In the Superman movie starring Christopher Reeve, Lois Lane, a brave but often foolhardy investigative reporter, has fallen off a skyscraper and is plummeting to her death. Clark Kent, a fellow reporter and colleague, sees the great peril she is in and makes his public debut as Superman. He soars upwards and grabs her. “Easy miss,” he reassures her. “I’ve got you.” Lois looks at him in shock and shouts hysterically, “You’ve… you’ve got me? Who’s got you?”
Lois thinks she and this stranger are “in the same boat,” so to speak – equally at risk of plunging to the ground, unaware that he has the capability of keeping them both afloat.
I think of her bewildered statement from time to time when I hear of young people who – unlike their parents who are university graduates, are professions or are in business – are long-term learners and have four or more children. Over the years, their financially secure parents helped them buy a house, pay tuitions or buy numerous plane tickets so they could visit their parents on Yom Tov. However, down the road, when their kids grow up and start families of their own, they will not be like Superman; they will be more like Clark Kent. Unable to help.
Learning parents – or those in kli Kodesh jobs, may promise support as a condition for a shidduch, but will not have the monetary resources to help in a significant way. They may be struggling themselves, let alone be in a position to take on their married kids’ financial obligations.
A story told to me years ago described a multi-millionaire grandmother and great-grandmother who expressed her concern that while she and her husband had been able to support their learning children and even their adult grandchildren, their millions could only go so far. Even millions of dollars divided by multiple great-grandchildren would barely be a down payment on a house!
If the extremely wealthy are worried about the financial well-being of their descendants, how much more so should “regular” people be worried.
A successful “black hat” lawyer in his late fifties whose services I have used over the years supports several married children who are learning and have growing families. While he is very proud of his learning sons and sons-in-law and his daughters and daughters-in-law whom he sees as neshei chayil, he has some regret that they did not follow in his footsteps and acquire a profession. He shared that one son got a teaching job at a renowned yeshiva because his son’s wife came from a family who were long-time benefactors of the school. Another son, who was post-kollel and looking for a similar position, had to move several times in his quest for stable employment.
In the meantime, this lawyer was being bombarded by donation requests from the yeshiva he had graduated from in the U.S.; the yeshiva he had attended in Israel; the yeshiva the son of his rosh yeshiva had opened; the yeshiva ketana and the kollelim his sons had attended; the Bais Yaakovs and seminaries his daughters graduated from – the outstretched hands were endless.
Every day it seems there are poignant and urgent appeals from gedolim on behalf of families who have lost a parent and are now deep in debt and poverty-stricken. We are asked to open our hearts and wallets as we are shown pictures of crying orphans. Of course, we feel awful for these hapless children, but, to be honest, there is also an element of frustration, even anger, that their parents chose a lifestyle that put these children at risk of being deprived of basic necessities such as food and shelter. Whatever happened to life insurance?
Years ago, a disgruntled father mentioned at a Shabbat table that too many roshei yeshiva promote the concept that every yeshiva boy needs to sit in kollel and every bride ought to embrace such a bachur. The girls are taught that a working boy is not as desirable as the exalted ‘learner’ and that this is the true Torahdik home every young couple needs to strive to attain.
Young people are influenced to go into learning (despite some parents or grandparents wishes they go on to university) and, as shomer mitzvot, to be fruitful and have large families. Do the rebbeim and seminary teachers who exert such influence on these kids explain the consequences of that lifestyle? That typical middle class parents cannot financially help down the road when their grandchildren get married.
Is there a precedent in the thousands of years since Jews accepted the Torah where there was such a widespread disdain of working? Many of the Rishonim and Achronim had trades and were gainfully employed.
In Devarim 33:18, Moshe blessed the tribes of Yissachar and Zevulun saying, “Be happy Zevulun in your going forth, and Yissachar in your tent.” According to Rashi (who earned a living as a wine merchant), Zevulun would deal in business and financially sustain Yissachar who would learn Torah. Bamidbar Rabbah 13:17 states that “Zevulun and Yissachar make their livelihoods together, and they receive their reward for Torah together.”
There was no disrespect or denigration of Zevulun because its men worked! I am sure that the bachrim of Zevulun weren’t pariahs in the shidduch world because they were “working boys.”
Zevulun and Yissacher had a partnership – implying their particular roles were equal in importance and value. It’s time that this concept was resurrected in our times for the sake of the physical and financial well-being of future generations.
