As told to Sarah Massry

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here’s so much talk this time of year about growing and doing teshuvah, but not all of us can say we’ve seen real change resulting from our Elul and Tishrei kabbalos. How can we translate the energy and arousal of the Yamim Noraim into long-lasting change?

Let’s start by examining what usually motivates people when they attempt to change.

1. The selfish motive: People say I get angry, impatient, or insensitive. I think they’re nitpicking or overly sensitive in their assessment, but I want to change — not because I exhibit this behavior, which is beneath me, but just so they won’t complain about it anymore.
2. Sacrificial motive: My wife says I can’t continue like this and my kids say this is not okay. I’m changing to keep the peace because I am a tzadddik. The problem is not necessarily me, but I’ll sacrifice for them.
3. The disgust motive: I realize the way I am is shameful and disgusting. I can’t live like this anymore. I think I’m disgusting, and others around me think so, too.
4. The rock-bottom motive: I hit rock bottom and the desire to change comes from me. (Though this motive often does work, it’s not a necessary step to change. Some people can spend a long time getting to rock bottom, and then remain there for an extended period of time. Everyone agrees that barring extreme circumstances, this should be a last resort.)

All four of these motives usually won’t create lasting change (with the exception of hitting rock bottom, which comes with inherent risks).

Which kind of motive does produce lasting change? One that stems from a person’s sense of intrinsic self-worth.

When a person wants to work on himself, he usually falls into the trap of exclusively focusing on removing a negative aspect from his life. When we speak about growth, all too many of us have an inner dialogue of shame, resentment, and disgust running on a loop. While we’d never call anyone else stupid or ugly, many of us do say that to ourselves, justifying it as “self-awareness.”

Focusing on removing shameful actions won’t address the real problem and won’t create real change.

Often, when I ask people what they want to work through, they tend to answer with the most shameful thing they do. Not to say that they will admit it out loud, but they all agree that is the first thing that comes to their mind: get rid of the behavior that is causing me shame. Any trained ear will pick up that the behavior is usually based on a lack of self-esteem, a lack of confidence, or a lack of love. It is a symptom of how they feel about themselves. They can remove the symptom, but how they feel about themselves will remain the same.

To be clear, I’m not suggesting that we neglect dealing with our aveiros and negative behaviors. What I am saying is that we should approach them from a different perspective. Instead of letting ourselves get caught in a cycle of self-loathing, which ultimately perpetuates the bad acts, which makes us feel worse about ourselves, our aveiros can serve to show us how far we have strayed from our true selves, and how beneath us these behaviors are. We can contemplate our shortcomings through the lens of gauging the enormity of the change we will have accomplished when we replace those behaviors with positive, constructive ones.

Albert Einstein said the definition of insanity is repeating the same process and expecting different results. While we may have made kabbalos year after year without seeing concrete lasting results, the actual way to establish lasting change is to change our pattern of thinking.

There are several crucial points that are important to internalize and consistently review in our quest for lasting change.

I am not my behaviors. I am so much greater.

Consistently dwelling on negative thoughts builds our shameful, despairing side. The only way to draw ourselves out of this negative self-image is by building a different persona for ourselves, which in reality is our true self. We were created b’tzelem Elokim. We are amazing. When we feel disappointed in ourselves, it’s because deep down, we know that we are greater. These actions are beneath us.

We need to give ourselves space and time to beat this into our brains: We have so much intrinsic value just because the Ribbono shel Olam created us.

Negative behaviors need to be replaced, not eliminated. 

The only way to permanently eliminate negative behaviors is to replace them. If I’m working on jealousy, I want to learn to be more present and grateful in my life. I want to focus on my family and to be grateful for what I have around me. I want to act like a person who appreciates what I have. When I fill myself up with positive thoughts, I won’t have any room for jealousy.

I was not created or designed to be perfect.

I don’t have all the answers, nor am I supposed to. My job is to show up in the life that Hashem created for me.

There are many people who set out with the goal of “change” and expect things to happen quickly. They expect immediate progress and don’t value the hard work.

We were created imperfect because we were designed to work on ourselves. Once I accept that I wasn’t created to be perfect, I can recognize that tackling the imperfections in my character is my job in This World.

Being hyper-focused on removing negative traits can be counterproductive. If I have a bad middah, getting rid of it instantaneously isn’t a realistic goal. The productive approach would be to realize that my tafkid in life is to constantly work on this middah so that I can become bigger and better than it.

I was working with a boy when his mother asked to meet with me. Her opening bid was impressive.

“I’ve read all your articles and listened to your classes,” she said. “I watched your interview on Coach Menachem five times and it’s really helped me. I’ve worked so hard to accept my child for who he is.”

“That’s incredible!” I replied.

Then she continued. “I know that he’s never going to the yeshivah or university that his brother went to, because he’ll never get in. He will never work with children like his sister does, because he lacks the patience. He won’t have the career or the community influence that my husband and I have, and I’m on board with that. I understand that it’s just not who he is, and I’m fine with that.”

“So what are you doing to build his self-esteem? To build who he is?” I asked.

She thought for a minute and said, “I guess nothing.”

“Then you don’t know who your son is,” I replied. “You’re very well versed on who he’s not, but you don’t know what he can do. You are not accepting who he is. You are accepting who he isn’t.”

This situation is all too common, and we often do this to ourselves. We feel like our avodah is to accept that we’re nothing and to try to stay out of harm’s way by avoiding negative behaviors. So much of what people work on during Elul is eliminating certain behaviors. In reality, though, this is just the yetzer hara’s trick to keep us small-minded. When he successfully directs us to focus on removing the negative behaviors, he knows we’ll be overlooking the most important part of teshuvah: realizing what we actually can become.

Teshuvah isn’t for Hashem; it’s for us. We have to see what has been holding us back from becoming great. We have to do teshuvah for the aveiros we did and realize that we are so much bigger than that.

Ionce had the opportunity to meet with a billionaire, and I said to him, “One of the great parts of owning so many businesses must be that your kids can always be close to you by getting involved.”

“No, my kids start off somewhere else,” he said. “Either in college or at another job. Then, when they have some value to offer, I’ll bring them into my businesses.”

I must have made a face because he commented, “You don’t seem happy with my answer.”

“No, I totally get it,” I responded. “You want them to pave their own way. You don’t want them to feel entitled.”

He smiled and said, “No, that’s not it. You know why I do this? It’s because I want my children to be givers. Of all the wealthy people I know, the biggest givers and pillars of their communities are the ones who felt confident in their own value.

“The ones who were given their wealth on a silver platter are rarely taking responsibility for building and supporting others. But the person who worked hard for what he has doesn’t worry that he will lose out from giving. He’s confident that he can always take the initiative and build more.

“The person who was handed his fortune has no confidence in what he has. He feels lucky — he was born to the right people at the right time — but he doesn’t feel he deserves it.

“Having a lot does not make you a giver,” he concluded. “Being confident in your value is what makes you a giver.”

He explained to his children, “I know that you have strengths to build beyond my wildest dreams. But first you need to be in the right atmosphere to help cultivate those strengths.”

I thought that was so profound. He was setting his children up to struggle because he understood that this is a law of nature that Hashem instilled into the world: Struggle — not its absence — is how we develop who we are and how we feel about ourselves. To simply focus on removing the struggle — as opposed to building who we are through the struggle — is missing the point. The point is to become bigger through the struggles.

When I was living in Eretz Yisrael, every year before Rosh Hashanah I would take my students to my own rebbi, Rabbi Yitzchak Berkovits. He would speak to them, and then I would ask him to give them a brachah for a good new year.

Every year, he would smile and offer the same two-word brachah. He would look at my students and say, “Be big.” Then he would turn to me and repeat it: “Be big.”

Teshuvah is not just about staying away from what makes us feel ashamed and embarrassed. Real teshuvah allows us to become big people.

(Originally featured in Mishpacha, Issue 978)

The post Staying Power first appeared on Mishpacha Magazine.

Mirrer Yeshivah

Brooklyn, New York

Rabbi Yossi Bensoussan

On my 19th Rosh Hashanah, a part of my soul died. I wasn’t ready for it. I wondered why my siblings and parents never warned me. They had to have had the same experience — how could no one have thought to warn me?

The issue wasn’t the place I was davening at the year I was learning in Eretz Yisrael. Rather it was where I was coming from. I was spoiled, plain and simple. I never had to prepare myself to feel these awesome days of holiness and glory; the work was all done for me, all I needed to do was show up. And for 19 years, I thought everyone in every shul and yeshivah had the same experience. But that year, I realized they did not, and I quietly mourned not appreciating what I had.

Not everyone got to sit in the same row of seats as Rav Elya Brudny. Not every eight-year-old would subconsciously lean his head onto Rav Lazer Ginsburg when he drifted off, only to be awakened by Rav Ginsburg’s soul stirring, “Hamelech!” But as a child of one of the lucky Moroccan Jews to have been brought to America by Mir Rosh Yeshivah Rav Avrohom Kalmanowitz, I did.

These giants sat to my immediate right and left. If I turned around, I would see other rabbanim such as Rabbis Dovid and Zevi Trenk. These rebbeim of the Mir would cry real tears while singing from the deepest parts of their souls. I might look behind me briefly, because to any child, the sight of a grown man crying that passionately is astonishing. But mostly, my eyes were transfixed directly ahead. Not because I was davening or focusing on the awesomeness of the day. Not out of choice or desire to connect. But because staring directly back at me, straight into my soul, were the piercing blue eyes of Rav Shmuel Berenbaum. I remember as a young child asking my father who he was. My father smiled and replied, “Yossi, that’s a sefer Torah.”

When Rav Shmuel Gedalia Pollack would fall quiet for a moment during his chazaras hashatz to listen to the ticking of his watch, you could hear a pin drop. And when his voice rose again, you felt him pulling your heart with him on this journey of malchus.

The post Small Shofar, Booming Call     first appeared on Mishpacha Magazine.

I got to the coffee shop late.

As a general rule, I’m usually late. I would love to claim it’s an occupational hazard, but the truth is it has nothing to do with my job. As my wife, my students, and my editors will tell you, I’m just always late.

In this case I was only five minutes late, which was fine, because the guy I was supposed to be meeting wasn’t even there yet. I ordered my coffee and sat in the back corner table. I don’t mind when people are late (I guess I don’t really have the right to be) — I can always work while I wait. I pulled out my phone and started to respond to some week-old emails.

“I know your shtick!”

I looked up. The guy standing in front of me was wearing sunglasses, a pink shirt, and tight jeans. He was holding a milkshake the same lurid color as his shirt. I couldn’t help but notice that he wasn’t wearing socks.

He sat down across from me. “You’re Simcha, I take it,” I said, stretching out my hand.

“Call me Randy,” he said.

“Why would I do that?”

“I like the shtick with the cap and the getting dressed up,” he said, indicating my clothes. “I read some of your stories, they’re cute.”

I looked down at what I was wearing — same thing I had been wearing for the meeting before this. Did he just call my articles cute?

“You know, we’re the same,” he said confidingly. “I read people, too. Look, I know why my brother wants me to meet with you, but it ain’t gonna work.”

“Hi, my name’s Yossi,” I said.

“Ha! I know who you are! I know what you do. I’m just telling you, we’re wasting our time.” He leaned back and folded his arms, smirking at me like this was a game.

I’m not very good at games.

“What exactly is it you think I do?” I asked.

“You read people, then you convince them to do things.” He said this very matter-of-factly.

“If that were true, then I would agree with you that this is a waste of our time. But I don’t believe anyone really has those abilities,” I said. “And since that’s not actually what I do, then maybe you can’t know yet if this is a waste of time.”

“Then what do you do?” he asked.

“Well, I definitely don’t read people. I listen to them, try my hardest to understand them. There’s a very big difference,” I told him. “And I don’t convince anyone of anything. I just act as a sounding board for people who are figuring out what they want to do.”

“A sounding board,” he said, making quotes in the air and rolling his eyes. “I don’t need a stupid sounding board. I do what I want. Period.”

“ So tell me, Simcha, what is it you want to do?”

“I just want my freedom,” he said immediately. “Is that so bad?”

“Can you define ‘freedom’?”

“I’m turning 18, I want to do whatever I want. I’ve been so sheltered my whole life. I don’t want to go to Israel, I don’t want to go to yeshivah, I just want to move to Cali and chill,” he said.

When Simcha’s brother had called me, he’d informed me of the extracurricular activities that Simcha was involved in. They were far from innocent. My goal here was not, contrary to what Simcha thought, to get him to go to yeshivah. My goal was for Simcha to modify his lifestyle before it was too late.

“So basically, your goal is to chill with no one on your back,” I said.

He looked at me suspiciously and gave a cautious yes.

“Look, people need to make mistakes and figure out life for themselves. I can totally understand your wanting to do that,” I told him. “Why is your brother acting like such a buzzkill?”

“Thank you! Also, it’s not like he didn’t have his turn to party, by the way,” he said conspiratorially.

This I knew was true — I had been with his brother through his struggles to put his life back together.

“I don’t know,” I said. “I don’t see the problem.”

“Exactly,” Simcha said, grinning.

I grinned back. “I mean, I completely disagree with just about everything you said, but it’s not the end of the world. I don’t think you need me. No offense, but you’re just immature and that will pass with time.”

He looked confused. I stood up and started pulling on my coat.

“Wait,” he said, “that’s it?”

I turned to him. “Were you expecting something else?”

“Well,” he said, looking at me like I’d let him down, “aren’t you going to try to talk me out of it?”

“Ha! I’ve been doing this long enough to know when I don’t stand a chance,” I said.

For one instant he lost the façade. “I’m beyond help?”

The question wasn’t for me. It didn’t even seem like a question. More like a confirmation.

“No, the opposite,” I replied.

He looked up at me standing there.

“Want to talk about it?” I glanced down at the seat I had just vacated.

“If you have time, I mean…”

Simcha wasn’t going to listen to a word I had to say as long as he was being forced by his brother to talk to me. He was too protective of his independence. It had to be his idea.

I sat back down.

“You’re not beyond help. You’re just not ready for it. Despite the show you put on, you’re a scared and lost kid. Your plan makes no sense. Your definition of freedom is so far from anything resembling freedom, I’d be surprised if you could spell ‘freedom,’” I said.

He looked like he’d been hit by a train.

“Look, you’re a good kid, and I understand why you want what you want, but it’s not freedom,” I said seriously.

“You don’t think I could take care of myself?” he asked.

“Well, you forgot to wear socks today, so I’m guessing you can’t.”

He laughed.

“I’m sure you could take care of yourself, but what you’re describing now is survival, not freedom. It’s better than what you were describing before, which was anarchy. Survival mode might make you successful. You’re a talented guy and you’re very likable. But although survival is a powerful tool for success, it’s also insatiable. You will never be content. You will never be able to be happy in the moment. Your life will just be about stress and the next move to stay alive.”

He was listening intently now. Something about the description was resonating with him.

“Now, freedom is something entirely different. Freedom is earned. You’re the only person who can give it to yourself. And it starts with the decision that you value being free in every moment more than you value feeling or looking good. That’s where we start, at least.”

He sat there for a minute, thinking.

Then he looked directly at me. No smug looks. No false confidence. Just raw emotion on his face. He leaned in and said, “You really think I’m likable?”

The question hurt so much. I swallowed.

“Yes, despite your insufferable arrogance,” I said, smiling. “You’re likable and you have a lot to look forward to. But you’re scared to commit to being free.”

“I am free, I do whatever I want,” he repeated, without too much confidence.

“No, you don’t. You do whatever you feel like doing. You have no idea what you really want and that’s what scares you.”

He stared at the milkshake, looked back at me, then back at the milkshake. “Fine,” he said. “What do I really want?”

I smiled and shook my head.

“Oh, right,” he said. “Okay. I want…” A host of emotions played across his face.

“Go ahead,” I said. “I’m listening.”

Identifying details have been changed to protect the privacy of patients, their families, and all other parties.

Rabbi Yossi Bensoussan serves as mashgiach ruchani at Yeshiva High School of Cleveland. He is a Certified Alcohol and Substance Abuse Counselor (CASAC) who currently maintains a private practice, and does motivational speaking and community education on addiction all over the US and Israel.

(Originally featured in Mishpacha, Issue 854)

The post Freedom   first appeared on Mishpacha Magazine.

The couple sitting in front of me had been married a year and were having difficulty communicating.

Not uncommon and not life-threatening. But they said they had “tried everything” already, and they were still struggling.

“When you say you’re going to be home at seven, I expect you at seven,” Suzy said. “I don’t see why that’s so unreasonable.”

“I can’t live always worrying that I’m going to be five minutes late!” Baruch shot back.

They’d gone around in circles like this the past two times we met. The tools weren’t working. When tools of communication, or any tools for that matter, are falling short, that doesn’t mean they’re ineffective — it means they’re not addressing the root of problem.

And that’s what I was missing. The root of the problem.

“Guys, we’ve been through this before, but let’s revisit a few key points,” I said. “There’s no right and wrong, there is only communicating or not communicating, respecting each other’s position or not. Right now it seems to me that you guys are not speaking the same language. I’m struggling to figure out where the miscommunication is happening.”

“I don’t know how better to communicate that I live in fear that I’m constantly going to be doing something wrong and she’s going to be upset at me. I’m forever apologizing for things without knowing what I did wrong!” Baruch told me, frustrated. “It’s like she’s always waiting for me to mess up and then she finally has a reason to be upset!”

“Baruch, we spoke about this. I’m not the judge or jury. Say it to Suzy, not to me.”

It seemed to take a lot of energy, but he turned and said it to her. Just softer.

Suzy didn’t respond. But something flashed across her face. I couldn’t read it. She crossed her arms, leaned away from Baruch, and shot a quick glance at me. Then she looked out the window.

Suzy was highly educated and owned her own successful business. She was pretty accomplished — especially when you took into account her age. She had every reason to be confident. But I wasn’t looking at a confident 20-something who had things figured out. For one moment I saw a child. A scared, vulnerable child.

I was missing something. But I wasn’t the only one. Baruch was missing it too. This wasn’t about miscommunication. This was about non-communication. Suzy wasn’t saying something.

“Suzy, can I ask you something?” I said cautiously.

“You think he’s right and I’m overreacting, I should just not care about it and stop being so petty, right? You think I’m being needy and ridiculous!”

“Quite the opposite, actually. I want you to tell Baruch what’s going on in your mind between the time he said he was going to be home and when he actually gets there.”

She looked away again. We were getting somewhere.

There was a long pause.

Suzy pressed two fingers to the corners of her eyes and breathed deeply. “I feel like he—”

“Not to me,” I interrupted. “To Baruch.”

She turned her head in his direction and looked down.

“I feel like you don’t care that I’m waiting for you to come when you said you would. That me waiting and you saying that you would be there doesn’t mean anything to you. I feel…. I feel like a fool. Like I’m… worthless, like…”

Her voice trailed off.

“Why would you think that?” Baruch said. He looked shocked.

Suzy glared at him. “I need some air,” she muttered. She walked out.

Baruch looked at me. “Yossi, I am more and more confused every day. I have no idea what I’m supposed to do. Especially when she walks out. I try giving her space so she can calm down but she comes back even more upset.”

“Maybe she didn’t want space,” I said. I didn’t want to admit it, but I was just as stumped as Baruch. The session was almost over. I felt like we had been on the verge of a breakthrough, but it was slipping away. What was it with Suzy? She was a pretty laid-back person in general, but on the things she was sensitive about, she was sensitive to an extreme.

“You mean I should go after her?” Baruch asked, interrupting my thoughts.

“Huh?”

“You said maybe she doesn’t want space, if she’s coming back still upset…” he reminded me impatiently.

“Um… yeah, if space isn’t helping, then she…”

Baruch just waved a hand and walked out.

A few minutes later, Baruch and Suzy both walked back in and took their seats.

It was quiet for a moment.

“How did you know?” Suzy asked, looking at me.

“To Baruch, not to me,” I said again.

“No, I’m asking you. How did you know?” she repeated. I was stunned to see Baruch tearing up.

“I’m gonna need a little more context,” I mumbled, trying to figure out what was going on. “I say a lot of stuff… I’m not always paying attention...”

“How did you know how I would react if he came after me?” she clarified.

“Oh, that was easy,” I said with exaggerated confidence. “I’m just very good at what I do. So good, in fact, I even impress myself sometimes. Now, for instance, I got it right without even knowing what ‘it’ was or what it was that I got right.” I held up my hands. “I know, I know, I’m the best. No need to applaud.”

Both of them stared at me.

“I’m joking.” I looked at Suzy. “I have no idea what I said to make Baruch go after you, or if in fact I said anything. To be honest, I think Baruch really knew what he had to do and just needed it to click. My instinctive reaction would actually have been to tell him to give you a minute,” I admitted, “but I’m really hoping you can explain what’s going on.”

“When Baruch followed me out, I realized something,” Suzy said. “Every time I walk out, I’m trying to prove to myself that he doesn’t care if I leave. Like I’m just dead weight and he’s probably happy if I leave so he won’t have to deal with me and my issues.” She blinked and swallowed. “I’m from a large family… When I was a kid and I would get upset, I would run outside and hide and no one would ever notice. No one ever came after me to ask what was wrong or to see where I was. I would wait and wait and no one even called my name. I felt so…”

“Worthless.” Baruch finished her sentence for her. There was understanding written all over his face. “All this time, you never mentioned any of this. Why?”

“I don’t know… I guess I never connected it. But when you followed me out I realized it was the first time anyone had ever done that… Like this is what I had been waiting for my whole life.” Now the tears were falling. “Maybe I was afraid that if you knew my family couldn’t care less if I was alive or dead maybe you would… I don’t know… realize they were right.”

Baruch didn’t need me to remind him to talk directly to her. He turned to Suzy and said just a few sentences.

Then they left.

I’m happy to say I never heard from them again.

Identifying details have been changed to protect the privacy of patients, their families, and all other parties.

Rabbi Yossi Bensoussan serves as mashgiach ruchani at Yeshiva High School of Cleveland. He is a Certified Alcohol and Substance Abuse Counselor (CASAC) who currently maintains a private practice, and does motivational speaking and community education on addiction all over the US and Israel.

(Originally featured in Mishpacha, Issue 848)

The post Waiting All My Life  first appeared on Mishpacha Magazine.

Hey Rabbi,

My 15-year-old son Meir is destroying our entire family. He breaks Shabbos and talks about all kinds of secular things that are totally inappropriate. My other kids complain that he gets away with doing whatever he wants and get resentful that they have to follow the rules. I feel like I have a terrorist living in my house!

This is probably one of the most common questions I get.

But it’s tricky to answer, because the dynamics of every situation are different. A rav or therapist should be consulted regarding the specifics of your situation.

When you look at the question, you can feel this parent’s fear. They are terrified that Meir is taking over their household and ruining their other kids. That’s an indication of a larger problem — an imbalance in the family hierarchy.

Parents must first and foremost be confident. Confidence in parenting doesn’t mean that you always do the right thing or even know what the right thing to do is. Confidence in parenting means having confidence in the time and love that you have invested in the relationships and values that exist in your home.

That love and connection is what gives you the power to create and maintain order within the family. If the hierarchy of the family is being challenged, creating an imbalance of power, that’s not the fault of the child who is acting out. He or she is just shining a light on the fact that they can (and do feel a need to) rebel.

When the unconfident parent is challenged, their reaction is fear. Fear that this child can topple everything by pointing out what the parent knows but does not want to admit — there is no one at the helm of this ship. Anyone, at any time, can take the wheel and steer. Therefore, the challenging child (or anyone else in the world who has a different opinion from the parent, for that matter) poses a threat.

That fear will drive the parent to try to take back control and neutralize the threat. But without the power of love and communication, the parent typically resorts to shame and blame. These tactics never work. They will just cause the child’s behavior to get worse.

A word on exposure: It is impossible to forever protect your child from being exposed to ideas that you don’t agree with. The good news is that just because your child is exposed to something negative doesn’t mean they will immediately pursue it — even if it’s appealing or looks like fun. But being exposed can cause a child to want those pleasures if the child is uncomfortable at home, feels insecure at home, or their home experience is otherwise not positive. If a child is happy, content, and secure with the lifestyle his parents model, exposure to the outside world (even through a sibling who is “getting away with it”) will not destroy that.

With that said, let’s discuss solutions.

Meir presents a negative influence toward your other children. Negative influences need to be tackled on several fronts simultaneously.

1. Communication. You need to have open and honest conversations with your children about what their struggling sibling is going through, in terms they can understand.
2. Happy home. When your children see how much love and happiness your lifestyle brings you, they’ll naturally be attracted to that lifestyle. The love and happiness need to be clear to see through your actions. Words are not enough.
3. Love. This might be the most important factor. Shame and blame are the opposite of love and acceptance. Never shame a child for acting out. Never blame them when anyone else acts out, or for how their misbehavior makes you feel. Show Meir love and acceptance by showing that you understand the difficulties he’s experiencing. When you do this, you send a very clear message to your other children as well: Mommy and Abba love you no matter what. We want to understand you. We will always accept you.

When you address all these fronts, you eliminate the power of the negative influence and reinstate the hierarchy. When there is communication, a happy home environment, and unconditional love, the other children in the family will follow your lead. Like their parents, they’ll feel empathy for their struggling sibling. The things that Meir is doing will not tempt them — they’ll accurately perceive it as a woefully inadequate replacement for the love and happiness that Mommy and Abba have. These realizations grow organically as your children watch you in action and absorb your reactions and attitudes. You are the captain of the ship.

Whenever I explain this to parents, I often get this response: “Well, that’s fine for influences that I can’t control, but I don’t have to allow negative influences in my own home!”

But you’re not going to throw your own child out of the house just because you’re afraid of negative influence. You have to deal with it by communicating with your children directly. Which is not such a bad thing — where else do you want them to learn about these ideas and concepts? Where else do you want them to learn why your way of life is more beautiful and fulfilling than anything the outside world has to offer? Where, if not from your own home?

Let’s look at an example of how this might play out. Meir is smoking on Shabbos. You call your younger son Shmuly to the table to bentsh and he screams, “Why do I have to? Meir doesn’t!”

At this point, an unconfident parent panics. Help, Meir is ruining everything! So he yells at Meir, “Are you happy now?! Do you see what you’re doing?”

That reaction doesn’t answer Shmuly’s question and it doesn’t help Meir make better choices. That reaction tells Shmuly, My parents have no control over this family. It tells Meir, You are a horrible person and we wish you would just disappear. The encounter resolves nothing and leaves Meir, Shmuly, and their parents shaken, angry, and scared.

But a confident parent isn’t afraid of the question and therefore doesn’t panic. The confident parent communicates honestly and openly with Shmuly about the pain Meir is struggling with, why he’s behaving the way he does, what’s the most effective way to react to him, and how difficult this must all be for Shmuly. After such a discussion, Shmuly views himself as mature and a confidant of his parents. He also gets an invaluable lesson in love and acceptance. The encounter brings him closer to his parents, further from Meir’s poor choices, and leaves him feeling secure in his parents’ love and leadership.

When Meir acts out, that’s an opportunity to demonstrate love, acceptance, and empathy. When your other children challenge you about Meir’s behavior, that’s an opportunity for communication and empathy toward them. When you maintain your calm in the face of these challenges, you’re creating a happy home and modeling a joyful and loving lifestyle that your children will naturally be drawn to. When all these factors are in place, you restore the family hierarchy and stop reacting out of fear.

Have a question for Rabbi Bensoussan? Email info@mishpacha.com.

Rabbi Yossi Bensoussan serves as mashgiach ruchani at Yeshiva High School of Cleveland. He is a Certified Alcohol and Substance Abuse Counselor (CASAC) who currently maintains a private practice, and does motivational speaking and community education on addiction all over the US and Israel.

(Originally featured in Mishpacha, Issue 844)

The post “My Son Is Destroying Our Family!” first appeared on Mishpacha Magazine.

I don’t know much about sports. Never been an athlete. It just wasn’t my thing.

But it didn’t take a sports buff to see how good this kid was.

It was a cold Motzaei Shabbat. I was standing with hundreds of other people, watching as the final teams of the night played for the final spot in the flag football playoffs. For this crowd, it was a very big deal.

I spotted Akiva across the field. He was standing with his players, giving a pep talk.

He was the reason I was there.

“I need you to come see something,” he had told me over the phone. His tone was serious.

“If you need help on the court, I’m the wrong guy,” I said.

“It’s football, Yossi,” he said. “There is no court.”

“I’m not sure how I can help,” I said again.

“Just come to the game,” he said. “Watch number 17. We’ll talk after.”

So here I was and I had to admit that number 17 (whose name was Mike) was really something to watch. No matter what yard he started at, it seemed that as soon as he got the ball, he was bringing it to the end zone for a touchdown. He ran, pivoted, and spun around the opposing team like they were moving in slow motion. He was fast as lightning and could stop on a dime. No one could come within five feet of him. He was unstoppable.

“Well, that was a waste,” I told Akiva when the game was over.

“What?”

“If you’re going to show off, at least do it for someone who’ll appreciate it,” I joked. “That kid is incredible. He was the fastest by a long shot. You’re going to win the whole thing with that kid.”

“That’s the problem,” Akiva said.

“Someone being that good is a problem? He carried the whole team, Akiva, he was—”

“He was stone drunk the entire time,” Akiva interrupted.

Oh, so that’s why I was here.

The league had a no-drugs, no-alcohol policy that they took very seriously. But if Akiva just wanted to cover himself and hear if this kid could make it through the season without getting the whole team disqualified…

“I highly doubt anyone is going to find out if he’s playing like that,” I said finally. “I mean, even I couldn’t tell.”

Akiva stopped walking. “That’s what you think of me?”

“I’m sorry,” I apologized. “I just had to know what your intentions were.” It was the force of habit and a mistake.

“You know me better than that, Yossi.”

I did and I apologized again. Then I asked him what the plan was.

“He’s going to meet with you and you’re going to do your thing,” Akiva said, like it was obvious.

“Sounds simple enough,” I said sarcastically. “What if he doesn’t want to come?”

“I’ll tell him to. He will.”

“But if he’s able to play a game like that while drinking, he has a serious alcohol problem. He might need a detox or even rehab. This stuff doesn’t happen overnight. And it’s a tough journey, are you sure he’s up to it?”

“He’s a warrior,” Akiva said. “He can do it.”

Mike showed up at my office the next day. In the light and proximity, I saw everything I’d missed at the game. The flushed complexion, red eyes, slight slur in his speech. But still — if I hadn’t known, would I have picked up on it?

We talked about the game and Mike told me a little about himself. He was especially eager to share the story of his journey from a preemie to a kid with leg braces to becoming the greatest player the league had ever seen. I was impressed. Akiva had told me he was a warrior, but I hadn’t realized what he meant.

“So Mike, what are we doing here?”

Mike leaned back and his voice got lower. “I know I have a problem with drinking. But I don’t want to stop right now.”

“Okay, so when?” I asked.

“After the season.”

“Mike, there’s always going to be a reason not to get clean. You need to get help with this and start the fight. I can’t start it for you and I can’t fight it for you. It’s not my fight, it’s yours and yours only. Now, if you’re in denial or too afraid or weak to fight, then there isn’t anything I can do.”

I knew I’d hit a nerve. It was uncomfortable but I couldn’t stop there.

“I mean, the risk of waiting is that when the league finds out, and they will, your team will suffer the embarrassment of being disqualified from competing.”

He stared at me. He knew I was playing him. But there is a button that warriors have and once you push it, they only see winning.

I knew three things about Mike. He defined himself by the tough times he overcame. He was loyal. And he didn’t lose. No one can get clean unless they make the choice to get clean. I had to use his strengths against him so that he would view sobriety as a new challenge to win.

He said nothing, just sat and stared out the window.

I broke the silence.

“You need to make a decision, Mike.”

“I can’t do it,” he said. He stood up and left.

I went to the game the next week. Maybe if I showed Mike support on the field, he’d accept it off the field too. Akiva was doing his usual pre-game pep talk. I scanned the players for number 17.

He wasn’t there.

The game was about to start. “Where’s Mike?” I asked Akiva.

“Rehab,” he said. He gave me the thumbs-up.

What? “He went?”

“Yeah, you didn’t know? Typical Mike, he likes to stay in control.” He laughed.

I was genuinely shocked.

“I told you,” Akiva said, looking at his clipboard, “he’s a warrior, we’re impressive.”

I found my voice. “We?”

“Yeah,” he said. “The Warriors.” He pointed to his shirt.

For the first time I took in the name of the team — The Warriors.

I stayed and watched the game anyway.

The Warriors lost.

The warrior won.

Identifying details have been changed to protect the privacy of patients, their families, and all other parties.

Rabbi Yossi Bensoussan serves as mashgiach ruchani at Yeshiva High School of Cleveland. He is a Certified Alcohol and Substance Abuse Counselor (CASAC) who currently maintains a private practice, and does motivational speaking and community education on addiction all over the US and Israel.

(Originally featured in Mishpacha, Issue 842)

The post Warriors Don’t Lose first appeared on Mishpacha Magazine.

Besides being the backbone and bedrock of our system of learning, questions are a window into a person’s soul. When people offer answers, they might be based on opinion, ego, or a distortion of reality. But a question is always based on an inner conflict. Questions are honest, raw, and real. A question is a person being vulnerable. What’s your question?

The Question

Hey Rabbi,

I

’ve heard so much about the importance of love and acceptance when interacting with people who are challenging or engaged in at-risk behaviors. But with all this talk about love and acceptance, there is usually no discussion about what to do when it doesn’t work — the person reacts unhealthily, or continues to engage in self-destructive behavior, or just doesn’t respond at all. Then what?

Akiva

The Answer

T

his is a very important question and one that deserves discussion.

Let’s start with a fact: People are afraid to accept and love each other. Sometimes this is because we’re afraid that if we display acceptance and unconditional love to someone, that translates as tacit approval of their choices and behavior. This is not a baseless fear.

However, acceptance and unconditional love are necessary before any move can be made to correct or condemn. At the recent Agudah convention, Dr. David Leiberman said, “People do not care what you know until they know that you care.” I’ll add that people cannot know that you care until you prove it through acceptance and love; that’s the prerequisite for an individual to be willing to listen to you. When someone rejects your help or acts out when you are trying to help them, it’s often because this step was skipped.

The way to show acceptance and love is according to the recipient’s definition of love, not the giver’s. I can work all day to keep a roof over my kids’ heads because I love them and accept that they won’t be helping out with the rent. But if I miss a Drawing Funny Monsters Date with them, they won’t be feeling my love. My definition of love is supporting them and keeping them safe, their definition is spending time drawing funny monsters. If the goal is to get them to realize my love for them, then my definition is irrelevant.

Let’s analyze Akiva’s question. At first glance, it seems that Akiva is struggling with being supportive and accepting toward a person who is being difficult — let’s call him X (sorry, after 39 columns I’m done making up names). Akiva wants to know what to do if acceptance and love are not working. But in just about every situation where acceptance and love are “not working,” it is not the acceptance and love that’s the issue. Rather, it is the way you define “working.” Whenever anyone says something “isn’t working,” I ask them to clarify what “working” would look like. This usually reveals an ulterior motive. In this question, we get a description of what “not working” looks like: the person reacts unhealthily, or continues to engage in self-destructive behavior, or just doesn’t respond at all. “Working,” then, would mean that X becomes a healthy, productive person who doesn’t engage in at-risk behaviors.

The goal here seems to be to fix X, not to accept and love them. When I said earlier that acceptance and love is a prerequisite, I meant it literally. It on its own is a goal. Only once that goal is accomplished can we map out how to help (not fix) the person.

In this case the first step (love and acceptance) is being skipped because Akiva is in a rush to fix X. But you aren’t supposed to fix people — you’re supposed to understand them. (Trying to fix someone will lead to shaming them; shame is never effective or productive. Ever. Except for… wait, sorry, nope, no exceptions. Shame is always bad.) The opposite of trying to fix someone is acceptance.

It’s not my responsibility to fix anyone — not even my child or my spouse. My responsibility is to show love and acceptance. What will the results of love and acceptance be? The results won’t necessarily be any change in X. Rather, the results will be a change in Akiva. Love and acceptance are “working” when Akiva feels at peace with who X is.

X might not respond or reciprocate, but that’s not Akiva’s responsibility. X will meet their responsibilities when they’re ready. And if Akiva fulfills his responsibility of unconditional love and acceptance, then when X is ready, it will be easy and natural for him to turn to Akiva for help and advice.

Have a question for Rabbi Bensoussan? Email info@mishpacha.com.

Rabbi Yossi Bensoussan serves as mashgiach ruchani at Yeshiva High School of Cleveland. He is a Certified Alcohol and Substance Abuse Counselor (CASAC) who currently maintains a private practice, and does motivational speaking and community education on addiction all over the US and Israel.

(Originally featured in Mishpacha, Issue 840)

The post What to Do When It Doesn’t Work first appeared on Mishpacha Magazine.

"You want me to just stand by while this happens in my family?” Mrs. Taub said in disbelief. “Just allow this to happen to him and say nothing? I see you’ve never been a mother.”

“The beard kind of gives it away,” I said, trying to defuse the situation. “But I stand by what I said. You are in a supporting role. You need to let go and mind your own business.”

That was the line that had gotten her so riled up to begin with. I was trying to use it as often as I could; hopefully it would become easier to accept.

It didn’t work.

“This is why I don’t believe in therapy!” Mr. Taub announced.

“I don’t even know how to respond to that,” I said, “but anyway, I’m not a therapist.”

He leaned forward like he was interrogating me. “What’s your degree in, again?”

“I don’t have one,” I said flatly.

I’m not usually this confrontational, but it was important to get the Taubs riled up and yelling at me. Let them get it out of their system. They wanted to be heard and had been biting their tongues for too long. Better they fight with me than… certain other people.

Mr. Taub pointed dramatically to me. “He’s not even a therapist!” he told his wife.

I opened my mouth to point out the inconsistency in Mr. Taub’s relationship with therapy, but his wife held up her hand.

“You can’t expect a mother to let this behavior go without saying anything,” she asserted.

“That may be true, but it’s irrelevant,” I said.

“How is it irrelevant, exactly?”

“Because you’re not his mother.”

“I’m his grandmother!”

“I understand that, but you need to be respectful of your daughter and her husband.”

“They’re cowards,” she spat. “And they’re in denial. They need serious hadrachah. He’s using drugs and they act like they don’t care!”

“That’s the problem,” I said.

“I know it is! So what do we do about it?”

“No,” I said. “The fact that you feel that their behavior is cowardly is the problem. It’s not the direct issue with your grandson, but it is the issue with your relationship with your daughter and son-in-law. Their son is not doing what you want. He’s not doing what they want, either. But they’re giving him space and support to figure himself out. I don’t know them and I don’t know your grandson and I don’t know if what they’re doing is the right thing, but what I do know is that you won’t change their minds or help in any way by forcing control the way you’re trying to do. You need to be accepting and understanding. It’s one of the hardest things for a person do,” I acknowledged, “especially for a parent.”

“It’s called being irresponsible,” Mr. Taub muttered.

“You can call it that,” I said. “I call it emunah.”

He looked at me sharply.

“There are three partners in raising a child,” I reminded him. “Mommy, Abba, and Hashem. If we try micromanaging every aspect of a child’s life, we don’t leave room for what the Ribbono shel Olam is providing and has intended for the child. Allowing a child the respect and support they need during their journey is not irresponsible, it’s trusting that Hashem knows what He’s doing. It takes courage. It takes emunah.”

They fell silent.

Mr. and Mrs. Taub weren’t control freaks. They were just missing a key point in their approach to the issue — that certain things are out of our control. It’s painful, but sometimes we need to be spectators. Cheer when we’re supposed to and cry when we’re supposed to.

“So you’re saying we should do nothing,” Mrs. Taub finally said.

“I’m saying to make room for Hashem. Let go a little. Be supportive of your daughter and her husband. You might even find that will make them more willing to listen to you and your concerns.”

It was quiet again. Then Mrs. Taub spoke. “Sorry,” she said. “I can’t do that.”

*****

It was over a year before I heard from the Taubs again. I was with a client and my phone kept buzzing; although I try not to check it when I’m with someone, especially someone I’m working with, especially if it’s the first time I’m meeting them. But the buzzing persisted; someone was really trying to reach me. The distraction was becoming too much.

I apologized to the couple sitting across from me and pulled out my phone. Mrs. Taub’s name was blinking on my screen. I turned off the phone and put it to the side.

“Something important? You can answer,” said the man sitting across from me.

I smiled. “No, it’s been over a year since I’ve spoken to that person, I’m sure it can wait another five minutes. Besides we’re at an important milestone here and I don’t want to lose the momentum.”

I looked for a moment at Mr. and Mrs. Pollack. It was hard to believe how different they were from the Taubs. Although I’d only just met them, and they’d told me as soon as they walked in that they couldn’t afford to pay, it was a pleasure to be working with them.

After they left, I returned Mrs. Taub’s call.

“I know it’s been a while,” she said. “We tried everything. From segulos to practically begging them. We had everyone we could think of call and plead our case. Nothing worked. About a month ago we realized that your approach was the only thing we didn’t try.” She started sobbing. “Baruch Hashem it’s been working. We still think they need hadrachah but we understand and appreciate what they’re going through now that we’re being more understanding in our communication. Hashem really is running this show. It was stupid to think otherwise.”

“I’m happy to hear that. I have a feeling it will work out,” I said.

“Rabbi, my husband and I are not wealthy but we have some money we have been wanting to give as a zechus for our children and grandchildren. I’m mailing you a check. I want you to use it to help people who can’t afford to pay.”

I thanked her around the lump in my throat.

As I hung up, a text from the Pollacks came through.

Thank you so much for your time today. We’re going home confident in our “third partner” and a lot more understanding of our son. We really hope to be able to pay you one day.

I glanced upward toward the third partner and started laughing. I felt like He was laughing too, an inside joke. I would never be able to tell this one to the Taubs or the Pollacks, so I just said it aloud to my empty office.

“It’s okay, Bubby just paid in full.”

(Originally featured in Mishpacha, Issue 838)

The post The Third Partner first appeared on Mishpacha Magazine.

Question:
When do you send a kid for therapy?

Therapy sounds very time-consuming, expensive, and extracts an enormous emotional toll when it’s not effective, or the therapist is not a match, or for whatever reason it doesn’t improve the situation — which, according to what I’ve read in this magazine, is often the case. And let’s say, best case scenario, he learns skills in therapy, I feel very doubtful that he’d really transfer them to the real world.

Instead of sending a child to therapy, maybe we, as the parents, should be in therapy? The therapist can teach us how to help our kid?

I like this idea because we already understand him well and have a strong relationship with him, two things that the therapist is going to have to spend a lot of time working on.

But are parents always the best choice? Will we be able to learn enough, quickly enough, to be effective? At what point do we say he needs an expert working with him directly? After all, a therapist is not a quick solution and may not be effective either.

Answer:

There are lots of variables that would impact this question, and without that information, it’s hard to give a definitive answer. From the information given, I would venture to guess that someone here is not doing well, and that someone else is suggesting therapy for said individual. Finally, and most important to note that the individual in this case is a child.

If I were sitting in a room with this questioner, I would hold up a hand and tell them to take a deep breath and look at one question at a time. Otherwise, it’s easy to get overwhelmed and overmagnify the problem, which would lead to feelings of despair and hopelessness. Needless to say, that wouldn’t be helpful.

So let’s break this down.

Question #1: When do we send a kid to therapy?

Answer: When a kid needs therapy, we send them.

I’m not trying to be facetious or funny. If a child, chalilah, suffers a traumatic experience, the loss of an immediate family member, or experiences some form of abuse or neglect (and other such situations) then we send them to therapy. Not much of a question there.

This doesn’t seem to be the case here. So the real question is, “how do I know if my child needs therapy?” Asking the right question is as important, if not more important, than getting the right answer.

So how do we know if a child needs therapy? In most cases, we explore the option of therapy when the idea is suggested by the professionals in a child’s life. The more professional and experienced the person suggesting therapy is, the more seriously you should take their suggestion. If your child’s rebbi, morah, teacher, or principal, who is well-respected and even-mannered themselves, feels you should consider therapy, then we listen. Are they always right? No. But that’s where we start. Getting an evaluation by a therapist is not a commitment, it’s just a lens we use to see things clearer.

A note here about the partnership between parents and educators: Educators exist to assist parents with the responsibility the Ribbono shel Olam bestowed upon them — assist being the key word. Parents reading this might be thinking about the educator who didn’t mind their business, and educators are probably thinking about the parents who refuse to listen to their advice and lie about the child’s behaviors at home. I beg both groups to come to terms with the other side. Educators are there to help parents. They are a resource. As good leaders, parents need to use their resources and not feel threatened or sidelined.

Question #2: Do the skills that a kid will learn in therapy transfer to the real world?

Again, without all the variables this is difficult to answer. But a competent therapist will not just be teaching information (about, for example, self-advocacy); rather, they will be waiting to see the child apply the new skills on their own in situations the child will bring up. Yes — for any therapist reading this, that was the oversimplification of the year. But the point remains — a competent therapist will be gauging the child’s progress based on how well the child applies his new tools (assuming tools are what’s needed) in situations he encounters outside the session. At the beginning of therapy, clear, defined, and attainable goals will be set. You can measure progress based on those goals.

Question #3: Maybe the parents should be the ones in therapy?

YES. YES. YES. Also, for balance, let’s throw in one NO.

The reason I love this question is because it puts the responsibility and power back where it belongs. The responsibility for the child’s wellbeing lies with the parents. That’s the YES, YES, YES.

The NO was because it’s not necessarily therapy the parents need.

Nowadays specifically, I personally think it’s absurd that people parent without at the very least having taken parenting classes. Classes should be divided by the stages of development that your children fall into. There is no end to chinuch material and professionals for you to choose from. My wife and I have both attended chinuch classes and it has not only made us feel and act as competent and effective parents, it has changed us as people. A good chinuch class is not a list of do-this, don’t-do-that rules. Rather, it helps you understand the role of shalom bayis and personal development in regard to their effect on children. It helps you understand the world through the eyes and minds of your children and enables you to effectively communicate with them.

Proper training in chinuch will hopefully negate the need for the parents or the child to need therapy later.

For many people, parenting has become so stressful and induces such anxiety that it crushes us. For many, it has become the gauge we use to decide our failings as human beings. So with psychotic urgency we desperately show, plead with, and threaten our children to follow the path that looks good for them (and us) — as opposed to raising them. It doesn’t have to be this way. Raising children can be a singularly enjoyable experience if we only had the proper training in how to do it.

In summary, barring any traumatic or obvious reason, start with training yourself how to respond properly to the opportunity we were given to raise our kids. Even the most difficult child or complicated problems can be affected by a parent with proper tools applied calmly and lovingly. Don’t underestimate the power of parents.

The post When the Stakes Are High first appeared on Mishpacha Magazine.

Tal Sharfman was high when came into my office.

He slumped into a chair. “That’s a big yarmulke, bro,” he said through his haze.

“Yeah, it makes styling my hair a lot easier,” I said.

He snickered. “But you’re bald, bro.”

“That’s very observant of you,” I replied. “Not everyone gets that joke.”

“Joke?”

Tal had been thrown out of two schools already and his parents were refusing to let him return home, out of fear that he would, in their words, “bring his tumah in the house.”

“Tal, let me ask you something,” I said. “What are we doing here?”

He shrugged, waited a beat, and then said, “My parents are hoping you can fix me, I guess.” His tone was matter of fact.

“Do you think you’re broken, that you need to be fixed?” I asked.

“Doesn’t matter what I think,” he retorted. He looked away.

“It’s really annoying when someone kills your buzz, huh?”

He shifted uncomfortably. “I’m not high.”

“Yes, you are. It’s okay, I’m not going to tell you to stop using,” I said.

His eyes flickered toward mine, met for an instant, looked away again.

“Why not?” His tone was aggressive. “Isn’t it bad?”

The Devil’s Test. Every disgruntled teen I’ve ever worked with inevitably runs the Devil’s Test. It’s when they say what they think you’re thinking and wait to hear your response. Depending on your answer, they’ll decide whether or not they can trust you.

A teenager’s issues come from a variety of sources and for a variety of reasons, but in general, the underlying angst is rooted in a sense of not being accepted, respected, and understood. Teens see adults as a forgone conclusion: adults will not accept, respect, or understand me. Avoid them at all costs.

You don’t answer a Devil’s Test by saying what they want to hear. You answer by showing that you’re not what they think you are. Intrigue them enough that they’ll want to know you, and show them that you respect them so much that you want to know them.

“I don’t believe that any substance is bad,” I said.

His face registered shock.

“Marijuana is not bad, Tal,” I reiterated.

“Can I quote you on that?”

“No substance is bad, it’s the reasons we use them and what it does to our lives that is bad. Too many people focus on not using drugs or drinking alcohol instead of focusing on why they feel the need to do those things in the first place — why they’re willing to risk addiction, or death, or worse,” I explained.

“What’s worse than dying?”

“Not living.”

“That’s a good line.” He grinned. “I’m gonna start living when I turn 18 and can run away and leave all this behind.”

“Thanks, but it’s not my line. And if by ‘all this’ you mean your anger and need to numb yourself, it’s going to come with you wherever you go.”

“You sound like you’ve had this conversation before,” he said.

Another test. Are you genuine or am I just another chesed case?

“Yeah, I’ve had this conversation way too many times. It gets boring.”

He rolled his eyes. “So why are we here,” he said, mimicking me.

“Because of what comes next.”

He looked at me.

“You, Tal. Your ‘why,’ your reasons. People might have similar beliefs and ideas but at the core, you are unique. I’ve never met two people who are the same. So after all the repetitive conversation, I get to do what I love most. I get to know someone for real. So who are you, Tal?”

“We can’t!” Tal’s mother insisted. “We’re not ready to have him in the house. He’s too disruptive. He walks into the room and everyone cringes. What has he done that’s so great that he should come back? Tell me that!”

“He very rarely gets high anymore and when he does it’s socially,” I responded. “He still has the social anxiety that hopefully will improve with the medication Dr. Freund prescribed. He’s doing the homeschool work that we set as a goal, as well as working at the store. His boss says he does a great job. He might be doing a little too good, in my opinion. I think he’s ready.”

“The other kids…” she started.

“Are missing their older brother. We discussed how to bring up and explain his behaviors to them,” I interrupted.

“I can’t have him come home and talk all day about his dreams for when he turns 18 and he’s going to open a marijuana store and join some rock band—”

“—rap group,” her husband interrupted. It was the first time he was speaking this session.

“Rap group, thank you,” she said sarcastically. Her eyes welled up. “I can’t bear listening to it, it makes me want to throw up, I can’t even look at him!”

Mr. Sharfman was uncharacteristically quiet. I was accustomed to being yelled at by both of them. Usually simultaneously. His wife looked at him as if to say, can I get some help here? But dad seemed a million miles away.

“Avraham!” she said desperately.

He snapped back to attention and turned to me, frowning. “I have a question,” he said. “We sent Tal to two therapists before you and he refused to talk. We paid him to go so he went. Why is he listening to you if he wouldn’t listen to them? And,” his tone was accusatory, “if he is, why aren’t you telling him the truth?”

The “truth” that Mr. Sharfman was referring to was the fact that he and his wife had decided that their son would not be allowed back home until he would play the part of a   yeshivah boy.

“All your questions have the same answer,” I said, trying to deescalate. “I am not a therapist. I was brought in only after you threw him out, which I would have vehemently advised against. And most importantly, he doesn’t listen to me. I listen to him. There’s a big difference. He’s not being manipulated into doing the work he’s doing. It’s what he has realized he wants do. He realized it with me because I showed him respect for who he is and what he thinks.”

“Respect?!” There was an edge of hysteria in her voice. “You respect him when he says he’s going to marry a goy and join a rap group and open a marijuana store? You respect that?!”

“Respect doesn’t mean I like it or agree with it. It means I like him and am interested in what he wants,” I said. “Besides, he stopped saying those things to me. And it’s called a dispensary, not a marijuana store.”

“Oh, I’m sorry!” Mrs. Sharfman said sarcastically. “I guess I don’t know the lingo!”

There was a long pause.

Finally, Mr. Sharfman spoke. “So we have to act like we respect him and listen to him and then he’ll respect and listen to us?” he asked.

In two months, this was the first nonconfrontational thing either of them had said to me.

“No,” I said. “You have to actually do it. Trust and respect was lost when you threw him out. Your actions said that your love is conditional — either toe the line or we don’t want you. It was a big hit for him.”

For the first time Mr. Sharfman started tearing up. “It’s not like that. It’s just…” His voice cracked.

“I know it’s not,” I said, speaking more softly now. “But Tal doesn’t. He needs you to show it. And I’m not exactly sure how to do that without him living at home. Immediately.” I let the last word hang in the air.

“This is crazy!” Mrs. Sharfman snapped. “If you respect him so much, he can live with you!”

She turned to her husband and opened her mouth, but stopped short when she saw him scrolling through his phone.

“What are you doing?” she demanded.

He didn’t look up. “Buying some music,” he said.

“What?” she sputtered. “Now?!”

He looked up at me. “Tal can come home tomorrow,” he said.

“What!” his wife said again.

“I know you said ‘right away,’ ” he continued apologetically, “but I think we need a day to be ready.”

Mrs. Sharfman looked like she was going to pass out. “How exactly are you getting ‘ready’?” she fumed. “By updating your Spotify playlist?”

“I’m buying Tal’s kind of music,” he told her. “And I’m going to listen to it until I understand who he is.”

“You’ll never understand it!”

He shrugged. “Well,” he said, “he’ll be home. I’ll ask him about it.”

She was shaking her head. “This is going to be a disaster.”

But I was remembering the look on Tal’s face when I asked him who he really is. His father would learn the answer before me.

Identifying details have been changed to protect the privacy of patients, their families, and all other parties.

Rabbi Yossi Bensoussan serves as mashgiach ruchani at Yeshiva High School of Cleveland. He is a Certified Alcohol and Substance Abuse Counselor (CASAC) who currently maintains a private practice, and does motivational speaking and community education on addiction all over the US and Israel.

(Originally featured in Mishpacha, Issue 834)

The post The Devil’s Test first appeared on Mishpacha Magazine.