Letting Them Fly – Nitzavim-Va-yeilekh 5786

I have a special skill that not that many people know about.

What do you got? Baking? No.

Sewing? Definitely not.

Playing the guitar? Sadly, no.

I am a baby whisperer.

Some of you already know this.

If you have a baby, bring them to shul, and I will happily hold them for you during kiddush. One of the best parts of being a rabbi.

I have developed a pretty refined technique over the years. There is a particular rocking motion. 

And I can do the football hold if needed. I have references. You can ask some parents and grandparents who are here.

Of course, I tell people that I am doing it for them. Giving the parents a break. Calming the baby.

But the truth is, I’m kinda doing it for me.

Because once an infant settles into your shoulder, there is almost nothing better.

The little sounds. That baby smell. You feel their breathing slow down, and somehow you slow down too.

It’s a pretty remarkable thing.

***

Speaking of infants, this year our Billy Dalwin Preschool of Temple Emunah has opened a new classroom for babies as young as three months old.

It is called Roshanim. The tadpoles.

And on Tuesday, I saw a dad dropping off his infant there.

He was pretty emotional. And I understood why. It was one of the first big steps for his child. But in some ways, it was a first step for him too.

We talked for a little while, and suddenly I had this flashback.

All three of our kids went to the incomparable Billy Dalwin Preschool of Temple Emunah.

I remember dropping them off here. Then kindergarten at JCDS.

Then the Gann Academy for high school.

Then college.

And now, somehow, one of our kids is finishing college, the other a junior, and our oldest is married and just started law school. Crazy. Over the last couple of weeks, our house went from complete bedlam — clothes, boxes, suitcases, everybody sorting out what belonged where and what needed to go where — to considerably quieter.

Given the state of some of the rooms, I would not yet use the word “orderly.”

But, thankfully, they are all planning to come home Friday for Rosh Hashanah. But standing there with that dad on Tuesday reminded me that these moments keep coming.

Roshanim. Preschool. Kindergarten. Middle school. High school. College. Even law school.

Each one is different. But each contains a little bit of the same experience:

Our children take another step out into the world. And somehow, we have to take that step too.

***

Which may be why this week’s double parashah feels so perfectly timed each year with the start of the school year.

The first portion begins: אַתֶּם נִצָּבִים הַיּוֹם כֻּלְּכֶם “You are standing here today, all of you.” Nitzavim. Standing.

And then the next parashah begins: וַיֵּלֶךְ מֹשֶׁה “And Moses went.”

Vayelekh. Going. There is something powerful in those two names alone. First we stand. Then we go. And Moses is living through perhaps the greatest transition of his life.

For forty years, these have been his people. He brought them out of Egypt. He taught them. He defended them. He listened to them complain.

A lot.

And now they are going somewhere he cannot go.

So Moses calls Joshua forward: וַיִּקְרָא מֹשֶׁה לִיהוֹשֻׁעַ וַיֹּאמֶר אֵלָיו לְעֵינֵי כָל יִשְׂרָאֵל חֲזַק וֶאֱמָץ “Moses called Joshua and said to him in the sight of all Israel: Be strong and courageous.”

It is striking that Moses does this publicly. He does not simply tell Joshua privately, “You’re ready.”

He tells the whole community: Trust him. Follow him. He’s got this.

And then the Midrash, the Sifrei, notices something even more important. The Midrash imagines that Moses is struggling with this transition himself. He had hoped that one of his own sons might succeed him as leader. But that is not what happens. Joshua will lead the people forward.

And yet, Moses does something remarkable. “נִתְגַּבֵּר כֹּחוֹ שֶׁל מֹשֶׁה Moses gathers his strength.” And once he finds that strength, he uses it to strengthen Joshua. The Midrash connects that inner moment directly to Moses saying, ḥazak ve-ematz, “Be strong and courageous,” in front of all Israel. (Sifrei Devarim 305:1)

I love that. Because sometimes the person who has to find courage first is the parent. We have to find enough strength inside ourselves to give somebody else confidence. Enough trust not to hand them all of our anxieties.

To look at them and say: You can do this. Go.

***

And Moses had been preparing Joshua for this moment for a long time. Earlier in the Torah, when God first tells Moses to appoint Joshua, God says: “וְסָמַכְתָּ אֶת יָדְךָ עָלָיו Place your hand upon him.”

Singular. But when Moses actually does it, the Torah says: “וַיִּסְמֹךְ אֶת יָדָיו עָלָיו He places his hands upon him.”

Both of them. Rashi picks up on that tiny change. He says Moses gave to Joshua בְּעַיִן יָפָה, generously, more than he had been commanded to give. And then comes this wonderful image: כִּכְלִי מָלֵא וְגָדוּשׁ

Moses made Joshua like a vessel filled to overflowing. He poured his wisdom into him generously. (Rashi on Numbers 27:23)

Maybe that is one of the great tasks of parenting. Fill our children with love. With values. With resilience. With Jewish experiences and Jewish learning. With enough confidence to make their own decisions. With some common sense, we hope.

And with the knowledge that there is somewhere to come home to. And then comes the harder part. We have to let them use what we gave them.

*****

There is a beautiful Israeli song that has become almost an anthem for this type of moment, Arik Einstein’s Uf Gozal, “Fly, little bird.”

The song captures that moment when the young bird leaves the nest. It is an analogy for children leaving home and beginning independent lives, while the parents are left with both hope and worry and an empty space in the nest.

That is what makes the song so moving. The bird is ready. The parent may be a little less ready. And perhaps that is how it is supposed to be.

*****

Tomorrow our Religious School begins a new year. All around us, children and young adults are beginning again. New classrooms. New schools. New campuses. And their parents are beginning something new too.

Which brings me back to that dad I stood with on Tuesday morning, dropping his infant off in Roshanim. For his child, it was one small beginning.

For him, it was a beginning too. There will be many more. And maybe Moses gives us something to carry into all of them. Fill them up. Give them what we can.

Tell them, ḥazak ve-ematz. Be strong and courageous. And then, when the moment comes, find enough courage in ourselves to let them fly.

Fortunately, we do not have to do that alone. We have families, friends, and community to support us.

Or, at least, you have rabbis who are available to hold the baby. And occasionally, the parent too — metaphorically.

May all our little birds find the strength to fly. May we find the strength to let them.

And may this new year bring all of us, those setting out and those watching them go, safe journeys, open skies, and places of love to come home to.