כרמים תטע ועבדת, ויין לא תשתה ולא תאגר כי תאכלנו התלעת
Though you plant vineyards and work them, you shall not drink wine nor store because the worm shall eat them.
The Custom of Not Calling the בעל קורא for his twice annual Aliyah
There is a twice-a-year custom in which during the reading of the Torah, the בעל קורא steps up and appropriates an Aliyah for himself. These are during both of the תוכחות in Parshas בחקתי and כי תבא. The common misconception about this practice is that this custom is rooted purely in superstition and personal fear – that standing at the Bimah while horrific curses are chanted brings bad luck, invites an עין הרע (evil eye), or functions as a literal, mystical curse upon the individual receiving the Aliyah.
In this popular (but misguided) view, the custom is treated as a superstitious dodge: since nobody wants to volunteer to be cursed, the Ba’al Koreh (who is already up there) or the Gabbai is forced to take the hit by default.
In the Ear of the Beholder
However, considering the verses read then as complete curses is incorrect, and perhaps even juvenile. There is a story related about the Mittler Rebbe (R’ Dovber) that illustrates this point.
As the story goes, the young Mittler Rebbe (Rabbi Dovber) was in shul while his father, the Alter Rebbe, was away (often cited as when he was imprisoned in Petersburg, though some versions say he was simply traveling). Another Ba’al Koreh stepped up to read the תוכחה of כי תבא. Hearing the curses, the child Dovber was so overcome with terror and anguish that he fainted. In fact, this affected him so deeply that the doctors were concerned about his ability to fast on the following Yom Kippur.
When he was revived, people asked him, “But you hear this Parsha every year! Why did you faint this time?”
His response was: “When my father reads, one does not hear curses.” (In some versions: “I hear only blessings.”)
The verses absolutely contain extreme curses, the kind that leave the nations of the world astonished as to what the Jewish people experience. But hidden within those same verses are blessings which can be heard when “Father” reads them.
Accordingly, who would not want that Aliyah? Instead, the actual development of this practice is rooted in Halaĉic mechanics and communal psychology, not superstition.
The Structural Law (The Talmudic Root)
The foundation of this custom comes from the Gemara[i], which establishes a rule for these specific sections: אין מפסיקין בקללות – We do not interrupt the curses.
Ezra the Scribe enacted that the rebuke must be read as one continuous, unbroken unit. If you call a congregant up and they suddenly feel faint, lose their place, or need to stop, you risk breaking the section. Having the expert Ba’al Koreh take the Aliyah guarantees the structural integrity of the reading from start to finish.
The Communal Psychology (The Halaĉic Evolution)
If the only rule was “don’t interrupt,” the Gabbai could still simply call someone up by name for one long Aliyah[1]. The reason nobody is called by name was codified later by the Rama[ii]. It is designed to protect human dignity.
If a specific congregant is called up by name to stand for the תוכחה, it creates the optics of a public indictment – as if the community is directing the rebuke at that specific individual, effectively shaming them. By having the Ba’al Koreh or Gabbai take it unprompted and unnamed, the rebuke remains directed at the collective. It is a communal warning, not a personal one.
However, we cannot accept this as a complete answer since we are left with several unanswered questions:
- There are other sections in the Torah in which curses are read. For example, in the Aliyah immediately preceding this one. During those Aliyos, no consideration is given to the idea that the person called up could be considered the individual recipient of those curses.
- The entire Song of האזינו is the ultimate תוכחה. Again, no concern is given to how someone who gets called up for those Aliyos might feel.
- Furthermore, what about the feelings of the בעל קורא – he’s standing there on behalf of the congregation, and as a reward, he gets called up to this Aliyah. And it is not even mitigated by a requirement to also call him up for some of the Aliyos in which various blessings are recited.
The Suspension of the Proxy ברכה System
To understand the true origin of the custom, we have to look at the Halaĉic mechanics of the Torah reading.
Phase 1: The Baseline Ordinances (Moshe and Ezra)
The framework for public reading is ancient. The Gemara[iii] attributes the foundational decree to Moshe, who established that the Torah must be read on Shabbos, as well as the second and fifth days of the week. The rationale was deeply spiritual but highly practical: water represents Torah, and just as a person cannot physically survive three (3) days without water, the community’s spiritual vitality cannot endure three (3) days without interacting with the text.
Centuries later, Ezra the Scribe expanded this ordinance. He mandated the reading at Minĉa on Shabbos (for shopkeepers who couldn’t attend on weekdays) and formalized the exact number of Aliyot (three on weekdays, seven on Shabbos).
Phase 2: The Original Democratic Model
In the Talmudic era, the system was democratic: the person who got the Aliyah read the text themselves.
There was no professional Ba’al Koreh reading for the congregation. If the Gabbai called you up, you walked to the Bimah, recited the ברכה and read your section directly from the un-voweled, un-cantillated parchment. This system operated on the assumption of widespread, high-level Hebrew literacy.
Phase 3: The Crisis of Literacy and Shame
As the Jewish diaspora expanded and the colloquial language shifted heavily to Aramaic (and later Arabic and European languages), functional mastery of Biblical Hebrew plummeted. Reading from a Torah scroll requires memorizing exact vowels and טראף (cantillation marks)—a highly specialized skill.
Tosafos[iv] explicitly documents the ensuing crisis. Congregants who could not read the text were being publicly shamed when called up. Even worse, out of intense embarrassment, unlettered Jews simply stopped coming to the Shul altogether when the Torah was read. The very institution designed to unify the community around the text was instead fracturing it along class and educational lines.
Phase 4: The Halaĉic Pivot (The Proxy System)
Faced with a system that was inadvertently humiliating the masses, the Sages initiated a structural overhaul.
They instituted the role of the מקריא – the prompter/reader, which eventually solidified into the Ba’al Koreh. Instead of the Oleh reading for himself, one highly trained expert would read on behalf of everyone.
Halaĉically, this massive shift relied on the principle of שומע כעונה – hearing is equivalent to responding. The Oleh makes the ברכה, rendering him the legal “owner” of the Aliyah, but he appoints the Ba’al Koreh as his proxy to execute the actual reading.
Tosafos notes that this was done specifically so that “neither the one who knows how to read, nor the one who does not know, will be embarrassed.” By standardizing the process so that no one reads for themselves – not even the greatest scholar in the room – the stigma of ignorance was completely eradicated.
Phase 5: The “Phantom” Reader (The Vestige)
The Shulĉan Aruĉ[v] locks this transition into modern practice, but it leaves behind one fascinating vestige of the original system.
When a person is called up today, Halaĉa dictates that they should read along silently, word for word, with the Ba’al Koreh. They must ensure their lips are moving, but their voice must not be loud enough to drown out the reader.
In this silent reading, the Oleh is acting as a “phantom reader.” It is the Halaĉic echo of the ancient system where every man read his own portion – now perfectly insulated by the Ba’al Koreh so that his would-be mistakes are never heard by the community.
When viewed through this historical lens, the Ba’al Koreh is not just a functionary with a good voice and memory. The role was created as a permanent, institutional shield to protect the vulnerable from public shame.
Normally, the system operates on a bifurcated model of proxy. The congregant called up recites the ברכה, acting as a representative for the congregation. The professional reader performs the actual reading. The Oleh’s ברכה covers the reader’s action, and the reader’s action fulfills the obligation for the Oleh.
However [based on Tractate Sofrim[vi]], both instances of the תוכחה are built-in exceptions to this proxy system. The one reading it is the one who recites the ברכה both before and after.
Preventing the “Embarrassment”
This Halaĉic anomaly creates a practical problem. If the Gabbai calls up a standard congregant for the תוכחה, that congregant would not just be required to say the ברכה – they would be Halaĉically forced to read the un-voweled Torah scroll themselves, flawlessly, to fulfill the unified requirement of Tractate Sofrim.
Since the vast majority of congregants do not possess the highly technical skill to read directly from the scroll, calling them up would result in public humiliation.
Therefore, the custom of not calling anyone up by name is absolutely about protecting human dignity – but not the dignity of being associated with a curse. It is about protecting the congregant from the embarrassment of public illiteracy.
To solve this, the Ba’al Koreh – the only person theorized to be functionally capable of fulfilling both the ברכה and the reading simultaneously – simply appropriates the Aliyah. By taking it without permission or a formal call-up, he bypasses the proxy system entirely and neutralizes the risk of embarrassing the congregation [that no one among the congregation can read].
Decoding the Vineyard: The Sin of Hoarding
When the Ba’al Koreh steps up to read, he faces a choice: will he transmit the curses, or, like the Alter Rebbe, reveal the blessings hidden within? [At least] one specific verse in the תוכחה provides the lesson needed for this dynamic:
- כרמים תטע ועבדת, ויין לא תשתה ולא תאגר כי תאכלנו התלעת – Though you plant vineyards and work them, you shall not drink wine nor store because the worm shall eat them.
Midrashically, the concept of a vineyard is symbolic of an academy or Yeshiva (e.g. כרם ביבנה), a place where Torah is not only developed but also disseminated. One of the unique things about planting a vineyard is the method in which the vineyard is encouraged to grow. Unlike standard trees, which require planting entirely new seeds and saplings to expand the orchard, a vineyard is often planted by being מבריך the vine. Taking the existing vines, bending them into the earth, from which a ‘new’ vine grows, completely connected to the old vines, both nurturing each other. “Planting a vineyard” thus represents the intense cultivation of Torah knowledge.
The fulcrum of the verse lies in the word תֶאֱגֹר – gather or store. As the Gemara[vii] notes, the root Aleph-Gimmel-Resh (אגר) is applied to intellectual isolationism – where a judge keeps his rulings to himself. The Torah warns against the one who “hoards his Torah”, keeping his insights entirely to himself rather than teaching others.
Therefore, the verse is no longer talking about grapes. It is addressing the elite scholar: You will plant vineyards (cultivate deep Torah wisdom) and work them… but you will not drink the wine – you will remain unaffected by the Torah you have worked on, and the final clause can be read as a command; ולא תאגר – and Do not hoard it.
The Alienation of the Hoarder
What is the consequence of this intellectual hoarding?
The Yerushalmi[viii] notes a statement by Rabbi Y’oda ben Pazi regarding the process of writing down the Torah[2]. He quotes the verse[ix] אכתוב לו רבו תורתי, במו זר יחשבו – I write for them the great things about my Torah; it is considered like a stranger. Rashi on the verse links this directly to the rebukes. The people were unfamiliar with the greatness inherent in Torah (because they had not been properly taught) and accordingly, the rebukes were ‘strange’ [unexpected] to them.
When a scholar treats Torah as private property to be hoarded, it stagnates for himself and for others. It ceases to be a living, communal truth and becomes alien, foreign, and strange. The rebuke here is that Torah that is isolated and withheld from the community fundamentally loses its spiritual vitality. The scholar becomes a stranger to the very wisdom they cultivated.
The Dichotomy of the Worm (תולעת)
This brings us to the consequence stated in the verse כי תאכלם התולעת – for the worm will eat them.
The Pardes Rimonim[x] notes that the Torah contains references to two types of worms. There is the worm of evil, which is not merely a physical pest; it represents the decomposition associated with death. But there is also the ‘worm’ of holiness, represented by the material תולעת שני which was an integral part of the building of the Mishkan. Thus, תולעת represents a duality of spiritual existence.
- The Worm of Destruction: When Torah is hoarded, it is subjected to the first type of worm – the one associated with death, decay, and rotting bodies. Unshared wisdom ferments into arrogance and spiritual rot. It is consumed by the ego of the hoarder.
- The Worm of Holiness: Conversely, the expansion and transmission of Torah requires the second type of worm: the תולעת יעקב,[xi] and the radical humility of ואנכי תולעת ולא איש – and I am a worm and not a man.[xii]
The Synthesis: A Warning to the Elite
Put together, the verse in the תוכחה reads as a warning regarding the mechanics of transmitting Torah: If you cultivate immense Torah knowledge (the vineyard), but you treat it as an intellectual monopoly to be hoarded, you will never taste the true spiritual fulfillment of that wisdom (drinking the wine). Instead of expanding the Torah through the holy humility of תולעת יעקב – the self-nullification required to patiently teach others – your hoarded Torah will be consumed by the worm of decay and arrogance. It will become alien to you.
With this in mind, the custom of the בעל קורא taking the Aliyah takes on new meaning.
The Ba’al Koreh as the Anti-Hoarder
The Ba’al Koreh represents the elite scholar. He has cultivated the “vineyard” – he possesses [or at least he is supposed to possess] the highly technical, specialized knowledge required to read the unvoweled Torah scroll flawlessly.
If the Ba’al Koreh were to stand by and watch a regular, unlettered congregant be called up to the Torah, struggle, and face public humiliation, he would be guilty of תאגר. He would be hoarding his mastery, keeping his Torah to himself while the community suffers. His Torah would be infected by the “worm of decay” – an arrogance that alienates him from his fellow Jews.
The Enactment of the “Holy Worm”
Instead, what does the Ba’al Koreh do? He appropriates the Aliyah. But critically, he does so without being called by name. He receives no honorific יעמוד – Arise! There is no pomp or public recognition of his status[3].
By stepping up unprompted to shield the congregation from embarrassment, especially in an Aliyah that overtly contains harsh rebukes, the Ba’al Koreh completely nullifies his ego. He embodies the exact humility of the second worm – the תולעת יעקב. He transforms his elite intellectual mastery into an act of profound, ego-less service. He pours his “wine” out for the community to drink so they do not have to taste the bitterness of public shame.
The Medium is the Message
This creates a breathtaking irony. The תוכחה contains some of the most terrifying curses in the Torah, including the curse of the scholar whose hoarded Torah rots from the inside out.
Yet, because of the Halaĉic anomaly in Tractate Sofrim, the only way this curse can be read aloud in the synagogue is if the scholar of the community actively refuses to hoard his Torah. By bypassing the proxy system and stepping in to protect the vulnerable congregant, the Ba’al Koreh proves that the Torah is a living, shared inheritance, not a private estate.
The very Halaĉic mechanism used to read the rebuke serves as the spiritual antidote to the rebuke itself.
[1] – as indeed we do when reading about the sin of the Golden Calf. That Parsha is structured so that the entire affair is read during the Levi Aliyah – since they were the only people not to have participated in the sin.
[2] Which process is started in this week’s Parsha when Moshe tells the people to write the Torah באר היטב and to inscribe it in stones ושדת אותם בשיד – covered in lime to prevent wearing by the elements.
[3] Really we should consider whether a מי שברך should even be recited after the Aliyah.
[i] Gem. Megilla 31b
[ii] Oreĉ Ĉaim 428:6
[iii] Gem. Bava Kama 82a
[iv] Tosefos תנא Gem. Megilla 21b
[v] Oreĉ Ĉaim 141:2
[vi] מסכת סופרים 12:3
[vii] Gem. Sanhedrin 7a
[viii] Yer. Pe’ah 2:4
[ix] Hoshaya 8:12
[x] Pardes Rimonim 23:22
[xi] Yeshayahu 41:14
[xii] Tehillim 22:7