Mishlei 19:18 - Childish Parenting (and a Teaching Tip)

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Childish Parenting (and a Teaching Tip)

משלי יט:יח

יַסֵּר בִּנְךָ כִּי יֵשׁ תִּקְוָה, וְאֶל הֲמִיתוֹ אַל תִּשָּׂא נַפְשֶׁךָ:

Mishlei 19:18

Discipline your son, for there is hope; do not let yourself be swayed by his protest. 

This pasuk and its questions are fairly straightforward:

(1) Why does the reader of this pasuk need to be told "for there is hope"? Why would he or she think that there is no hope?  

(2) Similarly, why does this parent need to be told "do not let yourself be swayed by his protest"? Why would he or she be swayed by the child's protest? 

(3) What is the unifying idea of this pasuk? It is clear that the subject of our pasuk has something to do with the reasons why parents are reluctant to discipline their children. But are these to be understood as two "random" reasons why a parent might refrain from disciplining his or her child, or is there a more specific subject which dictates Shlomo ha'Melech's selection of specifically these two reasons? 

[Thinking time! There's a unique challenge presented by pesukim which seem obvious. It takes a certain amount of intellectual dexterity to see past the simplistic, surface-level message of the pasuk to uncover the deeper idea.]

Here's my four-sentence summary of the main idea:

There are only two reasons why parents who desire to discipline their children refrain from doing so: (1) the feeling that the child is already set in his or her ways, and there is no hope that he or she will change; (2) the negative feelings triggered by the prospect of causing pain and suffering to the child - especially when the protests and cries. Both deterrents stem from an extremely short-sighted – and therefore, childish – perspective. In truth, a young child is not set in his or her ways, and there is still hope that he or she can change, although things might seem hopeless at the present; the child’s behavior and personality can still be influenced in the long-run by the parent’s discipline or lack thereof, for better or for worse. The parent’s decision to discipline or not discipline the child should be based on the long-term benefits and consequences – not on the emotional state or reactions of the child at the present, since children are, by nature, immature, shortsighted, and resistant to any form of discipline which involves immediate pain and conflict; to cater to the child’s short-term perspective will only hinder his or her development and emotional maturation.

I am convinced of the truth of this interpretation, with the exception of one word: "only." If I omitted that word from my summary (i.e. "Two of the reasons why parents refrain from disciplining their children are etc."), I don't see how anyone could object to the idea. That being said, why did I choose to jeopardize my explanation by qualifying it with the word "only"?

I have two responses to this question. The first is that I was compelled to add the qualifier of "only" by Question #3. To my mind, if there were many reasons why a well-meaning parent would refrain from disciplining his or her child, then why would Shlomo ha'Melech focus only on these two? I find it intuitively dissatisfying to say, "He just chose these two as examples out of many candidates" or even "He thinks these are the two major reasons, but he would agree that there are others" To my mind, this type of explanation would dilute the chidush (novelty) quality of the main idea.

The second reason why I prefer the riskier "only" interpretation over the "safer," more open-ended explanation has more to do with my approach as a teacher of Mishlei than as a student of Mishlei. Consider how these two possible explanations of this pasuk would play out in a Mishlei class. If I taught my students that Shlomo ha'Melech was giving us two out of many rationalizations that parents use to justify their decision to not discipline their children, then it would be very easy for my students to nod their heads, accept this interpretation, and move on.

By qualifying my explanation with the word "only," this transforms my interpretation of the pasuk into a challenge. Now my students will be driven to debate the merits of the universal theory that I am claiming Shlomo ha'Melech held - something they couldn't do if we assumed that Shlomo ha'Melech was just giving us an idea about particulars. Now a student might object to my explanation, saying, "Wait a minute. What if a mother refrains from disciplining her son because her mother objects to this discipline! That doesn't fit into either of your two categories!" Another student might defend this by saying, "Maybe the 'do not let yourself be swayed by his protest' is actually a broader category, which includes anyone's protest - not just the child's." A third student might ask: "But what about a case in which a father is afraid to discipline his daughter because he has a meek, non-confrontational personality in general? That doesn't fit into either of your two categories either!" to which a fourth student might point out: "In that case, the obstacle is not the parent's belief that the child can't change, but rather, it is the parent's belief that his own personality can't be changed. Both stem from a stubborn view of the immutability of human nature."

As you can see, this type of discussion would lead to a deeper analysis of the subject than we would have reached through the more conservative explanation. Is it possible that my interpretation is wrong? Yes. And am I increasing my chances of being disproven by my students? Certainly. But will the students learn more if I give my more tentative explanation? OH YEAH!

I picked up this teaching tip from my Gemara rebbi. He once told us that he would prefer to give an inferior sevara (conceptual theory) in shiur (class) if that sevara would yield a greater benefit to his students in terms of methodology - even if he would have to retract that sevara later on. The same is true in my Mishlei class: sometimes I will take an approach that is more speculative and less certain if I know that it will lead to more depth, more discussion, more methodology, or more benefit of any kind. And sometimes I won't take such an approach due to the downsides of teaching a less-than-perfect idea to my students. Each situation is different.

Anyway, I thought this pasuk would be a good opportunity to share this methodology point. 

Mishlei 14:10 - True Empathy

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Mishlei 14:10 - True Empathy

משלי יד:י

לֵב יוֹדֵעַ מָרַּת נַפְשׁוֹ וּבְשִׂמְחָתוֹ לֹא יִתְעָרַב זָר:

Mishlei 14:10 – True Empathy

The heart knows its own bitterness, and no stranger will share in its joy. 

The questions are:

(1) What is the rationale of the hava amina (the false assumption which this pasuk aims to refute)? Apparently, Shlomo ha'Melech assumes that the reader of this pasuk would be inclined to believe that "the heart knows the bitterness of other hearts" (judging by the second half of the pasuk) and "strangers can share in its joy." What does this mean? Why would someone assume this? 

(2) What is the basis of the pasuk’s conclusion? Why is the hava amina wrong? Why does the heart only know its own bitterness? Why can’t a stranger share in its joy? 

(3) Why does the pasuk focus specifically on bitterness and joy? There are plenty of other emotions.  Why did Shlomo ha'Melech choose these two? 

(4) Who is the "stranger"? Does this refer to someone with whom one is not acquainted? Does it refer to an "outsider" - whatever that means? Or does it refer to anyone who is not oneself? 

(5) What practical decision-making idea do we learn from this pasuk? This is another one of those pesukim in which it is unclear what Shlomo ha'Melech is advising us to do or not do. Since Mishlei is a book about practical decision-making, we need to understand how the idea being taught by this pasuk is translated into action.

[For best results, stop here and think about the pasuk and these questions before reading on.]

Here is my four-sentence summary of the main idea:

Two people can see the same object or hear the same sound, but they cannot experience the same feeling; each individual is confined to the solitary world of his or her own emotional experiences. The most we can do is to observe the other person’s behavior and make inferences about his or her internal state based on our own previous emotional experiences; true empathy (i.e. actually feeling what another person feels) is impossible. Therefore, you should exercise caution when assessing the emotional states of others and remember that you are not actually perceiving their feelings, but are making inferences about their feelings based on your own experiences – inferences which are prone to error and subjective bias. Likewise, it is unreasonable to expect others to automatically feel the emotions you are experiencing, and it is unfair to burden them with that demand. 

The need for this idea is evident from colloquialisms, such as: "I feel your pain" and "I feel for you." It is impossible to actually feel someone else's pain. The most you can do is observe someone else in a situation, infer based on that situation and/or the person's behavior that he or she is in a state of pain, relate that pain to your own experiences when you have been in similar situations, and assume that what this person is experiencing bears a resemblance to your own experiences. It is obvious that such an analysis might be totally off base. 

One of my favorite examples of this can be seen in the genre of inspirational speeches given by people suffering from unusual medical conditions (e.g. Claire Wineland, who suffers from Cystic Fibrosis, Nick Vujicic, who has no limbs, Sam Berns, who suffers from Progeria - which causes him to "age" prematurely). When we see these people we are quick to project our own feelings onto them. We think to ourselves, either consciously or unconsciously: "If I were in that position I would be miserable; therefore, this person must feel miserable." But as these speakers demonstrate, such assumptions are false.

Another common example of this mistake can be seen in parenting - especially with parents of younger children. When a young child cries, the parent sometimes overreacts. This overreaction is based on an a faulty line of reasoning: "Since I only cry like that when I am in a state of unbearable pain; therefore, my child must also be in a state of unbearable pain, and I must address it by doing everything in my power to make that pain stop." In reality, the child's internal world is completely different than that of an emotionally mature adult. Yes, an adult would have to be in a state of terrible suffering to break down in tears, but for a child, it might take nothing more than a minor annoyance. Similarly, an adult might underreact to a child crying. In reality, the child might be experiencing a horribly traumatic experience, but the adult assumes: "What's the big deal? If something this trivial happened to me, I'd get over it in a second; therefore, my child is the one who is overreacting, and had better get over it - pronto!" Both mistakes stem from a lack of awareness that the parent is interpreting the child's behavior based on the parent's own experience.

This phenomenon also occurs in cases involving joy. When we witness someone achieve a success or attain some benefit, we are quick to conclude that this person must be elated. In reality, maybe this person is unhappy, and we're just projecting what we would feel if we were in that situation. Perhaps this is why Shlomo ha'Melech chose to focus on "bitterness" and "joy" - one negative emotion and one positive - to show that this mistake occurs across the emotional spectrum. 

Another practical ramification of this mistake occurs when we unfairly hold others responsible for knowing what we are feeling. For example, one spouse might assume that the other spouse knows exactly what he or she is feeling, and become hurt or angry when treated a certain way, saying, "How dare you say/do something like that to me! Don't you know that I'm in a bad mood?!" - as if one's internal state were as easy to perceive as the color of the wall or the temperature of water. Ironically, this accusation of "lacking empathy" itself stems from a lack of empathy - the failure to recognize that the other person's emotions, experiences, and assumptions might have caused him or her to misinterpret the behavioral signs that he or she observed. Again, the key is to recognize that the most we can do is interpret someone else's emotions - not perceive or experience them.

Mindfulness of the idea in this pasuk is the key to avoiding misguided empathy, and developing true empathy - that is, the closest thing to actual empathy that human beings are capable of.