By Donald H. Harrison

SAN DIEGO—It has been quite a few years since I had a conversation about television with Dr. Michael Mantell, who writes a perceptive column about psychology for the San Diego Jewish Times. He had agreed to take a position as a local television commentator discussing  interesting psychological topics. He asked me, as a longtime journalist, if I had any thoughts about the venture upon which he was embarking.

I told him that I imagined that over time he would face increasing pressure to be more sensational, or "edgy," to bolster his station's standings in the fierce war for ratings. Eventually, I said, he will come to a line that he will not feel comfortable crossing because that which makes entertaining television does not necessarily make for good psychology or for good ethics.  But in the meantime, said I, enjoy the ride.

That's what happened. Mantell commented on an a variety of topics, and then, as now, he was quite learned.  I thought he made a wonderful contribution to local television, helping to elevate its tone.  Of course, the conflict eventually came, and Mantell gracefully retired from the scene, his dignity and professional reputation intact. "You were right," he later told me.

I recalled the incident last night as I watched the premiere on The Learning Channel of Shalom in the House, a new program in which Rabbi Shmuley Boteach, the same fellow who wrote Kosher Sex, takes us inside his practice as a marriage and family counselor. Boteach looks like a Chabad rabbi in colorful plaid, and his methods are decidedly unorthodox.

In the first episode, he goes to the home of the Riveras, an Hispanic family in which a mother is raising three daughters and a son alone after divorcing her husband because of his adultery.  All members of the family, including the errant father, agree to be on the show—the amount of their remuneration not disclosed—and to allow "Rabbi Shmuley" to counsel them.

The rabbi parked a large motor home in front of their home in a residential neighborhood. The rig serves as his office, spy center, and sleeping quarters. Cameras are rigged in the common areas of the Rivera home such as the kitchen, hallways, and living room and videos of the family's interactions are made. It is not a pretty scene.  The children, ranging in age from 7 to 16 fight with each other, using both cuss words and physical violence.  The oldest daughter has her boyfriend, with whom she had been sexually active, to the house without her mother's permission.  Clearly the rabbi's work is cut out for him.

What differentiates this program from other fare on television that simply exploits people's troubles to appeal to the voyeurism of the television audience?  In my opinion, the program has two redeeming characteristics.  First, Boteach does indeed try to help calm the troubled waters—rather than to stir them up.  Second, and this may be the most important contribution, he explains to the viewers how he analyzes the situation and the rationale for the various techniques he employs.  In this manner, it lives up to the mission of The "Learning" Channel.

The rabbi invites both the mother and father into the trailer to show them videos of the way the children are fighting with each other. The parents are embarrassed to hear their teenage daughters using locker room speech. The rabbi explains that the girls are acting "tough" in imitation of their mother's attitude since the divorce.  He points out to her that she has been "afraid of being soft, because you were hurt."  The girls need an example of softness in their lives, he tells the mother.  They need a mother to explain to them that if they must fight, there is a humane way to fight and a barbaric way to fight.

Turning to the father, the rabbi asked bluntly if he think it okay for his daughter to be having sex at age 16?  The father does not like the idea.  The rabbi, who has eight children of his own, says that at age 16 girls need reassurance from a father, they need to be told that they are beautiful people.  If a father is not around to provide that male approval, a girl may seek it elsewhere.

Having shown the parents the effects on their children of their divorce, he asks them if they would like to try picking up the pieces.  Reluctantly, they express a willingness to try.  The rabbi tells  the audience that their reluctance stems from neither of them wanting to be hurt again.  So he brings the parents and children together in some confidence-building exercises. First they go to a basketball court.  They are asked to choose up sides, mom's team versus dad's team in a 5-point game.  The family is quite competitive.  Next, the rabbi puts the parents on the same team against the four kids.  Obviously in this situation, the parents are forced to work together.   And, seemingly despite themselves, they are laughing and enjoying each other.  The children are pleased to see mom and dad together as a team.

But there is more work to be done.  The rabbi tells theolder daughter that the videotape reveals that her boyfriend yells at her when they are together, and that because of his yelling, she thinks the problem is her fault, not his.  "Are you respecting yourself? he asks her.  She acknowledges that she is not, and begins to cry.  The rabbi tells the father that it is his responsibility to set the rules for the boy—to tell him that no one yells at his daughter.  And furthermore, if he really wants to make his family whole again, it's time for him "to get rid of the (other) woman now and do the right thing."  The husband agrees.  

Next, the rabbi has the family work together on a project to clean up the basement of the house—so that it can be used as an extra bedroom.  The father, the mother, and the children all work hard.  The rabbi comments how much the father loves his family, that he is willing to work so hard to fix up a home he no longer lives in. Through an earpiece, he whispers a suggestion to the husband to go upstairs and get a drink of water for his hard-working wife.  And through her earpiece, he reminds her to thank him.  Since the adultery, their communication has been so blocked, even simple gestures like these have to be relearned.

The program ends with an epilogue: two months later the mother and father are "dating" each other, and working together as parents on family problems.  The prospects for family reunification seem good.

Shalom Bayit, peace in the house—what a wonderful service to be rendering. It is a universal need, as was illustrated by having the rabbi counsel a non-Jewish couple. Except for a wisecrack that the rabbi made on the basketball court—to the effect that "short Jews don't dunk"—there were few references to "Shmuley's" Judaism. But, of course, there were many visual clues; his kippah, his beard,  his "Shalomobile."  

This is a quirky program, I decided, but it is off to a good start.  However, as I once cautioned Dr. Mantell, I also caution the rabbi. The television industry in the midst of rating wars is not going to care very much about who you are or what you stand for.  They answer to a lower authority.