Existential Dread, Parenting, and the Seder

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This may come as a surprise to many of you, given the general calm I obviously exude at all times – but I am prone to the odd moment of existential dread (and by “odd moment,” I mean at least once a day).

In particular, I find myself constantly asking if I am succeeding as a parent. It only takes one tantrum or negative behavior before I’m asking myself where I’ve gone wrong in my parenting. And then there’s the nagging fear that I’m not learning enough with my children. Any time that I see Koren Publisher’s beautiful child-friendly mishnayot sitting on their shelf in my house I am struck by a pang because I feel I should be learning them with the kids.

I thus took tremendous encouragement from a twist on a familiar idea in the Haggadah of Rabbi Shalom Rosner, the Shalom Rav Haggadah.

Rabbi Rosner begins with the Haggadah’s curious use of a specific term for God in its introduction to the Four Sons: barukh ha-Makom, barukh Hu – which literally translates as “Blessed be the Place, Blessed be He.” Why the term Makom, “place,” to refer to God?

R. Rosner points to an explanation of Rabbi Soloveitchik, who noted that the term Makom is employed in our statement to mourners, ha-Makom ye-naḥem etkhem, “may the Place comfort you.” For the Rav, it is precisely at a time of mourning that we encounter God as a distant figure – a remote Place, from which we can draw strength even if we cannot comprehend why things are the way they are.

And this leads R. Rosner to his remarkable comment. The notion of God as a Makom is relevant not just to mourning but to any experience of uncertainty. Whenever we find ourselves plagued by doubt over a decision we need to make, whenever we worry over what we should be doing, God is experienced as a Makom: a distant figure whose plan for us is unknown – even while we recognize that there is still a plan.

This is parenting. This is raising children. This is why the Four Sons are introduced with God as ha-Makom. We do not know whether the path we have put our children on will lead them to becoming wise, wicked, simple, or ignorant.

This constant fear that we cannot control our children (be they four or forty) is experienced with God as a Makom. The recognition that we don’t know what’s best – and that the decisions we make will have far-reaching implications that may run counter to their original intent – is one embraced with God as a Makom.

God’s distance, however, brings two emotions. The first is a sense of loneliness: I don’t know what I’m doing, and God is not around to help me, as it were. But the second is a form of solace – even when He is at his most distant He is still ha-Makom, He is still our God to whom we can turn in prayer and outcry.

Barukh ha-Makom Barukh Hu.

R. Rosner points to an explanation of Rabbi Soloveitchik, who noted that the term Makom is employed in our statement to mourners, ha-Makom ye-naḥem etkhem, “may the Place comfort you.” For the Rav, it is precisely at a time of mourning that we encounter God as a distant figure – a remote Place, from which we can draw strength even if we cannot comprehend why things are the way they are.

And this leads R. Rosner to his remarkable comment. The notion of God as a Makom is relevant not just to mourning but to any experience of uncertainty. Whenever we find ourselves plagued by doubt over a decision we need to make, whenever we worry over what we should be doing, God is experienced as a Makom: a distant figure whose plan for us is unknown – even while we recognize that there is still a plan.

This is parenting. This is raising children. This is why the Four Sons are introduced with God as ha-Makom. We do not know whether the path we have put our children on will lead them to becoming wise, wicked, simple, or ignorant.

This constant fear that we cannot control our children (be they four or forty) is experienced with God as a Makom. The recognition that we don’t know what’s best – and that the decisions we make will have far-reaching implications that may run counter to their original intent – is one embraced with God as a Makom.

God’s distance, however, brings two emotions. The first is a sense of loneliness: I don’t know what I’m doing, and God is not around to help me, as it were. But the second is a form of solace – even when He is at his most distant He is still ha-Makom, He is still our God to whom we can turn in prayer and outcry.

Barukh ha-Makom Barukh Hu.