A SHIRA LIKE NO OTHER
Most of Parshas Haazinu is a shira, a song that Moshe Rabbeinu recited to the Jewish People. Rashi (Devarim 32:12) explains that this shira serves primarily as a rebuke of the nation.
Throughout the Tanach, shira serves to praise Hashem for great events of the nation’s history, except for here. Why is a song, which usually conveys a joyful, positive message, used here to convey rebuke? Moreover, why did Moshe find it necessary to add this rebuke? The nation had just heart the 98 curses we read in Parshas Ki Savo, and before, another lengthy rebuke appears in Parshas Bechukosai?
Harav Yechezkel Sarna answers that the other rebukes served to demonstrate to the nation that the world would not allow Klal Yisrael to stray from its spiritual charge. There is no such thing as “nature,” and the Jewish People cannot expect the functioning of the natural world to simply go on regardless of their behavior. On the contrary, there is a covenant between the natural world and the Jewish People; depending on whichever way the nation chooses to go, there will be either blessing or curse. If we engage in mitzvos, we merit blessing in creation. If we spurn the mitzvos, we are punished with curses. (See Ramban, Shmos 13:16.)
By contrast, Parshas Haazinu describes to the nation the greatness of its past and its great purpose in the future, in such eloquent terms that it is called shira. However, it contains an implied rebuke: Look how great you were in the past! You have great spiritual potential! Why are you falling short of it?
What can we counter? We should be like the towering spiritual figures of our past? Isn’t there a concept of yeridas hadoros, that the further we get from Sinai, the less each successive generation is capable of in terms of spiritual achievement? That being the case, how can this shira place such demands on the weaker generations that follow?
The answer is found in the shira itself, which describes not only the past but the nation’s glorious future as well (Rashi, Devarim 32:12). If so, “yeridas hadoros” is not our natural state and the demand upon us is legitimate.
This is why Moshe saw fit to add the rebuke of Haazinu. The previous rebukes were open warnings that we at least do teshuva out of fear of Hashem. Haazinu is a call to do teshuva out of love of Hashem. Meaning, when we appreciate our nation’s former greatness, recognize that this greatness is expected of us even today, and try to live up to this challenge – this is teshuva done out of love.
Rav Yechezkel Levinstein would ask his talmidim: “Every one of us has great spiritual abilities; are we aware of them? Let’s take just one small example. Chazal say that lashon hara gives a person absolutely no pleasure whatever — neither real nor imaginary (Taanis 9a). Do we feel that way? Even if we do not speak lashon hara, are we never tempted to do so? Do we never feel such an urge? This means that we are falling short of the ability that Chazal view as basic, that lashon hara offers us absolutely nothing!”
“With all matters,” Rav Levinstein concluded, “we have to assess if we are aware of our spiritual abilities and are bringing them out to the fullest.”
Harav Dan Segal uses this principle to defend a certain custom at sheva brachos, in which showers of praise are heaped upon the chassan and kalla. Perhaps this will lead them to conceit? Perhaps this is exaggerated and borders on outright lies?
No, counters Rav Segal. These praises are intended to point out to the chassan and kalla their great potential. Their response should not be to pat themselves on the back, but rather to recognize the high level of behavior and spiritual achievement that is expected from them.
Once, when Rav Shach was making a shiva call, he was asked: “Why is the mourner not allowed to learn Torah during these days? Is it so he shouldn’t feel simcha? Then why is he allowed to eat meat and drink wine?”
“You have a point,” conceded Rav Shach, “but the problem is not so much simcha as it is diverting the mourner’s attention from the great attributes and achievements of the departed. The mourner is given a week to focus on the achievements of his relative and to realize that he too is capable of such things. Even more, now that his relative is gone, it is incumbent upon him to continue the niftar’s achievements. He must use this week to reflect on those achievements, recognize his own spiritual potential and resolve to take action once the shiva is over.”
On a different occasion, a bachur who learned in Ponovezh came to inform Rav Shach that he was engaged, and after the wedding he would be living in Jerusalem.
Rav Shach wished the bachur mazal tov and then added a request: “Here, in Bnei Brak, many people use generators on Shabbos (to avoid electricity produced on Shabbos, as per the halachic position of the Chazon Ish). Where you will be living, many people are not strict about this, but I want you to accept upon yourself to use a generator on Shabbos.”
The bachur replied that he would make sure to follow the Rosh Yeshiva’s request.
After the bachur left, others who had been present asked Rav Shach why he had chosen to ask about use of a generator in particular. The bachur was not from Bnei Brak, they reasoned, nor was his family among those who follow all rulings of the Chazon Ish. Moreover, this bachur was not known as a “machmir” (interested in satisfying as many halachic opinions as possible).
“In the building where this bachur will live,” began Rav Shach, “there are most likely tenants that subscribe to newspapers. Now, when this bachur will come home from Shacharis, he’ll see newspapers in their mailboxes, and the norm is that whoever wants can open these newspapers up and browse through them.
“What can I do to make sure this bachur won’t put his head into the news and out of the Gemara? He has to feel that he has exceptional importance, that a mind such as his belongs in Shas and poskim and must not be wasted on petty matters. If he views himself as one of the machmirim — he will live up to it and not waste his time. That’s what I wanted to do,” Rav Shach explained.
May we be zoche to recognize and reach our potential!
Throughout the Tanach, shira serves to praise Hashem for great events of the nation’s history, except for here. Why is a song, which usually conveys a joyful, positive message, used here to convey rebuke? Moreover, why did Moshe find it necessary to add this rebuke? The nation had just heart the 98 curses we read in Parshas Ki Savo, and before, another lengthy rebuke appears in Parshas Bechukosai?
Harav Yechezkel Sarna answers that the other rebukes served to demonstrate to the nation that the world would not allow Klal Yisrael to stray from its spiritual charge. There is no such thing as “nature,” and the Jewish People cannot expect the functioning of the natural world to simply go on regardless of their behavior. On the contrary, there is a covenant between the natural world and the Jewish People; depending on whichever way the nation chooses to go, there will be either blessing or curse. If we engage in mitzvos, we merit blessing in creation. If we spurn the mitzvos, we are punished with curses. (See Ramban, Shmos 13:16.)
By contrast, Parshas Haazinu describes to the nation the greatness of its past and its great purpose in the future, in such eloquent terms that it is called shira. However, it contains an implied rebuke: Look how great you were in the past! You have great spiritual potential! Why are you falling short of it?
What can we counter? We should be like the towering spiritual figures of our past? Isn’t there a concept of yeridas hadoros, that the further we get from Sinai, the less each successive generation is capable of in terms of spiritual achievement? That being the case, how can this shira place such demands on the weaker generations that follow?
The answer is found in the shira itself, which describes not only the past but the nation’s glorious future as well (Rashi, Devarim 32:12). If so, “yeridas hadoros” is not our natural state and the demand upon us is legitimate.
This is why Moshe saw fit to add the rebuke of Haazinu. The previous rebukes were open warnings that we at least do teshuva out of fear of Hashem. Haazinu is a call to do teshuva out of love of Hashem. Meaning, when we appreciate our nation’s former greatness, recognize that this greatness is expected of us even today, and try to live up to this challenge – this is teshuva done out of love.
Rav Yechezkel Levinstein would ask his talmidim: “Every one of us has great spiritual abilities; are we aware of them? Let’s take just one small example. Chazal say that lashon hara gives a person absolutely no pleasure whatever — neither real nor imaginary (Taanis 9a). Do we feel that way? Even if we do not speak lashon hara, are we never tempted to do so? Do we never feel such an urge? This means that we are falling short of the ability that Chazal view as basic, that lashon hara offers us absolutely nothing!”
“With all matters,” Rav Levinstein concluded, “we have to assess if we are aware of our spiritual abilities and are bringing them out to the fullest.”
Harav Dan Segal uses this principle to defend a certain custom at sheva brachos, in which showers of praise are heaped upon the chassan and kalla. Perhaps this will lead them to conceit? Perhaps this is exaggerated and borders on outright lies?
No, counters Rav Segal. These praises are intended to point out to the chassan and kalla their great potential. Their response should not be to pat themselves on the back, but rather to recognize the high level of behavior and spiritual achievement that is expected from them.
Once, when Rav Shach was making a shiva call, he was asked: “Why is the mourner not allowed to learn Torah during these days? Is it so he shouldn’t feel simcha? Then why is he allowed to eat meat and drink wine?”
“You have a point,” conceded Rav Shach, “but the problem is not so much simcha as it is diverting the mourner’s attention from the great attributes and achievements of the departed. The mourner is given a week to focus on the achievements of his relative and to realize that he too is capable of such things. Even more, now that his relative is gone, it is incumbent upon him to continue the niftar’s achievements. He must use this week to reflect on those achievements, recognize his own spiritual potential and resolve to take action once the shiva is over.”
On a different occasion, a bachur who learned in Ponovezh came to inform Rav Shach that he was engaged, and after the wedding he would be living in Jerusalem.
Rav Shach wished the bachur mazal tov and then added a request: “Here, in Bnei Brak, many people use generators on Shabbos (to avoid electricity produced on Shabbos, as per the halachic position of the Chazon Ish). Where you will be living, many people are not strict about this, but I want you to accept upon yourself to use a generator on Shabbos.”
The bachur replied that he would make sure to follow the Rosh Yeshiva’s request.
After the bachur left, others who had been present asked Rav Shach why he had chosen to ask about use of a generator in particular. The bachur was not from Bnei Brak, they reasoned, nor was his family among those who follow all rulings of the Chazon Ish. Moreover, this bachur was not known as a “machmir” (interested in satisfying as many halachic opinions as possible).
“In the building where this bachur will live,” began Rav Shach, “there are most likely tenants that subscribe to newspapers. Now, when this bachur will come home from Shacharis, he’ll see newspapers in their mailboxes, and the norm is that whoever wants can open these newspapers up and browse through them.
“What can I do to make sure this bachur won’t put his head into the news and out of the Gemara? He has to feel that he has exceptional importance, that a mind such as his belongs in Shas and poskim and must not be wasted on petty matters. If he views himself as one of the machmirim — he will live up to it and not waste his time. That’s what I wanted to do,” Rav Shach explained.
May we be zoche to recognize and reach our potential!