An Open Letter to the Simple Son

An open letter to the simple son

Dear Tom,

Your mother and I are so happy to hear that you’ll be joining us again for seder this year. I know that now that you’re on your own you get to choose how to spend the holiday, and we feel blessed every year when our boys come back. We’re so excited.

We miss you guys all the time, and I hope this doesn’t come out wrong, we especially missed you the last week or so. For so many years you made the days before Pesach much easier for us. Your talent for helping others with a smile, for just always knowing what had to be done next – it really made such a difference.

I was thinking about this a lot this week, and not just for selfish reasons. I was thinking how the “Erev Pesach” season was always your time to shine. Whether you were helping us at home or helping someone in the neighborhood or just using your natural hustle to make a few bucks – you were always busy in such positive ways. Your face glowed with pride and simcha even when you were exhausted and dirty.

It feels important to say that we noticed you at your best, because I know there are other parts of Pesach where your face didn’t radiate the same satisfaction. I’m thinking here of our time at the seder. I remember how for so many years when given the chance to speak, each of you boys found different ways to participate. One of your brothers seemed to always be challenging us and maybe seeking negative attention. I could see you felt a little uncomfortable then. One of your brothers was always demonstrating scholarship and insight with his questions. And when you had a chance to share, your simple “Mah Zot? What’s this?”  – Mommy and I were always just as proud of your participation as everyone else’s. But I could see in your eyes, you didn’t feel that way.

I’m not sure that my words will come out right at the seder so I want to share this here, in the calm before that great night. Two thoughts:

First, I just want you to know that we never expected all our boys to be equally great at everything. We tried our very best, perhaps with some successes and some failures, to help each of you to find areas where you could shine. Yes, one of your brothers is a scholar, and yes, a typical seder is a great place to be if you are a Torah scholar. But that’s not the entirety of the Pesach experience. How many people wouldn’t have hand matzah if it wasn’t for your hard work? How many people have you helped with Chaverim? How many actual lives have you saved on Hatzalah, in the middle of the night, on a moment’s notice, with a smile? We knew back when you were little that you were the kind of guy that we could count on and that could make things happen. You used that natural hustle for good even then, and you never stopped. Maybe the Seder is a place where the scholar gets more attention, but hustle is a talent, and responsibility for others is a talent, and the drive to find another way to help is a talent too. We’re just as proud of all those contributions.

Second, and more importantly, what makes you think that “Mah Zot? What’s this?” isn’t just as critical, or maybe even more critical, than anything your brothers have to say? You know, there are two definitions to the word simple. One is, “unsophisticated,” but another is, “pure, unsullied, unadulterated.” Your question is a pure reflection of your curiosity, your yearning to connect. It has a rawness about it that is  – real.

To make this point let me ask you a question – which type of faith is “better”; the faith of the sophisticated academic who struggled with understanding how the sciences work together with the biblical story of creation and arrived at a place of faith, or the unsophisticated faith of the masses who believe because that’s how they were raised, uncomplicated, unapologetic, and without the need to find some “synthesis” between these two world views?

We’re not the Creator so of course we can’t really know which is “better,” but I think just through some simple observations we can note that the “simple” faith, dare I say pure faith, is more likely to impact behavior. And we can also note that for our people it’s not SO long ago that hundreds of Jews with that “simple” and unsophisticated faith willingly chose to cling to that faith, even if doing so meant death. There is nothing simple about simple faith.

And I think that’s how I’ve always thought about your ‘simple’ question. It has simple purity to it.

One more thing your question makes me think about is the word Zot – this. In Chumash when we find the word Zeh or Zot Rashi often comments that the thing being spoken about was right there in front of the speaker and they were pointing to it. That makes me think that your question, “What’s this?” can really be about everything you see in front of you. The whole beautiful seder table. Everyone gathered around. In a way, the question can be, “How do we have a night that has ‘all of this’ all of the silver, all the pomp, all the simcha of family being together, when the night is about the suffering in Egypt, and the many people that have come against us ‘in every generation’ and even right now?” What’s this about?

I’m sure that the skeptic would have his answer and the scholar would have his answer and they would both be filled with insight and wisdom. But right now, I’m just your dad so I’ll give a dad’s answer.

What’s this about? It’s about you. It’s about whatever questions are rattling around in that beautiful, pure soul of yours. It’s about helping you see that you are as vitally needed as any of your brothers. It’s about knowing that even if the seder doesn’t feel to you like your place to shine, we see all the places and all the ways you do stand out. It’s about knowing that our seder, our family, would be incomplete without you.

Can’t wait to see you.

Much love, Tatty

___________________

A few Pesach links –

Pesach blogs from years past:

An Open Letter to the Wise Son

An Open Letter to the Wicked Son

How to Make Your Seder Not Lame

Rabbi Lopiansky’s important Passover Letter to My Child. (“My father reads that every year and he cries every time,” Shira Soskil to her entire 10^th grade class.)

And for no reason at all other than it brings me nostalgic joy to know this exists outside my memory, The Ballad of the Four Sons to the tune of Oh My Darling Clementine.