This week, I spent getting our youngest daughter, our 19-year-old, ready to head off to university in New York City. After picking her up from camp at the beginning of the week, there was laundry, doctors appointments, shopping, course registration, housing registration, medical forms to be submitted, and all the stuff that college students need for dorm life, and creating a new home while they are away at school. Finally, with all that finished, and a car loaded we drove down to New York and encountered hurricane Henri. We came to New York very late in the afternoon, dropped off her duffle bags and suitcase, and headed uptown to my sister and brother-in-law's upper west side apartment. We were wet, tired, hungry, and very tired. The next day, while the rain from Tropical Storm Henri continued to fall, we got her squared away and then attended a couple of orientation sessions. There was something for just the students, just the parents and both. Even though this was the third of four children, and I knew the drill when it comes to preparing and dropping children off at university. This felt different. Ten years ago, I brought our eldest to University by myself, I suppose I really didn’t know what I was doing. But ten years ago, our world was a very different place. Besides she was in a campus setting in the middle of nowhere in Upstate New York. The second daughter, both my wife and I brought her down to school, and although it was in New York City because the responsibilities were shared and my wife happily attended many of the orientation sessions. It was also pre-Covid. Knowing my wife wanted me to attend these orientation sessions; I went. To be honest, I wanted to hear the University administrators, teachers, and campus officials speak about the students' safety, security health, and welfare. I wanted to know the policies about Covid, and testing in order to ensure the safety and welfare of not only my daughter but all the daughters who are attending school. There was a long presentation about Covid, masks, testing, and vaccination requirements. It was very different from several governors of southern states and their stubborn refusal to permit school mask mandates and the safety and welfare of its students.
This week's Parsha is Ki Tavoh. For the past several Parshiot, Moshe has been listing and explaining all the precepts and laws. Last week's Parsha and the first part of Ki Tavoh explain the rewards. We will inherit the land; we will keep the land. Our enemies will be rendered weak. We will be fruitful and multiply. However, the second half of the Parshah explains all the curses that would befall us if we neglect to observe these laws. Every curse, of course, is the diametric opposite of the previous blessings. So if we were promised bountiful harvests and many children, then our curse will be drought, famine, and bareness. Traditionally, the Aliyot that contain the curses are read in a softer voice. However, as horrible as these curses are, we must understand that it is up to us. We can either follow these laws or not, and as a result, we will bear the consequences of our actions. This is not necessarily a bad lesson for us as well as our children to learn. We are responsible for our actions, and we must bear responsibility for the consequences of those actions.
One of the curses is most poignant in light of listening to Trump. Arur Mashgeh Iveir Ba'Derech, Va'Amar Kol Ha'Am Amen - Accursed is one who causes a blind person to go astray on the road. And the entire nation said 'Amen" (Deut 27:18). If read this literally, it seems the verse is speaking about, a guide or maybe a seeing-eye dog that would lead the blind astray. However, this curse is symbolic. We know that Torah is tantamount to light, to spiritual light, and the word Derech (way) is usually in combination with the Way of the Lord (God's Laws). On a metaphorical level, the curse is upon those leaders of a community that causes the less knowledgeable to go astray. If that knowledge causes those who are blind (re: those who are in the dark or without light) to go astray, then that leader should be cursed. Implicit to that statement is that the one who causes the blind to go astray sees the light, has the knowledge, knows better, and teaches or guides the community away from God.
Our Talmudic Sages offer an Aggadah about the teachers/Rabbis who were the leaders of their communities. "If there are two teachers, one who covers much ground but is not exact, and one who does not cover much ground but is exact, Rav Dimi b. Nehardea maintained that the one who is exact and does not cover much ground is to be appointed. The reason? A mistake once implanted (in the mind or in behavior) remains [a mistake]. (Talmud Baba Batrah 21a-b). The Talmudic sages essentially understood the first rule in education. It is terribly difficult to undo that which has already been incorrectly taught. It appears that the Talmudic Sages also understood quite a bit about how impressionable college students can be. It appears that the Talmudic Sages also understood the power of those in trusted positions of authority, teachers, administrators, some elected officials, and the media. So, standing on a Manhattan sidewalk in front of our daughter’s dorm and my car parked, I hugged and kissed my youngest daughter goodbye. Through smiles and tear-filled eyes, I told my youngest daughter what I have told her and her three siblings their whole lives. I reminded her how she was raised, I reminded her to use her common sense: don’t walk alone in New York at night, don’t take the subways alone at night, be aware of surroundings, avoid parks at night, wear a mask when going indoors. I reminded her that she can call me at any time of day for anything good, bad or just to say “hi”. I reminded her that I won’t call her five times a day as I never want to be the overbearing parent that doesn’t give a child room to grow. Finally with one last hug and kiss, and a wipe away of her tear, I was about to give one more piece of last-second fatherly advice, something inspirational. However, my daughter beat me to it. She smiled and said to me what I have been saying to her for the past week as we prepared for this moment. “Yes, Abba, I know, my job is to study, take classes that I enjoy, and, most of all, don’t do stupid. I know you spent your life teaching me ‘to avoid stupid decisions and not do stupid’, I know… you taught me well.” With one last hug and kiss, I watched her head off to her next orientation session, and I realized that as she began this new chapter of her life; she was where she was supposed to be.
Rav Yitz
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