Selichos...A Follow Up

Last week’s “Why Do We Say Selichos” article inspired significantly more feedback than anything else I’ve written here. I may be a bit strange and eccentric (“just a bit?” I hear you asking), but the response confirms that I’m far from the only one who struggles with the heavy structure of selichos. In fact, I know of some yeshivos and shuls that have cut out at least some of the text.

Those changes can help, but they don’t address the core problem: How can our Torah observance be as effective and impactful as possible within a Judaism that seems to universally impose some very difficult minhagim? Do individuals have the right to simply ignore practices that don’t work for them?

I certainly don’t have an authoritative opinion on those serious questions, but I have certainly thought about them a lot over the years.

First of all, not all minhagim were created equal. A practice clearly rooted in a gemara or within unambiguous halachic statements from rishonim is going to be hard to ignore. But later innovations are a different story. And, given the vast scope of innovation from the past few centuries, it’s perfectly reasonable for someone to identify more with one specific tradition over others.

Let me illustrate using selichos as an example. Whenever considering changes, it’s particularly important to be clear about the larger halachic context. I will therefore note that the gemara (Taanis 15a) discusses adding special prayers for public fast days proclaimed in the face of looming disasters like drought and famine. The text suggested by the gemara (“מי שענה את אברהם” etc.) is actually found towards the end of our own selichos. Significantly, communal recitation of the 13 middos (Shemos 34:6) in times of urgent need is also mentioned by Chazal (Rosh Hashana 17b).

So the basic use of the modern selichos - at least in response to emergencies - does have legitimate historical origins. Although it’s not clear when and how it was decided to extend the use of the 13 middos to regular use beyond its clear context of communal emergency. (Nusach sefard goes so far as to recite the verses daily throughout the year.)

Reciting selichos - using at least the 13 middos - annually in the lead up to Rosh Hashana is clearly promoted by both the Tur and Shulchan Aruch (#581). I’d therefore want some pretty heavy guns supporting me before I’d consider dropping the practice altogether. But the specifics are vague. They don’t cover many of the details taken for granted today.

For instance, the first Saturday night selichos usually don’t begin until after halachic midnight. But why not? The Mishna Berura (565:12) is adamant: “Except on Yom Kippur, you should never say any selichos or the 13 middos in any form before midnight, ever.” He attributes this to generic “acharonim.” Predictably, his immediate source is the Magen Avraham (565:5) who, in turn, quotes “הכוונות דף ה” - a source closely associated with the Ari.

This is not to debate the authority or value of the Mishna Berura or the Magen Avraham. Their status as leading poskim is unchanged. But this is an excellent example of specific rulings that are based on the personal halachic opinion that it was appropriate to incorporate 17th Century kabbalistic innovations into the halachic process.

If, however, you happen to subscribe to a Torah approach that fiercely rejects such a synthesis - like those of the Chasam Sofer (תשובת חתם סופר או"ח נא "כל המערב דברי קבלה עם ההלכות הפסוקים חייב משום זורע כלאיים") or Rabbi Hirsch - then that particular Magen Avraham (and others like it) simply aren’t relevant to you.

So in that context, there would be nothing wrong with (diplomatically) ignoring the midnight restriction where it doesn’t fit your needs. Similarly, if you’re having trouble working through selichos in a meaningful and coherent way, there’s absolutely nothing wrong with focusing on a more limited subset of the text.

This approach would obviously apply in other places, including kinos in Tisha B’Av and piyutim on Rosh Hashana and Yom Kippur. The very last thing you want to do is imagine that there’s value in just saying words without full understanding and intellectual engagement. After all, the Shulchan Aruch rules in the very first chapter:

טוב מעט תחנונים בכוונה מרבות תחנונים בלא כוונה

“Minimal supplications accompanied by thought and intention are better than many supplications without”