Long before Avraham Avinu became involved in outreach, Noach was reaching out to a world society rife with paganism and immorality. People lived without discipline as animals, with no respect for another person and no restrictions in their moral behavior. While Noach was considered a tzadik, his success in the area of outreach was a disaster. Beyond his own immediate family, his efforts went unnoticed. The world required rebuilding, with Noach and his family its progenitors.
In contrast, Avraham Avinu (together with Sarah Imeinu) was devoted to spreading the Name of Hashem. He succeeded, despite the fact that his success did not endure as his baalei teshuvah eventually returned somewhat to their previous way of life. Nonetheless, Avraham had an impact, while Noach apparently did not.
Unquestionably, much can be attributed to their individual styles, the type of subjects with which they were working, and the spiritual backdrop that was their arena. Perhaps we may add to the equation an idea that is applicable to chinuch in general and a rebbe’s relationship with his talmidim in particular.
For many years, Avraham Avinu and Sarah Imeinu remained childless. Chazal teach that “the souls that they made in Charan” is a reference to the spiritual souls they brought under the kanfei ha’Shechinah, wings of the Divine Presence. These were not simply converts or disciples, but in a profound sense, Avraham and Sarah’s spiritual children. Having no biological heirs, every person they inspired became their future and eternal legacy. This idea is underscored by Chazal’s statement that whoever teaches Torah to another’s child is considered as if he had given birth to him. A Torah mentor does not merely transmit information; he gives life. He implants faith, values, and purpose, creating a spiritual bond that is no less authentic than a biological one.
Noach had children. Naturally, they represented his continuity. Avraham, however, viewed every soul he touched as his own child. Every baal teshuvah, every student, every person whose life was transformed through his influence became his continuation. His family was not defined by biology alone, but also by the souls he nurtured.
This perspective offers a compelling lesson for every rebbe, mechanech, and kiruv professional. A rebbe must never see his students as members of a class. They are his children. Their spiritual growth is his legacy. Their achievements are his immortality. When students sense that their rebbe truly loves them as a father loves his children, they respond with trust, devotion, and a willingness to absorb, not only his words, but also, his values and his character.
Perhaps this was Avraham Avinu’s secret. He did not simply teach people; he adopted them into his heart. He viewed every neshamah as his child. It was this boundless parental love that transformed his outreach from an effort into a legacy and earned him the eternal title, Av hamon goyim.
A student is inspired not only by the content of a Rebbe’s teachings,or by the entertaining and inspiring methods he employs to convey his lessons. The most enduring inspiration is the result of a student feeling that his rebbe cares for him as a father cares for his child. This may well be the defining distinction between Noach’s influence and Avraham’s enduring legacy.
This idea has a moving parallel in the lives of Horav Simchah Wasserman, zl, and his rebbetzin. They were not blessed with children of their own; yet, no one who observed their lives could fail to recognize that they were surrounded by family. Their talmidim filled that role. They invested all of themselves (the rebbitzen was a complete partner in Rav Simchah’s avodas ha’kodesh) in every student with extraordinary warmth, concern, and devotion. Their home, just like their hearts, was wide open. They celebrated their students’ achievements, worried over their struggles, felt their pain, and rejoiced and celebrated their joyous occasions. They were not mentoring students; they were raising children.
Rav Simchah was a pioneer, a trailblazer who walked into a wilderness, a spiritual wasteland devoid of Torah. He did not seek the glory that comes with being the head of a large yeshivah in an established Torah city. He accepted the difficult work of digging the foundation and preparing the structure for others to continue his work. As soon as the yeshivah was on its way, he would leave its running to hand-picked educators. When he was satisfied that the institution was on the rise, he moved on to the next spiritual wasteland. His record is awesome, especially when we take into consideration the time period and geographical location for his Torah enterprises – and look at them now. One is certain that Rav Simchah’s Olam Habba is quite secure.
He established the first yeshivah in Washington Heights, the first full-time day school in Detroit, the first yeshivah in Los Angeles, and the first formal schooling for youngsters and adults in Southern California. In addition, Horav Shraga Feivel Mendlowitz, zl, asked him to lead the Aish Dos Program to train the future principals and educators in this country. Their charge was to establish Torah centers which would forever change the spiritual panorama of this country. When World War II broke out, he became heavily involved in Vaad Hatzalah relief and rescue work. After the war, he traveled through parts of Europe on behalf of the refugees. He accompanied a trainload of 400 orphaned children collected from monasteries and convents, bringing them to Paris. He went onward to Aix-les-Bain, where he organized yeshivah students to come to Paris to study with these children.
Rav Simchah never rested. As mentioned, his rebbetzin was his partner in every endeavor, either by participating personally in every endeavor, or by providing moral support. During his first two years in Los Angeles, the rebbetzin stayed back in Detroit, where she worked as a teacher in the nascent day school. She worked so that she could send her salary to Rav Simchah, so that he could build Torah in California. On one occasion, he entertained the idea of leaving Los Angeles in order to end their long separation. The Rebbetzin would not hear of it. She replied, “If Hashem has not given us children, it is for the sake of what you are doing. What else will we leave over? What will be our enduring legacy? Therefore, I insist that you continue until you influence people and educate them as you must. In that way, many yaldei Yisrael will be our children.”
I must add a disclaimer. In no way does the above suggest that parents/rebbeim who are blessed with children cannot develop such relationships with their students. Indeed, countless rebbeim and mechanchim have done just that – successfully. I am only suggesting that our Patriarch’s years of childlessness may have honed his appreciation of the eternal value of each individual neshamah. Every person was a potential heir to his life’s work. Every seeker, every baal teshuvah, every student, became a cherished part of his legacy.
