18 Aug THE MOST IMPORTANT QUESTION NOBODY ASKS

I receive a lot of shidduch refer-
ence calls and people ask all

kinds of questions. Is he kind? Is
she easygoing? Is he a serious
learner? Is she growth-oriented?
Is he responsible? Does she have good middos?
These are all important questions, but there is one
question I almost never get asked, even though I
believe it is one of the greatest predictors not only
of whether someone will have a healthy marriage,
but whether they will have a successful life: Can
this person be influenced?
Can he hear an opinion different from his own
without immediately becoming defensive? Can
she receive feedback without experiencing it as
an attack? Can he say, “I was wrong”? Can she

say, “I never thought of it that way”? Can this per-
son encounter a perspective, an experience, an-
other person, or a piece of Torah and emerge dif-
ferent because of it? We spend a lot of time trying

to determine who someone is. Perhaps we should
spend more time trying to discover whether they
are capable of becoming.
This isn’t only a dating question. The quality of
our marriages depends on whether our spouse can
influence us. Our friendships depend on whether

our friends can get through to us. Our effective-
ness as parents depends on whether our children

can teach us something about what they need.
Our success at work depends on whether we can
receive feedback. Our spiritual lives depend on
whether a rebbe, a sefer, a shiur, an experience, or
the quiet voice of our conscience can penetrate
our assumptions and move us to change. A person
who cannot be influenced cannot grow.
Our parsha introduces us to the ben sorer u’moreh,
the wayward and rebellious son: “Ki yihyeh l’ish
ben sorer u’moreh, einenu shomei’a b’kol aviv

u’v’kol imo, If a man has a wayward and rebel-
lious son who does not listen to the voice of his

father and the voice of his mother.” The Mishnah
(Sanhedrin 71b) teaches that the ben sorer
u’moreh is nidon al shem sofo, judged based on
his end. He is punished not merely for what he has
already done, but because the Torah anticipates
where his behavior will lead.

But this seems to contradict a fundamental prin-
ciple taught elsewhere. When Yishmael was ex-
pelled from Avraham’s home and was dying of

thirst, Hashem saved him. The Torah tells us, “Ki
shama Elokim el kol hana’ar ba’asher hu sham,”
“Hashem heard the voice of the boy where he
was.” Rashi quotes the Midrash that the angels
objected: How could Hashem save Yishmael

when his descendants would one day
cause terrible suffering to the Jewish
people? Hashem responded that at that
moment Yishmael was innocent. Ein
danin es ha’adam ela l’fi ma’asav shel

osah sha’ah, a person is judged ac-
cording to his present conduct.

So which is it? Do we judge a person
ba’asher hu sham, for who he is right
now, or al shem sofo, based upon where he is
heading? Rav Yisroel Meir Druck, in Eish Tamid,
offers an approach that contains an extraordinary
lesson for Elul and for life.
The key to understanding the ben sorer u’moreh

is hiding in plain sight. Listen to the Torah’s re-
peated language: einenu shomei’a b’kol aviv

u’v’kol imo, he does not listen to his father or
mother; v’lo yishma aleihem, he will not listen to

them; einenu shomei’a b’koleinu, he does not lis-
ten to our voice. The Torah doesn’t simply de-
scribe what he does wrong. It emphasizes who he

has become: he doesn’t listen. Perhaps that is
why his future can seemingly be predicted with
certainty.
Rabbeinu Yonah writes in Shaarei Teshuvah

(2:10) that a fundamental prerequisite for teshu-
vah is the willingness to listen. Before we can

change, we must remain reachable. We must be
capable of hearing something we don’t already

believe, considering something that makes us un-
comfortable, and allowing another person to in-
fluence us. A person who makes terrible mistakes

can still have an extraordinary future. Someone
heading in the wrong direction can turn around.
But only if they can hear. If no rebbe, spouse,

parent, child, friend, shiur, sefer, experience, fail-
ure, or voice of conscience can penetrate our cer-
tainty, what mechanism remains through which

we can change?

That may explain the difference between Yish-
mael and the ben sorer u’moreh. Yishmael is

judged ba’asher hu sham because his future is
still open. The ben sorer u’moreh is judged al

shem sofo not simply because he has done some-
thing wrong, but because he has rejected the very

mechanism through which wrong becomes right.
He is hopeless because he cannot listen.

Dr. John Gottman, who has spent decades study-
ing marriage, describes a remarkably similar

concept. One of the important indicators of mari-
tal health to emerge from his research is the abil-
ity to “accept influence” from one’s spouse. A

healthy marriage doesn’t mean agreeing about

everything. It means that when your spouse rais-
es a concern or sees something differently, you

don’t automatically experience that input as a
threat. You can say, “You might be right,” “I
hadn’t considered that,” or “I understand why
you experienced it that way.” What Gottman

identifies as essential to marriage is really essen-
tial to all of life.

It is striking that the Torah concludes the section
of the ben sorer u’moreh with “V’chol Yisrael
yishme’u v’yira’u,” “All of Israel shall hear and

fear.” The story of the person who refuses to lis-
ten concludes with a charge to everyone else:

You listen. Perhaps this is also what we mean
when we say each day, “Ashrei ish sheyishma

l’mitzvosecha.” Fortunate is the person who lis-
tens to Your mitzvos. It isn’t enough to perform

mitzvos; we must allow them to speak to us,
shape us, and change us.
There is a particular urgency to this message as
we enter the season of teshuvah. Teshuvah
doesn’t begin with changing, it begins with being
changeable. Before asking what resolution we

will make this year, we should ask whether any-
one can tell us something we don’t want to hear.

When was the last time somebody changed my

mind? When was the last time I received criti-
cism without immediately explaining it away?

When was the last time I genuinely allowed a

spouse, child, friend, teacher, or sefer to influ-
ence me?

Perhaps this is also why we blow the shofar each
morning during Elul. Every morning of Elul we
begin our day by exercising and conditioning our

capacity to hear. Before we speak, before we de-
fend ourselves, before we explain why we are

right, we listen.

Before Hashem asks us to confess on Yom Kip-
pur, we spend a month conditioning ourselves to

hear. Each morning the shofar asks: Are you still

reachable? Can something penetrate? Can an-
other person get through to you? Can Torah get

through to you? Can Hashem get through to you?
Chazal famously tell us, ben sorer u’moreh lo
hayah v’lo asid lihyos, the ben sorer u’moreh
never actually existed and never will. Why, then,
does the Torah teach it? Derosh v’kabel sechar,

study it and receive reward. The Torah isn’t ulti-
mately telling us about a hopeless teenager. It is

warning us not to become hopeless adults. No-
body’s future is truly sealed. But we move in that

direction when we stop listening, and we move in

the opposite direction every time we allow our-
selves to be influenced.

So perhaps we should ask that question on shid-
duch calls, but more importantly, we should ask it

of ourselves: Am I influenceable? Can my spouse
change my mind? Can my children teach me
something? Can a friend tell me I am wrong?
Can a rebbe challenge me? Can Torah change not
only what I know, but who I am?
Being influenced is not weakness. Changing your
mind is not surrender. The ben sorer u’moreh is
doomed not because he has made mistakes, but
because he refuses to hear anything that could
help him correct them. As long as we can listen,
we can learn. As long as we can learn, we can
grow. And as long as we can grow, no matter who
we are today, our future remains wide open.