Parenting

"A child’s first understanding of the world is through the eyes of their parents. The way a mother and father speak, the way they interact, the patience in their voice, the kindness in their touch—all of it becomes the foundation of how a child perceives reality. If they see warmth, they believe the world is a warm place. If they see anger, they will learn to fear. If they see love, they will know how to love in return.

The Torah does not see parenting as merely a responsibility; it is a sacred avodah, a lifelong mission that demands constant growth, self-refinement, and awareness. The words of the Shema, “V’shinantam l’vanecha” (Devarim 6:7), command us to teach our children, but it does not end there. Chazal explain that the root of the word “v’shinantam” means to sharpen, to engrave—because Torah is not meant to be superficially transmitted. It must be embedded into the essence of our children, etched deeply into their hearts until it becomes part of their very being.

But how does one engrave Torah into a child? The answer is not in long speeches, nor in stern rebuke. Children do not absorb words as much as they absorb presence. The way a father cries on Yom Kippur, the way a mother lights the Shabbat candles with devotion—those moments leave an impact more than any lesson ever could. A child who grows up watching their parents run to do a mitzvah, who sees their father wake up early to learn, who notices their mother’s tefillah whispered with sincerity, such a child will naturally learn what it means to serve Hashem.

And yet, there are moments when a parent feels broken. When the child refuses to listen, when the path is unclear, when exhaustion takes over and the doubts begin to creep in. “Am I doing enough?” “Am I failing my children?” The Yetzer Hara thrives on these thoughts, whispering that all the effort is for nothing, that one’s struggles go unseen. But the truth is that no tefillah goes unanswered, no effort is wasted. Every act of patience, every gentle word, every moment of self-control plants a seed. And while some seeds sprout immediately, others take years to grow, but they are never lost.

Chazal teach that a person is judged not only by their own actions but by the ripple effects of their influence. When a parent instills Torah in a child, that Torah does not remain within that one child alone—it carries on for generations. The tears of a mother praying for her son, the words of encouragement a father gives to his daughter—these do not disappear. They enter the neshama, they shape destinies, they build worlds.

There are parents who struggle because they themselves did not grow up with this guidance. They wonder how they can give what they never received. But Hashem gives each person the strength to become what they never had. One who grew up without warmth can learn to give warmth. One who grew up without Torah can build a home of Torah. There is no such thing as a person who is too weak to change, too unlearned to teach, too broken to build. Hashem sees every ounce of effort and rejoices in it more than we can ever imagine.

A child will not always listen to what is said, but they will never fail to observe what is done. The way a parent reacts to difficulty, the way they respond to stress, the way they speak about others—all of it is absorbed. And when a parent makes a mistake, when frustration overcomes them and a harsh word slips out, the greatest lesson they can give their child is to show how to fix it. To apologize. To admit, “I was wrong.” Because a child who sees their parents striving to grow will learn that growth is the goal of life. Not perfection—growth.

Rav Wolbe writes that the role of a parent is to guide a child according to their nature, to see who they are and help them become who they are meant to be. It is not about molding them into our own vision but rather about uncovering the beauty that already exists within them. Every child is a world of potential, and Hashem entrusts parents with the avodah of bringing that potential to light.

There will be moments of frustration, moments of exhaustion, moments of doubt. But a parent who keeps pushing forward, who keeps davening, who keeps striving, is never alone. Hashem stands beside them, strengthening them, guiding them, whispering, “Keep going.” And the day will come when the child they raised will stand tall, filled with Torah and yirat Shamayim, and the parent will look back and realize that every tear, every tefillah, every ounce of effort was worth it.

Because in the end, the greatest thing a parent can give their child is not just love or knowledge—it is the knowledge that they were raised with love, that they were guided with patience, and that they were brought up with Torah as their foundation. And such a child will carry that foundation with them forever.
"