The world we live in is totally different from the world we grew up in.
Here are some examples:
· When we grew up, people spoke face to face, or on the telephone. Now, people type messages to each other on their phones.
· When we grew up, we DIDN’T DARE speak disrespectfully to our parents. The first time or maybe first two times we did, we got smacked. Today, kids talk back with little respect.
· When we grew up, kids were DISCIPLINED. Dads, especially, were tough. Today, we are gentle and soft with our kids.
· When we grew up, it was expected the kids did chores at home. Today, they are on their phones and expect everything done for them.
· When we grew up, we could buy a can of soda for 50 cents, and when we did, it made our day. Today, kids are always asking for more stuff, and everything is expensive.
· When we grew up, we used to play outside. Today, kids are hardly ever outside.
· When we grew up, only the kids with the really serious problems needed therapy. Today, EVERYONE gets some kind of therapy.
There are tons of other examples, as well.
A certain writer in 2015 put it this way:
Uber, the world’s largest taxi company, owns no vehicles. Facebook, the world’s most popular media owner, creates no content. Alibaba, the most valuable retailer, has no inventory. And Airbnb, the world’s largest accommodation provider, owns no real estate.
The world is nothing like the world of our childhood.
This is a big deal for us, observant Jews. Because we make a big deal about tradition. We insist that things don’t change. We strictly adhere to what our tradition teaches us. We don’t like change.
So what is the proper perspective on the drastic, rapid changes that are taking place in the world? How do we reconcile our strict commitment to tradition with the fact that the world is so different than it used to be?
Here are a few thoughts on how to approach this subject.
Our Circle of Influence
The first point is pretty basic: Let’s stop complaining about it!
One of the most popular self-help books in recent years, one which I have often cited from, is Stephen Covey’s The 7 Habits of Highly Effective People. One of the principles the author develops in this book is the critical distinction between one’s circle of concern and his circle of influence.
Our circle of concern includes all the things we’re worried about. We’re worried about family, about paying our bills, about an ill family member, about a relative who is older and still not married, about the leaky roof, about our boss, and about our neighbor. We’re also concerned about politics, about the situation in Israel, about the elections, and about current events generally. We’re also concerned about our favorite sports team. We’re also concerned about the politics in our community, the issues and controversies that people are talking about.
Our circle of influence is much smaller. It consists of only those things which we can actually do something about.
We should all be very concerned about what is happening in Israel. But there really isn’t too much we can do about it. The Prime Minister is not consulting with us, and neither is the leader of the opposition party...
What we can do is make a donation to a cause that we believe in. When there is war in Israel, Heaven forbid, we can say Tehillim. We can then encourage others in our chat groups to say Tehillim. We can try to raise money for a fund to help soldiers, or to help victims of terror. All this is under our influence.
Successful people focus more on their circle of influence, and less on their circle of concern. We might feel we’re doing something important by reading tons of news and opinion articles about what’s going on in the world and in our community. Or by talking and complaining it. But this is not going to help us.
We need to focus on what we can do under the circumstances, rather than just complain about the circumstances.
Let’s face it: the toothpaste is not going back into the tube. The smartphone isn’t going anywhere. Kids are not suddenly going to be more respectful. They’re not going to stop looking at screens. We have to stop pretending that complaining is going to help. It’s not.
The first step is to accept the situation and do the best we can in the realities of the situation.
Growing at Every Station
Secondly, we have to realize that it’s not all that bad.
Parashat Maseh lists the 42 stations where Beneh Yisrael stopped along their journey from Egypt through the desert on the way to Eretz Yisrael. The Torah traces Beneh Yisrael’s trek, naming each place where they stopped along the way.
What is the purpose of this section? Why do we need to know these places?
The Malbim explains that when Beneh Yisrael left Egypt, they were on a very low spiritual level. They were on what is known as the “49th level of impurity” – just one step before the 50th level, which is the lowest level, from which one cannot recover. They needed to grow, to build themselves.
The Torah lists the places they encamped because each new destination was a new opportunity for growth. Each stop was another step, another stage.
This is true not only in the desert, but also throughout history.
We go from one station to the next – each presenting its own challenges, and each presenting its own opportunities for growth and to achieve.
Yes, our new “station” here in the early 21st century presents us with many difficult challenges, particularly when it comes to raising children. We listed some of them above, and there are more. But it also presents us with incredible opportunities.
Just one obvious example – I am able to spread hundreds of times the amount of Torah I would have been able to in an earlier generation, thanks to technology. The realities of the 21st century aren’t all bad. Some of it is amazing. Technology makes religion and education more challenging in some ways, but it also helps us in other ways. It’s not black and white.
This is my second point: instead of complaining about the bad, let’s appreciate and take advantage of the good.
Yes, our generation poses many difficult challenges that earlier generations never had to deal with, but it also presents us with many benefits that earlier generations never enjoyed.
We enjoy standards of safety, comfort and health that our ancestors could not even dream of. Centuries ago, people were constantly threatened by war, disease and starvation. In the 1300s, the Black Plague killed half of Europe’s population. And we complain about our problems?!?
Our new station here in the 21st century offers us unique, precious opportunities that people never had before. We should be grateful for these opportunities, and use them to help ourselves and our families grow. So let’s stop complaining!
Don’t be a Dinosaur!
There are five special letters in the Hebrew alphabet that appear only at the ends of words – ם, ן, ץ, ף, ך. The Gemara makes a seemingly strange comment about these letters – that they were created by the צופים, the “people who foresee,” which is usually understood as referring to the prophets.
One commentary explained that these five letters hint to the five times in Humash that Moshe was faced with a question that he could not answer:
מקושש עצים – somebody publicly violated Shabbat, and Moshe did not know how to respond;
נוקב שם – somebody cursed G-d, and Moshe did not know the appropriate punishment;
צלפחד – the daughters of Tzelofhad asked for their deceased father’s portion in the land, and Moshe did not know the answer;
פסח שני – people were impure and could not offer the pesach sacrifice, but wanted an opportunity to bring it anyway, and Moshe did not know how to respond;
כזבי – when the leader of one of the tribes committed a public sin with a woman from another nation, Moshe did not know how to react.
These were five instances when a new situation arose, and Moshe did not know what to do. He needed to await G-d’s instructions.
The Gemara teaches that these situations require צופים – foresight, forward thinking. We need to accept that the world changes, and not get stuck in the past. We need to be צופים – preparing for the future, rather than just reminiscing and longing for the “good old days.”
It is not healthy or productive to constantly talk about how things were and wishing they were more like that today. All that does is make it harder to adjust and adapt to our new realities.
I recall one Friday night when I mentioned to my children about how special I felt as a kid when I bought a can of soda. My daughter said, “Dad, you sound like you’re 90!”
We need to remember: Anything that happened two weeks before a kid was born seems to that kid like it happened 2,000 years before he or she was born. It’s ancient history.
When we say things like, “I would never have done that when I was your age,” or, “Do you know what my parents would have done if I spoke like that,” or, “I didn’t need all this when I was a kid” – all this does is make us look old, archaic, out of touch and irrelevant to our kids. We turn ourselves into dinosaurs.
We need to be צופים – people who look ahead, not back. We need to accept the new realities, rather than lament them.
Values & Actions
I imagine many readers might at this point be very surprised, and perhaps confused, reading something like this written by a Rabbi.
Rabbis are always talking about tradition, about keeping everything the same, about resisting modernity, about preserving our customs. How can I now come along and start warning about being dinosaurs?!?!
The answer – and this is the crux of the point we are making – is a vitally important distinction between values, and actions.
Our values, absolutely, remain the same. But the way those values are put into action might have to change in light of changing realities. Of course, we are not referring to religious practices, which absolutely must not ever change! We are talking about our general lifestyle, which is so much different now than it was in the past.
The value of respecting parents must not change. It is part of our Torah. But if in the past this meant (among other things) that kids were given chores to do in the kitchen, now maybe it means having a kid place an order for us on Amazon. Is that any worse than sweeping the floor?
Raising children to be respectful and responsible is a timeless value. But nowadays, this is not going to happen with the same strict approach that used to be followed. Now this is achieved through softness, through love and affection, by playing games and making jokes with the kids, not through harsh disciplinary measures.
Another timeless value is feeling content with what one has rather than always wanting more. A couple of generations ago, this meant that kids had basically what they needed – food, clothing and shelter – and every so often, on very rare occasions, they would receive something special. Today, that won’t work. But we can teach contentment in other ways. Even if we give our teens what today’s teens feel they “need” and cannot do without, we can still set limits and show them that they don’t really *need* everything they think they do.
One of the journeys listed by the Torah in Parashat Maseh is ויסעו ממדבר סיני ויחנו בקברות התאוה – the people journeyed from Mount Sinai, where they received the Torah, and they encamped in a place called “the graves of desire,” the place where G-d killed members of the nation because of their lust for meat. This pasuk has been understood as a hint to the fact that if we “journey from Mount Sinai” – if we leave Sinai, the Torah – then we end up being “buried” by our תאוה, consumed by temptations.
If we don’t bring the Torah with us to the next station, we will find ourselves lost and drowning in overindulgence.
As long as we bring the Torah with us to our new station, we will be ok. This is our job in this ever so challenging generation – not to complain, but to bring “Mount Sinai” with us to this new era, to apply the timeless values and teachings of the Torah to the realities of today. We have to move on to the next station. We cannot delude ourselves into thinking that we can conduct our lives today in the 21st century like our parents conducted their lives 30 or 40 years ago. We have to move on – but we have to bring the Torah’s values with us.
This is the proper perspective on this tension between old and new. We bring the timeless values of the Torah with us, even if our lifestyle is very different.
Finding the Right Way to Teach
The story is told of a fellow named Mr. Newman who was building a new, magnificent house. Like many people at this stage, he was very excited, and he wanted to share his excitement with his parents. Every time a room was finished, or some major stage was reached, he excitedly called his father to tell him about it.
His father glibly replied, “Oh, ok,” and that was it.
It was killing Mr. Newman that his father was not sharing his excitement, and did not seem to express any interest. Finally, when the house was almost ready, and Mr. Newman was as excited as could be, he called his father and said, “Dad, what’s going on? Why aren’t you excited for me?”
His father answered by telling him a story of a Jewish businessman named Mr. Louis Glick.
After spending some time learning in Yeshivat Torah Va’daath, Louis did some peddling, selling jewelry, and slowly but surely built a successful diamond business. With time, he started becoming very wealthy.
One day, in 1947, he received a call from the Rabbi of his yeshiva, Rav Shraga Feivel Mendlowitz.
“Louis,” he said, “the yeshiva needs some help. I need to ask you for $5000. I promise it will be returned in three months.”
Louis was stunned. $5000 was a huge amount of money back in 1947.
“I don’t know, Rabbi,” Louis said. “That’s really a lot of money. I’ll have to think about it.”
The next day, the Rabbi called back and said, “Louis, I really want you to lend us the money. Please.”
Louis felt like he had no choice, so he agreed. They arranged a time to meet, and Louis handed the envelope to the Rabbi, who reiterated his promise to return the money in three months.
Sure enough, three months later, Louis called the Rabbi and reminded him about the loan.
“Sure,” the Rabbi said. “Come by anytime and I’ll return it to you.”
When Louis came to the Rabbi, the Rabbi handed him an envelope. Louis looked and saw that it was the exact same envelope, with the exact same bills. They weren’t touched.
“I don’t understand,” Louis said. “You didn’t use the money?!? What did you borrow it for?”
“Louis,” the Rabbi said with a warm smile, “we didn’t need to borrow this money. But I’ve seen what’s been happening – you are building a wonderfully successful business, and I can tell that you are going to be very wealthy. I wanted to make sure that as a wealthy man, you will be charitable. I wanted to show you that you are able to part with $5000, that you are capable of giving.”
Mr. Newman’s father told him the story, congratulated his son on his new home, and hung up the phone.
The father did not lecture the son. He didn’t go into a tirade, shouting things like, “Why are you spending so much money on all these things? We didn’t have all this when you were growing up, and you were just fine! Why are you wasting so much time and money?!?!”
He realized it was a new time, a new era, and he accepted it. But he found a brilliant way of conveying to his son the timeless values of the Torah, the values of kindness and generosity, the value of avoiding preoccupation with vanity and selfishness, in a gentle and effective way.
Years ago, education and discipline were done in a much harsher and more direct fashion. Today, in modern-day realities, that won’t work. We have to use appropriate methods for today to convey to our children our ancient values and beliefs.
We have arrived at a new station. Let’s accept it, rather than complain about it, and do the very best we can to bring the Torah with us, utilizing all the exciting opportunities this station offers us to shine the light of Torah in our homes, throughout our community, and throughout the world.