USCJ Review - Fall 2006
The Authentic Triennial Cycle: A Better Way to Read Torah?
Conservative and Orthodox Jews who attend shul at least weekly hear the Torah read in Hebrew -- a language that very few of them speak or understand.
Most scholars, however, agree that the Torah, like all ancient literature, was created as an oral work. The authors of ancient literature, whether they were Greek, Roman, or Jewish, assumed that their books would be read aloud, even the reader were reading only to himself. The literature therefore was structured differently than the literature of today; the authors thought of themselves as speaking through the written word. To their ears, they were talking, not writing. That's why Everett Fox's modern translation of the Bible, meant to be read aloud, sounds unlike those found in more conventional chumashim - the Etz Hayim, perhaps, or Artscroll's version.
It was in recognition of the principle that the Torah is to be understood orally, by hearing it, rather than visually, by reading it, that Maimonides declared:
From the moment the reader begins to read the Torah it is forbidden even to talk about some matter of law; rather all must listen, and be quiet and pay attention to what he reads, as it is written: (Nehemia 8:3) "and the ears of all the people were attentive to the book of the Torah" (Mishneh Torah, Tefillah, 12,9)
Thus in Nefesh Harav, written in memory of Rabbi Yosef Dov Halevi Soloveitchik by his student Rabbi Herschel Shechter, we find:
And this is also the essence of reading the Torah in public - it is the commandment of public study of the Torah, and is not dependent on the intent of the reader to fulfill the obligation for the congregation of listeners, but on their listening to the words of the Torah and understanding them.
This presents a dilemma for the modern American Jew, who likely was taught to pronounce Hebrew words but probably learned the meaning of only a few basic prayers. Many American Jews were never taught much Hebrew. We never learned enough to be able to understand a Hebrew conversation or a rapidly chanted Torah reading. Many of us are not fluent in Hebrew, and fluency is required for an understanding of the spoken Torah.
Thus we find that in most American synagogues the Torah service is the least appealing part of a service, the least likely to keep a congregation's interest. In many synagogues there is a problem with decorum, which is understandable because of the high level of boredom. Clearly, some listeners attempt to follow the reading with the English translation in the chumash. This can be a challenging process because an entirely different language is being chanted; it's like trying to read a newspaper with a television or radio blaring in the background. And focusing on the important but ancient concepts in the Torah demands a great deal of concentration, particularly when the reader cannot coordinate the written English text with the spoken Hebrew. The English-speaking reader in the pews often is reading a different paragraph or a different page from the Hebrew-speaking reader on the bimah, a fact of which he or she is reminded before each aliyah when a new page and line number are announced.
We also often see English-speaking readers diligently following the Hebrew in their chumash with a finger, connecting the words spoken from the bimah with the Hebrew letters they were taught as children. They may not understand these words at all, but they are satisfying themselves that they are fulfilling their obligation to listen to the Torah. They never realize that actually they are dishonoring the Torah by engaging in this empty ritual. For the Torah was given to us for our understanding; it links us to generations past and future because of its words and nothing else. If God had intended the Torah to be merely a ceremonial object, God would not have bothered writing it. A Torah need not be read aloud if it is not to be understood orally; actually, there is no need for the words at all. Such a Torah can be two scrolls of blank parchment, wrapped in a cloth covering and ornaments, removed from the aaron kodesh with great ceremony and paraded about the synagogue. Pretending to understand the Torah by following Hebrew letters that make no sense whatsoever makes the Torah into a mere totem.
In many synagogues Torah readers do not even face the congregation, thus increasing the sense of alienation of the non-Hebrew-speaking listener. The reading table instead faces east, in the direction of prayer, as if the reader believes that God wishes his own Torah to be read to him. In one Orthodox synagogue I attended for a friend's son's bar mitzvah, the congregation had a view of the backs of the reader, the gabbai, and the oleh, all some distance away. The reader's unamplified voice, lost against the front wall of the synagogue, often was interrupted as the rabbi rapped on the podium, demanding decorum. It was obvious that this congregation and its rabbi somehow believe that the Torah service is a form of prayer, one in which only those on the bimah participate.
This is an example of how, seriously and in all innocence, we can continue to perform a religious ceremony in our synagogues for generations without considering why we are supposed to be doing it. We do it just because it feels holy. The original purpose has been forgotten. Thus it is with most American Jews. We would agree that listening to the Torah being read feels holy, but we do not understand that this was not its Author's intention.
This is an example of how, seriously and in all innocence, we can continue to perform a religious ceremony in our synagogues for generations without considering why we are supposed to be doing it. We do it just because it feels holy. The original purpose has been forgotten. Thus it is with most American Jews. We would agree that listening to the Torah being read feels holy, but we do not understand that this was not its Author's intention.
It was for this reason that the ancient practice of providing two translations, in the form of two official targumim, was approved in the Babylonian Talmud. The Targum Onkelos is a written translation of the Torah into Aramaic. It was recited by heart, alternating with the Hebrew as a verse-by verse translation, during the Torah reading. The Targum Jonathan (ben Uzziel) is a translation of the haftarah into Aramaic, and it was recited after every third verse. Yemenite Jews still use these targumim, but because Aramaic is now spoken only in one remote isolated community the rest of us have abandoned them.
Although the practice of translating the Torah and Haftarah aloud into our vernacular -- English -- as those texts are chanted at services could be instituted now, many congregations would be opposed to doing so unless the rest of the Torah service were shortened. They simply don't want to prolong the services. More traditional Jews, who do not object to longer services, would object to any addition of spoken English to their liturgy. They would see it as too similar to Reform or even Christian services. All these feelings have to be respected. Religious practices are a combination of heart and mind; most of us are resistant to change in religious matters and thus for many congregations what I am proposing here is simply unsuitable. And not all parts of the Torah lend themselves to a spoken translation. Some parts - the elaborate rites of sacrifice in Leviticus, for example - are not that interesting, and the objective is to make the Torah service more alive and relevant to the now-uninvolved listener.
This is why the triennial cycle can help. When the Torah is read according to the annual cycle, it is divided into 54 parshiot, one for each week of the Jewish year. On the triennial cycle, it is divided into 141, 154 or 167 parshiot, in accordance with the practice in ancient Israel.
In 1517 Daniel Bomberg, a Christian from Antwerp, published the first Bible with rabbinic commentary. It was divided into 154 parshiot, and 154 is now considered to be the most historically accurate number. This results in a weekly Torah reading approximately one third as long as in the annual cycle. It takes about three years to read the entire Torah.
In his study Is There An Authentic Triennial Cycle of Torah Readings?, Rabbi Lionel E. Moses says that the Jews of ancient Israel preferred triennial readings not only because a full reading made the service too long, but also because of the length of the sermon that by then accompanied the reading.
Since the ostensible purpose of reading the Torah in the first place was pedagogic and since currently the purpose of the sermon ideally should be to teach Torah and make its message more understandable, there seems to be additional justification for abbreviation of the formal reading of the Torah to allow ample time for its amplification. Moreover, wearying the congregation by prolonging the service may take away from the aesthetic appeal of the service and thereby discourage people from participating regularly in public worship.
According to Rabbi Jerome Epstein, Executive Vice President of the United Synagogue of Conservative Judaism, two-thirds of Conservative synagogues in the United States now use a modified form of the triennial system, although some have abandoned it because this system involves skipping from year to year to finish each parasha. Thus, for example, it takes three years to finish the story of the Exodus. This system obviously fails to comply with the halachic requirement that the verses of the Torah be read in consecutive order. It seems appropriate to these congregations, however, because they are reading at least some - if only one third - of the same parasha that all other synagogues read that week.
But won't a congregation on the original triennial cycle be out of step with the rest of the Jewish world? That argument seems compelling at first, but becomes far less convincing when you consider that congregations that adopt this practice will do so because they recognize that many of their members are not listening to the reading anyway, and that they ought to read shorter sections every week without skipping any verses. Congregations whose members in general do not understand the parasha as it is being read aloud are in effect skipping all the verses, and like those who skip only two-thirds of the verses each week cannot truthfully be said to be in step with the rest of the Jewish world anyway.
The overwhelming advantages of the original triennial system for today's congregation are precisely the same are those Rabbi Moses said the Jews of ancient Israel enjoyed. The cycle shortens the Torah service and frees the time for additional teaching. That time can also be used by the meturgeman, or translator, even if only for the more significant verses. For these reasons, the triennial cycle can make services more inviting to the congregation, increase interest in the Torah reading, and advance the study of Torah, arguably the central and most important part of the synagogue service.
Richard Rogovin lives in Columbus, Ohio, where he and his wife belong to Congregation Agudas Achim, a 150-year-old formerly Orthodox synagogue that joined United Synagogue three years ago. Richard has been a business attorney for 40 years. and has written mostly legal articles until this, his first article on a Jewish subject. Agudas Achim has not yet adopted the triennial cycle, but recently the Torah reader began facing the congregation.
