My rebbi, Rav Yitzchok Hutner, was always exploring the follow-up to a Yom Tov. In his words, “Vos iz gebliben funn — What was left over from…Pesach, Sukkos, etc.?”

We find many seforim alluding to taking Sefer Tehillim with us after the Yom Tov of Shavuos. Of the many ways to divide Yidden into categories, one of them is “Tehillim zuggers,” those who are always reciting Tehillim and those who do so only upon special occasions. It becomes obvious when someone is called upon to say a rarely recited kappitel aloud. The teeth begin to break and it is obvious that this person may do fine with Ashrei but a good deal of Tehillim is somewhat foreign to him. For others, who complete Tehillim regularly — monthly, weekly or even daily — the pesukim flow like Shema and Ashrei itself. Sometimes, even otherwise scholarly talmidei chachomim find the words and pesukim challenging because of a lack of familiarity.

The week after Shavuos, the yahrtzeit of Dovid Hamelech, would seem to be a logical time to renew our connection with the wonderful gift of Sefer Tehillim. The Piltzer Rebbe, a grandson of the Chiddushei Horim, writes (Sifsei Tzaddik, Bamidbar, Shavuos, page 39) that “Dovid Hamelech bequeathed to us Sefer Tehillim, where we can each find whatever we need.” He quotes the well-known Chazal (Yalkut Shimoni, beginning of Tehillim) that whoever engages seriously in Sefer Tehillim is considered as if he studied deeply the difficult laws of Negaim and Ohalos.” In explaining this analogy, the rebbe suggests that Negaim and Ohalos both deal with situations that stem from pain, either illness or death. One who says and learns Sefer Tehillim can deal with, assuage and possibly even prevent such torment through the pesukim of one who suffered and overcame many challenges in his own life.

Rav Avrohom Sternbuch, rosh yeshiva of Yeshivas Bnei Tzion-Bobov in London, adds (Be’er Yitzchok, Shavuos, page 38) that “the first word of the Torah, Bereishis, includes the first word of Tehillim, Ashrei, to signify that Dovid granted us the gift of his Tehillim to supplant the need for the harsh conditions that lead to Negaim and Ohalos, pain and death. Just as the Torah itself is called a shirah – the essence of Sefer Tehillim and Torah is a cure for every ill, so does Tehillim soothe and provide a balm for the weary and dejected. Klal Yisroel has seen for centuries, indeed millennia, that whatever ails us can be remedied and cured by reciting Tehillim properly.

Rav Elazar Abuchatzeira (Pekudas Elazar, page 195) quotes his father as explaining why Dovid Hamelech wanted his sefer to be considered specifically like Negaim and Ohalos. If a talmid chochom analyzes a certain nega and decides that it is truly tzoraas, he must still ask a kohein to declare it to be so. Although the kohein may not be as knowledgeable as the talmid chochom, it is the kohein’s word that creates the reality of the halacha (see Rambam, Hilchos Tumas Tzoraas 9:2). Dovid Hamelech wanted his words to work similarly, even without one understanding the words and certainly their esoteric meaning. He definitely got his wish, because ever since, all of Klal Yisroel lovingly and readily recite his words, often attaining their goals miraculously, without knowing exactly what they are saying.

There is a tremendous chiddush in Rav Abuchatzeira’s words that must  be explored. We know that there are several levels to davening with kavanah. We must know exactly which middah is represented by each of the names of Hashem that we utter (Shaarei Teshuvah 5:1). Furthermore, we must actually understand the meaning of each word in every brocha we say (ibid.). We are not even supposed to answer amein to a brocha when we are not aware which brocha was recited, even if the entire congregation is answering amein (Rama 124:8;11). This is because, as the poskim write sharply, we must not merely parrot words, but must have kavanah about each word. It is therefore all the more amazing and surprising that Dovid Hamelech would have wanted his words to resonate with us, even when they are incomprehensible. On the contrary, those Tehillim zuggers we spoke of are often the most dramatic proof of the fulfillment of Dovid’s wish.

But why, indeed, should this be? Why should the noble act of reciting Tehillim have been enacted as being almost emptied of intellectual and rational content? Perhaps the answer is somewhat embedded in the difference between those who learned all night and those who recited Tikkun Leil Shavuos. Now it is true that the Klausenberger Rebbe made a stark distinction between the recitation of Tehillim and the saying of Tikkun Leil Shavuos. He was of the opinion that the purpose of the Tikkun is to remind ourselves about how poor our knowledge is and how we must put our minds and time into learning more Torah. This, he said, is as opposed to the saying of Tehillim, which may be recited without any understanding at all (Divrei Torah 3:39:5). He does write elsewhere (B’chatzros Hachaim, Sivan, 5762, page 7) that the Tikkun accomplished what the Gemara (Brachos 6a) says that “if someone tried to perform a mitzvah and simply couldn’t, he is granted the reward for it anyway.” When we show Hashem that we have tried learning the entire Torah but we just couldn’t, we will be rewarded for the effort.

However, other gedolim make the equation between Tehillim and Tikkun Leil Shavuos. The Ben Ish Chai (Volume 2, Kallah 1) writes that by saying the Tikkun, we are thanking Hashem for His kindness in allowing us to learn at our own pace, often without sufficient depth. Rav Mordechai Eliyahu (Divrei Mordechai, Vayikra, Shavuos, pages 299-300) alludes to the idea that by reciting Tikkun Leil Shavuos, we are in effect replicating the statement of our ancestors when they proclaimed, “Naaseh venishma.” They accepted the entire Torah without knowing what was in it and we do the same when we say the Tikkun.

We can now understand why, as reported by Rav Chaim Kanievsky (B’sod Siach, Shavuos, pages 368-369), the Chazon Ish advised some people to learn all night and others to recite the Tikkun. If someone can accept the Torah by learning it directly, with or without understanding, that is the best. But if one cannot, he should recite the Tikkun, which approximates the famous naaseh venishma, since it is impossible to understand everything one is saying from the Tikkun. Nevertheless, the greatness is that we accept the words as true and from Hashem, just as we recite Tehillim without knowing the meaning of the words. This surely brings together the mitzvah of reciting Tehillim with Dovid Hamelech’s wish to be accepted like the halachos of Negaim and Ohalos.

With some trepidation, this may also be the appropriate moment to suggest an approach to a well-known Medrash (Yalkut Shimoni, Bereishis 41). Adam Harishon saw that Dovid Hamelech was only granted three hours to live, so he gave him the gift of seventy years of his own life. He was supposed to live for a thousand years, but instead he lived for 930. Of course, the meaning of this unique present is shrouded in mystery, but on just one level, it was Dovid Hamelech and his Tehillim that atoned for Adam’s sin. Adam second-guessed Hashem’s edict not to eat of the Eitz Hadaas and so changed the world drastically for the worse. Dovid Hamelech made sure to give back a gift to Klal Yisroel, his Tehillim, which we would recite and cherish even though we didn’t even pretend to understand its meaning. This is not only naaseh venishma, but the antithesis of the aveirah that ruined mankind.

Now that this year’s Mattan Torah has come and gone, let’s savor the unique avodah of davening from our favorite edition of Tehillim, even when we don’t know exactly what we are saying. We are implicitly declaring our trust in Hashem, our gratitude to Dovid Hamelech, and our emunas chachomim that whatever our tzaddikim have said and told us to say is kodesh kodoshim. May all of our tefillos be fulfilled.