-My younger son, Caleb, was working on a special report for school the other day. The assignment involved transforming the biography of a real person into an animal tale - in this case, President George W. Bush became Pigsident Boarsh.
Not the most kosher of assignments, but that's one of the joys of public school.
Caleb dictated the draft report into a digital recorder, and I transcribed it for him later. One portion of the report dealt with poor Pigsident Boarsh's unpopularity around the world, with one notable exception: Israel.
"Boarsh's popularity was highest in Israel," my 8-year-old said. "Don't write this down, but hooray, Israel!"
Hooray, Israel.
My wife and I won't win any parenting awards, but at least we've accomplished this much: We've conveyed to our children an appreciation of Israel as Americans and a love of Israel as Jews.
I share this proud moment not to boast about my kids - their bubbe has the exclusive rights in that area - but because it seems relevant in light of a new book from David Mamet, The Wicked Son.
It's the sixth book in the Jewish Encounters series from Schocken and Nextbook, and it's quite a departure from the first five, which are biographies.
Mamet's book, subtitled Anti-Semitism, Self-Hatred, and the Jews, is a 180-page psychobiographical essay on no particular person but a type all too common in the Jewish community. They're the Noam Chomsky Jews, the people who explain their religion by saying, "Well, my parents were Jewish," the intellectuals who love to criticize Israel and champion the poor Palestinians in their quest for a nation of their own.
Never mind that the Palestinians elected Hamas, which is sworn to destroy Israel and kill the Jews.
Never mind that the Palestinians used the excuse of one Jew, Ariel Sharon, walking on the Temple Mount to justify terrorist attacks that killed more than 1,000 Israeli men, women and children.
Never mind that Iran, Syria, Hezbollah, etc., also are dedicated to our destruction.
Never mind that we Jews are still subject to attack in Europe and much of the rest of the world.
For the self-loathing Jews who are Mamet's subject, Israel's existence is a crime, and any response to that crime anywhere in the world is justified.
For the Wicked Son, the only good Jew truly is a dead Jew. Thus, Anne Frank is heroic; the survivors who helped found Israel are scum.
Mamet's book is not an easy read. The playwright and filmmaker doesn't pull any punches, writing, "I believe we should be frank: The world hates the Jews. The world has always and will continue to do so."
But others' hatred we can handle, even if we don't understand it. The hatred of our own is more corrosive, more frustrating, more inconceivable.
Mamet exposes the folly of the Wicked Son, a turncoat who can never earn acceptance outside the Jewish community he has rejected. He is eternally re-enacting Korach's rebellion, the sin of the golden calf, the sin of the spies who snuck into the Promised Land and trembled at the giants they found.
Those anti-Israel Jews, Mamet argues, are lost, fleeing the only thing that can save them and give them comfort, Judaism. What they need most is what they fear most, steady synagogue attendance and exposure to the Torah.
The Wicked Son is an intense experience, but it's well worth the effort. Even if you're raising the kind of good son who spontaneously says, "Hooray, Israel!"
Michael Jacobs can be reached at a href="mailto:mjacobs@atljewishtimes.com">mjacobs@atljewishtimes.com.
