Divrei Vayechi
Our Children’s Prayer
In this week’s parsha,
Yaakov blesses his sons, each blessing according to each son’s character and
ability. While all of his blessings are in fact tefillos; several times, Yaakov
changes their format to explicit prayers. For example, he beseeches Hashem that
“into [Shimon and Levi’s] conspiracy, may my soul not enter! With their
congregation, do not join, O my honor!” (49:5) When blessing Dan, Yaakov again
entreats, “For Your salvation do I long, O Hashem!” (49:18)
Why did Yaakov choose to pray at a time when he was busy arranging matters of his children and his burial? Perhaps he intended to make one last effort to be mechanech his children; by the sheer force of his own example, he hoped to impress upon them the importance of prayer as a central facet of a Jew’s life.
We have learned Yaakov’s final lesson well; every day, tens of thousands of Jewish parents bring their children to shul, sit them in front of a siddur, and --- what happens? Some children enjoy the experience; others obediently sit and sway, still others simply stare around, and then there are those who find themselves on the receiving end of a scolding, an indignant hand pulling them out the door, or some other punishment for disruptive behavior.
What causes the different results? HaRav Dov Brezak shlita, author of Chinuch in Turbulent Times, relates an all-too-real maaseh (22): “One of our contemporary great rabbis related that he observed a father and son sitting in the synagogue. Every few minutes, the father turned to his son and some some harsh sound – ‘Nu?!’ ‘Um!!’ Apparently, his son was not concentrating enough for him. When the prayers were over, this rabbi approached the father for a private word. ‘If you continue in this way,’ the rabbi told the father, ‘one of two things will result: Either your son will stop being religious, of he will stop being normal!’ ‘So what can I do when he daydreams in synagogue instead of praying?’ asked the father. ‘Leave him alone.’”
Rav Brezak went as far as to consult with Harav Yosef Shalom Elyashev on this very issue. Rav Elyashev said: if a child daydreams during praying, we should let him, as it is normal.
Daydreaming, or even mechanical prayer, is not our goal; how are we to be mechanech our children to view tefillah as a positive experience and ultimately as a powerful means to establish, maintain, and develop a close relationship with the A-mighty? In his book, Zriah u’Binyan BaChinuch, HaRav Shlomo Wolbe shlita brings several key pathways (which are also beneficial for general chinuch). Parents’ prayers for their children have such effect, he writes, that “prayer is the most important aspect of all chinuch.” (35) He ascribes his own success to his mother, who prayed for him ten times a day. (34)
Within the realm of parents’ direct chinuch, Rav Wolbe brings two main paths: example and explanation. If parents share warm, loving relationships with their children, naturally, those children will want to emulate their parents. One the other hand, if parents try to live out their fantasies of “success” in their children where they themselves have failed, demanding that the children “do what they say, not what they do,” the results can be destructive. (21)
One could take many directions in explaining the significance of prayer to our children. Certainly, one should teach children proper shul decorum, along with the meanings of the various prayers. HaRav Shimshon Dovid Pincus zt”l explains in Ohel Miriam (127-137) that perhaps our most effective chinuch for tefillah takes place outside of shul. He brings the mishnah in Brochos (5:1) which informs us that “the pious ones of old would wait an hour before prayer, in order to focus their minds on their Father in Heaven.” What did these people do for an hour? They worked on their relationship with Hashem!
How can we, who don’t have three hours a day (one for Shacharis, one for Minchah, and one for Maariv) to devote, follow their example? Answers Rav Pincus: Our minds have been contaminated by “scientism,” a corruption of science which arrogantly dares to declare that the physical universe, which testifies to Hashem’s glory, actually shows the opposite! (This movement hit its height (or nadir) when Yuri Gagarin, the first human in space, announced to the world, “I don’t see any Hashem up here.” (The story goes that while a Soviet teacher was proudly telling this event to her class, a Jewish child in back whispered to his neighbor, “I don’t see the teacher’s brain. It must be that she doesn’t have one!”) One can speed-read through thousands of science textbooks and not find one mention of Hashem’s name. Anyone who has taken any science courses has no doubt been affected by this utter untruth. Therefore, the more we can purge ourselves of this crippling mindset, the closer we can come to Hashem, and the more meaningful will be our davening.
How? The answer has already been laid out for us, says Rav Pincus. The second chapter of Chovos Halevavos is dedicated to teaching us a four-step technique to utilizing the universe to get closer to Hashem, rather than the opposite.
First, says the author, look around you. The earth is full of His glory. Everywhere you turn, you see incredible wisdom. The sheer complexity of any individual item in the briah is enough to make us fall back in wonder. Remember the time you peeked into a microscope and gasped at the shimmering world found in a drop of water? Think about the ocean!
Next, realize that these individual elements work together in a sheer universal harmony that calls out to us, “I am Hashem Your G-d who made all this!” Plants take in carbon dioxide and send out oxygen, which is in turn taken in by people and animals, who send out carbon dioxide, which then goes right back to the plants, and so on.
Third, all these goodnesses are directed for the benefit of humanity. Ma’aseh breishis has been likened to the preparations for a chassunah. First, buiders put up a hall. Then, decorators design the interior, waiters set the tables, caterers bring the food, then the guests and the chassun and kallah – Adam and Chava -- arrive. We are still attending that banquet, and the workers – the earth, plants, animals, etc. -- are still busy serving us whatever we need, in precisely-sized portions. For example, we must have air more constantly than water, so air is more common and less expensive than water. Water, more than food; food, more than clothes; and clothes, more than diamonds. Everything in the universe is given to us in perfect proportion to our needs.
This appreciation naturally brings us to the fourth step: a recognition of Hashem and a powerful hakaras hatov. The four steps must be consistently practiced, but there is no end to the wonderful opportunities available. Says Rav Pincus: If we can in turn teach our children to see the world as a garden of Hashem (which it truly is), then when they sit in front of a siddur, its set prayers can have exciting meaning to them. (Is it any coincidence that the longest brocho is “Yotzer Or,” a blessing upon light?) Furthermore, because every facet of this world fairly screams “Breishis Barah Elokim!” we have no end of topics for meaningful discussion with our children.
No matter how we raise our children, we hope they will share the love of tefillah as exemplified by one Tzvika Vasserman, who lived in Russia. He reached bar mitzvah age at the end of World War I. Even though his family were refugees and could not afford anything beyond a simple affair, he received presents. His favorite was a beautifully bound siddur. Tzvika loved it so much that he took it with him wherever he went, even when he wasn’t praying from it.
After the Tsar had been deposed, Russia was convulsed with a civil war. The Jews suffered worse than all, for gangs took advantage of the disorder and roamed the country, killing as many Jews as they could. One morning, someone burst into shul and cried out, “Run for your lives! Killers are in our city!” Everyone fled except for Tzvika, who had not heard. The shooting outside, however, awoke him to the danger. Instinctively holding onto his beloved siddur, he ran out. Bullets flew over his head. Tzvika ran to the nearest house and begged the Russian family there, “Please save me!” The father, a farmer, felt sorrow for the little boy. He carried Tzvika into the barn and hid him in a pile of hay. No sooner had the farmer left, when thugs led by Petlura y”s stormed the farm, whooping hysterically. Tzvika heard them demand from the farmer, “Hand the Jews over, or we’ll kill you all.” They searched the entire house and came to the barn. “What about this pile of hay?” one said. Answered another: “Take your sword and poke it in.” In his heart, Tzvika prayed like never before. Then he felt a sword’s point in the hay. He whispered Shma, and the sword struck him . . .
Shots rang outside, and the voices left. Tzvika heard the farmer calling, “Are you alive? They’re gone.” Shaking but unwounded, Tzvika crawled out. The farmer saw his siddur and exclaimed, “Look, boy, that book saved your life.” They both stared at the cover, which the sword had sliced, yet been stopped, barely an inch from Tzvika’s trembling body.
Tzvika thanked the farmer profusely, then went back to shul, which was filling with Jews who wished to thank Hashem for being saved. Shacharis continued from where it had left off. That day was a Thursday, and the sefer Torah was read. Tzvika received an aliya, and he gratefully bentched Gomel.
The cut siddur silently told all. Because Tzvika had been taught to love tefillah, he loved the siddur and could not part from it. In turn, it blocked the deadly blow. Could there be a more blatant hashgacha pratis, as expressed through middah k'neged middah?
Tzvika became a talmid chacham who taught Torah all his life. May our children never face the fears he faced, but may they all come to love prayer as much as him, and may all their fervent prayers be answered.