The following incident actually took place.

A rabbi in one of the higher grades of a yeshiva elementary school was discussing with his class the importance of Torah learning. To emphasize his point, he asked his students what he assumed was a rhetorical question: "What’s the most important thing in the world?" The answer wasn’t long in coming, as one of the students called out, "CHULENT!" (chamin- a traditional Shabbat dish consisting mainly of beans left to cook overnight. )

Understandably, the rabbi was extremely annoyed, and he made his way over to the desk of the culprit, intending to inform him in no uncertain terms that this kind of silliness was in bad taste, and certainly was not in the student’s best interest. However, as he approached the student’s desk, the rabbi noticed the expression on his face, an expression that reflected anger and bitterness. The rabbi realized immediately that his student was not trying to be silly at all; understanding that the matter was quite serious, the rabbi decided to drop it for the moment, leaving it to be handled by others who were more equipped to deal with this child’s problems.

When the principal questioned him, the boy explained that it was his father who had taught him the importance of chulent. "Did your father actually tell you that chulent is the most important thing in the world – even more important than studying Torah?" asked the principal kindly.

"No," said the child, "but it’s obvious!

"When I say a d’var Torah at the Shabbat table, my father doesn’t pay any attention to me. He just sits there eating his chulent, saying ‘yes, yes’ – pretending that he’s listening. And he doesn’t care if anyone else at the table is listening to my d’var Torah, either."

This dialogue illustrates that a child will be influenced only in accordance with his perception of a situation, even if this perception has nothing to do with the truth. (In fact Torah learning was a very high priority for this boy’s father, who spent half of each day studying in a kollel.) Moreover, if this perception is based on something the child has actually experienced, as opposed to his merely having observed it, it will have a far stronger influence on him.

Thus if we hope to influence a child, especially in matters relating to Torah and mitzvot, it is imperative that we take his feelings into account. How will he perceive our actions? What is he experiencing when we attempt to teach him, to help him, to reprimand him, to inspire him? For it is only our child’s perception that will determine whether our attempts to influence him will succeed.

This point cannot be understated. Many well-intentioned parents put forth great effort to pressure their children in areas of religion, yet all their effort may be wasted, and may even be damaging their children’s delicate process of spiritual development, if they are not taking their children’s feelings into account. Such parents might feel that the fact that they have their child’s best interests at heart is sufficient, and that it is unnecessary for them to relate to the child’s feelings. This attitude may be compared to the attitude of a doctor who makes a diagnosis and recommends treatment without knowledge of the patient’s symptoms. Even if the doctor’s intentions are sincere, most likely his diagnosis will be inaccurate and his recommendations harmful.

One set of parents sought the advice of Rabbi Yechiel Yaakovson shlita, a well-known educator in Israel. "We would like to move our son to a different school," they said. "This other school has a longer day of learning, and they begin teaching Gemara to children at an earlier age. Why shouldn’t we push our son in his Gemara studies. True he is happy where he is, but that shouldn’t be the deciding factor. We want our son to become great, and the new school with the additional pressure will do the trick."

Rabbi Yaakovson answered the parents, "When someone is pressured to learn more than he is able to, not only will he gain nothing, he will develop the habit of daydreaming and will eventually not learn at all. When a child experiences strong pressure to advance in Torah and mitzvot, it can cause severe adverse reactions that could prevent the child from becoming a proper Torah Jew altogether, G-d forbid."

Rabbi Yaakovson then pointed out to the parents numerous side effects their child was displaying as a result of the pressure they had been placing on him: the child had begun to stutter, bite his nails, wet his bed, act out in school, and most notably, he had begun to act violently.

On Rabbi Yaakovson’s advice, the parents eased their high-pressure approach, and there was a marked improvement in their child’s condition and behavior.

These parents had not been taking their child and his feelings into account, and they were not even aware of the harm they themselves had been causing their child. Taking a child’s perceptions and emotions into account is crucial. It is impossible to influence anyone by force and applied pressure – it simply will not work, and will more likely have an effect that is opposite that which we hope to accomplish.

Rabbi Yaakovson described another instance involving a boy who had totally rejected his parents’ lifestyle and was no longer religious. When told that his son does not even pray, this boy’s father expressed his amazement. "I put so much into my son’s praying. How do you explain the fact that, in spite of all my efforts, I did not succeed?" The father then proceeded to describe how he had "taught" his son to pray. "I was always makpid that he should come with me to minyan and sit next to me. During davening I didn’t even allow myself the luxury of concentrating on my own davening, for I kept my eye constantly on my son. I made sure that he was following the place in his siddur, and if he would start dreaming I would immediately step in to make sure that he would get right back to davening."

This very question was presented to the boy himself. His bitter response was, "There’s nothing that I hate so much as davening. I’ve waited years for the day when I would be old enough to be able to stop davening. Even just walking into the shul building gives me a bad feeling. I think it’s because my father was so hard on me about davening that it became such an unbearable burden. I have no patience to sit through davening, or even to think about Hakadosh Baruch Hu and Gehennom."

This boy’s experience of davening brought him to identify yiddishkeit with Gehennom, rachmana litzlan.

What then is the correct way to influence our children? How can we successfully instill in them a love for Hashem and his Torah? How can we guide them toward greatness?

To be cont. next week, bezrat Hashem .

With sincere wishes for your hatzlachah and siyata diShemaya,