Most people who travel the Metro on a regular basis have a Metro strategy. Among tricks often employed to minimize distractions and maximize comfort, some gravitate toward a favorite spot in the car, others always carry a book or newspaper and still others plug in their headphones the moment the lights on the platform start flashing.

Personally, I can't sit facing the front of the car and I always like to carry reading material. When I took the Metro to work every day, I always carried a book; I could never read more than a few pages on my short commute, but the cumulative effect of 10 trips a week made the effort satisfying.

These days I take the Metro so infrequently that dragging a book along (especially when the destination is dinner or a movie) seems impractical. So now when I know I have a ride ahead of me, I photocopy a few pages out of the tikkun and spend the time learning a Torah portion.

A Torah portion is the perfect thing to have on the Metro. I hardly ever travel more than four or five stops--10 minutes, the amount of time we suggest our bar and bat mitzvah students study every day. We also tell them to practice out loud and in front of people; I always have company and the rumbling of the train masks my constant humming. (The added benefit of singing to yourself on the Metro is that people tend to give you a wide berth.)

I want you to have a picture of me learning Torah on the Metro because if you can picture me, perhaps you can picture yourself. There's no magic just because I'm a rabbi; I need to practice 10 minutes a day to master the text just like our seventh and eighth grade students.

And you should know something else about my Torah reading skills: they were a recent acquisition. Young girls didn't learn trope when I was growing up in a traditional synagogue in Chicago. And it wasn't a requirement for graduation at Hebrew Union College. Trope class was offered at 8:30 a.m. and I was not optimistic enough to think that I might make it--on time, every week--to an optional class during my fourth year of graduate school.

So last year, when I was asked to read Torah for my niece's bat mitzvah, instead of learning from a tape as I always had, I sat down and finally learned the system. I had a few lessons with a patient friend and kept Meryl Weiner's voice, chanting the notes, running continuously on my CD player. Every week I would follow the trope marks in v'ahavta and soon I was able to chant along in my head as our bar and bat mitzvah students stood at the bima.

When our sanctuary was built nearly 1 years ago, the bima was purposefully kept low. We, of course, want you to feel that we are one community --that those of us who lead services are praying with you. We also want you to feel like the bima is accessible to you--it is, literally, one small step.

I'd like to invite you to think about learning a Torah portion and chanting it for the congregation. if this seems ambitious or out of reach, perhaps, with some coaching, you will remember the haftarah you chanted when you became bar or bat mitzvah. Or maybe you could honor the congregation by accepting an aliyah--reciting the blessings over the Torah--or by lifting or holding the Torah during services.

This is, in part, an invitation to help us deepen our worship through your involvement. The more voices, the more experiences that are brought to worship, the richer it becomes. it is also an invitation for you to become more involved in deepening your connection to Judaism on a daily basis.

Spend 10 minutes learning to chant a Torah portion, or reading a chapter of the weekly Torah portion in English. Read some Hebrew poetry, listen to some klezmer music. You can do all of these things on the Metro. if you are tied to your computer, look into the Reform Movement's Ten Minutes of Torah, , which brings Jewish learning on a variety of topics to your inbox every weekday.

Let me know what we can do to facilitate your further learning and participation. Let me know what you are learning. I promise I will do the same for you.