Don’t Throw in the Towel

“And now, write for yourselves this song, and teach it to Bnei Yisrael…”

(Devarim 31:19)

The Gemara (Sanhedrin 21b) explains this is the mitzvah of writing a sefer Torah. So why refer to it as a song? Rav Yaakov Tzvi Mecklenburg (Haksav V’hakabbalah) writes that the word shir (song), is connected to the word yashar (straight). If the notes in a song are not “straight,” the music will be cacophonous. Torah encapsulates this concept of yashar, requiring us to be trustworthy and honest. (Rabbi Oizer Alport, Parsha Potpourri)

This past summer we tried to play the yearly game of Musical Homes in Israel. My kids wanted to go anywhere, so long as it wasn’t home. I found a tzimmer not far from Yerushalayim that boasted a private pool. The pictures the owner sent were stunning and we excitedly paid for a week’s vacation. Packing was a chore. Food, clothes, books, toys… I wasn’t sure why we needed to get away from home when we were bringing so much of home with us. But all the technicalities fell away as we drove into the rugged hills outside Yerushalayim. The sky seemed to shine more brightly; the image of that bright blue pool was beckoning.

The Smag (Mitzvas Asei 74) writes that we must be honest in our interactions with others, above and beyond the strict letter of the law, so when Hashem sends Mashiach to redeem us, the nations of the world will acknowledge that we’re worthy, trustworthy people. Otherwise, they’d question why Hashem chose a nation of thieves and cheaters.

We arrived at a villa surrounded by a tall iron fence. My first inkling that something was wrong was when we opened the gate to a yard filled with garbage. Then I saw the pool. Instead of the indigo of the photo, the water was a sickly algae green with dead insects and leaves floating on top.

Swallowing hard, I opened the front door. The floor was gritty, the counters dusty, the refrigerator leaking. While the photos did show the home, it was clear they must’ve been taken a long time before. Gingerly, I opened a kitchen cabinet… only to escape outside when I saw the dead bugs on the shelf.

“We can’t stay here,” I gasped to my husband who was cheerfully unpacking the trunk. “There are dead roa—”