All of us impact the world around us on some level. Whether we are educators, parents, employers, employees, or friends, we all interact with others and want to have a degree of influence on the people around us. When we see someone act in a way that needs improvement, we instinctively want to share our beliefs about the proper mode of behavior, and we hope that they will listen to our advice. Many of us may be surprised that, on a regular basis, our advice is often not followed. This is becoming increasingly more prevalent even among authority figures such as parents and teachers. Of course, authority figures often have the power to use coercion, but today that causes much resentment and is only used as a last resort. What then is the most effective way to have a positive impact on others?
The main focus of this article is to answer this
question from my personal perspective as a rebbe dealing with beis medrash age talmidim. However, it is equally applicable to parents and, to a
certain extent, to all of us who have social interactions. (The essential
insights are true for younger children as well, although they have to be
applied differently than the approach discussed in this article.)
Although this seems like a modern dilemma, unique to
our generation, the formula for success was already elucidated almost 300 years
ago by the Vilna Gaon. The context is his comment on the famous pasuk in Mishlei (22:6), “Chanoch
lanaar al pi darko… Train a youth based upon his path, even when he grows
old, he will not veer from it.” On the basic level, Shlomo Hamelech is
emphasizing the importance of chinuch
at a young age, since that chinuch
will last for a lifetime. However, the Vilna Gaon notes the nuance “upon his
path,” and derives a profound insight into chinuch:
A one-size-fits-all approach is not effective. Each child has his own nature
and personality. The role of the parent and teacher is to see the child for who
he is and develop him accordingly.
The Gaon notes that if one forces the child into a
path that is not the child’s own, as soon as he grows up, he will rebel and go
back to his path. This is the meaning of the end of the pasuk, “even when he grows old, he will not veer from it.” The Vilna Gaon explains that the
“it” refers the child’s own path. This is his nature, and no matter what
is superimposed upon him, he will always return to that path. In effect, Shlomo
Hamelech is teaching us that chinuch
will only be successful to the degree that we discover the child’s personal
qualities and develop a fine-tuned chinuch
approach to fit that particular child.
Let me illustrate with an anecdote. A number of years
ago, when smartphones were first becoming popular, I was part of a yeshiva that
had a strict no-smartphone policy. Once, a talmid
who was struggling with his identity as a yeshiva bachur confided in me that he had a smartphone at home. He clearly
felt guilty about it since it was against all the messages that he had heard
from his rebbeim, but at the same time, he was not ready to give it up. He
asked me what to do. I was seemingly in a very powerful position. He had come
and asked my opinion, and here was my opportunity to enforce everything that he
had heard and protect him from harming his ruchniyus. Fortunately,
Hashem sent me the insight to realize that this talmid was not ready to hear that he should not have a smartphone.
After some discussion, I told him that he could keep his smartphone but must
get it filtered. He was in shock. He couldn’t believe that a rebbe had allowed
it. He listened and got it filtered. In retrospect, I believe that this was a
turning point on his way to becoming a thriving yeshiva bachur.
This talmid
had heard message after message that wasn’t “according to his path.” He was beset
with feelings of guilt and anger. He needed that individualized message, that
he had true value and that he was, indeed, compatible with Torah. The siyata
d’Shmaya that I received in giving this talmid
the advice that he was able to hear helped me realize the necessity of this
approach, on a broader scale.
* * *
Let us explore another dimension of this approach.
Within Torah there are many facets. There is Chumash, Nach, Mishna, Gemara,
halacha, agad’ta, dikduk, etc. Our yeshiva system has its main
and almost exclusive focus on Gemara and, more specifically, iyun (in
depth) and lomdus. This is a system that has been very successful in
producing talmidei chachamim of the
highest caliber. Yet there is a significant minority of students who either
struggle with this method of learning or who at least feel that something is
lacking and have interests in other areas of Torah.
I have seen numerous talmidim who were given the implicit or explicit message that they
will never be able to achieve anything in Torah if they don’t fully subscribe
to the standard yeshiva system. This is an important general message, because
the pressure to follow the system creates a focused environment that develops talmidei chachamim. Yet we must not lose
sight of the individual who actually needs personal deviations from the general
message in order to develop a positive relationship with Torah.
I, personally, have a great appreciation of every
element of Torah and try to find the opportunity to transmit that variety to my
talmidim. I have had talmidim who built and strengthened
their connection to Torah through interspersed insights into halacha, agad’ta,
history, and, yes, even dikduk.
Rav Aharon Feldman, shlit”a, told me many
years ago that there was a talmid at
Yeshivas Kol Torah who didn’t want to follow the yeshiva system and instead
wanted to learn Mishna Berura all day. Rav Shlomo Zalman Auerbach, zt”l, saw that this is what that student
needed and that he had a sincere drive to do so, and he allowed it. The talmid grew tremendously in his learning
and today he is a distinguished dayan. Reb Shlomo Zalman saw “his path”
and developed it accordingly.
I am not suggesting such a drastic approach under
normal circumstances, but I am saying that it is imperative to have an
open conversation with such a talmid
in which he is encouraged to find an area to develop his strengths. It pains me
greatly when I speak to a talmid who
is crushed and insecure as a result of the feedback he got for having interests
in Torah that were outside of the main curriculum.
Chazal tell us that, just as no two people look alike, they
also do not think alike. Have you ever had the experience of sharing a Torah
question or insight with a learned person who rejected it out of hand, only to
find afterwards that a talmid chacham found
it to be very insightful and accurate? Today, people are so sensitive, and I
think that we all need to become a little more like Rav Chaim Brisker.
What do I mean? Reb Chaim, in his brilliance, was able
to read someone’s Torah insight and discover through that this person’s way of
thinking and then predict how this individual would answer a question on
another topic! When his son, the Brisker Rav, was ready for shidduchim, Reb Chaim told him to
prepare a shtikel (piece of) Torah to relate to the potential
father-in-law. The Brisker Rav had to tell Reb Chaim quite a number of shtiklach
Torah, until there was one to which Reb Chaim finally gave his approval. Reb
Chaim explained that the first ones were truly excellent, but they were based
on “our” (Brisker) approach to learning, and the potential father-in-law would
not be impressed by them since he had a different approach. Reb Chaim certainly
had his own unique approach to Torah, but he also realized that others think
differently and that there are shivim panim l’Torah (70 approaches to
Torah).
One more illustration: A number of my talmidim have been drawn to chasidishe
Torah. From my experience, it important for a rebbe to allow such a talmid to learn such Torah under the
proper guidance, even if he is in a Litvishe yeshiva. It may be
appropriate to guide the talmid to
learn chasidus in a way that doesn’t
draw attention to himself, depending on the yeshiva, but why should his desire
to learn a facet of Torah be squandered or ridiculed? It might not be the
approach that we personally wish to take and, perhaps, not even the approach
that we promote for our students. But if this is what speaks to this
student, then this is “his path.”
The Chofetz Chaim once commented that the eitz
hachaim (tree of life) was specifically in the middle of Gan Eden
(as noted by the Targum) to symbolize the concept that there are many paths to
reach the eitz hachaim (Dugmaos Misichos Avi 18). In a similar
vein, Rav Nissim Karelitz was once traveling from Bnei Brak to Yerushalaim, and
he asked his uncle, the Chazon Ish, which gadol
he should see during his visit. The Chazon Ish suggested that he see the
Tchebiner Rav. Rav Nissim Karelitz was surprised at the suggestion since the
Tchebiner was chasidish – a very
different path than their own. The Chazon Ish explained, “When someone is at
the top of the mountain, it doesn’t matter how he got there, he is still at the
top!”
I try to remind myself that my main goal as a rebbe is
to help my talmidim go up the
mountain. It is better for them to take a different route to ascend than to
take my route, where, if they don’t have traction on that route, they could
fall.
* * *
These ideas are not limited to a teacher with a student
but are crucial in all interpersonal relationships. We naturally go through
life seeing everything through our own “lenses,” and it is easy to forget that
other people may have a different “prescription.” I remember one time when
someone I know was buying a gift for a bar mitzva bachur. He bought him a sefer
that he (the giver) really enjoyed and was sure that the bar mitzva bachur would appreciate as well. I
mentioned to the giver that it might be a better idea to buy a different type
of sefer since this style didn’t
speak to this particular boy. He ended up giving him the gift anyway, and I
remember that sefer sitting on the
shelf for years, collecting dust. I believe that, at a certain point, the sefer disappeared; I think that the bachur was actually a little embarrassed
about having the sefer. We all have
stories like this. It is crucial for us to ask ourselves when interacting with
others, “Is this something that the other person will appreciate?”
Once, my father related to me that an acquaintance
wanted to share a dvar Torah with him
and prefaced it by saying, “Let me tell you a vort that you’ll love.” My father commented to me that he
personally didn’t appreciate the vort;
rather, it was the one who said it to him who loved the vort. We often project ourselves onto others; it takes stepping out
of our subjective reality to assess what it may be like from another’s point of
view.
As a yeshiva bachur,
I once approached a mentor and asked about how much time I should spend on a ta’anis
(fast day) learning about the meaning and significance of that day. I was told
not to spend much time on it, and certainly not more than the time I saved by
not eating meals. It was clear to me from the answer that the person I had
asked did not invest any time in this endeavor and found little significance in
it. I left the conversation feeling disappointed that what I considered a lofty
aspiration was deemed insignificant. Today, I recognize that for me, finding the meaning behind
mitzvos and feeling inspired when doing them was really important. However, the
person I asked did not share that appreciation, so he wasn’t really able to
guide me on my path. In retrospect, it would have been better for me had
he asked me some questions about why I was seeking to learn about the ta’anis
and the emphasis that I put on avoda in general. Perhaps the guidance
should have been that if this was so important to me, then it actually was
worth investing more time into it. I would have felt understood and encouraged
in my desire to make a ta’anis more meaningful, rather than feeling let
down and as if there were something wrong with me.
I think that in my generation (and certainly in
earlier generations), most of us listened to what we were told, although it
didn’t always sit well with us. In contrast, in the generation of today’s
youth, it is becoming more prevalent to ignore what authority figures say
altogether. Rabbi Daniel Kailish offered a penetrating insight into this. He
said that the new generation is teaching us something about ourselves. Even for
us, it wasn’t emotionally healthy that true parts of ourselves were suppressed.
We just had more perseverance and respect, so we listened regardless. The new
generation of young people who can’t deal with something that doesn’t resonate
internally are teaching us that even we are missing out in our avodas Hashem if we cannot bring our
full selves into the picture.
Rav Chaim Voloziner writes (Ruach Chaim 2:8) that one should ask for advice and then follow his
own understanding. Clearly, this is referring to someone who has the maturity
and development to make his own decision. That being said, his idea is
profound. No one is able to understand me better than myself. I ask my rebbe a
question in order to gain an objective da’as Torah regarding the
issue, developed by his Torah knowledge together with his experience and
personal feelings on the matter. These insights are invaluable, but ultimately,
I am the only one who is equipped to make the subjective decisions about
my life. As rebbeim and parents (of older students and children), our job is to
empower our students and children to make their own, responsible decisions. Of
course, there are extenuating circumstances, where we have to insist on making
the decision for them to protect them from danger that they don’t have the
maturity to perceive. However, for the most part, our job is to do our best to
understand their unique strengths, guide them according to the best of our
understanding, and respect them as they make their own decisions.
I believe that this approach is the most effective in
our generation and develops emotionally heathy people. The gemara (Bava Metzia
12b) tells us (in a certain context) that a katan (child) is defined as
someone who relies on his father’s support, regardless of his age, while a gadol
(adult) is defined by someone who is self-sufficient. Rav Chaim Shmulevitz, zt”l, derived a life lesson from this.
In the context of this article, I believe that we can state it as follows: A katan
is someone who relies on others for all of his decisions. A gadol is
someone who is empowered to make his own decision.
At a bris,
we say, “This katan should become a gadol.” May we all be zocheh
to raise our children and talmidim to
become gedolim!
To reach
Rabbi Jaffee, please email him at dovidjaffee@gmail.com.
