– May I tell you a story?
– Please…
– For generations, the men of my family have been rabbis in Israel before that in Europe, it was to be my calling. I was quite a prodigy. I was the "pride" of my Yeshiva. The elders said I had a forty year old understanding of the Midrash. By the time I was twelve by the time I was thirteen I knew I could never be a rabbi.
– Why not?
– Because for all I understood of the "Talmud", I never saw God there...
– You couldn't lie to yourself.
– I tried. Tried like crazy. I mean, people were counting on me.
– You have a respectable profession.
– Not to my family my parents were devastated, destroyed by my decision my father sent me away to New York to live with distant cousins I eventually found my place, my life's work…
– What then?
– I amerced myself fully, I studied everything I could about the law I felt deeply inside that it was what I was born to do.
– Did your parents get over it?
– No, I always hoped that I would find some way to change their mind, but they were inconsolable, my father never spoke to me again.
– If you had it to do all over again, knowing what would happen, would you make the same choice?..
– What choice?... The last thing I took away from the yeshiva is this... We can't run from who we are. Our destiny chooses us.
A wise son heareth his father's instruction: but a scorner heareth not rebuke.
A child's dream is their parents' dream!
It is impossible to say that mom is afraid or loves her father. It's so similar.
To lose one parent, Mr. Worthing... may be regarded as a misfortune. To lose both looks like carelessness.