Music, Language of the Soul
Family Edition

The Summary

This is an abridged version of the essay Music, Language of the Soul, written by Rabbi Sacks in 2012.

For the first time since their departure from Egypt, Bnai Yisrael do something together. They sing. Rashi says that the Shechinah rested on them and miraculously, the same words came into everyone’s minds at the same time. That is why this week is called Shabbat Shirah, the Sabbath of Song. But what is the place of song in Judaism?

There is an inner connection between music and the spirit. When our words need to be elevated and the soul longs to break free of the gravitational pull of the earth, it transforms into song. So when we seek to express or evoke emotion, we turn to melody. Devorah (see our Haftara section) sings after the victory over Sisera’s army. Hannah sings when she has a child. When Shaul was depressed, David would play for him and his spirit would be restored. David himself was known as the “sweet singer of Israel”. Elisha called for a harpist to play so that the prophetic spirit could rest upon him. The Leviim sang in the Temple. Every day, we begin Shacharit with Pesukei de-Zimra, the ‘Verses of Song’ with their magnificent crescendo, in which instruments and the human voice combine to sing God’s praises.

Mystics go further and speak of the song of the universe, what Pythagoras called ‘the music of the spheres’. This is what Psalm 19 means when it says, ‘The heavens declare the glory of God... Their music carries throughout the earth, their words to the end of the world.’ 

Beneath the silence, audible only to the inner ear, creation sings to its Creator. So, when we pray, we do not read: we sing. When we engage with sacred texts, we do not recite: we chant. In Judaism every text and every time has its own specific melody. There are different tunes for Shacharit, 

Mincha, and Maariv. There are different melodies and moods for the tefillot for a weekday, Shabbat, the shalosh regalim Pesach, Shavuot, and Succot, and for the Yamim Noraim, Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur. There are different tunes for different texts. There is one kind of cantillation for Torah, another for the Haftara, and yet another for Ketuvim, the Writings, especially the five Megillot. There is a particular chant for studying the texts of the written Torah, for studying Mishna and Gemara. So by music alone we can tell what kind of day it is and what kind of text is being used. There is a map of holy words and it is written in melodies and songs.

Faith is more like music than like science. Science analyses, but music integrates. Just as music connects note to note, faith connects episode to episode, life to life, age to age in a timeless melody that breaks into time. God is the composer and librettist. We are each called on to be voices in the choir, singers of God’s song. Faith teaches us to hear the music beneath the noise.

So music is a signal of transcendence.    

The philosopher and musician Roger Scruton writes that it is “an encounter with the pure subject, released from the world of objects, and moving in obedience to the laws of freedom alone.” He quotes Rilke: “Words still go softly out towards the unsayable / And music, always new, from palpitating stones / builds in useless space its godly home.” 

The history of the Jewish spirit is written in its songs. The words do not change, but each generation needs its own melodies.

And so, our generation needs new songs so that we too can sing joyously to God as our ancestors did at that moment of transfiguration when they crossed the Red Sea and emerged, the other side, free at last. When the soul sings, the spirit soars.

---

Rabbi Sacks writes, “Music has the extraordinary power to evoke emotion. The Kol Nidrei prayer with which Yom Kippur begins is not really a prayer at all. It is a dry legal formula for the annulment of vows. There can be little doubt that it is its ancient, haunting melody that has given it its hold over the Jewish imagination. It is hard to hear those notes and not feel that you are in the presence of God...in the company of Jews of all places and times as they pleaded with heaven for forgiveness. 

“Nor can you sit on Tisha b’Av reading Eichah, with its own unique cantillation, and not feel the tears of Jews through the ages as they suffered for their faith and wept as they remembered what they had lost, the pain as fresh as it was the day the Temple was destroyed. Words without music are like a body without a soul.”

Music can pierce through isolation, trauma, and even severe memory loss, connecting people across time and circumstance. While words engage the mind, music opens pathways to spiritual understanding.

• Consider one prayer or song from our tefillot that brings up strong emotions for you. What makes you feel the way you do?

Sarah’s guitar sat in the corner of her Tel Aviv apartment, gathering dust beneath a thin ray of afternoon sun. For six years it had stood there, its strings untuned, waiting for a “maybe someday” that never came. She couldn’t bring herself to give it away, though it remained untouched.

Then one morning, while scrolling through her phone, she saw a news post that stopped her mid-coffee: “Seeking guitars for soldiers in the north.” There was a photo of IDF soldiers on break, one pretending to play an invisible guitar while others laughed. The post mentioned Tal, who used to lead his unit in songs but had left his guitar behind in Be’er Sheva when called up urgently for reserve duty.

Sarah looked at her guitar in the corner, seeing all her imagined future sessions dissolve into something more meaningful: a group of tired soldiers finding moments of peace in melody.

That evening, she tuned each guitar string so it rang true. Then she cleaned the dusty case, and added a note: “My guitar has been quiet for too long. Play it well, and may its music bring light to dark moments.”

Two weeks later, she received a photo: Tal, surrounded by his unit, her guitar cradled in his arms, mid-song. In the picture, you couldn’t see the war, only the smiles. The message read: “Your guitar found its voice again. Thank you.”

The guitar that had stood silent for so long now sang nightly, its music carrying across the Golan and weaving together the voices of soldiers as they sang songs of thanks, and faith in God and in Israel. 

• What purpose can music play in happy times, sad times, and even times of war? 
• How does music strike a different note depending on the occasion that it is played?

---

Shoftim 4:4-5:31 (Ashkenazim)
Shoftim 5:1-31 (Sephardim)
Isaiah 19:1-25 (Yemenites)

The book of Judges (Shoftim) recounts the story of Devorah, a prophetess and judge of Israel, and Barak, her military leader.    

Devorah summons Barak to lead an army against Yavin, the Canaanite king, and his commander Sisera, who oppress Israel with 900 iron chariots. Barak agrees but insists Devorah accompany him. Together they defeat Sisera’s forces at Mount Tavor, aided by Divine intervention when rain falls, rendering Sisera’s powerful chariots useless, the wheels caught in the mud.

Sisera flees on foot and seeks refuge in Yael’s tent. While he sleeps, Yael kills Sisera by driving a tent peg through his temple, fulfilling Devorah’s prophecy that Israel’s victory would be brought about by a woman.

Devorah and Barak sing a triumphant song (Shoftim 5), praising God for the victory, the bravery of Yael, and Israel’s deliverance after 20 years of oppression. Israel then enjoys 40 years of peace.

• Can you think of any other songs in Tanach?

This week’s Haftara is packed with great stories. In fact, this is the longest Haftara of the year. 

The link between the Parsha and Haftara is probably one of the most obvious that we will find. In both texts, Israel is suffering under an oppressive ruler and it has become increasingly difficult to bear. At this low point, Hashem brings a saviour who defeats the oppressive rule. After the defeat of the Egyptians (and Paroh), and the defeat of Yavin (and Sisera) respectively, Moshe and Devorah both sing songs of praise.

Rabbi Sacks wrote: “Our generation needs new songs so that we too can sing joyously to God as our ancestors did at that moment of transfiguration when they crossed the Red Sea and emerged, the other side, free at last. When the soul sings, the spirit soars.”

There is however a significant difference between the two songs here. Moshe’s song is mainly about the future, whilst Devorah’s looks backwards. Moshe sings before the giving of the Torah, whereas Devorah is remembering the most significant moment in Jewish history. As Jews we turn to the past for inspiration and to the future for hope.

The book of Judges (Shoftim) narrates the turbulent period between Yehoshua’s conquest of Canaan and the establishment of Israel’s monarchy. It describes a cyclical pattern of Israel’s behaviour: the people abandon God for idolatry, then suffer oppression by neighbouring nations, causing them to cry out for deliverance, resulting in a rescue through leaders called ‘judges’, whom God raises to deliver them.

The judges written about include military leaders and prophets like Devorah, Gideon, and Shimshon. Each judge helps Israel for a time (although Devorah is the only one who also sits as a judge as well as a leader) but after each peaceful interlude, the people consistently fall back into sin after the leader’s death.      

This cycle highlights the consequences of disobedience to God’s covenant and the chaos of a leaderless society, summarised by the often-repeated refrain: “In those days, there was no king in Israel; everyone did what was right in their own eyes.” Through these stories, the book of Shoftim underscores the need for faithful leadership and dependence on God, foreshadowing Israel’s eventual turn to monarchy.