This week, as we read parashat Nitzavim, we encounter one of the most iconic, powerful, and radical verses in all of the Torah. It is the line that leads to “majority rule” in Talmud. It is the line that takes Jewish law and practice out of the hands of God and places it, squarely, in the mouths and hearts of the people. “It is not in the heavens.”
Deuteronomy 30:11-14
“Surely, this Instruction (mitzvah) which I enjoin upon you this day is not too baffling for you, nor is it beyond reach.
It is not in the heavens, that you should say, “Who among us can go up to the heavens and get it for us and impart it to us, that we may observe it?”
Neither is it beyond the sea, that you should say, “Who among us can cross to the other side of the sea and get it for us and impart it to us, that we may observe it?”
No, the thing is very close to you, in your mouth and in your heart, to observe it.”
What does this last line mean? In my mouth? Really?!
Medieval French Torah commentator, Rashi, says that this has to do with how Torah is transmitted: “BUT [THE WORD] IS [VERY] NEAR UNTO YOU — the Torah has been given to you in writing and orally.”
Medieval Sephardi Torah commentator, Ibn Ezra, says this has to do with where the commandments are acted out: “IN THY MOUTH, AND IN THY HEART. For the heart is the core of the commandments. Some commandments require the uttering of statements which serve to reinforce the heart. Others consist of deeds so that a person will utter the required statements.”
So Torah is in our mouths because that is how we teach it and learn it. Torah is in our mouths because sometimes we have to use our mouths to do the commandments, like say the shema.
NOTE: I love Ibn Ezra’s line: “The heart is the core of the commandments.” Someone should write a piece about that and share it with me!
But for some reason I’m struck by Torah in our mouths. I’m thinking about how Torah becomes ours the moment we speak it. I’m thinking about how my dad (who has been living with Lewy Body Dementia for the last 10+ years) is losing his ability to speak. Is Torah in his mouth?
When we read a passage of Torah out loud, we can’t help but emphasize certain parts, or take breaks when we need a breath, or stumble over words that are unfamiliar. And even with our incredible musical technology called “trope,” which uniforms the way we chant the Hebrew, each of our voices is different – not to mention our voices change with age and depending on what we did the night before. And still, there are multiple versions of trope that can be applied. When Torah is in our mouths, it can’t help but be unique.
Think about it this way. Every time we read or chant Torah we are doing a cover version of it. Like, the original performance was at Mt. Sinai (what a show it must have been!) But since then, we have been in an infinite after party, trying to keep the music alive. And every time we play the album, our performance is influenced by the individual performer (their preferences, ideas, generation, strengths, training, etc…), as well as the cultural zeitgeist. Some people create punk rock Torah covers, others are more classical, trying to get back to that original show.
Beyond speaking, anytime we think of Torah or hear Torah or simply copy a piece of text in our own hand writing, that too makes it ours and new. From whom would we have copied the text? Another scribe, perhaps?! If we read it to ourselves or experience the text in any way, the voice inside of our heads makes decisions about how it will sound and what will stand out. Our mind takes in the information and makes sense of it only in the way our unique minds can. In our imaginations we perform a cover show. Torah in our mouths means Torah in our expression.
When we read Torah, often we do so to consciously interpret its content – to consider how we want to apply Jewish tradition to today. However, if Torah is in our mouths, it is not so much that our goal should be to interpret Torah, but rather that in every single interaction with it, whether fleeting or hunkered down, we can only interpret Torah.
Is this anything more than a classic conversation about form and content? Maybe not. But so often we focus on the content (what does Torah mean!) and forget the form all together, as if the words are just vessels for value and aren’t themselves sacred.
What would it be like to read Torah just to notice how it sounds? To enjoy and marvel at yet another cover. What if we wrote out text simply to be in awe of how many times these words have been copied by our community. And how each time is different.