Modern Mishpocha: ‘Practice makes permanent’

Jenny T. Burns

By Jenny T. Burns

My dad is forever fond of the phrase, “practice makes permanent.” As a music teacher and b’nai mitzvah tutor, he would try to impress on his students that practicing something incorrectly will create an uphill battle. As a kid and student, I was scared this meant I would be stuck with false information or incorrect music scales forever, like eternal earworms.

As an adult, I’ve come to see this phrase as comforting.

Let’s put a pin in that thought.

In my less-than-tidy dining room, my three-year-old saw me clear a space on the table for a breadboard. On it, I placed a loaf of bread and the bread cover. He watched me hunt for my last IKEA candle, which I had to cut in half and put in two candleholders. He watched all of this and said, “Challah! Shabbat!”

My heart burst. My Shabbat was utterly imperfect. The table had notebooks, a bullet journal, my stack of ‘to-read’ books, some confiscated soothers and half-drunk mugs of coffee. I was 100 per cent going to be using my phone and television over the next 24 hours. We’re talking about a far-from-kosher Shabbat here. The Talmudic sages would probably have turned their noses at my Shabbat table, but whatever! My three-year-old was demonstrating that for him, a challah cover and candles means Shabbat! Shabbat means special bread with a special name. Hopefully, more deeply than this, he will come to feel excited and happy when those objects and traditions make their weekly appearance.

Practice makes permanent. This is how I’m going to raise a Jew. Repetition. Practice. The comforting concept of what is practiced becoming permanent.

It does not matter how haphazard our weekly Shabbat dinner is. Yes, we aim for our multigenerational affair with home-baked goodies and my parents’ stunning dining room table. Other times, though, our Shabbat is not-enough-chairs for everyone, guests leaving early and roast chicken from Costco. What is practiced and permanent, however, is that we do it. We do the thing. We light the candles and say the blessings. We bless the wine/juice. We say “L’Chaim.” We bless the challah after the flourish of uncovering it (even if that means we’re opening a box of pizza). The framework is permanent. It’s practiced and in place and thus flexible and adaptable to the chaos of the week.

I also know that this framework and permanence exists in my life because my parents fought for it. Fancy desserts, chocolate milk, and sometimes a Torah story after dinner. These were the Shabbat dinners I remember from my childhood, and as I grew older, those dinners and rituals did not disappear. Sometimes we were at the family dinner service at our synagogue. Sometimes we had guests. Sometimes, our Shabbat dinner started hours after sundown because my dad was working overtime. A few times, we did our Shabbat blessings in a restaurant because my dad was playing a jazz gig at said restaurant.

Sometimes I loved it. Sometimes I thought it was embarrassing and limiting! Now, I get it. My parents were giving me an ongoing gift of Jewish identity. They were helping me practice. They were making Shabbat permanent. They made Shabbat so much a part of my life that when I was living in England, I would call them on Friday nights to make sure I was included in the Shabbat blessings at home. What a gift? I want to give the same one to my children, too.

Now, I’ve been going on and on about Shabbat, but let’s clarify something – you do not have to practice a weekly Shabbat dinner. You are your own Jew doing your best in this crazy world. Shabbat is just my example of something concrete in my Jewish identity. What permanent Jewish traditions are you instilling in your life? What warm, safe memories are you cultivating in your family for comfort and even identity down the road? Is there room for more? Maybe the answer is ‘Not right now you nosy writer!’ but you know what, maybe the answer is yes. Maybe it’s about including a PJ Library book at bedtime every night. Maybe it’s inviting guests to a Shabbat dinner once a month. The choice is yours. It’s always yours. It’s a gift of practicing to permanence that we give ourselves and the next generation.

Modern Mishpocha: Great technology debate and modern communication

Jen Perzow

By Jen Perzow

“Can you please put your phone away?”

That was the first thing I said to my teenage daughter as we sat down to write this column together. We had fun coming up with different topics to explore. Considering the season, I proposed that we write about gift giving. What makes a better gift – things or experiences? She countered that the article would be more interesting if we argued different sides of an issue and tried to identify points of consensus. Seemed like a reasonable approach to a parenting article.

We quickly identified technology as a common irritant between parents and children.

Most of you reading this are all too familiar with challenges related to device time. Technology raises a long list of concerns for parents. We are concerned that device use disrupts sleep, results in addiction, and exposes our kids to unnecessary (and potentially very frightening) risks. They ruin a child’s ability to focus and concentrate and have a detrimental impact on our ability to communicate with one another. Have you heard that the inventors of all of this technology don’t let their kids use it? It may be an urban legend, but if so, it captures a certain fear and disquiet that many parents share with respect to technology.

Insert adolescent eye roll.

My daughter thinks that many parents overreact and treat phones as the root of all evil.

“You think that using a phone automatically means you don’t sleep, that you never do anything else, that you do badly in school and that you don’t have any kind of social life.”

“The reality,” she shared with me, “is that if you’re not allowed to have any technology you can’t have a social life, you can’t do well in school, and it is very hard to do things because communicating is very much online.”

Bonding happens and friendships develop through device use. I’m told that she has missed out on conversations, inside jokes and experiences because she is not allowed to text late at night (but she’s still not allowed).

“If you never talk to your friends, you won’t have a friendship. Texting is the new talking so if you don’t text your friends you’re not going to have a good friendship for very long.”

My daughter also reminded me of a perceived hypocrisy in our home. According to her, parents often tell kids to limit their screen time but spend much more time on their phones than kids. I agree that there is certainly some validity to that observation. Most of us spend a lot of time on our phones. Many of us acknowledge that we need to improve our relationship with technology. I have a hard time convincing my children that I use my phone differently than they do. I’m working, I’m paying bills, and I’m signing up for activities. It’s easy to justify device use. But honestly, are there not times that we are also just wasting time?

How can we expect kids to manage technology that we as adults don’t know how to manage?

Shabbat is a great reminder and opportunity to take regular breaks from technology. My daughter concedes that socializing at shul and spending time with family and friends leaves little time to miss technology. However, she quickly adds, “If it was like that all the time then I would fail at life.” And then asks if she can go back to her phone.

There is a big difference between using devices as entertainment and using them as fundamental tools of communication. My daughter’s belief is that technology is vital to kids. Not because they are addicted to it, but because access is expected everywhere and by everyone.

Modern Mishpocha: When in doubt, Shaboom!

Dara Lithwick

By Dara Lithwick

Near the start of the school year, during the 10 days of repentance between Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur, we received an email from our son’s Grade 2 teacher explaining there had been a few incidents of children not treating each other with respect. Teachers were working with the students to “reinforce positive relationship building and kindness at school,” including modeling positive social interactions and role playing challenging social situations. They encouraged parents to talk with their kids about respect and kindness at home.

My partner Marci and I were taken aback as our children’s school exudes warmth and respect. But we were also heartened the school was treating these incidents as teachable moments and transformative opportunities.

The day we received the email, we had a great sit-down with our kids (our daughter just started junior kindergarten) after dinner about being an ally to any kids who need help, respecting each other, and saying “sorry” when we make mistakes. We talked about being aware when something is awry in class or the playground, and knowing how to step in and be a leader and helper by showing kindness and respect to fellow classmates, and getting a grownup when their help is needed.

That night, I thought about how the timing of the incidents at school meshed well with themes of the High Holidays – about the importance of treating each other well and engaging in teshuvah (heartfelt repentance) when we do something wrong or miss the mark. I wanted to put what had happened in a Jewish frame, as I felt that what was happening could also help show how relevant Judaism is to figuring out how to live and get along.

But I did not quite know where to start.

I turned to my first source of help, “Rabbi” Google, and typed a few words – “teshuvah,” “children,” “respect,” “sorry” – into the search field.

Google nailed the response. One of the first results was a YouTubechannel called BimBam for a series of cartoon shorts titled “Shaboom.”

I was delighted. “Shaboom!” is an animated series geared to four-to-seven-year-olds that combines Jewish wisdom with high quality programming. It is musical, fast paced, sweet, contemporary, addressing universal values through a Jewish lens. It includes 10 episodes plus Passover and Chanukah specials all focused on fixing the world through meaningful acts of loving kindness.

The series stars two magical “sparks,” Gabi and Rafael, who live in a playhouse in the clouds. The reference to “sparks” is intentional, as are their names. In Jewish mystical tradition, following the work of Rabbi Isaac Luria in the 16th century and elaborated through Chasidism, holy sparks are essentially God’s light that shattered into sparks or vessels in the creation of the world. When we engage in acts of tikkun olam (repairing the world), we help redeem the sparks to connect the light back to God, healing God in the process.

The names Gabi and Rafael are also quite meaningful. Rabbinic literature identifies Michael, Gabriel, Uriel and Raphael as the four chief angels who surround the divine throne, each of whom has particular attributes. The Hebrew root in the name Gabriel (Gabi) means strength of God, while Raphael means God’s healer.

Gabi and Rafael have different colour skin, and both take the lead in teaching key concepts. Together they accurately represent the gender and racial diversity of what it means to be Jewish.

The next day I showed two episodes to our kids, and they loved them. They found the situations relevant to their lives. They loved the pacing and the characters, and especially loved learning the Hebrew words. I loved how the episodes are also entertaining and educational for me, and serve as great launching points to talk to my children about the issues that are addressed in the videos.

Since then we have watched episodes about welcoming guests, and visiting the sick, and our kids look forward to more.

Of note, digital studio BimBam, that created “Shaboom,” ended active operations in April after 11 years of creating Jewish content online. At that time, ReformJudaism.org became the steward for all digital storytelling content produced by BimBam, including “Shaboom,” many parenting resources, a library of “Judaism 101” content for young adults, animation of the Torah including a new King David series, totalling more than 400 original videos. Family resources can be found by clicking here. 

When in doubt, Shaboom!