In all truth, I was wondering whether to write about this topic or not, not because it isn’t an important topic, but because I don’t want to be misunderstood or accused of being not with the times, Heaven forbid.
I was also wary of writing about this topic because I am afraid that nothing will change. Chazal teach us that just as it is a mitzvah to say something that will be listened to, it is also a mitzvah to refrain from saying something that will not be listened to.
What made me reconsider, however, was an email that I received. I decided that even if a small percentage of the population would get chizuk, that alone would make it worthwhile. I also feel that if there is any tzibbur that will be strengthened and inspired by these words, it is the distinguished Yated readership.
Just Asking?
What was the email? Someone recently sent me a song with its lyrics. I don’t know who wrote the words or who composed the niggun, but just listening to it was very jarring. Let me explain.
Usually, when we speak to our children and express our aspirations for them, we bentch them that they should be like Ephraim and Menashe, or we aspire that they should emulate this tzaddik, that rosh yeshiva, this rov, that rebbe, or perhaps a distinguished zaide or great-grandfather. That is the way parents have always fervently bentched their children.
The song in question, however, expresses aspirations that a child be like this or that entertainer, while listing the ostensible qualities of each entertainer. Now, many entertainers are wonderful people — as are many electricians, locksmiths, plumbers, and newspaper or magazine writers. Still, it is rare that Yidden should aspire to be like one of these…
We have always been taught to aspire to be ehrliche Yidden, talmidei chachomim, Yidden whose sole desire is to create a nachas ruach for Hashem.
When I saw the lyrics and heard the song, I wondered: Would a father or mother, when they bentch their children on Erev Yom Kippur while wearing their kittel and preparing to go to shul, really express their most fervent hope that the child should be like this or that entertainer?
As my dear friend and colleague, Rabbi Mordechai Kamenetzky, would say, “Just saying — or just asking…”
From Eating Treif to Singing Racheim Bechasdecha
Last week, an important asifa of chizuk was held in Lakewood for mesivta hanhalah members. At that asifa, Rav Dovid Breslauer, rosh kollel in South Fallsburg, addressed the assemblage.
In his address, he related a story about Rav Shlomo Freifeld, the founding rosh yeshiva of Yeshiva Sh’or Yoshuv. Not long after Rav Shlomo’s passing, the story was first told in The Jewish Observer by Rabbi Hillel Belsky. He wrote that many years ago, Rav Shlomo taught eighth grade in a certain school in a certain city. The clientele of that school came from a very varied public. In general, Yiddishkeit in the 1950s, when this story took place, was struggling.
It so happened that during the lunch break, Rav Shlomo looked out the window of the school and, to his horror, noticed students of his — kids in his class — walking out of “that restaurant.”
What was “that restaurant”? That restaurant was not kosher.
What does a rebbi do when he sees such a thing? How should he confront his students?
When the boys returned to class, Rav Shlomo silently distributed zemiros booklets to each child and began singing the niggun “Racheim bechasdecha al amcha tzureinu.”
He sang the song once, twice, three times — over and over, with tremendous feeling. The students joined him in inspired song.
Finally, one talmid got up and said, “Rebbi, if I felt this way all the time, I would never eat treif!”
Rav Breslauer concluded this story with a sobering thought: “How many of our talmidim today would be able to say that a niggun prevented them from sinning?”
Indeed, how many even have the sensitivity to a true Yiddishe niggun to be influenced by its power? How many have hearts that are not farshtupped, so clogged with the rubbish that passes for songs today — hearts that can actually feel an authentic niggun that breaks through the clutter?
Of course, I am not talking about all new compositions. There are some wonderful ones, but there are so many others…
If a Niggun Can Prevent One from Sinning…
Now for another story, one told to me by the protagonist himself, that transpired at the Philadelphia Yeshiva many years ago.
The person who told me this story happened to be the gabbai in the yeshiva. One day, he was called over by the rosh yeshiva, Rav Elya Svei. From the look on Rav Elya’s face, it was clear that he was very concerned about something.
He said to the gabbai, “I hear that the bochurim are singing a new style of songs at the Shabbos seudos. What is this new style? Can you perhaps sing one of the songs to me so that I can understand?”
This bochur, who was musically inclined, felt very uncomfortable. It was embarrassing to sing a song to the rosh yeshiva, but if the rosh yeshiva asked, that is what he had to do.
The song in question was sung to the words “Hashem hoshia hamelech yaaneinu b’yom koreinu.”
Rav Elya listened. By the time the song was over, his face was even more serious. He said, “How can you have a taam in these words of davening after you sing them like that?”
Then Rav Elya said something even more frightening. At that time, the gabbai explained, “We were seeing the first seedlings of bochurim losing their cheishek for Yiddishkeit and slackening in their observance.”
Rav Elya said, “I see bochurim today becoming lax in their observance, something we haven’t seen until recently. I think it has to do with listening to these kinds of niggunim.”
The Power of a Niggun
Rav Elya was teaching that a niggun is extremely powerful.
Neginah goes straight to the heart. It has the ability to make a person refrain from doing an aveirah, as we see in the story with Rav Freifeld. On the flip side, it has the power to completely farshtupp — to clog the heart and the arteries of kedusha — so that after hearing one of those niggunim, it becomes extremely difficult for a dovor shebekedusha to penetrate.
We, as parents, rabbeim, and teachers, and as bochurim and Bais Yaakov girls, must upgrade our awareness of the power of neginah and its transformative impact on our neshamos. We need to be vigilant about what our children and talmidim are hearing and singing 24/7.
We also need to understand that just because a singer or entertainer is frum and has a nice Jewish name does not mean that his music is all that kosher.
Knowing What Is Treif and What Is Kosher
Let me conclude with a true story that I remember from my youth in Toronto. There was a caterer there who, sadly, was not a shomer Shabbos himself, but who did have a hechsher from the local vaad hakashrus.
At some point, people began talking about him, and some did not want to eat his food because he was not a shomer Shabbos. He placed an ad in one of the ostensibly Jewish local papers that read: “I may be treif, but my food is strictly kosher!”
I think we can say the opposite when it comes to many songs. The person singing them may be a shomer Shabbos — he may be kosher — but his music might be treif.
Just saying…
