Fun With Play-Dough

Six-year-old Isabella attends Parsha class once a week, so she’s prepared for whatever the weekly Torah portion will be on Saturday.  This is not an easy thing, considering that most adults have a difficult time studying Torah (me, for instance). However, she likes it, and she’s enthusiastic about it; if it really were too hard for her, she’d rebel immediately; she’s good at that.

When the teacher tries to explain Yom Kippur and the meaning of saying you’re sorry, she tells the kids: “Sometimes, people do bad things.”  All kids immediately pay attention; “bad things”, they know all about that. They start yelling examples of very, very bad things; then, my daughter’s hand shoots up: she knows a bad thing too and is eager to share.

 “Yes, Isabella?” the teacher says.

“Like believing in Jesus!”

Oops.

We’ve taught our daughter not to make fun of other kids; they may look different, talk different, have funny last names or a really ugly backpack, and on certain days they may smell a little weird. But making fun of others is perhaps the meanest thing of all, and it’s just not allowed.

Apparently, the lesson didn’t include religious tolerance, but who worries about that when you have a six-year-old? We’re focused on teaching her her own religion and that’s a big enough job; and how does she even know this Jesus? Now what?

I take the coward’s way out and let it slide; frankly, I don’t even know where to begin. Am I remiss when I think she’s too young for this topic?

It’s not as if the concepts of “good” and “bad” are easily explained to begin with; I think they’re right up there with the discussion about where babies come from, and exactly why it is not a good idea to talk to strangers.  On the surface, it seems so easy; when you listen to your parents, that’s good; when you throw your food on the ground because you despise spinach, that’s bad. But the deeper meaning of these terms? Forget it.

What my daughter retains from the day’s lesson becomes clear when she leaves me a letter that night. Apparently, she has been thinking about this bad behavior business on a more personal level after all, because this is what she writes:

Dear Mom, I hate getting in trubal with you. I bet you do to. Love, Isa.

Which almost sounds like an apology. And she didn’t even get in trouble with me today.