Rabbi YY Jacobson
Like Grandfather, Like Grandson
כי בצלם אלקים עשה את האדם
For in the image of Hashem, G-d created man (Bereishit 9:6)
Sometime ago, I was invited to speak at a conference of various organizations in America dealing with children at risk and in crisis. After I spoke, I took a seat at a nearby table, only to shortly thereafter be approached by Dr. David Pelcovitz, Professor of Psychology at Yeshiva University and a renowned therapist for decades. “Rabbi Jacobson,” he said, “let me share a first-hand story with you.” Sitting up in my chair, I leaned over in eager curiosity of what Dr. Pelcovitz had to say.
“One day, a fifteen-year-old yeshiva boy from Brooklyn came to see me. He went on to explain how his family was quite renown and successful in the Torah world. Each of his brothers graduated from top yeshivos with honors and his sisters were extraordinary girls with fine husbands. Yet, for the boy personally, he referred to himself as “the black sheep in the family.” He had already been kicked out of a handful of yeshivos and struggled to excel, prompting his father to send him to me for therapy.
I could sense, however, that the boy was very special. From the very moment he stepped into my office, it was clear that he was fully of energy and intelligent. After speaking to him for a few minutes, I said, “I don’t see a real problem here. What I think we should do is ask your family to come to therapy next week. Have your father, mother, siblings, and even your grandparents come here.” While from a professional standpoint, I usually do not jump right away to include the child’s entire family in therapy unless needed, this case was an exception. I had a feeling that bringing in the grandparents would be of help to the boy, to which he consented.
Next week, in walked the boy accompanied by his father, mother, brothers and sisters and bubby and zaidy. My office was quite crowded. After a few minutes, I turned to the father and said, “You suggested that your son come to see me. Perhaps you should speak first and tell us what you believe the issue is.”
The father proceeded to get up and say, “You see, doctor, I am broken-hearted. Look at my children here. Baruch Hashem, my sons have graduated from esteemed yeshivos and gone on to become successful in learning and business. My daughters are wonderful and married superb husbands in their own right. I am tremendously blessed.
“But this son of mine is different. He has unbelievable potential and is very bright, yet he has been wasting his time. He has gone from one yeshiva to another and it hurts for me to see that he is failing and not matching the same standards of excellence his siblings have reached. I did not recommend that he come to therapy for my sake, but for his sake. I want him to dedicate his life to something meaningful and productive, and the way it is going now, that doesn’t seem to be the case.”
After the father finished saying his part, he sat back down. Silence filled the room. On everyone’s mind was who would be the next one to speak. Finally, the grandfather broke the tension. A man well into his years, he said, “I would like to say a few words.” And with that, he began.
“As you all know, I am a very wealthy man with a successful business. But after what I just heard from my son, I don’t know if I should include him in my will.” While I started thinking that maybe this group session should be moved into the lawyer’s office as it seemed to be veering towards discussions of wills and legal considerations, the grandfather turned to his son. “Have you forgotten the story I shared with you when you were a child? Didn’t you tell it to the grandchildren?” It was now the grandfather’s turn to tell his own story to the family, with me included.
“I grew up in Poland as part of a beautiful and large family. All my brothers were learning in yeshiva and excelling at a rapid pace, yet there was one black sheep in the family. And who was that? Me. If the diagnostic terminology had been around in those days, I would have been diagnosed with them all. I couldn’t sit still in school, I couldn’t read and I was out on the streets. My father had tremendous agony from me. I was not a source of nachas to my parents at all.
But one thing I did have was a good sense of intuition and shrewdness. And so, one day in 1938, I picked up a book entitled Mein Kampf and began reading. When I finished the book, I came home and approached my father. “Tatty,” I said, “Germany and Poland share a border. This man is serious. Every Jew is going to be wiped out. We must escape before it is too late.” But all my father could do was look at me and say, “Stop speaking nonsense. You know why you are saying this? It is because you are not in yeshiva. If you would be in yeshiva like your other brothers, you wouldn’t be filling your head with all this rubbish written by some crazy anti-Semite.”
Looking back at my father, I said, “Perhaps you are right that I should be sitting in yeshiva, but crazy I am not. I am clever and savvy, and I can tell you that this man is serious and will act on his convictions. We have to flee before it is too late.” But my father wouldn’t hear from it. Chastising me and saying that what I was saying was illogical, I just stood there. Yet I knew what I had to do. If my family was not going to run away, that didn’t mean I wouldn’t. And so, I painfully told my father, “I am sorry, but I will have to run away alone.” And that’s exactly what I did. Saying goodbye to my father and mother, I left Poland and crossed the ocean. But, as you all know, I was the only survivor of my entire family.
And then the grandfather pointed to his grandson under discussion. “The only reason our family exists today is because of a boy like me and him. I was different and not capable of what my other brothers were capable of, yet I still went on to become very successful. And that boy of yours is exactly like his grandfather.” And then the grandfather made his point. “So, I nicely tell you, please don’t denigrate your son. Don’t put him down and make him feel worthless. The whole reason we are all here now studying Torah and attaining success in our respective endeavors is because of a boy like him.”
After hearing this story from Dr. Pelcovitz, I was profoundly moved. But I just had one question. “Doctor,” I said, “what is the end of the story? You cannot leave me stranded. What happened to the boy? “You should know,” said Dr. Pelcovitz, “that the boy was hired by his grandfather to run his own business. And today, he is the one in charge and all of his brothers work for him. He helps support each and every one of them.”
Sometimes, we look at someone – a child, a friend, a student – and only see blackness. We see a black sheep who has little potential and will seemingly amount to nothing special. But then we look again and realize that we have made a terrible mistake. Within every child lies a world of promising greatness. It is precisely those individuals who we at times expect the least from who go on to produce the most and make us the proudest. Every child is precious. All we have to do is look closely and see their hidden beauty awaiting to shine.
