ideal context for us to begin our reentry to Judaism.
(To this day, this “circle of friends” continues to rent space in the Glencoe Recreation Center and Winnetka Community House, so that they can devote resources to teaching their children well.)
In 1999, after our meeting with Rabbi Marx, we made our first visit as a family at the Glencoe Recreation Center on a Sunday morning in September. Pegi, Abi and I were “dressed up” rather than in casual attire as we were accustomed to do when visiting any type of gathering for the first time. Better to be overdressed than underdressed! After parking, we were wandering through the mostly empty recreation center. We were about 20 minutes early—better early than late! [When we lived in Israel with 9 million other Jews we discovered that “being late” was a feature of Jewish life. After all, each one of us is in a personal relationship with HaShem and should we rush Him just to please everyone else?]
As we looked for signs of life or even just a literal sign to point us in the right direction, we ran into a nice looking twenty-something man wearing a kippah (skullcap). His face lit up with a smile when he saw that we were visitors and he introduced himself as the youth rabbi. Rabbi Bruce Elder would be a pivotal character in Abi’s life in the coming days and years. He would later become our rabbi when Rabbi Marx retired. So, not only did he assist us in teaching Abi, but he was instrumental in our learning as well. For Pegi, who had not had any Jewish education, he would guide her through full immersion into Jewish living.
Noticing our business casual attire, Bruce told us that in this “circle” you just “come as you are—no need to dress up.” That welcoming spirit was characteristic of Hakafa. There was no need to put on airs. Everyone was accepted as they were. Everyone was welcome no matter their background, Jewish or Gentile, rich or poor, attractive or not, religious or secular, etc. Hakafa invited all who desired to walk through life with God. Consequently, Hakafa was populated with a broad range of people with diverse histories. It was filled with the sounds of life, but it was not an echo chamber.
I think we all struggle with how we will be perceived when we encounter others. It is important to know that God accepts you as you are. After all, He created you in His image and likeness:
ืַืִּืְืจָ֨ื ืֱืֹืִ֤ืื ׀ ืֶืช־ืָֽืָืָื֙ ืְּืฆַืְื֔ืֹ ืְּืฆֶ֥ืֶื ืֱืֹืִ֖ืื ืָּืจָ֣ื ืֹืช֑ืֹ ืָืָ֥ืจ ืּื ְืงֵืָ֖ื ืָּืจָ֥ื ืֹืชָֽื׃
And God created humankind in his image, in the image of God did he create it, male and female he created them.
[Gen 1:26 — The Schocken Bible, Everett Fox, 1995]
As we entered the new millennium, we were together as a family in the midst of a circle of families that was part of the larger circle of families — “B'nai Yisrael" (ืְּื ֵื ืִืฉְׂืจָืֵื) - the children of Israel — no longer “wandering” down the path of life alone.
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