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A parenting guide for the perplexed By Rabbi Y.Y. Rubinstein
Since last month, when I had to find an assisted-living facility
for my eighty-six-year-old mother, that joke doesn't seem so
funny anymore.
I love my mum. Perhaps because I am an only child I am especially
close to her. And there are so many memories that I can
retrieve so very easily, of her holding my hand when we visited the
dentist or drying away tears when I was hurt or scared. And now,
when I take her for walks, she has to hold my hand, and she's as
vulnerable and reliant on me as I was on her all those years ago.
Our Sages point out that the tablets that Moses brought
down from Mt. Sinai had the Ten Commandments split into two
distinct categories (Mechilta, Exodus 20:13). On the first side were
our obligations to the Almighty — don't have other gods, don't take His
Name in vain, etc. The second five deal with people's relationships
and their obligations to each other — don't steal, don't kill, don't
commit adultery. It is among the first five, among those commandments,
where you find "Honor your father and your mother."
It's on the wrong side, in the wrong column!
Our sages say the reason it appears there is because ultimately the
one who put you with those two human beings — your mother
and father — was none other than the Almighty.
He
matched you to them and, just as importantly, them to you.
When a young wife first informs her husband of the most exciting
piece of news he will ever hear, that he is going to become a
father, he is elated. The young couple can look forward to months
of anticipation and planning, from the name they are going to
give this new child to what sort of stroller would be the best. One
thing that is not likely to change in any significant way is their
personalities. Who they were before the news of the new arrival
was confirmed is who they'll be after the baby is delivered.
Both as individuals and as a couple, they possess many strengths.
They have been born with character traits that make them shine:
kindness, perhaps, generosity, and many others, too. And, like
every other human being, there will also be deficiencies in those
same personalities and characters. They may be a little selfish or
insecure; they may be indecisive or angry. The combination of factors
and traits that made them who they were before the baby was
born will be identical after their baby is born. Parenthood does
not bestow perfection.
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In just a few words, King Solomon encapsulated the most
essential ingredients for successful child-rearing: "Chanoch l'na'ar
al pi darko — Educate your child according to his or her own
way" (Proverbs 22:6). There is much to say on those few words.
All parents have ideas and aspirations for their children. They
feel (often correctly) that they know what is best for the child. Ultimately
they will apply their own upbringing and background as
their point of reference. Most will want their children to "follow
in their footsteps."
But their upbringing might well be out of date, no longer appropriate
to the world in which their children are growing up.
How a mom and dad were brought up may have worked well for
their personalities and those of their parents, but it may not work
at all for their children.
I knew of two brothers who were once asked by an uncle what
they wanted to be when they grew up. Their father was a very
strong personality and beamed when his oldest son replied that he
had several ambitions. He wished to become a stockbroker. Later
he went on to become a stockbroker. He wished to develop a talent
in public speaking, and he went on to do exactly that. He also
aspired to be a rabbi, and eventually he became a rabbi, too.
The uncle turned to the younger brother and said, "And you,
David, what do you want to be when you grow up?" The boy
did not share his older brother's confidence or determination. He
replied hesitantly, "I think I want to become an actor." The father
smiled benignly, leaned forward, and said, "David...it's pronounced
doctor!"
Although I agree with the father that medicine is an infinitely
better choice than the one his son contemplated, the father's approach
might need refining according to King Solomon's prescription.
Children have to make their own way, and that way is
unlikely to be a replica of their parents' way. It won't necessarily
conform to the outcome they would have chosen for their child.
I wanted all my sons to be rabbis. One is a rabbi. Another is
a successful photographer, one is an architect, and one works in
computers. All are devoted Torah Jews.
Isaac chose a different
path in Torah from his father, Abraham. Jacob chose a different
path in Torah from his father, Isaac.
The Torah has all the advice necessary for getting it right when
it comes to raising children. The account in this week's Torah reading, Vayeishev , illustrates
the likely outcome of showing favoritism to one child above another.
Jacob famously made Joseph a "kesones passim." The
world translates this as a "coat of many colors." The foremost commentator, Rashi, explains
that passim means "fine wool." The Alshich HaKadosh says that
the meaning of kesones becomes apparent from a careful reading
of the verse that reports his brothers removing it from him after
they took him from the pit in which he had been imprisoned:
They took the coat, the fine woolen coat, from upon him.
(Genesis 37:23)
A coat does not sit on a person. Nor does a jacket or a shirt.
The only garment that a person wears that is literally "on" him is
an undershirt.
So the thing that caused all the conflict among the founders of
the Jewish nation was a woolly undershirt!
It almost seems laughable. It was hardly the most extravagant
or luxurious gift, yet it was enough to spark jealousy and hatred
among the brothers. The lesson is that parents must never show
favoritism even if (which is very likely) they have a favorite.
I know someone who was sitting shivah (mourning) with his six brothers
for their father. I knew the father well; he was a pious Jew and one
of Rabbi Dessler's disciples.
His life story is worthy of a book in
its own right; it was filled with astonishing drama and adventure
(he had worked for the British Intelligence Agency MI5 during
the Second World War). In the course of the week, when the sons
were reminiscing about their father, they came to an amazing discovery.
Each one had believed themselves to be their father's favorite!
That was a brilliant parent indeed. He had made the effort, despite
an astonishingly full and hectic life, to make each son think
that he was getting special treatment.
Some parents, like this father, are geniuses at child-rearing. The
frequency of genius, however, is by definition very rare. Some are
very poor and obviously most parents (like me) are average —
sometimes getting it right and sometimes getting it wrong, too.
And most of us are quite convinced that we could do a much
better job at being a parent than our parents...until we actually
become parents, that is.
I recall one of my sons coming to see me while he was experiencing
a major crisis. The wing had broken off his toy airplane.
He opened my door when I was reading a letter I had just received
from my bank manager. He required me to put money
into my account, and I did not know how I would find the sum
demanded.
My son started to explain the disaster that had just occurred in
his life and held up his stricken toy to bring home the scale of the
crisis. I shouted at him in exasperation to leave me alone. "Can't
you see I am busy?" As soon he left the room I felt guilty and full
of remorse. Immediately I recalled an almost identical event that
had occurred in my own boyhood. The arm had come off my
teddy bear. I rushed to my father to seek immediate first aid. He,
too, shouted at me to leave him alone, and I distinctly remember
leaving his room thinking what a disappointment he was as a parent.
Of course, as a little boy I had no way of estimating whether
my father was struggling with a letter from his bank manager or
with some other worry that had left him at the end of his tether.
We all think we could make better parents than our own.
One of the things that the prophet Elijah is supposed to achieve
when he reveals himself at the dawn of the messianic age is "to
restore the hearts of the fathers to their sons and the hearts of the
sons to their fathers" (Malachi 3:24). The much-discussed generation
gap is hardly a new phenomenon. Apparently it will only end
through supernatural intervention. It can be minimized before
that, though, with some simple steps.
A wise rabbi once asked what the Torah means when it says that
the Jewish people stood at Mount Sinai and "saw the sounds"
(Exodus 20:15). How do you see a sound?
He provided a brilliant and novel answer. You may manage to
send you son or daughter to the very best school to acquire
the very best education possible. But when your child returns
home at the end of the day and does not "see the sounds"
he has heard in school, the entire educational endeavor will be in
jeopardy. Children spot hypocrisy and dual standards a million
miles away, and it aggressively corrodes the respect and admiration
upon which the ideal parent-child relationship is built and
sustained. That is one step to bridging the generation gap.
Second, it is essential to remember that as much as you were
chosen for them, they were chosen for you. No one was better
suited to look after them. For most of us, that truth might seem
very remote from the reality of our day-to-day interactions and
struggles with our children and teenagers. It is then that you have
to seek allies.
Long before psychotherapy and counseling became major industries,
generations of Jews have known that it is not a sign of
failure to admit that you need a fresh pair of eyes to look at a
problem that is leaving you staring into an impenetrable mist. It
takes more than parents to successfully raise a child. You need the
support and help of teachers and family as well as other parents
and grandparents.
When I go to visit my mother in her care home, I often think
back to my childhood. Sometimes I ask myself, "Was my mum
a genius at raising me?" The answer is a very definite no. She was
just average, but now that she holds my hand and looks to me
to look after her, I so clearly recall the thousands of times she
looked after me and helped me in countless ways and I'm grateful
to Hashem because He gave her to me.
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Comment by clicking here. JWR contributor Rabbi YY Rubinstein is a world renowned educator, lecturer, radio broadcaster, and seasoned author whose articles have appeared in Hamodia and other periodicals. His newest book, That's Life: Torah Wisdom and Wit to Live By, published by Targum Press, is available at Jewish bookstores and at www.targum.com .
© 2011, Rabbi Y. Y. Rubinstein
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