Excerpted from Megillat Ruth Mesorat HaRav, co-published by OU Press and Koren Publishers Jerusalem
Standing for The Ten Commandments
On the first day of the holiday of Shavuot, we read the Torah portion about the Revelation at Sinai and the Ten Commandments (Shulḥan Arukh, Oraḥ Ḥayyim 494:1). Maimonides (Teshuvot, Blau ed., 263) was asked if it is an appropriate custom to specifically stand during the reading of the Ten Commandments. The questioner felt that such a custom should not be allowed, just as the Rabbis themselves (Berakhot 12a) dissolved the practice of reading the Ten Commandments along with the Shema because of heretics who claimed that the Ten Commandments were more important than the rest of the Torah. The questioner felt that anything that places extra emphasis on the Ten Commandments over the rest of the Torah would share the same potential for heresy.
In his response, Maimonides passionately agrees with the questioner and maintains that indeed one should not stand specifically for the reading of the Ten Commandments. Rather, one should sit, as one does during the rest of the Torah reading. Maimonides suspects that standing for the Ten Commandments will possibly lead to a laxity in faith, for one will begin to think that certain sections of the Torah are more important than others. Therefore, Maimonides concludes that this practice should be avoided.
However, despite Maimonides’ opinion, the current commonplace custom is to stand during the reading of the Ten Commandments (see Shaarei Ephraim 7:37; Iggerot Moshe, Oraḥ Ḥayyim 4:22). The question is, why indeed is this our custom? Why do we not follow Maimonides’ compelling argument? Furthermore, why is standing for the reading of
the Ten Commandments any different from the custom that the Rabbis dissolved of reading the Ten Commandments with the Shema?
We can understand our custom of standing for the reading of the Ten Commandments based on the following. The Ten Commandments, unlike other sections of the Torah, have two sets of cantillations, known as “ta’am taḥton” and “ta’am elyon.” The difference between them is as follows: the ta’am taḥton divides the Ten Commandments by verses, in the same manner as the rest of the Torah. The ta’am elyon, however, divides the Ten Commandments not into units of verses but by commandment. For example, the fourth commandment contains four verses according
to ta’am taḥton (Ex. 20:7-10), but when using the ta’am elyon, it is read as one long verse, being that these four verses comprise just one of the Ten Commandments. Likewise, the fifth through eighth commandments, according to ta’am taḥton, are contained in one verse (Ex. 20:12), but when using ta’am elyon are read as four separate verses, one verse for each individual commandment.
With this in mind, we can understand the custom of standing for the Ten Commandments. The regular weekly reading of the Torah was instituted in order to fulfill our communal obligation of Torah study. It was specifically designed to fulfill this obligation through the reading of the Written Torah. Consequently, we fulfill this obligation by reading the pesukim of the Torah. The Talmud states that we cannot divide a verse in a way that Moses did not divide it (Megillah 24a). Therefore, when fulfilling our communal obligation of learning Torah, the Torah must be read in
the way that Moses divided it, to constitute reading pesukim.
When the Ten Commandments are read with the ta’am elyon, by contrast, our goal is not to fulfill our obligation of reading Torah. Rather we are reading the Ten Commandments as a commemoration of what transpired at Mount Sinai, and therefore the reading is divided into commandments (as they were said at Sinai), not into verses.
In many congregations, on the weeks of Parashat Yitro and Va’etḥanan in which the Ten Commandments are read, they are read with the regular cantillation, ta’am taḥton (see Beiur Halakhah 494). This is because this reading is part of the regular weekly reading of the Torah in which we are fulfilling our communal obligation of learning Torah, and therefore it must be read with the regular cantillation (ta’am taḥton).
However, on Shavuot, everyone has the custom to read the Ten Commandments with the ta’am elyon. This is because the reading of the Ten Commandments on Shavuot is not meant to fulfill our communal obligation of learning Torah; rather, the reading is a commemoration of the giving of the Torah at Mount Sinai, and thus we divide the Ten Commandments into the unit of commandments, not into verses (see Magen Avraham 494 in the name of Ḥizkuni).
It follows that our current custom to stand during the recitation of the Ten Commandments applies when they are being read with the ta’am elyon. This cantillation demonstrates that our reading is a commemoration of what took place at Mount Sinai, and therefore we stand just as the Jewish nation stood around Mount Sinai when receiving the Torah (see Ex. 19:17; Deut. 4:11). Likewise, it would seem that Maimonides’ disapproval of standing for the Ten Commandments is when they are being read with the ta’am taḥton, which indicates that they are being read as verses of the Torah. One cannot stand for the Ten Commandments when they are read as a particular segment of the Torah, because this would indeed indicate that one ascribes more significance to them than to the rest of the Torah.
When reading the Ten Commandments with ta’am elyon, however, we do not have to be concerned about the appearance of giving primacy to the Ten Commandments. We are not standing due to the content of the Torah reading but rather as a commemoration of what transpired at Mount Sinai. The Ten Commandments are no more sacred than the parashah which speaks of Timnah, the concubine of Elifaz (Gen. 36:12), but the Ten Commandments are read not only as a text which is being studied, but as a text which is being promulgated and proclaimed by God Himself.
Judaism developed a very peculiar philosophy of memory, indeed, an ethics of memory. Memory and forgetfulness are subject to ethical determination. Memory is not just the capacity of man to know events which lie in the past. Memory is experiential in nature; one does not simply recollect the past or just remember bygones, but reexperiences that which has been, and quickens events that are seemingly dead.
Many mitzvot are based upon this idea. The Passover seder is, of course, the prime example: “In each generation a person is required to see himself as if he had gone out of Egypt” (Haggadah). Likewise, the reading of the Ten Commandments is not only a didactic performance of limmud, study, but a restaging, a dramatic reenacting of mattan Torah. That is why people rise when it is read.
