How You Shall Tell Your Son

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April 13, 2017, 11 AM ET

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The need for continuous and inspired parent-child dialogue is about as deep a Jewish value as you will find. For millennia, we have used such communication as a means of inculcating within our offspring a deep sense of religious connection and understanding, while also keeping them focused on proper behaviors and values. In fact, the concept dates back to our national inception, and has served as a basic charge in terms of how we recount our exodus from Egyptian bondage. “And you shall tell your child on this day…” (Shemos 13:8) In the words of Rabbi Samson Raphael Hirsch: “Tell it to your child…. We are asked to accompany the practical observance of every religious precept, which our children see us perform and which we seek to teach them to perform in their turn, with a verbal explanation of its substance and significance. Through our words, our children should learn what these practices and observances mean to us so that they, too, may perceive them with their hearts and minds.” (Collected Writings, Vol. VII, pp. 360-361) If there is ever a moment in our lives that clearly underscores the crucial role that parents play in the development of their children, it is the Pesach Seder. We all just sat together at our Seders surrounded by the many mitzvos of the evening. There, we impressed upon our inquiring children that “by strength of hand did God take us out of Egypt, from the house of bondage.” It was not due to our strength or skills that we achieved our freedom; only through Hashem’s direct intervention could we witness salvation. Moreover, we solidified the nexus of thought and action. We did not simply recount what occurred to our forefathers three thousand years ago. Rather, we aimed to relive that experience through the reenactment of their glorious experiences, and drew a personal connection to ourselves and our present realities. “A man is obligated to view himself [at the Seder] as if he himself was leaving Egypt.” (Pesachim 116b) But the topic of chinuch does not start and end on the first night of Pesach. All throughout the week, as we initiate the counting of the omer, we impart to our children pertinent lessons, such as the true goal of sefirah, which is to prepare to receive the Torah and achieve the special status of “metzuveh v’oseh” that was achieved at Sinai. (This is based on explanations of the passage in Dayeinu that states, “Even if the Almighty would have brought us before Mount Sinai but would not have presented to us the Torah, it would have been sufficient an act as to warrant our appreciation.) At week’s end, we shift our focus to the culmination of the redemption – Kriyas Yam Suf. There, too, chinuch plays a central role. Our sages (Shemos Rabbah) tell us the babies born and raised in Egypt were the first to recognize Hashem at that auspicious time. Apparently, even later artwork communicated the centrality of chinuch at the Yam Suf. A story is told involving the fifth rebbe of Chabad-Lubavitch, Rabbi Sholom DovBer Schneersohn, known by the acronym “Rashab.” The Rebbe Rashab once saw a painting whose theme was the miracle of krias Yam Suf. The picture showed the children’s faces turned toward their parents, while the parents’ faces were turned upward. His son, the Rebbe Rayatz, explained that when children recognize they are still children, and they look toward their parents and see them acknowledging their own smallness by gazing upward toward their Father in Heaven, those children will grow up properly.

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With such a chinuch-related emphasis all throughout the week of Pesach, it follows that this is a wonderful opportunity to strengthen our capacity to parent effectively. The following strategies may be useful in assisting parents with concrete strategies for reaching and inspiring their children.

Work on your own character: There is perhaps no more powerful a lesson we can impart to our children than to be a solid role model for them. We know the apple doesn’t typically fall far from the tree, or in Talmudic parlance, “the talk of the child in the marketplace is either that of his father or of his mother.” (Sukkah 56b)

To be a good role model is to be a good person and model that goodness to your children, day in and day out. Kids pick up on our tendencies whether we realize it or not. Our conduct and attitudes, stated explicitly or implicitly, often become those of our children. In a famous poem entitled, “Children Learn What They Live”, author Dorothy Law Nolte poignantly captures this idea: If a child lives with criticism, he learns to condemn. If a child lives with hostility, he learns to fight. If a child lives with fear, he learns to be apprehensive. If a child lives with pity, he learns to feel sorry for himself. If a child lives with ridicule, he learns to be shy. If a child lives with jealousy, he learns what envy is. If a child lives with shame, he learns to feel guilty. If a child lives with encouragement, he learns to be confident. If a child lives with tolerance, he learns to be patient. If a child lives with praise, he learns to be appreciative. If a child lives with acceptance, he learns to love. If a child lives with approval, he learns to like himself. If a child lives with recognition, he learns that it is good to have a goal. If a child lives with sharing, he learns about generosity. If a child lives with honesty and fairness, he learns what truth and justice are. If a child lives with security, he learns to have faith in himself and in those about him. If a child lives with friendliness, he learns that the world is a nice place in which to live. If you live with serenity, your child will live with peace of mind. With what is your child living? Unfortunately, we know far too many stories of children who got the wrong kind of messaging growing up. A story is told of a rebbi who asked his class what the most important thing in the world was. Naturally, most children responded “Hashem.” One boy answered with a sarcastic tone and offered “cholent” as his most important thing. In private conversation afterward the boy said that each week he shares his dvar Torah with his father, who is far more preoccupied with wolfing down his cholent than he is with what his son has to say. In more current terms, one can easily imagine a child answering “iPhone” to the same question, considering how focused we tend to be on our phones, even during meal time, chavrusa time, and other once-sacred times. Some parents do the right things but feel it’s best to be discreet and not share their mitzvah activity with their children. This can be a mistake. A yeshiva bachur was walking in Jerusalem when he was recruited for a prayer service in a shiva home. The boy looked at the mourners and saw they were irreligious; their attire and ill-fitting kippot gave it away. Yet he also noticed a large display of sefarim around the room. Surely, the deceased must have been a great scholar, or at the least had an unusual affinity toward Torah scholarship. He asked the mourners for an explanation. They shared that the home was that of their father, the deceased. He was a great scholar who would immerse himself in study for hours on end. But he did so with his door closed, and failed to engage his sons in the beauty of Torah learning and in a genuine father-son relationship. The result was that each one viewed his Torah as a barrier to their relationship and wanted nothing to do with it.

Instruct your child: A number of years ago, the CBS program “60 Minutes” ran two separate stories about “Millennials,” the newest generation to enter the American work force. In just a short period of time this new breed of American worker has come to challenge everything their bosses hold sacred.

Gone are the days when young employees held their superiors and work environment in great reverence, hoping to one day climb the corporate ladder. Today, work orders and processes are routinely challenged, standards of attire regularly flouted. Even the largest, most firmly established companies don’t know what to do with their youthful employees. Many have given in and now offer free food, recreation rooms, and work-schedule flexibility to keep everyone happy. What’s prompted this radical change in the way our youth perceive the workplace and conduct themselves in it? Interestingly, the most commonly identified culprit is the doting “everyone is special” world in which these young men and women were raised. In all my years I’ve never heard a negative word about Mr. Rogers (of “Mr. Rogers’ Neighborhood” fame). After all, the Mr. Rogers I knew was always so friendly and positive. Yet according to many, his glossy-eyed view of the world, one in which everyone was special simply by virtue of the fact that they existed, trained an entire generation of children (and their parents) to think of themselves and their needs in inflated terms. Soccer leagues have taught this same lesson. Many have placed an excessive premium on “fairness” and sportsmanship, to the point where they do not allow for wins and losses. In these leagues, one need not win the championship to receive a trophy; participation alone guarantees recognition. However, the guiltiest parties in this discussion seem to be the parents themselves, who have given their children the world (or at least the opportunity to tour it in style) on a silver platter, without requiring much in return. These parents do not know when to step back and allow their children to live their own lives and struggle through their own challenges. In fact, many parents continue to actively advocate for their children even as they move into college and work environments, inquiring (in an often hostile manner) as to why their (not so) little Johnny received a “C” on his paper, or darling Sarah did not get the promotion she was seeking. Rather than coddle them, parents would be wise to insist on respect from their children even as the world around us confers more and more authority on our youth. Rav Yaakov Kaminetsky was once traveling with a grandchild. The young man was acting with great respect toward his grandfather, and heeded his every need and request. Another passenger, who happened to be the secretary-general of the Histadrut Israeli trade federation, was struck at the contrast with the treatment he received from his own offspring. Rav Yaakov told him the contrast was attributable to their differing views of man’s origins. Whereas the Histadrut official believed in Darwinian evolution and that every generation was one further removed from the ape, Jewish tradition insists that each generation is one further removed from Sinai. Consequently, we are reliant on our ancestors to serve as links in the chain of our tradition. As such, it is they who most deserve respect. Still, respect must only be insisted upon with gentleness. The Vilna Gaon wrote as much to his own children. “Guide [your children] only with gentleness,” he said, “for Torah learning is instilled within a person only through an approach of sincerity and gentleness.” This may be all fine and good when the child is generally well mannered. But how are parents to educate their children if they are indifferent – or worse, fight them on every point – in a manner that will help them achieve the desired goal? Wouldn’t insistence upon respect with such children backfire? The Steipler Gaon, Rav Yaakov Yisroel Kanievsky, once advised a parent who couldn’t get his child to improve his behavior to pretend it was the father who needed the help and the son who supported him. “Say,” he advised, “that you need a study partner to learn ethics.” The goal was the same: to introduce the son to proper ethical thinking and practice. The method, however, was sufficiently indirect enough to lower the boy’s guard. Another strategy is to end on a positive note. Once, when he was a young man, Rabbi Dr. Abraham Twerski was at home with his family on Rosh Hashanah. The family did not play games on Rosh Hashanah, so Abraham’s father was naturally upset when his son allowed himself to be drawn by a guest into a game of chess. After expressing his displeasure, he winked at his son and asked, “You checkmated him, right?” We all need to reprimand our children. But it’s the way we do it, and the flavor we leave in their mouths when we’re done, that can make all the difference. May we all merit utilizing this week to its fullest, to strengthen our own resolve as parents and to connect deeply with our children, thereby achieving the powerful and eternal charge of all Jewish parents to “tell it to your child.”