And Moses came and spoke all the words of this song into the ears of the people he and Hoshea the son of Nun. (Devarim 32:44)

This parasha is mostly devoted to the shira (song or poem) of Ha'azinu, an epic and prophetic shira which combines harsh criticism with abundant hope to lay out the story of the People Israel's future. The previous parasha describes the process of the shira's transcription:

And now, write for yourselves this shira, and teach it to the Children of Israel. Place it into their mouths. (Devarim 31:19)

Some think this verse refers solely to Shirat Ha'azinu ¹ but the Talmud allows it broader scope. According to the Gemara, the term shira refers to the entire Torah. This interpretation implies that every Israelite is obliged to write a Torah scroll:²

Rava said: Even if someone's ancestors have bequeathed him a Torah scroll, he is commanded to write his own, for it is said, And now, write for yourselves this shira.

Other sources also make the connection between Torah and shira, for example, the midrash from Hagiga:³

Resh Lakish said: Anyone who engages in Torah in this world, which is compared to night – the Holy One, blessed be He, will draw a thread of grace over him in the world to come, which is compared to day, for it is said: And at night His shira is with me (Psalms 42:9).

Various midrashim have chosen to take hold of shira's colorful thread and weave it into the fabric of the Torah. What hides behind this fascinating choice?

In the introduction to his Ha'Amek Davar, the Netziv MiVolozhin (Rabbi Naftali Tzvi Yehuda Berlin) clarifies the connection between Torah and shira by analyzing the difference between shira and prose. He claims that shira is not simple and straightforward, but rather multifaceted and allusive. It includes artful lacunae which invite the reader to deep investigation of its mysterious words.

Shira's structure, rhythm and literary lacunae are not mere decorations; rather, they are among shira's most essential characteristics and they create its secret charm. We walk the winding paths of shira, struggling for comprehension, but its atmosphere of mystery remains and exegesis will never uncover the full depth of its meaning.

True, our Torah – both written and oral – is essentially prophetic and thus incomparable to any literary genre. However, it is still called shira. Like shira, the Torah contains refined messages and nuances which are expressed through special rhythms and structures. We can study it through careful analysis its words, but its further meanings must be sought in a life of Torah practice. Study of the Torah in isolation from its observance can bring understanding of its commandments, but in such a situation the Torah loses its mysterious charm and its details lose their beauty. Many feel that it is possible to be accomplished in Torah without participating in the natural rhythms of Torah life found in the world of halakhah and the commandments. There are no crisply formulated rejoinders to this approach; regular language cannot delve deeply enough. It can be pointed out, however, that isolation from the practice of Torah can keep a student from appreciating many of its fine nuances whose qualities cannot be measured. A person involved in halakhic practice lives beneath a canopy of "awe and love" which offers him opportunities for fuller attentiveness to the fine points of the Torah.

In our generation the Torah is gradually losing another of its shira aspects. The Torah's lyricism expresses its allusive and hidden side, which lies beyond explicit instructions. This vital aspect of Torah is severely diminished by new Torah publications whose style misses the Torah's poetic character. Such works are written in a summary and curt style reminiscent of ideological tracts - they are formulated in unambiguous terms and conclude with a great exclamation mark. When halakhic or philosophical ideas are presented in this fashion thought is frozen and the generation of fertile and varied discussion becomes difficult. Such writing is founded upon a fundamental misunderstanding of the proper poetic character of Torah texts.

R. Yechiel Michael Epstein, the author of Arukh HaShulhan, made an illuminating remark on this problem:

Those who genuinely understand know that all the debates among the Tannaim, Amoraim, Gaonim, and halakhic decisors are actually the words of the Living God, and they all contain aspects that affect halakhah. In fact, this [tradition of debate] is the glory of our holy and pure Torah. The entire Torah is called shira, and the glory of shir is that it is made up of different voices, and that is the essence of melody. One who wanders around the sea of Torah will observe different melodies [sung] by all of the different voices.

The need for scholars to offer clear and unambiguous answers to the burning questions of our generation is understandable. That approach, however, may also damage the delicate fabric of the Torah's shira.

Just as it is difficult to translate poetry's secrets into other languages, so too, the study of Torah looses something of its charm and uniqueness when it takes place outside of its natural language. When we listen to the Torah's allusive and hidden melody we create a song of love between the Creator and His creations.