Years ago, my cousin was a student at Bruriah High School in Elizabeth, New Jersey. One day, the principal, Mrs. Newman, z”l, stopped her in the hallway with an unexpected assignment: she asked her to lead a major student initiative.
It was surprising. My cousin was not loud. She did not seek attention. She had never thought of herself as a leader. But Mrs. Newman saw something others had missed, something my cousin herself had not yet discovered. By giving her responsibility, she gave her confidence.
That moment changed her life. Today, she leads an entire department, drawing on the very strengths that were first named and nurtured by someone who saw her potential before she did.
The Moment That Changes Everything
Years later, I experienced something similar.
At eighteen, I applied to be a counselor at Camp Simcha, a camp for children with cancer. Dr. Gil Elmaleh, the head counselor, knew that I had a background in photography. He sat me down and asked, “What would you do if I told you that this summer, you’re going to run our dark room?”
I hesitated. “I know how to use one,” I said. “But I’ve never led one.”
He smiled and repeated himself, slower this time, as a statement, not a question. “So, what would you do if I told you you’re leading our dark room this summer?”
And that was that.
For the first time, I was given real responsibility. I had to raise funds, train a team, and create programming for children facing unimaginable pain. That summer shaped me. It began with someone seeing more in me than I saw in myself.
Years later, I felt that same doubt walking into a business school interview. It was an elite program with a seven percent acceptance rate. Just before the interview, they handed me a pen with the school’s name on it. I held onto it like a souvenir. Afterward, I called my father, a”h, and said, “I think they saw through my bluff. This pen might be the closest I ever get.”
He replied, “You may be exactly what they’re looking for. You never know.”
I got in.
That pen still hangs on my wall. Not as a trophy, but as a reminder that once, someone saw something in me that I had not yet learned to believe about myself.
The Eyes to See
Most of us move through life unsure of our own capacity. That is why so many people are shocked to discover they are far more capable than their inner voice, which, by the way, has terrible credentials. We stay within familiar roles. We measure ourselves conservatively. We assume we are smaller than we are.
Then, if we are lucky, someone sees us more clearly. A teacher. A mentor. A parent. A leader. They give us responsibility that exceeds our self-image. They hold up a mirror that reflects not who we are, but who we could become.
That is exactly what happens to Ephraim.
Yaakov’s Crossed Hands
When Yaakov blesses his grandsons, Yosef positions Menashe, the older son, at Yaakov’s right hand, the traditional symbol of strength. But Yaakov crosses his arms, placing his right hand on Ephraim, the younger brother.
Yosef assumes this is a mistake. Yaakov knows it is insight (this is how most family disagreements start).
Yosef objects. Yaakov responds gently, “I know, my son, I know… But his younger brother shall be greater than he” (Bereshit 48:19).
Yaakov does not only see who Ephraim is. He sees who Ephraim can become.
Blessings Are Mirrors, Not Magic
Chassidic thought teaches about the kli kibul, the vessel that receives blessing. A blessing does not create capacity. It confirms it. For a blessing to take root, the vessel must already be able to contain it.
Yaakov was not favoring one brother arbitrarily. He was reading the vessel. He blessed according to potential, not position.
That is the charge we are given. As parents. As educators. As leaders. As friends. To bless wisely. To see deeply. To speak to the future self within another person.
Later in Vayechi, the Torah tells us that Yaakov blessed each child according to his own unique blessing, in accordance with his particular strengths. Not one-size-fits-all.
Becoming Worthy of the Blessing
This is what real leadership looks like. But the blessing is never the end of the story. It is only the beginning.
Then comes the work. The work of becoming worthy of what someone saw in us.
Sometimes we are the ones with our arms crossed, recognizing potential in someone else. Sometimes we stand beneath those crossed hands, wondering if we can possibly live up to what has been asked of us.
In either case, growth comes not from comfort, but from challenge. From being placed into a role just slightly larger than our confidence, and discovering that we can grow into it.
Mrs. Newman saw it. Dr. Elmaleh saw it. A business school admissions committee saw it. And thousands of years ago, Yaakov saw it too.
May we learn to see others that way. And may we find the courage to believe it when they see it in us.