“I Have Chosen the Path of Emunah”: Seeing the Whole Child

Rabbi Daniel Siegel

In considering how we might serve our students by attending to the whole child, I would like to share some reflections on emunah, faith, within our Jewish tradition. Emunah, as will be discussed here, draws our attention to the “whole child” in terms of seeing not only the student before us but that individual who has yet to be fully realized. In seeing within the child the possibility of that which is yet to be, we teachers, as well, may be awakened to and realize a greater sense of self and purpose.

When first engaged as an educator at King David High School in Vancouver, I was asked to teach a class entitled Emunah, Faith, to our students and “students at risk” from a school in Saskatchewan. I later was given the gift of a book, inscribed: “Maintain your faith in our youth.”

For our tradition, hope is born of faith. This, I believe, is a central message of the following story, attributed to the Baal Shem Tov, with which I began our emunah class.

A student devised a clever plan to illustrate that, indeed, he was wiser than his teacher. He caught a small bird and brought it before his teacher. Holding the bird between his two hands, so that it could not be seen, the student addressed his teacher: “I have a question that you cannot answer. Between my hands I am holding a tiny bird. Tell me, is the bird living or dead?” The student smiled; as he was sure the teacher could not correctly answer this question. For he had a clever plan indeed. If the teacher answered “the bird is dead,” the student would open his hands and the bird would fly away. And, if the teacher answered “the bird is alive,” the student would quickly crush the tiny bird with his palms, then open his hands and reveal a dead bird.

The teacher was silent, then he looked directly into the eyes of the student and said…

I did not provide the students with the conclusion of this story. We discussed possible responses by the teacher; what they thought the teacher should respond and did respond, and how they would respond. We then read the teacher’s response, which concluded the story:

“My child, in your hands you hold a precious life, choose well what you will do with it.”

The teacher’s words elicited surprise, a pregnant pause and then a birth of understanding.

To outwit the clever student, the teacher should have said the bird is dead, even if he knew it must be alive, thus leading the student to release the live bird. Upon further reflection and shared discussion, however, the students understood that it was not the bird alone that was at risk. The student was holding his very life in his hands. The truly wise teacher, seeing the hurting child beyond the clever student, speaks of a precious life, though presently confined in uncertainty and pain, assuredly still alive rather than dead, and able to take flight if he were to see in himself what others see.

We do not know what the student elects to do. But we know the teacher’s response allows for a beginning rather than an end. Placing trust in his student preserving the life in his hands, our teacher demonstrates faith in the child before him, instilling hope and possibility for the future. I asked the students if this story was intended for students or teachers, and they answered, “Both.”

As educators, the future of our students is in our hands, even as it is in theirs. Perhaps the clever student was wise, as well, in asking his teacher to see this. What our tradition emphasizes, however, is that it is faith above all, made possible in seeing the whole child, that will make this future a promising one.

The critical nature of faith is portrayed by our Torah in the relationship of Moses, our teacher, with the people of Israel. Focusing on the word az, “then,” as noting the meaningful juxtaposition of the two biblical statements (Shemot 14:31-15:1) “And they (Israel) had faith (va-ya’aminu) in the Lord and Moses his servant. Then (az) Moses and the children of Israel sang (yashir),” some chasidic commentators explain that only after Israel demonstrated faith in him was Moses (who had difficulty speaking) able to sing. Others within this same tradition, reading yashir as a causative verb, pointedly remark that Israel, by means of their faith in him, brought out the song in Moses. Indeed, the Berditchever Rebbe adds: God too, in experiencing Israel’s faith in Him, was made to sing.

As teachers, we are asked to have faith in our students so that we may hear their voice, so they may sing their unsung song. The faith demanded of us, as exemplified by both Israel and Moses in this biblical episode, includes but goes beyond successfully encouraging our students to complete a difficult task. Faith means that, against every remonstration they may offer, we sensitively but determinedly challenge our students, to their very core, that we may help birth their song. No student, then, if we are to empower him or her to sing, may remain invisible to us.

Truly seeing each of our students, our tradition reminds us, requires vision that is envisioning. Being present for the child before us requires glimpsing a wholeness not fully visible. Significantly, the verse which ends in describing the people’s faith (va-ya’aminu) in God and Moses begins by noting Israel’s seeing (va-yar) the powerful capabilities and promise exhibited by those—both Moses and God—whom they empower to sing. Only in holistically seeing the same in our children can we engender a faith that will give rise to their individual voices.

To midwife our students’ songs we must nurture faith. When we can no longer do so, we are faced with an important truth. After prolonged patience, through many years, an exasperated Moses gives expression to his “burned out” condition:

And Moses said to the Lord: “Why have you afflicted your servant…to place this burden…upon me? Did I conceive…this people, did I give birth to them, that you would say to me “carry them in your bosom ) as a nurseomein) carries a suckling”? (Bemidbar 11:12)

As their common root letters (אמן) indicate, faith (אמונה/emunah) can only be generated and developed through continuous nurturing (אומן/omein).

When speaking of Moses’ loss of faith in the people, the Sefat Emet (late 19th century Gerrer Rebbe, Yehudah Aryeh Leib Alter) notes, “One must maintain faith in the children of Israel even when encountering their apparent dark side.” As with the student who would test us with/as a troubled bird, we, like Moses, are asked to discern that present before us is a reason and impetus to foster a more abiding faith. After these many years, the Moses who championed his people, before God, at Sinai (during the Golden Calf incident), linking his future with theirs, has lost sight of their promise.

When not long thereafter, Moses strikes the rock, God declares: “Because you did not have faith in Me, to sanctify Me in the eyes of the children of Israel, you shall not bring this congregation into the land that I have given them.” The Sefat Emet adds that it was Moses’ (and Aaron’s) lack of faith in Israel, with whom he had lost all patience, that prevented him from sanctifying God among them. As educators, we create faith in God through our faith in our students. When we become embittered, seeing but recalcitrant charges (“Listen you rebels,” in the words Moses), we lose sight of the promise of, and our ability to be positive transformative agents in, the lives of our students.

Relieving him of what has become a burden, God, tellingly, does not forsake Moses, whom he singularly describes as the “faithful one (neeman) in all My house.” Faithful to his servant, God appoints Joshua as one through whom Moses can continue his dedicated work. As a tried and true educator asked to assume the role of mentor, Moses is now challenged to find renewed conviction in preparing a teacher and leader to faithfully take his children into the Promised Land.

Beyond the weary individual before Him, God sees in Moses what he asked his leader to see in His people: a whole self, whose past and present provides, rather than precludes, understanding and hope for a promising future.

The Talmud describes us as being “believers, the children of believers” (Tractate Shabbat 97a). We can be neither, unless we are both. We cannot truly be children of believers without ourselves becoming believers. Yet becoming believers is not possible without our being children of believers. Looking upon the whole child before us, may we remember that every believer is born of one who fosters faith in him/her, having been so blessed ourselves.

This article is dedicated to the students of KDHS with whom I have been blessed to explore and experience the meaning of emunah.

Rabbi Daniel Siegel, most recently Judaic studies coordinator and teacher at King David High School in Vancouver, is currently enjoying a sabbatical of Jewish study, volunteerism and activism. He can be reached at [email protected].

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HaYidion Whole_Student Winter 2012
The Whole Student
Winter 2012