By Rabbi Shimon Posner – Chabad of Rancho Mirage, California

Both of my Zaides were Temimim in Lubavitch ShebeLubavitch; my two Bubbes were from similar backgrounds. All came to America in the Twenties and lived here for the next sixty or so years. For whatever reason, none of them ever got a driver’s license. Both my parents drove, my wife and I do as well and so do our children.  Why my grandparents never did, I do not know.

Nothing quite captured the robust, effervescent American culture like the car. The station wagon illustrated the American dream more quintessentially than Norman Rockwell ever could and the automobile defined American geography and economy: giving rise to singularly American post-war concepts: the suburbs, sprawl, parking lots, highways and shopping malls. Tinkering on your car or washing it became a de rigueur Sunday afternoon pastime.

My father never worked on his car, and if not for the rise of the automatic car wash, his cars and mine would never have gotten cleaned. It’s safe to say that we drive, but we don’t reflect the wider culture’s focus on car ownership; it’s simply the best way to get from Point A to Point B.

This precedent helps me as reality shifts.  In the Seventies, security for my father’s shul meant putting the key to the front door under the doormat. It sounds quaint now. Back then, gun ownership was largely the affair of a small, somewhat obscure, ill-defined segment of the population, not for the average suburbanite, both within the Jewish community and beyond.  And that too now seems quaint.

There is scarcely a Jewish institution in the country — or in the world for that matter — that doesn’t maintain a secure perimeter. And the same way that car ownership requires not just comparing insurance policies and registering for the annual tags, but also bringing it in for an oil change and knowing what to tell the mechanic beyond “it’s making funny noises”, security means we need to become familiar with, and somewhat proficient in, firearms to become responsible gun owners.

These are not decisions that my grandparents or parents made and there is an inevitable tension between the needs of self-protection and the beckoning of manly sport. It is incumbent upon us to address this because, one way or another, a psychological shift needs to occur before we make enduring changes.

Why did my father never get “into” his cars?  Why don’t my children “fall in love” with their wheels? Part of the reason is that they are focused on why the Almighty breathed a soul into their body and they wake up every morning intent on not losing that goal. But left to our own devices, could we as Chasidim easily fall into such indulgence? Absolutely. We need to be on guard against cars becoming the status symbol millions of advertising dollars purport them to be. But that doesn’t mean we should take the bus instead.

Magen Am and COSEM, two organizations promoting self-security for Jews and Jewish communities, recently cohosted a training course for Shluchim. Magen Am’s mission statement advocates protecting Jewish communities so they can focus on raising happy, informed Jews. Remaining true to that mission statement is a tall order. Target practice is fun and fun carries the risk of excess and the proclivity to indulgence. As do cars. As does eating.

Am I joining NRA? One thing is clearer to me now than it was before: both the pro-Second Amendment and the pro-gun-control factions have little training in responsible gun ownership and handling, and that needs to change before politics plays out.

But what about us, the Kol Yakov with a healthy wariness of yidei eisav, how do we make sure we don’t get all into target practice at the expense of losing our sights?  How do we remain more focused on how we carry ourselves, rather than simply how we carry? How do we steer clear of political pitfalls and ideological hubris?

Magen Am’s line helps – if you work it. For me, the video of the Rebbe speaking to a man from Israel helps.  The Rebbe was so uncharacteristically sharp and heated in this conversation that, before YouTube and WhatsApp videos, I went to a neighbor’s house to watch it on their video screen.

The Rebbe is saying to him, “There are tens of thousands of Jewish children in Israel who are not being taught aleph bais al taharas hakodesh, and who is putting their small finger in cold water about it!?!”

VIDEO: From minute 14:15

I wouldn’t say I have my passions of the palate under control.  Seeing me, you might attest to that. Yet I also don’t have two cars on cinderblocks in the driveway for Sunday afternoon tinkering.

I think my grandparents would approve of the shifts taking place as a necessity ad bias goel tzedek. I’m even more sure my parents would. I’d give the world for their advice on navigating these new waters….

Until then, security will join driving as things requiring vigilant, proactive training and attention.  The real question is, am I putting my little finger into cold water for chinuch al taharas hakodesh?