Fatherly Assistance

The other day, I was sitting at a Bar Mitzvah, and the father of the young boy got up to speak, as is customary. He spoke about the young boy going into manhood and how proud he is of him for all he has accomplished so far. He listed a few of his many qualities and went on to give thanks to his parents, his dear wife, and Hashem.

It was a really nice speech—emotional even, I’d say. His eyes were moist after he was done, and I felt the sincerity of his words.

What caught me was the way he spoke of his father—a wealthy man who helps out with anything financial: buying homes, paying for weddings, possibly even grocery bills. Almost full support. I’ve heard him speak on other occasions, and it’s become standard for him to praise his father, which is justly deserved.

It got me thinking of my own father and what type of speech I would give at my son’s Bar Mitzvah. My father died at 44 when I was just 20 years old. He left us no money (he didn’t have any) and pretty much left us to our own devices. Everything that I am today is because of him. I’ve heard people say that the next version of ourselves is our kids. I carry that with tremendous pride, dignity, and responsibility in order that the next version of him be an improved, enhanced, and upgraded version of both of us.

Yet how do I say thanks? How do I express my gratitude and appreciation to him? A, he isn’t even here to witness it, and B, how is he different from every other father out there? All of us owe everything to our fathers—we only exist because of them. How can I, at my son’s Bar Mitzvah, appreciate and acknowledge the uniqueness of my father like the above-mentioned father?

I think it’s fair to say that the pain we experience in our lives is something we don’t want others to go through, especially friends and family. Many times, what we lacked as children, we will overcompensate for and give to our child, even to the detriment of the child. For example, if as a child we were always told no, many of us will have a hard time saying no to our own children, even when it’s truly justified, because it brings up a pain within us that we don’t want to face, no matter the justification. Obviously, a balance needs to be found, and I’d assume this is something that most healthy parents struggle with.

I know I struggle with this. Would I give my child every whim that he or she desires—the very same ones I desired for so long and that even seemed unattainable to me, yet through hard work, grit, and toil managed to achieve? These struggles made me into the man I am today. Those built me. It’s part and parcel of who I am as a direct result of not getting it on a silver platter.

I believe my father made the ultimate sacrifice for me. He shaped, modeled, and molded his own behaviors for me to witness for the short 20 years I knew him (a punch in the gut!! I only knew him for 20 years! My own father?!? How sad!), and then got the hell out of the way. He said, “Yossi, you got this. Here, go make an upgraded version.” No help. No money. No discussing it with him when in doubt. Reach so deep within yourself that no matter the circumstances, it's on me to make it happen. There is no option to fail. There's only one way out, and that’s through winning.

There was this general and his army who were going around conquering country after country, with no one able to stop them. Any country they attempted to capture fell within a week. The secret was that as soon as they docked, he made his army burn down their own ships they had just arrived in, and so they knew that it was either do or die—there was no going back.

The truth is, while I realize its immense cost and self-sacrifice, the better version I've come up with is that I’ll be sticking around for a long time! We need to find a fusion of the two approaches.

If you think about it, Hashem kind of deals with us the same way. He provides the tools, the money, the resources, the master plan, etc., but He expects us to build the house. He won’t do it for us. He sent us down to prepare a home for Him here. He gave us the manual, but we can’t call Him every day asking for advice. It’s up to us to figure it out. It’s up to us to make this world a better version—a better model, a better rendition. And ultimately, I think we clearly see we need both of Us—it can’t be just Him, and it can’t be just us alone.

May we be meritorious and reach that state of unity with the latest version of our world—with Mashiach and the Third and final Bais Hamikdash, which will be a heavenly fire designed from our physical good deeds fused as one, speedily in our days.

-ISH