As seen in the EmBRace Magazine, Tishrei 5786
Today’s world is a challenging one to grow up in. The Rebbe often spoke about the task of the educator as being to “to immunize children so that they will be able to stand up to the tests of life and the winds that blow in the world.” But those winds are not friendly and are swirling closer to home every day, as the Rebbe continued to reference “the winds blowing in the street” of worldly influences.
The book “The Hurried Child” by David Elkind, PhD, talks about how children today are “growing up too fast, too soon,” because of the onslaught of media, exposure to scary news and inappropriate images, increased need to be independent and alone while parents are distracted and busy, and the rapid speed of modern life.
And this book was written in 1981!
Today, the hurried child is even more hurried and the wind that the Rebbe said is blowing in the street has made its way into our homes, bedrooms, and pockets. Our children are crying out – whether silently or overtly – for a truth that will hold them safe and secure in these turbulent times.
They need an anchor, and we have one for them.
The Rebbeim explained that the term “kevius itim laTorah,” establishing fixed times for Torah, connotes “kevius banefesh” – established (fixed and rooted) in the soul. This imperative is about more than just time management, it is telling us to consider our Torah study so important to who we are that we would never dream of missing a session. This term conjures for me the image of an anchor, sent deep down inside of us, so that our choices will always reflect who we are.
This is a lesson not just for establishing set times for learning, but also for our approach to Chinuch in general. Yiddishkeit needs to be anchored within us, not merely external, superficial, or rote. And this is what we need to give our children so that they have a firmly rooted identity that no winds – outward or inward – can blow away.
How do we accomplish this?
The answer is in our honey dish on the Rosh Hashana table.
Make it sticky.
We need to make Yiddishkeit something that permeates our whole being, not something that washes off easily but something that leaves you licking your fingers because it just won’t come off! This anchors Torah and Mitzvos deep within; instead of it being just a list of do’s and don’ts it becomes who we are, an identity in a confusing world.
The most cherished compliment I got in all my years of Chinuch was when a parent told me that I gave the students “the lachluchis of Chassidus.” Lachluchis literally means moisture. Why does this matter?
When I’m baking Challah with my children, if I spill flour on my clothing, I can mostly brush it off. If I spill water, though, I’m wet. If I spill oil, I’m stained. If I spill honey – good luck! I’m sticky!
Chassidishe lachluchis is what makes Yiddishkeit stick! Chassidishkeit doesn’t just mean checking off the boxes of Chassidishe hanhagos, it means diving into the world that Chassidus invites us into, a world of niggunim, stories, farbrengens, Chassidishe chayus. This life makes Yiddishkeit a part of us. We’re not just wet – we’re swimming!
By sharing this world with our children, the geshmak of of Yiddishkeit that Chassidus gives us, we help them connect deeply with Yiddishkeit so that it’s a part of them – not something that can come off in the washing machine.
The depth of Chassidus is not an extra in our generation. It’s no accident that Jews of all stripes are now gravitating to Pnimiyus HaTorah. In our Chinuch, we need to make time for the deeper dimension, instead of just prioritizing ground to be covered and skills to be taught (though both are important as well). At home, we can live our life with this depth – this geshmak – this lachluchis, through our bedtime songs, the stories we tell, the Niggunim at the Shabbos table.
Chassidus makes Yiddishkeit sticky, if we’ll just let it inside.
And make it sweet.
The Rebbe taught us to make Yiddishkeit the most beautiful, tasty and attractive thing to our children.
The Alter Rebbe’s refrain of “Ta’amu u’reu ki tov Havaye” (taste and you will see that the Aibershter is good) is a lifelong approach to Avodas Hashem, but also a fundamental approach to Chinuch. In the simplest of ways, we can make Yiddishkeit delicious and wonderful for our children.
The first step is connecting Yiddishe inyonim with things kids find to be yummy – literally, like a new Cheder boy licking the honey off of the Aleph Bais, giving out treats for knowing the answers to the Parsha questions, Cocoa Club for Chitas, danishes for Shabbos Mevorchim Tehillim, and putting out goodies at farbrengens for all ages.
Then there are the more subtle and abstract joys of life, like spending quality time on a parents lap while reviewing Aleph Bais or sitting together on the couch while learning Torah; going on an exciting trip, to the Rebbe’s library (and then pizza!), or to the Ohel for a child’s birthday; or dancing together while Niggunim are playing, and setting a beautiful table for a Chassidishe Yom Tov.
Another way to make Yiddishkeit sweet is to make it experiential. Educators will tell you how they strive to create multisensory lessons to involve every part of the student in the learning, and parents automatically do this as they go about their daily lives, weaving fun and hands-on experiences with Torah and Mitzvos. This has (at least!) two benefits:
1) The children associate Torah and Mitzvos with enjoyable activities, so that the joyful memory is inseparable from their association with Torah and Mitzvos.
2) As Bruriah advised young students in the Beis Medrash who were learning silently, “עם ערוכה ברמ”ח איברים משתמרת, ואם לאו אינה משתמרת” – if [Torah] is embedded in all of your 248 limbs it will remain, but if not it will be forgotten. The more we involve our body and senses – and metaphorically, we can extrapolate, in every part of our personality as well – the more that Torah will be one with who we are and will stick with us. All five senses, all parts of our body and being, will be anchored in Torah.
To anchor students in Torah, and to withstand the raging winds, we also need to compete in a sense with all the worldly values swirling around us. The gashmiusdike world of instant gratification is very much in our faces and has a magnetic pull, and we need to make the truth that we have to offer, the true sweetness and deep gratification of Torah and Mitzvos, even more compelling.
The Rebbe emphasized that just like there is a shturem today for all things gashmius, we need to make a shturem for Ruchnius – hence the Lag B’omer parades, prizes for learning and Mivtzoim, and all the fun and fanfare we now take for granted in our extracurricular programming. At home or in the classroom, there is no shame in promising children exciting prizes and trips for achievements in learning or Middos Tovos, or giving an allowance of spending money for Mishnayos or Tanya Ba’a Peh. We can see this not as bribery, but as celebrations of what we truly value. This, too, makes Yiddishkeit sweet.
Finally, there’s the enjoyment of the Ruchnius itself. How do we teach kids to enjoy a blatt Gemara or a Chassidishe vort? How do we help them make friends with their Siddur, or feel good about befriending the new kid in the class? How do we give them the joy that propels our adult commitment to Yiddishkeit?
By living it.
And don’t be shy. Why is Mommy getting a babysitter and going out? Because she also wants to learn the Parsha, just like you! Why are we having a cake at dinner tonight? Because Tatty finished a Mesechta! Why are we listening to that song in the car? Because it’s our favorite Niggun, we just love it! And wouldn’t you believe this amazing idea I heard in a podcast on the way to work today?! I never knew that story in Navi before, thanks for sharing it with me, I want to hear every detail!
The golden rule in writing is, “Show, don’t tell.” That sounds to me like a golden rule for Chinuch as well! By showing our children how lucky we feel to be Yidden, to be Chassidim, that is the best way to convince them of the same.
Because ultimately, we are their anchor. It is me and you – Mommies, Tatties, Morahs, Rebbes – we are the ones that children look to in the storm. How we live, and what we exude, is the basis for their entire identity.
Today, more than ever, the Neshamos in our care need us to give them a truth they can hold on to – in a way that they can hold on tight.
So make it sticky, make it sweet.
Our generation is ready and waiting.
