Intro
Welcome to Soulful Jewish Living: Mindful Practices for Every Day with me, Josh Feigelson.
I’m grateful you’re here, and I hope you benefit from our time together.
As you might expect, the best wedding I’ve ever been to was…my own. To this day, years later, whenever my wife and I think about it, it still brings a smile to our faces. We were surrounded by friends and family. There was a fantastic klezmer band, and the dancing was amazing. The smiles on everyone’s faces were radiant—and especially on ours.
Which is as it should be. At a Jewish wedding, the overriding mitzvah is to help the couple feel joy. (And, as I like to point out to couples whose weddings I’ve had the honor to officiate, that applies to the couple themselves—you’ve got to let yourself be happy, which can often be a challenge of its own.) Natalie and I were the center of attention, and we really felt like royalty for a day.
But we weren’t the only center of attention. Since I was the youngest child in my family and the last one to get married, at one point we danced a special number called a mezinka dance. The mezinka is a tradition among eastern European Jews to honor the parents of a bride or groom when they’re marrying off their last child. So for a few minutes, instead of me and my wife being the focus, my folks were. And that too was really beautiful.
The other night, many years later, Natalie and I were at a wedding of the child of family friends—and we watched as our kids danced in front of the newlyweds and helped them to be joyful on their wedding day. Inevitably, my mind went back to our wedding, and I had one of those full-circle, “Sunrise, Sunset,” “Circle of Life,” l’dor vador moments. I really wished my parents could have seen it. They would have shepped a lot of nachas.
We’re up to the Fifth in our miniseries on the Ten Commandments, and by now you’ve probably figured out that this one is about honoring our parents. “Honor your father and your mother,” says the Torah, “in order that you may long endure on the land that YHVH your God is assigning to you.” There’s a lot to unpack (which is good, because this is an Unpacked podcast – I’ll be here all week).
First of all, while the Torah commands us to love the stranger, our neighbor, and God, I think it’s noteworthy to point out that it doesn’t command us to love our parents. That’s important, because not all of us enjoy a good relationship with them—or even to have any relationship with them at all. (And this is probably a good moment for my occasional disclaimer when we’re dealing with topics that can be particularly challenging: Our intention here is to help; if you find that, for whatever reason, today’s episode is making it harder and not easier for you, then please feel welcome to press pause and come back at a time that’s better for you. And if you’re experiencing more significant challenges, please reach out to a mental health professional.)
Parent-child relationships are hard—half the therapists in the world would go out of business if they were simple. My relationship with my folks went through many phases, not all of them easy, and the same may be true for you. Good news: the Torah doesn’t ask us to always have positive feelings towards our parents. It just tells us to honor them, to show them respect.
What does that look like? Maimonides explains that it involves practical things, like bringing them food, taking care of them in their old age—from their own financial resources if they have them, taking them out and bring them home. (I’m taking my mom to the doctor this morning—points!)
What do you hear in this? To me it’s a description of an adult relationship with our parents. Which makes sense, since mitzvot aren’t things for kids—they’re for grownups. They’re about how to live as an adult. (Hence, “Today I am a man” at a bar mitzvah. Okay, okay—age 13 isn’t exactly manhood. But the basic idea is there.)
At the heart of that relationship is an appropriate sense of humility, which leads to a healthy sense of responsibility. In other words, this Fifth Commandment builds on the previous one about Shabbat—which you’ll remember I talked about as essentially a practice in holding on and letting go. If you want to put that “holding on and letting go” into interpersonal practice, the Fifth Commandment is what it looks like: appropriate humility and appropriate responsibility, starting with the most foundational relationships in our lives.
Here’s a practice for this week. It’s not a meditation practice, but something a little different. To do it, you’ll need to find a simple, everyday object in your home that has a story. It could be a piece of furniture, a kitchen appliance, a well-worn book, or a family photograph. The key is that this object represents something you received from a parent or elder.
The practice has two phases. The first is the humility, or anava phase: Hold the object in your hands. Try to truly feel it. If it’s a chair, run your hand over the wood. If it’s a book, feel the pages. Allow your senses to really connect with the object, and just be in touch with your direct experience.
Now, begin to reflect on the object’s origin. Who made it or bought it? Who used it? What was its purpose? Imagine the stories, the work, and the love that went into obtaining or using this object before it came to you.
As you sense that, see if you can recognize that your life is built on the contributions of others. You aren’t the first link in this chain. This is the essence of humility, anava.
The second phase is about responsibility, or achrayut, and it involves not just an awareness in your mind, but speaking. See if you can say a quiet, whispered blessing or word of thanks for the person who brought this object into your life. The practice is not to thank the object itself, but to acknowledge the person and their effort.
And from there, imagine what you will do with this object and the legacy it represents. How will you use it or care for it? What values does it represent that you want to pass on? This quiet, mindful act of cherishing and imagining into the future builds on our humility and gratitude, and can transform it into an active sense of responsibility.
This practice is a way to turn everyday objects into tangible reminders of spiritual truths. It can help us sanctify the mundane and make the abstract concepts of humility and responsibility concrete and personal. It’s an active way of showing honor to our parents—who, at their very essence, were God’s partners in bringing us into the world.
Blessings for the journey. Know that I’m on it with you.
ENDING
Thank you for joining us for Soulful Jewish Living: Mindful Practices for Every Day, a production of Unpacked, a brand of OpenDor Media, and the Institute for Jewish Spirituality. This episode is sponsored by Jonathan and Kori Kalafer and the Somerset Patriots: The Bridgewater, NJ-based AA Affiliate of the New York Yankees. If you like this show, subscribe, share this episode with a friend, give us five stars on Apple Podcasts. Check out our website, unpacked.media for everything Unpacked-related, and subscribe to our other podcasts, and check out the Institute for Jewish Spirituality. Most importantly, be in touch–about what you heard today, what you’d like to hear more about, or to dedicate an episode. Write to me at josh@unpacked.media.
This episode was hosted by me, Rabbi Josh Feigelson. Audio was edited by Rob Pera and we’re produced by Rivky Stern. Thanks for joining us.