Imagine the waiting line to see the king. Many people of all backgrounds and positions are each waiting for a moment of the king’s time. The king’s son, crown prince of the country, takes his place at the back of the line. A minister comes over and asks: “What is his royal highness doing at the back of the line? The king is your father! You can go in at any time! Why wait in a line with everybody else?” This is the meaning of, “You are children to Hashem, your G-d.” He is our Heavenly Father, and, as such, we are privileged. We do not wait in line, nor do we require an appointment to meet with Him. Hashem is always available to us. If we do not realize this, it is our problem. We are lacking in understanding of our relationship with Hashem.
Horav Aharon Kotler, zl, would often inspire his students to realize how deeply obligated a Jew is to understand this verity. The more one realizes his profound relationship with Hashem, the greater is his inspiration to act in a manner becoming his noble “pedigree.” Indeed, prior to carrying out any action, we must stop to think and ask ourselves, “Is this something that the king’s son would do? Is this the manner in which the king’s son would act?”
Furthermore, the concept of being a “son” is singular. A father can have many children, but each one is a ben yachid, singular/individual child. There is a sense of uniqueness and exclusivity to the term “son.” Horav Shlomo Wolbe, zl, writes: “The adam ha’maalah, prominent man (a man of virtue who acknowledges his qualities and potential, and who understands his extraordinary uniqueness as compared to the rest of the world), should be amazed by the knowledge that from all the world – everyone – he is unique; there is no other person like him! Indeed, from the beginning of Creation, from Adam HaRishon, Primordial Man, until this very day – never has there been anyone like him – nor will there ever be anyone like him. His talents, qualities, potential, both positive and negative – are unique and exclusive to him alone. (No two children are the same.) This is the meaning of bishvili nivra ha’olam, “For me (alone) was the world created.” Each and every one of us is uniquely endowed with our personal qualities, neither repeated nor emulated.
Horav Moshe Soloveitchik, zl, (Zurich) observes: “If the Torah refers to us as Hashem’s children, it becomes incumbent upon us to act as His children. Thus, when a child requires something, or if the child is in pain or in a dire circumstance, he immediately turns to his father for help. Should we be any different? Things happen in life and we run for help – to doctors, holy men, counselors, social workers, etc. How many take the time to speak to their Father in Heaven? How many take the time to realize that this is what He wants? Imagine, one’s father is a distinguished physician, educator, psychologist, etc. and one has a problem with a member of his family; how would his father feel to discover that his child went all over town to every professional, all of whom do not come close to him in competency – yet did not come to him? Is this not what we do? We turn to everyone, but only pay lip service to Hashem.
Horav Eliyahu Lopian, zl, asks a straightforward question which should be on the mind of anyone who reads this pasuk cogently: How is it that we are referred to by Hashem as His children, yet, in our daily lives, we seldom (if ever) think about or sense this unique connection? We understand and agree that we are unique, but it is not something that plays a significant role in our lives. Why?
The Mashgiach cites an incident which occurred during the Spanish Inquisition. A Jewish child was forcibly taken from the shelter of his home by rabid members of the religion that preaches love and tolerance. The child was noticeably brilliant and had a potentially bright future. Raised by Catholics, he went on to become a judge of the High Court which determined the capital punishment fate of the Anussim, Jews who had been forced to abandon their religion, that had either been caught practicing in secret or had refused to convert. In any event, the punishment was execution. This child-turned-judge was the final signature on the execution papers.
One day, they brought a number of papers for the judge to sign, which he did – except for one. For some reason, he simply could not affix his signature to one of the execution papers. No matter what he did, or how hard he tried – nothing worked. It just did not go! Finally, he asked to interview the prisoner. When they brought the prisoner to him, his hands and legs manacled, the judge asked to be left alone with the prisoner. He wanted to ask him a few questions. After grilling the prisoner for a short while, the judge discovered what had been bothering him his whole life: He was a Jew, and the prisoner who stood before him was none other than his father. This is why he could not sign the execution decree. His subconscious did not permit him to murder his own father.
Rav Elya commented, “When I heard this story, I understood the meaning of Banim atem l’Hashem, “You are children to Hashem.” We have an innate relationship with Hashem. Since our neshamah, soul, is a chelek Elokai miMaal, part of Heaven Above, there is a miniscule component derived from Hashem imbued within each and every one of us. Our physical being and the many nisyanos, trials, which we undergo throughout life, however, take their toll and often override or cloud this relationship to the point that we become disconnected. We just need to take some time to think, to consider who we are, from where we descend, and begin to work on “cleaning up our act,” changing our middos, character traits, purifying our desires; in short – acting as a Jew is supposed to act.
I would like to supplement this idea with the following well-known story recorded by the Sefer Chassidim and Levush. The following sheilah, halachic question, was posed to Rav Saadya Gaon. A wealthy man had left home together with his slave, leaving his wife and a young male infant at home. He took a large amount of money with him with which to purchase wares for his thriving business. While he was overseas, the man died and the slave furtively “assumed” the position of “son.” A number of years went by, and the real son grew up to discover the outrage committed against him. He also wanted his yerushah, rightful inheritance. The slave, of course, disputed the son, claiming that he was the rightful son, and the son was nothing more than an opportunist and charlatan.
Rav Saadya was unsure how to rule in such a case. He came up with a brilliant proposal. Ruling that the corpse could be exhumed, he did so and had the bones of the deceased placed in a jar. He then took blood samples from the slave, who claimed to be the son, and from the true son. He then placed blood from each one on the bones of the corpse. Lo and behold, the bones of the corpse absorbed the blood of the real son, but rejected the blood of the slave. Rav Saadya ruled that the one whose blood was absorbed by the father’s bones was the true son.
We see from here that the father/son relationship is much more than casual. They are of the same mold. A son is part and parcel, a direct component, of his father. Likewise, our relationship with Hashem is much more than a religious affiliation. We are part of Him. His kedushah, holiness, permeates us. This may come across as sounding elitist, but that is what we are. We are His children. We are suffused with His essence. It is what it is – and we are what we are.
