In one of his thousands of aphorism-filled columns for The Jewish Press, Dr. Morris Mandel wrote, “Counting time is not as important as making time count.”
In April, Dr. Mandel passed away at the age of 97, after a life of making time count. In addition to his two advice columns for The Jewish Press – “Human Emotions” and “Youth Speaks Up” – which ran for close to five decades, Dr. Mandel served as English principal of Yeshivas Toras Emes; acted as a guidance counselor in New York City’s public school system; taught law and accounting; ran a singles group, “Operation Get Together,” which produced many shidduchim; served as cultural director at the Pioneer Hotel; headed several summer camps in the 1940s and 50s; lectured to audiences in the U.S., Canada, and Israel; and wrote close to 50 books.
Born in Lublin before World War I, Dr. Mandel remained active almost until the very end; his last column appeared in The Jewish Press in November 2008.
The Jewish Press recently spoke with his son, Rabbi Allen Mandel.
The Jewish Press: What was your father’s early background?
Rabbi Mandel: He’s Polish-born – born in 1911 – and came to the United States when he was three. He was educated in the public school system, lived in Brownsville when he was a kid, and went to St. John’s University where he graduated summa cum laude in law and accounting.
He then became a schoolteacher in New Utrecht High School, Seward Park High School, and George W. Wingate High School.
He’s also a graduate of the Alfred Adler Institute of Individual Psychology.
How did your father get started at The Jewish Press?
He was writing for the Brooklyn Daily, which later became The Jewish Press. How he got involved, I don’t know. But he was a close friend of Reb Shalom Klass, alav hashalom [founder of The Jewish Press].
Your father saturated his books and articles with such inspirational aphorisms and old-school advice as, “The time to take advantage of the future is today;” “The man who falls in love with himself will have no rivals;” “A man who wants to lead the orchestra must turn his back to the crowd;” “Like the turtle, man must stick out his neck if he wishes to get anywhere;” and “An optimist is one who sees opportunity in difficulties; a pessimist sees only difficulties in opportunities.” How would you classify this method of counseling people?
He got straight to the point, mensch to mensch, no highfalutin language. As a teacher – not as a psychologist – he would teach students because he was a teacher first.
Also, I think my father used Torah values in order to help people. He was Torah- inspired.
Unlike your father, many psychologists like to write of various complexes, self-esteem issues, or personality disorders their patients may be suffering from. Your father sounds more direct and down-to-earth.
What you’re describing is only Freudians and Kantians and other transcendentalists. My father was a combination, a synthesis, of many different types of thought. His main background was Adlerian, although he claimed to me to be a synthesis of different types of thought – including his own – of how to reach people, make them care about their lives, get them interested in what they’re doing, help them keep their motivation, etc.
What was your father’s school of thought?
Well, I can tell you what I do in my work as a volunteer at Shaare Zedek hospital, working with patients who are recovering from various heart conditions like cardiac arrest, etc. The psychological process is called dealing and adjusting. My idea is that it’s not only physical, but also mental. In other words, you don’t tell people, “You know you’re depressed.” Most studies show that people who have heart problems are depressed afterwards, but so what? That’s a clinical objective and patients are not clinical objects. We’re humans with feelings.
And I suppose that’s the way my father felt too. We are human beings; we are not objects only to be diagnosed.
In some of his later books and articles, your father writes in glowing terms of his marriage of over 62 years to your mother. Can you comment?
They were in love. He worked very hard for her and their relationship was very good and loving. Before he died he said, “I can’t wait to get up and see [Shirley].”
Your father lived quite a long time.
Well, it’s quite a long list of accomplishments and good contributions made to society. And once he felt he could no longer be productive because of one reason or another, that’s it, you go to Hakadosh Baruch Hu. It’s like his shlichus was over.
To what do you attribute his longevity?
Genetics and kibud av va’em. If you honor your mother and father the Torah says “l’ma’an ya’arichun yamecha” [your days will be lengthened]. He took care of my grandmother and grandfather for a very long time until they passed away. My grandfather was about 95 when he passed away and my grandmother was in her 90’s, if I’m not mistaken.
What would you say is your father’s legacy?
Well, I’m not going to say, “Me” [chuckles]. He taught me to have a sense of humor .
It’s really hard to judge because he’s not a Brisker, so you can’t say the objective was to sitzen and lernen k’mo she’tzarich. I suppose [his legacy would lie] in v’ahavta l’rei’acha kamocha-type things. He helped and straightened out a lot of people. That was how he made his contribution to the world. He was an educator.
Any parting thoughts?
I can say this: Without him I would not have worked for the Board of Education of New York City for 15 years before I came to Israel. And without his pushing and motivating, I would not have gotten semicha from Yeshiva University, my Masters degree from Yeshiva University’s Bernard Revel Graduate School, and my degree in psychotherapy from the Alfred Adler Institute.