Sometimes human beings are just human, and have human-type problems

I

t was a few months after making aliyah.

My normal Wednesday in the beis medrash of the yeshivah where I regularly learn was thrown upside down as I arrived to find out that a student had committed suicide in the middle of the night. Upon hearing the news, I went directly to speak with the shocked rebbeim, who in turn escorted me as we spoke with the yeshivah’s talmidim. Crisis intervention — not so different from the work I had been called up for after the Boston Marathon bombing nearly five years ago.

I had never seen the bochur before, but the more I heard about the story, the clearer it became that this young man had been showing signs and symptoms of mental illness for far too long. His sleep had been disturbed and his behaviors were erratic and bizarre. And yet no one thought to consult the psychiatrist who was sitting in the beis medrash across the hall from where the young man learned every day. Could I have helped him? Was I to blame for not letting his rav know about my training? Should I have done a better job being available for consultation?

My own rav told me that I was being too hard on myself, in the same way that everyone else at the yeshivah was, and that I clearly wasn’t to blame in this situation. But we were there, and a young man was niftar. I couldn’t stop thinking about the different ways in which I might have helped, and I wanted to discuss it further.

My rav gave me some practical advice for the future. “Let them know you’re around so that, chas v’shalom, if something else like this happens, you can try to stop it the next time,” he said. “Hashem gave you this wisdom and skill, Reb Yaakov. There are lots of bochurim out there who could benefit from a frum, caring psychiatrist who speaks their language.”

And then he bentshed me to help Am Yisrael.

And that’s how I set out on my way to meet with roshei yeshivah, mashgichim, and askanim, letting them know that I was around and happy to help. Most rabbanim were happy to speak with me and to hear me out. In general, my new audience fell into two camps: those who were in denial about the problem, and those who were equally concerned and ready to take action.

Sometimes, of course, they’d have questions: “Where were you trained?” Harvard. “Do you ask sh’eilos to a rav?” Rabbi Naftoly Bier of the Boston Kollel. “Do you think meds can fix everything, or that everyone needs a pill?” No.

One mashgiach of a well-known yeshivah for off-the-derech bochurim once told me, “You could really make the argument that just about every yeshivah bochur in Israel could use a decent therapist… and I’m willing to make that argument.” He’d taken my number, and by the end of the week I had already seen a young man in my office, created a personalized treatment regimen for him along with a therapist colleague of mine, and discussed the case with the mashgiach, who was ready to send the next bochur in my direction.

There were also some responses that gave me heartache, rabbis who told me, “We throw bochurim like that out of our yeshivah,” or “We don’t have bochurim with mental illness here,” or “Mental illness is a form of the yetzer hara, and we fix that with mussar.” Not that I don’t agree with that statement, but mussar certainly isn’t the sole fix for mental illness, but rather a part of the cure.

My meeting with one rosh yeshivah was one such disturbing encounter. I had actually been meaning to introduce myself to him for a long time, as one of my rebbeim was a former talmid in his yeshivah. The rosh yeshivah was a well-known darshan and a very warm and loving man whose yeshivah was heralded for producing a specific brand of yashar yungeleit. It was truly an honor to converse with this rosh yeshivah and I told him this when we met.

“So, I understand you’re a psychiatrist?’

I proceeded to introduce myself and explain why I wanted to meet, but I didn’t really get too far into my work with bochurim, as the rosh yeshivah seemed to misunderstand the premise for my visit. He was more impressed with the fact that I was learning morning seder myself.

He looked as though he was about to stand up, and it was clear that our meeting was nearly over in his mind as he said, “It’s a big maileh for a doctor to learn every day. Yasher koach for stopping by, and you should have much hatzlachah in your learning.”

“Kevod Harav,” I spoke quickly. “I wanted to let you know that I work with yeshivah bochurim and the main reason I’m here today is to speak with you about what I have to offer.”

“Baruch Hashem, Dr. Yaakov, we don’t have any boys that are into drugs or have problems like that. We are a very yashrusdig and emesdig yeshivah.”

“I understand completely, Kevod Harav, but I don’t just work with young men who are off the derech and have drug problems. Many good bochurim have problems with OCD, depression, and other conditions that can be treated successfully to literally change their lives around.”

“Baruch Hashem, we focus here a lot on middos and we do a good job.”

I didn’t want to be rude, but I felt the rosh yeshivah should know the emes. “Kevod Harav, in my practice I’ve seen at least two young men from your yeshivah. They weren’t ‘troubled neshamos’ or ‘problems,’ but they needed to see a psychiatrist. Baruch Hashem, they’re doing better now. I would like to help your rebbeim learn how to recognize the signs and symptoms of distress and mental illness. We could be a great help to a lot of talmidim this way.”

The rosh yeshivah was stunned — and for a moment it appeared as though he was ready to agree with me. Bringing me in to help some bochurim didn’t have to mean that he wasn’t running a great yeshivah, but rather that sometimes human beings are just human, and have human-type problems like emotional distress and even mental illness.

But then he stood up suddenly to shake my hand and told me, “It sounds like there are a lot of yeshivos for troubled young men who need your help. Anyways, you should have hatzlachah in your learning. That’s the ikar.”

“Amen!” I said and thanked the rav for his time. As I walked out, I davened that Hashem should watch over his bochurim.

Originally featured in Mishpacha, Issue 696. Jacob L. Freedman is a psychiatrist and business consultant based in Israel. When he’s not busy with his patients, Dr. Freedman can be found learning Torah in The Old City or hiking the hills outside of Jerusalem.  Dr. Freedman can be reached most easily through his website www.drjacoblfreedman.com.