Q: My eldest son entered yeshivah last year with enthusiasm and eager desire to learn and strive. Baruch Hashem, he took to yeshivah like a fish to water, manifesting diligence, working hard, and thriving. He did excellently both academically and socially, making friends and earning the respect and appreciation of his fellow talmidim and staff alike. Most important, he was happy. His eyes shined, and his face glowed in joy and satisfaction.
But now that he’s entered his second year of yeshivah, everything came crashing down. He has neither interest nor inclination to learn. He wakes up late, comes home early, and sometimes hangs around the house for no reason at all. Often, he seems enveloped in a cloud of sadness and gloom.
I can’t begin to fathom what happened or changed so suddenly, but all I know is that I want my son back. Perhaps the Rav can shed some light on this very painful situation.
Hagaon Harav Dovid Levy responds:
First of all, I’ll begin by telling you: Don’t lose hope. Don’t give up. There is a lot to do, and im yirtzeh Hashem, your son will snap out of it.
In Rabbeinu Tam’s Sefer Hayashar (Shaar Hashishi), he explains that every person undergoes various periods and stages in avodas Hashem. There are days and weeks when one experiences great highs and spiritual leaps, which he calls ‘yemei ahavah, days of love.’ In contrast, there are also days when one slides, stumbling before challenges and groping blindly in the dark, which he terms, ‘yemei sinah, days of hatred,’ or what we might colloquially refer to as ‘depression’ or ‘brown-outs.’ Baruch Hashem, I have seen many emerge from these crisis periods and grow ever stronger.
Since I’m unaware of your son’s particular circumstances, I’ll emphasize that it’s very important to consult with chinuch professionals regarding your son’s case, background, and current situation, and with siyata diShmaya, he’ll pull out of it soon and you’ll reap great nachas from him.
On a broader scale, and in order to benefit our readers, I would like to devote this column to explain the various circumstances and motives that can contribute to such painful situations—times like this when we see bachurim attaining fantastic achievements, growing and flourishing, and then suddenly stopping short, backtracking and seeming to wither. There is nothing more painful for a parent than watching his or her child wilt.
When we observe such situations, we often wonder: Was the problem there all along? Could it have been prevented? Did we do something wrong? But what? And how? Just months ago, everything was perfect!
In the next lines, I’ll try to clarify these points in brief and end with a practical conclusion:
Every person has 2 types of capacities: The first is regular capability, and the second is occasional potential.
A real-life example of this are people who in times of mass emergency or a terror attack can work tirelessly assisting several victims at once without noticing the gruesome scenes and horror all around them, while on a regular basis, they quail at the mere scene of a child’s scraped knee.
Another example is a person who is not athletic, but when pursued by an attacker, acquires almost supernatural strength and manages to escape.
How does this happen? What is this sudden force, energy or ability that enters them and grants them capacity to surmount this challenge?
Hakadosh Baruch Hu ingrained in man a unique ability that allows him, for a brief period of time, to ignore all fears, weaknesses and inabilities that characterize him regularly and achieve enormous heights and feats. But—and it’s a very significant but—this ability is limited and actually saps the body and soul of its regular strength, which is why the brain knows to summon it to the surface only in very particular instances of distress and need.
In contrast, a person’s regular ability results from the combination of all his physical and emotional systems, which is why it is effective long term.
Sometimes, young bachurim get caught up in a feeling of need and obligation that inspires them to work extra hard and prove their hasmadah. But as we explained above, this hasmadah does not derive from their natural, healthy abilities, but from ignoring their physical and emotional needs. They continue doing so as long as they are capable, with the belief that they are obligated to do so: If I’m capable of learning 10 daf a day, then I must be obligated to do so always, even if it comes at the expense of my other needs. Simultaneously, the appreciation and respect that they garner as a result of their efforts and achievements metamorphoses into a basic need, and they’re afraid to lose it.
Therefore, they continue along this vein, investing energies that are really beyond their capacity and ignoring growing warning signs of distress. Then, when they suffer any slight decline or failure, humiliation or upset, they’re devastated, and everything falls apart.
We have to take this lesson and apply it to the good times of life, as well. Parents have to be there for their children emotionally, as much as physically. They should take them out on a trip or treat them when they need it, express love and affection independent of their successes or achievements, and show them that they love them and that they’re special just because of who they are, and not because of what they do.
Similarly, in times of emotional crisis or depression, a parent’s focus must be building the child’s self-worth that has been shattered, with the goal of guiding the child to exploit his regular potential and capacities to the utmost.
With proper encouragement and by using their natural potential, that potential will grow and expand—as long as the child learns to listen to and heed his emotional needs.
May Hashem grant you loads of nachas!
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