Why Compassion Must Be the Heart of Our Children's Education

Before the candles were lit on Friday evening, I found myself racing through the house, trying to finish everything while wondering how it was possible that on the Shabbatot that begin the latest, I somehow manage to accomplish the least. Then my youngest daughter burst into tears. In her eyes, it was a full-scale catastrophe.

My five-year-old, dressed in her beautiful Shabbat dress — complete with glittering stars courtesy of AliExpress, had suddenly become Cinderella. One of her Shabbat shoes had disappeared into a room that could only be described as perfectly messy. It was like searching for a needle in a pile of Playmobil. Her crying intensified as she became convinced that her friends would leave for synagogue without her. She sat down on the couch, tears streaming down her face.

Then something beautiful happened.

My second child walked into the living room and immediately wrapped her in a hug. A moment later, my oldest daughter came in and, without even asking what had happened, hugged her too. The baby saw everyone hugging and decided that this was simply what people were doing, so he joined the embrace as well. His sweet little hug finally calmed her down, and she explained the missing-shoe crisis.

In the middle of all the pressure of being terribly late for Shabbat, my heart overflowed. It was one of those pure moments — a gift from Hashem. There is no reward greater for a mother than seeing her children instinctively support one another with love, friendship, and compassion.

The Lump in Your Throat

That moment sparked a conversation, which I joined after lighting the candles.

My oldest daughter said, "Mom, when you see someone crying, it's impossible not to start crying too. Your heart just breaks when you see tears. My tears simply join theirs."

My third child added, "Yes, Mom. When I see her crying, I get this lump in my throat."

I explained that this lump in the throat has a name: compassion and empathy. It is our ability to connect with another person's emotions, and to genuinely feel what someone else is experiencing. That is precisely what makes us human. It is the Divine spark within us.

Just as Hashem is compassionate, so too are we commanded to be compassionate. This may be the most important part of who we are. When it functions properly, it calls us to give to others, even when it is inconvenient, even when there is nothing obvious for us to gain. It is the part of us that longs to connect, to step beyond our own small world, and to truly feel another person's joy or pain. That place in our hearts is what holds society together.

The Responsibility Begins at Home

Imagine what our society could look like if we raised children who simply could not bear the thought of hurting another human being.

Compassion must become one of the highest values in our homes, schools, and communities. But compassion cannot be taught through lectures alone. It grows when children are surrounded by values such as generosity, kindness, respect, self-restraint, thoughtfulness, and the ability to see another person as an equal — not someone beneath them.

Sadly, we have allowed these values to slip lower and lower on our list of priorities.

Now, during the summer vacation, this responsibility belongs neither to experts nor to the education system. It belongs to us, the parents. If we fail to restore compassion to its rightful place, we are, in effect, giving up the very Divine image within us — the part that makes us truly human and the part that makes us resemble our Creator.