I want to share something remarkable that has never left me. Many years ago, I went with my son and daughter-in-law to one of the wisest men of the generation, Rav Shlomo Wolbe zt”l. I asked him a question I am often asked myself: “Rebbe, when I speak to parents about chinuch, what is the single most important message I should give them?”
Rav Wolbe answered with characteristic simplicity and brilliance: “There are two things every child must receive: Time and love.”
My son, then just beginning his own parenting journey, pressed further. “Rebbe, how much time? How much do our children need?”
Rav Wolbe smiled and gave a timeless answer: “As much as they need.”
He was right. In today’s world you simply cannot attend every wedding, every bar mitzvah, every bas mitzvah, every upsherin, every event. Baruch Hashem, Klal Yisrael has grown so beautifully that you could be out every single night of the week. But if you still have children at home, you do not belong everywhere else.
Your first responsibility is home. Your first obligation is your children.
People ask me all the time, “Rabbi, how do you travel all over the world? Edmonton, Antwerp, Manchester, Chile, Australia?” And the answer is simple: my children are married. You’d have to be out of your mind to travel like that when there are little ones at home.
I will tell you something surprising: If you don’t show up at the wedding, the couple will still get married! But your child won’t wait for your time.
If we are not present, children will look for validation somewhere else. They will seek connection from friends, from the street, from their phones—because they feel no connection at home. The world is full of distractions, and if we are too busy for our children, someone else will be glad to claim their attention.
When my children were young, each one had a weekly half-hour of undivided time. No interruptions. No phones. Just the two of us. Today it’s harder; cell phones run our lives. As R’ Matisyahu Salomon once quipped, “I don’t know how anyone with a smartphone can say the morning blessing, ‘She’lo Asani Aved—Who has not made be a slave.’ Such a person is a slave!”
Walk down any street and watch couples taking a walk. He is on his phone. She is on hers. They might as well be miles apart.
But a child, for thirty minutes a week, gets a parent with full attention. If they want to go bowling, we went bowling. If they wanted pizza, we bought pizza. If they wanted to learn Tanach, we learned Tanach. It was their time.
Do you know what happens when you do this? You learn everything about your child. Their friends. Their teachers. Their favorite colors. Their dreams. And your relationship becomes real.
As yourself. When was the last time you had a real conversation with your child or grandchild? Not a quick check-in, not a reminder, not a correction; an actual conversation longer than three minutes. This is where connection happens. This is how children feel loved.
I once heard a heartbreaking story from the marriage counselor and psychologist, Dr. Meir Wikler. A couple divorced, and the custody arrangement was that the children stayed with their mother during the week and with their father for Shabbos. One Tuesday night, the mother was putting her young son to sleep when he suddenly burst into tears.
“I want to go to Daddy.” “What do you mean? You’ll see Daddy on Shabbos.” “No! I want Daddy now!” She couldn’t calm him, so she called her ex-husband. He came immediately, took the boy home, put him into bed, and the boy began crying again.
“I want Mommy!” “But you just asked for me! That’s why I came!” “No, I want Mommy!”
He couldn’t calm him either. So he brought the boy back to his mother. And as the father turned to leave, the boy stood at the door sobbing, “Daddy, don’t go. Please stay. Please stay tonight.” The father couldn’t stay. He left, and the boy cried himself to sleep.
The next morning the mother called Dr. Wikler. After describing the whole ordeal, she asked: “Do you think my son needs therapy?” Dr. Wikler answered: “Your son doesn’t need therapy. Your son needs parents.”
Children don’t need perfection. They don’t need brilliance. They don’t need expensive toys or elaborate vacations. They need parents who present, attentive and loving.
When my daughter was engaged, we had many honest conversations. I once said to her, “Faige, I used to criticize you a lot. Didn’t it bother you?” She answered with such clarity that I will never forget it. “Tatty, do you know how many times a week you told me you were a millionaire because I was your daughter? I believed you. And I knew you meant it.” That is the power of love that is spoken and shown consistently.
Do you ever go over to your child and say: “I am the richest person in the world —not because of money, but because Hashem gave me you.” Say it. And mean it. One sincere hug given with that message can bind a child to you for life.
