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Caring for Parents, Dwelling in the Land, and the Cost of Language Creep

by Ram ben Ze'ev



Caring for Parents, Dwelling in the Land, and the Cost of Language Creep
Caring for Parents, Dwelling in the Land, and the Cost of Language Creep

An English reader encountering the phrase “honouring one’s parents” is already standing on unstable ground. The Hebrew commandment is not about ceremonial honour, reverence, or emotional esteem. It is about responsibility, provision, and care. The Torah speaks in the language of action, not sentiment. When we translate this obligation as “honour,” we unintentionally soften it, moralise it, and detach it from its practical demands. This is precisely the kind of language creep that slowly reshapes Torah into something more comfortable, and ultimately something less true.


The commandment commonly rendered as “honour your father and your mother” is expressed in Hebrew as כבד את אביך ואת אמך (kibbed et avicha ve’et imecha – to give weight, substance, provision). The obligation is concrete: to feed, clothe, house, and care for one’s parents. Respect may not be required; consideration may accompany this, but it is not the core. Once this is understood, many modern confusions fall away.



This clarity is essential when addressing the halachic question raised by Halacha Yomit: whether a Jew living in the Land of Israel is obligated to relocate outside the Land in order to care for parents who reside abroad. The ruling, firmly rooted in the words of the Rishonim and Acharonim, is unequivocal. Permanent departure from the Land of Israel for this purpose is not permitted.


The foundation of this ruling lies in the mitzvah of dwelling in the Land of Israel, which the Ramban establishes as a positive Torah commandment that applies in all generations. This position is shared by the Rashbetz and the majority of later decisors. Dwelling in the Land is not a lifestyle preference; it is a binding obligation.


This hierarchy of obligations is made explicit by the Maharam of Rottenberg, who teaches that one does not obey a parental command when it conflicts with a mitzvah. This principle is derived from the verse that places fear of parents alongside Shabbat and concludes with the words “I am Hashem,” teaching that all authority, including parental authority, is subordinate to the will of G-D. The Shulchan Aruch codifies this clearly: even rabbinic obligations override parental demands, since both parent and child are equally commanded.



The ruling of the Mabit sharpens this further. He addresses a case in which a son vowed to move to Israel and was later pressured by his father to annul the vow. The Mabit rules that not only is the vow binding, but that the son incurs no failure in caring for his parents by fulfilling it. His reasoning is striking in its simplicity: the parents are free to move to Israel, where the son can care for them fully. Care does not require exile from the Land.


This point is often missed in contemporary discussion. Caring for parents does not mean reorganising one’s life around their geography when alternatives exist. Torah does not require the abandonment of a mitzvah when fulfilment can occur in another form. The assumption that care must mean relocation reflects modern emotional reasoning, not halachic reasoning.


Temporary departure from the Land is treated differently. The Rashbetz permits leaving Israel briefly for defined purposes, including caring for parents, provided the intention is to return. A visit, support during illness, or a limited period of assistance does not constitute a rejection of the mitzvah of dwelling in the Land. What is prohibited is the permanent severing of that obligation.


This distinction again highlights the danger of language creep. When care is mistranslated as honour, the mitzvah is inflated into an abstract moral absolute, capable of overriding all other commandments. In Hebrew, the mitzvah remains grounded, measurable, and therefore properly balanced within the system of Torah.



There are, of course, exceptional cases. Where family unity, spiritual responsibility, or the preservation of Torah observance is genuinely at stake, a competent halachic authority must weigh the matter carefully. Torah is lived, not mechanised. But these cases are exceptions, not a rewriting of the rule.


The broader lesson extends beyond this single question. When we allow imprecise language to reshape Torah concepts, we do not merely mistranslate words; we alter priorities. Over time, mitzvot are re-ranked, obligations are sentimentalised, and clarity is lost. This is why Hebrew Synagogue has committed itself to restoring precision in prayer and teaching. Language is not neutral. It carries theology within it.


To dwell in the Land of Israel is not a convenience. To care for parents is not a feeling. Torah demands fidelity in action and fidelity in language. When we guard both, the harmony between them becomes clear.



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