This week’s Parsha introduces us to the mysterious and most troubling law of the ben sorer u-moreh – the “wayward and rebellious son.” The Torah describes a child so defiant that his parents bring him before the elders of the city, where he is sentenced to death.
The Zohar paints a remarkable picture. When Hashem dictated this mitzvah, Moshe refused to write it. “Master of the Universe,” he cried, “can there ever be parents who would hand over their own child?” Only when Hashem revealed its deeper, mystical meaning did Moshe agree.
This mitzvah was given to us not to punish children but to teach parents.
The Talmud also teaches that this law was never actually carried out. The conditions are so strict as to be impossible – both parents must look and sound identical, the child must be exactly within a three-month age window, and he must steal money to buy and consume a very specific amount of meat and wine. It was never meant as a practical law but as a teaching.
What, then, is its message?
One beautiful teaching is based on The Talmud’s explanation that if the parents forgive their son, he is forgiven. At first glance, this is puzzling. The Torah doesn’t say the boy is punished for dishonoring his parents – it says he is punished because he is destined for a destructive future. How would his parents’ forgiveness change that?
The Shem Mishmuel explains that it changes everything. A child’s ability to believe in his or her own goodness comes largely from the love and forgiveness of their parents. When parents continue to accept and love their child, even after disappointment, they give that child the greatest gift: the space to forgive themselves and the courage to change course. But when parents withdraw love, when they cut off connection, the child begins to believe they are truly beyond repair – and that hopelessness becomes a self-fulfilling prophecy.
This is the Torah’s lesson. Our children don’t need us to be perfect. They need us to be present. They need to know that even when they stumble, we still see their neshama (soul), still believe in their future, and still stand by their side and “hold” them. Our forgiveness is not weakness; it is the very force that allows our children to grow.
This mitzvah was never about condemning children. It is about guiding parents: to forgive, to be present in our children’s lives, to stay connected, and to strive for unity. In doing so, we give our children the greatest gift – the faith that they are never beyond hope, never beyond love.
Shabbat Shalom,
Rabbi Shlomie Cohen
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