The Short Vort by Rabbi Eisenman

It was Seder night.

The youngest in the family, Chizkiyahu, had just opened the door at "Shepoch Chamasecha" and the fourth cup was poured.

Everyone was satiated from their mother's delicious meal, and now it was time to sit back and sing Hallel to Hashem.

All the children were gathered around the table in their modest abode, and soon the sweet songs of Dovid HaMelech filled their home.

As the children sang, their father, R' Meir, scanned the room.

As he looked at his children singing praises of gratitude to Hashem, he felt himself overflowing in his feelings of thanks to the One who redeems us.

He remembered his childhood home and recalled the Sedarim of his youth.

As his mind went back to his childhood, he waxed nostalgic as he lovingly remembered the presence of his paternal grandparents and his maternal grandfather at the family Seder.

He particularly felt the absence of his beloved paternal grandmother, lovingly referred to as Bubby.

He was the first grandchild she was blessed with four decades ago, and he learned the importance of family from her.

He fondly recalled the shining face of his Bubby as she reveled in her matriarchal role while basking in the joy of being surrounded by her family.

Now, he, too, was surrounded by his own family.

Memories of his time spent as a Bachur learning in the Ponovez Yeshiva and visiting with Rav Chaim Kanievsky on Fridays danced in his mind.

Suddenly, he was shaken back to the now and the present.

The children had just begun to sing, "Ahavti Ki Yishma Hashem Es Koli…"

"I love Hashem as He hears my calling to Him…"

His eyes focused on his nine-year-old daughter Bat-Sheva.

As she sang the words, "Ahavti…" he noticed she was hugging herself as a sign of love.

And when she said, "Ki Hita Ozno Li" (He inclined His ear to me), he saw her bend her ear, metaphorically motioning the meaning of the words.

When they reached the words, "EsHalech L'fnei Hashem," "I will walk before Hashem," she began to move her feet in a walking motion.

R' Meir realized that her Morah had taught the girls the proper "motions" for this paragraph of Hallel.

Yet, suddenly, something much more profound and meaningful filled his Neshama and left him speechless in his gratitude to Hashem.

The father realized that his nine-year-old daughter was not robotically mimicking the motions taught to her by her Morah.

Rather, he realized that his daughter Bat-Sheva really and fully understood each and every word.

The epiphany was startling and profound; his nine-year-old daughter was not reading a foreign language.

Bat-Sheva's mother tongue is Hebrew, and no one had to translate the words to her.

When she said Ahavti Hashem, she used the same words she uses to say "I love you" daily to her parents.

Sitting with his children at the Seder table, R' Meir realized that more than just location had changed from his childhood home to where he was today.

His children did not need their Rebbe or Morah to translate and teich Hallel.

Here in his home in the Old City of Yerushalayim, just a few hundred feet from the future Beis HaMikdash, his children spoke the same words, used the same expressions, and utilized the same language of Dovid HaMelech.

His children's mother tongue was Dovid HaMelech's mother tongue!

Bat-Sheva spoke the same language as Dovid HaMelech.

R' Meir shed a tear of gratitude as he realized the greatness of the moment.

How do I know that?

For those same tears of gratitude came running down my face.

For Meir is my son, and Bat-Sheva is my granddaughter, and he is the one who told me the story.