So much of Jewish culture concentrates on our children, how to lead them, how to protect them and how the Jewish family is the cornerstone of our culture/religion. Over the last year or so, each time I hear a sermon espousing this philosophy, I feel sad and inadequate. I have a medical condition which does not allow me to give birth to a child. I thought I could accept this but as I approach menopause, it’s becoming a sensitive issue for me. How does the Torah deal with this issue, both for my own self-acceptance and, in our own liturgy, for Jewish women in general?

In most cases a woman feels the sorrow of not being able to bear children far more keenly than does a man, because women are built for loving and nurturing other people, especially children. Despite some of the careerist, anti-child trends in modern society, and despite some of the feminist writings which tell women that child-bearing is beneath them and that an intelligent woman should aspire to higher accomplishments than “just being a mommy”—despite all this, most women still yearn to have children. This is how G-d created us. The first thing you have to do, therefore, is mourn for your loss and frankly acknowledge that it is a loss. Don’t let others tell you that you can’t mourn for a child who was never born or that it’s no big deal. Don’t let them minimize and deny your emotions of sadness as you approach the end of what might have been your child-bearing years. (Please see this article for poignant expression of these emotions.)

I was married and childless for 11 years before my husband and I adopted a baby—our wonderful son, who is now 18 and is learning in a yeshiva in Israel. Thank G-d for him, he brought so much love and joy into our home. He transformed our lives. (Later, we were also blessed with two daughters.)

Adoption is not for everyone, I know, but it may be something to consider.

However, there are many, many additional ways that women (and men) can fulfill their need to love and nurture others. Before Sarah was finally blessed with her son Isaac, the Torah commentaries (Rashi) say that she spent many years teaching other women to know G-d (while her husband was similarly engaged in teaching men). She was highly intelligent, she was beautiful, she had a higher level of prophecy even than her husband, she was wealthy, and she used all of her considerable talents to bring other people close to G-d. Together with her husband, she was constantly engaged in acts of kindness and ran an open house, with hospitality a daily constant.

From the prayers and deeds of Sarah, Rebecca, and Rachel—all of whom were barren for many years—we see that yearning for children is deeply rooted in the nature of a woman, especially a deeply spiritual woman who has not only love, but also great knowledge and wisdom, to give to her children. We also see that G-d doesn’t always answer prayers in quite the way one would hope (but we trust that ultimately He gives each person exactly what she needs for her soul and for her own spiritual attainments).

For instance, Rachel, who prayed for children for so many years, was finally given two sons, but she died in childbirth with the second son and did not have the pleasure of raising her own children—they were raised by another wife of Jacob’s, Bilhah. Incidentally, this also tells you that raising another woman’s children can be a great merit and accomplishment.

In the case of Hannah (or Chana), she likewise prayed for many years to have a child, and then she gave him away to be raised in the Tabernacle (the portable Temple of her time)—to be dedicated to the service of G-d. Her son, Samuel, was among the greatest of all the prophets who ever lived, but she only enjoyed him until he was weaned, after which she saw him only once a year, when she went to the Tabernacle bearing new clothes for him. This level of sacrifice on her part, which produced such an exceptionally great person, tells you that it wasn’t only the physical pleasure of having a cuddle-some baby that she yearned for, but that she yearned to produce an exceptional person who would be devoted to serving G-d all his life and would be a great Torah leader.

It was Richard Dawkins who coined the term “memes” to describe little bits of knowledge and information and ideas and emotions that are passed from one person to another. He’s an atheist who is quite wrong-headed in other respects, but this idea of his has great merit. It is not only our genes that we seek to pass on, but our memes. A lower level, ignorant person may have no memes, only genes, but an intelligent and educated and thoughtful person has a vast treasury of memes to pass on, ideas and feelings and talents and areas of knowledge. There are many ways to do this, from writing to teaching to being a good friend and listener. Our genes we can pass on only to our biological children, but our memes we can pass on to unlimited numbers of other people.

The Talmud says that a person who teaches another person Torah is considered as if he gave birth to him. Even if you can’t teach Torah, by supporting and enabling the teaching and learning of Torah (whether financially or in other ways), you can raise many “children”—students of Torah. You can support Jewish schools and synagogues and other institutions of Torah learning, and the Torah students who benefit will be your children.

Also, the Kabbalah speaks of spiritual creatures who are created each time a husband and wife have relations—spiritual children, who are “real” even though they are not physical beings. When marital relations are done in accord with the Torah—when the husband and wife sanctify their marriage by keeping the laws of Taharas Hamishpacha (“family purity”)—the spiritual “children” they create are very elevated beings.

In addition, every Mitzvah you perform and every word of prayer creates an angel who rises to Heaven. Since, as the Talmud says, even a sinner among the Jewish people is as full of Mitzvos as a pomegranate is full of seeds, it follows that every Jew produces myriads of children in a lifetime—myriads of angels.

There is a verse in Ecclesiastes (11:6) that says, “In the morning, sow your seed, and in the evening, do not be idle”—which is understood to refer to the morning and evening of a person’s life, that he should have children when he is young and also when he is older. There is another verse (often sung to a well-known melody), “Hineh mah tov umah na’im sheves achim gam yachad”—“How good and how pleasant it is when brothers dwell together.” (Psalms 133:1) In the mystical book called “Tana Devei Eliyahu”—the teachings of the prophet Elijah—it explains these two verses in a beautiful way. Elijah the Prophet says that the Mitzvos a person does create angels. He should create these “children”—these angels—by doing Mitzvos when he is young, and when he is old, in the evening of his life, he should do more Mitzvos and create even more angels. When a person does a Mitzva at a young age, and then does the exact same Mitzva in his old age—hearing the shofar, for example—the angels created by this Mitzva are “brothers” to each other, and it is “good and pleasant” when these two “brothers” dwell together, when the angels he created in his youth are joined by the angels he created in his old age.

Thus, your every act on earth, from your youth to your old age, can be a profoundly creative act, adding to the ranks of the eternal beings who every day praise and serve G-d.

I will add that, whether or not this mystical understanding appeals to you, it is certainly true that a person has almost unlimited potential to do good in the world, to do G-dly acts and to do acts of kindness to other people. If one channel of giving is blocked—the channel of child-bearing—you must find other channels to let that love and goodness flow.

In Isaiah 56:3 – 5 it says, “Let not the sterile man say ‘I am a dry tree’ (useless, unable to bear fruit). For so says G-d to the sterile ones who keep My Sabbaths and who choose what I desire and who hold fast to My covenant: ‘I will give them in My house and in My walls a Yad Veshem—a place and a name—better than sons and daughters. An everlasting name will I give them, which will never be cut off.’ ”

That is to say, although you will not have children to carry on your name and to remember you after you leave this world, G-d will remember you and others will recount your good deeds and special memories of you, and in the World to Come you will have a special place and reward for all the good that you did.

The Chofetz Chaim (Rabbi Israel Meir Kagan) wrote an entire book based on this passage. It is called “Shem Olam”—“An Everlasting Name”—and discusses what a childless person should do with the time on earth that G-d has allotted him. This book can be found among the collected writings of the Chofetz Chaim. (I must mention that I am indebted to R’ Yakov Homnick for this information about the passage in Isaiah and the Chofetz Chaim’s book on this subject.)

I will add one more verse for you, “Hazor’im bedim’ah berinah yiktzoru”—which means “They who plant with tears, will reap with joy.” For your present grief there will ultimately be recompense and joy, if not in this world, then in the next.

May you be blessed with a wonderful, sweet year, and hundreds of millions of children.
—Toby Katz