24 Jan WHAT’S YOUR STORY

”Ve’higadeta le’vincha – And you shall tell
it to your children. (Shemos/Exodus 13:8)
This week’s Torah portion, Bo, instructs us
to share with our children the story of our
people, the making of our nation.
Every year, come Seder night, we open our
Haggadahs, and recount the miraculous
story of our nation’s survival. How with the
“outstretched hand of HaShem”, Am Yisroel
rose from slavery to freedom, from bondage
to liberation. How they stood at Sinai, and
accepted upon themselves Torah and
mitzvos.
It is the story of our identity. The tale of
Jewish continuity.
The Book of Shemos relates how our
Patriarch Yaakov went to Egypt with
seventy descendants. A small group that
flourished to the multitude that stood at
Sinai.
The commandment to tell over the story of

the Exodus is so fundamental, that we
mention it in our daily prayers when we
recite Shema, and every Friday night in
Kiddush, “Zecher li’tzias Mitrayim – In
remembrance of our Exodus from Egypt”.
To my parents, of blessed memory, the
mitzva of ve’higadeta, to recount the tale,
wasn’t reserved just for Seder night or for
the story of the Exodus. Every Yom Tov,
every Shabbos, every family gathering, was
an occasion to share stories of our people.
Stories of our Patriarchs and Matriarchs.
Stories of our great rabbis and leaders. They
shared family stories of our Zeides and
Bubbas, our ancestors. Every night before
going to sleep, instead of hearing about
Goldilocks and the Three Bears, Little Red
Riding Hood, or Snow White, we heard
about Rabbi Akiva and Hillel, about Queen
Esther and Ruth. We heard about our family
that perished in the Holocaust. We felt
connected to our past.
My parents conveyed the message to us
that we were links in a chain. That we had
ancestors who made a path for us. A path
that went all the way back to Sinai. The

message of knowing who you are,
where you came from, and where
you are going to, was always with
us.
In today’s world of internet
culture, so many of our children
are growing up without hearing
stories of their past, tales of their
heritage. They are growing up
without the Ve’higadeta
le’vincha, to tell your child.
I recently came across a
children’s book that adults can
appreciate as well, Goodnight
iPad by Ann Droyd (obviously a
pseudonym). It is a parody of the classic
bedtime read Goodnight Moon.
“In the bright buzzing room
There was an iPad
And a kid playing Doom
And a screensaver of—
A bird launching over the moon
There were three little Nooks
With ten thousand books
And a huge LCD Wi-Fi HDTV
With Bose 5.1,
Six remotes, and 3-D”
The book’s illustrations depict a culture
that is technology infested – everyone
with their personal devices. The
bookshelves are empty, the room filled
with screens, tablets, media players, and
of course, a quiet old lady who couldn’t
fall asleep.
While I appreciated the humor, and even
had a laugh, there was something tragic
about a world of children growing up
addicted to their ipads. A world lacking a
human touch. A world where devices
often replace old time bedtime stories.
What a contrast to the memories of my
childhood. Memories of my parents and
grandparents sharing stories of our family
and our history.
Years passed. My mother became the
grandmother. Together with my siblings,
we would often go “home” for Shabbos
and Yom Tov. The children would gather
around my mother, their beloved Bubba,
and the stories continued. M’dor l’dor,
from generation to generation.
Ve’higadeta le’vincha, and you should tell
your children.

We children are blessed to have ancestors
who authored holy books, books of Torah
commentary. Books my parents brought
with them to every family simcha, be it a
bris, a bar mitzvah or a wedding. They
would place the books on the head table,
giving them a place of honor. They would
explain the books’ origins, and invite our
ancestors’ neshamos to join us and shower
us with blessings. The woreds of Pirkei
Avos, Ethics of Our Fathers come to mind,
“Dah may’ayin bahsah, know from where
you came”. That knowledge gives us
identity. An identity that provides direction
in life.
I remember one of my first dates with my
then-to-be future husband. It was Chol
Hamoed Succos – the intermediate days of
the holiday. When he arrived to our home,
my father invited him into our succah. There
on the table were the holy books. (It was no
coincidence – my father planted them there
in advance.)
My father explained the family tree, and
the two proceeded to sit down and study
together. The legacy of the Zeides lives on.
In the Hebrew language, the word sipur
means story. It is a special mitzva to relate
the story of the Exodus from Egypt. Rabbi
Joseph B. Soloveitchik teaches that the
word sipur, story, is related to the word sofer
– a scribe. It is up to us to be sofrim –
scribes. To write our stories for the next
generation.
Each one of us has a story to tell. Each one
of us has a personal history to transmit to
our descendants. It is our sacred duty to
create our own book of memories.
It’s time to write your story. It’s time to
bring to life the message of Ve’higadeta
le’vincha, and you should tell it to your
children.