What is a parent to do when his/her day-school-educated college student says that he’s giving up his grant, postponing graduate school, and moving to Berkeley to study Sanskrit?

In finding the answer to this question, I got a big lesson in what it means to be a parent and how to communicate when I (a native Midwesterner) visited my son in Berkeley, California.

I k’velled when David graduated with honors in Hebrew and Near Eastern Studies from the University of Wisconsin-Madison. His dream was to go to grad school in California. So when he was offered a grant at Berkeley, he packed his backpack.

But when David shaved his head, became a vegetarian and stopped wearing leather shoes, I knew a challenging road lay ahead. I knew that David would not have a 9-5 job. As a child, he’d been highly gifted and a brilliant student. He was headed toward a Ph.D., but now I wondered about his likelihood of getting a job with a degree in Sanskrit and advanced meditation?

So I went to Berkeley to spend time with David and try to understand where he was coming from. I remembered that when I was 20, I, too, set out on my quest for the meaning of life. But I wound up singing Shabbat songs and eating cholent with Lubavitchers in Crown Heights, not chanting mantras and eating brown rice with Buddhist monks in Berkeley.

I took action and traveled to Berkeley with my husband. We checked into a small hotel on Durant Street, a few blocks from the University.

Berkeley seems to be stuck in a 60’s time warp. Only in Berkeley do you find a mutual funds executive who makes more money selling “medicinal magnetic” products than selling annuities. This was Purim, and it seems that every day is Purim in Berkeley. One cannot tell who’s in costume and who’s wearing everyday attire.

I felt it was a major accomplishment that my son agreed to attend the Megillah reading, – a step in the right direction. It had been so many years since he attended a shul.

My husband and I spent Shabbat with an exceptionally dedicated and innovative rabbi, one would have to be to succeed there. Rabbi Yehudah Ferris and his wife Miriam (with nine children) operate a small Chabad House on the main drag.

Unfortunately, my son didn’t make it to shul. After the services, we walked to the Rabbi’s home, where about 30 students and young professionals gathered. After Kiddush, Rabbi Ferris asked each guest at the table to introduce him or herself.

The young man sitting next to me wore a baseball cap that read “Lucasfilm.” I asked him if he was employed at the famous movie studio. I dropped my matza ball in my soup when he nonchalantly told me he was part of the staff designing the new Star War movies that describe the childhood and adolescence of Darth Vader. He explained the plot of the films: Darth Vader had been a young Jedi knight on a quest, searching for truth and justice throughout the galaxy.

How the Star War themes paralleled life’s passages! Everyone around the table was on a quest-searching for spirituality and meaning in life. But unlike Darth Vader, they were lucky enough to bump into Rabbi Ferris.

At his big Shabbat table, Rabbi Ferris told his guests: “In Berkeley, we say, ‘Speak to your inner child.’” And he continued to explain the meaning of Purim and the Torah portion, relating it to every person. But still no sign of my son who was supposed to meet us for dinner. Rabbi Ferris told us: “Bombard the child with love. Try to recognize that the core of every Jew is Divine. Be patient and consistent and always accentuate the positive. The child will eventually respond and reciprocate.”

Shabbat ended and we called David. He’d had two emergencies: a plumbing disaster and an allergy attack. But he was fine now. We picked him up and went to hear the Megillah. After the Megillah reading, Rabbi Ferris played his guitar, sang songs, and asked my son to sing along. I was amazed as he joined in, clapping and singing along with the Purim celebrants.

After a pinyata, hamantashen, and a costume contest, we drove David back to his apartment.

The next day, my son took me to Chinatown in San Francisco. On the bus there, he tried to explain where “he was coming from.” He told me he was working to improve himself, seeking wisdom and compassion in Buddhism.

I tried to explain that Judaism has all these components: davening, middot, and mitzvot to improve the world. Tikkun Olam. But many young people don’t know what Judaism has to offer. As a result, a highly disproportionate amount of Jews practice Buddhism today.

As author Roger Kamenetz writes in “The Jew In the Lotus,” (Harper Collins Publishers, 1994) “ It is a great loss that these gifted Jews are lost to Buddhism. Since fewer than five percent of American Jews define themselves religiously, Jewish Buddhists represent an abnormally large percentage of a precious pool of energetic, talented and spiritually committed Jews.”

Seeing my son, I agreed wholeheartedly.

As a native Milwaukeean, Buddhism is as unfamiliar to me as compassion is to Darth Vader. My son explained that Buddhists are seeking wisdom and compassion through meditation. I tried to understand what it was that appealed to David about Buddhism so I could show him that Judaism had all that and much more. But that realization would have to come from David, not from me.

After four days, it was time to say goodbye. I kissed David and felt a great weight lift from my heart. I had communicated with him. I had succeeded in keeping the channels open. I had listened to him, and he had listened to me.

So nu, what now? I would like to tell you that he’s coming home for the Seder. But no, he won't be coming home for Pesach this year.

I don’t tell him that I cry every holidav for the lost little boy who knew the Four Questions at three years old, and won the school mishnah contest at eleven years old.

But he would visit in a few months and we would talk on the phone every week.

So, if your kid is “in a galaxy far, far away,” don’t give up. Go visit. Bring along a Gan Israel T-shirt, an Avraham Fried CD, and some hamentashen. Show that you care. Try to rekindle a spark. But most of all, you must have faith. And it wouldn't hurt to find a caring rabbi like Rabbi Ferris along the way.

Deborah Wicentowski resides in Milwaukee with her husband, Jerry and their four sons. She is the editor The Jewish Community News.