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This week I attended a Jewish event here in NYC, and during the keynote I found myself sitting next to a young man who simply could not put his phone down. At first I tried to ignore it, but eventually my curiosity got the better of me.

I glanced over and realized he was texting “Mom”. His messages said things like, “I'm here. Please stop pushing me to date a Jewish girl. Please stop forcing Jewish community down my throat. I'm trying my best to stay connected.”

I am not a stalker/nosy type, but with his phone being on the table mere centimeters from me, I could not stop looking.

A few minutes later, his phone rang. It was “Mom”. Assuming he would ignore it, I looked back toward the speaker. Instead, he answered, held the phone up so his mother could hear the keynote for a few seconds, and then hung up. This happened several times.

During a break I finally blurted out: “Why do you keep answering your mom's calls just to hang up?”

He smiled and said, “She doesn't believe I'm actually here at a Jewish event. I just want her to know I'm not lying.”

I laughed. I love Jewish mothers! I love how deeply they care and how determined they are to keep their children connected to the Jewish community. That kind of love is one of our people's greatest strengths.

As I walked out of that evening’s event not having paid attention to literally anything the speaker said, I thought about the problem: Parents can encourage, inspire, even push, but only to a point. Ultimately, every young Jew adult reaches a moment when they have to decide for themselves what role Judaism and Jewish community will play in their lives.

We think about this every day at the Jewish Grad Organization (JGO). We can't force anyone to attend the many events we offer a year to grad students and alumni (980 this year!). Nor would we want to! Our job is to create warm, meaningful, welcoming opportunities that make Jewish life so compelling that our students want to come back and continue being involved with Jewish life after they finish grad school. We open the door, but they have to choose to walk through it.

That young man reminded me of something hopeful; despite his kvetching about his mother pushing him too hard, at least he showed up! In the end, that wasn't his mother's decision, it was his. Maybe.

And perhaps that's how Jewish continuity has always worked? Parents plant the seeds, communities create opportunities, but ultimately each generation chooses whether to embrace them.

Warmly

Dave