Why Children Hate Davening
I see it almost every Shabbos at shul. Fathers bring their little boys to shul. All those who are younger than eleven play the whole minyan. Here and there, you have an eleven-year-old who is an exceptional “goody-two-shoes” who davens with the minyan, but most eleven-year-olds are off playing as well. The average boy of twelve usually davens in the minyan, but takes a lot of “breaks.”
Here and there I see a father fighting with his boy to daven. The problem is, that children hate davening.
Recently I saw a father, who is a very chassidish and learned man, who had to fight with his eleven-year-old boy to daven. He was the sweetest looking little boy. But he was spending the davening partly playing with his tzitzis, partly putting down his head and snoozing. His disgruntled father kept shaking him awake and pointing to his siddur. So the boy would daven a few words, then stop as soon as his father looked away. The boy didn't even have the will to stand up for Kedushah without his father making him.
So you may ask: Why do children, in general, hate davening?
I am reminded of the time, when I was about six, that my parents were becoming ba'al t'shuvah, taking on one new mitzvah at a time. I loved the idea of becoming frum. Frumkeit was fun! We got together on Shabbos and had a nice meal, with good dessert! Yummy! Then there were the holidays – the fun, fun, holidays. Chanukah! Presents! Jelly donuts! Purim! Costumes! Hamentashen!
To my horror, one Shabbos meal – towards the end of which my brother and I together with our friends who had come over were playing happily in the living room – my father called us into the dining room, announcing that we were going to bench. To bench? I thought that sounded funny. Isn't a bench something you sit on?
We sat down at the table, and my father poured a cup of wine, and led the benching.
It was the most horridly boring experience I had ever endured, ever. It took maybe ten minutes; it felt like ten hours.
It was then that I realized that frumkeit wasn't going to be all fun and games.
When I started first grade, I can't tell you how much I loathed davening. I didn't understand any of the words. (Duh!) I hated benching too, and I would often wind up day-dreaming, not even reciting the words. Needless to say, my teacher was not pleased.
Sometimes, even though my father always brought me to school on time, I would hang out outside the building on purpose so I would be late for davening.
When at shul, I would play outdoors with the rest of the children. That was until I was about twelve, when I finally attained the maturity to daven with the minyan. Actually, I wasn't davening at all. I was reciting words, which I did not understand, and day-dreaming all the while.
In Yeshivah, I decided to finally learn all the words, so that I could actually daven. So I started davening with a Hebrew-English siddur. Eventually I memorized the translation of all the prayers in the siddur.
Guess what? That didn't help me very much.
For instance: The translation of, “Shir u'shvacha, hallel v'zimrah, oz umemsholoh....” is, “Song and praise, adoration and melody, might and dominion....” The translation of, “Nakdishach v'na'aritzach k'noam siach sod sarfei koidesh....” is, “We will hallow and adore You as the sweet words of the assembly of holy Seraphim....”
I couldn't even understand these prayers in English! What does it mean to give Hashem “song and praise?” What's the difference between “song” and “praise?” What does it mean to “hallow and adore” Him as the “sweet words of the assembly of holy Serephim?” Who are the holy Seraphim?
What I couldn't understand was why no one had ever taught me the perush hamilim – the meaning of the prayers. It was never a subject at school. There was Gemarah, Chumash, Halachah and Chassidus – but no perush hamilim!
It took me some extensive learning, over a number of years, studying various books on perush hamilim, until I was finally able to daven with kavanah – really understanding the davening.
When you daven with kavanah – it is an entirely different experience than what we typically call “davening” – just reciting the prayers without truly understanding them.
Now you understand why children hate davening. Children hate doing anything that's boring and meaningless. They don't yet have the self-discipline to “force” themselves to do it.
But imagine if children would be able to learn and understand the words of davening. Then, they would be able to actually truly daven.
I am currently working on a special davening book for children that teaches the inner meanings of all the prayers. Stay tuned!
Here and there I see a father fighting with his boy to daven. The problem is, that children hate davening.
Recently I saw a father, who is a very chassidish and learned man, who had to fight with his eleven-year-old boy to daven. He was the sweetest looking little boy. But he was spending the davening partly playing with his tzitzis, partly putting down his head and snoozing. His disgruntled father kept shaking him awake and pointing to his siddur. So the boy would daven a few words, then stop as soon as his father looked away. The boy didn't even have the will to stand up for Kedushah without his father making him.
So you may ask: Why do children, in general, hate davening?
I am reminded of the time, when I was about six, that my parents were becoming ba'al t'shuvah, taking on one new mitzvah at a time. I loved the idea of becoming frum. Frumkeit was fun! We got together on Shabbos and had a nice meal, with good dessert! Yummy! Then there were the holidays – the fun, fun, holidays. Chanukah! Presents! Jelly donuts! Purim! Costumes! Hamentashen!
To my horror, one Shabbos meal – towards the end of which my brother and I together with our friends who had come over were playing happily in the living room – my father called us into the dining room, announcing that we were going to bench. To bench? I thought that sounded funny. Isn't a bench something you sit on?
We sat down at the table, and my father poured a cup of wine, and led the benching.
It was the most horridly boring experience I had ever endured, ever. It took maybe ten minutes; it felt like ten hours.
It was then that I realized that frumkeit wasn't going to be all fun and games.
When I started first grade, I can't tell you how much I loathed davening. I didn't understand any of the words. (Duh!) I hated benching too, and I would often wind up day-dreaming, not even reciting the words. Needless to say, my teacher was not pleased.
Sometimes, even though my father always brought me to school on time, I would hang out outside the building on purpose so I would be late for davening.
When at shul, I would play outdoors with the rest of the children. That was until I was about twelve, when I finally attained the maturity to daven with the minyan. Actually, I wasn't davening at all. I was reciting words, which I did not understand, and day-dreaming all the while.
In Yeshivah, I decided to finally learn all the words, so that I could actually daven. So I started davening with a Hebrew-English siddur. Eventually I memorized the translation of all the prayers in the siddur.
Guess what? That didn't help me very much.
For instance: The translation of, “Shir u'shvacha, hallel v'zimrah, oz umemsholoh....” is, “Song and praise, adoration and melody, might and dominion....” The translation of, “Nakdishach v'na'aritzach k'noam siach sod sarfei koidesh....” is, “We will hallow and adore You as the sweet words of the assembly of holy Seraphim....”
I couldn't even understand these prayers in English! What does it mean to give Hashem “song and praise?” What's the difference between “song” and “praise?” What does it mean to “hallow and adore” Him as the “sweet words of the assembly of holy Serephim?” Who are the holy Seraphim?
What I couldn't understand was why no one had ever taught me the perush hamilim – the meaning of the prayers. It was never a subject at school. There was Gemarah, Chumash, Halachah and Chassidus – but no perush hamilim!
It took me some extensive learning, over a number of years, studying various books on perush hamilim, until I was finally able to daven with kavanah – really understanding the davening.
When you daven with kavanah – it is an entirely different experience than what we typically call “davening” – just reciting the prayers without truly understanding them.
Now you understand why children hate davening. Children hate doing anything that's boring and meaningless. They don't yet have the self-discipline to “force” themselves to do it.
But imagine if children would be able to learn and understand the words of davening. Then, they would be able to actually truly daven.
I am currently working on a special davening book for children that teaches the inner meanings of all the prayers. Stay tuned!