By Dr. Marsha Bryan Edelman

 
The current Hebrew month is referred to as MarHeshvan, the “bitter” month of Heshvan.  Ostensibly, Heshvan has a “chip on its shoulder” because it includes no holidays – a fate made even more disagreeable because it falls in the shadow of Tishre, a month filled with the grandeur of the High Holy Days, and the joyous celebrations of Sukkot, Shmini Atzeret and Simchat Torah.
 
Those of us whose lives are impacted by the Jewish calendar may be initially grateful for the routine that returns in the month of Heshvan, but routine quickly settles into disappointment as we begin to focus on the long winter ahead.  Fortunately, though, we have a weekly “taste of the world to come” – Shabbat.  Shabbat is immediately recognizable as a day of rest, recalling God’s relaxation after creating the world, and as such, it is also a day of complete joy.  We are commanded to put aside personal mourning on the Sabbath, and even public fasts that would ordinarily fall on that day are pushed off so that Shabbat can be enjoyed with the same feasting and celebration that greets other happy occasions. (Only the fast of Yom Kippur, the “Sabbath of Sabbaths” is permitted to intrude on the usual observances of Shabbat.)
 
Our ancient sages understood music to be an important element in any joyous celebration.  The Temple service included elaborate ceremonies accompanied by Levitical choirs and a string orchestra, and the Talmud waxes rhapsodic in its description of the glorious sounds that were part of the daily rituals.  When the Temple was destroyed, though, the rabbis proscribed public performances of music as a sign of our communal mourning.  Only the obligation to rejoice with a bride and groom (or to celebrate the dedication of a new synagogue or Torah scroll, admittedly rare events) relaxed the ban on music.  This attitude prevailed for many hundreds of years, and largely accounts for the near-total absence of any compositions in the Jewish community to parallel those that were created for the Church through the 18th century.
 
But the 18th century also saw the emergence of Hasidism, and with it came a relaxation of this severe attitude toward music.  Hasidic philosophy includes the notion that one can best resist the yetzer hara, the evil inclination that tempts us all, with a joyous heart.  Moreover, in their desire to achieve dveykut, a perfect union with God, the Hasidim created the nig’n, a wordless melody that, when sung with sincere emotion, has the power to communicate all the secrets of the heart.  Hasidic thought says that every person has infinite potential, and every melody, no matter its origin, has a spark of the Divine within it that can be used to reach God.  As a “taste of the world to come,” the Sabbath is already imbued with a joyous spirit, and singing on Shabbat helps to intensify that joy.
 
The Jewish community has developed many paths to the Divine, but wherever Jews have lived, there has been music.  Let us be inspired, this month, and every month, to enhance our celebration of Shabbat with song.  If we are successful, the joy of the Sabbath will stay with us, like a pleasant tune that we can continue to hum throughout the week. 

Menucha V’simcha

This traditional Hasidic song specifically celebrates the rest and the joy that are implicit in the observance of Shabbat.

Ki Eshmera

“If I guard the Sabbath, God will me; it is a sign between us forever.”  This Spanish-flavored song offers a Sephardic view of the joys of Shabbat.