Community Blog

    Shabbat Shalom! This week’s Torah portion is Parashat Ha’azinu, Moses’s final address to the Israelites recounted in the form of a song. The Haftarah this week comes from II Samuel, chapter 22, and is also a song - the song David sings after David has defeated both Saul and the Philistines, and has long since secured his place as King. While each song is fairly different, as are the contexts in which they are sung, they are both essentially about praising God and the importance following through with the plan God has laid out for the Israelite people. 

I cannot understate the importance of song, especially in ancient times. We know now from modern developmental science that music helps the brain retain information, and so it makes sense that the main form of transmitting memorized messages, legends of old, and so on, was through song. In a time before prayer books, liturgical music was necessary so that people could join in, and remember, the prayers week-to-week. Of course, they did have one advantage over us in that they spoke the language - or in the case of our slightler later ancient ancestors who spoke Aramaic, at least it is more similar to Biblical and liturgical Hebrew than English is!

Though the songs of this parasha and haftarah are written into their narratives as though Moses and David fairly spontaneously broke into song, the truth is these songs were probably written much later and put into their stories as a means to solidify these triumphant or pedagogically imperative moments. Even David, of whom we have more concrete evidence of his life as a king and musician, probably did not really pen the songs the Bible credits him with. This was simply how epic messages were relayed and solidified - as songs. 

However, maybe we should spontaneously break into song more often. Some of us do, when a situation or something someone else says reminds us of a beloved song. But that’s not the kind of impromptu singing I’m talking about. I think we as modern progressive Jews also need to feel less inhibited with our spontaneous prayer and singing the songs of our hearts. Whatever feelings many of us many have around ultra-Orthodox customs and communities, and particularly certain sects of Hasidism, we must give credit where credit is due that the Hasids know how to sing their praises to God and to the path they see as having been laid out before them in service as God. The practice of singing niggunim, wordless melodies that entrance us, prepare us for liturgical prayer, or propel us as we dance at Simchat Torah or a family simcha, comes from the Hasidic tradition. Singing and dancing and unmitigated joy in their prayer service is a staple of Hasidic gatherings. 

A legend of the Baal Shem Tov, the founder of the Hasidic movement in the 18th century, goes that a misnaged (the Orthodox Jews of the 18th century who opposed the break off of the Hasidic movement), once asked the Baal Shem Tov, "Why is it that Hasidim burst into song and dance at the slightest provocation? Is this the behavior of a healthy, sane individual?" The Baal Shem Tov responded with a story:

Once, a musician came to town — a musician of great but unknown talent. He stood on a street corner and began to play. Those who stopped to listen could not tear themselves away, and soon a large crowd stood enthralled by the glorious music whose equal they had never heard. Before long they were moving to its rhythm, and the entire street was transformed into a dancing mass of humanity. A deaf man walking by wondered: Has the world gone mad? Why are the townspeople jumping up and down, waving their arms and turning in circles in the middle of the street? "Hasidim," concluded the Baal Shem Tov, "are moved by the melody that issues forth from every creature in G‑d's creation. If this makes them appear mad to those with less sensitive ears, should they therefore cease to dance?" On one level, we could read into this the sense that many of us have felt from Hasidic or other Orthodox Jews in our own lives - that they have tapped into something deeper and realer than the rest of us, and our assessment of their perceived difference from us comes only from our own disability. But on another level, we could simply embrace the beautiful idea that there is music in everything all around us, that the whole world is a song of praise to the Creator, and we all must give voice to it in one way or another. 

Years later, the Baal Shem Tov’s great-grandson, Rebbe Nachman of Breslov wrote: “A holy melody has the power to bring one to the level of prophecy. Music is the foundation of true attachment to God. Music has a tremendous power to draw you to God. Get into the habit of always singing a tune. It will give you a new life and send joy into your soul. Then you will be able to bind yourself to God. It is especially good to sing on Shabbat and the festivals, and at a wedding celebration.” 

    My hope for each of you is to feel that power of song. Let it burst forth from your heart, sing it aloud with great abandon. Dance to the music in your head, and let each note be a praise to the life you have been given on this great Earth. May each note fall from you and light your way through dark times, guiding your path ahead to more days of singing and celebration again. And may we all sing with joy. Amen and Shabbat Shalom.