While on a very basic surface level the above may seem like a case of good parenting, if we scratch only a drop below the surface, the scenario begs the question of what we are actually accomplishing.

Surely, some parenting is better than no parenting, and recognition of the existence of manners is better than no such awareness at all. Still, does “proper manners” mean that we behave with respect and sensitivity to others, always, or that we merely put on a show of doing so? Is a child who barks a request - and then throws in the word ‘please’ with barely concealed disdain - exhibiting better behavior or manners than a child who would ask, pleasantly and respectfully, “Can I have more ketchup?” even if he forgot to add ‘the magic word’?

This is not to minimize the importance of the word ‘please’ or other similar polite expressions. The way we speak and the words we use tend to have an effect on the rest of what we say and on how we express ourselves. Moreover, the Torah itself is replete with examples of where our forefathers - and indeed G-d Himself - uses the word “nah” as a proper way of presenting a request.

Even so, such niceties as the words ‘please’ and ‘thank you’ are only fitting so long as the rest of what we express and how we express ourselves are equally polite and respectful. Otherwise, it’s like wearing a tie with our pajamas, serving a spoiled or moldy dish on our finest china, or advertising for Pesach ‘non-gebrokts’ food which one can’t even be sure isn’t chometz - or even kosher. Superficial trappings can only enhance an underlying product which is as good, or better, than the dressing.

How many times have we tried to reason with some indifferent store manager, owner or company representative, who tells us, “I’m sorry, but there is nothing I can do,” and it is quite clear that he isn’t sorry at all, and that there is a lot he can do, but is rather uninterested in assisting us? Does the fact that he is trained to say, “I’m sorry,” make him more caring? Does it mean he is going the extra mile for us, when he isn’t?

Often, people yell in anger, “Would you please get out of my sight now?!” Does their ‘please’ ever mean anything, when it is clearly little more than a manner of speech they acquired?

How many of us have been turned off by someone who plasters a fake smile on his or her face and tells us, “I’m so happy you’re here,” while giving off powerful vibes which make it clear that our presence is anything but wanted or appreciated?

We live in an olam hasheker, in a world of falsity and superficiality. People can say one thing and mean something else entirely. We can act properly, even using cultured language and employing proper etiquette, and still be lacking in basic human decency and mentchlichkeit.

When we set out to teach our children proper manners and lay out a healthy foundation for interpersonal relations, what should our goal be? In which areas should our greatest emphasis lie? On the polish, or on the product? Is there, indeed, a ‘magic word’ which suddenly changes a request from improper to proper, or should we rather focus on a change in attitude?

We surely mean well, but are we sending a wrong message when we imply that a barked demand somehow becomes acceptable when accompanied by a barked ‘please’? When a child yells and demands something, shouldn’t we remind him, “How do we ask for something?” - implying the need for a change in tone and attitude - rather than allow him to amend his unruly demand with a word he clearly does not mean?

Our goal, after all, is to teach our children to become better people, not merely to put on a show of being one. Once a person’s manners are genuine - not merely a convincing performance - the ‘please’ and the ‘thank you’ should follow mostly on their own, with little prodding.

This same idea applies as well to areas other than parenting or etiquette. The way we daven, our performance of the mitzvos, and the manner in which we do chessed can all be with a greater focus on the genuine rather than the superficial. In today’s world, with the excessive emphasis on photo ops, sound bites, eye-catching posters and attention-grabbing projects, it’s easy for the real people and the genuine acts of accomplishments and chessed to fall beneath the radar screen.

Let us not be fooled, though.

A ‘simple’ person with a positive attitude and a genuine smile for everyone he meets may do a lot more in one day than a glitzy, month-long, “Smile-4-A-Friend” project. We may never hear about the first person, while the fancier project may be written about, discussed and raved over. If we were to be that first person - going about our quiet way, caring, sharing, smiling or helping - we may even feel a little put out or insignificant.

Those feelings would be badly misplaced.

Real people, genuine people, do so much, and most of us will never hear about them or their accomplishments. A caring companion, a considerate co-worker, a kind boss, a conscientious employee, a selfless parent or a forgiving friend can affect other people’s lives all the time, and in real time. The same cannot be said for charm, a smooth manner, a suave demeanor or an excess of platitudes.

Our focus should be on being real. No magic trick or magic word will accomplish what genuine concern, caring and sensitivity can. We must be a mentch, not merely act like one.

The Vilna Gaon (Even Sheleimah 4:13) makes a startling observation. “Most nonbelievers and those who sin between man and G-d seem to possess an easy nature (between man and their fellow man). This is one of the cunning traps of the yeitzer harah [who makes it easy for them to be that way] to ensnare others to be mistakenly taken in by them and thus follow their ways.”

In other words, it’s not by chance that so many of those whose hashkafos and way of life differ from our own seem to possess an easy manner, have a way with people, and are masters of etiquette and social grace. The yeitzer harah specifically makes it difficult for us and easy for them. He fills the superficial world around us with an endearing charm and an aura of glitz, wonder and magic.

We mustn’t be fooled. Looks can deceive, but we know better. It may take energy and effort, but we have it within us to not only look magical, but to be magical. We can replace a magic word with a magic world.

This article was written l’zechus refuah sheleimah for Baruch ben Baila.