S asson was ready to leave the yeshivah. His rebbi from high school had tried to convince him to stay his parents had encouraged him to stick it out and the Rosh Yeshivah had tried to intervene personally. Still he seemed resolute that the new place just wasn’t for him. I’d had a previous relationship with the Rosh Yeshivah from my studies back in the day and had seen a number of his talmidim so I wasn’t surprised to get a phone call asking me to meet with a new student.

“Kevod Harav what can I do to be helpful?” I answered when I saw his number on my phone.

The Rosh Yeshivah told me a bit about Sasson’s story. He was a young man from a Persian family back in the USA. He’d done superbly at Ner Israel and was one of the top bochurim in his class which is why he’d been accepted into this prestigious yeshivah. As I listened I ascertained that there were no red flags for drugs abuse mental illness or any other things that I was normally called about.

“If you don’t mind me asking kevod Harav why does he need a psychiatrist?”

The Rosh Yeshivah paused for a moment and told me “He doesn’t really need a psychiatrist Reb Yaakov. He needs someone who will understand what he’s going through and I thought you might be the right guy.”

I listened as the Rosh Yeshivah struggled to find the words.

“Well you know you’re also kind of… I mean… you are also Sephardishe? Right? I seem to remember that about you from some of our talks. I know that you’re a Freedman and all but you’re Sephardishe correct? So I thought you’d be able to talk to him. It seems some of the bochurim are giving him a hard time.”

I laughed to myself as I answered. “Yes I’m Sephardishe and yes I’ll be happy to speak with him.”

On my way to meet Sasson that evening I took a few moments to consider what the Rosh Yeshivah had told me was happening. Was he the lone Persian kid in a yeshivah full of Golds Silvers and Diamonds? Were people saying hurtful things to him by accident or on purpose? Was he just being self-conscious or was he being targeted for being different?

Sasson introduced himself and as we went for a walk I observed this young bochur wearing the same white shirt black suit pants and velvet kippah as any of the other young men at the yeshivah.

“Che khabar?” I said to him “What’s up Sasson?”

“You speak Persian?” he asked surprised.

“Not so well. Most of what I know in Farsi is limited to naming about ten different kinds of stew I like to eat on Shabbat. Horesht lubya horesht sabsi horesht bamya…”

“You know about horesht feizanjun?” he asked. “That’s my favorite.”

“It’s delicious ” I agreed. “My wife makes it for Rosh Hashanah. She’s also great at making gondi every Erev Shabbat ” I told him referring to the turkey meatballs that we eat as part of our Friday night feast.

“So you’re Persian or your wife is Persian?”

“It’s kind of a long story. I’d say that we are rather honorary Persians. We hit each other with scallions during Dayeinu at the Pesach Seder and stuff like that.”

“I don’t get it ” Sasson said.

“It’s a bit complicated but let’s just leave it that I’m the whitest Sephardi guy you’ll ever meet.”

“Some kids tell me that I’m the darkest Ashkenazi guy they’ve ever met ” said Sasson. “It’s kind of annoying.”

“I hear that. Some people think they’re being funny but they’re just being obnoxious.”

He nodded.

“It must be hard being the only Persian kid in yeshivah ” I said.

“How’d you know?”

“I spoke with the Rosh Yeshivah. He told me you’re leaving because you feel like it’s not working out with some of the other bochurim.”

He nodded again and then said “At Ner Israel there were tons of Persians. No one gave you a funny look when you said your name was Sasson or that your parents were from Tehran. Here there’s one kid who’s really annoying and then it makes me wonder what I’m doing here.”

“You came to learn. It’s a good yeshivah. Most of the other bochurim are pretty decent people right?”

“Yeah. It’s just hard. I feel like everyone is always wondering ‘Why does his last name have so many Z’s in it ’ and every time I get an aliyah everyone is wondering why my dad’s name is Mashallah.”

“Mashallah is a great name. It means ‘baruch Hashem’ right?”

“I was always proud of who I was. I come from a long line of chachamim in Persia. My father’s father was the main shochet in Isfahan and my mother’s father taught all of the mohelim in Tehran. I have a cousin who married into the family of Rav Rachamim Melamed Cohen.”

“Wow!” I exclaimed. “That’s serious yichus! I have Rav Melamed’s sefer Kisei Rachamim.”

“My father used to always give it over at the Shabbat table. He was a rav in Tehran but now he runs a pizza shop. That’s just how it had to be when they came to America. People who knew us understood but I’m feeling like I don’t belong. It’s probably easier for you because you just fit in.”

Well I told him the truth that I knew exactly how it felt as I was always the lightest-skinned guy and stood out in the minyan. “Sasson I remember the first time I went to my old beit knesset and at least three guys told me that the Ashkenazi minyan was across the street. Everyone laughed at me when I told them that I was Sephardi especially when they heard that I was a ‘Freedman.’ ”

Sasson laughed a bit himself “It doesn’t really make sense does it?”

“I guess not ” I replied. “Anyway they used to call me ‘The Blondini.’ But after we’d been to enough families for Shabbat and they’d heard me sing Shabbat zemirot they knew I was for real.”

“You’re a chazzan?”

“I wish. I’m just not afraid to belt it out. Plus I always try to give over the Ben Ish Chai at the Shabbat table. It gives me some street cred.”

“You know you’re kind of funny ” chuckled Sasson.

“You have to be able to joke about yourself a bit ” I said. “The world is a tough place and you’ve got to have a good sense of humor otherwise you’ll go bananas.”

“So what do I do?” he asked. “Do I leave the yeshivah and go to a more Persian-friendly place? Or do I stick it out?”

“I can’t answer that one for you Sasson. All I can tell you is that you’ve got to be proud of who you are. If you can feel good about yourself it won’t matter what anyone else thinks or says. If you don’t feel good about yourself even someone who makes a silly comment about kitniyot on Pesach will drive you mad.”

“I hear that. Maybe I should just tell the guy who’s bothering me to leave me the heck alone?” he asked.

“I’d think about how to do that with the Rosh Yeshivah ” I said making sure I advised him to be diplomatic while simultaneously addressing what was obviously very inappropriate behavior from at least one of his fellow talmidim. “You know the Rosh Yeshivah wants you to stay and is very upset to hear that people are making you feel uncomfortable. He knows what a talmid chacham you are and wants to make sure that people know you for who you are not for where your family is from.”

“I guess it’s worth a shot ” he said.

“Whatever you do remember to be proud of who you are and to know that you come from a very pure line of proud Jews.”

We spent a few more minutes schmoozing about Persian food before we parted ways.

“Be in touch ” I told him. “Hodafez.”

“Your accent is terrible. I can barely understand you but I appreciate the effort ” Sasson said as he wished me a good night.

Originally featured in Mishpacha Issue 670. Jacob L. Freedman is a psychiatrist and business consultant based in Jerusalem. He serves as the medical director of services for English-speakers at Bayit Cham a national leader providing mental health treatment and outreach within the religious community. Dr. Freedman can be reached most easily through his website www.drjacoblfreedman.com.