Basya Tsybukmakher
An interview with Mrs. Miriam Lifshitz, daughter of Rabbi Tzvi and Rebbetzin Yehudit Kaplan (may the memory of the righteous be a blessing)
The Kaplans are one of the few families who merited returning to the traditions of their ancestors while still in the Soviet Union and began observing the Torah's commandments. After arriving in Israel, they continued to follow the ways of the Creator and to grow spiritually.
When we arrived in Israel, I was six and a half years old. My parents had begun observing the commandments earlier, about three and a half years before that.
So you were already growing up in a religious family. How did your parents explain the commandments to you children?
I had a very happy childhood. The holidays—each one better than the last! Every time, there was something special and unusual. For example, I remember that once, on Tu BiShvat (the New Year of the Trees), they set up a floor lamp as tall as a person and hung various nuts and fruits on it, wrapped in pretty foil. Each child would come up and pick one of the “fruits for which the Land of Israel is renowned” (wheat, barley, grapes, pomegranates, figs, dates, olives). On Sukkot, my mother hung little stars from the ceiling of the sukkah; on Purim, we put on a Purim spiel—a theatrical performance—and on Hanukkah, we even held large evening gatherings for the Jews of Riga, attended by as many as one hundred and twenty people. I also remember coloring the invitations. And how they brought in an enormous sack of potatoes and made latkes—pancakes—for everyone…
Now that I have children of my own at the age I was then, I think about how hard it must have been for my parents! As a child, I felt none of the strain or difficulties, only how much fun and how wonderful everything was!
At some point, when my parents became more careful about observing kashrut, we stopped eating store-bought bread. My mother baked challahs for Shabbat, and we would finish them over the course of the week.
I remember the delicious desserts at our Shabbat meals... My parents were vegetarians (they had become vegetarians many years before returning to Jewish tradition), so the choice was limited, yet my mother still managed to make very tasty dishes. When they began observing the commandments, they gradually started preparing fish as well, and here in Israel, meat too, but very little at a time. For example, at first we had chicken only on Passover, and it was only several years later that we had it on Shabbat. As it turned out, neither I nor any of my younger brothers and sisters have ever eaten nonkosher food.
So everything connected with Judaism seemed joyful and fun to me. It bothered me that I could not draw on Shabbat (I have always loved drawing, and now I do it professionally), but apart from that, everything was good.
How did your parents answer the children's questions about Jewish faith?
We would ask, and they would tell us what they knew; they themselves were only just beginning to learn. For example, one Shabbat we went to the playground and rode on the merry-go-round. At some point, my father said that perhaps we were not allowed to spin too fast on Shabbat. In Riga, my parents had no books to study from, almost no sources at all. Of course, when we moved here and joined a religious community, we began catching up. I do not remember my parents teaching us as though we were in school. Everything was very natural.
One of the most powerful ways to educate children is through personal example. Were there any incidents that stayed with you and became examples to follow?
I remember that my mother placed great importance on prayer. She always prayed Shacharit and Minchah, no matter how busy she was. This is by no means something to take for granted—my mother always had so much to do. I remember how often, at sunset, she would suddenly remember: “Oh, Minchah!”
My mother was very hardworking; she always worked hard. She was also a very creative person, doing everything with interest and joy, in a way that made it interesting and enjoyable for us too.
I learned that from her. She was constantly learning. Although she did not know Hebrew very well, she read serious Torah commentaries: Malbim, Gur Aryeh… She was interested! I learn more and more from her example and continue to receive so much from her now, when she is no longer here…
Until now, it was as though I were a little girl, and now I am approaching adulthood. Two things happened at once: my mother passed away, and my children grew older, reaching an age when the challenges of raising them become more complex, and I am learning more and more from her… For example, from her joy: doing everything so that it is memorable and interesting, so that the children have positive experiences and spiritual inspiration.
Did all of this happen on its own, naturally?
Of course! But as I grew older, I noticed that she worked on it and thought about it. She always said that we should try to make sure our children's best childhood memories come from home, rather than “the street.” I remember that we always had an old table and plastic chairs in our living room, and I would say to my parents, “Let's buy some nice furniture!” But instead of spending money on furniture, we went on vacation every year.
For example, once our whole family went to Gamla and hiked in the mountains for seven hours; we went to Safed, went horseback riding… And although this happened only about once a year, it was so vivid and unforgettable! Experiences like that stay with children for life.
My mother also had a special personal connection with each child: in a sense, she was not only a mother, but also a friend.
She found a unique “thread” to connect with each child. For example, one of my brothers loved studying and was a true talmid chacham, and he was always sharing interesting commentaries with her—he would find them especially for her. One of my sisters, as a teenager, was very interested in appearance and aesthetics, and my mother would go with her to buy clothes, cosmetics, and so on. My mother deliberately sought these special ways of connecting with each child; it did not happen on its own. Once—not so long ago, when she was already ill (perhaps without knowing it herself yet)—she took my youngest brother to the zoo, just the two of them. On an ordinary day, not a holiday… Of course, things like that did not happen often, but they left vivid and powerful memories.
How did your parents react when you children misbehaved?
My mother never reacted immediately. This is a very unusual approach, and it must have required a great deal of inner strength.
Only after some time had passed would she begin a conversation about what had happened. My father was also lenient with us and forgave even things that, when I remember them now, make me wonder how he could have done so. Whenever material damage was involved, he would say, “It's all right!”
Once I lost a large sum of money; another time I damaged a one-of-a-kind camera… and all he said was that it was a great pity, and that was it. Only much later did I learn from my mother that he had been very angry at the time. Of course, there were times when they became irritated or angry about something, but afterward my mother always discussed it with us.
Were there any matters of principle that your parents took more seriously?
Deception and lying. In other respects, they were very flexible, and much changed depending on the circumstances. For example, when we first arrived, our parents required all the children to be home by six in the evening. After a while, they saw that this was unworkable and set different boundaries. They also taught us to be responsible. But in general, a great deal depended on the situation. For example, one of my sisters loved being out and about and could stay out for hours—our parents required her to come home at a strictly set time. For a time, one of my brothers spoke in an inappropriate, insolent way, and they responded accordingly.
What did your mother pay the most attention to, and what did she put particular effort into at home?
As far as the house itself was concerned, she bought various little things, even inexpensive ones, simply to make everything beautiful and pleasing to the eye.
All the children attended various extracurricular classes—incidentally, my mother invested quite a bit of money in these, even during the hardest times. I remember how, in Ofakim (when I was about ten), I counted and recounted small copper coins to have enough for a tub of cottage cheese for supper. But of course, even then I went to drawing classes, because I loved it so much!
In general, there were times when money was tight and we went without many things. I felt it, and I think it does a great deal to build a person's character.
Now I deliberately make sure that my children sometimes feel they lack something; I want them to learn to cope with the fact that they will not always get everything they want in life.
Tell us about respect within the family.
One of the clearest examples of what a Jewish family should be like was the tremendous respect my mother showed my father. It was extraordinary.
At Shabbat meals, no one began eating before my father. Sometimes we had to wait quite a while—there were always guests—as he sliced the challah, sometimes for about fifteen people, took a bite, and said “Mmm!” to show how delicious it was, while everyone sat waiting. Then he was served first, and the same principle applied to everything. And of course, my father also treated my mother with great respect and took her opinion very seriously.
Our parents did not demand special displays of respect from us; they were more like friends. More precisely, they managed to find the right balance, being both parents and friends to us. Once I wrote something to my mother that, when my brothers saw it, they said was simply insolent. In fact, it was my response to something we had discussed earlier, and I had written to her as a friend. My mother was so happy that she hung the letter on the wall.
Our parents also never quarreled in front of us. Of course, there were times when they disagreed about something or discussed something with agitation, but there were no quarrels.
When we grew older and began expressing our own views, our parents treated our opinions with great respect. They were willing to listen and accept what we had to say, and sometimes they even consulted us about raising the younger children. I even felt a little like a mother to them myself.
As for my younger brother—the one born immediately after me—my mother valued every word he said! When she died, I felt that I had lost not only my mother, but also a close friend.
How did your parents respond to quarrels between the children?
I remember that my younger brother (mentioned above) and I were good friends, but we also quarreled constantly. Once, after yet another quarrel, my mother said, completely calmly, “If you argue all the time, perhaps you would be better off apart?” She put us in separate rooms and said we could play and do whatever we wanted, but we could not come out. We both began to cry, but she would not give in. We began sending each other notes and presents… This may have lasted about an hour, but it felt like an eternity to me.
I also remember that when Mom asked me to help—for example, to sweep—and I said, “I don't want to,” she would reply, “Then don't; I'll sweep it myself!” And then I would come running: “No, let me!” That was when I was little. When I grew older and there were already many little ones, Mom needed much more help, and “no” was not an acceptable answer. If the dishes need washing now, we wash the dishes, no nonsense! Even if it isn't the most pleasant activity in the world, it has to be done!
To conclude, try to identify what the “main family approach” to raising children was.
First: our family put into practice the principle expressed in Proverbs: “Train a child according to his way.” There were eight of us, four brothers and four sisters; all the brothers attended different yeshivas, and the sisters attended different seminaries, each in the place that suited them best. There was no “well-trodden path”; each had their own path, and our parents tried to develop each child's individual abilities and natural inclinations.
I was already old enough to see how this was put into practice with my younger brothers and sisters, how much thought our parents gave it, and how they searched for what suited each child.
How much emotional energy they invested in this—they took nothing for granted! And how respectfully they treated each child as an individual, rather than simply as “my child”! I see how many children and teenagers have their lives shattered precisely because their parents try to squeeze everyone into the same mold.
For example: “In our family, all the girls go to such-and-such a school…” But what if that particular school does not suit this particular girl? No, she is sent to the same school as her sisters, and she cannot find her place there…
I think that for our generation, raising children in accordance with their natural inclinations is vitally important.
Second: Mom always made a great effort to encourage us to be open with her and to build a personal connection with us. A child opens up only when there is a close relationship, and that does not happen on its own. We had heart-to-heart conversations with her—not often, perhaps once a month, but we would talk for two or three hours. After I got married, we visited my parents for Shabbat fairly rarely, but when we did, we could talk all night.
Another important point my husband noted: “She always had a million things to do, but when she spoke with you, you felt that she was one hundred percent there with you.” Even my younger sister's husband, who had known Mom for only a few months, said after her death that hardly anyone else in the family would appreciate and respect him as she had—except perhaps his wife… This really is remarkable: Mom truly had very little free time, she was always very busy, and she was not always home to listen to us—but when she spoke with someone, she made that person feel that she was completely there with them and ready to listen for as long as they needed.
From the book “On Raising Children in the Jewish Tradition”