What Are We Teaching Our Children?

Adapted from an address by Rav Yaakov Bender at the Values Over Valuables gathering in Passaic.

When I was a bochur, I heard a shmuess from my rebbe, Rav Shmuel Berenbaum, that I have never forgotten.

The precious stones worn by the Kohen Gadol are called avnei miluim, stones that fill the settings of the choshen. Rav Shmuel asked: Why call them by that name? A diamond, a ruby, a sapphire: these are precious stones and their names convey their value and importance. Why describe them simply as stones that fill a space?

His answer was beautiful. A diamond is wonderful. But fulfilling a higher need is a far greater purpose than just being a diamond in itself. In this case, the stones of the choshen had a purpose: the choshen had spaces that needed to be filled, so the stones filled them. Stones by themselves are nothing, but if they can help somebody else, and fulfill a need, that’s what matters. That’s what money can do. That’s what we should be doing with what we have: helping to fulfill the needs of others.

Rav Shmuel Berenbaum lived that way. Olam Hazeh meant little to him. I once counted the chairs in his dining room. Around his table were twelve mismatched chairs from different sets. We bochurim sat around that table learning from our rebbeim. We saw what mattered to them.

Today, we have to ask what our children see when they look at us.

One day, I was standing in yeshivah when a boy received a restaurant order. We have a wonderful chef; the boys are well-fed. But this boy had ordered something special. I asked him what it cost. The reply? Forty-one dollars.

I pointed out that there was a boy nearby who could not afford a can of soda for a dollar. How was his casual spending affecting that child and his feelings of self-worth?

We have to think about these things. A child may not say anything, but that doesn’t mean he’s not hurting.

I grew up with hand-me-downs. My parents had very little. I still remember the time another boy noticed the previous owner’s name tag sewn into my clothing, and made a comment about it. He knew exactly what he was making fun of, and I knew exactly what he meant.

We grew up with very little, and we grew up fine. But the pain of embarrassment is something a child never forgets.

A boy once came to yeshivah with a baseball glove that cost $200. I asked him, “Why didn’t you buy two gloves for $100 each and give one to a kid who doesn’t have one?”

I’m talking about a baseball glove. A child should enjoy himself. He should have something nice. But he should also learn to notice the boy next to him and what he lacks. If we want good children, we have to teach them how to be good, how to be kind.

I was 15 years old when my father had a sudden heart attack and was niftar. I had been learning in Philadelphia for only a few weeks. Afterward, I returned to New York to learn in the Mir and spent the next seven years at home with my mother.

My father was niftar on Tuesday night. The levaya was Wednesday. On Shabbos morning, in the middle of shivah, we children came downstairs to find the house had been burglarized. The house was ransacked. Even the tefillin had been taken out of their bags and thrown onto the floor.

We stood there crying. We had already been crying the whole week over our father.

Then my mother came downstairs.

My mother was a Holocaust survivor. She had lost so much of her family, and now her husband had been taken from her. She looked at us and asked why we were crying.

“Ma, look at the house!”

She told us, “You should never cry over something you can replace with money.”

The message was clear: Don’t cry over material things. But if we wanted to cry for our father, that was something else. Those words never left me. My mother gave us a chinuch in what mattered in life. Our parents worked hard to provide for our education. We saw where they put their efforts and what was important to them.

There are people who understand this beautifully.

Many years ago, in Camp Agudah, I noticed a counselor collecting dollar bills before a trip to an amusement park. I asked him what he was doing.

He explained that some boys would spend lots of money at the game booths while other boys stood nearby watching. He wanted to have money set aside to provide for those children so they could also participate. He saw their pain. He understood what it meant to be one of the boys who had no money and could only watch.

This is something we have to teach: empathy. When your child wants something, perhaps there’s an opportunity to help another child as well. And it must be done with sensitivity. Give it through the rebbe. Your child does not need to know who receives it. Chas v’shalom that helping someone should become another way to embarrass him.

There’s an image in the Torah that can help us bring this lesson into our homes. At the end of Parashas Mishpatim, the Torah describes the Livnas Hasapir, the sapphire stone. Rashi explains that it recalled the bricks with which Klal Yisrael suffered in Mitzrayim. Does HaKadosh Baruch Hu need a reminder about how the Jews suffered? The lesson for us is to feel another person’s pain.

I know people who have taken a brick, painted it blue, and kept it in their homes. Their children ask what the brick is doing there. That opens a conversation: There are people who are struggling. We want to remember them when we make our decisions. Put that brick on your Shabbos table. Let the children ask. Let them hear what it means to think about someone else.

But I must make an important point. You cannot make your children feel inferior by insisting that they be different from every other child and expect that there will be no consequences.

I recently discussed buying a bar mitzvah hat for a grandson. The whole class was wearing a certain type of expensive hat. If that really is the situation, you have to understand what it means to the child. You cannot ignore his feelings.

Could the mothers of a class get together and discuss the standard? Perhaps they could agree that their children do not all need that particular hat. That is something worth considering. But do not put the whole burden on your child. You have to be very careful.

At the same time, we should keep teaching our children that there are other people in the world, with feelings and needs that we should notice. For example, let me tell you about two boys who understood that.

A camp arranged a trip to Niagara Falls. The boys were told in advance to bring their birth certificates so they could cross into Canada. One boy did not have the necessary documentation and was not allowed across the border. Another boy got up and said, “I’m not going to let this boy sit alone.” Then he got off the bus. And then another boy, seeing this act of generosity, got off the bus too.

The rest of the boys went on the trip; the other boys stayed behind on the American side. When everyone returned that night, they heard about the boat ride, the sights, and the wonderful time their friends had while in Canada.

Years later, I was at the Shabbos sheva brachos of the boy who had first stepped off the bus. I got up and told the story. Everyone began laughing. Why? Because someone had told that same story about the chassan at every sheva brachos that week. Think about that. The other boys had a good time; they enjoyed the trip, went to sleep, and continued with their lives. Who had a story to tell for the rest of his life? The boy who stayed behind who was now a chassan.

That is the kind of joy we want our children to experience. The satisfaction of knowing that they saw another person’s pain and did something about it.

We also have to teach our children to appreciate what other people do for them. A mother works all day, takes care of her family, and prepares supper. Her child comes home, looks at the plate, and says, “Tuna fish again?”

Does he see the effort? Does he see his mother’s tiredness?

Our children have to hear these lessons from us. They have to see us practicing them. There is so much we can give our children by teaching them to appreciate what they have, to notice what others lack, and to use what HaKadosh Baruch Hu has given them with care.

A boy can have a good time on a trip. He can also become the boy who gets off the bus.

Let us raise children who understand the greatness of that choice.

You can see the full address at ValuesOverValuables.org.