A Place Where Ego Doesn’t Exist

“Abba, what do you think of coming to the school to teach my class basketball?”

That question hung in the air for a few moments, which is odd, because I absolutely love basketball, and I love teaching it. I even taught my wife how to shoot years and years ago. Within five minutes of me showing her the keys to shooting, she was swishing shots from all around. Or maybe that’s just my ego talking…

So why would I hesitate when my daughter, Nili, who is a bat sherut in a Modiin school, asked me if I’d spend an hour teaching her six-year old students?

It’s certainly not a fear of working with young kids. I mean, I’ve got a bunch of my own children, and age six is just about the best age for teaching. They’re so curious, so willing, so energetic.

No, that wasn’t the issue.

Nili’s students are autistic. And I had this image in my mind of trying to get them all to do one thing, only to have them go off in 10 different directions, while the teachers sat on the side laughing at me for expecting too much of the kids.

Still, it was only just a few seconds before I gave her an exuberant “yes!”

Fast-forward three months, and there I was, face-to-face with 10 six-year olds, each with his or her own capabilities, challenges and distractions.

We began.

“Everyone stand on the baseline!” I yelled enthusiastically, hoping they would listen.

I saw them all head over to the line and breathed a sigh of relief. “Okay,” I told myself. “You can do this.”

I first asked each of them to say his/her name. “Lavi!” “Tomer!” “Alyn!” “Maayan!” “Dani!” “Elisha!” “Ilai!” “Romi!” “Yoav!” “Ariel!”

I then took them through two drills – one passing and the other running and dribbling, and what happened almost made me cry on the spot.

Ten kids. Ten different cases of autism. Some capable of doing everything I asked of them. And a few couldn’t even pass the ball. I would hand it to them and they’d sort of allow it to drop from their hands. I felt badly for them. But only for a moment, and then something happened.

But first, a digression: We all know how unintentionally cruel young children can be to each other. Laughing … making fun … calling names. It can be rough.

So what happened?

No matter how capable, how adept (or not) each child was, their wonderful teachers and yes, my Nili, were shouting support and amazement.

“Wow!” “You’re amazing!” “Way to go!”

And if one of the kids fell, or failed to do the drill properly, guess what happened?

“Kol Hakavod!” “You are the champ!”

No laughing. No making fun. No names. Just clapping and cheering.

It was a little basketball-focused, ego-free oasis of love and support. On the spot, I learned a lesson.

The 45 minute session was over in a flash. And as Nili walked me to my car, she asked me whether I had any takeaways from the experience.

“Great kids. But Nili … I can’t get over the fact that there is no ego among them. None.”

“That’s true, Abba. It’s a really special thing about kids with autism.”

I got in my car and began to drive home, but my mind was really going. “How can it be that these kids have mastered being ego-free, and we are all burdened with ego all the time?”

And then I thought about Nili, who’s there with them everyday. And then I thought of my oldest daughter, Tehilla, and her sister, Temima. All three of them have spent time as bnot sherut – as young post-high school women who spend one or two years contributing to the nation of Israel.

Now, we all know how much attention is given to those who join the Israel Defense Forces (IDF) after high school. And I’m proud that two of my sons have given years of their lives in army service. But it’s tough to go through the army ego-free. Just think of how families treat their soldier children when they walk through the door in uniform for the first time. Not exactly a recipe for modesty. And I’ve seen how proudly young men with rifles slung over their shoulders walk into the synagogue on Shabbat.

They think they’re pretty darned cool, to put it simply.

But Sherut Leumi (national service) is different. These young women work in special education, hospitals, nursing homes, health clinics, with teens-at-risk, in disadvantaged communities, and other fields where help is needed. Some even spend a national service year to communities outside of Israel in need of an Israel energy infusion.

And what’s life like for a bat sherut? One day, they may be the center of attention, running a special program in a school or helping – really helping – a young girl who is struggling with her school work, and the next, they may find themselves cutting colored paper into various shapes, stacking chairs or getting coffee for a full-time staffer where they work.

And that’s only the beginning. They don’t live on army bases, being woken up each day and  provided meals. They live in apartments – getting themselves up in the morning, shopping for and cooking their own food and living their lives away from the comfort of their homes.

And when they do arrive home for the weekend, or for a day off here and there … well, let’s just say they don’t receive the excited proud welcome of those who arrive home wearing green.

And as a result, those who provide this kind of national service go through an “Ego-free zone” of education for life. And I see it in my daughters.

(from right) The author’s daughters have each learned so much about what is important in this world through their Sherut Leumi experiences.

I’ve always said those who go through Sherut Leumi have a much bigger challenge than those who enlist in the IDF, because nothing is done for them. These young women (and some young men, too) have to grow up in a matter of weeks. But the payoff they receive is that they have given so much, and are actually receiving valuable ego-free training for life.

So to all those bnot sherut, I take off my hat to you. You are so impressive, and have much to be proud of. You are making a difference in this country, and we all thank you.

But the next time you walk in your house after you’ve spent an exhausting week with adorable little kids who need your help, and you are not greeted with balloons, music and a fresh pot of your favorite dinner made by your Ima, don’t see it as a bummer.

Because ego is a horrible distraction at best, and destructive at worst, and you are spending your days without any of it getting in your way.

Appreciate how special the training is that you are receiving. 

And had I not spent 45 minutes playing basketball with 10 wonderful six-year olds, I would have never seen it myself.