A New Low: Reading a Parsha Sheet During Shemoneh Esrei
(Written with ChatGPT to save energy. Instead it took longer.)
It’s often printed in sober type on the parsha sheet: “Please do not read during Krias Hatorah or Chazaras Hashatz.” Good. Overdue, perhaps.
But this past month I saw something that made my stomach turn. A few individuals, parsha sheet open, were reading it during their own private Shemoneh Esrei. Not kaddish. Not while waiting for someone else to finish Shemoneh Esrei. Reading while moving their lips to something else.
Do I need to even explain why this is ridiculous? “אפילו נחש כרוך על עקבו, etc.”
I get it. You’re booored. Bava Basra 164b: אמר רב עמרם אמר רב, שלש עבירות אין אדם ניצול מהן בכל יום הרהור עבירה ועיון תפלה ולשון הרע.
The sheet caught your eye. Just a glance, you tell yourself — the picture, the headline. It’s Divrei Torah, right? Then the first paragraph. Then you’re skimming. But not reading, of course! Your lips are still moving in davening (yes, you checked).
If you cannot focus, then fail inwardly. Stare at the wall. Count the tiles. Slow down. Wrestle with your thoughts like a Jew does. You might even win a few words with focus. Dream, if you must — do not recruit props. And do not train the room to lower expectations.
Once you reach for a physical aid, you have crossed a line. You are no longer losing a battle with yourself; you are staging a public demonstration of disengagement. (Chillul Hashem?)
Now, I don’t know if this even deserves an article. Surely there aren’t too many people going so far (if they make this a habit, words fail). Except, this reminds me of a related complaint one hears with weary regularity.
Some people are deeply exercised by Jews who exercise: shuckle, clap, or raise their voices (where permitted). “It disturbs me,” they complain. The guy can’t sing. He’s drowning out the Chazan. He’s unnerving the Shabbos Goy. And poskim speak about not turning the place into a marketplace; decorum and limits. And perhaps against clapping on Shabbos (אכמ”ל).
My answer is always the same: Right — it disturbs you. Let it disturb you!
What exactly is being disturbed? Your foreign thoughts. The mental rehearsal of what you should have said to your wife. Your list of post-davening phone calls.
Meanwhile, the fellow shaking the whole bench or crying out, sounding like a deer, is more or less using the shul for what it was built (if the donors thought it through). He is engaged, embodied. They have a “chiyuv” (precedence), so to speak. Call it ברשות קעביד. Or, to use the most apt expression (for one who passes within the Dalet Amot of a person davening Shemoneh Esrei): “אתה בא בגבולו” — you are entering his domain, and not the other way around. If someone else’s audible avodah unsettles your private reverie, well then.
These prosecuting angels start out all hot under the collar, and then… nothing more. You wouldn’t believe how quickly the topic changes. For some reason, I rarely ever hear a complaint from those who do daven well, albeit quietly, and might have a perfect right to protest against the “Amen Yehei shmei rabba” בכל כחו according to Tosafos. Hmm…
Call for our readers’ help: How do I get the above published in a popular parsha sheet…?