Truth or Dare Shabbat Edition

Published by The Jewish Star
by Ilya Welfeld
Issue of February 19, 2010/ 6 Adar 5770

“Mommy. What do you love more? Your kids or Shabbos?”

My six-year-old stared at me with expectant eyes from across the table. He gloated a bit in anticipation…figured he had me. And he was right. After a few helpless glances at my husband, I conceded, “I’m out.” I felt I couldn’t respond in honesty to this question of truth without great risk. He giggled triumphantly as imaginary images from Jewish history flickered through my brain.
We were playing our usual Friday night game of Truth or Dare, and as always, the kids surprised me with their creative challenges. The same six-year-old had just completed a round of pushups followed by his brother’s admission that he didn’t actually “hate” school. I stood up to clear the table for dessert.

I realize that condoning (read: encouraging) ‘Shabbos Truth or Dare’ may not make me eligible for the Jewish Mother of the Year Award; but allow me to explain.

Several months ago, on a Friday night, our third grader mentioned that a classmate had dared him to do something gross. Said son however, explained that he doesn’t “do dares.” I shepped some nachas, taking pride in his maturity and self-confidence, before suddenly remembering myself hunched in the dark basement of a classmate’s house, knots in my stomach, panicked over an impending junior high school dare. My son, at eight, felt protected from peer pressure. I decided this would be as good a time as ever to add some armor to that shield. As the kids ate dinosaur-shaped chicken nuggets, I told them about a game they would likely be invited to play as they got older. They wondered how I could know what would happen in the future, but they took my word; I am their mother, after all, and they are all still young.

I told them there would come a time when friends will challenge them to a game of “Truth or Dare.” My husband and I tried to explain the way the game works but while our three-year-old daughter loudly repeated “Troof or Dare,” the boys remained baffled. They couldn’t grasp the finer points so I offered examples, underscoring the fact that if a friend should ever suggest they do anything that makes them uncomfortable — they must simply say no. No to anything remotely dangerous (agreement); no to hurting someone else (agreement again); and no to kissing a girl (cheers).

I am not exactly sure how we went from the explanation to active play but we did. And in that first Friday night game of Truth or Dare, I confessed my adoration for chocolate over candy, ran 20 laps around the living room while nearly exploding with laughter and confirmed, with relief, that our children are still a safe distance from developing kiddie crushes. Both boys bailed out by the time we dared them to down some broccoli, but I realized that this game might have a place at our table in the years ahead. Would Shabbos Truth or Dare with willing parents provide the perfect forum for honest discussion with a balancing dose of fun?

I assumed it would be quite some time before we got to the deep questions that parents both hope and hate for the their children to ask. But I was wrong.

“Mommy. What do you love more? Your kids or Shabbos?” asked the six-year-old last Shabbos.

Once we tucked them into bed, I thought more about the question and how I might have answered. If I’d told them I loved them more than Shabbos, would they one day hold that against me in the face of a future mini religious rebellion? And how could a mother say she loves anything more than her children? A day? A moment repeated each week? No, it would be impossible to tell a child that he was not more beloved than all things in the world, right?

Yet keeping the Sabbath is on G-d’s Top Ten list and an intentional violation merited death by skilah (stoning), back in the day. I had just finished reading the third in the Rashi’s Daughter’s trilogy, an easy and enjoyable read punctuated by little things like the First Crusade, during which mothers stabbed their children rather than letting them fall prey to Christianity. Was my son asking whether I loved Hashem more than my children? Whether I would forsake one for the other? Surely not, but, in a way …wasn’t he?

On the other hand, (intended nod to Tevye) could I tell my children I love them more than all things? More than the Sabbath that Hashem commanded us to keep? More than the Creator who blessed us with these same children to cherish and love? And isn’t it a little bit true? Don’t I love Shabbos because of the time it avails me with my children, love it because of them and not actually independently from them?

So while at first I thought I had stumbled upon a game that would offer moments of absolute truth to my children, I see there will be questions that we as parents will not answer. But maybe it is the asking that matters more.

And so now, on Friday nights, along with sharing divrei Torah from the weekly parsha and granting one shining moment for each and every tree-killing school project completed that week, together as a family, we face the truth.
I dare you to try this at home.

Ilya Welfeld, stops to cherish the chaos, writing about balancing work, life and religion for The Jewish Star.