Paul Simon revisited

A few weeks ago, my shul seatmate brought his 11-year-old daughter with him to Shabbat minyan. I asked her whether she was Maccabee’s daughter, and when she said yes, I added: “You probably think your father’s pretty old, right?” While her smiling eyes answered “yes,” it was clear that she took the Fifth Commandment seriously, so she waited a few beats, hoping I wouldn’t press. I didn’t. Rather, I told her: “Well, even if you do think he’s old, you should know he’s one of my young friends.”

And he’s not alone. Recently, I’ve developed, both accidentally and intentionally, a group of young friends. (Definition break: In this column, young, being a relative term, means about the age of my older kids, or younger.)

It started when our shul rebuilt its sanctuary, and we had to choose new seats. (Yes, I know the shul doesn’t officially have fixed seats, but that’s a rule more often honored in the breach.) Since I didn’t want to disappoint my late father, who was careful not to talk during davening, and since my willpower isn’t a close match to what his was, I decided to choose an area populated by strangers, a younger crowd I didn’t know. That way, I thought, there would be no one to talk to. And that’s when I learned that you never sit in shul among strangers for long; very quickly those strangers become friends. And so, together with some shul talking, Sharon and I suddenly started receiving invitations to brisses and bar/bat mitzvahs of the children of young friends in addition to those of grandchildren and great-grandchildren of old (in both senses of the word) friends.

These new friends brought another benefit, allowing me to see the world through the eyes of thoughtful, smart, Jewishly involved people of a different generation. What issues and problems concern them? Are they the same ones that Sharon and I grappled with when we were raising our children, or new ones? And if new, what do they think of our youthful issues; gratitude that we solved them (I wish), annoyance that we did not (more likely), or puzzlement that we were concerned with them at all?

But if friends one generation down are special, it got even better. One Shabbat I started chatting with the older son of one of my young friends and discovered that we shared interests in baseball, law (he was in the process of moving from teaching to law school), current events, Bryan Garner, and, importantly, George Carlin. And while there is some distance between us on the liberal-conservative political spectrum, that often spices up our conversations. He certainly keeps me on my toes, and I like to think I give as good as I get. (You’d have to ask him what he thinks.)

There’s also a Jewish geography angle (see my recent “A Serious Game”) to this friendship. My 13-year-old granddaughter Aviva, who had been chosen to participate in Tikvah’s Truman Scholars program, told me about a terrific class she took analyzing Orwell’s “Animal Farm.” I idly asked her the name of her teacher, and after getting past the expected “he’s a young guy, you don’t know him,” she told me his name. “That’s my friend Dovid,” I replied, knowing immediately that notwithstanding his somewhat generic Jewish name, it had to be one and the same. And she finally believed me when I participated in a Zoom class open to parents (Sharon and I were the only grandparents), and Dovid greeted me warmly before we sparred gently during the discussion.

Don’t get the wrong idea, though; it’s not just men. I first connected with my young friend Sharon when she referred several times to my first published article, “An Orthodox Simchat Bat,” in her book, “A Jewish Ceremony for Newborn Girls.” Our friendship then solidified over our mutual love of Davar (may it have a refu’ah shelema), and an arduous job search with, thankfully, a successful result. Too successful, perhaps, since her now very busy schedule has made our previously periodic lunches much more difficult to schedule.

But some of my new connections were quite intentional on my part. As I’ve noted previously, I’ve been privileged over the years to know, and have personal relationships with, many important Modern Orthodox rabbis, scholars, and educators of my and the previous generation. I hasten to note that this arose mainly from family or Far Rockaway affiliations, educational or employment experiences, childhood or congregational connections — or simply luck — rather than anything special about me.

But what about up-and-coming leaders, those who will serve as role models for and teach and inspire my children and grandchildren? I therefore made a deliberate, and somewhat successful, effort to get to know and establish relationships with some of them as well. (Second definition break: In the following paragraphs and the previous one, I’m stretching the definition of friend to include not only more typical friends but also those who respond to, rather than automatically delete, an email or text from me or who once took my telephone calls and answered my letters.)

Several of these new “friends” include the chair of the Talmud department at Yeshivat Chovevei Torah; a master teacher of Tanach; the Jewish Museum’s Judaica curator; two tenured professors at Yeshiva University (of Sephardi studies and Bible and Second Temple literature); a nationally recognized leading expert in church-state legal issues; the director of the Lamm Heritage Archives; the founding director of Makom B’Siach at SAR; an up-and-coming congregational rabbi and author; AMIT’s chief of staff; and a research associate at the Institute for Advanced Study at Princeton (who was actually given the physical office once occupied by Albert Einstein). (Two notes: (a) for each, I selected just one of the many professional activities in which they are involved; (b) the names and details of all these inspiring leaders are hyperlinked in the Times of Israel digital version of this column.)

And then there’s Rabbi Steven Rhode Gotlib, the 29-year-old associate rabbi at Philadelphia’s Mekor Habracha/Center City Synagogue and director of the Center City Beit Midrash. He’s also a prolific writer of articles and book reviews, including a very recent one of my “A Passionate Writing Life.”

Steve opens his review with the following description of our relationship.

“Lest anyone suggest that social media is incapable of facilitating relationships, I have yet to meet Joseph Kaplan in person but have shared many productive and valuable conversations with him over the past year and a half or so.” He then notes what he describes as a “surreal experience”: that I devoted a column in the book to a description of my personal, active interaction with the 57-year-old columns I wrote for my college newspaper when they became a focus of the college thesis of Benjamin Koslowe, the newspaper’s then editor-in-chief, who interviewed me about them. It turns out that Benjy is Steve’s good friend, and authored an article in the paper that Steve responded to with a letter to the editor.

While this is yet another sweet example of Jewish geography, it’s the next sentence that truly resonated with me. “[The Benjy Koslow connection is] a small coincidence, but one that makes this feel, in some way, like a conversation between generations as opposed to a traditional review of mine. In some ways, I hope this essay is taken more as a letter from a young … aspiring writer to someone with far greater experience than myself.”

Bingo. That’s how I often feel with my young friends; we speak across generations. Thus, an essential part of our intergenerational relationships, one that makes them different from the many enduring friendships I have that date back decades, is that each of us is learning something that can be imparted only by someone whose experiences are, by definition, different. And how so very special that is.

I concluded my book by noting that I cannot expect my readers to “agree with all, or even many, of my opinions. I do hope, however, that they enjoyed taking this journey with me.” Steve concluded his perhaps overly generous review by quoting my conclusion and noting: “I not only enjoyed the journey and agreed with many opinions, but also found what I can only describe as personal inspiration in his writing.”

What I trust Steve realizes, though, is how I – in making new young friends, talking to them, and listening to their ideas and opinions – am constantly inspired by the fact that there is a younger generation that is following in the footsteps of those who preceded them and who inspired me; a younger generation that, standing on the shoulders of these giants, is taking on leadership roles that will benefit both our narrow community and our broader world.

Inspiring indeed.

Joseph C. Kaplan, a retired lawyer, longtime Teaneck resident, and regular columnist for the Jewish Standard and the New Jersey Jewish News, is the author of “A Passionate Writing Life: From ‘In my Opinion’ to ‘I’ve Been Thinking’” (available at Teaneck’s Judaica House). He and his wife, Sharon, have been blessed with four wonderful daughters and five delicious grandchildren.

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