Some thoughts on this past week's sidra
Sep. 4th, 2007 11:02 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
rhuThis past Shabbat we read Ki Tavo, the Torah portion that includes the tochacha, the section (Deut. 28) describing the horrible things that will happen if the people return to idolatry. Traditionally, this pericope is read rapidly and sotto voce, and the honor of reciting the blessings before and after the aliyah are given to the person doing the actual reading. This is because of a superstition that this aliyah is bad luck. (In fact, in some communities, the reader is not called up by name, but instead the aliyah is announced as "Ascend, anyone who wants it!")
I don't like superstition mixed in with my religion. I'm a rationalist. So I was pleased by the explanation given by the rabbi at my parents' shul: "This aliyah contains a harsh admonition, and we don't want anyone to think that the reader means it personally against the oleh, so the person getting the aliyah should be someone that everyone knows the reader likes and respects."
I also find it interesting that for a tradition that borders on obsessive when it comes to getting the words right (there are always two people standing on the sides of the person reading the Torah, and in the event of a mistake the reader must back up and re-read) in this case the tradition demands that one mis-read two words. They are considered so distressing that in the public reading of the tochacha they are substituted by euphemisms.
On the other hand, the reading ends with a beautiful passage that was made all the more resonant by the occasion. "Until today, God did not grant you a mind to understand, nor eyes to see, nor ears to hear: I have led you for forty years through the wilderness. The clothes on your back did not tatter, nor did the sandals on your feet; you ate not bread nor drank wine nor strong drink. Thus you have learned that I, Hashem, am your God."
The verb "I have led you" in the passage just quoted could also be read "I have walked with you through forty years of wilderness." My parents have, for forty years, created a home in which the shechinah, the Divine presence, was welcome. They established a bayit ne'eman b'Yisrael, a house of faith in Israel. Through the wilderness that is life, through the oases of happy occasions and the brambles of difficult times, they have walked together and set a standard of shared strength which is a model to Heather and me.
May they continue to grow from strength to strength.
I don't like superstition mixed in with my religion. I'm a rationalist. So I was pleased by the explanation given by the rabbi at my parents' shul: "This aliyah contains a harsh admonition, and we don't want anyone to think that the reader means it personally against the oleh, so the person getting the aliyah should be someone that everyone knows the reader likes and respects."
I also find it interesting that for a tradition that borders on obsessive when it comes to getting the words right (there are always two people standing on the sides of the person reading the Torah, and in the event of a mistake the reader must back up and re-read) in this case the tradition demands that one mis-read two words. They are considered so distressing that in the public reading of the tochacha they are substituted by euphemisms.
On the other hand, the reading ends with a beautiful passage that was made all the more resonant by the occasion. "Until today, God did not grant you a mind to understand, nor eyes to see, nor ears to hear: I have led you for forty years through the wilderness. The clothes on your back did not tatter, nor did the sandals on your feet; you ate not bread nor drank wine nor strong drink. Thus you have learned that I, Hashem, am your God."
The verb "I have led you" in the passage just quoted could also be read "I have walked with you through forty years of wilderness." My parents have, for forty years, created a home in which the shechinah, the Divine presence, was welcome. They established a bayit ne'eman b'Yisrael, a house of faith in Israel. Through the wilderness that is life, through the oases of happy occasions and the brambles of difficult times, they have walked together and set a standard of shared strength which is a model to Heather and me.
May they continue to grow from strength to strength.