By: Chaya Sora Jungreis-Gertzulin

This Shabbos, we read parshiyos Nitzavim and Vayeilech. We are coming towards the end of the Chumash, and the final days of Moshe Rabbeinu’s life.

In Parshas Vayeilech, Bnei Yisroel are given the last of the six-hundred-thirteen mitzvos. ““V’atah kisvu lachem es hashirah hazos, And now write for yourself this song.” (Devarim 31:19).

Chazal teach that the “song” is the song of Torah. There is an obligation for each person to write a Sefer Torah for himself. Since most of us are not proficient in the detailed requirements and precision required to write a Sefer Torah, this can be accomplished by commissioning a sofer, a scribe. One can also fulfill the mitzva by joining with others to have a Torah written, or by arranging for a pasuk, a word, or even letters to be written on one’s behalf.

“And now, write for yourself this song.” Herein lies the power of a Jew. The inner strength of Am Yisroel. No matter where life takes us, no matter our pains and problems, travails and troubles, a Jew lives with shirah, song. To live life with Torah. To see the beauty of HaShem’s world and creations. To constantly have the song of Torah on our lips.

I grew up in a hachnosas orchim home. My parents were the rabbi and rebbetzin of the community. Every Shabbos, different members of the shul would join us around the table.

Joe was a regular, and would entertain us children with his stories and jokes. One Shabbos, as we were all singing zemiros, Joe turned to my father with a question. “Rabbi, what does this song mean?” referring to the zemer, Yonah motzoh boh manoach, On it, Yonah – the dove – found rest.

My father closed his eyes, as in deep thought and concentration, contemplating his words. After a minute or two, Abba spoke. It was the first time, and only time, I ever heard my father speak about the “war” – the Holocaust that ripped his beloved family from him, that left him a war orphan. Our father was a man of simcha, and only wanted to share happy memories with us.

“Joe, when we were liberated, the group I was with all sang Yonah motzoh boh manoach…”

I was a young girl then. I didn’t think much into my father’s response to Joe, but the memory remained with me.

It was only years later that I thought about it, and truly appreciated my father’s words.

Manoach… rest… comfort. To think of menuchah even under the bleakest of circumstances. My father was alone, bereft of family, not knowing where to turn, where life would take him.

Unsure of their future, a whole group sang together, not knowing how they will start life over again. But they sang. They believed that all will be good. That HaShem will be with them and guide them through those difficult times.

“Write for yourself this song.” To sing even when all logic says to cry. But we are Am Yisroel, a nation whose very existence defies logic. A nation that sings Ani Maamin, I believe, I have faith, no matter what.

Moshe gave Bnei Yisroel a message for generations. To write shirah – songs, “…V’lamdah es bnei Yisroel simah b’fihem, and teach it to your children, place it in their mouths…” so that it will be an everlasting memory. (Devarim 31:19)

The word shirah has a gematria, a numerical value of five-hundred-fifteen, as does the word tefilla, prayer. Our prayers become shirah, songs, for our prayers are expressions of hope for the future.

Dovid HaMelech writes, “Ashirah l’HaShem b’chayai, I will sing to HaShem with my life.” (Tehillim 104:33) Dovid endured much hardship, yet he sang shirah. He also said “V’ani tefilla, I (My life) is a prayer (ibid. 109:4). To sing, to pray.

Rabbi Nachman of Breslov was a big believer in the power of song. In Rabbi Nachman’s Wisdom, he is quoted as saying, “Get into the habit of singing a tune. It will give you new life, and fill you with joy. Even if you don’t sing well, sing. Sing to yourself, sing in the privacy of your home, but sing.”

Every day, as part of our Shacharis tefillah, we recite different chapters of Tehillim as the Shir Shel Yom, the Song of the Day. So many pesukim from the Torah and portions of davening have been put to song. Songs that help us remember the Torah’s words. Songs that become embedded within our hearts and souls.

The Yamim Noraim are upon us. There is nothing more beautiful that a heartzig, heartfelt davening with beautiful shirah that has the power to penetrate our neshama.

As children, we went to our grandparents, Mama and Zeide for the Yamim Noraim. Our parents wanted us to have the z’chus to hear Zeide’s davening. Zeide’s niggunim, his melodies were timeless, passed down from his father and ancestors. Even after I got married, I continued going with my husband to Mama and Zeide for the Yamim Noraim. And it continued further when we had our own children.

When, due to illness, it became too difficult for Zeide to be the shaliach tzibbur, to lead the davening, my husband continued on, using Zeide’s age-old niggunim. One of our family favorites was Zeide’s “Ya’aleh”, which we recite on Kol Nidre night. It was this melody that was with us during one of our family’s most difficult times – the petirah of my beloved mother, Rebbetzin Esther bas HaRav Avraham HaLevi a”h. We were all together, children and grandchildren, all wanting to be with our Ima, our Bubba, during those last moments.

There, in the hospital room, we stood, and filled the room with shirah. My husband led us in Zeide’s Ya’aleh. It was then that a look of serenity and tranquility came upon my mother’s face.

The power of shirah. The strength of Am Yisroel.

Shabbat Shalom!

Chaya Sora

Chaya Sora can be reached at [email protected]

This article was written L’zecher Nishmas /In Memory Of HaRav Meshulem ben HaRav Osher Anshil HaLevi, zt”l and Rebbetzin Esther bas HaRav Avraham HaLevi, zt”l