One of the most popular sections of the hagaddah is the Arba Banim, The Four Sons. In addition to being popular it is also quite profound. Perhaps most profound are the lessons in chinuch ha-banim, child rearing, that can be gleaned from the hagadda’s presentation of these four different sons.

Of all of the sons, the most intriguing, and most discussed, is the rasha, the wicked son. Much has been suggested by way of analyzing both the rasha’s question as well as the answer he is given. There are three such insights, which may be relevant in part, if not in total, to all of us as we endeavor to raise our children.

“Rasha, mah hu omer” – what does the rasha inquire about; “mah ha-avodah ha’zos la’chem” (Shemos 12:26) – what is this service to you?

As so many have wondered, the Kesav Sofer asks what about this question is so terrible? Why is asking this question the sign of a rasha? Isn’t this, essentially, the same question asked previously by the chacham? The Kesav Sofer answers by putting the stress on the word “la’chem” and explains that the essence of the question is that this son is perplexed by his parents’ personal involvement in the korban pesach ritual. “mah ha-avodah ha’zos la’chem” – why does it matter so much to you? Why are you so personally involved; couldn’t someone else, perhaps a servant, prepare the korban?

The answer mentioned by the Torah in the pasuk immediately following (12:27) is to mention God’s direct and personal involvement in our redemption: “v’emartem zevch pesach hu l’hashem” – this is a sacrifice to God; “asher pasach al batei bnei yisroel b’mitzrayim” – who passed over our homes that fateful night when he smote the firstborn sons of the Egyptians and spared the Jewish firstborn. As we reiterate elsewhere in the haggadah, the Ribbono Shel Olam Himself – as opposed to Moshe or Aharon – executed the final plague and our ultimate exodus. In commemoration of God’s personal involvement Pesach becomes, for us, a personal responsibility.

I believe that the broader parenting issues highlighted by the Kesav Sofer’s comments fall into two related categories. First, it is simply impossible to overstate the significance of our children witnessing our personal involvement with and commitment to shemiras ha-mitzvos. The indelible imprint made on a child who sees, for example, their parent studying Torah far surpasses mere exhortations about the value of learning. Children witnessing their parent personally involved in learning, or any other mitzvah, is the best way to transmit our dedication.

A second and related point is that we must never forget that our children’s chinuch is ultimately not the schools’ responsibility, but our personal responsibility. As important as the role of the school is, and no matter how good a job they may be doing educating our children, that is not a substitute for our personal involvement in their education. We cannot simply stand back and rely on the rebbeim, moros, and teachers; we must take personal responsibility for the education of our precious children.

In addition to the importance of parental involvement and responsibility, there is another lesson as well to be gleaned from the rasha.

“Mah ha-avodah ha’zos la’chem” – the Noda Bi-Yehudah stresses the choice of the word “avodah” and suggests that it is meant to conjure up images of the famous phrase used by the Torah (1:14), “avodah kashah” in describing the back braking slave labor the Jews were forced to do in Egypt. The son intentionally refers to the religious observance of his parents with the same term that was used to describe our ancestors’ bondage. To him the problem with a life of Torah and mitzvos is that it’s too hard. Why were we freed from one form of slavery if we were then subjected to another form of slavery? There are just too many rules; it’s just too difficult; the effort demanded is just too great.

Perhaps the most significant lesson alluded to by this explanation is that all too often when children view religious life as a burden it is because that was a message well learnt from us, their parents. It is not uncommon for children to imbibe this message, sometimes subtly, other times not, from their parents. Rav Moshe Feinstein used to quip that the well-known phrase “shver tzu zein a yid” destroyed a generation of children. The parents sent the message and the children got the message, loud and clear.

The message we must teach our children – through both word and deed – is just the opposite. Not a krechtz, but a smile. It’s not “shver tzu zein a yid,” it’s “gevaldig tzu zein a yid,” it’s “moradig tzu zein a yid;” it’s not terrible, it’s wonderful.

Beyond the need for personal involvement or even the message of the beauty of Judaism, there is a final parenting lesson that can be learned from the rashsa as well.

Rav Aharon Lichtenstein calls attention to the pasuk which precedes the rasha’s question (12:25) “v’hayah ki savo’ooh el ha’aretz” – and it will be when you enter the Land; “asher yitein hashem la’chem ka’asher diber” – which God will give to you as He has spoken; “u’shmartem es hu’avodah ha’zos” – you will observe this service. It’s only then that the rasha asks “Mah ha-avodah ha’zos la’chem.” Rav Lichtenstein suggests that this is no coincidence and in fact, goes to the heart of his complaint. In the mind of the rasha the laws of the Torah may have once had significance or served a purpose but now, upon entering the Land, when the social and national reality has changed, he feels that there is no longer any need for these mitzvos. From his perspective, these are antiquated rules that may have served a purpose while we were in exile but are superfluous now that we have our own homeland.

Unlike the previous explanations, this understanding of the rasha frames his attitude from a theological perspective. He is approaching the seder service with a foreign, and even dangerous, outlook. This accounts for the haggada’s very strong response of “hakeih es shinav,” – we blunt his teeth. While there definitely are times that we respond to questioners with a soft touch, it is important to realize that there are times when it is necessary to answer strongly.

Rav Lichtenstein stresses that first and foremost we must be careful not to embrace their value system or accept their ground rules in order to conduct our debate. The only way there can even be a discussion is if we “transfer the debate from their playing field to our own.” He goes on to explain that it is perhaps for this reason that the answer given by the haggadah to the rasha is not from the same parsha in the Torah as his question. “Ba’avur zeh asah Hashem li b’tzeisi mi’mitzrayim” – it is because of this that God acted on my behalf when I left Egypt (13:8) actually comes from the chapter after the rashsa’s question is mentioned. Rav Lichtenstein proposes that Chazal did this intentionally in order to “transfer the debate to a different playing field, a different parshah, with different principles and assumptions.”

The lessons that emerge from this understanding are perhaps among the most challenging for parents. It is incumbent on parents to give clear and firm hashkafic guidelines to their children. As children grow up and mature they should be inculcated with the notion that there are ideas that we believe in, and there are other ideas that we believe are simply wrong. Tolerance and respect for others does not mean being “wishy washy” about our own beliefs. The Rebbe of Ropschitz once asked why there are so many new editions of the haggadah printed each year. He answered that “it is because last year’s rashah has become this year’s chacham.” Similarly, in the world of relativism in which we live, ideologies can go from being considered depraved to decent with lightening speed. This can be very challenging for parents to confront.

But part of our responsibility, not only to our children but also to our hallowed mesorah, is to clearly and passionately transmit our belief system. We must convey the timeless principles upon which our lives are based. If we are faced with a situation where questions are being asked – literally of figuratively – that bespeak an alternate value system, then we must act accordingly. Soft-pedaling the issues or calm reassurance may be the more comfortable approach but that does not mean that it is always the right thing to do. Sometimes conversation will only be valuable if we can transfer the terms of that conversation to an area firmly grounded upon certain basic assumptions. We must choose wisely when confronted with such a challenge.

What emerges from this rich section of the haggadah is of profound consequence. The blessing of children comes with great responsibility. Some of the parenting keys which emerge from an analysis of the ben ha-rasha are the need for personal involvement, the importance of displaying a sense of happiness and celebration for a life of Torah, and the significance of conveying firmly held truths even if and when it is not the easy thing to do.

May we all merit the siyata dishmaya needed to inspire and educate all of our children.