The Road To Survival
SAMUEL HEILMAN
SPECIAL TO THE JEWISH NEWS
ecently my wife and I went
through the tough decision of
buying a new car. We last went
through what for us, as for most
Americans, is the second largest
purchase (after their home) in
life 10 years ago. We have four
children, and most cars sold
these days are oriented to
smaller families. But size wasn't
our only concern. Even more
important were cost and safe-
uW. ty.
Finally, our choice came
down to two vehicles. Both were
large enough, but one has ad-
ditional safety features. This
car, a Volvo, was a model we al-
ready owned, and we trusted it
to serve us in the future.
But the Volvo was much
more expensive than the other
choice. For weeks, we agonized
over the decision. Where would
the extra money come from?
Did we really need these extra
features? Could our scarce re-
sources be better used for oth-
er needs?
At last, my wife made what
was the key contribution to our
decision. We put all that was
precious to us into that car: our
children, those we care about,
our future. Should we, could we,
skimp on protecting them? The
answer was obvious. Although
the choice pressed us financial-
ly, we bought the car.
I've been thinking about this
decision a lot recently as I pay
my other big bills. In a way, my
car considerations parallel an-
other decision we've also made
about survival and preserving
our future. This second decision
deals not with physical survival,
but with cultural and spiritu-
al survival, with my children's
and my Jewish future. It con-
fronts me with the same ques-
tions I considered before buying
the car: Where will the extra
money come from? Do we real-
ly need these extra features?
Could our scarce resources be
better used for other needs?
This decision concerned the
sort of Jewish education to pro-
vide our children. Unlike car
buying, this is a choice I make
anew each year, not one in 10.
And each year, it's no easier to
make. The options are clear. I
could take the route of most
American Jews and provide my
children with no Jewish educa-
tion. (After all, of 859,000 chil-
dren under the age of 18 in the
core Jewish population, only
400,000 were in the Jewish ed-
ucational system at the end of
the 1980s.) This was certainly
the least expensive approach
since it would let me use the
fine public schools in my sub-
urb, while saving for the college
education I want my children
to have.
Very tempting, but surely a
choice that would jeopardize the
Jewish future. For with no Jew-
ish education, my children are
far more likely than not to dis-
appear into the great American
society, so open and so attrac-
tive and so far from what is dis-
tinctively Jewish. No Jewish
survival there.
Alternately, I could select
what appeals to most of those
who opt for Jewish education in
America: a supplementary af-
ternoon school, probably one
that meets once or twice a week,
with a teacher who knows
something, but not a great deal
about Judaism and with stu-
dents who neither understand
why they must get this educa-
tion nor care to receive it.
Although still the single
largest Jewish educational re-
source for Americans, supple-
mentary schools (which now
have about 270,000 students
and serve about 60 percent of
the Jewish school population)
are a fairly painless choice.
Their classes are often small,
the time demands minimal and
the curriculum limited.
Yet, this choice also does not
assure Jewish survival. It offers
some safety features, but not
enough to withstand the major
crush of American life.
Indeed, as several re-
searchers have noted, supple-
mentary Jewish education,
unless accompanied by en-
hanced Jewish activity in the
family and correlated involve-
ment in synagogue, summer
camp and some level of Jewish
ritual participation, turns out
to be of little protective or ped-
agogic value. It's like the car I
didn't select.
That left me with full-time
intensive Jewish education: day
schools, the choice of about one-
third of those in the Jewish ed-
ucational system. But day
school education is enormously
expensive, like my Volvo. Prices
range from about $3,500 per
student to over $10,000 de-
pending on community location.
It would require a huge com-
mitment since I have four chil-
dren. Could I afford it?
The answer, as with my car,
was: Could I afford not to make
this choice? We chose the day
school, believing that in spite of
its extra cost, this kind of in-
tensive education is what would
best preserve my children's
Jewishness.
Would I regret the extra
money I spent on giving them
the fullest possible exposure to
— and understanding of—Ju-
daism? Or would I save the
money now — and later be like
so many who tell me they wish
they'd given their children a bet-
ter understanding of Jewish
heritage so their children might
not have eventually abandoned
their Jewish identity?
So I have spent more for a
safe car — and more for Jew-
ish education, both of which I
trust will preserve my Jewish
children. It might not work. My
Volvo is not indestructible; it
could be a lemon. There are
wild drivers around and slip-
pery roads.
Likewise, day school educa-
tion does not guarantee my chil-
dren will not intermarry or that
they will always remain com-
mitted to Judaism and their
Jewish identity. But I am ready
to take that extra measure,
even if it places a burden on me.
Still, when the end of the
month and bill-paying time ar-
rives, I cannot help but wish
that safe cars were less expen-
sive (as they should be) and that
good Jewish education was
within the reach of everyone (as
it should be). While day schools
and yeshivas now have more
students than ever (about
130,000), their rising costs have
made many of them sink under
the weight of their own success.
We should not have to break
the bank to save ourselves and
our people. ❑
Samuel Heilman is a professor of
Jewish studies and sociology
at the Graduate Center of the
City University of New York.