Educational Insights from Parashat Miketz (Shabbat Chanukah) — “Trust in Education Is Not Just Another Tool”

Many people today speak about the vital — and perhaps even existential — need to place “trust” in our sons and our students.

From where is the meaning of the word “trust” derived?

Trust — emun — comes from the language of emunah, faith.

I believe in you!

I believe in your abilities, I believe in your strengths, and, with Hashem’s help, I believe in your successes!

It is from the same root and aspect as faith in the Creator.

And in truth, for one who reflects, the foundation of the matter is one and the same. When I believe in a student, I am in fact believing in the Creator, Who gave and granted him abilities, powers, character traits, and strengths with which to serve Him properly.

We all need trust. Trust gives strength to continue and to do good. The trust we give others has tremendous influence. A sentence expressing trust grants great strength that cannot be described.

We all need the feeling that people believe in us, that they see the good within us, beyond any fall or crisis. Yet it seems that those who need our sense of trust toward them more than anyone are our sons and students.

I will share an incident I encountered several years ago, from which one can learn the power contained in trusting students.

The tremendous power of trust

It was many years ago, when, as a mashgiach in a yeshivah for young boys, I went with the students during the summer to camp. On one of the days, we went with a large group of boys for an enjoyable and refreshing day at a water park. In the middle of the park stood a facility that required acrobatic maneuvering in order to pass through it successfully. One had to hold on to a ladder attached to the ceiling, then move to a wheel, and so on, stage by stage, until finally reaching a metal ball hanging high from the ceiling. Below was a pool of water, and anyone who fell was thrown directly into it. Few succeeded in completing the entire maze, and thus all those who tried fell in the middle of the course.

I approached a group of students standing in the long line that had formed there and encouraged them: “It is clear that you can and are capable of completing the course successfully! I have not the slightest doubt!” I repeated the words several times, simply and naturally, while deep inside I truly believed that they were capable of doing so: “Yitzchak, it is clear that you are doing this; Shimi, certainly…” And in this way I went from one to the next in that group. To spur them on, I added: “Whoever finishes the maze should come to me and will receive a surprise prize!” And behold, a wonder: most of the boys in the group did indeed pass the maze successfully, even though most of those who had gone before them had failed and fallen into the pool midway.

This is the power of trust and of increasing motivation in students and children.

You instill trust in him in the simplest and purest way, and then you discover how he draws forth from within himself strengths that seemingly had not been visible beforehand.

And when we are speaking of trust in matters touching upon a student’s spirituality, and certainly his future — and perhaps even the future of the Jewish people — these matters are needed and important beyond measure, all the more so!

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However, there is also another side to this — a painful and worrying one — regarding the absence of trust.

As we can see from the following incident:

Sages, be careful with your words!

“When hair grows on the palm of my hand, you will become a rosh yeshivah…”

On one occasion I visited the Pe’er Moshe institutions in Petach Tikvah, headed by the Gaon Rav Moshe Pinto shlita. We spoke about various matters, and he told me the following:

“I was a very young boy when I came up from Morocco. They placed me in a yeshivah ketanah. I was innocent, but filled with purpose. I learned diligently; in the evenings I would sit alone and write, summarizing the sugya in a simple manner. I said to myself, ‘I want to become a rosh yeshivah, so from now already I will prepare the shiurim that I will deliver in the yeshivah.’

One day the house manager (who functioned somewhat like a mashgiach in the yeshivah) approached me and asked me what I was doing in the evenings. I told him that I was writing. He suggested, ‘It seems to me that it would be better for you to learn with a chavruta.’ I answered him that I had to write. And when he asked why, I explained to him innocently that in the future, with Hashem’s help, I would be a rosh yeshivah, and therefore I was already preparing the shiurim. When he heard this, he burst out laughing. ‘When hair grows on the palm of my hand,’ he said, ‘you will become a rosh yeshivah’…

I almost broke. Tears stood in my eyes, and despair gripped me. I stood for a few moments with a burning feeling of insult, but in the end I shook myself off and said to myself: I will yet show him! I will show him that despite all his words, I will, with Hashem’s help, become a rosh yeshivah! And indeed, with siyata diShmaya, years passed and Hashem granted me the merit to open the yeshivah.

One year we were looking for a maggid shiur and interviewed several people who had offered themselves. And behold, a man entered who seemed familiar to me from the very first moment. I tried to remember, and indeed — it was him! The house manager! I felt a circle had closed. I asked him whether he could show me the palm of his hand, and when he was puzzled, I told him that I wanted to see whether he had hair on his palm… Of course, he did not understand what this was about, and then I reminded him of what had happened long ago.

He was ashamed and embarrassed, but I told him that my sole intention was for a constructive purpose. Every educator and builder of students must pay attention to what comes out of his mouth, for had I been a little weaker in character, I would have broken from his words, which in effect expressed a complete lack of trust in my abilities and aspirations.

[In the end, for technical reasons, his appointment to the position in the yeshivah did not proceed. When I asked Rav Pinto at that time whether the story could be publicized in his name, he told me: certainly, so that others may learn.]

How can we grant trust to others?

Clearly, this is a work of great thought and refinement, with many shades to it. Yet one very clear foundation lies here: the more we look at ourselves and at our lives — how did we grow? Who encouraged us? Who placed trust in us? From whom did we draw trust in our abilities? — and above all, when our gaze is constantly directed toward the Creator in gratitude for the past and for everything we received from Him, blessed be He, then it will certainly be easier for us to understand the value of this matter in our roles as educators and parents: how we can give full handfuls of trust to our children and students.

Self-confidence is the feeling connected with the belief that a person believes he is capable of dealing well even with negative situations. It is a feeling of the ability to manage one’s actions independently, to manage — to identify and choose — emotions, confidence in one’s perceptions and memories from similar situations, awareness of personal needs, proper direction of intentions, and correct use of internal and external resources.

When we also recall how, in any event, we succeeded in managing the events, and channeled them to another place in life (by Hashem’s kindness), and chose to be in a good and beneficial place, with the realization of aspirations — then we will know how to lead everything that Divine Providence brings before us.

Yes, to remember the good, and the trust. But even when remembering the absence of good, there is in it an enormous and powerful strength, as stated.

To perpetuate the events of life in a name

This is what Yosef HaTzaddik taught us in our parashah, Parashat Miketz.

“And Yosef called the name of the firstborn Menashe, ‘for God has made me forget all my toil and all my father’s house.’ And the name of the second he called Ephraim, ‘for God has made me fruitful in the land of my affliction’” (Bereishit 41:51–52).

Yosef HaTzaddik endured a very difficult series of ordeals. His brothers hated him, cast him into a pit, and afterward sold him several times, until he was brought to the house of Potiphar. There he became entangled with the mistress of the house and was thrown into prison. And now he had already reached tranquility and settlement, and had been appointed over all the land of Egypt; not only that, he was privileged to bring children into the world.

In giving names to his sons, Yosef reminds himself of the series of ordeals in his life. He chooses to perpetuate this through the name of his firstborn son!

After all, Yosef had reached an extremely important and established position in the land of Egypt; he was the ruler by whose word matters were decided. If so, why did he call his sons by names that testify that he had not forgotten his troubles? Why did he need to mention his painful past at such a time, when the present was smiling upon him and his status was high and honorable?

As an answer to our question, let us bring the well-known story:

There was once a simple shepherd who would go out every day with his flock to the fields, sit on a stone, and play his flute calmly and pleasantly.

One day, while he was sitting and playing, he suddenly heard cries of distress and calls for help. Immediately, as he ran after the cries, he saw the king’s daughter held captive by bandits. He quickly rushed to help her and, with strength beyond his own and with great effort, rescued her from those who sought her life. When the king heard of this, he called him to the palace, and as a reward for his deed appointed him as an important and central minister in the royal palace. The minister was beside himself with joy: from a simple and lowly shepherd he had become an important minister to the king. But he did not forget his past. From that day on, every year, when the date arrived on which he had been appointed minister, he would enter his room, put on the shepherd’s clothing, and begin to play his flute, in order to remember and awaken his soul lest he become conceited in his current state. In addition, the memory of the past would sharpen and increase his joy and appreciation for his present state.

As long as a person feels that he is accepted in the world and that the world smiles upon him, he has peace of mind. But the moment the people closest to him turn their backs on him — and not only that, but also decide to harm him and take from him even his beloved coat — this completely undermines his composure. And thus he will say in his heart: If so, from now on I cannot trust any person in the world!

But Yosef HaTzaddik was not like that. “For God has made me forget all my toil” — the ordeals were not forgotten by me; I did not forget that I had brothers, I did not forget everything they did to me. But I forgot “my toil,” meaning all the heavy burden I had carried in my heart until now, which stemmed from all those terrible emotions that accompanied those ordeals.

Now we can understand why Yosef called his sons by names that recall his ordeals and troubles. Precisely now, when his status was good and elevated, he wished to awaken his soul to Hashem’s kindnesses with him — He Who does good to him and bestows upon him abundant goodness and blessing. Not only that, but He made him fruitful in the land of his affliction. Furthermore, when he would remember his past as a lowly and tormented prisoner in addition to all his ordeals, thereby he would not become conceited in his present elevated state.

We must learn from Yosef’s conduct, to awaken and remind ourselves that all our greatness, tranquility, possessions, and status are nothing other than a gift from the Creator. For on our own, we have nothing.

If we are wise enough to live this way and to instill these practices in the education of our children, then we will not become conceited even in exalted moments, such as sweeping success and the like. Thus we will know how to properly appreciate Hashem’s kindness in all the situations we encounter; our joy in our portion will grow and intensify, and satisfaction and happiness with our lot will be our share. Most importantly — then we will know how to place trust in our children and students even when they are going through difficulties or difficult periods, because certainly, with Hashem’s help, “trust,” which is “faith,” can create an entirely different picture of reality.

Rabbi Michael Zecharyahu

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