The past month has been filled with incredible conversations and classes, bringing out the energy of the month of Shvat. One of my rabbis spoke in class about how at this time, as we are transitioning from winter to spring, we don’t exactly see the process of change occurring. The roots beneath the ground are taking in the moisture from the rain to eventually blossom and bring life back to the bare branches. It can be tricky to recognize that, even when on the outside we feel stagnant and are not seeing results, there is a lot of change happening within us. No matter what, our roots are soaking in the nutrients of our surroundings - the challenge is to keep this hidden growth process in mind and maintain excitement for the end results, without negating the need for the “rough winters”.
In last week’s parsha, we see that the Jews sing with joy for the miracle of being brought out of Egypt. How is music correlated with acknowledging our inner-most feelings and why, of all things, did the Jews choose to sing their praises to G-d? They could’ve shouted praises or intensely whispered them, each individual having a personal moment with G-d.
“G-d is my might and my praise, and He was a salvation for me.”
When we think of singing out, we don’t often correlate it with desperation or pain. Rather, when we think of song, we connect it to joy - overcome with emotion, the Jews sang of their gratitude and of the wonders G-d did for them as a people. Even though the journey was difficult for each man, woman, and child, they knew that as a collective, the process was necessary to connect them as a people. Not only was G-d a salvation for “me”, for the individual, but to the entire people, now unifying themselves for G-d’s greater orchestration of the occurrences.
As we know, music can also be used as an expression of pain. Why did the Jews not cry out to G-d in song while they were still slaves? Could they not have been unified and come closer together through shared heartache, as we know tragedy often can connect communities?
Music has healing qualities that are deeply internal - chemicals are released in the brain that cause emotional, and even physical pain, to subside. Music does not take away the pain entirely, though, as we all know. The Jews were not promised at that moment that their lives would be perfect, and there was still tremendous loss in their gains. People were left behind in Egypt, they had no idea where they’d get food, or where they were meant to begin their lives.
Music is not always meant to be used as positive catharsis or in amazing circumstances. So too, growth is not always meant to be experienced during the most beautiful and comfortable seasons - both external and internal. It is sometimes the seasons in our lives that are the most difficult that our deepest expressions, whether through music or otherwise, are the most truthful and the most relatable. The Jewish people sang out in complete, overwhelming honesty - only after they had gone through the struggles to be able to be sincerely thankful to that extent.
Although the Jews waited to sing out to G-d with praises, it required a deeply traumatizing experience and complete trust in Him, to be able to express their most sincere gratitude. Just because the Jews were singing out in praise to G-d does not mean that there was not pain in their voices.
We never know what is happening beneath the surface, for ourselves, or for anyone else. But each moment of difficulty can be contributed to an accumulated thanksgiving - for without the “hidden nourishment” and seeing results after tremendous difficulty, answers would come so easily to us that we would have nothing to truly long for.
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