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The Mechanech’s Perspective Where Responsibility and Love Intersect – A Rosh Yeshiva’s view of “Kids at Risk” by Rabbi Shloime Mandel Children are the greatest beracha granted to a human being. Children are our link to eternity, a touch of immortality granted to us by the supreme immortal Being, Hakadosh Baruch Hu. When Rachel Imeinu was faced with barrenness, she begged Yaakov Avinu, “Hava li banim v’im ayin meisa anochi – Grant me children or I am dead” (Bereishis 30,1). Life is not worth living for Rachel Imeinu if there were no one through whom she could perpetuate those values that she held dear and that she lived for.And yet, sometimes this great beracha does not turn out the way we expect it to. Then the plea emerging from our lips cries out, “Im kein lama zeh anochi – If this [child] be so, why should I go through this?” (ibid 25, 23) When Rivka Imeinu suspected that her child would be traveling down a path of alien worship, those were the words that she uttered. Today this cry has become a chorus, a chorus of parents wondering what went wrong. How did this great beracha – this gift worth more than life itself – im ayin meisa anochi turn into lama zeh anochi. There is no foolproof guarantee that a child will develop properly by virtue of growing up in a beautiful home.1 Children cannot be raised on autopilot, on the assumption that they will “inherit” the proper values from their parents and grandparents. “Chinuch left to chance has no chance.” How then do we create a generation where all our children are inculcated with Torah values, knowing right from wrong and acting accordingly? Though our schools have a great impact upon our children, the influence of the home is still the greatest determinant of children’s future. All elements in our homes have to be in harmony with each other, like one orchestra. You cannot preach one approach, and practice another. Children will not grow up with a commitment to kedusha when videos, Internet, magazines, television – and today, even newspapers – bring the most unacceptable experiences and concepts into our homes. Two summers ago, I had occasion to call the home of a bachur learning in a local Mesivta. His parents were still in the mountains. When he answered the phone, I could barely hear him as the noise level was so high. “Excuse me a moment,” he said, “I have to turn down the volume on the video.” Irony of ironies, his parents were shepping nachas from a hundred miles away because their son had gone home early to begin Mesivta! The Art of Tochacha Perhaps the most difficult and important art to be mastered by both parent and mechanech is that of tochacha (reprimand). While we must rebuke our children when they do wrong, we must do it with obvious love in our voices, our faces and our gestures. Shlomo Hamelech advises us that “Hashem chastises the one He loves” (Mishlei 3,12). One must emulate the Ribbono Shel Olam when exercising the responsibility of tochacha. Not only must the words be laced with love, they must be based on love, and resonate with love. The elderly Rabbi Tarfon posed a question in halacha, which was brilliantly resolved by the much younger Yehuda Ben Nechemia. A smile crept onto Yehuda Ben Nechemia’s face, and Rabbi Akiva turned to him and said, “Yehuda, you smile with satisfaction for having shown the elder that he’s wrong. It would greatly surprise me if you were to live long” (Menachos 68). The Shita Mekubetzes states that there is a word missing in the Gemora’s text. Rabbi Akiva actually prefaced his comment with “Yehuda, Yehuda.” It would appear that just as Hashem’s repetition of a name – “Avraham, Avraham” at the Akeida, and “Moshe, Moshe” at the Burning Bush – was meant to convey love2, so too did Rabbi Akiva want to express love and caring for his disciple by repeating his name before delivering his strong rebuke (see Rambam Hilchos De’os 6:7). This implication is especially compelling, coming as it does from Rabbi Akiva, who lost thousands of disciples for their not having conducted themselves with mutual respect. Thus Rabbi Akiva said in effect, “Yehuda, I love you. How could you do something like this?” I and a number of baaleibattim had a meeting before last summer with several teenagers in the neighborhood – basically kids from “heimishe” backgrounds who have been involved in almost everything, including drugs, immoral conduct, etc. They asked the boys several questions, among them the very legitimate query, “What are you doing for the summer?” As one of the boys was about to answer, the questioner interjected – “Pot?” The boy later said to me, “I know I’m a piece of garbage, but did they have to advertise it in public? Maybe if he would have told me that I am a ‘tyere Yiddish kindt’ but fell and hurt myself, and he wants to help pick me up and think about the summer, I would think differently about myself. My problem is that I think of myself exactly as he said it.” We must recognize that our children feel bad enough about failing. We must preface our rebuke with an outpouring of love, and deliver our mussar with an arm draped lovingly around the child’s shoulder. Caring, love, and recognition of a child are of utmost importance, and many times are crucial to what may transpire years later. This lesson must be absorbed by parents and mechanchim alike. A number of years ago, a Yungerman who had been a talmid in our yeshiva for a short period of time, approached me with a special request. Could I see to it that the Rebbe he had had in our yeshiva receive $100 extra every month, without his knowing from whom the money is coming? I agreed, and he has continued to do so until today. I didn’t ask him any questions. Recently, he revealed his reason: “All my life, my parents and the yeshivos I attended treated me like a nobody – always finding fault with me. No warmth, no love. This Rebbe made me feel like a mentsch, caring and feeling for me. In my mind, he stands out with glowing warmth, and I will never forget him.” A major pitfall to avoid when giving tochacha is inserting our own personal agenda. “Yaakov/Rivka, do you know how you embarrass me? I’m ashamed of what the neighbors think!” “How will we be able to do shidduchim?” A parent called me saying that her husband doesn’t want to bring their son to the bungalow colony because he wears one of those flashy shirts that are not so acceptabe. He actually wanted to leave their child in the city rather than be “shamed” by his mode of dress. The child must feel that you are looking out for his/her benefit when giving tochacha, not for your own. Tell the child, “Yankele, I love you. You are a ben Olam Habba. Stop and think: is this how a ben Olam Habba would act in this situation?” Everyone’s Obligation One cannot give up hope and must pursue every available avenue to turn a child around. He/she is a Yiddishe neshama lost or gone astray, waiting to be retrieved. A former Rebbe, counselor, friend or neighbor who has a good rapport with the child can be engaged to strike up or rekindle some kind of relationship with him/her. We all have a responsibility to do our utmost to redirect the struggling, straying neshama. A Yungerman approached me not long ago with a perplexed look on his face, followed by a question on behalf of his friends: “We found out that you have been very involved with a group of boys who dared break in and desecrate the yeshiva. If anyone should be upset with them, it is you. How and why do you sacrifice so much time and effort on their behalf for over a half year?” I took off my watch and asked him if this $25 watch were lying on the ground, lost by one of these terrible boys – on drugs, mechallel Shabbos – what would he do? He looked at me with puzzlement, and said, “I would track him down and return it to him.” When I asked why, his wonder and dismay were even more evident, “What do you mean? I have an obligation of hashavas aveida!” “A lost $25 watch is hashavas aveida and a lost neshama is not hashavas aveida?” Who I Really Am, Who I Need To Be The parents of one boy who had seemed hopelessly lost received a letter from his Rosh Yeshiva, informing them that their son is a true nachas. This bachur wrote the following note: “I really don’t know how to say it, but I feel like I just learned who I am. I need time to develop myself into who I really need to be. I’ve set certain goals for myself: I put on tefillin everyday, I try to have kavana as to what the words mean. I learn two times a week; I wish I could learn more, but it’s hard. I’ll get there someday. I plan to get somewhere in life.” A member of the family told me that his mother never stopped davening and never gave up on him. She told him that she believes in him, and that she still loves him. To a great extent, the fault lies in ourselves. We can blame friends, outside influences, the yeshiva system, but basically, it is we who must mend our ways if we want to stem the tide that threatens to overtake so many among us. How can we prevent the blessing we plead for “Hava li banim, im ayin meisa anochi” from becoming “Lama zeh anochi?” By removing the “anochi” – the self-centeredness – from being the primary focus of our relationships with our spouses, we can create shalom bayis, so essential to nurturing Yiddishe neshamos. By taking the “anochi” out of our chinuch and the reprimands to our children, we can build a relationship based on mutual love and trust. By taking the “anochi” out of our attitudes towards yeshivos, we can place responsibility where it really belongs. By abrogating the “anochi” and prostrating ourselves in tefilla before the Ribbono Shel Olam, we can all be zocheh to the true Yiddish nachas that we long for. 1 See commentary of Rabbi Moshe Feinstein l”xz in Darash Moshe, in regard to Yitzchak Avinu’s fathering Eisav even though he himself had been brought up in the home of his extraordinary parents, Avraham and Sarah. 2 See Rashi, Bereishis 11, 22 |