05 May MOTHER’S DAY: WHEN LESS MEANS MORE

A man once
complained to his
wife: “Why do the
kids make such a fuss
over Mother’s Day,
but barely notice
Father’s Day?”
She smiled and replied: “Fathers don’t need a
day , they have an entire month: Chodesh Av.”
At first, it’s just clever wordplay , “Av”
means both “father” and the name of a month.
But the humor opens the door to something
deeper , especially if we’re trying to
understand Mother’s Day through a Torah
lens.
It raises a real question: is it correct to
concentrate a year-long obligation of honoring
parents into a single day?
Because the truth is, the joke works precisely
because it highlights a contrast. A father, at
least in the joke, can be associated with a
month , something extended and structured.
But a mother? She gets a day. Why?
Not because her role is smaller, but because it
is so constant that it risks becoming unnoticed.
And that is exactly where the tension lies.
On the one hand, the Torah’s demand of
honoring parents is absolute and continuous. It
is not seasonal, not symbolic, and not satisfied
by gestures. Reducing it to a “day” would be a
distortion , almost a way of discharging a
lifelong obligation with a single annual act.

But on the other hand, human nature doesn’t
function on ideals alone. What is constant
becomes background. What is always present
is often least acknowledged.
So the question is not whether a day is
“correct” , but how it is used.
If Mother’s Day becomes a substitute , a way
of saying, “I’ve done my part for the year” ,
then it directly undermines the Torah’s vision.
But if it becomes a disruption , a moment that
forces a person to confront how much he
overlooks, how much he takes for granted ,
then it can actually serve the Torah’s goal, not
replace it.
In that sense, a single day can never carry the
weight of a year-long obligation. But it can
illuminate it.
Let’s try to find a parallel in Torah sources that
sharpens the discussion.
Chazal teach in Talmud Bavli (Shabbat 118)
that one should not recite Hallel every single
day. By contrast, tefillah is recited three times
daily, and a person may even pray more if he
wishes.
The difference is fundamental.
Tefillah is talking to Hashem, it’s the language
of relationship. It expresses dependence,
connection, and ongoing engagement. The
more a person prays, the deeper the
relationship becomes. That is why it is
constant, built into daily life.
Hallel, however, is different. It is an

expression of praise, celebration, and
heightened recognition. And praise cannot be
constant. If Hallel were said every day, it
would lose its meaning and impact. What is
meant to feel elevated would become routine,
and routine often becomes empty.
This distinction speaks directly to Mother’s
Day.
The obligation to honor one’s mother is like
tefillah, constant, ongoing, and not limited to
specific moments. It is a relationship, not an
event. It cannot be fulfilled through occasional
gestures alone.
But expressions of appreciation, praise,
special attention, and visible acts of honor, are
more like Hallel. If they were constant, they
might lose their impact. Precisely because
they are occasional, they carry weight when
they happen.
So the balance becomes clear:
The relationship must be constant.
The expression can be occasional.
Mother’s Day is not the mitzvah, it is the
Hallel:
a focused moment of appreciation that, when
used properly, strengthens rather than replaces
the steady, daily relationship.
At this point, however, a sharper question
emerges:
Are we even allowed to establish a day like
this, something that resembles a “holiday”?
The Ramban writes that one who creates new
religious observances in the style of the
Torah’s festivals may violate bal tosif, the
prohibition against adding to the mitzvot.
So is Mother’s Day a problem?
The answer depends on how it is framed.
If one treats it as a religious obligation, a day
endowed with inherent sanctity or a quasi–
Yom Tov status, then it begins to resemble an
addition to the Torah’s system, precisely what
bal tosif warns against. What began as a
human expression is transformed into a formal
institution, with structure, expectation, and
even a sense of obligation.
But if it is understood simply as a personal
occasion, a practical tool to express gratitude,
without any claim of mitzvah-status or
holiness, then it is fundamentally different. It
is not a new “holiday, ” but a chosen moment
of expression, no more halachically binding
than deciding to give a gift, make a phone
call, or show extra care.
In other words, everything depends on
whether the day becomes fixed or remains felt.
If it turns into a set “holiday” that one must
keep, with defined acts that need to be
performed, it risks losing its very essence.
The moment appreciation becomes obligatory,
it begins to sound less like gratitude and more
like compliance. And compliance, by
definition, lacks the authenticity of the heart.
True appreciation does not need enforcement.
One who genuinely feels gratitude does not
wait for a date on the calendar to express it,
and certainly does not need to be compelled.
A day like this can inspire expression.
But the moment it dictates it, it diminishes it.
And now the earlier distinction becomes
crucial: The mitzvah itself, honoring one’s

mother, remains like tefillah: constant,
ongoing, and non-negotiable.
The day is only like Hallel: an occasional
expression, not an institution.
So the issue is not the existence of the day, but
its definition.
The moment a day replaces the mitzvah, it
becomes a problem.
The moment it serves the mitzvah, it becomes
meaningful.
This would be similar to one who celebrates a
birthday or an anniversary. Even though it
returns on the same date each year, it is not
considered a “holiday, ” but rather a chosen
moment to express appreciation, gratitude,
and recognition.
No one views a birthday as creating a new
mitzvah or adding sanctity to the calendar. It is
simply a structured opportunity to highlight
something that exists all year but is not always
actively expressed.
So too here. Mother’s Day, when properly
understood, is not an institution but an
expression.
Not a replacement for obligation, but a
reinforcement of it.
Just as a birthday does not define the
relationship but gives it a moment of focus, so
too a day of appreciation for one’s mother can
serve as means to strengthen what must
already exist continuously.
Let’s go back to the question we started with:
why does Father’s Day get ignored while
Mother’s Day gets all the attention? If we
follow the joke’s premise, that a father “gets a
month”, the answer may lie in how time
shapes attention.
If something is spread out, like the joke that a
father “has a month, ” Chodesh Av, it becomes
too broad to feel urgent. A full month is
difficult to hold onto. It stretches, diffuses,
and slowly blends into routine. What begins as
something notable can easily turn into
something overlooked. Length, ironically,
can lead to neglect.
But “getting a day” does the opposite.
A single day concentrates attention. It creates
immediacy. It says: now is the moment, don’t
let it pass. Because it is limited, it becomes
powerful. It interrupts the flow of the year and
forces a person to pause and express what is
often left unspoken.
So the imbalance is not necessarily about who
deserves more, but about how expression
works.
Lengthy praise diffuses. A day concentrates.
And within the framework we developed, this
fits perfectly: The relationship itself, like
tefillah, must be constant, equal for both
parents, and not dependent on the calendar.
But the expression, like Hallel, gains its
meaning from being occasional and focused.
That is why a “day” can carry more visible
impact than a “month.” Not because it replaces
the year, but because it reveals it.