So we were sitting in shul, ruining our snacks at Kiddush this past Shabbos when my child went to me and asked “Shabby, Why are we here?”

Here is the thing that I said.

“I have considered this and I don’t think it is extremely confounded. I think possibly we are here to show a child how to toss the ideal winding, turn two on a superstar to third and pick the privilege esrog.”

“We’re here to go through 5 hours searching for the last piece of chometz that your most youthful sister covered up, just to discover it while searching for Sukkah beautifications. Or then again perhaps to watch Zaidy’s face turn purple eating Maror, as Savta advises him that we won’t the clinic this evening.”

“We’re here to look at your Hollywood star of a younger sibling give the ideal version of “Hashem is here, Hashem is there” before a riveted house at the Theater of Arie Crown. Or on the other hand perhaps it’s to get a speedy look sideways at your mother and older siblings humiliating Sandy Koufax after you finish the brachos of the Haftorah.”

“I think we are here to value the minutes that don’t make it to Instagram on the grounds that the best stuff won’t ever do. Like watching Mommy’s face sparkle with satisfaction as you round third on your first grand slam or going through an hour at Great Adventure on Chol Hamoed attempting to win the Goliath-sized earthy colored bear that makes it home on the top of the van. We’re here to educate our grandchildren concerning the time we met The Rebbe at 770, and show them the $1 note that Zaidy had overlaid.”

“I don’t know kid, perhaps we are here to embrace our absolute best of companions so hard under the Chuppah, and much harder when they get separated. We’re here to go to bat for our elderly folks, to control, and at snapshots of quietness. We’re here to watch with sickening apprehension as the rescuers need to continue to run towards the projectiles and bombs in our places of worship, schools, and pizza stores; at that point stand side by side with their friends and family when they don’t return home. We’re here to recall the excursion that your extraordinary grandparents made to Ellis Island with their ticket number engraved on their arms and rise up to yell NEVER AGAIN. We are here to recall your cousin who was taken from us in Shul 4 years prior today and yell NEVER AGAIN. What’s more, we’re here on the grounds that the roads of paradise have 11 such a large number of holy messengers from Pittsburgh this week and I’m murmuring unobtrusively in your ear that consistently and perpetually we are here to stand up and yell never again.”

With a trembling voice I asked him “Does that answer your inquiry?”

He addressed affectionately “No. I implied for what reason are we still here, Mommy left 20 minutes back and we are having visitors for lunch.”