The last of the 613 mitzvoth is to “write this song for yourselves, and teach it to the children of Israel, and place it in their mouths, so that this song will be for Me a witness in Bnei Yisroel.”

The first question that needs to be asked is what song is Hashem referring to. Rashi, who always prefers the simplest reading of the text, says that this mitzvah refers to Parshat Haazinu that follows this Parsha. After all, when we look at the Torah scroll, we will notice that the text for Parshat Haazinu is written in brick format, the poetic format for Torah text as contrasted to the full line format of its prose.

However, the script alone would not justify its being called a song/poem. Biblical song is elevating and joyous. Yet, if we look at the text of Parshat Haazinu, we will note that most of it is very depressing. It tells of our going away from the path Hashem has laid out for us in His Torah and the terrible tragedies that therefore will ensue. How is this uplifting and joyous?

Nevertheless, all our commentators agree that Haazinu is definitely song. The Sefas Emes offers one explanation. He cites Tehillim where King David writes, “Of kindness and justice do I sing.” Bnei Yisroel, both individually and collectively, have the capacity to see God’s love not only in God’s kindnesses to us, but also in His justice, when He chastises us through punishment to bring us closer to Him.

Yet another approach is that of the Netivot Shalom, the Slonomer Rebbe. While the Netivot Shalom agrees that most of the shira (song) is chastisement, he chooses to focus on the last few verses of Haazinu. Here lies the comfort and reason to sing, for here Hashem reassures us that He will avenge the blood of His servants and appease His land and His people. This is Hashem’s promise to us, that even if we are not worthy, He will never forget us, never push us away, He will redeem us.

This promise is a source of great encouragement throughout our history, and a powerful reason to sing.

Most of the Torah commentators, however, believe the “song” referred to here is the entire Torah. It is from this verse that they derive the mitzvah that every Jew must write his own Sefer Torah, a mitzvah that can be fulfilled by underwriting even one letter, as a single missing letter can invalidate the entire scroll and filling in that letter can make the scroll “kosher” again.

How can the entire Torah be referred to as a song, especially since it is not written in poetic format? We can answer this question by examining the differences between song/poetry and prose. We would readily agree with Haamek Davar that prose is generally writing that is meant to be understood totally upon its initial reading. (We are not talking about technical manuals, lawyerspeak, or textbooks here.) It will include clarifying details within the text itself. Poetry, on the other hand, is defined by its “economy of language” and the particular elements, such as metaphors, that add shades and levels of meaning to the lines.

Hashem in His Torah is the greatest practitioner of “economy of language.” Each word, indeed each letter, offers greater insights into meaning, allusions, inferences, and secrets using the four basic elements (PaRDe”S- plain meaning, alluded meaning, derived meaning, mystic meaning) to uncover as many as 70 different interpretations of the text.

Rav Reiss uses the poetic image from Shir Hashirim to further explain the magnificence of Torah study: “The King brought me into His chambers.” When viewed from the outside, the castle is magnificent. However, as one enters and goes from room to room, his awe grows as he encounters greater richness and beauty in the furnishings and accoutrements of each room.

So, too, with Torah study. During a cursory reading, one can already recognize the Torah’s splendor. However, as one delves ever more deeply into the text, one marvels ever more greatly at all the myriad nuances and textures that continue to be revealed.

Shirah, however, is song as well as poetry. Rav Reiss continues his explanation. Music, he points out, is not appreciated by listening to one note at a time. Rather, one can only sense the beauty of music by hearing how the notes blend together to form a harmonious whole. Similarly, the Torah too must be appreciated as a whole more than for any particular part of it.

This is what King David meant, posits Rav Reiss, when he wrote, “The Torah of Hashem is perfect (complete); it restores the soul.” Only when the Torah is studied and observed in its entirety rather than piecemeal does it have the ability to restore one’s soul. Just as one cannot remove even one spring from a clock and expect it to work, so too one cannot remove one piece of Torah and expect it to work on one’s soul.

The well known adage, “Don’t miss the forest for the trees,” has tremendous significance in relation to Torah and to its application to our lives, points out Rabbi Itamar Schwartz in Build for Me a Sanctuary. All the mitzvoth have one ultimate goal, to bring us closer to Hashem.

It is this same reasoning that Rabbi Jacobson uses in Toward a Meaningful Life. If we were to make a list of everything we do each day and all the events in our lives, it would undoubtedly appear to be very pedestrian and meaningless. However, continues Rabbi Jacobson, if we can find one thread, one uniting factor, it would add meaning to all the necessary but mundane activities of life. We can make a conscious effort to see meaning even in eating and drinking as a means to energize us toward a meaningful life of Torah and mitzvoth that may not in and of themselves occupy most of our time but form the thread that unites all aspects of our lives.

Two of the symbols that grace our Rosh Hashanah table are the pomegranate and the apple. Rabbi Schwartz clarifies the differences between them. While we pray that we may be filled with mitzvoth like a pomegranate, the Gemarrah in Berachot says that “even the emptiest of them are filled with mitzvoth like a pomegranate.” Rabbi Schwartz cites Hagaon Harav Dovid Povarsky zt”l in explaining that each seed in a pomegranate is separate, not connected to any others seed, enveloped in its individual sac.

In a similar way, a man can have many mitzvoth, many acts of chessed, but these may remain individual acts if he does not see the unifying element and spirituality that should infuse these acts, making their goal the spiritual meaning of his life.

The apple, on the other hand, has its seeds at its core, and everything else surrounds them. The apple, the meaning to our lives, is dipped in honey to provide the sweetness our lives need to be meaningful. Each act of observance becomes meaningful when performed as a thread in the fabric of the whole, rather than as an isolated, perhaps even rote, action.

When observing Shabbat, or introducing others to Shabbat, we must focus on experiencing the beauty of Shabbat first before studying each law and precept. Otherwise Shabbat loses its essence and becomes an onerous day with myriad laws that can boggle our minds and depress the uninitiated.

It is the spiritual aspect of song that shira defines in contrast to the zimrah, which implies the mechanics of song. This spiritual aspect is what we yearn for on the Seder night, Rav Schlesinger points out in Eleh Hadvarim, when we pray to sing before Him a new song, a shir chodosh and a shira chadasha. Torah is not just the black inked words that prescribe and proscribe our actions, but also the white parchment upon which those words are written, the purpose and spirit of the laws without which observance becomes an empty shell.

That is why, continues Rabbi Schlesinger, even if his parents wrote one, it is necessary for every individual to write his own Sefer Torah, to recommit himself to a life infused with Torah as his individual soul relates to Hashem. And he must teach his children this song, not just the words, so that they too will appreciate the beauty and majesty of the Torah they are heirs to.

While Torah study and observance can be difficult at times, can become a chore, while we may have time and energy constraints, we can always find the strength to sing. As Rabbi Frand point out, song comes from the soul. It expresses one’s feelings of closeness and yearning. It bursts forth in joy and exultation. Song is a spontaneous expression of our innermost souls.

This is what Torah should be. It must become part of our very essence, as Rav Dessler teaches us. And as we sing this song to Hakodosh Boruch Hu, the song gives back to us and uplifts us.

When Bnei Yisroel delve deeply into Torah study and give it voice, they sing the praises of Hakodosh Boruch Hu and bear witness to His sovereignty over earth. As such, says Rav Moshe Bick, the song publicizes our relationship with our Father, our Creator, and bears witness on our behalf against all heavenly accusers during these Days of Awe.

Singing the personal Torah song and internalizing it protects us, for who would come forth to accuse the sons of the King of wrongdoing.

As Rosh Hashanah approaches, let us write the score of the Torah on our hearts and join together in a joyous symphony of renewed harmony with all creation. Let the spirit and joy of a Torah life infuse our lives with meaning and bear witness that we merit the blessings Hashem will bestow upon us in the coming year iy”H.

(Summary by Channie Koplowitz Stein)