Living the Mensch Code: In My Son’s Words
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I've been writing for this community for over 5 years. That's hundreds of blogs. Some resonate more than others, and I'm always grateful when readers reach out to share what landed for them.
But I've never experienced anything like the response to last week's piece, "My Son Went to Yeshiva. Here's What I Didn't Expect!"
Parents and children reached out from China to Argentina—immediately, openly, and from the heart. Parents who had been living in fear of losing their sons saw a possible new way to hold the situation. And sons who had felt profoundly misunderstood—felt seen, perhaps for the first time since making the courageous and unpopular choice to pursue religious study.
I wrote the piece, as I always do, simply to share my own experience. But clearly, my experience is far more universal than I imagined—or it wouldn't have struck such a chord.
The most common request? Tell us more about the "Mensch Code."
So I went to the original source—my son—and asked him to share more about this evolving playbook for becoming a successful, honorable, and fulfilled man.
What follows is his unedited rendition of the Mensch Code:
When I first came to yeshiva in April 2024, I sat on the roof with the rabbi, who was interviewing me, and told him something I meant with my whole heart: wherever yeshiva took me, my one non-negotiable condition was that it couldn’t create a rift between my family and me.
It had to do the opposite. It had to bring me closer.
Growing in Jewish observance has been the greatest challenge of my life.
First, it forced me to confront a reality that didn’t match the picture I had of my future or even my identity. Then, just as I had done everything I grew up believing was “the right path” and was finally ready to start “real life” after college, I entered a world where I was a complete beginner—starting from scratch. And on top of it all, the value that had anchored my entire life—family—felt shaken. It seemed like I was charting a new path away from everyone I loved and everything I knew.
I initially stayed at Aish for one month. I grew tremendously, but I left out of fear that I wasn’t living in the “real world,” and that therefore none of it was real. Back home, I spent the next year searching for balance with this new outlook on life. I wasn’t on the old path anymore, but I also didn’t yet know what this new path was supposed to look like.
After a year of exploration—and many failed attempts—I came to a simple conclusion: if someone goes to medical school to become a doctor, or law school to become a lawyer, then all the more so that knowing the purpose of life and attachment to God also requires serious training. If I truly wanted a life directed toward my ultimate purpose, I had to treat it like the lifelong discipline it is.
In April 2025, I returned to Aish. Since then, I’ve been learning—and now teaching—full time.
For the purpose of this piece, though, I want to focus on something specific: how this journey unexpectedly led to a deeper, more beautiful relationship with my mother, father, and the rest of my family. And I want to share a few lessons that can help anyone trying to strengthen relationships with the people they love.
Don’t Say a Thing. Just Be.
When I first started growing religiously, I felt an urge to share everything I was learning. Don’t make the same mistake. If you’re really living something true, you don’t need to sell it.
Become it.
When people see a genuine change—more calm, more integrity, more care—they’ll get curious on their own. And when they ask, you’ll be sharing what they’re ready to hear, not what you’re eager to say.
Truth is Communicated Through Simple Acts.
Most people don’t experience truth as an argument. They experience it as a presence.
Wash the dishes when you come home. Make your bed. Turn off the lights when you leave a room. Leave the kitchen cleaner than you found it. Call your mother, father, grandmother, grandfather, siblings, cousins—not because you need something, but because you care. Pay attention to people’s needs and anticipate them before they have to ask. Walk someone to the car if they like being accompanied. Give someone space when you sense they need it.
These small acts communicate something powerful and undeniable: you’re living on a level beyond self-absorption. You’re becoming someone safer, steadier, and more real.
Create a Zero-Tolerance Policy for Anger.
There are certain things in life where “a little” is already too much. Anger is one of them.
Get used to controlling your emotions and staying calm—especially with the people you love most, because they’re often the ones who bear the cost of our worst moments. And if you slip up (because you will), apologize quickly. Own it without excuses. Then get back up and try again.
Become Extremely Educated.
When you take on a life of Jewish observance, you will almost certainly come under fire—sometimes from people who feel your growth is an implicit critique of their own choices. That’s not your job to fix, but you do need to be anchored.
Become educated. Learn the “why” behind what you do. Not so you can win debates, and not so you can prove anyone wrong—but so you can live securely and peacefully in your own mind when you’re challenged. When you don’t feel threatened, you don’t need to argue. And when someone comes genuinely seeking understanding—not a fight—you’ll be able to be a real resource for them.
It’s Time to Step It Up.
Many men in our generation have been trained to chase comfort and convenience. But growth—real growth—demands the opposite. Everything I wrote above is difficult. It requires discipline, humility, patience, and consistency.
The sooner you decide to step it up, the sooner these ways of living become natural. And the more you’ll discover that the “hard way” is actually the good way—the way that makes life richer, calmer, and more meaningful.
One of the downstream effects of living this way is something priceless: a stronger, warmer, more connected relationship with your family. Start now. Start small. The sooner you begin, the sooner your life changes.
Yes, it can be painful to carry the weight of growth. But it’s far more painful to keep living inside a self-comforting delusion. When you choose these steps, you’ll be guided in ways you can’t yet imagine—and the people you love most will feel it before they even understand it.
— Adam Mahboubi
