A Song for Eternity
Shabbat is מקור הברכה, the source of all sanctity. It is the most sacred period of time, and, when we observe it properly, it endows us with kedushah and fills our homes with a special element of kedushah that endures forever.
A vivid example of this powerful impact of Shabbat is a story told by Rav Paysach Krohn of a Rabbi named Rabbi Yonah Lazar. In 1992, Rabbi Lazar left the Lakewood Yeshiva, where he had been learning, to lead a yeshiva in Kishinev, the capital of Moldova, a region in the former Soviet Union. A department of Agudas Yisrael worked to reestablish various yeshivot which existed before the Holocaust, and the yeshiva in Kishinev was one such institution. Rabbi Lazar went with another young Rabbi to rebuild the yeshiva and work to rejuvenate Jewish life in the city of Kishinev. Thank G-d, their efforts were successful, and numerous young men and women from the city went on to study in higher level institutions abroad.
The highlight for the yeshiva’s students was the Friday night service, which was very moving and inspirational. The two young Rabbis taught the boys a number of Shabbat songs to make the experience exciting, including a Yiddish song composed by Rav Levi Yitzchak of Berditchev. The words of the song, translated into English, are, “If I had the strength, I would go in the streets and say out loud: Shabbat! Holy Shabbat!” The song is sung in a slow, haunting tune, and is customarily sung on “Shabbat marches” as part of the effort to spread awareness of the importance and value of Shabbat observance. The boys in Kishinev were electrified by this song. The Rabbis had the words translated into Russian to make it easier for the students to sing, and it became a weekly highlight, uplifting and inspiring the students.
A number of years later, in December, 1993, Rabbi Lazar and his wife returned to the U.S. and moved to Los Angeles, where Rabbi Lazar worked as a 7th grade teacher. Every Rosh Hodesh, he would tell his students stories of his experiences in Kishinev. One of the students’ grandfather, Rabbi Aron Twerski, heard about Rabbi Lazar’s experiences, and contacted him to inform him about his upcoming trip to Kishinev. Rabbi Twerski had ancestors buried in the city, and he wanted to visit their gravesites. He contacted Rabbi Lazar to offer to bring anything he wished to send to the yeshiva.
Sometime later, Rabbi Lazar opened a book he had of memoirs from pre-war Kishinev, wondering if any mention is made of Rabbi Twerski’s ancestors. He came across a passage which depicted the unique warm, serene atmosphere on Friday night in Kishinev. The author of the memoir wrote that many of the laymen in the city would make a point of praying on Friday night in the yeshiva in order to hear the students’ spirited, soulful singing. He noted in particular the stirring experience of hearing Zecharya the watchmaker leading a rendition of Rav Levi Yitzchak’s song. It was at this moment, the author wrote, that everybody truly felt the sanctity of Shabbat. Anyone who has not witnessed this sight, he went so far to say, has not tasted the beautiful flavor of Shabbat.
Rabbi Lazar was stunned. The song which he had taught to his students in Kishinev, and which stirred their souls and inspired them with the kedushah of Shabbat, is the same song which marked the highlight of the Shabbat experience in that exact spot, in the yeshiva of Kishinev, some 60 years earlier. The kedushah generated by the singing of Rav Levi Yitzchak’s song in pre-war Kishinev never left that site. It remained there for decades, and eventually had a profound impact, igniting the souls of young men who had not received a religious upbringing.
This is the eternal, everlasting impact of the sanctity of Shabbat.
This is true of kedushah generally. Rav Matisyahu Salomon told a remarkable story he heard of the Hazon Ish, who was once walking with a young Rabbi in Bnei -Brak when he suddenly stopped and smiled. The young Rabbi asked him why he was smiling, and the Hazon Ish explained that at that very spot, two students of the Ponevizh yeshiva were talking about Torah matters the previous Erev Shabbat, and he sensed the kedushah in that very spot.
This impact of kedushah is real, and is something we can all bring to our homes.
Many people have the custom when moving into a new home to have a חינוך הבית, a gathering where certain chapters of Mishnah, Zohar and other religious texts are read. The basis for this custom is the comment of the Zohar that if, during a house’s construction, the builders spoke inappropriately or had inappropriate thoughts, this generates a certain element of tum’ah (impurity) in the house. This is why the Torah warns that after Beneh Yisrael entered the Land of Israel, some houses might be stricken with tzara’at (a kind of “leprosy” that manifests itself on the walls of homes) which would require them to be dismantled. Since these houses were built by idolaters, they were contaminated with tum’ah and needed to be destroyed. Therefore, in order to counteract any possible impure effect of the people who built the new home, it became customary to recite certain Torah texts upon moving into a new home.
Every Shabbat, we have the precious opportunity to inject our homes with a powerful and eternal element of kedushah. By observing Shabbat the way it is supposed to be observed, by sharing words of Torah and singing zemirot, we can bring holiness to the home, where it will remain and have a profound impact for many generations to come.