Biblical Women and Music: A Love Story

Music is a gateway to one of the most transcendent experiences we can have in Olam Hazeh. Its language speaks not only to the body, but to the soul. In fact, it is only at the time of Moshiach that we will hear the final, eighth note of the octave – a musical note which does not yet exist in our physical realm. Every seven notes we start again from the beginning, confined to the laws of nature. But one day, the music will continue upwards, hitting that Divine eighth note. Throughout Tanach, we meet holy women who understood the deep spiritual underpinnings of music and expressed mourning, joy and gratitude through the powerful vehicle of song. 

Perhaps the quintessential feminine musician in Tanach is Serach, the daughter of Asher. The Sefer Hayashar records that following the dramatic reunion between Yosef and his brothers, the sons of Yaakov decided to appoint Serach as messenger to their father. She was chosen to deliver the incredibly moving, life-restoring words to Yaakov, words which continue to be sung even today: ‘Od Yosef Chai.’ With Serach’s sweet and gentle voice accompanying her harp, she delivered her saintly grandfather Yaakov the poignant message. His son was still alive. The Midrash Eishet Chayil ascribes to Serach the fitting tribute ‘pia patcha bechachma, vetorat chessed al leshona.’ ‘Her mouth opened with wisdom, and the Torah of kindness [was] on her lips.’ Serach’s song was more than uttered lyrics or notes strung on a harp; it was a song composed with wisdom and refinement. A message only she was entrusted to deliver.

Another woman who embodies shira is the courageous sister of Moshe: Miriam, the woman of faith. Miriam’s song began long before she picked up a tambourine by the parted waters of the sea. In the depths of Egyptian slavery, Miriam started composing the melody of geula. She stood up to her father, criticizing him for separating from his wife – and encouraged the Jewish people to continue building families, despite the painful exile. When her parents were forced to hide baby Moshe in the Nile, it was Miriam who watched him from afar – holding steadfast to her prophecy that a redeemer was coming. Miriam was the leader of the women, the nashim tzidkaniyot, who brought their tambourines and drums into exile with them, already envisioning a beautiful redemption. And finally, vta’an Miriam, Miriam’s song reached its crescendo and together, the women dance and sing and celebrate the geula. A geula whose sheet music was embedded in the galut of mitzrayim.

David Hamelech, the devoted servant of Hashem and masterful composer of Tehillim wrote in his final Tehillim “kol haneshama tehalel kah,” all of my soul should praise Hashem. The mefarshim tell us to read the word “neshama” soul as “neshima” breath. Each breath, each feeling, each emotion we experience can be channeled to Hashem. With drums, with cymbals, with a harp, with dancing – each up and down of our lives can be expressed to Hashem through its own medium. 

Two women in Navi have their own shira: Devora and Chana. Shirat Devora is a song of victory. It is a praise of Hashem for delivering Sisera and the Canaanites into the hands of the Jewish people and above all, a military-focused song. In contrast, Shirat Chana is a deeply personal song about Chana’s individual salvation: being blessed with a son. While Devora’s song is infused with a spirituality directed at the nation, namely, that it is Hashem who conquers enemies, Chana’s is about individual circumstance. Chana’s transformation from a barren woman into a joyful mother; a personal celebration. She acknowledges that it is Hashem Who conducts the ups and downs of our lives, “Hashem morish umaashir” – it is Hashem who impoverishes and enriches. Two so very different women, two so very different songs, yet both are based on the most powerful symphony: Hashem’s guiding Hand.

Rabbi Jonathan Sacks wrote that Jewish life is closely bound with music. He explains that if we journey through the Jewish year, we experience an incredible variety of tunes. Shacharit, mincha and maariv all have their own tones and tenors, each festival has its own additions and harmonies. The haunting melody of Megilat Eicha contrasting with the general leining of the Torah, which itself differs from the weekly haftara. A man who learns Gemara hums a certain tune, a child learning Chumash chants another. Each text has its own tune. 

If this is true of physical tunes, it is certainly true of the emotional tunes of our lives. David Hamelech, the devoted servant of Hashem and masterful composer of Tehillim wrote in his final Tehillim “kol haneshama tehalel kah,” all of my soul should praise Hashem. The mefarshim tell us to read the word “neshama” soul as “neshima” breath. Each breath, each feeling, each emotion we experience can be channeled to Hashem. With drums, with cymbals, with a harp, with dancing – each up and down of our lives can be expressed to Hashem through its own medium. 

As women, perhaps we will create a song to lift a mourner, like Serach. Maybe we will conduct a song of strength, like Miriam. Or compose a song of salvation, whether personal or national, like the songs of Devora and Chana. Our experiences as Jewish women; our journey through dating, marriage, building and raising a family, bring many highs and lows and we can take the seemingly discordant notes of our lives and compose our own song to the Ultimate Conductor.