I always look forward to meeting new patients when I see my list at the start of the day in clinic. That being said I couldn’t help feeling a special anticipation for my 11 a.m. intake who happened to bear the same name as a great Sephardic chacham from the turn of the 20th century.

Was it merely a coincidence? Or was it a great-great grandson of this tremendous tzaddik that I’d have the zechus to help?

Working in Boston over the years and carrying the Harvard name on my business card got me my share of VIP patients. I’d been the psychiatrist for at least a few professional athletes the wife of a Nobel Prize-winning scientist and a startup millionaire or two. The key to treating these individuals was just to do the same thing I’d do with a regular patient: provide them with exceptional evidence-based care and not get stuck on their external personas.

But here I was getting butterflies in my stomach as a young man with the same name as a chacham whose seforim rested on my shelves walked into my office. Admittedly he didn’t look particularly different than any of my other patients. He was a relatively tall avreich in his mid-20s with a short beard and a nervous smile. He introduced himself formally and sat down. When I asked him what brought him in he told me right off the bat that his grandfather’s grandfather was the famous tzaddik whose name he bore.

So it was him! In a microsecond though I reclaimed my professional voice and posture.

“That’s amazing ” I said “but you know you’d still get high-quality treatment here even if you were named for a janitor at the local football stadium.”

His laugh was somewhat reserved but it was clear I had put him at ease.

“Believe me I’m not boasting ” he said. “It’s just important to understand this because that’s a contributing factor to why I’m here in the first place.”

The young man proceeded to tell me of his yeshivah experience which was in fact quite unremarkable. He was an average learner but not exceptional. And while he had brothers cousins uncles and many other extended family members who were dayanim roshei yeshivah and poskim he was just a regular run-of-the-mill avreich who was following the path he was supposed to take. Baruch Hashem he’d gotten married and things were generally going well.

And then he surprised me by asking for a prescription for Ritalin. Apparently that’s why he made the appointment. You know take Ritalin so you can buckle down and become a gadol — seems like an easy formula. My obvious response was: “Why?”

“Because I’m not a great tzaddik like my holy ancestor. I don’t even have too much luck with my learning. It’s not like I spend all day outside by the coffee machine but I don’t know that I’m suited for staying in learning and being in kollel my whole life.”

“I hear that but does that mean you necessarily have ADHD?”

“I don’t know I’m just not that into my learning anymore. It’s not that I’m not religious chas v’chalilah or that my yiras Shamayim has gone down. It’s just that I don’t see myself being a great tzaddik or even an average rav.”

“Okay. So what do you want to be then?” A fair question no doubt for many young avreichim in their 20s who begin to wonder whether or not they’re cut out for remaining in the kollel system.

“I don’t know maybe a paramedic. I did the ACLS courses with Hatzolah and I’ve always been interested in that stuff. It’s exciting. Don’t get me wrong — it’s not that learning isn’t exciting I just don’t see my future in it. And if you don’t think that it’s because I have ADHD then I don’t know what else to tell you.”

I sat quietly to hear what his next comment would be. “You don’t get it though how could you get it? It’s a bit easier when you’re just named Joe Shmo and not named after one of the great tzaddikim of Yerushalayim.”

I had this one. “As it turns out I kind of just a little bit know how you feel.”

He looked at me with a raised eyebrow as I continued. “At least once or twice a week I get a phone call from someone looking for Rav Yaakov Friedman.”

“The rosh yeshivah from Beitar?”

“That’s the one.”

“He’s a big talmid chacham ” said my patient.

“I know. Much bigger than me for sure.”

The young man blushed before he said a bit sheepishly “Ok I think I get it.”

“But ” I continued “Hashem doesn’t want me to be Yaakov Friedman the rosh yeshivah. There’s already a great man who’s doing a fantastic job as Rav Yaakov Friedman out in Beitar.”

Now it was time to seal the deal. “Hashem wants me to be Yaakov Freedman the psychiatrist so that I can tell you it’s okay to be who you are. Hashem will be proud of you whether you’re the tzaddik of the generation or an ambulance driver. As long as you’re trying your best and keeping His mitzvos.”

My patient couldn’t contain his relief and excitedly blurted out “You know my grandfather’s grandfather made his parnassah binding books? People didn’t even know that he was a tzaddik until toward the end of his life.”

I nodded in understanding. “Don’t forget that the Kaf HaChaim had a candle shop and the mechaber of Shulchan Aruch sold antiques. For what it’s worth I’ve heard that a great mekubal in this generation works in a dairy.”

When our time was up the young man stood up and shook my hand vigorously. “Thank you for everything Doctor Freedman!”

“My pleasure ” I said walking him to the door. “Be in touch if I can ever be helpful down the road.”

After closing the door I sat down to think for a moment and it occurred to me that I could daven to Hashem that I should be a good psychiatrist and a talmid chacham. I then thought about my patient who clearly lacked the regal white beard the maroon fez and the thick glasses of his namesake. And I had no doubt he would make Hashem proud whatever path he took.

Originally featured in Mishpacha Issue 666. 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: drjacoblfreedman.com