We have become so accustomed to the title that we no longer recognize how unusual it is. However, Rav Yitzchok, the rebbe of Vorka, noticed. He asked the Chiddushei Harim why this Shabbos is referred to by part of its parsha. Even Parshas Yisro, which contains the most significant event in our history, Mattan Torah, is not called Shabbos Mattan Torah. Only this week is universally known as Shabbos Shirah, because Parshas Beshalach includes the song we sang after our miraculous crossing of the Yam Suf.
We could add to his question that the Shabbos is not called Shabbos Yetzias Mitzrayim or even Shabbos Krias Yam Suf. Nor is it called based on the incredible riches we received at the Yam Suf, known as bizas hayom, or Shabbos Milchemes Amaleik, all of which are in the parsha. It is called only Shabbos Shirah.
The first Gerrer Rebbe answered cryptically, saying that it is because even in the Torah itself, the writing is different from the rest of the text, as it is written poetically, as a shirah.
One of the obvious questions that remains is that Parshas Haazinu is also written in the same manner, but we don’t refer to the entire Shabbos as Shabbos Haazinu. Of course, every Shabbos is associated with the sedra that will be read in the Torah, but it is not defined by that reading.
Furthermore, Rav Shmuel of Shinava, in his Remasayim Tzofim, explains the Chiddushei Harim’s words in a fresh way. He makes it deeply personal for each of us. He teaches that the body of every Jew is like the parchment of the Torah, and his soul is the letters and names of Hashem. “If the shirah changes the actual manuscript of the Torah,” he explains, “then the body of every Jew can change as well, so that we will be able to reach the level of singing a song of praise to Hashem.”
Apparently, this interpretation didn’t come out of nowhere. Rav Shmuel was privileged to witness the Chiddushei Harim on Shabbos Shirah. He describes that lofty sight as beginning already from leil Shabbos, when the rebbe was dancing and singing at Kabbolas Shabbos. The Chiddushei Harim would announce that every Yid should feel the joy of the shirah and offer gratitude and praise to Hashem. Although we have not been privy to this sublime scene, we can attempt to explore some of the depths of the shirah, which we can only try to imagine.
One way to attempt to relate to this opportunity on Shabbos Shirah is based on the teachings of two great gedolim. The Maharal (commentary to the Siddur, Birkas Kohanim) states that the blessings recited by the Kohanim, and those recited by the baal tefillah during Shacharis and Mincha, consist of three pesukim. The first has three words, the second has five, and the third has seven. He explains that the word boruch, which we usually understand to mean a blessing, actually represents hispashtus, which means growth or expansion. Rav Chaim Volozhiner (Nefesh Hachaim) also teaches that the word boruch at the beginning of every brocha reflects our praise of Hashem as the Source of all increase and augmentation in our lives.
We can derive a practical application of the shirah to our lives from a story told by Rav Goel Elkarif. A woman who had been childless for thirteen years became pregnant, and nine months later, she gave birth on a Shabbos to a healthy baby boy. Of course, the entire family was overjoyed, but the new mother’s own mother, who had agreed to make the arrangements, suddenly became frazzled and strained, trying to plan a Shabbos bris, with all the attendant problems of lodging and many other issues. “Where will I put everyone? How is this going to happen?” she wondered and worried. However, after a day or two of this, she stopped her concerns. “Is this the way to thank the Ribono Shel Olam?” she admonished herself. “For thirteen years, I davened, cried, and begged for this moment. This is not the time to complain or think negatively.”
Just moments later, the phone began to ring with more good news. Neighbors were offering their homes for guests, someone had a large room to hold meals for the entire Shabbos, and finally, money suddenly appeared to pay for the joyous event.
The yeitzer hara doesn’t want us to utter praises and words of gratitude to Hashem. He knows how this adds to the love between the Creator and us, so he always tries his best to disturb and ruin our simchos.
The Mechilta (Beshalach 2) reveals that at the Yam Suf, Klal Yisrael was divided into four groups. One gave up immediately when they saw the churning sea in front of them and the Egyptian army behind them. The second said, “Let’s make peace with them. We will return to Mitzrayim and all will be well.” The third declared, “No, let’s wage war. Even if we die, at least we will perish with dignity.” The fourth said quietly, “It’s time to daven to Hashem.” Strangely, Moshe Rabbeinu told even this group to be silent.
The question arises: Why didn’t Moshe want us to daven?
The Ozherover Rebbe (Be’er Moshe) answers that Hashem had even greater plans for us than mere survival. Hashem wanted us all to become nevi’im; we would all perceive and be able to point to Hashem. We would eat the fruits of Gan Eden as we crossed, we would receive the bizas hayom, the booty of the Red Sea, and we would watch the destruction of our enemy. If we had simply davened for our basic survival, all of this would have been lost. We had suffered in Mitzrayim for hundreds of years. We had believed Moshe Rabbeinu and trusted him that we would leave Mitzrayim in glory. If the Soton had his way, all of this would have been gone. The lesson is that if we trust Hashem to do what is best, He will do much more for us than we could have even hoped for.
We know from Chazal that at least two of our most difficult enterprises are similar to Krias Yam Suf. One is parnassah (Pesochim 118a) and the other is finding a shidduch (Sotah 2a). Two questions are asked about these analogies. First of all, how could Chazal say that anything is difficult for Hashem? Secondly, why these two endeavors? One answer is that, of course, Hashem can do anything. However, when human beings who have free will are involved, Hashem is, so to speak, unable to do anything if we don’t cooperate. We must trust Him completely and put ourselves entirely into His hands.
A chossid visited Rav Yisroel, the Chortkover Rebbe, to tell him some news. “Rebbe,” he related excitedly, “I just bought a ticket to travel on a new ship called the Titanic to go to America.”
The rebbe was unimpressed. “Why do you wish to go to America?” he inquired.
“The rebbe knows,” he responded, “that I have had difficulties finding parnassah. They say that in America, one can become very wealthy.”
The rebbe seemed to answer coldly, “Give my regards to the G-d of America.”
When the hapless chossid asked for an explanation of the rebbe’s cryptic words, he answered, “If it is parnassah that you are looking for, that comes from Hashem, and He can give it to you anywhere He chooses.”
The chossid understood the rebbe’s message, sold the ticket, and the rest is sad history for many, but life-saving for the chossid.
Chazal are telling us that Hashem will take care of everything, but we can’t be faint of heart or lose faith when the going gets tough. That is the Soton and his alter ego, the yeitzer hara, talking. Although we cannot sing a full-throated song until the end – ashirah laShem ki gomal alai – we cannot give up along the way either. The path to an eternal song is to believe in Hashem and in His faithful servants, the tzaddikim of every generation.
My rebbi, Rav Yitzchok Hutner (Maamorei Pachad Yitzchok, Pesach 69:9, pages 249-250), explains the essence of the shirah as being the words “zeh Keili ve’anveihu – This is my G-d, and I will build Him a sanctuary” (Shemos 15:2). The rosh yeshiva notes that “this is the first time that Knesses Yisroel spoke of itself in the first person… When a child is born, he doesn’t yet have a sense of self. It is only later, with the advent of daas, that he is capable of self-recognition and can therefore also declare the majesty of the Creator.”
We can now begin to understand why this Shabbos is called Shabbos Shirah. It is not our birth, but our realization of who we are, which is even more important than our existence. In fact, as Rav Hutner concludes, “It is only then that we can survive.”
Shabbos Shirah is indeed not just another Shabbos, as wonderful as that always is. Haazinu, too, is a shirah, but this is the song of our lives. It is the opportunity to know who we are as a nation and as individuals. Like the young girl Chazal mention, who knew Hashem enough to declare, “This is my G-d,” we, too, can perceive Hashem and all He has done for us. May this lead to much more kindness from our Creator, Who is our Father. As happened three millennia ago, may we see the complete destruction of our enemies and the coming of Moshiach Tzidkeinu bimeheirah beyomeinu.
