Making the Right Choice

by Charlotte Savage

Moving into Peabody in the 1960’s was very exciting for me. Instead of living in an all Jewish neighborhood in Malden, we would be moving into a development where we would be living among people of all religions as well as different ethnic backgrounds.

On one side of us lived a delightful fun loving Irish family. Margie Kelley and I had become bosom friends from day one. On the other side was an Italian family, in back were Greek and French. Most of us had left our siblings and parents behind in the cities in which we grew up. Now we depended on neighbors to help. At one time or another, we took turns assisting with baby sitting, shopping and emergencies. It was a wonderful place to bring up a family. There were no fences in our yards and the children played on each others gym sets, and baseball was their sport. The women swapped recipes, sharing the makings of lasagna, spaghetti sauce, French Quiche, kugel, knishes and mundel bread. We also learned about our many different customs.

My son Barry, at a young age, thought he would become a Rabbi. However, right after we moved into Peabody the Orthodox Hebrew School closed. Researching the two new Temple religious schools, soon to open in our area, I decided my son would attend a Reform Temple because it put emphasis on learning the history of our religion rather than becoming fluent in Hebrew. Here, in the United States, in the 1960’s, reading from the Torah was the only time the Hebrew language was used. Of more importance to me was that not only did this Temple school teach Jewish history but it also taught classes in comparative religions. It was important to me that my son have knowledge and respect for all religions.

 One semester, in Temple, when Barry was twelve, while studying the Catholic faith he came home with questions about Catholicism that I could not answer. However, one of his closest friends, Glen, attended St. Adelaide’s church, a Catholic church which was at the foot of our development. I suggested that my son go to church with Glen the following Sunday; after Mass he could approach the priest and have a discussion.

Barry left for church in time for 9 a.m. Mass. At 10:30 the telephone rang; a familiar female voice shouted, “Mother of God, Charlotte Savage, do you know where your son Barry is?” It was Margie Kelley and she sounded very upset.

“I think I know where he is, Margie, but why don’t you tell me.”

   “There I was, a good Catholic woman, attending church on Sunday morning as I do every week, when I looked across the aisle who do I see sitting there big as life but your Barry! He was attending Mass! I nearly fell off my pew, I was that shocked. Charlotte, what, may I ask, is a nice Jewish boy, who plans on being a Rabbi, doing attending Mass?”

 “Barry is studying the Catholic religion in our religious school and he had questions about your religion I couldn’t answer. I felt he would get a better explanation from your priest than from his teacher at the Temple. It appears she didn‘t have a clue how to answer him. Did Barry break any rules? Shouldn’t I have sent him to observe and learn?”

 Margie gave a huge sigh of relief and responded. “No, no rules were broken, but I nearly had a heart attack! All I could think was--Barry Savage if your mother only knew what you are doing! I was about to pull him out of church by his ears and that’s the truth-- but my husband wouldn’t let me.” Finally, Margie calmed down and soon we were both laughing--especially after her final statement.

“Well, Charlotte, it all makes sense to me now. Nevertheless, don’t be surprised if you get a visit from our priest. He probably thinks he has a new convert in the making.” Actually, that didn’t happen but I know Barry went back a couple of times when he had more questions.

The following year Barry reached the age of thirteen, he became a Bar Mitzvah in the synagogue my grandfather had established in Malden. It was his choice to be tutored by the orthodox Rabbi. To become a Bar Mitzvah meant that Barry would now be considered an adult, capable of leading a congregation in prayer, if for any reason there wasn’t a Rabbi present. Barry invited his friend Glen to attend the service along with some of his Temple friends.

When the Torah is taken out of the ark, it is considered a huge honor for a congregant to be asked to carry the Torah up and down the aisles in a house of worship accompanied by the Rabbi, the Bar Mitzvah boy and his relatives.   When the Rabbi told my son Barry to choose his best friend to carry the sacred scroll, Barry gave the honor to his friend Glen, the only Catholic boy in attendance.

It was only then that I knew I had made the right choice of which religious school my son should attend.

ã Charlotte Savage 2015 all rights reserved.