Today, more than ever, our children need their parents’ prayers

“If a woman conceives and gives birth to a male…” (Vayikra 12:2)

Let’s reflect upon the event of childbirth, and the proper response to welcoming a new child. It’s common for a pregnant woman and her relatives to pray throughout the period of pregnancy for a smooth delivery and healthy child. Certainly, there can be numerous complications, and prayer is most definitely warranted. Often, however, once the infant has been delivered, everyone breathes a sigh of relief, grateful their prayers were answered, and they go on; the prayers cease.

However, although childbirth marks the end of pregnancy, it marks the beginning of the equally important process of development and education. Our prayers should become more intense and heartfelt after a child’s born. Now, the real challenge begins — to raise the child to follow the proper path and lifestyle. (Rabbi Eli Mansour, Weekly Parasha Insights)

I’m grateful to live a mere 15-minute drive from Kever Rochel. There’s something otherworldly about turning from the busy highway from my house onto the narrow two-lane road leading to Beit Lechem. The atmosphere shifts dramatically, entering enemy territory. The steel walls surrounding our small plot of land are forbidding and depressing, yet at the same time comforting. Kever Rochel has been swallowed by our galus, just as Yaakov Avinu knew it would be. We reach our Mama’s kever with the threat of extinction just a stone’s-throw away, yet we know that the promise of redemption still lies within its walls.

I’m drawn to Kever Rochel in a way that no other makom kadosh draws me. The Kosel inspires awe, tears, a yearning for closeness. Kever Rochel simply cuts me off at the knees. I slip onto a worn wooden bench, and suddenly I’m laying my heart in my mother’s lap.

As a mother, there are depths of tefillos welling up in my heart for my children. As Rochel’s daughter, I beg her to bring those tefillos one step closer to the Kisei Hakavod.

Every day in Shacharis we pray, “So that we do not wear ourselves out for naught, and we do not give birth for confusion.” We plead to G-d that our children are not raised “for confusion,” straying from the proper path in search of something else, making us feel that our our hard work was “for naught.” We invest so much in our children, and we rightfully want to see this investment’s dividends — our children following the proper path. Child-rearing requires a great deal of Divine assistance. We need to pray daily that our efforts should be successful. This is especially true nowadays; today, more than ever, our children need their parents’ prayers.

A few weeks ago, my brother came from the States. I picked him up from the airport and the first stop we made was to Kever Rochel. I knew the visit could not be a long one; still, my step was eager as I approached the women’s entrance. Then I stopped. In front of the entrance stood a small group of 12-year-old girls. They were each dressed in white, with a wreath of white roses encircling their heads. They held hands, smiling solemnly as their relatives and friends stood capturing the moment. And the moment captured me.

Tehillim (128:3) describes children as “olive saplings around your table.” Why olives as opposed to other fruits? Most fruits are plucked from the tree ready to be eaten, whereas olives are placed in barrels after harvest, as they need time to soften and develop. So, too, children require a long process of development, a process often complicated and fraught with uncertainty. Prayer must not end at childbirth; that’s when we need to start praying in earnest.

It was clear from the crowd surrounding them that these girls were not growing up in a traditional Torah environment, but somehow that made this visit all that more poignant — that this was the stop they’d chosen to mark the milestone of bas mitzvah. Their choice of bridal white seemed to emphasize their innocence, their hesitant step over the threshold onto a path into adulthood. And they came to Mamma Rochel for guidance as they began that trek into life.

Watching each one solemnly approach the velvet monument in the center of the room, I added my tefillos for these daughters — they may not be mine from birth, but I yearn to be like Mamma Rochel, to stretch my heart for every daughter of Hashem.

 (Originally featured in Family First, Issue 787)