Rule Number One

My rebbi, Rabbi Yitzchak Berkovits of the Jerusalem Kollel, made me promise that in addition to my work as a drug counselor I will never stop teaching and working as a rebbi in a proper yeshivah. This has undoubtedly been one of the best pieces of advice I ever got. The contrast keeps me grounded, and I am forever grateful to my talmidim and the rosh yeshivah, Rabbi Yishai Kutoff, for allowing me this amazing opportunity. I am blessed with the greatest talmidim a rebbi could ask for; they remind me that not all 17-year-olds are trying to get their hands on drugs in order to forget their trauma. They remind me that sometimes all a person needs is a rebbi.

As I was finishing up my 12th grade Gemara shiur, I reminded the boys of our plans for that evening. “Bonfire in my backyard after night seder, guys, don’t forget,” I called. As I walked out of the room my phone rang.

“Hello?”

“Hey, Yossi, we got a problem.” It was Ezra, a close friend of mine. “Do you mind talking to my for wife a minute?” Rina had just qualified as a therapist and was working as a guidance counselor in a Bais Yaakov.

Rina came on the line. “So, I have this case,” she started, “and I’m slightly out of my league with this one.” One sign of a good therapist is that she’s still asking for advice. “The girl is from a very frum home… I mean, she’s a very frum girl!” She sounded totally exasperated. “I don’t know how it happened, but she got involved with an older boy in her area, and he’s telling her to run away with him. He’s known to use drugs and be involved in dangerous stuff. The crazy part is she is actually considering it!” Rina continued to explain the details of the situation as I pulled up in front of my house.