One of the things we learn the hard way as we get older is that people aren’t always going to listen to us. For example:
· Entering marriage, people assume that their spouse will always do what they want and be what they want.
· New parents assume that they’ll just tell their children how to act and what to do, and the children will listen.
· New teachers assume that they’ll just tell their students what they’re supposed to do, and the students will listen.
· People starting their own business, or who are hired for a managerial position, assume that the workers under their charge will do exactly what they are told to do, every time.
After all, this makes sense, doesn’t it?
Aren’t husband and wife supposed to be there for each other? And aren’t children supposed to listen to parents, students to teachers, and employees to bosses???
Anyone who’s been a spouse, parent, teacher or boss for many years is probably laughing after reading that sentence. Because no, it doesn’t work that way.
People – especially today – assume they know better. They think they know better than their spouse, their parents, their teachers and their bosses. And so they’re not interested in listening to what these people in their lives have to say.
I remember when I first had married children. There were times when I knew beyond a shadow of doubt that what they were doing was wrong. After all, I am older, more knowledgeable and more experienced, and I was sure, with absolute certainty, that they were doing something the wrong way. I told my wife that we needed to call them and tell them.
Wisely, my wife told me not to.
“Why not?!?” I asked. “We need to tell them what they’re doing is wrong!!!”
With time I came to realize that this is not how things work. People don’t want to listen.
So how do we handle this problem? We want to positively influence the people in our lives, but they don’t want to be influenced by us. What do we do?
The New Elders
To begin discovering the answer to this question, let us look at one episode told in Parashat Behaalotecha.
We read in this parasha of Moshe’s cries of exasperation to Hashem, as he felt incapable of leading the people. As the nation traveled in the desert, the people complained and made demands, and Moshe turned to Hashem and said he could no longer lead the nation. Hashem responded by telling Moshe to select 70 elders who would assist him in leading.
This episode brings to mind a similar story that happened earlier in the Torah, back in the Book of Shemot, in Parashat Yitro.
There we read that Yitro, Moshe’s father-in-law, watched as Moshe sat the entire day and the people brought to him their questions and problems. Yitro told Moshe that he could not continue handling all this responsibility by himself, and that he needed to appoint people to help. Moshe heeded Yitro’s advice, and proceeded to appoint a large number of leaders to help him – some were assigned over every one thousand people, some over one hundred, and so on. He thus had a very large network of assistants.
The question is obvious. If Moshe already had a large team of leaders working with him, why did he still need help? And why would these 70 new appointees change anything? What would they do that the others didn’t??
Leading by Serving!
The answer is that seeing the people’s complaints, Moshe realized that they needed a different kind of leadership.
The kind of leadership they needed can be understood in light of an incident that happened much later in Jewish history – an incident that ended up having catastrophic consequences, because the wrong model of leadership was followed.
After the death of King Shlomo, his son, Rehovam, became king. Early on during his reign, a group of rebels led by a man named Yerovam approached Rehovam and demanded change. They charged that King Shlomo ruled them too harshly, imposing a heavy tax burden, and they wanted relief.
Rehovam told them he would have an answer for them in three days.
During the interim three days, Rehovam consulted with two groups of advisors.
The first were wise, elderly advisors. They told Rehovam something very interesting. They said that if he wanted the people to be loyal to him, he needed to “serve” them, and to respond kindly to their request. But the king then consulted with young, inexperienced advisors, who urged him to speak harshly, to tell them that he was going to impose an even heavier burden on the people than his father did.
Rehovam, foolishly – and tragically – chose the second suggestion. He told the people he was going to deal with them even more harshly than Shlomo did.
The people rebelled, forming a separate kingdom, consisting of ten of the twelve tribes. The Jewish kingdom was divided from then on, and was never united again.
What exactly did the elder advisors mean? How does a king “serve” the people? Aren’t they his subjects? Aren’t they supposed to serve him?
When I first began working in the community, I took a trip in Israel and had a chance to meet with one of the leading Sephardic sages, Rav Yehuda Ades. I expressed to him my concerns and explained some of the problems I faced working as a Rabbi in the community. I found it very challenging working with different people with different ideas and opinions, and different expectations and demands. I wanted to hear this great Rabbi’s advice.
He told me what the older advisors told Rehovam – that I should be the people’s servant.
“Make them feel that you’re listening to them, that you’re paying attention to them, that you care about them, that you understand them, and this way you’ll earn their trust.”
This turned out to be life-altering advice.
And this is not only true about being a Rabbi. It is true about every “leadership position” we ever assume – be it at home, at work, or anywhere else.
If we want people to listen to us, we need to show that we “serve them” – no, not that we’re their slaves, but that their needs are important to us, that we care, that we’re attentive, that we’re sensitive.
It might sound strange, but it’s true: the best way to lead is by serving. If we look out for the people we want to influence, and make it clear to them that we understand them and care about them, we will have a much, much better chance of influencing them.
Even G-d Collaborates!!!
When Hashem decided to create the first human being, He turned to the angels and said, נעשה אדם – “let us make man.” Rashi explains that G-d “consulted” with the angels. Of course, Hashem does not need to consult with anybody about anything. But He wanted to teach us by example. He wanted to show us that the best way to wield influence, to manage a team, is by collaborating.
Hashem could have simply told the angels, “I am making man,” and then proceeded to instruct the angels what to do. But He wanted to show us that an effective leader collaborates, and does not just give out orders. An effective leader invites the people to become part of the process, to voice their opinions, to give ideas, to express their concerns, and so on. By showing respect, a leader earns respect.
Now let us go back to the desert.
The Rabbis teach that the 70 elders whom Moshe appointed now were very special men. When the people were slaves in Egypt, these 70 leaders were the foremen appointed by the Egyptians to make sure the work got done. But instead of pressuring the overworked, tormented slaves, these foremen decided to take the beatings for the slaves. When the work was not completed, they were whipped instead of the people working under them.
This is effective leadership. These were leaders who led by showing that they really cared and were really concerned about the people.
And these were the leaders that were needed in the desert. Earlier, Yitro suggested that Moshe appoint people who issued rulings, who made decisions. But now the people needed something more. They needed leaders who showed compassion, who showed sensitivity, who showed that they really cared.
Be Your Spouse’s HORSE!!!!
After my daughter got married, I attended sheva berachot at the home of her husband’s uncle. During the celebration, a Rabbi from Israel knocked on the door to collect money. The kind host of the party graciously invited him to participate in the meal.
This Rabbi offered to share some words of Torah. He cited a pasuk from Shir Hashirim which compares a spouse to…a horse!!
לסוסתי ברכבי פרעה דימיתיך רעייתי – “I have compared you, my beloved, to this horse in Pharaoh’s chariot.”
Not just to any horse – but to one of Pharaoh’s horses!!!!
I told myself, “My goodness… Here is some stranger at my daughter’s sheva berachot comparing her to Pharaoh’s horse!”
But he wasn’t finished.
He explained that in the Az Yashir song sung by Beneh Yisrael after the splitting of the sea, they exclaim, סוס ורוכבו רמה בים – the Egyptian horses and riders plummeted to the depths of the sea together.
In this sense, indeed – every spouse must see himself and herself as a horse!!
Every husband must be prepared to go up or go down with his wife, and every wife must be prepared to go up or go down with her husband. Like the horses and riders of Egypt, a husband and wife must be together. They must share each other’s joy and excitement, and they must share each other’s disappointments, worries and pain.
If spouses want to influence each other, and try to get each other to fulfill their wishes, they need to show that they are each other’s “horses,” that they are with them in whatever they’re experiencing, that they are attuned to their needs and their feelings. They need to listen and pay attention. They need to show understanding and sensitivity to what the other is going through. This is how spouses influence one another, and how they create a beautiful marriage together.
The Key to Effective Parenting
This is true also of teaching and parenting.
The Gemara in one place emphasizes how much authority is invested in the Sages by noting that the Torah commands giving sinners 40 lashes, but the Sages came along and clarified that the Torah actually means 39. This shows how much authority the Sages have – that they have the power to interpret pesukim of the Torah to mean something different from what they appear to say.
Some commentators raised the question of why the Gemara chose this particular example. There are numerous instances where the Sages read a pasuk differently from its simple meaning. Why is this example singled out?
The explanation given is that the true greatness of a Rabbi or a teacher is to look at somebody who did something wrong and show sensitivity, reducing the “40 lashes” to “39 lashes.” What makes the Rabbis great is that they were able to tell sinners, “We feel your pain, we know what you are going through, we care about you, we want to help you, we are on your side.”
This is the secret to being a great Rabbi, a great teacher, and a great parent.
No matter what is going on at home, the child needs to know that the parent cares about him. Even if the parent needs to say “no,” the child needs to know that the parent deeply and genuinely cares for his wellbeing.
Every day in school, I need to remind myself that I have to show my students that I love them and care about them. This does not mean that I always give them what they want, or let them off easy if they did something wrong. But it does mean that they know I care even when I don’t do what they want.
We have to be our children’s and students’ “servants” – not in the sense of granting their every wish, but in the sense of making it absolutely clear that we truly and sincerely care about them. If we do this, then they are far more likely to listen and obey.
A boy from a very religious family in the city of Bnei-Brak gradually began abandoning Torah observance. Eventually, he became completely secular, and he moved in with his non-observant cousin in Tel-Aviv.
At some point, this boy – much to even his cousin’s astonishment – began dating a non-Jewish girl, and they decided they wanted to get married. The cousin insisted that the boy contact his family and inform them of this new, drastic development. Reluctantly, the boy agreed. He called his parents, and told them about his non-Jewish girlfriend whom he intended to marry.
The boy’s parents asked him if he could join them for just one Shabbat before the wedding.
“Ok,” he replied, “but on one condition – that you do not say one word to me about what I should be or should not be doing, and I can do what I please.”
The parents agreed, and the boy spent Shabbat with them at home. Over the course of Shabbat, he freely smoked cigarettes and used his phone, both inside, and outside on the porch, in the middle of Bnei-Brak.
On Shabbat afternoon, his father told him that he was going to attend a shiur by Rav Aharon Leib Steinman, who was well into his 90s, and considered by many the leading Torah figure of the generation.
“Maybe you’d like to join me?” the father asked.
Much to his surprise, the boy said yes.
After the shiur, the father walked with his son up to Rav Steinman to receive a berachah. He explained to the great sage that his son had grown up observant, and is now going to marry a non-Jewish woman.
Rav Steinman looked at the boy and asked, “For how long have you been nonobservant?”
“Two years,” the young man replied.
“During those two years, have you ever had thoughts of repentance?”
“Yes,” the boy said, “on four occasions.”
“How long did those thoughts last?”
“Around ten minutes.”
“That means you’ve spent 40 minutes thinking about teshuvah. I’m jealous of you.”
The boy was stunned.
Rav Steinman explained, “The Rabbis said that the place where a ba’al teshuvah – somebody who repents – stands is so great, that even the great tzadikim cannot stand there. I’ve never been in a situation like yours, where I could spend 40 minutes doing this kind of teshuvah. So I’m jealous of you.”
The boy was profoundly moved by the Rabbi’s words. He proceeded to break off his engagement, and returned to religious observance.
Sometime later, his father said to him, “Son, I understand that Rav Steinman’s words had a profound impact on you. But tell me, why did you want to attend his shiur? What brought you to join me?”
The son told his father that he agreed to go to the shiur because of something that happened in the 4th grade.
His school brought Rav Steinman to test the 4th graders. Whenever a student answered a question correctly, he received a candy from the great sage.
“When my turn came,” the boy recalled, “Rav Steinman asked the question, and I gave the wrong answer. He then asked an easier question, and again I got it wrong. He asked an even easier question, but again, I didn’t get it right, so he went on to the next kid.
“After he finished, and all the boys left the room, Rav Steinman – the towering sage – came over to me and said, ‘When it comes to Torah, it’s not the result that matters, but the effort. Everybody else made an effort just one time, but you made an effort three times. So you deserve three candies.’ He pulled out three candies and gave them to me.
“I never forgot this. And so when you asked if I wanted to attend Rav Steinman’s shiur, I said yes.”
This is real leadership.
This is how we influence people – not through anger, not through harsh criticism, but by showing sensitivity and understanding, by showing people that we’re on their side, that we love them, we understand them, and we respect them. If this man had brought the boy over to me and told me he was engaged to a non-Jew, I probably would have tried to explain to him the importance of marrying a Jew, bringing all the reasons and explanations I could dig up to convince him – and he would have ignored me. He would have said, “You don’t understand me and you don’t care about me.” Rav Steinman did something so much better. He showed that he did understand, that he did care. And this is how we wield influence.
This is the secret to having influence – showing people that we truly care about them, that they are important to us, and that we understand them.
Whatever influencing roles we have in our lives – this is what we need to do. Influence begins with the ability to “serve,” to show that we really care.