Presence

Those of you who know my son Ezra (age 6, first grade) know he is, to say the least, inquisitve (something about apples and trees...). I have often referred to this type of inquisitiveness as a combined blessing and curse, and hoped that I would not pass it along to my children. In Ezra, at least, that hope has failed; whether through nature or nurture, he displays the same curiosity that his old man does, albeit about 10 years early. So, basically, we're in for a bumpy ride.

This past Shabbos, Ezra, who besides being infinitely curious is extremely sensitive, imaginative and just a tad squemish (I, er, swear I have no idea where he, um, got this from...), asked me a question while we were discussing the parsha. He looked at me, with fear and uncertainty in his eyes, and asked if he was in fact made of dirt.

Now, I'm looking at my six year old son, who is close to tears out of fear. I'm sure for many boys, the revelation that they are made of dirt is an amusing novelty. For Ezra however, I saw this new information, relayed from a trusted source, created all sorts of questions in his mind, some with staggering ramifications to the world view of an overly self-aware six-year old.

My first reaction was to sweep away his concerns, to tell him that he is not made out of dirt and that his rebbe was wrong and he doesn't need to worry about a thing (Ezra explained he was afraid that if he got a cut, dirt would come out). I felt a slight twinge of anger at the system for sensationalizing something that anyone with common sense knows is to be taken as an allegory. Before I answered his question, however, I paused to think about how I would respond, since, just as the passage in question concerns Man's beginnings, my response could have far-reaching affects on my son's education and relationship with his rebbe.

My dilema was, how do I tell the truth and maintain my son's respect for his teachers? I decided, rather than contradict what my son had been taught, I would take a chance and trust him. I explained that, while he is not actually made out of dirt, he is made out of stuff, the same stuff that dirt is made out of. That when the Torah says God created Man out of dirt, and breathed life into him, that it means that he is comprised of two parts, one that is stuff, that we can see and touch, and one that we can't see, that is not stuff. Ezra asked if that was his neshama, his soul, and I said it was. He asked if anyone could see his soul, and I said no; no one can see your soul, because it isn't a thing like your arm or your leg, or your heart or your brain. What about Rebbe?, he asked. I said Rebbe, and others, could tell what kind of a soul he had by the way he acts, by what he does. We continued to talk for a few minutes about other things from the parsha, till the inevitably short attention span of a six year old boy imposed itself.

I think this was significant moment in my relationship with my son, more so for myself even than for him. Since the day he was born I've struggled with how I would educate Ezra without compromising the truth that I see and what he will be shown. The answer, I think, is trust (which, not coincidentally, comes from the same root as truth - in English and in Hebrew). Although Ezra probably feels he was the one that learned something that day, I would disagree. I think we both learned something important, something that will shape both our lives for years to come.