"So. You have finally decided to accept my invitation," said David Malter, gesturing for his guest to come in. "Sit down."
"I would prefer to stand," Reb Saunders said, but accepted the invitation and seated himself in an old armchair with a faded floral pattern. David Malter handed him a cup of tea and took the chair directly opposite him.
Reb Saunders looked his host in the eye. His gaze was fierce and would have caused most people to flinch, but David Malter stared patiently back. "Why have you brought me here?" Reb Saunders asked.
"I am surprised we have not done this before. I thought we should talk. Our sons are very close, and their influence on each other has changed their lives. It has changed ours too. Yet we have barely spoken a word to each other, though there is much to say."
"Yes," Reb Saunders agreed. "There is much to say." There was an uncomfortable silence while both fathers struggled to find words to describe those taxing years when so much had changed for their families and for the Jewish people. At last Reb Saunders spoke, smiling sadly
"Ironic, isn't it? That your son, the great mathematician, should choose to become a Rabbi while my son chose to ignore his calling to Judaism and pursue Psychology."
"Do you really think that that was truly Danny's calling?" David Malter asked quietly. Reb Saunders gave him a pained expression, but continued speaking as though he had not heard.
"I love my son and have given him my blessing in whatever he chooses to do. There is nothing I wish more for him than happiness. But there are times when I wish I had been firmer in advising him to follow his calling to become a tzaddik.
"Conversely, I sometimes wish I had been less harsh with him. I worked so hard to ensure that my son had a soul, though it was very painful for me. Oh, you cannot imagine the pain, when you willfully estrange yourself from your own son. I was successful in that Daniel did indeed acquire a soul, yet he still strayed from the path that was set for him. I sometimes fear that his rebellious nature is the result of my method. Perhaps if I had followed my own technique a little less strictly, if I had been a little less silent…" His voice trailed off. Normally such an imposing figure, Reb Saunders now looked like any father who was concerned about his son.
"Your son has been more influenced by you than you may think. You taught him to be sympathetic to the trials of others. That is precisely the job of a Psychologist, though Danny's work is not limited to the Jewish people. You also taught him to look within himself for answers. This is an admirable trait in any field; in addition it has made Danny independent and able to understand his own troubles so that he can take on others' troubles without it being too much of a burden to him. You have prepared him admirably for his career, though it is not the one that you intended."
"There are times when I feel that my son resents me."
David Malter thought for a moment. "Perhaps, in a small way, he does. But he also admires you, and he has come to respect and understand why you chose to raise him that way. He has told me that he may choose to raise his own son in silence, if there is no other way."
Reb Saunders still seemed distraught. "Although I have broken the silence between us, we are still distant. I am proud of Daniel's intellect, but if he were less brilliant perhaps I would not have needed the silence to reach his soul." Reb Saunders was silent for a moment. "Something was lost in those years of Daniel's childhood that can never be recovered. I must admit that I am somewhat envious of your relationship with Reuven. He has both a fine soul and a fine mind, yet there was never any silence between you. I suppose I sometimes wonder if I could not have raised my son in a different way, while still guiding him towards a Hasidic way of life."
David Malter did not speak for a minute. He knew that Reb Saunders was a proud man and that it must have been very difficult for him to say what he had just said. When at last he did speak, he chose his words very carefully and spoke in a contained manner.
"I decided," said David Malter slowly, "that silence was not the way to raise my son. Had Danny been my child, I would have raised him the same way I raised Reuven. But," he continued, pausing at the 'but' for emphasis, "Danny is not my son, and you raised him as you saw fit. Danny has grown into a fine and compassionate young man. Reuven and Danny are two entirely different people, so you can in no way assume that the effect one rearing technique had on one would have been the same for the other. Reuven has always been very sure of himself, in his desires and beliefs. It was therefore necessary for me to teach him to be open to other ways of life, and our discussions taught us both a lot about the other's point of view. Danny was less confident, less sure of his identity, so your job was quite the opposite. Instead of teaching him to open up to others, you needed to teach him to trust himself. Through the silence, he learned to look to his own intuition for answers. Danny has now formed himself as an individual who knows what he wants. He is a sensitive boy with a passion for learning. You should be proud that your guidance has helped him to become this person. I am glad that Reuven had the chance to be influenced by Danny. He has a fine soul."
"Reuven influenced Daniel as well. Although I do not agree with some of my son's decisions, I believe that your son was a great help in guiding him in areas where I could not. Tell your son," said Reb Saunders as he rose to leave. "Tell your son thank you. For being my son's friend." The stern man's face wore an odd expression that it had not worn in many years. He was attempting to smile.