Every morning, I wake up my precious baby, dress her, give her breakfast, and take her up the hill to her playgroup in Alon Shvut. I have to tell you, having my baby on my lap makes me feel like..... I can't explain it. If you have children, you know, and if you don't have children you wouldn't be able to know. Having a baby created in me a new spiritual reality in which I can feel something I never was able to feel before. I have been changed into a different person.
Marriage changed me in ways that I never anticipated. I was davening for my zivug and G-d heard my prayers even though I didn't really know what I was praying for. Dating could never have prepared me for the chuppa. Romance and marriage are two separate worlds. In a romance, the beginning is great and then it gets rough. In marriage, the opposite is true. Perhaps because a romance that lasts has betrayed its own definition. Romance must be new and exciting, defying all odds. Marriage is about building. Foundation stones are massive and must be planted deep. Having a child changes marriage, changes the couple, their relationship to each other, as well as the individuals. A man who, chas v'shalom, must sacrifice himself to save his wife, must decide to do so. The healthy soul will choose to do so. But it is still a decision. A father or mother who are in that position do not decide. It is built in.
It is interesting to note that in order to sit as part of the Sanhedrin, a man must have children. He must have undergone that change in his essence. There is an opinion that in order to learn Kabbala, a man must be married and have children. The Cohen Gadol must be married in order to do the temple service on Yom Kippur. I think it is what intimately connects a man (kal v'chomer a woman) to the aspect of G-d that created the world. All of our actions must come from that place.
I once tried to define what Judaism is. It is definitely not just a religion. You are a Jew whether you believe or not. You can't choose to be a Jew or not. For similar reasons, it is not a nationality. The most satisfying definition I heard was that Judaism is a family. These chapters of Bereishit describe the beginning of that family. It is almost painful to watch. An old couple, their only child lying on an altar with the knife poised over his breast, the mother's death, dangers from without.
I remember when we went to Florida to visit my in-laws. We took our baby to visit my wife's grandmother my baby's great grandmother. I wrote these words as I watched.
"We met Gramma and she met the baby, her great granddaughter. I sat back and watched her play with her on her lap. I looked next to her bed and saw a picture of her holding the baby who is now the mother of my child. An endless series of cycles where each link is totally new and unique. The mind staggers at how life is continued. Let go or not, hold on or not, life either is passed on from one hand to another, continuing its flow forward, the individuals falling away after passing on the original gift, or else it slips from the hand, falling into empty space, splattering on the ground as an old man crumples to the floor. It appears like an ever changing flower, the petals falling away as they are renewed."
The first step, the minimum requirement of a bar da'at, is to scream at G-d, to blame him, to judge him, to argue man's case before the heavenly court, to persevere until G-d concedes. But that is just the starting point. When I look at babies, I see that it is every man's responsibility to act as a partner in creation with G-d; to take upon himself total and complete responsibility for every single minute aspect of existence. You must feel a need to jump into action when you hear a baby cry, to run and heal every baby that gets sick and feels the cold hand of death upon his tiny tender heart. Have you looked into the eyes of a child and seen the change? Do you weep when you look in his eyes and see that a baby has learned fear and changed forever into a being with a personal knowledge of how real darkness can be in the world?