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Yeshivat Har Etzion

Rav David Silverberg

Parashat Vayelekh introduces the mitzva of "hakhel." Once in seven years, men, women and children would gather in Yerushalayim for the solemn and reverent reading of the Torah. The Gemara in Chagiga 3a comments that children, too, must come to this ceremony "in order to bring reward to those who bring them [i.e. their parents]." Several later commentaries have questioned this comment of the Gemara in light of the following verse regarding "hakhel": "The children who do not know [the laws of the Torah] shall hear and learn to revere Hashem your God…" The Torah itself provides a reason for the inclusion of the children: the "hakhel" ceremony will instill them with a degree of knowledge that will help steer them in the proper direction upon reaching adulthood. Why, then, did Chazal come up with a reason of their own?

The Maharsha answers by differentiating between two types of children. The aforementioned Gemara refers to children who have yet to reach the age of comprehension and schooling. Regarding this child Chazal seek an original explanation for his participation in "hakhel." Whereas he cannot understand a single word being spoken, why does the Torah mandate his participation? Chazal therefore explain that he comes to bring reward to his parents. The next verse, however, that speaks of the child's hearing and learning at the "hakhel" ceremony, refers to a schoolchild, who, though still not under the formal obligations of the Torah, can and must learn the basics of yirat Shamayim in preparation for adulthood.

The "Ketav Ve-'hakabala" answers along similar lines, only with an interesting twist. He concurs with the Maharsha's reading of the two verses, viewing the first as referring to the infants and the second as speaking of schoolchildren. However, he reads the Gemara slightly differently. The Gemara wondered why the Torah instructed the infants to come along. According to the Maharsha, the Gemara questioned the purpose of bringing small children who won’t understand what is happening. The Ketav Ve-hakabala, by contrast, explains that the Gemara wondered why the Torah needed to explicate the inclusion of infants. Once we have established that the children spoken of in the verse include those beneath schooling age, presumably including babies still suckling from their mothers, then of course these infants would come along - their mothers could not leave home without them!! The Gemara therefore answers, "to bring reward to those who bring them." Meaning, in order to afford the opportunity for greater reward, God made a mitzva out of something that parents would have done in any event. This way, the parents receive reward not only for going to "hakhel" themselves, but also for bringing their infant children, even though they would have done so even without a divine imperative. (This approach is also taken by Rav Yaakov of Lisa - the "Netivot" - in Nachalat Yaakov and cited in the name of the Arizal - see Rav Yosef Engel, Gilyonei HaShas there in Chagiga.)

We will speak more about this Gemara iy"H tomorrow.

Yesterday we discussed the Gemara's comment in Masekhet Chagiga (3a) that the Torah requires parents to bring their children to "hakhel," as mentioned in Parashat Vayelekh, in order that the children "bring reward to those who bring them" (their parents). We then raised the question asked by many later commentators that the Torah itself explains the purpose of the children's participation in "hakhel": in order to learn to fear God (31:13). Why did Chazal search for an explanation when the Torah itself provided one? Today we will cite the answer of the Abarbanel.

Like the approach taken by the Maharsha (as discussed yesterday), the Abarbanel distinguishes between two types of children. However, whereas the Maharsha differentiates between infants and school-age children, the Abarbanel draws a distinction between present and future children. The verse that speaks of the children learning to fear God refers to future children of the adult attendees at "hakhel." This ceremony was to leave such an indelible impact upon those present that it would yield results even with regard to children born to them later on. Parents will speak to their youngsters about the experience of "hakhel" and thereby transmit some of the knowledge and emotion generated by this ceremony. The Gemara that viewed children's participation as serving merely to "bring reward to those who bring them" referred to the current children, who are included only for the benefit of their parents.

From here we can perhaps learn of the importance of what we might term, "generational foresight." It's hard for us to imagine how our experiences and activities will impact upon those around us, most importantly our own children. We should realize, however, that people are strongly influenced by what they do, see, hear and feel. Whereas virtually every experience will therefore affect a person to some degree - minimal as this effect may be - it is bound to ripple and affect those with whom he is most intimately involved. According to the Abarbanel's interpretation of this Gemara, "hakehel" was to inspire thousands of people who were never there - the children of those who were. We ought to therefore ensure to engage in the proper activities so that - if for no other reason - we influence those around us properly.

Tomorrow iy"H we will discuss this Gemara further.

The last two S.A.L.T.'s dealt with a difficult passage in Masekhet Chagiga 3a relevant to Parashat Vayelekh. The verse requires attendance at "hakhel" by even children, and the Gemara explains that their participation serves only one purpose: to bring reward to their parents who bring them. We addressed the question dealt by many scholars throughout the ages that the Torah itself explains that children come to "hakhel" to "learn to revere Hashem your God."

Today, we will raise another difficulty in this Gemara. This passage implies that the children's participation in "hakhel" serves no purpose other than bringing reward to their parents. Apparently, this means that we assume no impact whatsoever will be felt upon the children. If this is so, then for what do the parents earn reward? What has been accomplished by bringing their children that renders parents worthy of God's blessing?

One answer emerges from the approach taken by the "Ketav Ve-hakabala" as discussed two days ago. He explained that this Gemara refers to suckling babies, who would have, by necessity, joined their parents at "hakhel" even were the Torah not to have mandated such. In His desire to bring reward upon Benei Yisrael, God issued a mitzva to do what parents would have done in any event - bring their infants to "hakhel." This is what the Gemara means, "to bring reward to those who bring them." Although the newborn obviously receives no spiritual dividends from attending "hakhel," his parents earn reward purely as a result of the divine command.

The Abarbanel suggests a different answer. Recall from yesterday that unlike the "Ketav Ve-hakabala" and Maharsha, the Abarbanel drew no distinction with regard to age. He explained the verse's description of the children's learning to fear God as referring to future children of the adult participants. The Gemara spoke about present children, regardless of age. According to his approach, then, we don’t understand the Gemara altogether: why would the parent's reward constitute the only benefit of the children's participation? If the children are old enough to learn and understand, then of course it's worthwhile to bring them, regardless of their parent's reward!

The Abarbanel therefore redefines the clause, "to bring reward to those who bring them." He understands this reward as a lightening of the educational burden on the parent's shoulders. For bringing their children to "hakhel," parents receive the reward possible: assistance in educating their . Attendance at the "hakhel" ceremony will accustom the children to religious observance and commitment, thus giving their parents a little boost in their attempt to teach them to abide by the laws of the Torah.

This week we have been discussing the halakha requiring the attendance of children at the "hakhel" ceremony (Masekhet Chagiga 3a). Among the issues that arose from our discussions involves the age at which a child must participate at "hakhel." Specifically, does halakha require the attendance of even infants, as posited by the Maharsha, "Haketav Ve-hakabala" and others, or only children capable of learning something from this ceremony, a position implied by the Abarbanel? [An interesting variation of this second possibility appears in the commentary of Rabbenu Yosef Bekhor Shor, one of the Tosafists, who explains "children" in this context as referring specifically to teenagers.]

This basic question may be rephrased as follows: what is the purpose behind bringing the children? If it serves as educational purpose, then presumably the obligation would include only those youngsters who stand to gain spiritually from attending "hakhel." If, however, the children's attendance serves not the children themselves but their parents, by increasing their reward (as the straightforward reading of the Gemara suggests), then we would perhaps expand the obligation to include all children, newborns and eleven-year-olds alike.

Believe it or not, this controversy may have direct implications for a practical halakhic issue nowadays. Tosafot there in Chagiga remark that this passage in the Gemara serves as the basis for the widespread custom of bringing young children to Bet Kenesset. If, indeed, we view "hakhel" as the basis for children's attendance in shul, then we should determine the proper age at which attendance should begin based on this discussion. If we adopt the view that only children capable of learning must attend "hakhel," then we would inaugurate youngsters to the synagogue only once they have reached such an age. If, however, even the smallest infants must accompany their parents at "hakhel," then children should be brought to shul as soon as this becomes possible.

The Mishna Berura clearly adopted the view that synagogue attendance by youngsters serves purely an educational function, and does not constitute a formal, objective requirement. In 124:28, he offers two reasons to forbid disorderly children from attending synagogue services. First, they will develop bad habits of synagogue decorum, and secondly, they will disrupt the concentration of other worshippers. His first reason implies that whereas the point of bringing children to services is to habituate them in prayer, when their attendance will yield the opposite effect, they should not come to the synagogue. The Mishna Berura is even more explicit in his comments later, in 689:18, where he posits that only school-age children must attend Megilla reading. He proceeds to decry the practice of bringing boisterous children to the reading of the Megilla. He bemoans the disruption to the service and adds that parents fulfill no educational role by bringing their noisy young ones to the synagogue. He mentions nothing of a formal requirement of bringing small children to shul based on the halakha regarding "hakhel." (The Chelkat Yaakov vol. 3, 144 maintains that even children below schooling age should be brought to Megila reading, against the ruling of the Mishna Berura. However, this ruling seems to apply only to Megilla reading, not to synagogue attendance in general.)

It should be noted that in Masekhet Sofrim 18:6 a different verse from this week's reading (29:10) is cited as a basis for bringing children to the synagogue. If we adopt this source, then the halakha regarding "hakhel" will be of no relevance to the issue of bringing children to the Bet Kenesset.

The final of the 613 mitzvot of the Torah appears in Parashat Vayelekh: the obligation to write a Sefer Torah. Today, the generally accepted position with regard to this obligation is that of the Rosh (Hilkhot Sefer Torah, cited in Shulchan Arukh Y.D.270), who claims that this obligation serves to facilitate Torah study. Therefore, we fulfill this mitzva by purchasing Chumashim, Mishnayot, Gemarot and other books of religious scholarship. (For a critique of the position, see Sha'agat Aryeh 36. The Munkatcher Rebbe - Minchat Elazar vol. 2, 54 - understands the Rosh as requiring the purchase of these works in addition to, not as supplanting, the obligation of actually writing a Sefer Torah, an interpretation of the Rosh upheld by the Bet Yosef, as understood by the Seridei Eish vol. 3, 97. The Perisha and Shakh, however, understand the Rosh as requiring the purchase of sefarim in place of writing a Sefer Torah. )

The Gemara (Sanhedrin 21b) mentions that this mitzva requires one to write his own Sefer Torah even if his parents bequeathed one to him. Why is this so, and what does this reflect about the nature of the mitzva?

The Sefer Hachinukh views this requirement of personally writing one's own Sefer Torah - rather than using one from previous generations - as ensuring more widespread use of these Torahs. This works in two ways. First, the fact that every individual must write his own results in an abundance of Sifrei Torah and guarantees that there will never be a shortage thereof. Thus, those who lack the means to afford their own will have no trouble borrowing study material until they can purchase or write their own. The Sefer Hachinukh then adds a second element, a rather insightful psychological observation. Given the natural fascination with the new, people will be more inclined to study with freshly written or purchased Sifrei Kodesh then with old ones. In order to encourage more study, halakha requires each individual to acquire a new Sefer Torah which will arouse his interest more so than an antique handed down by his father.

Unlike this utilitarian approach taken by the Sefer Hachinukh, the Ketav Sofer suggests a more fundamental basis for this halakha. In his view, the requirement on each individual to write his own Torah reflects an important principle related to Torah study: one must study his "own Torah," rather than simply imitating that of his predecessors. Certainly, absorbing information and knowledge transmitted by teachers and parents is indispensable and the very basis of Torah study. After one establishes this foundation, however, he must aspire to write his own Torah, to apply himself diligently and enthusiastically to probe the sacred texts and arrive at his unique understanding, albeit within the limits of the Oral Law. Every student of Torah should establish his own place in Torah, rather than simply amassing information. Thus, according to the Ketav Sofer, the mitzva of writing a Sefer Torah does not merely serve to facilitate Torah learning, but reflects the nature and character of that learning.

Towards the end of Parashat Vayelekh, God tells Moshe of Benei Yisrael's future involvement in idolatry and the consequent calamities they will suffer: "… they will forsake Me and break My covenant that I made with them. Then My anger will flare up against them…" As a result of the crises, God predicts, "They shall say on that day, 'Surely it is because our God is not in our midst that these evils have befallen us.'" God response to this reaction on the part of the people is most startling. The very next verse reads, "And I will hide My face from them on that day because of all the evil they have done in turning to other gods." Why does God promise "hester panim" (the proverbial "turning away" of "His face") after the people acknowledge His power as the source of their persecution?

In one book in my possession I found fifteen answers to this question; we will mention only two (so as to maintain the "L" in "S.A.L.T."). Rav Shimshon Refael Hirsch correctly notes that Benei Yisrael's reaction reflects no indication of remorse. In fact, they do not even attribute their troubles totheir shortcomings. To the contrary, they blame the crises entirely on the Almighty. God foresethat when faced with difficult times Benei Yisrael will acknowledge God as the source, but will not learn the relevant lesson. As the Rambam writes at the outset of Hilkhot Ta'aniyot, crises are meant to trigger a process of soul-searching and repentance. Needless to say, we can never point a definitive finger at any particular wrongdoing as the reason for God's turning away, as it were. Nevertheless, when calamity strikes our reaction must involve pointing a finger at ourselves, not at the Almighty.

Rav Simcha Bunim of Peshischa offers a particularly fascinating answer. Whereas Rav Hirsch attributes the intensification of divine wrath to what Benei Yisrael neglected to say, Rav Simcha Bunim ascribes the added fury to what Benei Yisrael actually do say: "… because God is not in our midst." We must firmly believe that no matter how difficult the situation, God remains with us, as Chazal derive from the verse, "I am with him during times of crisis." Only when Benei Yisrael erroneously conclude that God left them does He in fact do so: "I will hide My face from them on that day." On that day, when the people claim that God has left, this is exactly what will happen. If, however, Benei Yisrael stubbornly maintain their conviction that no matter what, the Almighty always accompanies us, then we will never reach the point of "hester panim," and our Father in heaven will remain with us and eventually show us the light at the end of the dark, dreary tunnel.

The Shulchan Arukh (O.C. 581) mentions a custom that requires the "sheliach tzibbur" who leads the Selichot service to lead the shacharit and mincha services that day, as well. Already the Arukh Hashulchan observes that this was not the accepted practice in the communities in his region, and indeed many if not most congregations nowadays do not make a point of having the same individual lead the services for Selichot and throughout the day. (The Belzer chasidim are among those who do follow this practice.) Nevertheless, it behooves us to understand the underpinnings of this practice that earned mention in the Shulchan Arukh

The Magen Avraham bases this custom on the principle, "Hamatchil be-mitzva omrim lo gemor": one who begins a mitzva - we tell him to complete it (see Rashi, Bemidbar 31:6). However, the application of this principle to our halakha is far less than obvious. The concept of completing a mitzva after having begun means just that - one should not leave a mitzva incomplete. However, this rule does not require that one who does one mitzva must be selected to perform another. Has anyone ever insisted that the one who leads the shacharit service on Shabbat must also read the Torah, do "hagb'ha," read the haftara, and lead the musaf service?! Or, has it ever been suggested that one who help a blind man cross the street must then give a "shiur" in the local yeshiva? Why should one be compelled to continue and lead the shacharit service just because he led the Selichot service?

To explain this custom, Rav Soloveitchik zt"l reexamined the fundamental nature of Selichot. Evidently, he posited, Selichot does not stand independent of the other prayer services throughout the day. Rather, it serves as an introduction to all the prayers recited thereafter. They help assure the effectiveness and acceptance of our shacharit, mincha and ma'ariv services. Rav Soloveitchik went so far as to say that if one recites Selichot in the morning but fails to recite the standard tefilot that day, then he has not even fulfilled the requirement of Selichot!! Whereas Selichot serves primarily as an enhancement of the subsequent prayers that day, failure to recite those prayers renders Selichot meaningless.

Therefore, explained the Rav, Selichot and the daily prayers constitute a single mitzva. Selichot is not an additional prayer; it is an extension of the standard service. Therefore, one who leads the Selichot service is bidden to complete the same mitzva - to lead the rest of the services that day.

This thesis may perhaps be broadened to apply to the entire process of Elul and Yamim Nora'im. All too often we divorce the additional features of this time period - the shofar, the prayers, fasting, "viduy," etc. - from the "shacharit-mincha-maariv" of our lives. We tend to engage in the former without acknowledging its inextricable relationship with the latter. The special religious activities of this period must be viewed the same way as Rav Soloveitchik understood Selichot - as a spiritual enhancement of our standard activities. We cannot be said as having "completed the mitzva" of Yamim Nora'im until we take our "Selichot" with us into our daily life.

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