For my wise children

Yom shishi, 4 Nisan 5771.

Another genius article by Rabbi Moss.

Question of the Week:

One thing I never understood in the Haggadah of Pesach. What's so wise about the Wise Son? He asks his parents, "What are all the laws that our G-d has commanded you?" He seems no better than the Wicked Son, who is criticized for excluding himself and asking "What is this Pesach service to you?" - to you and not to him. Does the Wise Son not also say "commanded you" and not him, thus excluding himself?

Answer:

The Wise Son and the Wicked Son are not similar at all. They are opposites. The Wise Son asks a question. The Wicked Son isn't asking, he is mocking. He doesn't ask questions of his parents. He belittles them.

It isn't his fault. He is a child of post-modern parents. Such parents don't ever tell their children what to do. Instead of giving thier kids direction, they ask them questions.

"Do you want to go to bed now gorgeous?" 

"What would you like for lunch tomorrow princess?"

"Are you ready to stop poking your sister's eye out cutey-pie?"

Parents who constantly ask their children questions and give them choices are putting their children into a position of authority that they are not ready for, while undermining their own authority. More than anything else, children need boundaries. They need to be lovingly told what is right and what is wrong, what is allowed and what is forbidden. These ethical lines have to be clear and unequivocal, set down with sensitivity but without room for debate.

But to give clear boundaries you have to be an authority figure, you have to carry moral weight in the eyes of your children. A parent who caves in to their kids' desires and cowers to their demands, who consults their children's opinion on everything and always gives them options, will never command the respect needed to lay down the law for their children. Kids of such parents see themselves as the know-it-alls, and their parents as silly old people who haven't got a clue.

This is the wisdom of the Wise Child. He recognises that his parents are the source of wisdom, not he, and so he needs to ask them questions, not the other way around. He looks to his parents for guidance, he seeks their input and their point of view, knowing that when it comes to life skills, his youthful energy and idealism are no match for the experience and mature insight of the older generation.

A wise child doesn't come from nowhere. He comes from wise parents. Ask your children too many questions and they will stop asking you any. Give your children clear direction, and they will become wise too.

Good Shabbos,

Rabbi Moss

 And a joyful Pesach to you and your families, my wise children.

Love,

Ema

Ema's Pearl Necklace

Yom rishon, 4 Shevat 5771.

While you were growing up, I made no secret of the fact that strings of pearls are my favorite jewelry, just in case any of you would ever have a fairly significant chunk of change lying about on my birthday.  (I think women should not expect men to read their minds.  Such a ploy is doomed to failure, in countless highly imaginable ways.)

There was a side benefit to sharing this knowledge: in your childish minds, pearls were a pretty big deal to Ema.

So when we were confronted with the usual parenting question of how to create a Petri dish filled with family harmony to grow and thrive in an environment usually laden with sibling rivalry, we had the perfect tool.

When you would come to us and "rat" on each other for some injustice -- real or imagined -- we weighed carefully whether we ought to get involved.  We truly believe some fights should be left between the participants.  We watched closely to see when a bigger kid might be playing the bully, or a little kid might be playing the manipulator, or anyone might be playing us.  We would ask you if you really wanted us involved.  Our involvement would mean getting to the bottom of the dispute, which usually meant nobody would walk away completely clean.  And we made it clear that anybody trying to make himself look good by making his brother look bad gained only our deep disappointment.  You learned to work things out among yourselves most of the time, without dramatic displays that didn't net you much profit.

But my favorite way of instilling brotherly love in you was via "Ema's Pearl Necklace."  When one of you would do something really nice -- or even better, when one of you would "tell on" his brother for doing him a kindness -- I would write with Magic Marker on a white paper plate a short sentence.  "Josh helped Dovid with his homework."  "Aryeh shared his candy with Dani."  "The brothers did the dishes, without being asked."  I taped the plate to a string of twine Abba had run around the top of the wall, where people put fancy borders these days.  Our dining room was a constant reminder that doing nice things, and saying nice things about each other, paid off "big time" in dividends of parental pride.

Today, you are all men I like very much.  And Abba and I often remark to each other that if we gave you nothing else, the environment that allowed you to be very good friends (for life, we hope) was worth its weight in pearls.