Behar-Bechukotai: The Loudest Still, Small Voice

This week, we have returned back to a section of the Torah known as the 'Tochecha.' It's basically a long tirade in which God elaborates on all the horrible things that will happen if we transgress God's  

commandments. I guess it's what Frank Costanza, from 'Seinfeld,' might call 'The Airing of Grievances.' Though in Seinfeld the Costanzas were primarily dealing with past offenses, whereas God is warning us against possible future transgressions, and just refreshing our memory as to how bad things can get if we mess up. It's a tough part of the Bible to have to listen to every year, so the rabbis tried to come up with a way of making it less painful... or did they?

You see, when we get to the Tochecha, Leviticus, 26:14-45, the Torah reader is meant to chant this section in a softer - yet speedier - tone. Just blow through it quickly and quietly, and maybe no one will even notice we did it. The Etz Hayim

Torah Commentary tells us: "In many synagogues, it is customary to read the Tokhehah [sic] in an undertone, perhaps because its vision of disaster is so frightening." While I understand the reasoning behind this, it also always bothered me. Aren't we supposed to hear this? Sure, no one likes the idea of lengthy punishments and calamities, but that is precisely why we DO need to hear it! We should listen carefully, so that we don't make the mistakes and take ourselves down that evil path. Wouldn't we be better off reading it loud and clear, so we'd know exactly what to watch out for, and what to avoid?

And that's where the genius of the rabbis kicks in. By reading it softly and quietly, people often do take notice. They stop, they pay

attention, and they actually listen in silence, because of the unique way the Torah reader is chanting this section. The rabbis manage to BOTH indicate how unpleasant the reading is AND get people to listen carefully and pay special attention! Once again, I am impressed by the rabbinic brilliance that manages to kill two birds with one style.

In fact, there's even something else we can learn from this same concept. In the First Book of Kings, chapter 19, verses 11-12, Elijah the Prophet encounters God. The Bible tells us, "the Lord passed by

[Elijah]. There was a great and mighty wind, splitting mountains and shattering rocks by the power of the Lord; but the Lord was not in the wind. After the wind - an earthquake; but the Lord was not in the earthquake. After the earthquake - fire; but the Lord was not in the fire. And after the fire - a still, small voice." Sometimes we make the mistake of thinking that more - not less - is more. Everything is about a lot of pomp and circumstance (which reminds me: Congratulations, Class of 2012!!). Rather, we can actually convey great power and sincerity by speaking softly. When we don't try to overpower others or yell over a crowd, but instead use confidence, poise, and control to express meaning, we can often achieve so much more. 

Even when it comes to the Tochecha, beating people over the head with it won't work. People shut off, they tune out, and they ignore you. But if you lower your voice and just use your tone to express

urgency, people might actually listen. Now here's the really hard part. The Tochecha isn't just a section of this week's Torah portion. It's feedback we try to give one another, it's constructive criticism that's hard to hear, and it's all the tough conversations we need to have with family members, friends, and coworkers. It's all Tochecha, and it's all vitally important... if we're willing to stop and listen to the power and holiness of these softly spoken words.

Photos in this blog post:

1. CC image courtesy of iBjorn on Flickr

2. CC image courtesy of Allio on Flickr

 

3. CC image courtesy of Senor Codo on Flickr

4. CC image courtesy of NazarethCollege on Flickr  

5. CC image courtesy of ky_olsen on Flickr