Rabbi Lawrence Kelemen tells a story on himself that most teachers of chinuch would rather leave out. Partway through a long shiur on Rav Wolbe’s approach to discipline, he came home and told his wife: “We can’t use harshness anymore.” His wife asked, reasonably, “Well, what do we do instead?” His honest answer: “To be honest, I have no clue — we didn’t get that far in the lecture yet.”
So he stopped the harshness immediately, with nothing yet in place to replace it. His own words: “My house was hefker for six months. My kids were bouncing off the walls, and we had no way of disciplining them.” It took six more months of the shiur before he actually learned what to do instead.
The cost that showed up years later
Here’s the part of the story that should give every parent pause. Years after he’d already stopped the harsh discipline — and even apologized to his son for it directly — his son, at ten or eleven years old, was having a relaxed, ordinary conversation with his mother. Nothing tense, nothing angry. And it just popped out: “You know, by the way, I’ll never forgive Abba for the way he used to treat me.”
The father had corrected course. He had apologized. And the memory was still sitting there, untouched by either the correction or the apology, years later.
What this actually teaches
It would be easy to take the wrong lesson from this story — that apologies don’t work, or that damage is permanent no matter what you do. That’s not the point. The point is narrower and more useful: harsh words and harsh treatment leave a residue that correction alone does not automatically erase. Stopping the behavior is necessary but not sufficient. The relationship still needs active rebuilding, not just the absence of further harm.
It’s also a story about sequencing. Rabbi Kelemen didn’t wait until he had a fully formed alternative before he stopped the harmful behavior — and that was the right call. Six months of a slightly chaotic house was still better than continuing to do damage while waiting for a perfect system. But it’s a reminder to move deliberately: know roughly where you’re headed before you dismantle what’s currently holding the structure together, if you can.
Turning this into action this week
- Separate stopping from replacing. If you know a behavior is harmful, stop it now — don’t wait for the perfect replacement system. But actively go find that replacement quickly; don’t linger in the gap.
- Apologize specifically, not generally. A vague “I’m sorry I was too harsh” lands differently than naming the actual incident or pattern you regret.
- Expect the memory to outlast the behavior. Don’t be discouraged if old hurt surfaces long after you’ve changed. It doesn’t mean your change didn’t matter — it means the relationship needs continued, patient investment, not just a policy change.
- Ask, don’t assume, that the wound has closed. Years later, a gentle, low-pressure check-in — “Was there a time growing up I got it really wrong with you?” — can open a door that silence keeps shut.
Rav Wolbe’s approach to chinuch doesn’t promise a shortcut. It promises that the harder, slower road — patience, consistency, real repair — is the one that actually holds. Rabbi Kelemen’s willingness to tell this story on himself is itself part of the lesson: even the teacher had to learn it the hard way.
To learn more from Rabbi Lawrence Kelemen’s teachings on chinuch and family repair, join the inner circle at lawrencekelemen.com.
This blog was co-written with Artificial Intelligence.