TRADITION Questions: The Torah Earworm
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What is it?
In thirty seconds, the song is over. You go on with your day. But the song’s repetitive melody sticks to your brain like syrup. You hear it while brushing your teeth. As you put your head on the pillow. When it’s finally worked its way out of your brain and you’ve started to forget, it reappears. An earworm (a form of involuntary musical imagery) is the phenomenon when a memorable piece of music occupies a person’s mind long after it stops playing. Earworms are one type of involuntary cognition. A similar form of involuntary cognition – which we might term a “Torah worm” – takes place at irregular intervals during public Torah reading. At seemingly random points in the yearly public reading, community members join the ba’al keria in singing a phrase from the Torah reading. These eruptions of communal chorus can surprise the uninitiated (and those with certain strict sensitivities to halakha). The outbursts emerge seemingly involuntarily from something within the micro-culture of a corner of Jewish life – namely those who regularly participate in communal Torah reading.
These moments typically take place in the first aliya, which we read at least four times each year, for example, the word “katonti” (in Parashat Vayishlah, Gen. 11:11) and “hashkifa” (Deut. 26:15 in this week’s Ki Tavo). It can also emerge in sections that are repeated over the course of a few days, such as the maftir read throughout Passover (ka-eleh). Such “chorus” moments also appear when the same phrase concludes an aliya multiple times – as is the case with lo tevashel gedi bahalev imo (as it does inin Mishpatim, Ki Tissa, and Re’eh).
The Torah texts which merit these “choral” flourishes have certain common attributes. They often have cantillation with special musical attributes – such as the high notes of the azla geiresh or the aliya ending. The narrative context is also important. Such moments can be found when the Torah quotes a character speaking a phrase rich with meaning – both in the context of the story and by extension to Jews through history who live their own lives by being immersed in the Torah.
Why does it matter?
While not explicitly prohibited, such outbursts are not halackicly required and – because of this discretionary quality – might conflict with strict decorum. R. Yisrael Meir Kagan (Mishna Berura 124:16) criticizes those who sing with the shaliah tzibbur in the repetition of the amida as engaging in yuhara (haughtiness) or kalut rosh (frivolity). R. Chaim Mordekhai Margulies (Sha’arei Teshuva 582:7) permits singing along with the prayer leader only when “one feels that it will stimulate concentration upon God.”
In the context of Torah reading, individual outbursts would meet with similar criticism both from these sages and from most communities today. Yet, widely popularized and normalized “choral” moments, if done without any ill intent, would avoid most of these concerns. Yet, this occasional yet seemingly well-established practice (of not “official” minhag) might reflect the achievement of a certain communal concentration. The Torah worm shows that a community is immersed in the reading – they are not simply listening but are participating and responding. The existence of these rare Torah worms reflects the truly communal character of public Torah readings.
The fact that Torah worms often take place at key moments in the narrative – specifically those when a character is expressing a heightened religious sentiment – allows Jews through history to join with Jacob as he awakens from his dream and the farmer who recites this week’s reading of vidui ma’aserot.: “Look down (hashkifa) from Your holy dwelling, from the heavens, and bless Your people Israel, and the land which You have given to us, as You swore to our forefathers a land flowing with milk and honey.” Like our ancestors, we feel small before God’s kindness and we are dependent upon God’s bounty of physical blessing, and we instinctively join our voices to the song.
What questions remain?
What determines whether a given person will join in these Torah worm moments? Is it a function of familiarity with the Torah worm text? Is it a function of the person’s sensitivity to music? Are some people more inhibited in shul than others?
When did Torah worms first enter communal life? Does their presence in modern times connect to popular music and its place within society? Are communities that are more connected to music culture more likely to incubate Torah worms?
Does the Torah worm phenomenon ebb and flow within communal life? What factors make a Torah worm more or less popular within a given community or within the broader micro-culture of Jews who regularly attend Torah reading?
Do these phrases “leave the synagogue” and gain importance in other aspects of Jewish life like its philosophy, music, and culture?
Chaim Strauchler, rabbi of Rinat Yisrael in Teaneck, is an Associate Editor of TRADITION.