Category Archives: Drama

I watched this film at a time when the US is in the midst of a major debate over its immigration program. One side views immigrants who came here illegally as potentially dangerous and argues for tighter border controls. The other side sees illegal immigrants as a positive force in the US who make important contributions to America and who simply want a better life for themselves and their children.

I have no political opinion on this very complex matter, but watching First They Killed My Father gave me a better understanding of the plight of refugee children who are caught in the crossfire of larger political currents. First They Killed My Father is a harrowing account, from a child’s perspective, of what it means to be compelled to leave your normal, comfortable family life and suddenly become a poor person seeking safety and basic human needs such as food and clothing.

The story takes place in 1975 in Cambodia, a “neutral” country geographically close to Vietnam, which is at war with the United States. When the country is taken over by the Khmer Rouge, Loung Ung’s family is at grave risk because her father served as a senior military official in the Cambodian government. He represents an ideology diametrically opposed to the fanatical communist ideology of the Khmer Rouge, who during their period of ascendency killed almost two million Cambodians by execution, starvation and forced labor.

Loung, together with her siblings, is placed in a forced labor camp and her parents are eventually separated from her. Outwardly, she learns how to be a child soldier and conforms to the rules of the camp, but inwardly she yearns to escape the oppressive soldiers and guards who are watching her constantly. It is a frightful experience for her and her entire family as we observe Loung , barely seven years old, trying to make sense of the incomprehensible happenings around her.

Jewish law and tradition emphasizes the importance of welcoming the stranger, the refugee in our midst, who has no protector. Nechama Leibowitz, a Biblical scholar, notes that the command to welcome the stranger appears in the Torah 36 times. We are frequently to remember how it felt when we were strangers in a foreign land.

Moreover, the Bible teaches us that all human beings are created in the image of God. Everyone possesses part of the Divine within and everyone has infinite potential. Rabbi Yitzchak Greenberg, a modern Orthodox thinker and educator, says that when we recognize these qualities within man, especially in a refugee population to whom we extend a helping hand, we are sanctifying God’s name.

Moses wanted to immortalize this national characteristic of helping the stranger and so he names his son Gershom, which comes from the Hebrew word for stranger, ger. The history of Moses’s people is bound up in understanding that Jews grew up as “strangers in a strange land.” Furthermore, The Ethics of the Fathers importunes us to look beyond the self: “If I am only for myself, what am I?”

Given the reality today that unrestricted entry in the United States has implications for the safety and security of our citizens, and welcoming the stranger is not so simple as it was many years ago, we still are bidden by our faith to aid the stranger whenever we can without endangering our own lives. When it is clear that the newcomer poses no threat to us, we must help. The child refugees depicted in First They Killed My Father represent that population that requires our aid without hesitation or restriction.

Everyone my age remembers where they were when we heard the news that President Kennedy was shot and killed. I was in Mt. Vernon, New York, driving in the center of the town with my mother. The radio program to which we were listening abruptly stopped and they announced the president’s death. All the cars, including mine, halted. No one could move. My mother began crying. No one ever imagined such a tragedy happening. That fateful day and the days following are portrayed in Jackie, a thoughtful and eerie film that imagines the tragedy through the eyes and emotions of Jackie, the first lady.

The film begins with Jackie Kennedy being interviewed by a journalist a week after the assassination in late November, 1963. During the conversation, there are flashbacks to memorable moments of the Kennedy presidency, with particular focus on Jackie’s role as first lady. Her television tour of the White House, which attracted an audience of 56 million viewers, is one important highlight that reveals the public and private sides of Jackie. She is a person who does not like to be in the spotlight, but she understands her role as the president’s wife and does her best to enhance her husband’s image in the media.

The film eventually recreates the assassination in Dallas, and the scene brought back painful memories as I watched. It was the first time I experienced a sense of loss. Even though John Kennedy was not a relative, he was a father figure to many Americans, and his untimely death was embedded on our collective memory.

The tragedy prompts Jackie to think about presidents who died while in office, but she focuses on Lincoln who is remembered with great love and affection. She reads books on his funeral, which included a march through Washington, D.C., and wants to replicate the processional for her husband’s funeral. Moreover, she wants his burial plot to be at Arlington National Cemetery, a resting place befitting an American hero, rather than in the family plot.

To get through this difficult time, Jackie speaks to a priest to try to gain some understanding of God’s ways. He reminds her: “There comes a time in man’s search for meaning when one realizes that there are no answers. And when you come to that horrible, unavoidable realization, you accept it or you kill yourself. Or you simply stop searching… I have lived a blessed life. And yet every night, when I climb into bed, turn off the lights, and stare in to the dark, I wonder… Is this all there is? But then, when morning comes, we all wake up and make a pot of coffee.” It seems a simple response, but indeed it is a profound message for Jackie. We cannot understand God’s ways, but we need to endure in spite of pain and disappointment.

The priest’s words reveal a Jewish sensibility. After a relative dies, Jewish law requires shiva, a seven-day period of intense mourning in which one stays at home and is consoled by family and friends. At the end of the seven days, it is a custom to take a short walk around the block to remind ourselves that life goes on in the wake of tragedy. The memory of the loved one remains, but we continue with life.

Lori Palatnik, a Jewish educator, writes: “The concrete act of physically stepping outside, walking around the block, and coming back in, says that this house and our relationship with this house will now be renewed.” We do not remain mired in tragedy. Life beckons.

The movie affirms this notion as it concludes with the song “Camelot,” the optimistic lyrics of which personified for many the Kennedy presidency. Jackie’s struggle to come to terms with loss is palpable, but in the end she moves beyond the pain to a new life with her children, family, and friends.

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When I was in fourth grade in elementary school, I encountered long division. Until then I never had a problem with mathematics, but I had a rude awakening. I had trouble mastering it, and my inability to attain instant success in the subject forever prejudiced my attitude towards math, so much so that when I entered college I chose my major field of study based upon the major not requiring any math courses. I realized as I went through high school that I had no gift for mathematics.

The Man Who Knew Infinity is about Srinivasa Ramanujan, a man who has a gift for mathematics. The year is 1910. Born in poverty in a small town in India, he works at a number of menial jobs. His boss notices that he is good at math and enlists his aid in the accounting section of his business. Soon his employer, college educated himself, discovers that Ramanujan has more than simple mathematical skills and encourages him to apply to Trinity College in Cambridge where he can receive the mentoring to further develop his mathematical abilities.

Ramanujan takes his suggestion and begins writing to university professors of mathematics. G.H. Hardy, an eminent mathematics professor, invites him to come to Cambridge.

Coming to Cambridge presents challenges to Ramanujan. He has to leave his young wife and attend a college in a country whose cultural landscape is much different from India. Moreover, he has to confront an establishment of theoretical mathematicians who are reluctant to accept Ramanujan into their elite circle of scholars. They view him as an outsider, a foreign and intuitive genius who cannot conform to the rigors of classic theoretical mathematics. While they recognize the originality of his work, they don’t see his intuitive approach to mathematics as worthy of study. It is too spontaneous for their taste.

Under G. H. Hardy’s influence and mentoring, Ramanujan eventually publishes one of his theories in a major journal. But this is only the beginning of an arduous process towards obtaining Ramanujan a fellowship at the college. It is a journey that is both tragic and inspirational.

Although my secular field of study is not mathematics but literature, I connected with the depiction of G.H. Hardy’s supportive mentoring role in Ramanujan’s academic journey. When I was a doctoral student at Georgia State University, I had a full-time job, a devoted wife, and a family of six children. Given those personal responsibilities, it was difficult for me to pass all of my doctoral examinations and the university suggested that I leave the program.

I was blessed to have a supportive mentor, Dr. William Sessions, who believed in me and encouraged me to persevere. As a result, the doctoral program that I began in 1972 finally reached a happy conclusion in 1984. The five-year program took me twelve years to complete. Mentors can truly make a difference.

The Ethics of the Fathers, a classic of Jewish wisdom literature, encourages us “to make for yourself a mentor.” One of the Sages points out that this means one must look for people who can guide you and give you an objective perspective on important matters of life. The person should not simply tell you what to do; rather he should encourage you to think for yourself and work through a challenging situation. Moreover, the mentor can support you and give you confidence during tough times, enabling you to persevere in the face of adversity. Having a mentor means you are not alone on the battlefield.

Ramanujan is not alone is his quest for excellence in theoretical mathematics. G. H. Hardy is by his side. Together, they make mathematical history. The Man Who Knew Infinity reminds us that mentorship can change the course of a person’s life and ultimately bring him professional success no matter what the obstacles.

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