Part II
In the first part, Rabbi Grossman noted that there is a
relatively new kind of person, whose lifestyle is chareidi
and who self-identifies socially as a chareidi, but who is
not really a chareidi in crucial respects. Being chareidi
isn't just a matter of belonging to a club. It is an exalted
way of life involving more of an ongoing internal process --
self-discipline, working on character, advancement in Torah
and in yiras Shomayim -- than external appearance.
Distance Yourselves
This reinforces the importance of separating ourselves from
our errant brethren, which past and present gedolei
Yisroel zt'l, and ylct'a have stressed. We have
been taught that, living as we do in a secular state, in a
liberal and hedonistic atmosphere where denial of Hashem is
rampant, we must constantly remind ourselves that we are
different in every possible way.
The sharp increase in recent years in the trials involved in
ordinary day-to-day life makes it even more important that we
maintain a healthy and positive attitude to our spiritual
goals, which we must work on within ourselves and also convey
to others.
A person might be successful in steering clear of direct
influences from the secular world but still encounter them
indirectly through the various routes by which they gain
access to chareidi society, not the least frequent of which
are the new chareidim. These individuals really only have to
look within themselves to discover the reason for the social
problems that they sometimes encounter. It is sad and
painful, but unavoidable, that sincere effort to protect
oneself and one's family from harmful influences at times
involves holding those in our close proximity at arms'
length.
The Rambam writes, "It is human nature to be drawn after [the
conduct of] the people amongst whom one lives" (Hilchos
Dei'os 6:1). Discrimination in determining the company
one's family keeps is vital when attempting to inculcate the
inner mechanisms necessary for resisting negative
influences.
Two Lessons
What line should parents take when explaining just how "we
are different" from our friends and neighbors whose gazes are
drawn towards the secular world?
In a passage in Dorash Moshe, on the posuk "emor
ve'omarto" that we discussed earlier, HaRav Moshe
Feinstein zt'l gives some important advice on this
very point.
"Rashi explains [that the double expression means] "to warn
the adults about the youngsters." However, "ve'omarto
(and say, tell)" is also addressed to the adults.
So how do we know that it is intended to tell us about the
children?
"When training our sons and daughters, what we tell them they
have to do counts for nothing unless they can see that it is
something that is very precious to their father. Their father
will not succeed in training them to do mitzvos by telling
them that he had to withstand great trials in order to
observe the mitzvos of Shabbos and yom tov and that one must
stand firm. They will say that they are not as strong as he
and that they can't overcome their yetzer.
"They will only be well-trained by their father telling them
that keeping Torah and mitzvos is no trial at all because
they are 'our life and the length of our days.'
"Two things, therefore, have to be conveyed [by parents]:
one, information about what is permitted and what is
forbidden and two, that these mitzvos are very precious. This
is how children will be properly trained. There are thus two
things that have to be said to the adults, both of which are
necessary in instructing children."
Hard to Be a Jew
On many occasions, Reb Moshe would say that failure to convey
the second message was responsible for the high failure rate
in the child-raising of many newly- arrived chareidi families
in America. Even when parents withstood difficult trials and
lived with self-sacrifice in order to refrain from profaning
Shabbos, the next generation disappointed them. Many times,
the children found it hard to stand up to the trials of the
American way of life and they left the Torah path
altogether.
Reb Moshe explained that on Friday nights, a father would
tell his children how much of his income he would be losing
by keeping his store closed over Shabbos. He would add
painfully that he realized that he had to make the sacrifice
in order to keep the Torah. He trained them to make
sacrifices while driving the lesson home that, "It's hard to
be a Jew," but that "we have no choice."
There was a double edge to his message that we have to keep
the Torah even though we thereby sustain tremendous financial
loss, lose social standing and have to battle for our daily
bread. The main thing that was absorbed by the children who
heard this was their father's hardship and his pain-filled
sighs. It was hard for them to identify with his conclusion
that "when all is said and done, we must keep the mitzvos,
even though it's hard to be a Jew."
On reaching maturity they asked themselves, "What do we need
these problems for?" and decided that it would be better for
their own children to see a free and happy father rather than
a mournful and gloomy one who suffered because of his
beliefs.
Those parents made a grievous mistake that had very long-term
effects. Had they truly felt the dignity and elevation in a
life of mitzvos instead of making the effort merely to
practice them -- granted, with self-sacrifice but otherwise
routinely, with feelings of compulsion and without lifting
their spirits -- they would have transmitted an entirely
different message to their children.
Had their families seen happy, smiling faces, exuding genuine
fulfillment, they would have taken away a different message.
"How happy we are! How good is our lot! We are Jews! See how
fortunate we are. Instead of being swept up in life's
unending scramble for money, we have our Shabbos table, where
we revel in the uplifting radiance of Shabbos. We are not
sucked into the empty, unfulfilling lives led by the
country's varied gentile races."
Simchas Torah vs. Tisha B'Av
This lesson is relevant today as well. We talk too much in
terms of sacrifices for the sake of Torah. Our teachers have
taught us that it is not the sacrifice that should be
stressed. Rather, our families should absorb the music that
fills a Torah home where the melody of "Blessed is our G-d .
. . who has given us a Torah of truth and planted everlasting
life among us" is in the air all year round. Every day, the
atmosphere in our homes should be suffused with the spirit of
Simchas Torah.
Woe betide us if our families see parents who are depressed
because of their struggle to make ends meet and who only
speak in terms of "sacrifice" and "suffering for Torah". They
may well say to themselves -- like the offspring of the
martyrs of America -- that they prefer their lives not to be
sacrificed as their parents' lives were.
They should instead absorb the knowledge that true happiness
is the lot of the person who follows a Torah way of life.
They should truly and seriously feel that the greater the
extent to which a person feels Torah to be the foundation of
his existence and the center of his life, the happier his
life will be.
On the other hand, life without Torah is full of
disappointments. When Torah is the center of life, life's ups
and downs can be weathered with minimal discomfiture. When it
is not, ordinary misfortunes can assume crisis
proportions.
Occasionally, we hear and read expressions -- sometimes
emanating from "new chareidim" -- of the unlearned Jew's envy
of the talmid chochom's spiritual fulfillment and joy
in life.
Children raised in homes that pulsate with the joyous throb
of Simchas Torah all year round will not want to squander
their spiritual riches and live in a constant atmosphere of
Tisha B'Av over the loss of potential greatness of soul and
spirit. They know that true happiness is to be found within
Torah homes, whereas day-to-day life in the homes of those
who are drawn towards the emptiness of those who have strayed
is filled with constant mournful reminders of spiritual
loss.
Reb Moshe enjoins us to raise our children in the realization
that living a proper Torah life is not a matter of enduring
trials and tribulations. It is, quite simply, worthwhile.
The more centered upon Torah life is, the more worthwhile it
is -- not just for the sake of the reward in Olam Habo
but because it's more enjoyable in Olam Hazeh too!
