The Master of Empathy

The title of this clipping from 1973, is no longer PC, but Rabbi Heber's empathy was very real.

About five times a year something unexpected happened at the small Jewish day school I attended as a young girl in the Pittsburgh neighborhood of Squirrel Hill; something that taught me empathy. There was a rabbi who would come to school unannounced seeking students to accompany him to an old age home or perhaps a facility for young adults with intellectual disabilities. The students were meant to spend time with these people: to sing to them or talk with them, perhaps—anything to lift their spirits.

None of the school administrators dared stop Rabbi Leib Heber from pulling kids out of class. No one said no to him. And EVERY student wanted to go with him because for one thing, it meant playing hooky with permission. And what student doesn’t want a decent excuse to get out of school?

The real truth of the matter is that we all felt better after going with Rabbi Heber to visit the elderly, kids with disabilities, and others forced to live an institutional life. We felt we’d done something GOOD—something valuable and kind. It did something for our souls. It taught us empathy.

A Necessary Deed

I never forgot Rabbi Heber and the example he set. He was always organizing amazing community events no one had ever attempted, things like group bar mitzvahs for the deaf. We’d read about these events in the local Jewish newspaper. Rabbi Heber could have wooed rich congregants and chased after honor. But he did none of those things. He helped the disenfranchised in a quiet, matter of fact manner. He did this because he thought it was important and because it was a necessary deed that awaited doing.

More important, he taught the students of Hillel Academy empathy for those with limitations and disabilities. That’s no small thing. No one is born with empathy. It’s something taught by example alone. It’s a value absorbed by imitation.

Empathy Personified

I’ve been lucky enough to parent 12 children. As they made their way through their school years, I always wished for a Rabbi Heber. But he was one of a kind. No one ever showed up at my kids’ schools to take them out to come in contact with the less fortunate up close and personal. That meant it was all up to me to light the way. Not such a problem—after all I DID have a Rabbi Heber as a kid, so I knew just what to do–knew just how to teach my children about empathy.

Today, I think of Rabbi Heber whenever I note someone in my community that might need a helping hand: one my children might provide. I think of him when I come in contact with people who have differences of one sort or another and it informs my behavior. At all times I’m aware that children are watching and learning, even children not my own, just as I watched and learned from the master of empathy, Rabbi Heber.