There is no night like the Seder night. The Seder night is a night of chinuch. It is the night, the seforim teach us, when every father is given the opportunity to inculcate the foundations of our emunah into his children. It is a night when Hashem opens the hearts of children of all ages and enables all the exalted chinuch messages—emunah, bitachon, Hashgocha Protis, ahavas Hashem, and yiras Shomayim—to deeply penetrate the neshomah of each child.

That is why the Seder is such an exalted opportunity. There is no other night in the year when a father has the degree of siyata diShmaya to inculcate these foundational values into his child, and there is no other night when the neshomah of a child is as open as it is on the Seder night. That is why it is important for fathers to properly prepare for the Seder. Think about the lessons you want to impart before the Seder and make them clear and simple.

That said, it is also important to note that the Seder night is just the beginning. A person can’t be yotzei his obligation of chinuch with the Seder night alone. A person must continue to invest in this most important task of chinuch throughout the year. Even if you have a wonderful Seder and give over so many important yesodos of chinuch to your children, if you don’t follow up during the rest of the year, there will be little room for those lessons to actually bear fruit.

A Disturbing Incident

Let me share a story with you. I don’t often go away from home for Shabbos, but some time ago, I had occasion to attend a simcha in a different community. While there, I witnessed something that really bothered me. It was toward the end of Shabbos. I had just finished davening Mincha, and there was still time before shkiah, so I sat down to learn in the bais medrash and tried to finish the Rashis on the parsha.

Several tables over was a yungerman who had brought his son with him for Mincha. The child was young, I would estimate no more than five years old. After Mincha, this yungerman got into a good shmooze with another yungerman. As they were animatedly talking, I noticed the little child beginning to fidget. A couple of minutes later, he began saying, “Totty, I want to go home.” When there was no response, he began whining, “T-o-t-t-t-y-y-y. I want to go home!”

His father seemed totally oblivious and kept on talking. Meanwhile, I certainly couldn’t learn Chumash-Rashi while hearing a child whining so plaintively. The father kept talking, not even taking the time to tell his son that it would just be another minute.

Finally, the little boy began pulling at his father’s fingers, calling his father’s name in an even louder, whinier voice. When that, too, didn’t elicit a response, he began pulling at his father’s suit jacket pocket.

As this was transpiring, I was becoming increasingly upset. I wondered: Why did he even bring his five-year-old for Mincha? Clearly, a five-year-old is not holding by davening yet. But even more, if he did bring him, why isn’t he paying attention to him? Does he really want his son to view shul as a place where “I am a prisoner and my father is so taken up with his friends that he doesn’t even care about me screaming for twenty minutes straight”?

Is that how any father wants his son to view shul—as a horrible place where no one listens to him?

Furthermore, I thought, how foolish is this father! Today, his son wants him. He is calling for his Totty. However, if he continues this way, that same child will one day, chas veshalom, not want anything to do with his father. He will assume that he is unimportant to his father, that his feelings are unimportant, and he will then seek the company of others.

Rebbetzin Salomon, wife of the unforgettable mashgiach, Rav Matisyohu Salomon, would often say, “If you listen to what your children are telling you and make sure to interest yourself in what they have to say when they are five years old, they will want to talk to you when they are fifteen. And if not…”

Even if this father might have conducted the most wonderful Seder night in the world and inculcated all the right values, if this is how he follows up, he will not succeed in that ultimate, exalted, and hallowed task that Hashem has entrusted to him—the chinuch of his children.

The Lost Older/Younger Bochur Relationship

Another unrelated aspect of chinuch is that sometimes a father must recognize that he himself cannot do certain things on his own when it comes to chinuch. A prime example is learning with one’s child. There are many children today who find it difficult to learn with their fathers. Firstly, no father should feel that he has failed because his son doesn’t want to learn with him. It is extremely common in this generation. Thus, in that case, chinuch would mean hiring an excellent chavrusa or tutor who can learn with his son.

Sometimes, especially when it comes to bochurim, chinuch means finding him a yeshiva that is fitting for him (not for you, but for him), thereby placing him in an environment that will be conducive to his spiritual growth.

One thing I have noticed that is different today from when I was growing up is the fact that there are far fewer yeshivos where young mesivta bochurim have the opportunity to mix and learn with older bais medrash-aged bochurim. At one time, the lines were not drawn as rigidly, and because the Torah world was much smaller, high school-aged and bais medrash-aged bochurim often learned in the same yeshiva and the same bais medrash, offering many opportunities to have a seder at night with an older bochur or just shmooze.

The impact that a good older bochur can have on a younger bochur is incalculable. The older bochur is neither a rebbi nor a parent, but in some ways, because he is closer in age and young bochurim look up to him, he can have a transformative impact.

I am not just saying this from observation, but also from personal experience. Let me share something personal. When I was a young bochur in mesivta/high school, I was not confident at all. In today’s world, I would probably be described as “shvach” in learning. There were two older bais medrash bochurim who took me under their wings. They made sedorim with me—one a late-night, post-Maariv seder, and the other a pre-Shacharis seder.

I would like to mention one of them, because his fortieth yahrtzeit was just marked on 9 Nissan. Nuttie Rosenblum, Notta Shalom ben Reb Asher Anshel z”l, was tragically shot by a murderer while visiting the city where his in-laws lived, leaving behind his young wife and their three-week-old baby, who was never zoche to know him.

Nuttie helped ease me into yeshiva, gave me guidance in learning, made a bekius seder with me, and really taught me how to properly look at a Gemara, translate difficult words, and at the same time slip in a cupcake, a donut, and even a deli sandwich on occasion. The impact upon me was colossal.

Forty years may sound like a long time, but as long as it may sound, I have still never forgotten Nuttie and all that he did for me. Often, when I come to certain words in the Gemara that he taught me, I think about him and can still hear his voice and the niggun with which he said them.

The other bais medrash bochur would not want me to mention his name in public, but Reb Y.A. completely opened up my mind, inculcating new ideas and ideals in avodas Hashem that changed me.

These bochurim totally elevated my hasagos of what it means to be a ben Torah and an ehrliche Yid. Even after they left yeshiva, or after I left, they would send me letters full of chizuk. Yes, people actually wrote letters and mailed them back then.

That is another aspect of chinuch that I wish were more prevalent today, because when I look around, I see so many young mesivta bochurim who would soar if they only had an older bochur to keep an eye on them and interact with them.

The bottom line is that chinuch may certainly start with the hallowed Seder night, but that is just the beginning.

Gut Yom Tov.