November 24, 2024|כ"ג חשון ה' אלפים תשפ"ה Yitzchak's Compassion: Never Giving Up on Our Children, Our Students, or Ourselves By Rabbi Jonathan Muskat

Some of us find ourselves in the midst of parent-teacher conference season—some as parents, and some as teachers. As parents, some of us are excited to meet our children's teachers, expecting a glowing nachas report. But others of us brace for the familiar lines like, “Your son has so much potential!”—a euphemism for, “He’s not living up to it.” Or, “Your daughter always has a smile on her face!”—code for, “She smiles, but she doesn’t do a stitch of work.” The question is: how do we respond as parents to such reports? What do we do when we hear criticism about our children?

Now, imagine our ancestors—Avraham, Yitzchak, and Yaakov—attending a divine parent-teacher conference. Imagine a scenario where God Himself is the teacher, telling them, “Your children have failed.” How would they respond? Remarkably, the Gemara in Masechet Shabbat (89b) paints this exact scene:

לעתיד לבא יאמר לו הקדוש ברוך הוא לאברהם: בניך חטאו לי. אמר לפניו: רבונו של עולם - ימחו על קדושת שמך. אמר: אימר ליה ליעקב דהוה ליה צער גידול בנים, אפשר דבעי רחמי עלייהו. אמר ליה: בניך חטאו. - אמר לפניו: רבונו של עולם, ימחו על קדושת שמך. - אמר: לא בסבי טעמא, ולא בדרדקי עצה. אמר לו ליצחק: בניך חטאו לי. - אמר לפניו: רבונו של עולם, בני ולא בניך? בשעה שהקדימו לפניך נעשה לנשמע, קראת להם בני בכורי, עכשיו בני ולא בניך? ועוד, כמה חטאו? כמה שנותיו של אדם - שבעים שנה. דל עשרין דלא ענשת עלייהו - פשו להו חמשין. דל עשרין וחמשה דלילותא - פשו להו עשרין וחמשה. דל תרתי סרי ופלגא, דצלויי ומיכל ודבית הכסא - פשו להו תרתי סרי ופלגא. אם אתה סובל את כולם - מוטב, ואם לאו - פלגא עלי ופלגא עליך. ואם תמצא לומר כולם עלי - הא קריבית נפשי קמך.  

In the future, Hashem will say to Avraham, “Your children have sinned against Me.” Avraham will reply, “They should be wiped out for the sake of Your holy name.” Hashem will then say, “Let me ask Yaakov, who endured much suffering raising his children. Perhaps he will pray for them.” When God tells Yaakov, “Your children have sinned,” he too responds, “They should be wiped out for the sake of Your holy name.” At this, God says, “There is no wisdom in the elders, and no counsel in the youth. I will speak to Yitzchak.”

When God tells Yitzchak, “Your children have sinned,” Yitzchak replies, “My children? Are they not also Your children? When they said na’aseh v’nishma (we will do and then we will listen), You called them ‘My firstborn.’ Now, they are my children? And how much have they really sinned? A person lives seventy years: the first twenty years are not punishable by Heaven. That leaves fifty. Half of that is spent sleeping, so we’re down to twenty-five. Subtract time spent eating, praying, and other necessary tasks, and we’re left with twelve and a half years. If You can bear their sins, good; if not, let us split the burden. Or, if You insist, I will take it all upon myself—I already offered my soul for You at the Akeidah!”

It’s fascinating. At this divine parent-teacher conference, when told that the children of Israel have sinned, both Avraham and Yaakov accept the verdict and do not defend them. But Yitzchak—the strict patriarch often associated with gevurah (strength, discipline)—emerges as the great defender. Why? Why not Avraham, the embodiment of kindness? Why not Yaakov, who raised twelve rambunctious children?

The Iyun Yaakov explains that Avraham, despite his boundless kindness, drove Yishmael out of his home, and Yaakov, at the end of his life, cursed the anger of Shimon and Levi. In contrast, Yitzchak never gave up on Esav, even though Esav was wicked. Yitzchak remained committed to him, hoping for his betterment.

But Yitzchak’s story of defending those on the margins goes beyond Esav. At the end of this week’s parsha, we learn that Avraham marries a woman named Keturah. The Torah doesn’t provide much detail about her, but the preceding story gives us a hint. Right before Avraham’s remarriage, the Torah describes Yitzchak as בָּא מִבּ֔וֹא בְּאֵ֥ר לַחַ֖י רֹאִ֑י—“coming from Be’er Lachai Ro’i.” This place should sound familiar. It is where Hagar, after being banished from Avraham’s house the first time, encountered an angel.

According to the Radak and Ramban, Be’er Lachai Ro’i became Yitzchak’s regular place of prayer. Why would Yitzchak choose this spot, so deeply associated with Hagar and Yishmael, people his father had cast out? Perhaps Yitzchak was praying for his mother, Sarah, who had passed away. Or perhaps he was praying for his future wife. But maybe Yitzchak was also praying for his father. After all, Avraham had experienced terrible losses—not just Sarah’s death, but the estrangement of Hagar and Yishmael. The Torah explicitly states that expelling them was - וַיֵּ֧רַע הַדָּבָ֛ר מְאֹ֖ד בְּעֵינֵ֣י אַבְרָהָ֑ם, very distressing to Avraham.

Years before Yitzchak goes to Be’er Lachai Ro’i, Hagar goes there after being banished from Avraham because she got pregnant and then disrespected Sarah. At that first encounter with the angel, she was given guidance to reframe her perspective. She was told to return to Avraham’s house, accept her role as Sarah’s maidservant, and change her attitude rather than fleeing her situation. What she had initially believed to be a path toward independence was now reshaped as a path of humility and submission to her circumstances. Be’er Lachai Ro’i became a place of heavenly encounter and self-reflection, where individuals confronted what they could not control and found the strength to change what they could. This is precisely what Yitzchak needed. He comes crying to God, grieving for his mother, searching for his future wife, or distressed over his father’s pain. Yitzchak learns at this place of transformation that while he cannot undo the tragedies he has faced, he can choose how to respond. He channels his sorrow into an act of profound chesed, acting compassionately toward his father, Hagar, and Yishmael by reuniting the family and soothing the grief of those around him.

The Midrash Hagadol adds a beautiful detail: when Yitzchak saw that his father was arranging a wife for him, he thought, אפשר אתייחד עמה ויהיה אבי יושב לבדו, אלא אלך ואחזיר לו את הגר “Is it right that I will have a wife while my father remains alone? I will bring Hagar back.” And so, Yitzchak reunites his father with Hagar, transforming his own sorrow into an act of kindness that restores family bonds.

This is the Yitzchak we meet in the Gemara. Yitzchak never gives up on anyone—not on Esav, not on Hagar, and not on Yishmael. He understands that we cannot always change our circumstances, but we can change how we respond to them.

And so, when Hashem presents Yitzchak with the failings of the Jewish people, Yitzchak defends them. He argues on their behalf and takes responsibility for them, modeling for us the power of compassion and loyalty. Yitzchak teaches us that we must never give up on anyone—not our children, not our students, and not ourselves.