How to Protect Our Children

October 25th, 2002 
Rabbi Gary S. Creditor

 

I began writing this sermon while waiting for my car to be inspected yesterday morning. I was sitting there perusing a folder of resource material for my Confirmation course with the tenth graders on Jewish theology. Accidentally I read the following passage in a book by David Wolpe, "When Your Child Asks About God:"

I recall a public dialogue I had with Judith Viorst, author of many books for children and adults. We were talking about her wonderful book Necessary Losses, which explores the losses adults have to endure in order to grow. I asked what had been the most painful loss for her personally. She pondered for a minute, then said, "The loss of the illusion that I could protect my children."

The television was not turned on in the lounge, so I could not hear the news of the arrest of the possible snipers. Therefore you can imagine how this answer struck me. It doesn't matter the age of our children and their location. The chilling words of these murderers have pierced us all, almost like bullets themselves.

So I took out my pad and began listing the illusions of which I/we cannot protect our children, in totally random order. Each entry reminded me of so many episodes and incidents in the lives of my children. I cannot protect my children from:

• Failing a test.
• Falling down in the schoolyard and scraping their knee.
• A broken heart of their first love.
• Exposure to drugs.
• Exposure to alcohol and tobacco.
• My short fuse after a difficult day.
• Early sexual activity.
• Bullies.
• An unfair teacher.
• A reckless driver.
• Mortality.
• Injustice and evil.

If this was my classroom, together we could probably extend this list, but this is enough. I think of our granddaughter Ariel, almost seven months old, and when Menachem, Yonina and Tzeira were newborns. While rocking my three in my arms I said things to them that now I know I could never say to Ariel. The above list is just representative. We couldn't protect our children from missing school Monday and Tuesday, the canceling of so many activities, and the fear that struck in our hearts. No matter how much we love them, our children and grandchildren, nieces and nephews, how much we can really protect them is truly an illusion. It is painful for us to accept this truth. This week has taught us that truth.

But it would not do to dwell on this alone. I next wrote another list, which I entitled: Replace illusion with a positive vision of life. If I couldn't protect my children from the bruises of life, what did I give them has enabled them to grow in the man and women they have become and that I share with you. This is my second list:

• A sense of their self worth.
• Unconditional love.
• A warm, fuzzy home.
• A sense of righteous indignation.
• An articulated value system, even if it flies in the face of society.
• A moral and ethical backbone.
• A true picture of life's cycle, from beginning to end.
• Faith in a loving God.
• Knowledge that the root of evil lies in the choices made by people.
• The desire to choose a positive life, in all ways.
• The faith that they are inherently good and can do good.
• That none of us are perfect, but will be the absolute best we can.

Like my first list, this one too could have been longer. I remember times in the past years when I wanted to cuddle by children into my arms and surround them physically so that they would not know pain. I learned that I couldn't protect them from the pain. But I could give them love. While I could not protect them in one way, I could at least give them chizuk, a full measure of inner strength, and that would be the ultimate protection which I could give them. This would have to be enough. Then, they, too, would have to grow, just as I have had to grow as their parent, in my realization of what I could and could not do.

My college major was Far Eastern Religions. Buddhism teaches us that our lives are an illusion. When we relinquish that illusion and break the chain of earthly existence, we reach nirvana, the obliteration of the self. Judaism rejects this. "Here-and-now" is the true reality. Through Torah's teaching we have a profound understanding of reality, and our place in it. Torah's stories and God's commandments – to the degree that we adopt them and live them – shape and direct our reality. Torah gives us a moral compass, a spiritual comfort and personal security that embraces and steadies us in a world that seems like a house of cards. By living righteous lives we better society, repair its breaches, and prepare our children to be upright and secure adults. Standing before the Eternal, every day I pray for strength and wisdom. In reciting Alaynu daily I proclaim my faith that some day evil will be vanquished and removed from the world. I affirm that faith for myself and present it to my children by being their living model of faith. I realize the illusions of life and its realities. I invite them to change, repair and improve the world. Some day, I believe, the Messianic Age will be here on earth for all humanity and evil will disappear forever. That will be the true protection for us all.

Amen.