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As parents, we have many hopes and dreams for our children.  Among these are imparting our Jewish values effectively, so that they will shape their thinking and decisions and life choices.  And yet, we want our children to be autonomous human beings, expanding their inquisitive, critical thinking.
 
The two can seem at odds with each other- expecting our children to embrace our values, black-and-white truths.  And yet, giving our children the freedom- and respect- of exploring their thoughts.
 
How to reconcile the two?
 
While we certainly have an obligation to guide our children’s questions about Judaism, about Hashem…to concrete answers and eternal values, the journey to getting to these answers can be filled with discussion, with input from the child- because it is through the child’s input that they come to see the soul of Judaism, not just the immediate answers.
 
Judaism has “the discipline of thought as well as the discipline of action,” Rabbi Soloveichick so poignantly describes, “. . .[but] Judaism expresses itself not only in formal compliance with the law but also in a living experience . . . that there is a flavor, a scent and warmth to the mitzvot . . .”
 
And perhaps a key to having this “living experience” is for the child’s thoughts to be respected, and taken seriously in relation to his questions.
 
When a child asks a question, oftentimes, they have begun formulating an answer.  When children feel safe to share this formulation, it can contribute to the journey of arriving to an answer.
 
As busy parents, this can prove to be quite a challenge.  It is quicker- and might also feel ‘safer’- to give an immediate, rushed response to our child’s question, as opposed to exploring the question with them, sometimes allowing complex thoughts and feelings to surface.
 
An example…
Quick to Answer:
Child:  Mommy, why can’t we see Hashem?
Mom:  Because He wants us to look for Him.
 
Encouraging Autonomy:
Child:  Mommy, why can’t we see Hashem?
Mom:  That’s a great question.  Why can’t we see Hashem?  What do you think?
 
In the case of my own daughter, she contributed that maybe Hashem was “testing us.”  I agreed with her that it can certainly be a test to listen to what He wants, or for some to believe that He exists. 
 
We discussed this challenge for a while, and then I concluded with the idea, with the concrete value that if we could openly see Hashem, it would not be such a challenge to do the right thing, as it would be obvious that He is watching us, and that He expects us to make the right choices.
 
But because we have to make choices without seeing Hashem, it is very precious to Him when we do the right thing, because it’s not always easy!  And that sometimes it can help to remember how much Hashem loves us, and appreciates how hard it is to do the right thing.
 
Hopefully, with her input, and a defined answer given in conclusion, she will take this knowledge with her for a lifetime, appreciating the unique flavor that she gives it.
 
An answer, a value, that is not simply one of mom’s and dad’s, but one she can truly call her own.

To be sure, accomplishments, abilities, interactions...can influence our respect and admiration for one another, shape, and enhance our relationships, or, at other times, bring disappointment along with other negative feelings.

Only looking at the one another's soul.

Who they themselves are, at the untainted, untapped, purest, deepest level.

And then, Adam knows Eve.

Man is constantly searching for meaning.  Yearning, striving for a relationship with a Higher Being.  Questioning its existence.
 
This yearning, striving and searching has a whole new intensity when devastation hits.
 
Judaism never assured 'protection' from tragedy.  If it did, we'd all be lining up to enter our local Jewish center, like Charlie with the golden ticket.
 
So beyond offering meaning and purpose to life, what indeed does Judaism offer to those who are struggling painfully?
 
Judaism offers the gift, the knowledge (or for others, the hope) that every occurrence on this earth, from the fluttering of a leaf off a tree, to a tragedy that changes lives forever, has a reason.  Is part of a bigger picture that we usually cannot see.
 
It can give solace and peace when we feel vulnerable and unprotected in a sea of madness:  Judaism does not offer protection, it offers a solid ground, an island of comforting trust when we fall, bereft.
 
Of course, despite this knowledge, as mortal human beings, the questions still beg to be answered, and the pain is so horrifically real and strong.
 
Which leaves me in awe of the great people we meet over the course of a lifetime, who go on with the comfort- or searching- of this trust.
Of the people struggling with their pain.
Of the people who live with both.
 
To hear my father's answer of, "Thank G-d", in response to my anxious, how are you? in the midst of devastating loss- is to know greatness.
To see a girl who encountered tragedy too early in life, celebrate someone else's joy- is to know greatness.
To know that a father who has just buried his child, with a broken heart proclaims G-d's wholeness- is to know greatness.
To embrace a mother suffering from this pain, who starts to comfort you- is to experience strength.
 
Judaism places much emphasis on getting things done- this I learn from those who move fluidly through its actions.
The Trust part- this I learn from those who struggle.

A correspondence my colleague, Rabbi Aaron Moss, had with one of his congregants...

Thanks for the invite, but I won't be able to attend your Simchas Torah celebration this Saturday night. I have booked tickets to a game and I don't want to miss it. Anyway, I only go to synagogue for the High Holydays. You don't expect me to give up a game for another prayer service, do you?
 
Answer:

I promised to tell you some of the conversation I had with the great author, Mr. Herman Wouk, when I met with him briefly this past summer. "One of the guiding principles of my life has been Torah and Derech Eretz," he said as he was about to leave my car. What that statement truly means takes a lifetime of working on oneself to fully grasp. However, let me attempt to translate that statement. Torah - The practice and study of Jewish Law - (Torah isn't just another subject, it must be applied to your daily life to truly comprehend its meaning). Derech Eretz - Literally "Ways of the World." Better translated - Acting with consideration and kindness to one’s fellow human beings, and in so doing, fulfilling the will of God. "American Jewry excels in Derech Eretz," Mr. Wouk concluded. "They need to be introduced to Torah. May you have much success in being a leader to the Jewish people."

Have you ever gone to Palm Springs, CA during August? Ever experienced 120⁰ weather? Since I hadn’t and the prices for hotels were ridiculously cheap, there I was in the heat of Palm Springs, with my four kids limping through the outdoor living desert museum wondering how the Jews did this for forty years after they left Egypt. However, I digress, the real reason I went to the desert on that summer day was to meet the author of “The Caine Mutiny” and “Winds of War”, Mr. Herman Wouk.

At 94 (may he live and be well), Mr. Wouk still attends the daily 7 a.m. (Shachrit) Prayer service at Chabad of Palm Springs. That’s where I met him and had the opportunity to give him a ride from the synagogue to his modest home. I must admit I was intimidated. This world-famous and wealthy author who still has the humility to pray to his G-d every morning and observe his Mitzvot for over 75 years is someone I have tremendous respect for. Meeting this truly great man will stay in my memory for as long as I live. As the New Year approaches, I suggest a Rosh Hashanah resolution for anyone wanting to have a better understanding of their Judaism to read Wouk’s, “This Is My G-d” and the “Will to Live On”. May you and your families be blessed with a sweet New Year. More on what we spoke about next week…

He squealed in delight as he merrily skipped into the little red car. 
 
I had a bad cold, and so I was not driving my four-year-old son to school as usual; a friend of mine offered to do it for me.  In her little red car.  And as I watch him, thrilled to experience something seemingly so ordinary and unexciting, I realized that for him, in his unjaded little mind, this was not a mere change of cars, this was extroardinary and exciting.  Perhaps it was the new color, new smell, new textures, different engine noises. 
 
But children grow up.  And as we get older, and get caught up in the bigger struggles, it becomes difficult to savor life's littler events as possible sources of happiness.  They tend to seem trivial in the constant pursuit of it. 
 
So we immerse ourselves in the pursuit of the bigger things.  We keep waiting to be happily-ever-after.  But life is not a fairytale.  It involves an eclectic mix of emotions, from joy to sadness, gratitude to grief, humility to euphoria.  It can involve holes that can never be filled.
 
However, we can always plant little seeds of happiness.  Even if the joy that blooms is there for just a few moments in time.  It is when happiness seems most elusive, that we need to find it in these little moments more than ever.  A real look at the beautiful mountains that surround me.  A few moments alone in the warmth of the sun.  A little brown box discovered at the door.  A tall glass of tea with a friend.  Running barefoot with a child from the scorching, slippery sand to the cold comfort of the dark green grass.  
 
We all have little red cars in our lives.  Let's go out and use them.  Make a conscious effort to experience them, and get little sprinklings of joy.

With a foreign accent, he joyfully chanted the ancient yet accessible Hebrew words, his olive-skin fingers pointing to their letters, etched in ink.  Around him stood the others, local residents, with local accents and lighter skin, all of them connected on this sunny Saturday morning, in the sameness of the words they all read.
 
Divine words that have guided, comforted and continue to give life, to an immortal people.

He was visiting our quiet city of Thousand Oaks, saw our “Chabad Jewish Center” sign, and stepped inside to celebrate Shabbat with us.  He offered to read that week’s designated portion from our Torah Scroll.
 
And so, there he was, chanting the words with a Sephardic lilt, thousands of miles away from his own, in a synagogue different than his own, and yet he was home. 
 
At home with this precious piece of parchment, containing the exact same 79,847 hand-written words as the many others across the globe, from Israel to Australia, from Toledo to Thousand Oaks.
 
At home with words that transcend cultures, time, and space.
 
No matter where you roam, the sacred scrolls are the same. 

I love shopping at Whole Foods.  It turns the necessity of food-shopping into a luxury.  From the cozy, dim lighting and glossy wooded floors, to the fresh and fragrant herbs, fruits and vegetables, to the newest holistic vitamins and cosmetics, to the creative varieties of foods all beautifully displayed, and of course, the hot tea...it is an experience for the senses!
 
I love the concept of "Whole Foods."  And their idea of "Whole Pantry" and "Whole Body"...  What would constitute a "Whole Life"?  How does one define that?
 
I like to think that "whole" means "complete."  Including the best of all worlds, within the realm of possibility.  So that a "whole" apple would be brand-new, vibrant in color, crisp, juicy and organic.  So that a "whole" exfoliating spa treatment would be naturally fragrant, soothing, and full of benificial minerals.

I like to think that a "Whole Life" would include both physical and spiritual wellness.  The physical efforts enhance the quality of life, and the spiritual efforts give meaning to living it. 
 
And that G-d created us with an innate desire to find meaning, so that we might use it to come closer to Him.
 
A "Whole Life" in the spiritual realm means different things for different people.  For some, it means improving, enhancing their closeness.  For others, it means continuing to search for Him.
 
But for all of us, a "Whole Life" must include actualizing our awareness. 
 
Learning about the nutritional value, and then eating it.
Wanting the benefits of exercise, and then doing it.
 
Searching for Him, and never giving up the search.
Yearning for more closeness, and then doing the things that bring us closer.
 
Taking care of the body, taking care of the soul.
 
Including the best of both worlds, within the realm of possibility.
 
Striving to live a Whole Life.

When I was a child, living in New York, my relationship with my parents involved the constancy of their presence in day-to-day life.  Now, living in California, it involves the constancy of their absence in day-to-day life.  And it’s always sad to travel back home after visiting with them, back to that awareness. 
 
Because I don't have their day-to-day presence, other dimensions in our relationship have become more distinct. 
 
Like the power of not only feeling their love, but knowing of it.
 
I can’t talk to them (often).

I can't see them.
 
They are not a physical part of my day-to-day life.
 
Yet, as I live far away, carpooling my children, celebrating Shabbat, going shopping, or sitting in a park, the knowledge of their love surrounds me with feelings of well-being. 
 
Just knowing that there is someone who loves - on good days and on bad days, when my life feels serene, and when my life seems like a mad jungle - makes me feel secure and cared about in a sometimes-jumbled world. 
 
And these feelings of security, of being loved and cared about...transcend all that is transient.  No one and nothing can take that love away.
 
I think about the 'parent' of us all. 
 
Sometimes, we might feel that He is intensely with us.  Acknowledge Him.  Talk to Him. 
 
And then there are times when we might feel intensely far away, in the middle of stressful times. 
When we don't always acknowledge Him.  Talk to Him.  See Him.  
 

But to know, or even to hope, that we are loved, cared by Him, during weathers of sun and storm, can make all the difference.

Throughout history, people tended to glorify certain others, admiring their certain strength.  In tenacity or talent.  Stature or character.    
 
Today's world seems to have shifted focus, primarily infatuated with anybody who is famous. 
 
Thousands of teenagers dream of Hollywood, countless crave the details of those that live in that elusive world.
 
Millions of Americans, indeed millions around the world, are obsessed with the president, the vice president, and the many other political figures making life-changing decisions with a few written or spoken words.  
 
We study their words, their faces, their lives, ten times over. 

There is something mesmerizing about these figures that are larger than life.
 
But there is something extraordinary about the figures that actually live in your life.
 
They may never get a lifetime achievement award, an academy award, become a fashion icon, or the president.
 
They are the heroes and heroines in the things that go unnoticed.
 
The kindergarten teacher who has an infinite amount of patience for her students.  The friend who asks how you are-and really wants to know.  The clerk in the supermarket who consistently greets you with a smile, no matter the day, no matter the time. The father who works hard until ten o'clock at night to ensure that his children can get a good education.  The child who struggles with his inner demon, and wins.  The woman who experiences much pain in her life, but does not become a victim to it.

There are the figures who are larger than life.
And there are the figures in life who are large.
Large in unsung greatness.
 
Real heroes.
 
Let's notice them.

I'd like to share a story that Rebbetzin Chava Tombosky shared with us at our last Jewish Women's Circle Chanukah event, although the written words don't do justice to how she so eloquently expressed it:
 
Two Yeshiva boys were sent under the direction of the Lubavitcher Rebbe to the faraway Aleutian Islands, with the sole purpose of bringing the joy and light of Judaism to any Jews that lived there.
 
After a week of searching, they found not one Jew.  Despondent, they made one last attempt at the local elementary school.  They went to each classroom and asked, and each teacher told them that there were no Jewish children.  They entered the very last classroom, and asked the teacher if there were any Jewish children there.  She immediately answered no. 
 
A girl in the back raised her hand.  "Mommy, so we're not the only Jews in the world?!" little Stacy exclaimed to her mother/teacher.
 
The embarrassed mother quietly and quickly told the Yeshiva boys that she'd talk to them after class.
 
The now-revealed mother and daughter sat with the two Yeshiva boys that afternoon.  The mother confessed that she was not very comfortable with her Judaism, or expressing it with her daughter, as they were the only Jews on this Island, and it seemed easier to just put it aside.
 
They all talked for a while, the boys offering words of warm encouragement to explore their Jewish identity.  The mother bought some Jewish books and mezuzot.  She then asked the boys to offer some words of encouragement to her daughter, as they had to her.
 
The Yeshiva boys left the little girl with this thought:  "All around the world, women and girls bring in Shabbat by lighting candles on Friday afternoon, eighteen minutes before sunset.  But when they are lighting eighteen minutes before sunset, bringing in Shabbat in New York, it is not yet sunset, Shabbat in California, until three hours later, when the women then light the candles.  And then a few hours later, England lights and brings in Shabbat, and eventually Russia, and South America, and the entire world lights, and brings in Shabbat at different times." 
 
"The very last time zone is at the furthest point on earth, which is the Aleutian Islands.  And the Aleutian Islands is the very last place in the world every Friday, to have the opportunity to light Shabbat candles!  You and your mother have this opportunity-to usher in the light of Shabbat for the entire Aleutian Islands."
 
"You will also be the very last Jewish girl in the world each Friday, little Stacy, to usher in Shabbat with your Shabbat candles, completing this unifiying circle."
 
And with these words, the boys bid farwell to their new Jewish friends on the Island.
 
This story got me thinking-at first almost wistfully:  Wow, talk about people making a difference!  This mother and her daughter, two lone Jews, on this lone island, have a powerful opportunity-to be the last two Jewish women in the entire world to light the Shabbat candles, completing the circle!
 
But in truth, we all have the opportunity to complete the circle.
 
Like a child who might occasionally ask her father if he loves her as much as her sister, we might wonder at times how much G-d loves and values us-as individuals, amongst millions of others.  And what is the reply a loving father gives his child?  He does not assure her of equality, but rather replies, "My love for you is different than my love for your sister.  She is my only She in the whole wide world, and You are my only You in the whole wide world-there is no one with your uniqueness."
 
We are one big, beautiful world of millions of Jewish women, united in our sameness-of bringing light to the world with our candle-lighting, always on Friday evenings, always with a blessing.

And yet, we are each, independently, an entire world-comprised of our unique emotions, talents, and thinking, serving G-d with our unique flavors, connecting, doing, feeling and experiencing with our own unique ways.
 
Some light white candles, others light colored.
 
Some meditate during the blessing, some meditate in the precious moments that follow.
 
Some talk from a place of gratitude, others from sorrow.
 
Some with their minds, some with their hearts.
 
And some with both.
 
G-d is yearning for You, the precious world called You, dear reader, to invite Him into your home.  To talk to Him about your gratitude, perhaps your confusion, even one's dissappointment in Him. 
 
This Friday afternoon as the sun sets, He is yearning and waiting for little Stacy, for me...for You-to light the Shabbat candles on Friday night, completing the unique weekly time cycle of You, your World, in your unique way.
 
The circle is not complete without you.
 
Shabbat Shalom.

Click here to see Rebbetzin Shula's article on thejewishwoman.org, a project of chabad.org:

http://www.jewishto.org/theJewishWoman/article_cdo/aid/790356/jewish/Confessions-From-A-Rebbetzin.htm