This Shabbat, as we read Parshiyot Nitzavim-Vayeilech, we are just days away from Rosh Hashanah. It is a time to stop for a moment, look back at the year that has passed, and think about the year ahead. It is interesting, therefore, that at this point the Torah says:
“וְעַתָּה כִּתְבוּ לָכֶם אֶת הַשִּׁירָה הַזֹּאת"
“And now, write for yourselves this song" (Devarim 31:19).
The pasuk is speaking about the Torah itself. Moshe Rabbeinu is commanded to write “this song," and Chazal teach us that this refers to the Torah. The Torah, the word of Hashem handed down from generation to generation, is called a Shirah - a song.
Why does the Torah call itself a Shirah?
Perhaps because we can hear the same song many times and still hear something new. A child can enjoy a piece of music, and years later, when he hears it again, he may notice things he never noticed as a child. The music has not changed; he has.
That is one of the special things about Torah. We learn the same Torah that our parents and grandparents learned. The words stay the same. The Chumash is the same Chumash, the Mishnah the same Mishnah, and the Gemara the same Gemara. Yet when we come back to those same words at different stages of life, they can mean something quite different to us. What we understand as children is not what we understand as young adults, and after the experiences of life, the same words can suddenly take on a whole new meaning.
The Torah does not change, but we change, and our understanding grows with us.
And when a song really touches us, we don't just listen to it. We sing it. Perhaps that is something to think about as Rosh Hashanah approaches. Have we really lived our Torah during the past year, or have we sometimes simply gone through the motions? Did our learning excite us? Did our tefillah come from the heart? Did our mitzvot still have meaning, or did they sometimes become routine?
Just as we sing a song that means something to us with feeling, our Torah and mitzvot should also be something that we feel and live, not simply something we do because we have to.
There is another part of the idea of a Shirah that is especially relevant to Nitzavim.
A beautiful song is not made by everyone singing the same note. Different voices and different instruments each have their own part, and when they come together they create harmony. The notes are different, but they are part of the same song.
That is also true of Klal Yisrael.
Nitzavim begins:
“אַתֶּם נִצָּבִים הַיּוֹם כֻּלְּכֶם לִפְנֵי ה' אֱלֹקֵיכֶם"
“You are standing today, all of you, before Hashem your God."
The Torah then lists different members of the nation - “רָאשֵׁיכֶם... זִקְנֵיכֶם... טַפְּכֶם... מֵחֹטֵב עֵצֶיךָ עַד שֹׁאֵב מֵימֶיךָ" - the leaders and elders, the children, and those doing the most basic jobs. Everyone is there, and everyone has a place.
We are not all alike. We have different abilities, different responsibilities, different personalities and different ways of looking at things. But we all stand before the same Hashem.
This is particularly meaningful on Rosh Hashanah, whose central theme is Malchuyot - accepting Hashem as King. We proclaim His מלכות, and that proclamation is accompanied by the sound of the shofar.
The shofar has no words. It is simply a cry, yet every Jew can hear it. A child hears the tekiah, as does a great talmid chacham. Someone who has spent his life immersed in Torah hears it, and so does someone who may struggle with the words of the siddur. The sound is the same, but each person hears it in his own way.
And perhaps that is something we need to remember before Rosh Hashanah. We have disagreements about politics, elections, the war and many other things that divide us. These differences are real, and there is no need to pretend otherwise. But disagreeing with another Jew does not mean that we are no longer part of the same nation, and it certainly does not mean that we are no longer part of the same song.
Harmony does not mean that every voice sounds the same. The different voices are what create the harmony.
Throughout our history, Klal Yisrael has had different communities, different approaches and different voices. What unites us is not that we all think alike. Beneath our differences, we share the same Torah, the same mesorah and the same Hashem. Each of us has our own responsibility and our own contribution, but none of us can sing the whole song on our own.
As we stand before the Yom HaDin, this is also something each of us should ask ourselves. Teshuvah means looking honestly at the year that has passed, but it also means thinking about what we want to do differently in the year ahead. Have I really been listening to the song? Have I allowed the Torah to speak to me again? Have I brought more life into my learning, more feeling into my tefillah and more meaning into my mitzvot? And have I remembered that my own note is important, but it is not the whole song?
The Torah remains the same, but we are not the same. Every year we come back to the same Torah and have the opportunity to hear something new. Every generation finds new depths, and every Jew can find his own place within it. Yet Nitzavim reminds us that although each of us stands before Hashem as an individual, we stand “כולכם" - all of you, together.
As we enter this final Shabbat before Rosh Hashanah, let us listen again - to the Torah, to the shofar, and perhaps also to one another. We may have different voices and different notes, but we belong to one Torah and one Klal Yisrael.
כתיבה וחתימה טובה לכולנו, לשנה טובה ומתוקה. May the coming year bring brachah and nachas to our homes, joy to our hearts, and much song into our lives. May we hear the song of Torah more deeply, sing with greater feeling, and may the whole of Klal Yisrael merit to sing together in peace, achdut and simchah.
“שִׁירָה חֲדָשָׁה שִׁבְּחוּ גְאוּלִים" - Let the redeemed sing a song of redemption.