Fatherly Love
“I love you, but I love Mommy more,” said one of my young children to me one day in a moment of brutal honesty that comes along with the innocence of youth. “I would too if I were you!” I responded. The comment caught me by surprise but honestly, I couldn’t blame her! After all, I am the one who is more of the disciplinarian in the house and, having less patience than my pious wife, occasionally raise my voice more often at the kids. As such, I had no qualms about what my daughter shared with me because I would have said the same thing. (Having said that, watch it kiddo. I’m taking notes and will remember this when I draft my will! :)
Several weeks ago I needed to take a quick trip to New Jersey. Being that the kids were out of camp I took four of them along with me in order to get them out of the house after being cooped up for so long and, more importantly perhaps, to give Miriam a little respite from the normal chaos that abounds in our home.
The only one that I did not take along with me was my 5-year-old daughter Faye. Besides for the fact that I was tight on space in the car, I knew the long drive to NJ and back was a lot for her to handle. Given the fact that there was no pressing need for her to go, nor would she enjoy the same things the older children were looking forward to doing there, I felt it did not make sense for her to come with us. It was partly for my own sake (I was not interested in dealing with the incessant “when are we going to be there!” and “I’m so bored!” chants for almost 8 hours each way when I did not have Miriam to help deal with her while I drove) and partly for Faye’s own sake as I knew that the negatives of all that driving outweighed any positives she was going to accrue from the trip.
While I was gone, Faye voiced her frustration to Miriam at being the only one of the kids who did not accompany me on the trip. “Does Abba not love me?” she asked.
“What?! Of course he loves you!” replied Miriam.
“So why didn’t he take me with him?” asked Faye. Miriam tried explaining it to her by reminding her how she always finds long drives difficult, and that it was in her best interest to stay home for some one-on-one time with Mommy rather than endure a long and boring trip, but her pain of feeling left out from the trip wasn’t quelled by Miriam’s rational logic.
I mention this as a background to the following thought.
In less than a week we will be observing the saddest day on the Jewish calendar – Tisha B’av (the ninth of the Jewish month of Av). This date has been a day of tragedy dating back over 3300 years, to when the Jewish people in the desert sent spies to Israel to reconnoiter the land who then came back and incited panic and desperation throughout the nation and scared them to the point of balking at entering the land. G-d decreed that as a consequence of our people crying an unwarranted cry on that night we would suffer many calamities throughout history and they would always trace back, in part, to that night.
None of us needs a history lesson to know how accurately that decree has been fulfilled. True, on Tisha B’av we reflect primarily upon the destruction of the two Temples, and on our exile from our Land, but included in that mourning we also take the opportunity to mourn for all the tragedies and setbacks our nation has endured throughout the millennia.
The name of the month, Av, literally means “father.” It is paradoxical that the very month that we observe as the most tragic and saddest of all 12 months is the one that has the name “father," connoting some form of familial and intense connection that exists between us and G-d – our Father in Heaven. One would think such a name would be better suited for a more joyous month such as one that Passover or Purim falls out in. Why, of all months, is it this sad one that was given such an incongruous name?
The answer is as follows. When we are beset with troubles and calamities, be they major or minor, individually or communally, our natural tendency may be to immediately question, as my young daughter did, “Why is G-d doing this to me? Does He not love me?” Indeed, it is not uncommon to hear people who are suffering in some way ask these very questions.
The name Av – father – serves as a reminder to us that He indeed does still love us, no matter what it may seem to our immature eyes. It is precisely the saddest month of the year which is called Av to instill in us this all-important lesson that though we were sent into exile and our temple was destroyed, these unfortunate events were brought upon us by a Father who always has and always will love us beyond comprehension. And it goes beyond the destruction of the temple. All of our pains and anguish are given to us for reasons we may not understand but in no way diminish any of the immense love He has for us. On the contrary, we cannot possibly comprehend the deepest love G-d has for each one of us, even if sometimes the things He does to us may indicate otherwise.
We must realize that similar to a 5-year-old who sometimes asks the same question about her father for doing things to her that she can’t understand, the truth is very much that yes, our Father in Heaven very much loves us! Just as I have reasons as a parent for not taking my daughter on a trip to New Jersey while at the same time taking her siblings, that does not in any way mean that I have any less love for her, of course.
Additionally, some of my very reasons for not taking Faye were actually for her very own benefit, although she was too young and mentally immature to appreciate that. In the same vein, in comparison to G-d we are like a young child who cannot fathom the calculations our parents make when deciding our fate and how, despite our insistence otherwise, what G-d ordains for us is always for our own benefit.
Lest you think it is too hard for us to make this shift in mindset, here is some encouragement. Apparently, even 5-year-old Faye has begun to grasp the concept. Recently I had one of those occasional voice-raisings at her for something she was doing that was disobedient. During bedtime later that evening she told my wife, “Even though Abba was angry at me I know he still loves me!”
So as we observe Tisha B’av (join us Wednesday night!) and remember all of the pain and suffering our people have suffered throughout the ages, or even when we ourselves suffer various forms of tragedy or setbacks, let us never forget that through it all there is a caring and compassionate Father in Heaven who loves us more than we know.
Just ask Faye.
Shabbat Shalom,
Rabbi Yosef Koval