January 13, 2025|י"ג טבת ה' אלפים תשפ"ה Yaakov's Masterclass in Parenting Children Differently By Rabbi Jonathan Muskat

It is truly a joy to be here today, celebrating our children during this special teen Shabbat in shul. As we take this moment to honor the next generation, I want to offer you some timeless parenting advice. Picture this: two children, raised under the same roof, showered with the same love, the same care—at least, that’s what we think should be the case. But what happens when one child seems to get a little more attention, or when one is praised more often than the other or is given more opportunities than the other? We often hear that parents should treat their children equally, but what if that’s not always the best approach? Is it really so wrong for a parent to treat one child differently? Or could there be unforeseen consequences when we begin to treat our children differently—jealousy, rivalry, even resentment? So, here’s my parenting advice for today: please, I beg of you, do not treat your children equally. I repeat. Do not treat your children equally.

Albert Einstein is famously rumored to have said that the definition of insanity is doing the same thing over and over again and expecting different results. Now, I would never suggest that Yaakov Avinu was insane, but there’s something quite striking about his behavior at the end of his life. He calls all his children together and addresses each one individually, and what becomes clear, at least on the surface, is that he favors some over others. Yehuda receives the blessing of royalty, Yosef is blessed with prosperity and productivity—clearly, these are the highest blessings. On the other hand, Reuven, Shimon, and Levi receive criticism. Why doesn’t Yaakov worry that these blessings might stir jealousy among those who don’t receive the same honor as Yehuda or Yosef? After all, years earlier, when Yosef was a teenager, Yaakov showed him preferential treatment—and Chazal criticize this favoritism. The Gemara in Shabbat 10b states:

לעולם אל ישנה אדם בנו בין הבנים, שבשביל משקל שני סלעים מילת שנתן יעקב ליוסף יותר משאר בניו - נתקנאו בו אחיו, ונתגלגל הדבר וירדו אבותינו למצרים.

“A person should never distinguish one of his sons from among the others by giving him preferential treatment. For it was due to the weight of two sela of fine wool that Yaakov gave Yosef, beyond what he gave the rest of his sons, in making him the striped coat, that his brothers became jealous of him and the matter unfolded, and our forefathers descended to Egypt.”

Yaakov’s favoritism toward Yosef led to disastrous results, and yet, at the end of his life, he does it again! The Chatam Sofer comes to Yaakov’s defense by explaining that Chazal’s criticism only applies when a parent treats one child as distinct from the others, assuming that he is a בנו בין הבנים, that all children are equal. But if one child has unique gifts or challenges, then a certain degree of favoritism is not only acceptable, but necessary. When Yosef was a teenager, Yaakov understood that Yosef was different, and so he gave him special treatment. But the real problem was that Yaakov never communicated this to his other children. They saw Yosef’s treatment as arbitrary, leading them to jealousy.

At the end of his life, Yaakov addresses each of his children openly and honestly, without sugarcoating anything. For some, he highlights their strengths, and for others, their weaknesses. But every word is spoken with love, care, and an understanding of where each child is at in their own journey. This is where Yaakov’s approach shines. Children may think they want to be treated equally, but deep down, everyone wants to be recognized for their unique qualities, their individuality. No child wants to be seen as just a carbon copy of their sibling. The goal of a parent, then, is not to treat every child the same, but to recognize each child’s unique identity and help them maximize their potential in their own way.

If I criticize my child but they know it comes from a place of love—because I genuinely want them to grow and succeed in life—then that child will often feel just as loved as if I were praising their talents. It’s when we compare one child to another, when we say, “Why can’t you be more like Sarah?” or “Why aren’t you more like Jacob?” that the problems begin. I don’t know about the teachers in the room, but when I teach one child and then I teach her sibling, I have a strong instinct to compare the two – you are much quieter than your sister, or you are much more outgoing than your sister – but I try to resist that instinct and I try my hardest not to compare.  Additionally, if we demand perfection from our children without nurturing growth, we harm them. But if we ignore or deny their flaws, we aren’t helping them either. Yaakov, in his blessings, focused on the individual strengths of each of his children—some he saw as natural leaders, like Yehuda; others, like Yissachar, had wisdom; while still others, like Reuven, Shimon and Levi, needed to work on their impulsiveness and passion. He addressed their shortcomings, not to belittle them, but to help them grow into their full potential.

Most importantly, Yaakov didn’t have a fixed, rigid vision for who he wanted his children to be. He didn’t consider any of them a failure for not meeting some ideal. In fact, Yaakov teaches us how to respond when our children don’t fit the vision we might have for them—a vision that sometimes may be shaped more by our own desires than by their true needs.

I want to share a story I once heard from Rabbi YY Jacobson, who spoke about a life-changing encounter that his brother had with a young man. This man, in his thirties, had a severe speech impediment and compromised motor skills due to a neurological condition. When the young man was born, his parents, wealthy socialites in Manhattan, were told that their child would never be able to live independently, so they placed him in an institution and paid for his care, but never visited or developed a bond with him. One day, Rabbi Jacobson’s brother met this man and, after speaking with him and seeing what a special young man he was and hearing his story, arranged a meeting with his parents. Despite their resistance, after many phone calls, Rabbi Jacobson’s brother convinced them to meet their son, provided that he would accompany the son to the meeting. When they finally sat down together, after some awkward small talk, the rabbi spoke up and said, “I have met your son. He is such a profound human being and I thought that it would be a privilege for his parents to meet him.” The son then spoke up, saying:

“Papa, Mama. I am not perfect, as you know. I have not been perfect from birth. But you are also not perfect. I have forgiven you for your imperfections. I hope one day you will be able to forgive me for mine.”

In that moment, the parents—overcome with emotion—embraced their son, and they were reunited.

As parents, do we forgive our children for their imperfections? Do we expect them to walk a path we’ve already mapped out for them? Do we only embrace the children we want them to be, or do we accept and love them for who they truly are? Yaakov teaches us a masterclass in parenting: recognizing the individuality of each child, acknowledging both their strengths and weaknesses, and setting long-term goals without forcing them into a mold. Most importantly, Yaakov shows us how to do all of this with an abiding sense of love and care for each and every child, no matter where they are on their journey.

May we all be blessed to model Yaakov’s approach in our parenting and relationships, and may we create a home where every child feels valued for their unique and irreplaceable self.