What Motivates Them?

One of my teachers at TI, women’s division of Hebrew Theological College, a distinguished rabbi and a grandfather, had mused that he would like to find out what motivates Gentiles.  What do they think and feel, what drives them in life?  He confessed that he never had much contact with them, except for occasional hello to the neighbors and people in customer service.  In his long life he never had a Gentile friend or a co-worker that he would seriously talk to.  He’s met quite a few secular non-observant Jews, but he has not had any meaningful human relationship with Gentiles.

My first reaction was a mild shock; I never thought of this as a possibility.  I often envied people who worked for Jewish institutions – they can observe Shabbat and all Jewish holidays without any awkwardness about taking time off, they don’t have to explain why they don’t don a Halloween costume or decorate a pine tree in winter, or find excuses to skip the holiday party, or explain why despite the casual dress code they still prefer to wear a decent length skirt.  I never thought someone may have a complete gap about the huge majority of people in the world who are not members of our tribe.  Then I realized that it may well apply to most of my neighbors and friends, including my own children.  They don’t know the people that I spend majority of my waking time with!

Yesterday I spent a few hours volunteering at the Open Books, a small non-profit that occupies a few cozy rooms next to the bookstore in Chicago’s trendy Near North neighborhood.  The organization runs creative writing workshops for children from the inner city public schools.  On the day when I volunteered a yellow bus brought fifth-graders from the northwest side of the city.  There were about 30 kids in the room, a teacher and a few volunteers, called writing coaches, mostly college grads from my work who kindly signed up to keep me company. 

There were seven kids at my table, four girls and three boys, all with Spanish names, but speaking English without an accent.  The topic of the workshop was setting –a place and time where the story takes place – and its influence on the story, how it affects the moods and feelings of the characters and the plot of the story.  As a way of the warm-up we all had to introduce ourselves, including the coaches – state your name, favorite book, and what are you planning to wear for Halloween. 

I was never into that particular holiday, and the Jewish day schools that my children attended strongly discouraged participation.  However, listening to the children gathered in the brightly colored room, I felt differently.  They were not knocking on my door obnoxiously asking for candy.  They were telling their dreams.   Their eyes shined when they described their costumes, some of them hand-made and in progress, when they spoke about the fictional characters they’ll pretend to be on that day of dress-up and merry confusion.  They did not know about the origins and the history of the holiday, the associated Anti-Semitism, the pogroms and massacres that happened on that day.  They just dreamed of stepping out of their everyday existence and for one day a year being a Superman, or a Ninja, someone special.  They hoped to be noticed, to get attention, boosted by another image added to their personality. 

As a writing coach my job was to help kids at my table complete exercises, give them some pointers and maybe some seed ideas, but mostly give them encouragement and approval.  They had to describe a strange building on a laminated card, imagine what it could be and who could possibly live there.  One answer to a flying-saucer shaped building with a car parked under it was of a bunch of aliens pretending to be a regular family and trying to fit in – aren’t we all like that?  My table got a building that looked like a giant book-shelf, and kids imagined it to be a library, a museum, a theater, or a big hotel where book characters stayed when someone in the city was reading a particular book. 

Then they had to write a story about their favorite place.  For some it was a room at home, for some school playground or a library, and for some a fantasy place in their imagination.  They were looking at me with big eyes as they entrusted a complete stranger with their dreams, seeking notice and approval.  What motivates them, what drives their lives? Same as everyone, quest for love and friendship, comfort and security, and sometimes, in their dreams, seeking perfection.