The tragic event of last week demands a response from every one of us, some level of introspection. While it is not necessary nor appropriate to address the particulars of this specific case, it is an opportunity to discuss the general topic of mental health in our community.
First and foremost, it should serve as a general reminder that cases of severe psychiatric illness always require the involvement of a competent mental health professional. I am reminded of an incident involving a talmid chacham hospitalized with clinical depression. A certain Rosh Yeshiva told the young man’s Rebbi, Rav Shlomo Wolbe zt”l, that he plans on visiting his talmid in the hospital to “be mechazeik” him and help him ‘snap out of it’. Clearly well-intentioned, this Rosh Yeshiva was not prepared for Rav Wolbe’s uncharacteristically harsh response. “You certainly understand,” he told him sternly, “That mere chizuk would not heal a physical ailment, such as a broken leg, and it would be cruel and improper to suggest that it should. We must be equally responsible regarding a serious mental health concern, and arrange the appropriate, professional treatment.”
We know that Shlomo Halemelch wrote Sefer Refuos, a compilation of remedies for all physical maladies. He derived this information, of course, from his all-encompassing Torah knowledge, because all wisdom is contained in the Torah. Does this mean that he knew how to perform, say, an appendectomy? Personally, I am convinced that Shlomo Hamelech would be horrified to witness such an operation. “Why,” he would ask, “must you cut someone open, with all the accompanying possible complications, just to heal an infected appendix? There are much simpler and wiser ways!”
Nevertheless, everyone understands that we do not have access to this understanding of Torah. We rush a patient with appendicitis to a qualified doctor to perform one of our ‘modern’ operations, because we must be practical and use whatever tools are at our disposal.
We must approach significant mental health issues in the very same way. We must be honest and admit the obvious truth: We do not know how to use the Torah to heal such afflictions, and so we must trust the mainstream treatments of contemporary professionals. Anyone with firsthand experience observing the suffering from a severe mental condition knows this only too well. Go ahead and try being mechazeik an anorexic. Tell him or her to ‘just go eat’; explain to them that they can do it, that the solution is so simple and within their grasp. There could be no greater exercise in futility. We simply do not know the Torah solution to this problem, and many others like it.
I would like to focus on a different matter, which I believe serves as the background of many mental health issues. However, a short disclaimer is necessary.
There is a world of difference between attribution and correlation. We are definitely not seeking to name causes for mental illness. However, one’s mental state is strongly influenced by his environment, and there are certainly behaviors that can foster and trigger unwanted mental states.
This brings to mind a memory of people in my hometown of Lucerne who persisted in ignoring the public safety warnings and continued to walk across the frozen lake towards the end of winter. Invariably, someone would fall through the ice and require significant rescue efforts.
Is thin ice dangerous? Does it hurt people? The answer depends on the circumstance. No, it is not inherently harmful. But yes, it is dangerous to someone who insists on walking over it, and this should be avoided.
Children have different levels of natural resilience, and many can endure problematic educational methods and come out fine. Yet there are attitudes and practices which serve as a factor in creating unhealthy tendencies in our children, and we should learn about them and avoid them to the greatest extent possible.
Can we all agree that our children are growing up in a community that operates with a substantial amount of pressure? We are a highly goal-oriented society, placing great value on achievement and success. This manifests itself in many ways. I suspect that someone who constantly walks around in a calm and relaxed manner is already presumed to be less serious, possessing less yiras shamayim than expected. Conversely, we agree that anxiety is harmful, yet when told that someone suffers from unhealthy levels of anxiety, we are somewhat doubtful, finding it more natural to attribute his behavior to a strong level of yiras shamayim.
I was zoche to know and observe many gedolei Yisroel, including Rav Chaim Shmulevitz, Rav Nochum Partzovitz, and Rav Aron Leib Shteinman. They were not laid back. They were tremendous masmidim, toiling incessantly. Yet they simply did not exhibit any signs of pressure. Total dedication to Yiddishkeit, with a perfectly calm demeanor.
What exactly is wrong with operating under pressure? How is this a factor in mental health? And how do we go about changing our approach?
One feels pressure due to a fear that he cannot continue to perform under certain circumstances. I must behave a certain way, accomplish specific achievements, and reach a certain level, if I am to fulfill a meaningful role in my avodas Hashem. Thus, when I fail in my somewhat arbitrary, external expectations, I fall into yi’ush and lose hope.
The antithesis of this mistaken attitude is the midah of bitachon. At its root, bitachon means that I trust that Hashem has a place for me in every situation. No matter where I find myself, no matter what I have or have not done, there is work to accomplish, there is meaningful avoda expected of me. It might not be the activity I hoped to engage in, I might not fulfill my personal dreams or aspirations. But there is never room for despair, because the Torah fills every moment in our life with purpose. All we need to do is take the next step, to move forward, from wherever we are, in a meaningful way.
In such a system, there is no room for pressure, because there is no need to be anywhere else, anywhere specific.
To be sure, we are not advocating for the easy way out. We must exert ourselves with all our strength in our avoda, accomplishing whatever we can. But we do not measure ourselves based on how close we came to some predetermined destination, on some external expectation.
Here is an incredibly important example of this principle. We all grapple with the challenges of technology and the nisyonos it presents to our youth. One of the common arguments for greater vigilance is the prospect of a bachur experiencing a nefila, of losing to his yetzer, and then throwing in the towel. He becomes overwhelmed with feelings of worthlessness, imagining that he has permanently severed his connection to Torah.
Yes, this is a real possibility. Our boys sometimes feel this way. But it has absolutely nothing to do with the nature of technology! R’ Yisroel Salanter, in his Iggeres Hamussar, discusses individuals who become steeped in a life of immorality, engaging in the worst aveiros, and yet he gives practical guidance on leading them out of their predicament. Because there is always work to be done, some avoda to accomplish.
The despair of our young men is not because of the effects of internet exposure, harmful as it might be. It is due to this mistaken approach in their upbringing, to the atmosphere in their homes that conveyed this mistaken attitude towards life. No mistake should ever break us. We might have ended up in a shameful place, far from our intended destination. But when we find ourselves there, we must realize that Hashem is there, too, waiting for us to take the next step right where we are.
No pressure, just hard work.
And there are endless possibilities on how to work and grow, not just from within your situation, but from to your situation. You can use your failure to learn about yourself, or to discover new ways to approach your nisyonos, ways to succeed better next time.
In this way, you are constantly pushing yourself to work, to improve, but without the pressure. And the work itself does not create the pressure. Striving to somewhere outside yourself creates pressure, but work itself, within reason, is enjoyable and fulfilling.
Where does this misconception come from? Why do we feel this constant drive to reach somewhere outside ourselves?
The crucial ingredient that we must instill in our children and talmidim is a feeling of self-worth. If they feel intrinsically worthless, they cannot experience fulfillment in their current place, in the avoda they need to engage in right now.
And why don’t they feel their intrinsic value? This is a direct result of the messages we send them, every day and every moment, of how we value them for their external accomplishments. The praise we lavish on them when they do the right thing, achieve the right grade, or reach our standard of success. The implicit message rings loud and clear: We are proud of what you do, we value your success. This creates a system where people work under pressure and measure their worth based on extrinsic measurements.
What are we to do instead? Don’t our children need to hear that we value them, that we are proud of them?
No. They do not need your praise. What they need is to be seen, to be recognized, to be perceived as an individual worthy of your attention. Notice what he does, comment on it, take an interest in the details of his life. This conveys the message that he is a person worthy of respect.
We need to emulate how Hashem educates us. The pasuk says tenu oz lei’lokim, give strength, power, to Hashem. Does Hashem really need our actions, our mitzvos? The Torah tells us that yes, in some sense, He does. He sees our avoda, and He desires it, and He loves us for it. We must never cease to be amazed: Hashem sees me! I am but a miniscule speck in His great creation, and He sees me, He notices me, and He wants me to serve Him.
And He wants me despite my imperfections.
Can we begin to compare ourselves to previous generations? We can barely think uninterrupted for five minutes, while the great people of just two generations ago could concentrate on one subject for many hours without letup! Will anyone claim that our Torah is unimportant, that we should not value our learning?
And the gedolim themselves – can they compare to their predecessors; did they reach the heights of previous leaders? Was there ever a single person who understood Torah in its entirety? Has any human ever plumbed the depths of a single pasuk, exhausting all the chochma within it? Chas v’shalom! Moshe Rabbeinu himself said ata hachilosa, I have just begun, I have barely scratched the surface of understanding Hashem’s greatness.
Apparently, we are not meant to determine value based on success.
Some people notice this issue, and call for a change to the system, to our Yeshivos. “We should not be grading based on accomplishments. Grades should be based on effort,” they proclaim!
This misguided approach is feeding into the very problem it seeks to solve, by showing that the child’s worth is intrinsically linked to his marks. Let grades remain as they were designed, as a way to measure accomplishments, playing their role in our educational system.
We need a far deeper change. We need to raise healthy children who are not crushed by poor grades. We cannot value their mark of 100 or 90. Rather, we must value them for their involvement in the important endeavor of learning, for who they are and what they are doing, regardless of their achievements.
Let us all take the time to contemplate how we can try to adjust our attitudes. We need to value our children for who they are, lessening the pressure on them, and allowing them to grow and accomplish wherever they might be. These efforts will help raise emotionally healthy and resilient children.
And when mental health challenges do arise, as they inevitably will, let’s be smart, and brave, and caring. Let’s recognize these issues for what they are, and use the tools Hashem gave us to help our fellow Yidden heal.