You remember how your father taught you how to play soccer? You remember how your mother hugged you and fixed your knee when you fell off your bicycle? You remember how your father got angry when you got a bad grade on a test? You remember how your mother didn’t approve of your first love?
We’re all somebody’s child – we were all raised by someone. And many of us are parents, both new and veteran. The parent-child relationship is, as many of us can attest, a very complex relationship. According to research, the parent-child relationship is also the most formative relationship for a child:
The Journal of the American Medical Association reports, “Neonates are born with an instinctive capacity and desire to imitate adult human behavior. That infants can, and do, imitate an array of adult facial expressions has been demonstrated in neonates as young as a few hours old, i.e., before they are even old enough to know cognitively that they themselves have facial features that correspond with those they are observing.
“…Studies indicate that the probability of a child's smoking doubles if one parent smokes and quadruples if both parents smoke.4 Data from the Norwegian National Health Survey demonstrate that the probability of a young adult's having a diet low in fat is five times higher if one of his parents had a low fat intake. Similar associations exist for alcohol consumption, wearing seatbelts and doing exercise…. 5”
Who we are and how we behave influences who our children will be and how they will behave. I raise this issue this morning because the Torah portions that we read on Rosh HaShanah are all about the parent-child relationship. In today’s reading, Isaac is born to Sarah and Abraham, and Abraham takes Hagar and Ishmael, his other son, to the wilderness, thereby cutting Ishmael off from himself. In tomorrow’s reading, Abraham takes Isaac to sacrifice him to G-d in the Akeidah.
Let us explore these relationships and see also where they fit into the themes of Rosh HaShanah, the new year, the opening “day of judgment.”
What does it mean to Abraham, Sarah, and Hagar to be a parent? Perhaps Abraham was getting nervous about whether he would have a son to pass along his inheritance. He gets one in Ishmael – his thanksgiving evident in the name he gives him (“G-d has listened”). When Isaac is born, he has twice the thanks. He seems to love both his sons equally. Perhaps Hagar, who until now has had few comforts in life, is proud and hopeful that Ishmael will be the apple of his father’s eye. Perhaps Sarah starts out desperate and cynical regarding G-d’s promise that she will have a son at age 90. But the moment that Isaac is born, she is full of joy and the feeling that she must do everything in her power to protect this precious gift.
Each with his own dreams and expectations, but “it is difficult to settle everyone’s dreams in the same place at the same time.” Sarah decides that her son will be the solitary inheritor and enacts her right as wife to disenfranchise the son of her maidservant (According to documentation of ancient law, this was a common occurrence). Hagar’s dreams are dashed as she and Ishmael are thrown to the desert. Abraham is torn between his first-born son and the son of his beloved wife.
And things don’t always work out how we like them to. In both the case of Isaac and Ishmael, their parents put their lives in peril. With the parallel language of “vayashkem avraham” (And Abraham arose early in the morning), Abraham takes Ishmael out to the desert where his mother, Hagar, neglects him and leaves him to die under some bushes. And then Abraham takes Isaac is taken to be sacrificed at the command of G-d.
In the case of Ishmael, we can say this was his destiny – giving birth to hardy Arab tribes who thrived in the desert. In the case of Isaac, in each generation, we read the story of his akeidah every year in horror and ponder what could be our “akeidah” (refer to poetry), what “higher cause” of ours do we expect our children to fulfill?
Each of us has hopes and expectations for his children. What is the Sarah in each of us -- How do we attempt to protect our children and give them what we think is the best in the world? What is the Hagar in each of us -- How do our weaknesses influence how we relate to our children? What is the Abraham in each of us – How does our desire for family order influence how we treat one child or another? What price do our children pay so that we can attain our dreams and goals we set for ourselves in life?
The catch is that we never know exactly how what we do influences how they will turn out. As his parents intend, Isaac comes out the winner getting the inheritance from his father – the birthright and the accumulated wealth. And Ishmael seems to come out the loser with an inheritance of a solitary life in the desert. However, it is hinted in their description that while Isaac is passive as the “laughter” (tzchok) of Sarah, Ishmael is active as the “laugher” (m’tzachek) (Genesis 21:9. Ishmael’s life in the desert makes him self-sufficient, someone who can take care of himself. And with everyone doting on Isaac his entire life and directing him what to do, he seems to have come out of it passive, -- he barely protests the akeidah, and later on his wife Rebecca directs which of their sons, Esau or Jacob, will get the birthright.
Parents are generally the most central role models in their children's lives. The story of Isaac and Ishmael teaches us that we have an impact on our children’s destinies – and in the most nuanced way, with both intended and unintended consequences. Every little thing we do can make an impact.
To show how this occurs today, I want to share a recent true story of a mother who “went to the supermarket with her children. When she was checking out, the clerk failed to properly credit her for a promotional item. After unsuccessfully trying to rectify the matter with the checkout clerk, the woman approached the store manager and explained the mistake. The manager was busy, not terribly interested in the woman's complaint, and initially uncooperative. However, eventually the manager reached into his cash drawer and handed her eight shekels compensation. On their way home, the woman realized that the manager had given her too much money. She was already late, however, and could not return to the market.
“That night, however, the woman could not sleep. She kept thinking about the money in her wallet that did not belong to her. In the morning, she rushed the children to get ready for school early, left with them ahead of schedule, and drove straight to the market. There, in front of her children, she explained to the manager the mistake he had made the previous day. The manager was not interested in the story but took the overpayment and returned it to the register drawer.
“Months later, the woman's son took a difficult test at school. Most students did poorly on the test, but her child received a mark of "A+". Indeed, in front of the class the teacher praised the boy for his perfect performance. Then, because so many students had received low grades, the teacher decided to review the correct answers aloud with the class. During the review, the boy realized that he had actually made a mistake on the exam but the teacher had failed to see it. Throughout the review the boy struggled with his desire for the "A+". Ultimately his conscience triumphed. After class he approached the teacher and pointed out the grading error.
“At home later that day, the boy told his mother the story. She praised him for his willingness to sacrifice his "A+" on the altar of honesty. Her son explained that a battle had raged inside of him while he listened to the review. But then he remembered his distraught mother trying to give some cash back to a market manager. The boy told his mother that in that moment his internal battle ended and he realized what he was going to do.”
I hear people often say that it is harder to raise a child today, that the world is so much more complicated. When I read the stories of our ancestors in the Torah, I see imperfect people much like us faced with extremely complex dilemmas of profession, aspiration, and family. Our ancestors were faced by difficult choices in raising children, just as we are. As much time as they spend in school, we are still the main teachers of values and morals. And as much as we live in a multi-media society, parents still receive the number one ratings.
So, we must decide –
Do I want to raise my child to follow through on commitments? Then I have to be true to my word. And I have to give him the opportunities to prove himself.
Do I want to raise my child to appreciate his Jewish heritage? So, I need to show him that I am interested by studying or doing traditions myself.
Do I want my child to listen? Then I need to listen.
Do I want my child to be independent and curious? Then I need to let him fall down sometimes.
What does this have to do with Rosh HaShanah?
According to Rabbi Amy Perlin, “Rosh HaShanah is about coming to be changed and yearning to leave with hope that we can make our daily relationships better. Life is about doing – what is right for us, our children, our parents, our world….”
As we reflect on the year that has passed and the year to come, I believe today’s Torah portion is trying to teach us that at the heart of all our hopes, ideals, setbacks, and dreams, is the family. This is our main sphere of influence and relationships. These relationships are often intricate and sensitive. No matter what stage of life we are in, we need to be conscious of ourselves as the role models for our children. We need to think how we want our children to grow up and be careful to model that. Who we are and the expectations we put on our children influences who they are today and who they will be in the coming year. The tradition tells us that on Rosh HaShanah, G-d opens the book of life to see who will be written in it (life in Hebrew is plural). Why the book of life? (in the plural) This is to teach us that the book of life is not just mine – it is all of ours. My life influences others. The decisions of our ancestors set the course for us. And we are the ancestors of the generations to come.