Well, it’s Thanksgiving in the United States. Families return home in an attempt to share a few days together, a sumptuous Holiday meal together, and of course family dysfunction together. Obviously, in order for the children to return home for what winds up being dysfunctional family reunions, they must first leave home. So, in our home, we are going through the long difficult process of preparing for our 17-year-old to leave home. As the very common process continues to unfold in our home; I had one of those Sit-Com father moments this week. You know the moment. The wise-cracking, know it all, teenage daughter looks at her father as if he is the most dim-witted, short-sighted, fool on the planet. There I was, in the kitchen, eating my dinner, minding my own business. Our seventeen year old daughter, who firmly believes that neither her mother nor I could possibly understand what she goes through because after all, we were never seventeen, never seniors in high school, never had burning desire to leave home with mixed with the trepidation of leaving home, and never thought that our own parents were as clueless and out of touch as our daughter thinks we are. So after our daughter expressed her aggravation with her mother; I committed the sin of looking up and smiling because she sounded like a typical 17-year-old, with typical 17-year-old anxiety about the questions concerning her gap year and her four years at college/university. Boy did she let me have it! She looked incredulously, sneered and told me that I was annoying and she “couldn’t wait to get out of this house.” I suppose if I was the saintly good father, I would have let it pass or made a comment about how much we will miss her when she does finally leave. However, I am not such a saintly father. So I looked up from my dinner, I smiled and said that “I can’t wait either!”. Needless to say, my comment, which I thought was particularly poignant and thoughtful, didn’t go over very well with daughter or mother. Yet, as part of our daughter’s continued spiritual, emotional and intellectual development, it is important that she leaves home. It is important that the values that we instilled in her, become her values, the code with which we raised her becomes her code, and the rules that we instituted to govern her life becomes the rules by which she governs her own life.
This week we read from Parshat VaYeitzeh- a Parsha that is replete with the Holiday Themes of Thanksgiving and “Home for the Holidays”. The focus of the narrative is upon Yaakov. He has left his mother, Rivkah, and his father Yitzchak, for the first time. In fleeing his brother Esav, Yaakov now embarks on a new phase of his life. Yaakov will meet his future wives, his cousins Leah and Rachel. He will work for his father in- law, Lavan, and he will have children. The narrative focuses on Yaakov life from young adulthood to becoming a responsible father, earning a living and all the trials, tribulation, and tensions of career and family. As Yaakov makes his way in life, hopefully, he will learn more about himself. With each event, with each adventure, Yaakov has an opportunity to become better connected, better connected to himself, and better connected to a covenant that his father bequeathed to him.
Yaakov needs to have his own experiences, and live his own life before he is capable of truly offering thanks and being thankful. After Yaakov dreams of the ladder, he has a revelatory experience. V’hinei Adonai Nitzav Alav, Vayomer: Ani Adonai Elohei Avraham Avicha v’Elohei Yitzchak – and behold Hashem stood above it and said: I am Hashem the God of Abraham your father, and the God of Yitzchak (Gen.28:13). However, God does not introduce himself as “your God” but rather the God of his Avraham and Yitzchak. God appreciates the fact that any sense of a relationship that exists between Yaakov and God is merely a function of Yaakov’s father and grandfather. Although he received a blessing upon fleeing from his home, Yaakov has not experienced his own narrative. He doesn’t share a common narrative with his father or grandfather. Yaakov does not yet have his own connection to God and the covenant. Rather he must develop his connection. Va’yidar Yaakov Neder Leimor: Im Yiheyeh Elohim Imadi, v’Shamrani b’Derech Hazeh Asher Anochi Holeich, v’Natan Li Lechem Le’Echol v’Beged Lilbosh, V’Shavti B’shalom El Beit Avi, V’hayah HaShem Li Leilohim – And Yaakov vowed a vow saying: if the God will stand with me, and guard me on this way that I go, and give me bread to eat and clothing to wear, and returns me in peace to my father’s home, then Hashem will be my God. (Gen 28:20-21). Yaakov has now laid out the conditions by which Yaakov and God will have their own unique connection, based upon a common narrative that he shares with his father and grandfather. Like his grandfather Avraham who left home (Parsha Lech Lecha) and developed his own relationship with God, and like his father Yitzchak who had the ties to home severed (see the Akedah/Binding of Isaac); Yaakov innately understands that he needs to leave home and he needs to have the tools and strength to be able to return home. Only after experiencing exile and returning home does Yaakov share enough common experiences with his father and grandfather that he would feel connected to the Covenant and to his family.
Part of the Thanksgiving experience is the idea that Americans return “home” for Thanksgiving. As we sit down to our family’s Thanksgiving meal, we all understand that future Thanksgivings will be different. It was different for my parents when I left home, only to return, first as a single man, then as a married man, then as a father. It will be different for me and my wife. Yes, our eldest has been returning home for Thanksgiving for ten years, but now, our next child will also be returning home for all future Thanksgivings. So yes, “I can’t wait either” for her to leave, not because I won’t miss her, not because she is an annoying teenager, but because I know that she needs to have her own covenant. I know that she needs to take ownership of the values, code, and rules which we tried to instill. Maybe when she returns home next year she won’t think I’m such a dim-witted clueless father.
Peace,
Rav Yitz
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