Timeless Torah

After having successfully transmitted 612 commandments, Moses issues the final mitzvah. What will be Judaism’s closing charge? What is the ultimate rule? “Write down for yourselves this song, and teach it to the people of Israel; put it in their mouths, that this song may be my witness within the people of Israel.”
At first glance, the “song” referred to is simply the chapter immediately following, “Listen, O heavens, and I will speak; Hear, O earth, the words of My mouth.” Our Sages however understood it differently; interpreting it as mitzvah #613: to write a Sefer Torah. As the Talmud puts it, “Though a parent left us a scroll of Torah, it is still our duty to write one ourselves.” (Sanhedrin 21b)
This reading of the text is based on several nuances. First, the phrase, “Write down for yourselves,” is construed as a mandate for all Jews, not just Moses or his generation (Ibn Ezra). Second, the passage continues, “Moses finished writing the words of this Torah until their end.” This clearly implies that Moses meant the Torah as a whole, not just the song in chapter 32. The Talmud (Nedarim 38a) further points to the words, “This song shall be...as a witness,” as testimonial that the “song” referenced means the entire Torah.
Moses himself wrote not one, but thirteen Torah scrolls. To this day, Torahs are still written as in ancient times; by hand, on parchment, using a quill. In a religion devoid of idolatrous images, the Torah scroll is the closest thing in Judaism to a sacred relic. Nonetheless, the Torah is less like an object than a person. In its presence we stand as if it were a king. On Simchat Torah we dance with it as if it were a bride. If it is, G-d forbid, damaged or destroyed we bury it as if it were a human; we mourn as if we had lost a relative.
Still, one wonders why is Torah compared to a “song”? Two nineteenth century scholars offered illuminating explanations. The Netziv (Rabbi Naftali Zvi Yehudah Berlin) suggests that Torah as a whole should be read as a poetic song. To be sure, most of the Torah is written in prose, but it has characteristics of poetry. It is allusive rather than explicit; leaving unsaid more than is said. Like poetry, it hints at deeper reservoirs of meaning, sometimes by the use of an unusual word or sentence construction. So while prose carries its meaning on the surface, Torah does not.
For example, contrast the narrative style of Torah with that of the Greek classics. The latter uses detailed descriptions so that each scene is set out pictorially. In contradistinction, biblical narrative is spare and understated. Take the story of the binding of Isaac: we do not know what the main characters look like, what they are feeling, what they are wearing, or what landscapes they are passing through. The decisive points of the narrative alone are emphasized, what lies between is non-existent.
Rabbi Yechiel Michal Epstein (author of the Aruch ha-Shulchan) notes that while the Rabbinic literature is full of arguments, nonetheless, “These and those are the words of the living G-d.” Hence the Torah is like a “song” which becomes more beautiful when many disparate voices are woven into one harmony.
Perhaps we can suggest a third rationale. The concluding mitzvah is more than writing a Book; it’s about each generation’s duty to renew the Torah for itself. It is hardly accidental that Moses delivered the 613th commandment on the last day of his life.
Torah is more than a Book of words; it is a song. Similarly, Judaism addresses not only the logical mind, it speaks the language of the soul. That is why music is central to our religious experience. We do not pray; we davven, meaning we sing the words we direct toward heaven. Nor do we read the Torah; we chant the weekly portion, each word with its own cantillation. Even Rabbinical texts are never merely studied; they are intoned with a particular melody known to all students of Talmud. Each time and text has its specific tune. The same prayer may be sung differently, depending on whether it is part of the weekday service, a Shabbat, or one of the High Holy Days. Music is the map of the Jewish spirit, and each spiritual experience has its own distinctive tone.
There is something poetic about this being the last mitzvah. It is as if G-d was saying to the Israelites, “Though the Torah was given only once, it must be received over and over again by each generation as we each strive to recapture the original Song heard at Sinai.”
Interestingly enough, when Jews speak they often argue, when they sing it is in synchronization, as the Israelites did at the Red Sea. Indeed, whenever the Jew aspires to be more spiritual he breaks into song; as if the melody itself seeks to liberate the vocalist from his self-centeredness, and the words from their finite meanings. A conceivable explanation: as mentioned, music is the language of the soul, and at the level of the soul, Jews are amazingly united with one another and with G-d.
Ultimately, the Torah is G-d’s libretto, and we, the Jewish people, are His choir. So just in time for Rosh Hashana let us all pick up our music sheets, I mean our Bibles, and come together in prayerful song.