Rashi notes the discrepancy in the ratio of five to one hundred. If five Jews can pursue one hundred, which is a ratio of one to twenty, then a hundred Jews should pursue two thousand – not more. Yet, the Torah states that one hundred will pursue ten thousand. This teaches that when more people are united in serving Hashem, the effectiveness of their actions increase exponentially. The same Reuven and Shimon who had earlier been pursuing one hundred are now able to achieve much more. They have not changed, but their power has, because they are part of a tzibbur, community/group.
In his closing remarks to Shemiras HaLashon, the Chafetz Chaim, zl, quotes this Chazal in his emphasis of the extreme importance of tefillah b’tzibbur, communal prayer, as opposed to private prayer at home. He explains that not only does one increase his personal reward by davening with a minyan, quorum, of at least ten men, but his actual prayer has greater efficacy. He employs a simple rationale. If a person has before him two business propositions; one which could bring him a profit of five dollars and one that will incur a profit which is quadruple that – is there any question which one he will choose?
While this thesis focuses on tefillah b’tzibbur, it applies equally to all mitzvos in which a multitude of people enhance the mitzvah. Furthermore, as the Chafetz Chaim concludes, the three dominant mitzvos associated with tefillah: donning Tefillin; Krias Shema; remembering the exodus from Egypt – are all embellished when a person davens b’tzibbur.
One’s inclusion in a group can have both positive and negative consequences. In Sefer Bamidbar 1:49, the Torah repeats a number of times that Shevet Levi was not counted together with the rest of the nation. Rashi explains that Hashem foresaw that one day a Heavenly decree would be issued against those twenty years of age and above, that they all perish in the wilderness. By excluding the Tribe of Levi from the communal census, they were no longer part of the Klal, the larger community, and, hence, not subject to the effects of the decree. When a punishment is issued against a group, all members of the group, regardless of personal merit, are included. While there are exceptions to the rule – they are to be viewed as such.
The inclusion of an individual in a communal group likewise plays itself out in a positive manner. Thus, we find that, when Elisha HaNavi asked the Shunamis woman if she needed any favors, her rely was, bsoch ami anochi yosheves, “Among my people I dwell” (Melachim II 4:13). The Zohar Hakadosh explains that this dialogue occurred on Rosh Hashanah, and Elisha was intimating, “Do you seek any preferential treatment from the Almighty?” She replied, “I wish to be included as a member of the community.” She did not want to be singled out as an individual. Horav Chaim Shmuelwitz, zl, explains that one who is judged as part of the community enjoys the same benefits that are granted to the community – regardless of lack of punishment.
This, comments the Rosh Yeshivah, is also the basis for the admonition of Chazal, “A person should always associate himself with the community” (Berachos 30a). Rashi explains this to mean that one’s prayers should be articulated in the plural, rather than the singular, form. By praying for the public welfare, one is automatically included with them. Therefore, he does not require personal merit in order to benefit from his personal prayers. The reason for this, explains Rav Chaim, is that the community is not viewed merely as a collection of individuals, but rather, as a new entity exceeding the aggregate of the merits and strengths of the individuals of which it is comprised.
The incredible inclusive power manifest by the community is underscored by Chazal when they advise us: Im paga bach menuvel zeh, mashcheihu l’bais ha’medrash, “If this despicable (abominable) one (the yetzer hora, evil inclination) meets you (if he begins bothering you), draw him into the study hall” (Kedushin 30b). The bais ha’medrash is the communal Torah center, the place where many gather to study Torah individually – and collectively – all under one roof. It is there that the “despicable one” is powerless to dominate over a person. Thus, explains Rav Chaim, the best advice is for a person to unite with the community, remain steadfastly committed to being part of the klal, for the merit of the rabim, multitude, will encompass and benefit all who are found there.
Klal, community, is determined by daas Torah, the wisdom developed by those whose entire lives are steeped in Torah study and erudition. It takes a mind honed by Torah to develop such an acute perspective that one sees what eludes others. Horav Elazar M. Shach, zl, relates that when Horav Meir Simchah, zl, of Dvinsk, author of the Or Sameach and Meshech Chochmah, became gravely ill with his final illness, another distinguished Rav wanted to send telegrams to every Jewish community and leader to recite Tehillim for the Or Sameach. The Or Sameach demurred and resisted efforts at disseminating his need for communal prayer. He explained that, as long as people consider him to be part of the large communal collective, he is part of the wider community. Once his illness is publicized, and he becomes the exclusive subject of prayer, he will be judged differently. He felt that this would intensify the critical and grave nature of his illness.
The Chafetz Chaim proposes another reason for the importance of praying with a minyan, the incredible reward in store for answering Amen, Borchu, and Amen, Yehei Shmei Rabba, with all of his kochos, might: all of his sins are forgiven. Imagine atonement for all of our sins, and all that is expected of us is to daven with passion, and answer Amen as if we mean it.
Regrettably, we do not acknowledge the importance of answering Amen to Kaddish, and blessings in general. As a result, we either ignore the blessing, or answer Amen half-heartedly. Clearly, our reluctance to “do it right” is due to a lack of awareness of the overriding significance of tefillah b’tzibur. The following episode was related by the Levush, Horav Mordechai Yoffe, zl, who went to learn Torah from a great Sephardic gadol, Torah leader, whose name was Rabbi Abohav. Once, Rabbi Abohav’s son made a bracha, and Rabbi Yoffe, for some reason, did not answer Amen. Rabbi Abohav became so angry with his student that he put him in cherem, excommunicated him. When the prodigious student looked at his Rebbe with a stunned image, the Rebbe told him the following story which depicts the severe punishment one receives for neglecting to answer Amen. Perhaps if he “listened” to the story, he would understand why his Rebbe was exceedingly careful about answering Amen properly.
Prior to the Spanish Inquisition and eventual expulsion of 1492, Spain was replete with a number of holy Jewish communities. The king had a number of times attempted to free himself and his community from the Jews, but, due to the efforts of a pious Jew whom the king admired, the Jews had always been spared. Following the latest edict calling for the Jews’ expulsion from Spain, the community leaders once again approached this righteous fellow and implored him to intercede on their behalf. He, of course, agreed, but asked to first daven Minchah. They persuaded him to go immediately, since it was a matter of life or death.
The king was pleased to see his friend, and they began to talk about the decree. Meanwhile, a priest entered the king’s office and immediately began to bless the king in Latin. It was a lengthy litany, so the Jew saw an opportunity to move to the side and daven Minchah. Regrettably, the priest concluded his blessing while the Jew was still reciting Shemoneh Esrai. The priest called upon all those assembled to answer Amen to his blessing of the king. Everyone responded except for the pious Jew, who was answering to a Higher Authority. When the priest saw that the Jew had not affirmed his blessing with a resounding Amen, he went into a frenzy. He screamed that now his blessing of the king would not be fulfilled, because someone had not responded with Amen.
Hearing this, the king also became infuriated and ordered that the Jew immediately be put to death and his body be mutilated and quartered and sent to his home. He then expelled all of the Jews from his kingdom. Why? Why did this Jew receive such a terrible death? Why were all the Jews exiled? One of the closest friends of the deceased fasted to be allowed to know what sin it was that catalyzed this gruesome punishment. The dead Jew appeared to his friend in a dream and explained that once he had neglected to say Amen to a child’s brachah. Until then, the Heavenly Court had set aside his punishment. When the priest became angry over his not saying Amen to his blessing, the Heavenly Tribunal decided to prosecute him and sentenced him to this horrible death. Rav Abohav concluded the story, saying, “I will forgive you if you will publicize the story and warn everyone to be meticulous concerning answering Amen.”
In Sparks of Glory, Rabbi Moshe Prager, zl, relates the poignant story of a young boy named Shmulik. His father risked his life daily to pray with a secret makeshift minyan in a basement, in Warsaw. Shmulik, too, wanted to attend the minyan. His father flatly refused. It was too dangerous. It meant putting everyone at risk. There could only be so many people there. As the “congregation” was praying, they heard a soft knock at the door. They had established a code, which was a series of knocks. This knock did not fit with the code. With great trepidation and fear, they slowly opened the door – prepared for the worst. All they saw was little Shmulik. When Shmulik’s father saw his young child at the door, he became quite upset, and he screamed, “What are you doing here? I told you never to come here! Why did you disobey my orders?” The father then proceeded to slap Shmulik across the face.
Shmulik held his own and cried out, “Will you beat me, too? Have I not had my share of blows? I, too, am a Jew. I, too, want to pray!”
I included this story, so that the next time we are in our warm beds, too lazy to get up for minyan, or at home at night and too “busy” to go to Minchah/Maariv, perhaps we will think about the Jews who, throughout the ages, risked their lives to daven with a minyan. Let us not forget Shmulik’s clarion call, “We, too, are Jews!”
