Rabbi Charles P. Sherman
June 14, 2002
After All I Have Done For You!
One of the reasons we study the Tanach is because of its insights into human nature. For example, our Bible provides a variety of models with regard to marriage and parenthood. On this Shabbat Eve, when we are celebrating a 60th wedding anniversary, I’d like to take a closer look at two of these models.
In the Book of Samuel we read how the childless Hannah visits the Temple and prays for the birth of a child. The High Priest, Eli, assures her that she will give birth to a son. In gratitude, she responds: "I will loan him to God." Her son, Samuel, was raised in the Temple under the guidance of Eli, and becomes one of the great leaders of the Jewish People. Hannah surely shares her beloved son with God, her People and the world.
Contrast that story with the biblical account of the birth of the very first child. Eve gives birth to Cain and makes a mistake; parents have been committing this error ever since. We read in Genesis: "And Adam knew his wife Eve and she conceived and gave birth to a son." The mother exclaims: "Kaniti! I have acquired a son!" And in a play on the word kaniti – I have acquired – she names him Kayin, Cain. It is as if she had announced: I have created a son, I own my child. She looked upon Cain as her "possession."
Now we can empathize with Eve’s exaltation. She was the first mother in human history. Can you imagine her consternation and trepidation when she became pregnant? The weight gain, morning sickness, carrying a child for nine months. Who knows, perhaps late at night she craved pickles, and ice cream hadn’t been invented yet.
We can understand her joy and sense of achievement. I have created a child. He is flesh of my flesh, my possession.
We can sympathize with this exultation. Don’t many mothers and fathers experience the same feelings when a child is born? As parents glance with pride at their child’s crib, they are filled with the hopes and dreams that their child will be blessed with health, success, achievement and contentment. How often does a new parent react – it is my child; I have acquired him.
Yet we know what became of Cain. What a cruel misnomer kaniti, I have acquired a son. Mother Eve did not possess her son. He killed his brother Abel and became a wanderer over the face of the earth. She never even laid eyes on her son again.
With Hannah, we find a completely different attitude. I have loaned my child to God. Hannah believed she was, at best, the temporary custodian of her child, a gift from God and, consequently, Hannah received so much nachas from him. Eve was under the misapprehension that she owned her child and, consequently, she lost him. The rabbis comment on this story: "There is no possession with children." We own property – a home, a business – but we never, never possess children.
This is a crucial insight for successful parenthood. A mother and father never possess their children. If they think for a moment that they do, then they are doomed to disappointment, failure and heartache. God gives us our children in trust, and it is our responsibility to raise a son or daughter successfully. It is God’s plan and human nature that children should grow up, grow out and grow away. Like it or not, this is the way it has always been and will continue to be. Successful parents must understand that there is no possession when it comes to children.
Growing up is a process of severing the cord that binds children to parents. All of us experience this process of growing away. It is when a child of four returns from nursery school and a parent asks "What have you learned today?" And is answered: "Nothing." It is when a mother rebukes a 14-year old: "What are you dreaming about?" And is greeted with silence. And it is also when a son of 24 informs his father: "I do not plan to be a doctor" or "I want you to meet the woman I plan to marry." Mature and successful parents not only permit, but even courage their children to make their own decisions for their own life. Mature parents help their children take on responsibility, think for themselves and make their own destiny. If their children succeed, this is the greatest reward, that in the best sense he or she is a mensch.
Immature parents, on the other hand, seek from their children – often demand from their children – loyalty and gratitude, attentiveness and indebtedness. They want their children to be subservient to them. When a child takes a stand which disagrees with the parent, makes his own decisions and attempts to live her own life, ofttimes the parent’s rebuke will be phrased this way: After all I have done for you! Is this the way you repay me? Do I deserve this treatment? We have given you so much and you do not want to enter the family business? We’ve sacrificed so much for you over the years and this is the girl you want to marry? I’ve done everything for you since you were a baby and now you want to move away from me to another city? You are an ingrate. You ignore me and you neglect me. You’ve left me out of your life. How can you be more concerned about your wife and your children than for me? How can you do this to me, after all I have done for you?
These parents make the mistake of Eve. "I have acquired a son." Such immature parents are doomed to disappointment. Children never belong to parents permanently. A mother or father who exclaims "after all I have done for you" will never extract adequate love and satisfaction. These parents often become martyrs, constantly throwing it up to their children, reminding them of the sacrifices they have made, castigating them for their selfishness. Consequently, their children are often burdened with guilt complexes. Such children can never repay or satisfy such parents.
"After all I have done for you" is really a very sad litany. How many children have heard these words? How many parents have made this statement? How many husbands and wives? For that matter, how many employees have heard this phrase from their employers? How many lawyers have said this to clients? Physicians to patients who leave them for another doctor? Storekeepers to customers who suddenly shop elsewhere? Members of a synagogue to a rabbi, or a rabbi to a congregant who is changing affiliation? Members of organizations who are not selected to the Board of Directors? Politicians who are not re-elected?
No, we must not confine this observation merely to parents. We should ask why do people extend themselves, sacrifice, forgo pleasure – not just for children, but for other members of the family, for friends, neighbors, as citizens, members of a synagogue or philanthropic organization. For some, the reason for giving and caring is a sense of responsibility – I owe this to so-and-so. This is what a father does. This is what a husband is expected to do. This is how a boss should act. Often we give and sacrifice begrudgingly, in a perfunctory manner, as an obligation.
A couple of months ago I saw the movie classic "Guess Who’s Coming to Dinner" again. Sidney Poitier’s father disapproves of his marriage. He rebukes his son: "After all these years I was a mailman, walking tens of thousands of miles in the heat of day, blisters on my feet. Is this the way you act?"
And his son replies: "This was your responsibility. I did not ask to be born. You did it for yourself."
Another motivation for giving is that we expect something in return. It is an IOU, tit-for-tat; someday the giver will collect his chit. Other reasons for giving are control, power, guilt and much more. But whatever the motivation for sacrifice – whether it be for children, family or friends – when we are hurt, ignored, or rebelled against, our natural response is: "After all I have done for you?"
Wrong! Wrong motivation for giving. We must want to give, not feel that we have to give. We must sacrifice freely, voluntarily, from the heart. Why do we extend ourselves and sacrifice for a child, a parent, a husband, a wife? We do this out of love. Love impels us to do everything possible and expect nothing in return. If we want nothing, anticipate nothing, expect nothing – then we will receive so much more than we ever dreamed.
You remember Shakespear’s King Lear? He was a very vain man. His children adored him and the King would play one against the other. He announced to them that he would bequeath his kingdom to the daughter who loved him the most. Goniral assures her father that she loves him more than her own husband and children. His daughter, Regan, exclaims that she loves him more than life itself. Cordellia, his youngest and favored, responds: I cannot heave my heart into my mouth. I love your majesty according to my bond, not more or less.
King Lear is shocked. He loves Cordellia and will give her one more chance. "Mend your speech a little, lest it mar your fortunes."
She replies, "You have begot me, loved me: I return those duties back as right fit, obey you, love you and most honor you. Why have my sisters husbands, if they say they love you all? Haply I shall wed; that lord whose hand must take my plight shall carry half my love with him, half my care and duty: sure, I shall never marry like my sisters, to love my father all."
King Lear becomes enraged and banishes Cordellia from his kingdom. Then, later, the king himself is cast out by his other daughters, to whom he has given his possessions. He wanders in the storm and is rescued by Cordellia. Too late he learns the truth. Cordellia loves him truly, whereas her sisters have flattered him only for his wealth. This is just punishment for his vanity. This is what he deserves because he demanded flattery and love. King Lear made the same mistake as Eve. "I possess and own my children. I can shape their lives and control them." There is no possession with children.
In contrast to King Lear, in Jewish literature there was a wise old woman known as Gluckel of Hamlin. She lived in Germany at the same time as Shakespear was writing in England. Gluckel was a simple woman from the old school. Undoubtedly she would have made a hit with Shakespear because of her wisdom. In her autobiography, Gluckel sends a letter to her children. Her husband has died and her children have moved to another city. In this letter, she advises them how to live. She tells them a parable, which I recommend to all parents.
"There was a bird with three fledglings. On a very windy day the father wanted to help each of his children to cross the river. He placed the first fledgling on his wings and when he reached half-way he said: ‘You see how I struggle. When you grow up, will you do as much for me?"
"And the first child responds, ‘Bring me to the shore safely and I will do even more’." He returns the first child.
"He then asks the same question of the second. And, unsatisfied with the same answer, returns that fledgling also.
"When he asks the same question of his third child, she replies: ‘In truth, my father, you have struggled mightily on my behalf. When you become old, it would be wrong not to repay you according to the best of my ability. But this I promise, as you have done for me, I will do for my children. As you have struggled and taken risks on my behalf, so I will do for my children."
"Replied the father: ‘Well spoken my child, and wise,’ and he brings her to the other side."
Gluckel of Hamlin was advising her children who had moved to another city how they should act when she became old. She wanted them to do for their children as she had done for her children; as she had struggled and sacrificed for them and raised them righteously, this was all that she asked and all that she desired of them.
Gluckel of Hamlin never met William Shakespear. I am certain that they would have gotten along very well. Each offered the very same insight. It was the lesson of Eve – there is no possession with children. The goal of parents is that our children should bestow love upon their children. We dare not try to raise children for our private pleasure so that our sons and daughters fawn upon us and allow us to dominate and control them.
Tonight, we celebrate the 60th wedding anniversary of a very special couple. Blanche and Len Kishner have four children, 24 grandchildren, nine great-grandchildren. Those of us who know this family recognize that the offspring of Len and Blanche were not created with some cookie cutter mold. They are a disparate and, therefore, interesting lot of progeny. Unique individuals all, and it is not an accident. Mom and Dad, Grandma and Grandpa, Great-Grandma and Great-Grandpa, have understood for a long time that each child has his own life to live; every newborn child is unique and her his own soul and task and spirit. No one, not even a parent, can say "I have acquired a child."
Furthermore, Len and Blanche have never lived their lives for their children and children’s children. Len has skillfully and devotedly practiced medicine for all these parenting years. Blanche has pursued her arts and crafts interests and has volunteered thousands of hours of community service. Their lives and identities have never been so wrapped up in their kids so as to be indistinguishable from them. Furthermore, they have surely loaned their first-born to the Temple.
Successful parents, such as Blanche and Len, know that children must grow up, grow out and grow away. Never will you hear such parents say: "After all I have done for you." Rather, they will raise their children to be upright, self-sustaining adults and wise parents. Let us all follow the example, not of Eve – "I have acquired a child" – but rather learn from Hannah – I have loaned my child to God. Amen.
In preparing this message, I have relied considerably on the writings of Rabbi Hillel E. Silverman
