BS"D
GLORIOUS GATHERING: PARSHAT VEYELECH
Shira Smiles shiur 2017/5777
Summary by Channie Koplowitz Stein
One of the most awe inspiring events of Jewish ritual must have been the
mitzvah of Hakhel. Once every seven years, at the end of the shemitta/Sabbatical
cycle, during the Succot festival, "When all Israel comes to appear before
Hashem, your God, ... you shall read this Torah before all Israel... Gather
together the people - the men, women, small children, and the stranger who is
in your cities - so that they will hear... and learn... and fear Hashem. And
their children who do not know - they shall hear..."
As Rabbi Reiss points out, this gathering of every member of Klal Yisroel seems
to be a reenactment of our nation's receiving the Torah at Mount Sinai. If that
is the case, wouldn't such a gathering be more appropriate for Shavuot when
Hashem actually gave us the Torah than for Succot? Further, there seems to be
an emphasis on bringing the children, even those who cannot yet comprehend the
significance of the gathering. Is it just so that the parents can receive a
reward for the challenges and effort of bringing the children and maintaining
order, as a simple reading of Rashi's answer suggests? Finally, the overriding
question remains: Why link this awesome gathering and reading of the Torah to shemitta,
particularly to the end of the cycle rather than to the beginning?
On a completely esoteric level, we know that seven represents the completion of
one cycle or one order, with a new cycle beginning with the eighth, whether it
is a week, an octave in music, or a shemitta cycle. Along these lines,
rabbi Munk notes that the seven shemitta years represent the seven
millenia of the earth's existence, and a new world order will begin at the
beginning of the eighth millennium. But we can bring the concept of completing
the cycle and beginning a new world order back down to earth. Rabbi Reiss in Meirosh
Tzurim notes that indeed at the end of shemitta we are returning to
the occupations of the mundane world, leaving behind the spiritual cocoon
of shemitta, when we were totally involved in learning Torah instead of
planting and harvesting. And this is precisely why this gathering should take
place on Succot rather than on Shavuot, continues Rabbi Reiss. On Succot we
leave the comfort of our homes and live in these huts, affirming our belief that
it is not our effort but Hashem Who provides for all our physical needs. As we
reenter the world of agricultural labor, (the society of that time was totally
agricultural) we remind ourselves of that same point - we are putting in our
effort, but we rely completely on Hashem for our success and our
sustenance.
An additional aspect of Succot is the heightened sense of joy we feel, and
indeed are commanded to feel, on Succot above all holidays. Included with the
joy, however, is a sense of trembling and awe. As the nation gathered in the
Beit Hamikdosh on the foot festivals, they were filled with awe at being in
Hashem's presence as well as joy and love at being in His presence. These
feelings were reflected in the presence of the earthly king who then read the
Torah to all of Bnei Yisroel, explains Rav Dovid Hofstedter in Dorash Dovid.
At this time, after spending a full year immersed in Torah Study, away from all
mundane concerns, the love for the Torah and for each other as we were gathered
here together, could be intensified and internalized.
Rabbi Weinberger in Shemen Hatov notes that the Shir shel Yom/the
Song of the Day that the Levites sang in the Beit Hamikdosh on Sunday, the
first day of the new weekly cycle after Shabbat, is also the psalm we recite at
Maariv of Rosh Hashanah. Each of these times begins a new cycle, and we
must remember, as this Psalm declares, that the earth and everything in it
belongs to Hashem. Now as we are about to reenter the workforce and plow our fields
anew, we must also remember that everything belongs to Hashem. In this way, we
will merit Hashem's blessings from the produce of the earth.
However, asks Rabbi Shamai Zahn in Letitcha Elyon, would it not be more
logical to schedule this major conclave before shemitta as inspiration
for the spiritual year the people were about to embark on? On the contrary,
answers Rabbi Zahn. One cannot enter into such an elevated spiritual state as Hakhel
demands without preparation. The year of shemitta serves as preparation
for the awe of meeting the King at Hakhel. Similarly, we take time
before Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur to learn and put ourselves in the proper
frame of mind for the approaching Days of Awe. The calendar may dictate the
physical date, but preparation dictates the spiritual readiness of the soul.
Rabbi Uri Weissblum clarifies this point in He'orat Derech. He notes an
unusual verse in Dayenu that we sing at the Pesach Seder. We recite,
"Had He brought us before Mount Sinai and not given us the Torah Dayenu/it
would have been sufficient." If the whole point of the exodus from Egypt
was to receive the Torah, how could just arriving at the mountain without
continuing to receive the Torah have been enough? To this Rabbi Weissblum
explains that the preparation for standing at Sinai was so intense that we were
in such a state of purity to greet the Presence of God. We had done full teshuvah
for questioning Hashem's presence among us as Amalek approached. We had reached
a level so spiritual and with such national unity that we had become again as
pure as Adam before the sin and we could answer as one, "Na'aseh
venishma/We will do and we will listen."
What is the connection between our receiving the Torah, our unity, and teshuvah?
Rabbi Weissblum explains that it all comes down to preparation. Each individual
of Bnei Yisroel was involved in personal preparation through his own teshuvah
process. Collectively, they had reached a state of total commitment to Hashem
through the teshuvah process. Then they could declare as one, "Na'aseh
venishma."
Now we can understand how the year of shemitta can serve as preparation
for Hakhel. One cannot experience the full awesomeness of the day
without deep and extensive preparation. This day was a reenactment of our stand
at Sinai. It required the same intense preparation. Similarly, note our Sages,
all this world is merely a preparation for the world to come. How are we to
prepare for that final goal? Not through rote performance of Torah and
mitzvoth, but through taking at least a brief moment to focus on our observance
before we begin. If we take that moment, it is unlikely we will wonder whether
or not we have benched after eating, or forget where we are up to in our
prayers. We must prepare ourselves in this world so we are ready to enter
"the palace". Since Hakhel parallels the Sinai experience that
brings us into a new spiritual level of existence, every member of our
household, even infants who do not yet understand, must be part of that
experience. After all, the purpose of both, writes Rabbi Dovid Hofstedter in Dorash
Dovid is to come to love and fear Hashem.
We can now understand why Hakhel is connected to shemitta, but it
seems strange that Hakhel is observed not at the actual conclusion of
the shemitta cycle, but at the beginning of the next shemitta
cycle. But Rabbi Dunner in Mikdash Halevi gives us a perfectly logical
psychological explanation. We are just emerging from the spiritual bubble we have
lived in for a full year, a time when we felt a special closeness to Hakodosh
Boruch Hu. When Succot will be over, we will be leaving this realm to reenter
the mundane world with all its struggles for our livelihood. Will we choose to
try lingering in this world just a little longer, or will we eagerly rush ahead
to our farms and our offices? Our attitude at leaving reflects our attitude
toward Hashem and to performing His mitzvoth. Are we disappointed when it rains
on Succot and we cannot sit in the succah, or are we happy not to have to carry
the hot food out of the house into the succah? Do we figuratively kick the
succah for the inconvenience, as the other nations kicked the succah when
Hashem gave them the opportunity to fulfill this mitzvah? Do we linger in shul
after davening (not to socialize), or is one foot out the door running to catch
the train before the final Amen? Let us take our cue from Yaakov Avinu who,
after awakening from his prophetic dream and realizing that the presence of God
permeated this place, was loath to leave, forcing his feet to move so he could
continue his journey.
We are still left to ponder one point: Why were we commanded to bring the
children? It must be more than simply a practical solution since, if all adults
were required to attend, no babysitters would be available. It must also be
deeper than just to give parents the reward for dragging them along, contends
Rabbi Frand. In deed, we bring them along so they can absorb the atmosphere and
sound of Torah so it will be familiar to them as they grow older. [How often
have we heard of an assimilated Jew returning to Yiddishkeit because he became
nostalgic at hearing sounds or encountering scents from childhood hours spent
in Bubbie's or Zaydie's house?] It is for this reason that a parent should
recite his brachot out loud when his infant is awake, and learn Torah in
his home, adds Letitcha Elyon. According to the Steipler Gaon, a parent
should even begin washing negel vasser with his infant child. Prepare
the child for a life of kedusha/holiness. The actions and words leave an
impression even when there is no intellectual understanding.
The beginning of wisdom is fear of Hashem, reminds us the Slonimer Rebbe in Netivot
Shalom. Without that training, the yetzer horo would be impossible
to overcome. We want to imbue in our children a sense of awe that we are always
in Hashem's presences. When a child sees his parent talking to an unseen Being
in prayers and blessings, notes Rabbi Wolbe, he comes to understand, albeit
subliminally, that there exists a Being outside of himself and outside his
physical senses. Hakhel is a preparation for the child's continued
education in his home.
But, as we noted, the parents are rewarded for bringing the children. That
reward, writes he Minchas Michoel in the name of the Ben Ish Chai, is
for the mesirat nefesh, the self sacrifice and effort the parent expends
to teach the children what is important. That concept from Hakhel is to
teach us that indeed we, as parents, must expend time and energy to teach our
children Torah. In spite of long hours at work, we should make time to sit down
personally and learn with them.
We are now approaching the Yomim Noraim/The Days of Awe. The Netivot
Shalom writes that Hakhel is meant to teach us to keep our
priorities straight. The most important gift we can give our children is the
gift of our time, time to spend with our children and acquaint them with the
third partner in their existence, Hakodosh Boruch Hu. We do not yet have Hakhel,
but we do have other religious experiences we can share with our children,
whether it's a Hachnosat Sefer Torah/Dedication of a new Sefer Torah, to
dancing with our children aloft on Simchat Torah, to simply calling them to
watch us as we light Shabbat candles and greeting each other with Shabbat
shalom and a warm hug and kiss afterward. We can bring the experience of Hakhel
into our lives and into the lives of our children, albeit on a smaller scale,
so that the awe and love of the experience will carry forward to infuse our
lives with the awe and joy of being always in Hashem's presence..