I always seem to have at least one sermon over the high holidays that is about family relationships. The juxtaposition of Abraham’s complicated relationships with wife, concubine and children with the introspection we are called to engage in, when many people have similarly complicated family lives, just lends itself well to the occasion. It is interesting, therefore, that in the time when preparation (both practical and spiritual) is underway for the holidays, that we read “Cursed be the one who insults their father or mother” (Deut. 27:16) (JPS, 2023).
In The Torah: A Women’s Commentary the following explanation is given:
“This verse refers to one who treats a parent with disrespect (m’kaleh), as exemplified by the incorrigible son in 21:18–21. This statement is similar to, but broader than, Exodus 21:17 and Leviticus 20:9, which forbid “cursing” (k-l-l) one’s parents. Our verse uses a similar sounding term, from the root k-l-h, meaning “to treat lightly.” This is the opposite of honoring a parent (k-b-d, which derives from the root meaning “to be heavy”). Children are to treat both mothers and fathers with respect (see also at 5:16; Exodus 20:12).”
This is, as is noted, the third time in which the Israelites are given a commandment regarding the way in which they should treat their parents, but there is a change in the language used that is notable. The difference in verbiage, with the root change from k-l-l to k-l-h is significant because of what we might infer from it. It seems almost obvious to say that we shouldn’t insult or curse (k-l-l) anyone, and least of all our parents, but to take them lightly? What can we read into that?
One of the hot-button topics of contemporary internet discourse, that sometimes makes its ways into more traditional media, is the estrangement of adult children from their parents. This issue became particularly visible back in 2020, when Prince Harry stepped back from royal duties and moved to the USA, and came back around again in January of 2026 when Brooklyn Beckham made it publicly known that he didn’t want to be in relationship with his parents any longer. The response to both of these men walking away from their famous families, in the mainstream and print media, was largely mocking. At both times, multiple articles were published decrying the “epidemic” of parents becoming estranged from their adult children.
The language of an “epidemic” of estrangement is interesting, though, because it assumes that people are simply deciding, with increasing frequency, that they no longer want relationships with their families. There is something revealing about the way these stories are often told. Adult children are portrayed as impatient, unwilling to tolerate the ordinary difficulties of family life, too quick to set boundaries or to “go no contact”. There is an assumption that they are treating their family relationships lightly. The Women’s Commentary points out that k-l-h, to treat lightly, is the opposite of k-b-d, to honour, which carries the sense of making something heavy.
However, estrangement is rarely as simple as it may look from the outside. Most people do not simply wake up one morning and decide that they no longer want their parents in their lives. Often, what looks like a sudden decision is the end of years of difficult conversations, attempts to repair things, apologies and disappointments. The decision to walk away may come precisely because the relationship has become so heavy that it can no longer be carried in the same way.
There are relationships in which continuing to stay close simply means continuing to hurt one another. There are parents who repeatedly behave in ways that are damaging to their children, and adult children who have tried, sometimes for years, to change the relationship and have reached the point where they cannot continue. Furthermore, Torah warns against cursing our parents, but it does not say that we must remain close to them in order to honour them. Sometimes creating distance from someone is preferable to remaining close enough to curse them, insult them or treat them with contempt.
This is why I find the language of treating someone “lightly” so interesting. The contemporary media narrative often assumes that an adult child who cuts off a parent is treating the family relationship as though it means nothing. However, I don’t believe that’s true, or fair. The family relationship is held up as the ultimate and most important of all relationships and severing a connection with family comes with (sometimes intense) social scrutiny. Even when it is comparatively easy, it often leads to awkward conversations over kiddush or coffee. People don’t tend to walk away from any long term, significant relationships flippantly. Usually, they have spent years trying to make it work, have ultimately come to recognise that continuing as things are will only lead to more anger and more hurt. At some point, the most honest way to honour the weight of a relationship may be to acknowledge that it cannot continue in the form it has taken.
Existing in community can help people come to terms with an estrangement, whether they are the initiator or not of the estrangement. Psalm 27:10, often recited during Elul, states: “Though my father and mother abandon me, God will take me in” (JPS, 2023). The Psalmist is willing to say that they have been failed by their parents. However, rather than cursing the parents or their failures, the Psalmist acknowledges what has happened and then turns elsewhere: “but God will take me in.”
What is important, when cutting off people and relationships that are harming more than helping, is to ensure that you have somewhere to process that estrangement. The Psalmist doesn’t say “my parents abandoned me, but I’ll be fine out here on my own.” Rather, they reach for the comfort of God, of community and of prayer.
The Psalmist knows that even our most fundamental relationships can fail us, but that being failed by our family does not mean that we are without belonging. In the run up to the Days of Awe, maybe we should all (even those of us with wonderful family relationships!) be looking for the ways in which God might gather us in and consider how we might gather one another in as well.
Emily Carp, LBC rabbinical student
The views expressed in this D’var Torah do not necessarily reflect the position of Leo Baeck College.