Family values

They make an odd pair: the world's strangest pop star and a rabbi who once outraged the Jewish community with a book called Kosher Sex. But now the two have joined forces to tell us how to get closer to our children. Can they be serious, asks Hadley Freeman

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Shmuley Boteach and Michael Jackson
Shmuley Boteach and Michael Jackson

Parenting, they say, is the new rock'n'roll, and next week we will be treated to some improbable evidence for the claim. On Tuesday night Michael Jackson will appear before a packed Oxford Union to discuss his newest project: a charity aimed at "bringing parents closer to their children". The following evening the entertainer and philanthropist will appear at a star-studded tribute show at the Hammersmith Apollo in London, proceeds from which will go to the charity, Heal the Kids.

If the idea of a man once very publicly accused of abusing a teenage boy launching himself as an authority on parenting seems bewildering, the aims of Jackson's new charity remain distinctly hazy. According to a brief statement on his fan club website, "the aim of Heal the Kids is to encourage adults to reprioritise children, trusting that, by bringing our children from the periphery of our attention to the centre of our daily consciousness, we can imbue them with the love and devotion which they so badly need and break the cycle of neglect."

The statement elaborates briefly that "Major studies show that children who experience no tactility, no tenderness or hugging in their formative years, bear emotional scars that will not heal later in life. However, parents nowadays have often been replaced by television, computers, and home video games."

The charity is not short of heavyweight backing. Among its listed board members are former Israeli prime minister Shimon Peres, Nobel laureate Elie Wiesel, and Denise Rich, the Democrat socialite at the centre of the Clinton cash-for-pardons row. No one knows precisely how Jackson plans to pursue his lofty goal of re-enthusing the world's parents about their progeny, but we know that he is very serious about it: despite breaking his foot in a fall at his Neverland ranch this week he insisted he would honour his Oxford engagement. "The message of Heal the Kids is far too important to me to allow a broken foot to keep me from this commitment," he declared.

Jackson's partner in parental proselytising is Shmuley Boteach, the rabbi best known for writing a bestselling book encouraging Jews to have more sex. He and Jackson decided to launch Heal the Kids after being introduced in September by their mutual friend, Uri Geller. ("Uri said, 'I think you'll really like Michael Jackson, I got to get the two of you together,' and I said, 'Well, if you're twisting my arm!' Ha ha ha!")

The deliciously improbable troika will be getting together on Wednesday when Geller renews his wedding vows in a traditional Jewish ceremony at which Jackson will be best man. Boteach concedes that the trio may seem unlikely, but says: "We do have a lot of common characteristics. Michael started work when he was five, Uri was a big celebrity in his early 20s, and me, I was a rabbi at Oxford at the age of 21. Also, we got a lot in common in that we're all misunderstood."

First, however, there is the small business of promoting Boteach and Geller's latest joint venture, a book with the unsurpassably bargain-basket-friendly title of Confessions of a Rabbi and a Psychic. In the best tradition of the epistolary novel, it consists of a series of letters between Boteach and Geller as they help each other to come to terms with Personal Growth and What it's All About ("Did you feel your dog's warm breath and cold nose against you that day?" the Rabbi asks his friend, "... Perhaps you tapped into a higher reality.")

We meet in his hotel room in Piccadilly, London. He is running a little late as he is having difficulties with his caterers. He is younger and shorter than one would expect, and his American twang booms off the marble walls. Five copies of his and Geller's book rest tidily above the minibar.

Rabbi Boteach was very much the golden boy of rabbinical society at Oxford. However, after the publication of Kosher Sex - and its serialisation in Playboy - he was publicly reproached by the president of the United Synagogues and was forced to resign from the synagogue in Willesden where he preached. On top of all this, L'Chaim, a Jewish society at Oxford University of which Boteach was president, was embroiled in controversy when it was reported in the national press that some of the funds from donors had gone towards Boteach's second home in London ("This is a totally normal process in the United States," he insists. "And why should I have to pay for another home?")

Since then, he has moved back to the US with his wife and seven children and is writing books with Geller and Jackson. Once the great young hope of the Jewish community, he now seems to be banished to his bizarre celebrity sub-sect. Unlike many friends of celebrities, Boteach is absolutely delighted to talk about "my friend, Michael Jackson". "When he's in New York, we see each other or talk on the phone almost every day," he says, reclining in his armchair. "We go to kosher restaurants together, we go shopping for our kids' clothes together, sometimes after hours..." The Boteach family recently stayed at Jackson's ranch to celebrate Jackson's birthday. They had cake and everyone wore little paper hats. The two men have written a book about how to rediscover your inner child. It will be published in December.

"Michael really is a very traditional guy," he barks. "He lived at home until he was 27 years old because he had the traditional belief that you live at home until you're married, which is cool! I like people with traditional values. His daughter has gorgeous little dresses, his son is dressed like a real little gentleman. It's just beautiful, I tell you." And what are their names? "Prince and Paris," he replies hurriedly, taking another puff on a fat cigar.

Jackson is not an obvious candidate to become a parenting authority. His two children - born by a dermatology nurse from whom he is now divorced - are cared for by a battalion of more than a dozen nurses. Then there was the small matter of the 13-year-old boy who claimed in 1993 to have been sexually abused by the singer - only for his parents to drop the charges after allegedly receiving a payment of $26m (£18.5m) from Jackson. Boteach, however, is dismissive of suggestions that his new friend's relationships with children have been anything other than wholesome.

"Why would anyone believe those charges?" He answers his own question before I can try: "For two reasons: Michael settled. He fought the case for four months, but then his lawyers said, 'Forget it, man, you don't have a chance.' He had no choice. Two, they said anyone who spends that amount of time with kids has to be sick. Well, that's not an indictment of Michael Jackson, that's an indictment of our society!"

British parenting groups and experts have so far been decidely guarded about Jackson and Boteach's new venture. "You couldn't say that the aims are anything other than laudable," says Barry Mason, director of the Institute of Family Therapy, "but I don't notice any mention of any ethical guidelines, which is absolutely vital for any organisation working with children. If you're working with children and if you're promoting ideas about working with children you must be seen to have clear ethical guidelines. One of the most important things for this kind of organisation is to establish your credibility, and that depends on your record in the past. For any organisation that is setting itself up, it needs to convince people that it is credible."

Boteach, meanwhile, is confident that the public perception of Jackson will not be an impediment to their new venture. "And anyway, look at how public perception changes - just look at Bill Clinton!" The rabbi gives equally short shrift to cynical suggestions that his collaboration with Jackson is only the latest of a long line of publicity-courting stunts. "No. No. Well, sure, publicity is nice, and at first Michael Jackson was like this big pop star, but now we're just intimate friends. No one knew of our friendship for six months. And anyway," he says smiling, taking the cigar out of his mouth. "I've got plenty of other celebrity friends."

• Additional reporting by Esther Addley.

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Related articles
22.02.2001: Jacko bans TV from Oxford Union address
Pass notes: Shmuley Boteach
05.09.2001: Sex guru rabbi gets passed over

Useful links
Michael Jackson's Heal the kids page
Oxford Union
Shmuley Boteach's Jewish Telegraph column