Lessons we can learn from Harry and Meghan

Take the strictly Orthodox community. How many of their sons and daughters are similarly born into a life whose course has been largely prescribed for them, from the type of person they are to marry, the kind of work they are allowed to do  —  if at all — and the clothes they can wear?

Their actions are watched closely by their neighbours, their rabbis and their families, and they are smacked down swiftly if they fall out of line.

Harry has apparently succeeded in leaving, and so have many Charedim— but not easily. The weight of their family and community’s expectations weighs heavily on them, too — with suggestions that they might want a different life deemed a complete betrayal of their values and of their very essence.

Many keep doubts secret even from their spouse, because those who do manage to tear themselves away are often effectively excommunicated, and routinely have their children taken away (sometimes with the collusion of secular courts).

It requires enormous bravery to be cut off from all you once held dear and everything that once defined you. Harry is not so unique.

But even among more modern Jews, young people can struggle to deviate significantly from the religious path set out by their parents. They know that their families may very well react with disappointment, hurt and even shame.

At least nowadays we no longer sit shivah for kids who marry out of the faith.

So what can we learn from HRH? First, when even the crown’s “spare” can opt out, there is no such thing any more as a destiny which you are born into and locked into for life.

For centuries, Jews had no possibility of abandoning their Jewish identity except by the extreme step of conversion.

The open society and modernity changed that, except that the penny hasn’t dropped in all sections of the community, who still believe that there is an imperative to belong. In reality, it is possible to drop out of even the most extreme Jewish frameworks.

Second, if we want to keep our children in the fold we need to give them compelling, positive reasons to do so — and not simply assume that they will fall into line.

Harry opted out for complex reasons, but at root, he did not find the roles assigned to him personally fulfilling or rewarding. His family threw him a few crumbs, but lazily seemed to think that duty would prevail. It didn’t.

All too often in the Jewish community, we emphasise ritual, expectations and duty. But do we give people enough inspiration, enough spirituality, enough meaning to compel them to stay? I know too many people who on the surface lead observant lives but are just going through the motions, to believe the answer is “yes”.

And do we truly hear people who tell us that they want to find meaning in different places, and different ways to ours? So often it is discouraged. I think in particular of women looking for more religious fulfilment within their communities, who have been threatened, blocked, and sometimes literally told to “leave if you don’t like it”. They often do.

Finally, there is no doubt that the Queen was in anguish, and most likely very angry at her grandson — and yet she belatedly found a way to accommodate his wishes, and issued a conciliatory message.

Particularly on the frummer side of the Jewish map, “rebels” are often treated as pariahs and family relationships are broken forever.

We can learn from the Queen about how to treat community and family members who are determined to break away, even when the “betrayal” seems insurmountable — with sensitivity and love, putting personal relationships first and always, always leaving the door open for a return one day.