Parashat Lech Lecha

This week’s parasha, Lech Lecha, is commonly translated as Hashem telling Abraham to "Go" (to the Land of Israel).  Another commentary that I recently heard translates it as "go unto yourself, know yourself."  One of the things we teach our Lower School students is just this - know who you are, know your strengths as well as those areas which you might need to improve or change.  Know that you are safe here, know that you have the ability to take risks, know that you are growing and learning and maybe even changing. Know that we will support you, and even guide you.  It's actually a fascinating process to watch.  Obviously, the children are encouraged to spread their wings, to stretch, within guidelines, to reflect appropriate behavior in their quest. The results are beautiful - seeing the children demonstrating their successes, dealing with their " failures" and becoming  stronger individuals is a side benefit to our daily interactions.  It is one of the motivating reasons we continue to look for new activities and programs to challenge and interest our students so that they might find areas not yet explored, subjects that might light their fires,  aspects that will help shape them.

Knowing ourselves doesn't end with childhood.  As adults, we certainly can appreciate new-found paths or interests, or even understandings about ourselves.  New opportunities bring with them new chances to reflect upon past experiences, to learn from them, to adapt or adopt.  Sometimes we even may surprise ourselves.  On my recent trip to Israel, I had several fascinating experiences.  (Yes, the wedding was an incredible experience - our new granddaughter is of Iraqi-Tunisian descent while the chatan is straight Ashkenaz.  Each of the Sheva Brachot under the chuppah was said in a different nusach; the Shabbat Chatan was a melding of cultures and a tribute to the beauties of all our heritages.)

In addition to the simcha memories that fill my heart, there's another experience that took me totally by surprise.  Our first Shabbos was spent with our son in his home in the South, in (what used to be the sleepy little town of) Netivot.  Unfortunately it has become a frequent target for rockets from Gaza.  And so, as we sat around the Friday night table, celebrating our grandson’s upcoming ufruf, the sirens went off.  This was no fire drill because they were quickly followed by the sounds of explosions.   Our son and his family previously have told us of this fairly routine occurrence, and of course, I have been duly disconcerted; my husband served in Vietnam and has discussed and compared their  shelling with what he experienced.   But I?   A definite first for me.  I confess...I jumped to my feet, as they all continued to calmly sit around the table, explaining why they felt safe, but of course, if I wanted to go into the protected room, we could do so.  What were my first thoughts?  " Don't tell my mother!"   I am still amazed that I wasn't fearful, not even when subsequently we were continuously given instructions about what do if sirens went off while we were outside - where to stand, where to go.  This was repeated this past Shabbat, in Beer Sheva, the "safe" rooms noted, the cautionary guidelines for walking outside.

Know yourself.  Know that some people live with fear every day, know that what they accept as status quo is remarkable, know that there is a  basic bitachone in Hashem's protectorate, know that the underlying love of eretz Yisrael dominates their lives.  Know that sometimes or frequently, we can stand up to evil, preparing ourselves for it, girding ourselves with faith, calling upon stored memories to know that we can handle things we never would have imagined...and in the end, know that sometimes our response is beyond ourselves, the primal instinct to protect our families.  Safe with the acquired knowledge that we can be strong, gleaned from years of learning about  others' strengths, we too can stretch and go into foreign situations with calmness.

Let us all appreciate the safety of our homes, and pray for the safety of those in Israel.  Let us help our children grow to be strong and independent, to experience growth and change within our safe borders. Let us daven that the land given to Avraham Avinu will teach us all this lesson of "lech lecha" - to learn about and look into ourselves and find strength.
Shabbat Shalom

I was taken aback by the warm reception I received from many students upon my return from Israel – thank you for raising such beautiful children!

Parashat Bereshit

It was the box of legos that prompted the sentimental journey.  My neighbor’s grandchildren needed something to keep them occupied over yom tov, so since no one at our house was using them, out it came from the closet shelf, where it was neatly stored.  Memory Lane: my husband was in Vietnam and I was (safe in New Jersey) in a small apartment with three children under five (my own private war zone!).  I wondered if I would ever be able to vacuum a floor without first having to clear away the hundreds of Lego pieces that our 5-year-old son used to construct his intricate buildings, and which his two younger sisters loved to destroy.  I also wondered if I ever would be finished parenting. The children grew and learned to play together – or to ignore each other; their interests and their needs were less demanding physically and occupied a tremendous amount of mental energy, concern, and worry: school issues, friendships, middot, drivers’ licenses (gulp!), colleges, life’s choices.  Then it got to the point when their friendships shifted to include their parents and the relationships deepened to include significant others – spouses and children.  Different kinds of worries; different kind of parenting: sage advice sought, continued concerns about their health and the vicissitudes of life – and that of their spouses, in addition to the layer of their children’s illnesses, schooling, drivers’ licenses (double gulp!!), behavior patterns, etc. Of course, mixed in with the worry about how the increasing number of kids were faring while fasting on Yom Kippur came the pride that there were so many who did so; along with the niggling worries about the child who wasn’t growing at the right speed was the enjoyment of his sense of humor.  And then there are the numerous phone calls that THEY initiate wishing us a Good Shabbos or a Happy Birthday – along with the plethora of hugs dispensed so lovingly. And now another level – THEIR children are maturing beautifully and are making their own life choices – to include choosing spouses!  How will they support themselves, where will they live, are they really old enough to make these vital decisions?  As you read this, I should be in Yerushalayim, preparing for the wedding of my grandson … the son of the avid Lego builder.  And, I must confess –I am sentimental : Somehow, the years pass and the floor is easily cleaned until you reach the point where the  toys (that survived being swept up into the vacuum cleaner) are neatly packed away into containers that are pulled out when the grandkids come.  There are many stages to life and if we’re fortunate, we weather them, at times wondering how we’ll survive the next one, thankful for the strength that got us through the previous one, never believing that one day we’ll pine for these times, grateful for beautiful memories..  If we had only known how quickly the busy parenting days pass, we would not have wished them away.  You are never done parenting – it just takes another guise. B”H, we have been privileged to be part of these phases and eagerly anticipate the next ones. Taking this to a different dimension, what memories will you associate with your children's growing?  Did events happen over the chagim that triggered other memories?  Made you sentimental for past yom tovim?  What do your children think they'll "always remember"?  I would love to hear your thoughts on this. Shabbat Shalom