Insights in Education from Parashat Vayera — “He Is Still Alive”!

- Is it correct to say that there are some people whom I have no ability to help or to advance?

- “Something in him has died!” said the melamed. At first glance, he seems right; but is he really?

When it seems that all possibilities have been exhausted and everyone has given up, is there still room for action — even the smallest action — that expresses some thought about him or some form of regard for him?

A deep point for reflection:

Let us contemplate the Torah’s perspective on the reality of life together with a trial.

Reviving the Child’s Soul

He is alive, he is here, he is before us, yet in essence he is dead!

Perhaps it is too dramatic to use such an expression about a living person. But when we understand, see, and discern that something in his inner world — emotional and psychological, and perhaps also cognitive — is extinguished and dried up, with no vitality at all, then seemingly there is no choice but to liken him to the dead!!!

Do I truly have nothing to do? Perhaps this is not my role, as a parent or educator, for my dealings are not with the dead but with the living.

Let us look carefully and see how our parashah relates to this matter.

One of the most significant and difficult trials, if not the most difficult of all, with which Avraham Avinu was tested, was the trial of the Akedah. Following it, the Holy One, blessed be He, told him: “Now I know that you fear God, and you have not withheld your son, your only one, from Me.”

Our Sages asked: Why was the name of the trial and its merits engraved for all generations in the name of Avraham Avinu, as it says, “And God tested Avraham”? After all, it was no less difficult a trial for Yitzchak Avinu as well, who was then thirty-seven years old and nevertheless stretched out his neck upon the altar. If so, it would seemingly have been proper to say, “And God tested Avraham and Yitzchak.”

Several explanations were given to resolve this question, but very interesting is the explanation of Maran the Beit HaLevi, who defined it as follows: the trial of dying for kiddush Hashem is easier than the trial of living for kiddush Hashem.

Yitzchak went in order to die for kiddush Hashem, whereas Avraham went to live for kiddush Hashem, for after the Akedah he would continue living without his only and beloved son. This is certainly a greater trial: to live each and every moment with the knowledge and understanding that he has no son to continue him, because he was bound upon the altar — and by whom? By his father! And by the command of Hashem! And despite everything, not to question it even with the slightest thought.

We thus learn that a state and reality of “life” bound up with difficulties is a most great and significant trial.

Divine Providence brings to the doorstep of a father or educator a child\youth\adolescent in whom “something has died,” and it makes no difference in which area this is: values, spirituality, character traits, or Jewish identity. If I succeed in breathing even a little vitality into him, then in essence I have brought more “life” into the world; the life of a Jew consists of tremendous moments of kiddush Hashem, and we have learned that it is harder to live for kiddush Hashem than to die for kiddush Hashem.

Fortunate is the one who merits breathing a spirit of life into dry bones, thereby sanctifying the Creator’s Name in the world with even greater strength.

The Lapel of the Collar — A Sign of Life!

“I was completely despaired of life,” related the boy sitting opposite me with his head bowed. “I understood that I had no chance at all, because no one believed in me. Everyone was certain that I was useless (and therefore hopeless as well...), and reality too proved that no one truly cared about me, and no one worried about me in any way.”

The result was that the boy left home, disconnected from his family, and in effect the family also made him understand that there was no place for him there.

“That day I thought of putting an end to my life,” he continued to recount openly. “But as I was sitting at the bus stop, one of the melamdim from the Talmud Torah came up behind me. He recognized me even though I had changed my appearance, patted me on the shoulder, and asked how I was. Suddenly I felt his touch as he straightened the collar of my shirt, which had been turned inside out (I had not noticed). And before parting from me, he also threw out a sentence that remains engraved in my heart to this day: ‘I have good memories of you.’

That evening I changed my mind. I felt that there was still someone who cared about me!

Through that act of straightening the lapel of my collar, he essentially gave me life!

Yes, quite literally, he gave me my life as a gift.

We have learned:

A. One must not despair of anyone.

B. Even when “something in him seems dead,” this is in fact my challenge: how to awaken and ignite the extinguished and lifeless sides.

C. The role of an educator and parent does not end in any situation; perhaps it challenges us to think outside the box.

By Rabbi Michael Zecharyahu

Spiritual director at the Torat David Yeshiva Gedolah and chairman of the Legiono Shel Melech organization