Most of us can relate to the experience of feeling vulnerable and alone when going through temporary challenges. While these feelings can be tolerated for a short period of time, they can become overwhelming when the issue persists. In these cases, the feelings of being isolated, vulnerable, and even marginalized can become a permanent state of mind. Years ago, Rabbi Yissocher Frand spoke to this issue in a speech he delivered, titled “Words that Came out of the Mouth of a ‘Turned-off Student’” at a Torah U’Mesorah Convention. As a staunch advocate of students who are turned off to Yiddishkeit because they were rejected from yeshivot for reasons that were beyond their control, this topic is close to my heart. It seems counterintuitive that staff in schools who purport to embrace and teach Torah values such as achdut and the valuation of every Jewish soul would cut off even one child from receiving a Torah education. And it is for this reason our charge of acheinu kol am Yisrael crops up so many times in our Torah.

In his speech, Rabbi Frand references the story of Yosef and his brothers as a paradigm for the obligation of being there for our brothers and sisters. In Parshat Vayigash, after the intense conversation Yosef had with his brothers, he finally broke down and became a well of tears. At that point in time he could not avoid revealing himself with the well-known words (Bereishit 45:3): “Ani Yosef, ha’od avi chai… I am Yosef, is my father still alive?” After all, it was obvious that the entire previous dialogue between the brothers and Yosef made it clear that Yaakov was alive, and that he still grieved for the loss of Yosef. Why, then, was Yosef driven to ask this question?

Rabbi Frand responded to this dilemma by analyzing the wording in Yosef’s question. In doing so, he also revealed an answer to the crisis associated with students who are rejected by our yeshiva system, as well as those off the derech. He begins by quoting the Rambam in Hilchot Talmud Torah 5:12, charging teachers with the mandate that they must “love” their students as if they were their own. He believes that this directive was very difficult to address by previous generations. Yet, as a result of exposure to new research, theories and practices in education and psychology, we have a greater understanding of how to deal with the children who are challenged by cognitive, emotional and academic disabilities. In a previous related article I referred to the advice Dr. David Pelcovitz gave a father on how to respond to his “turned-off” son. Indeed, the father was surprised when he heard the prescription of “Love him more…” as the solution. Yet, after numerous doses of vitamin “L” his child found his way back into his life, and into Judaism, and there are so many stories that support this prescription.

While some improvement has been made, Rabbi Frand shares the sentiments I often voice, that we still have a long way to go in our charge to unconditionally provide an appropriate Jewish education for all our Jewish children. Yet, due to our rising standards of excellence in learning, a great deal of children and adolescents with mild learning disabilities and/or behavioral/emotional issues are lost to us. One major culprit in this crisis is the rejection of these students by those in charge of our yeshivot. It is hard to understand how they casually recommend that the public schools have more to offer these holy Yiddishe neshamot. In fact, it is because of this misguided and callous attitude on how to fix the problem that so many frum yeshiva students are eventually turned off to Yiddishkeit. It is difficult to reconcile that the continual updating of textbooks, technology as well as other less-compelling expenses take precedence over saving the life of our holy Jewish neshamot.

I believe that this issue is pervasive and serious and therefore every Jewish community must do a cheshbon hanefesh to determine how it can be that with all of our superior intellectual knowledge, “the people of the book” have not been able to come up with a solution for how to educate our children with minor-moderate learning and behavioral disabilities in an appropriate and inclusive environment? Moreover, the price we pay for the misplaced and callous response of sending off these youngsters to our “self-made” version of cheirem, excommunication, is irredeemable. I would guess that just about everyone has heard stories or are personally connected to a child who veered off the path for these or similar reasons. As if this is not bad enough, in recent years the very public label of OTD (off the derech) that has been assigned to these youngsters is downright offensive. This is because the implication of these three letters is that these unfortunate youngsters are suffering from an intrinsic “spiritual disease.” Surely, whoever thought of this label obviously fails to own up to the reality that it is our manner of responding to their needs that is the major culprit in spreading this so-called disease.

In support of his position, Rabbi Frand tells a story that not only speaks to the above issue, but also responds to the question raised in the Yosef story:

There was once a student whose father had deserted his family. This sort of student often causes a lot of problems for a teacher. He was totally turned off to everything. The teacher tried to become close to the child. He invited the child over to his house. Nothing helped. The child just sat there in class and did not participate. As is unfortunately the case with teachers sometimes, the teacher was prepared to write this child off. Due to her frustration, she rationalizes as follows: “I’ll put him in the back of the class; let him just sit there. Hopefully he will absorb some of what is being taught. I gave it my best shot, there is nothing more I can do.” And so that is what the teacher did. For about half the year, the child just sat and “vegetated.” Finally the class started Parshat Vayigash. They learned the dialogue between Yosef and the brothers.* When they learned the verse“I am Yosef—is my father still alive?” the rebbe asked our question to the students: What does Yosef mean by this question? This child from the back of the classroom, the one who had not participated for half the year, raised his hand and gave this incredibly poignant interpretation:“Yosef is saying, ‘I know that YOUR father is still alive, but is MY father still alive? Has my father given up on me? I have been away from home; I have been in a strange land for 22 years; is MY father still alive? Do I still have a father who cares about ME?”

In reading this story, my eyes welled up with tears for the many students and their parents who were heartbroken by the reality of their rejections. Yet, given these indictments, we must also acknowledge and extend hakarat hatov for the contributions in the field by those such as our own Rabbi Dr. Wallace Green who pioneered Sinai, and those who continue to make great strides in meeting this challenge. But until we reach the point of zero tolerance for rejection, until not even one child or parent who wants in is not turned away but welcomed with open arms, we still have a long way to go.

Let us take the time to imagine what would have become of our destiny if Hashem did not believe that Moshe was worthy of the mission Hashem created just for him because he was a k’vad peh, a stutterer.” Moreover, Hashem did not stop at encouraging Moshe to fulfill his potential for greatness—as the most qualified leader and teacher our nation ever had. He also supported him with a “shadow,” Aharon, who spoke for him until he gained the skills and confidence to go it alone. We are not God and don’t have the power to select out children who may have the potential for greatness in their own way. If we don’t welcome them with open arms, we are responsible for placing obstacles in their courageous struggle to become the best version of who they were meant to be. Unfortunately, as long as we turn away with deaf ears to the cry of Yosef, in the voices of the parents and children who want in, we will continue to bear the burden and the consequences of failing to respond to the voice of Yosef as he so long ago asked, “Is my father still alive?”

By Renee Nussbaum, PhD, PsyA

Renee Nussbaum is a practicing psychoanalyst with training in Imago and EFT. She also facilitates a chavruta in cyberspace on the weekly parsha, edited by Debbie Friedman. She can be reached at: [email protected]