“The express minyan.” Bochurim run the whole thing, and their primary goal seems to be getting in and out in record time   

The  Question:

Our teens started davening at the local bochur minyan, a.k.a. “the express minyan.” Bochurim run the whole thing, and their primary goal seems to be getting in and out in record time. I know the mainstream opinion is to be grateful they’re davening at all, but I’ve heard of a similar minyan for adults, too. Is the assumption that my bochurim will outgrow this phase? What if they don’t? And is not outgrowing it also better than nothing?

Rabbi Yerachmiel Garfield

If we want our children to value tefillah, the most impactful thing we can do is work on our own relationship with it. Ultimately, children absorb values by watching how we live

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lthough some may assume that becoming a chinuch podcaster or Mishpacha writer comes with a touch of nevuah, I regret to report that prophecy is not included in the job description. I can’t predict what your son’s lifelong relationship with tefillah will look like, nor whether he’ll continue davening at these quicker minyanim.

I do feel qualified, however, to share that in a situation where a teenager is getting up on his own and going to a minyan (even one that moves a bit faster), it’s hard to imagine a parent saying, “You can’t go to that minyan — you must attend the adult one instead,” and thinking that will be effective chinuch. If the goal is to nurture a connection to tefillah, forbidding him from going to a minyan he’s chosen (and is actually attending!) is unlikely to accomplish much.

But don’t worry! There’s another path you can take to influence his relationship with davening. A harder but a much more powerful one. It’s the path of modeling. If we want our children to value tefillah, the most impactful thing we can do is work on our own relationship with it. Ultimately, children don’t develop meaningful values from our words alone. Rather, they absorb values by watching how we live.

Sadly, tefillah doesn’t always enjoy the best PR in our communities. We say things like “I had to grab a minyan,” or we kvetch about how long davening took, how the chazzan dragged, or how the drashah was boring. Often, our kids are exposed to adults who speak about minyan as an obligation, or worse, a burden, rather than as a treasured opportunity to stand before our Father in Heaven.

In contrast, consider Pesach night. Most families are quite proud of how long their Seder lasted. Yet when it comes to davening, we boast about how fast it went. If we want to counteract this trend, we must consciously celebrate tefillah in our homes by showing respect for it, speaking positively about it, and demonstrating genuine appreciation for the chance to connect to Hashem.

Yes, it’s easier to demand better behavior from our children than to change ourselves. But real chinuch happens when our children see us davening with kavod, with kavanah, with a sense of privilege. That’s what leaves an impression. And if we do that, we can be hopeful that our children will one day seek out a minyan not just for speed or convenience, but because they’ve come to see tefillah as the beautiful gift it truly is.

Rabbi Yerachmiel Garfield is the Head of School at Yeshiva Toras Emes of Houston, and the director of the Yeshiva Leadership Group.

Rabbi Ari Schonfeld

They are teenagers, which means they are an unfinished product. what they struggle with today does not mean they will be this way for life. and as with most areas, anything you turn into a battle, you will ultimately lose

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his question brings me back to my teenage years, growing up in Kew Gardens Hills. As the son and grandson of the rabbis of the Young Israel, I spent my young childhood sitting next to my father shlita, up onstage facing the tzibbur. Imagine being ten years old and having your entire davening being scrutinized by 300 people. That was me. I would sit between my father and the shul president, and I spent most of Shacharis trying to figure out a way to inconspicuously sneak out during the rabbi’s drashah.

So when the option of davening at the “teen minyan” presented itself, I grabbed it faster than a kid grabbing pekelach from the floor at an aufruf.

In my shul, the teen minyan was not just a later start (it was), and not just a weekly kiddush (duh). It was also a real opportunity to learn how do daven from the amud and lein. We would run the minyan, with adult oversight, and learn all the responsibilities that came with it. Whatever ability I have to lein or daven from the amud, I picked up in those years on the fourth floor of YIKGH. (I do admit, my song selection may have changed since then. Singing Vayehi Binsoa HaAron is not so en vogue in my current shul.)

Once a year, we would even take over the main minyan and run it ourselves as a youth Shabbos. I recently met Rabbi Mordechai Willig shlita, who has been the rabbi of the Young Israel of Riverdale for over 50 years. He told me one of the most instrumental moments of his career was when he was a teenager. Growing up in Queens, he was tasked with speaking from the pulpit during a youth Shabbos.

After he finished speaking, my grandfather, Rabbi Fabian Schonfeld ztz”l, approached him and said, “You’re gonna be a rabbi one day.”

He told me that hearing such a compliment from the rabbi gave him an extreme boost of confidence and led him on a path of rabbanus and harbatzas Torah.

From what I understand, this is not often replicated in today’s “local bochur minyan.” There is a lot more emphasis on the start time and the food than there is on developing skills. In many cases, it isn’t even a minyan exclusively for bochurim. It’s just one that starts a lot later than the one the rest of the family attends. And so, as parents, we are inclined to put our foot down and “demand” that our son wake up earlier and daven with us.

Lol. Good luck with that. They are teenagers. Which means that they are an unfinished product. (Aren’t we all?) What they struggle with today does not mean they will be this way for life. And as with most areas, anything that you turn into a battle, you will ultimately lose.

My suggestion would be to something that is sometimes quite difficult to do as parents: Nothing. Do absolutely nothing. Perhaps speak to them about making sure they have a way of waking up in the morning. And then leave them be.

Don’t say, “Daven with them to make sure they’re on time.” That will just irritate them. Avoid the “When I was your age, Zeidy made me daven hashkamah with him.” Even if you’re telling the truth, I can’t imagine those were your best memories.

So take a deep breath, allow them their independence, and perhaps have a little extra kavanah by the brachah of hamaavir sheinah.

If you value davening, eventually they will too. But if instead of just leading by example, you make it too much about them, you are setting them up for a future as parents whose entire approach to tefillah will be to make sure their teenage son doesn’t daven at the late minyan.

Rabbi Ari Schonfeld is the menahel of Yeshiva Ketana of Manhattan and Bais Tzipra of Manhattan, and director of Camp Aish.

(Originally featured in Mishpacha, Issue 1064)