In Parshas Vayishlach, we confront the tragic story of Dinah’s kidnapping and violation. Rashi, quoting Chazal, asks why such a calamity befell her. He answers that Dinah was a yatzanis—a girl who “went out,” much like her mother Leah had gone out. To be fair, Dinah ventured into Shechem simply to see the local girls, to observe how they lived, how they celebrated, perhaps seeking companionship. But because “Kol kevuda bas melech penimah—The dignity of a Jewish woman is inward,” her wandering made her vulnerable. In a city steeped in idolatry and corruption, walking alone carried terrible risks.
But this raises a deeper question: Why was Dinah a yatzanis at all?
I once heard a profound insight from the Tolna Rebbe. When Esav approached with four hundred men, the Torah describes Yaakov arranging his family, and then Rashi notes: Where was Dinah? The answer: Yaakov placed her in a box and locked it. Vena’al lifaneha—he bolted it shut right before her eyes.
The Tolna Rebbe asked: Why lock it? Did Yaakov truly imagine Esav rifling through his luggage in hopes of finding a daughter to marry? No. Yaakov locked the box not to keep Esav out, but to keep Dinah in. He feared she might act out of compassion, try to “save” Esav, perhaps even marry him in the hope of bringing him to teshuvah. Yaakov said, in effect, “I don’t trust you to make the right choice.”
The Rebbe concluded: When you lock your children in a box, do not be surprised if, at the first opportunity, they run as far as they can.
We must be extremely careful with the instinct to overprotect. There is a world of difference between guiding a child and confining one.
A friend of mine serves as a Rosh Yeshiva in an out-of-town community. As his children grew older, his daughter would occasionally ask, “Ta, the girls are doing this—can I go?” He would answer, “No, we don’t do that in our family.” Another request—same answer. And again. After several rounds, she finally asked him, “So what do we do in our family?” He told me that question shook him. He realized he had a long list of don’ts, but not a clear vision of what he wanted to affirm and celebrate in Jewish life.
Rav Moshe Feinstein famously said that the phrase “Shver tzu zein a Yid—It’s hard to be a Jew”—helped destroy American Jewry. When Judaism is experienced only as hardship, restriction, pressure, and prohibition, children eventually suffocate. But when Judaism is presented as beautiful, joyous, rich, uplifting—as Givaldik, as something to cherish—then it becomes a source of identity, connection, and pride.
If our children do not see the beauty of Shabbos, the joy of the chagim, the depth and sweetness of Torah—if we only lock them in a box of “No, no, no”—why should we expect them to remain?
We certainly must guard and guide our children. Perhaps Yaakov was right to place Dinah in a protective box. But when the box is locked—when a child senses, I don’t trust you—the damage can be profound. Children thrive on the knowledge that their parents believe in them. Trust empowers. Trust strengthens. Trust invites a child to rise to the expectations placed upon them.
When our children feel that we believe in their goodness, in their judgment, in their spiritual potential, they will build on that trust and grow into strong, committed, and joyful bnei and bnos Torah.
May we all merit to raise children who feel trusted, valued, and inspired to live authentic Torah lives.
