Reading from the Torah shouldn’t be this hard

My 12-year-old cousin called me this past weekend and asked me to give the aliyot at his Bar Mitzvah next January.

It is a great honor to give the aliyot, reserved for those family members who have had a deep impact on the young Jew’s life. It basically involves me standing at his Bar Mitzvah and performing an interactive reading from the Torah.

Aside from nearly getting my cousin drunk at Passover and taking him to a Nats game two months ago, I’m not sure how I have positively influenced his life. Still, I was flattered to be asked and eagerly accepted the offer.

The problem, though, is that giving the aliyot (or aliyah) will combine two of my greatest fears: speaking in public and speaking in Hebrew.

When it comes to public speaking, I can pinpoint exactly when my fear comes from.

When I was in 10th grade, I had to do an oral book report. I chose the book “The Natural”. I never read it, though, since I was too busy crushing on girls in my class and distracted by things far more important than learning.

When the day of my book report came, I decided instead to just go off the movie The Natural, one of my favorite baseball movies albeit a flawed one. I stood in front of the class and provided an in-depth examination of Robert Redford’s, er, Roy Hobbes’ life.

I delved into motifs, foreshadowing, and plot development, completing my masterpiece by comparing Hobbes’ epic homerun in his final at bat of the movie as the ultimate act of redemption.

My teacher, Mr. Sanchez, looked at me and asked, in front of the entire class, “Uh, did you read the book?”

Why did he ask me that, I thought. Could he see through my ruse? Was I not convincing enough? Act confident, he won’t suspect a thing.

“Of course!” I answered.

“Well,” he continued, “here’s the thing. In the book, Roy Hobbes strikes out in his last at bat. In the movie, he hits the homerun.”

Whoops.

The class “oohed” and “aahed”. I could feel my face burning with embarrassment. I stammered, trying to explain the disparity. Mr. Sanchez looked at me with disappointed eyes. He let me stand there, suffering, for what felt like hours, no, weeks, until he finally let me off the hook.

“Take your seat.”

I never got over that moment and, to this day, cannot make a speech in front of even friends and family without nearly fainting from shame.

So standing in front of hundreds of people, reading Hebrew from the Torah, isn’t exactly at the top of my bucket list. I don’t expect my family to heckle me (though I wouldn’t out it past my dad). I expect them to be supportive, pat me on the back, and tell me what a great job I did when it’s all over.

But I hope this time, I at least get the ending right.