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The Irrepressible Jewish Mother

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May 8, 2015
We'd just read The Boston Girl by Anita Diamant (best-selling author of The Red Tent), and my book club's discussion kept circling back to her depiction of the main character's immigrant mother. No one questioned the sheer luck and audacity of the daughter's rags-to-riches tale in early 20th-century America, a time rampant with prejudice against both Jews and women. What set this group's teeth on edge was how the book portrayed a Jewish mother.

 

Kvetching was okay, it seemed. A daily habit of spouting Jewish proverbs and old-world superstitions merited nary a second glance. Even constant criticism—which we now consider a terrible way to raise a child—might have been acceptable, back in the day. What they couldn't abide was this woman's sheer meanness—her sadistic put downs of a daughter whose academic and business accomplishments would make any normal parent kvell mit naches (glow with pride). “Why did the author create such an awful mother?” they wondered. “She's a Jewish mother, after all. No Jewish mother would ever behave like that!”

 

Naturally, our talk then veered off-topic toward the definition of a “Jewish mother.” “A selfless woman with unconditional love for her children” was a common thread. Because contemporary Jewish women have also been at the forefront of the feminist revolution— and are known to practice self-actualization both for themselves and their offspring—the “total sacrifice” aspect of Jewish motherhood has been tempered of late. Along with (to their kids' great relief), the earlier generation's habit of living their lives through their children, with heavy-handed sprinklings of Jewish guilt.

 

But that doesn't mean Jewish mothers have abandoned their calling altogether. If anything, they're more visible than ever—as “helicopter moms,” PTA activists, and even, sad to say, over-the-top coddlers, like the woman who calls her son at his college dorm each morning to make sure he wakes up in time for class. The adage that “a mother is only as happy as her least happy child” seems to hold double for Jewish mothers. Invariably, whenever I get a call from an out-of-town friend who's put aside a long time to chat, it's because she wants to discuss a problem with one of her kids. My friends call to let off steam, but also to ask for advice on how to get their children to see (and change) the “error of their ways.”

 

As a fellow Jewish mother, I can sympathize. And I'm often roped into their cause. If an 11-year-old suddenly exhibits traits of nascent pyromania and hangs around with a rough crowd, it doesn't matter if he's going through “the typical pre-adolescent phase.” What matters is his safety and, by extension, his mom's peace of mind. First and foremost, the dangerous behavior must be stopped.

 

And if you think the drama's over once the kids have graduated and are supporting themselves (to a degree: nowadays parental “help” doesn't appear to come with an expiration date), you're in for a rude awakening. Those same children you've taken pride in developing a “close relationship” with, don't suddenly stop sharing the details of their lives. And when they do, you might not like what you hear.

 

Last Sunday, I met up with a good friend to see a special exhibition of Frida Kahlo's work at our local art museum. She could barely look at the paintings because—and she had to share this on the gallery's bench—her 24-year-old daughter was giving her so much grief. The girl had just driven her car cross-country to her new home, and job, on the West Coast. Of course the mother could barely sleep at night till she'd arrived in one piece. But then mom found out that now that her daughter had her own car, she was also using it to deliver the business's daily cash deposits ALONE after midnight at an outside ATM. (Earlier, she'd had a company driver take her to the bank.) All law enforcement sites advise depositing large sums of money when banks are open or, at the very least, going with a partner. Yet her daughter, a mere 5'2″ slip of a girl, refused to acknowledge she was putting herself in danger.

 

Unfortunately, this mother had “cried wolf” too often with her constant worrying, and the daughter had learned over the years to tune her out. Still, this time was different; her reckless behavior posed a real potential for bodily harm. We decided to enlist her dad and older sister to the cause—but they too were rebuffed. So we headed back to my house, and computer, where we composed an email to the girl's superior, outlining (well-founded) parental concerns for her safety. (My friend received a response the very next day with a CC to her daughter suggesting she make her bank deposits the following morning, instead.) Of course, the girl got right back to her mom shouting, “Don't youever interfere in my work again!” But she did pause to thank her, once more, for the gift of her car.

 

The primary commandment regarding any religious observation states: Nothing comes before saving a life. By preventing the real possibility of an attack on her daughter, by whatever means were at her disposal, my friend may very well have saved her daughter's life. As an irrepressible Jewish mother, she could do no less. As for butting into her children's lives, my friend simply told me, “I can't help it, I'm a Jewish mother.” She's happy to live with an angry child, content in the knowledge that at least she's out of harm's way.

 

From comedic nudnik (pest) to tragic heroine, the traditional Jewish mother has been cursed and honored by generations of Jews throughout history. For as long as there are Jewish children to raise, she'll loom large in their lives. At least once a year, it's important to celebrate the women who made us—for their caring hearts, loving concern, and yes, the over-the-top involvement that will likely remain a burr in the sides of young Josh and Jocelyn for many years to come.

 

© 2015  Mindy Leaf

 

Mindy Leaf has worked as a professional freelance writer for the past 30 years. Her specialties include travel, culture, the arts and, most recently, a self-imposed weekly essay (or rant) spouting the unvarnished truth—as she sees it.

 

Follow Mindy's weekly essays of biting social commentary at: https://aglassnotes.wordpress.com

For unbiased life advice see: https://askmamaglass.wordpress.com

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