Honor Your Mother and Father
Yom Kippur - Yizkor 5760
By James Michael
Here's a question from a congregant: "How do you honor your father or your mother when there isn't very much to honor?" A shocking question. It took a while to get to the bottom of the issue: This man's mother had been emotionally abusive to him when he was a child, and it even continued when he was an adult. A truly sad, and serious problem. We know the Fifth Commandment - honor your father and mother; we feel duty-bound to observe it, and yet there may be a history that prevents us from doing so.
Just what do we owe our parents? You might be surprised to learn that the dimensions of what is required are quite limited. We are only required not to:
- contradict our parents publicly
- call them by their first names
- insult them or display anger toward them
- sit in our parent's chair.
A son or daughter can be compelled to support his parents, but only if they become destitute. That's it! Doesn't seem very arduous, does it? But what is amazing is that at the same time as these minimal laws were being developed, the Midrash-written during the same period-turned into an art.
For example, the rabbis saw a non-Jew, named Dama ben Netinah, as a particularly good role model about how to perform the mitzvah. It is related that Dama had a chance to make a very large profit on a sale of jewels. However, the key to the gems was under the pillow on which his father was sleeping. Instead of disturbing his father, Dama turned down the sale.
There is a deliberate tension between the minimal legal requirements and the midrashic elaboration on the mitzvah of honoring your parents. That is, some people might have difficulty in fulfilling more than the minimum requirements. The Talmud says that is okay, if their parents don't deserve more. In the majority of cases, however, we probably want to extend more than the minimum amount of respect we owe our parents. In that case, there is no limit to what we can do, or how we do it. We can and should go beyond the letter of the law.
The recent book Kaddish by Leon Wieseltier is about the author's confrontation with the Jewish mourner's prayer. But if we look closely, we can see that it tells how the author was able to resolve some issues which went unsettled through his father's life. As he did, he found a new meaning in honoring his parents, his father in particular.
Wieseltier grew up in an Orthodox home in Brooklyn. His father, a Holocaust survivor, had sent him to Yeshiva for his primary and high school education. And yet, after graduating from college, Wieseltier became estranged from Judaism. If he practiced any rituals, they were performed, at best, in a perfunctory manner. He doesn't say it openly, but Wieseltier implies that this was a source of conflict between him and his father. And yet, when his father died in 1996, Wieseltier decided that he was going to say Kaddish for the entire year. The book is a journal of his experience. He writes about his emotions, and about how he gets accustomed once again to the world of the synagogue. In the process, he touches an aspect of his father's values.
This book teaches that it is never too late to perform the Mitzvah of honoring your parents. Quite the contrary, saying Kaddish is a way of performing the mitzvah after our parents depart from this earth. And while there's no guarantee, it is possible that, like Wieseltier, you may be able to resolve some unfinished issues between yourself and your departed parents.
Over the years, I have encountered many people who don't see the need to say Kaddish for their parents. This book provides two important reasons why we should: it benefits the souls of the dead, and it's even more beneficial for us.
One of the most striking facets of honoring your parents is by not sitting in a parent's chair. It's hard to understand why this was so important, unless sitting in a parent's chair was seen as an attempt to usurp his or her authority. However, it is possible that when a son or daughter finally is permitted to sit in a parent's chair, it marked a right of passage.
My father died in 1992, after a long battle with cancer. Shortly before he died, my brother traveled from Denver to spend his last Thanksgiving with him. He planned and cooked a magnificent dinner, set the table with the finest china and table cloth, and lit candles in the center. Then he got my father dressed in a new robe and slippers and brought him in a wheelchair to the table. When he saw what had been done for him, my father's eyes filled with tears.
My brother wanted to put Dad at the head of the table, but Dad said he would be more comfortable at side. My brother sat at the head instead. At one point, my father looked at him and smiled. In his eyes was the understanding that he was looking at one of the new patriarchs of the family. As we read in Ecclesiastes: One generation goes, and another comes, but the earth forever stands.
There is always time to give our parents at least the minimum amount of honor which is required by Jewish law. However as we relate to them, as we honor them, we will sense that we are also honoring God's Divine Presence.
At the hour of solemn memory, consider how you observe the mitzvah of honoring your parents. And emerge from this Day of Atonement strengthened in your determination to continue its fulfillment. As you do, you will bring lasting honor to your parents, and to all who have gone to their eternal reward in whose memories we pray. AMEN.
Rabbi James R. Michaels was ordained in 1974. He has served congregations in Minnesota, New York City, Northeast Pennsylvania, and currently is spiritual leader of Congregation Beth Israel in Flint, MI. Throughout his career, he has been involved in social action projects and inter-religious activities. He also has extensive experience in mental health chaplaincy, and is currently studying to obtain a D. Minn. degree from Graduate Theological Institute. He is married to Karen Markowitz; they have five grown children.
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