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Behukkotai

Leviticus 25:30-27:34

Jeremiah 16:19-17:14

In the course of the yearly cycle, we publicly read every word of the Torah. Every word. Even the most disturbing ones. The Torah reader looks into the parchment columns and calls out, in a clear and distinct voice, words that in normal, polite conversation we would make every effort not to say out loud.

It all seems natural and acceptable, as long as one thinks of the reading as a performance. When one becomes aware of the person saying the words, listening can feel extremely uncomfortable.

This week's Torah reading contains a passage called "the warning," some of the most discomforting sentences in the entire Five Books.

"If you do not listen to me, if you do not do my commandments, if you reject my statutes and my judgments disgust your souls…" (Leviticus 26:14-15), then stage after stage of horrifying consequences follow.

"I shall send the animals of the field among you, and they shall make you bereaved parents, they shall cut off your cattle, they shall diminish you, your ways shall become desolate" (26:22), "I shall send the plague among you, and deliver you into the hands of your enemy" (26:25), "you shall eat the flesh of your sons, and the flesh of your daughters shall you eat" (26:29), "your land shall be desolate and your cities shall be ruins" (26:23).

Listening to this portion read from the Torah, a person could easily have upsetting thoughts, wondering who is included in the word "you."

On any Shabbat in ancient times, each of the seven men called to the Torah recited a blessing, read his section and recited another blessing. Later, most Jewish communities appointed an expert reader — for the Torah scroll has no vowels and no musical notes, so it takes some expertise to chant accurately. To accept an aliyah (to be called to the Torah) became a largely symbolic honor; one simply recited the blessings and stood by while the expert read or perhaps one chanted along in a low voice. But it eventually occurred to people to question the honor of standing beside the reader for the terrible verses of the warning.

"Someone who hates the representative of the community," meaning the Torah reader, "should not accept an aliyah to the Torah when he reads the warnings." So rules the Shulchan Arukh (Orah Hayyim 23:19). Standing by as your enemy reads the terrible verses would look too much like accepting your enemy's curse. The onlookers could not help wondering if the Torah reader meant to curse this individual.

In some communities, no one wanted the honor at all. Perhaps they feared that the terrible warnings would take effect on the honoree. Rabbi Yosef ben Moshe, in 15th-century Germany, records that his teacher, Rabbi Israel Isserlein, would ask a special blessing for the person who took this aliyah. Rabbi Moshe Isserles, in 16th-century Poland, records that the gabbai would, instead of calling someone to the Torah by name, call "anyone who wants to come up" (Orah Hayyim 428:6).

According to medieval authorities, in some communities the rabbi would customarily accept the crucial aliyah himself, perhaps to avoid insulting any congregant, or perhaps because we expect the rabbi to overcome any superstitious feelings. In other communities the Torah reader would take this aliyah. And some communities would list accepting this aliyah as a responsibility of the Shamash, the paid synagogue caretaker (Maharil, reported in Mishnah Berurah 428, note 17).

For all that, in some communities, no one took the frightening aliyah, not even community leaders, not even for a special blessing. The Torah reader would just read the passage, without anyone saying the blessings before and after. Rabbinic decisors vigorously protested against this as an erroneous practice, but apparently it cropped up again and again.

Taking a leadership role in broadcasting this warning discomforted our ancestors. Obviously, we all feel more comfortable giving and accepting blessings rather than warnings. But sometimes we have to have the courage to face the warnings.