We have reached the end. Egypt is no longer a threat. Their economy, in ruins. Their army, gone. The Jewish people, free. Truly and utterly free.
And then, we sing.
Song — that is what happens next. And we know that it happens because the Torah emphasises that fact with one tiny word: אָז — “then.”
Now, we take this word for granted. But honestly, it’s strange. Indeed, upon first reading it seems totally unnecessary. With a simple stroke of my virtual pen, I could easily rewrite this sentence and we would never know that anything is missing:
וַיָּשִׁר מֹשֶׁה
And Moshe sang
In other words, remove the word אָז and replace it with a simple ו (vav). What is known as vav hachibur (the connecting vav).
After all, this is the standard way that the Torah continues a narrative. It happens all the time, line after line, story after story.
And we need to look no further than the previous lines for a clear example. Let’s start with verse 27 (chapter 14):
וַיֵּט֩ מֹשֶׁ֨ה אֶת־יָד֜וֹ עַל־הַיָּ֗ם וַיָּ֨שׇׁב הַיָּ֜ם לִפְנ֥וֹת בֹּ֙קֶר֙ לְאֵ֣יתָנ֔וֹ וּמִצְרַ֖יִם נָסִ֣ים לִקְרָאת֑וֹ וַיְנַעֵ֧ר יְהֹוָ֛ה אֶת־מִצְרַ֖יִם בְּת֥וֹךְ הַיָּֽם׃
And Moshe stretched out his hand over the sea, and the sea returned as morning approached to its full strength, and Mitzrayim fled toward it, and Hashem shook Mitzrayim into the midst of the sea.
The English “and” is the literal translation of the Hebrew ו (vav). But honestly, when translating, we don’t necessarily translate that vav:
Moshe stretched out his hand over the sea and the sea returned as morning approached to its full strength. Mitzrayim fled toward it and Hashem shook Mitzrayim into the midst of the sea.
Two vavs translated, two ignored.
On the other hand, theoretically speaking, G-d could have inserted the word אָז — “then” — here:
אָז יֵּט֩ מֹשֶׁ֨ה אֶת־יָד֜וֹ עַל־הַיָּ֗ם וכו׳
Then Moshe stretched out his hand over the sea...
Indeed, I imagine we could start from the very beginning of the Chumash and find countless times when the word אָז — “then” — would work perfectly well in the narrative flow:
בְּרֵאשִׁית בָּרָא אֱלֹקִים אֵת הַשָּׁמַיִם וְאֵת הָאָרֶץ. וְהָאָרֶץ הָיְתָה תֹהוּ וָבֹהוּ וְחֹשֶׁךְ עַל־פְּנֵי תְהוֹם... אָז יֹּאמֶר אֱלֹקִים יְהִי אוֹר
In the beginning G-d created the heavens and the earth. And the earth was formless and void, and darkness was over the face of the deep... Then G-d said, let there be light...
In short, the word אָז — “then” — could go almost anywhere, but seems to be needed nowhere.
And yet, here it is, in our verse. Prominently displayed.
Which means that it particularly belongs here. At this moment. After the miracle of Yam Suf.
Why? Why here? What is it telling us that we otherwise would not know?
That is our first question. There is one more.
Second Question
Second word, second question.
But first, a short introduction. There is an English word — conjugation. Some of us know what it means, some of us have no idea. But for all of us, it’s worth taking a moment and discussing it.
We’ll start by discussing the idea of a root. Words, we are told, have roots. Of course, they don’t literally have roots — roots belong to plant life. Trees have roots. Carrots are roots.
The tree and/or plant grow out of the root.
What about in Biblical Hebrew? Do Hebrew words grow out of Hebrew roots?
To answer that, let’s get a working hypothesis of a root. For me, a root is a concept. An abstract idea. Or, better yet, a flexible idea.
For example: ש-י-ר. The root of our word. It relates to the concept or idea of singing — combining melody and words.
Now let’s ask some particular questions. We’ll start with “who.”
Who is singing? I.e., who is combining melody and words?
Am I singing? Perhaps you are singing? Or maybe both of us together.
How about another question — when?
When did I (or is it you) sing?
Now, there are many other questions that a language needs to be able to answer. But these are two of the most common. Which may be a problem for us as we continue.
But for now, let’s run with these two and we’ll deal with any problems that come up as they arise.
For now, let’s just note the following — languages need methods for answering these types of questions. And that is where conjugation comes in.
Conjugating a root is the means by which the Hebrew language answers these implied questions. And in our particular verse, it tells us two vital pieces of information.
One, Moshe sang the song. Yes, I know that it says that Moshe and the Jewish people sang the song — but evidently Bnei Yisrael are secondary to Moshe.
Moshe sang — and the Jewish people joined in.
Or, Moshe sang — and taught it to the Jewish people.
Not sure. The key point is that Moshe is the essential doer here. He is primary, the Jewish people are secondary.
Two, Moshe hasn’t actually yet sung the song.
And here we get to our second question.
The (seeming) literal translation of this word is “Moshe will sing.” Not “Moshe sang,” but “Moshe will sing”:
יָשִׁיר מֹשֶׁה
Moshe will sing
That’s what it means to add a yud (י) to the root ש-י-ר. It answers both who and when at one time.
Who? He. That’s what yud means as a stand-alone prefix (i.e., without a vav being added to the end of the word).
Who is he? It is Moshe. That’s what our third word in our verse tells us:
אָ֣ז יָשִֽׁיר־מֹשֶׁה֩
Then Moshe will sing
And when did he (i.e., Moshe) sing? In the future. I.e.:
אָ֣ז יָשִֽׁיר־מֹשֶׁה֩
Then Moshe will sing
Now, our first response may be to say that this makes no sense. But that should not be our first response. Rather, we first should take it at face value and see if we can make sense of it.
What would it mean for the verse to say that “Then Moshe will sing”?
Well, for starters, it would mean that they didn’t sing this song at this moment. I.e., at the moment when G-d saved them from essentially certain destruction and they saw all the Egyptians drown.
That, after all, is the context of this song — as the previous lines detail:
וַיּ֨וֹשַׁע יְהֹוָ֜ה בַּיּ֥וֹם הַה֛וּא אֶת־יִשְׂרָאֵ֖ל מִיַּ֣ד מִצְרָ֑יִם וַיַּ֤רְא יִשְׂרָאֵל֙ אֶת־מִצְרַ֔יִם מֵ֖ת עַל־שְׂפַ֥ת הַיָּֽם׃ וַיַּ֨רְא יִשְׂרָאֵ֜ל אֶת־הַיָּ֣ד הַגְּדֹלָ֗ה אֲשֶׁ֨ר עָשָׂ֤ה יְהֹוָה֙ בְּמִצְרַ֔יִם וַיִּֽירְא֥וּ הָעָ֖ם אֶת־יְהֹוָ֑ה וַֽיַּאֲמִ֙ינוּ֙ בַּֽיהֹוָ֔ה וּבְמֹשֶׁ֖ה עַבְדּֽוֹ׃
And Y-K-V-K saved Yisrael on that day from the hand of Mitzrayim, and Yisrael saw Mitzrayim dead on the bank of the sea. And Yisrael saw the great hand that Y-K-V-K did with Mitzrayim, and the nation feared Y-K-V-K, and they believed in Y-K-V-K and in Moshe His servant.
If we take the future tense seriously, then that means that despite this tremendous miracle, this was not the time that Moshe and the Jewish people sang this song.
Even though they saw the Egyptians dead.
Even though they saw the great hand of Hashem.
Even though they started to fear Hashem.
Even though they now believed in Hashem and in His servant Moshe.
No — they didn’t sing the song. Not yet. But then, at some future point, they will.
OK. That would be quite unexpected. But if we want to take this conjugation seriously, then evidently that is what the verse would be telling us.
Except — if that’s what it means, what’s the “then”? What is אָז referring to?
If “then” is referring to the immediate context — and if it is telling me that now, in this particular situation, Moshe (and the Jewish people) sang this song — then that would make sense.
At this point in the narrative. At this point in Jewish history. At this particular salvation, Moshe and the Jewish people sang this song.
In other words, if I want to take the meaning of the word “then” seriously, then I need to understand that they sang this song right now, at this moment.
Not in the future.
So, I have an internal contradiction.
If I take the word “then” seriously, it means right now.
If I take “will” seriously, it means in the future.
Something must give. And it seems the best giving candidate is the future tense. It’s hard to argue that “then,” at this moment, it was determined or decided that Moshe will in the future sing this song.
After all, when else did they sing this song? Is there any pasuk anywhere in Tanach that indicates that finally Moshe (and the Jewish people) sang this song?
Is there any future reference to this song?
In other words, let’s say that at this moment, Moshe set in his mind that he would some day sing this song. Perhaps he wrote the song now — in the context of this miracle — but did not yet sing it. Perhaps he was waiting for some future miracle or some future event.
Then, at that future event he would sing this song.
That’s a really intriguing idea. The only problem is there is no reference to that future event. There is no record, no indication that Moshe sang this song again.
So it seems that “will” will have to go.
It seems that it has to be now. At this moment Moshe sang this song.
But then, let’s be honest. That’s not what is written. The word is written as it is written — and that is in the future tense. I can’t just magically declare it to be the past tense simply because it’s inconvenient to have it in the future tense.
So, we’re stuck.
And we seemingly have only one of two options.
Option #1: See if there is something that we are missing in the grammar.
Option #2: See if there is something hidden in the future that we are missing.
In other words, either we find a way to say that the future tense is not actually the future tense.
Or that the future tense is the future tense, but there is something in Moshe’s future that we missed. Some song he is destined to sing, but has not yet sung.
Personally speaking, I plan to choose both options.
Option #2: Something Hidden in the Future
I’m going to share a secret with you — I don’t have time to fully and properly answer these questions. Yom Tov is coming too soon.
So I will write from memory what I have so far, and I encourage all of you to look further into this over Yom Tov.
Let’s start with the second option. There is a Gemara in Sanhedrin (91b) that says from this very pasuk — from the future tense of יָשִׁיר — we learn about תְּחִיַּת הַמֵּתִים, the resurrection of the dead:
תַּנְיָא, אָמַר רַבִּי מֵאִיר: מִנַּיִן לִתְחִיַּת הַמֵּתִים מִן הַתּוֹרָה? שֶׁנֶּאֱמַר: ״אָז יָשִׁיר מֹשֶׁה וּבְנֵי יִשְׂרָאֵל אֶת הַשִּׁירָה הַזֹּאת לַה׳״. ״שָׁר״ לֹא נֶאֱמַר, אֶלָּא ״יָשִׁיר״ – מִכָּאן לִתְחִיַּית הַמֵּתִים מִן הַתּוֹרָה.
It is taught in a Baraisa: Rabbi Meir said: From where is the resurrection of the dead derived from the Torah? As it is stated: “Then Moshe and Bnei Yisrael will sing this song to Y-K-V-K.” It does not say שָׁר — “sang.” Rather, it says יָשִׁיר — “will sing.” From here we derive that the resurrection of the dead is from the Torah.
Rabbi Meir is taking the future tense literally. There will be a time when Moshe Rabbeinu himself will come back to life and sing this song. The Gemara is telling us: you were right to be bothered by the future tense. It is the future tense. And there is a future.
But I have an idea — a thought to be considered and explored. I would like to suggest that there is another literal meaning of the future tense, one which is the background of this Gemara.
Let us remember the future that was as well as the future that was supposed to be.
In less than three months’ time, the Jewish people will be receiving the Torah at Har Sinai. There has not yet been a Chet HaEgel. There has not yet been a Chet HaMeraglim. Moshe has not yet been told that he cannot enter Eretz Yisrael. The plan — the l’chatchilah plan — is to get the Torah and to march straight into Eretz Yisrael.
And what was supposed to happen then? The nations would flee or fall. Moshe would build the Beis HaMikdash. The final redemption would have already been here.
My guess is that at this moment, Moshe had in mind that he was going to sing this song at the building of that Beis HaMikdash. He knew the full plan. He knew what was supposed to be. And he was going to connect this moment — the miracle at Yam Suf — to that moment — the building of G-d’s house. We may not know today exactly what that connection is, but Moshe saw it.
That was what was supposed to be.
But that was not what happened. We sinned. Moshe was prevented from entering Eretz Yisrael. And so we had a first Beis HaMikdash and then a second. Please G-d, some day we will have a third. And then Moshe will come back and sing this song at that third Beis HaMikdash.
That is Rabbi Meir. The thought that entered Moshe’s mind is not going to disappear. Moshe understands that one way or another, he will be singing this song at the final Beis HaMikdash. It just depends on us: will it be the first and only Beis HaMikdash, or the third one — with Techiyas HaMeisim?
That is the l’chatchilah understanding of “Then Moshe will sing.” The original plan was that Moshe would take the Jewish people into Eretz Yisrael and sing it then. What happened instead is that the singing got pushed to the future — to Techiyas HaMeisim, when Moshe will rise and sing this song at the full and final Beis HaMikdash.
Option #1: Something Hidden in the Grammar
On the other hand, even according to the reading above, I still want to say that they sang this song at that time, right there at the sea. That seems clear from the pesukim. After all, Miriam herself comes out afterwards and sings the song with the women. So it’s not that Moshe wrote the song now with the intention of only reciting it later. It was rather that he also intended to recite it later.
And in that sense, perhaps our word יָשִׁיר can be understood slightly differently.
Let’s go back to our world of roots and conjugations. As I hinted at before, there are more than two questions that a language needs to answer. One is “who?” Another is “when?” But even within the world of “when,” we have sub-questions. Did he do it one time, or many? Did he actually do it, or did he just plan on doing it? Did he intend to do it? Language has to cover a lot of different scenarios if it’s going to be sophisticated and helpful.
And with that said, I want to reference — without, unfortunately, the ability to fully explore right now — two other possible understandings of our conjugation.
The first we find in Sefer Iyov. Iyov 1:5 says:
כָּכָה יַעֲשֶׂה אִיּוֹב כׇּל הַיָּמִים
Thus Iyov would do, all the days.
The word יַעֲשֶׂה — “would do” — is the same conjugation as our יָשִׁיר. Third person, future tense. But it doesn’t mean Iyov will do this at some point in the future. It means he would do this — over and over, on a regular basis. The future tense here indicates an ongoing state, something that happens not just now but tomorrow and next week and next month.
Perhaps that is what אָז יָשִׁיר מֹשֶׁה means. Then, at this moment, Moshe began singing this song — and it became a song he would sing again and again. Perhaps he already brought it into the regular prayers of the Jewish people.
But there’s another possibility, and this is the one that Rashi brings. Rashi, whom I encourage everybody to look into in detail, says the following:
אָז כְּשֶׁרָאָה הַנֵּס עָלָה בְלִבּוֹ שֶׁיָּשִׁיר שִׁירָה
Then — when he saw the miracle — it arose in his heart that he would sing a song.
Rashi is saying that the same conjugation, the same tense, has this idea of intention. Then, at this moment, Moshe resolved in his heart to sing this song. And so he did — as the pasuk continues: וַיֹּאמְרוּ לֵאמֹר אָשִׁירָה לַה׳ — “and they said as follows: I will sing to Y-K-V-K.” First came the intention, then came the act.
Rashi brings several other verses that have the same grammatical structure — אָז יְדַבֵּר יְהוֹשֻׁעַ (Yehoshua 10:12), וּבַיִת יַעֲשֶׂה לְבַת פַּרְעֹה (Melachim I 7:8) — and in each case, the future tense indicates not “he will do” but “he purposed in his heart to do.” I don’t have time to go through those right now, but I encourage everybody to look at that Rashi and look up the sources he brings and see the pattern.
And this actually fits quite nicely with the Gemara in Sanhedrin and our earlier explanation. Perhaps both things are happening at once. Moshe is singing the song now — but at this very moment, looking at this miracle, it entered his mind that he was going to sing this song again in the future, at the building of the Beis HaMikdash.
The point is this: the same conjugation can sometimes have different understandings depending on the context, just like the same word can sometimes have multiple meanings. We cannot be locked into just one explanation of a conjugation, because it might limit us too much in our ability to understand what the Torah is saying. Even if there is a primary or more common usage, it doesn’t mean there aren’t variations that we need to be sensitive to.
What About “Then”?
So now let’s get to our final question.
אָז\u200E — “then” — indicates that something happened right now. At this moment, Moshe sang this song and the Jewish people followed.
And this raises another question. Why is it that only now we sing a song?
Why not, for example, after Makkas Bechoros — after the killing of all the firstborn? Wasn’t that a great time to sing? Freedom! You’re leaving Egypt! You’ve been enslaved in the most brutal way for who knows how long. They gave you no respite. They tortured you. They wouldn’t let you go for a moment. And now they’re kicking you out — they can’t get you out quick enough — and they’re giving you all sorts of stuff. Isn’t that a great time to sing a song?
Indeed, as far as I know, G-d hadn’t yet told Moshe to go back toward the Yam Suf, that there was going to be one more confrontation. I don’t know if Moshe knew, until this moment, that there was going to be a Krias Yam Suf. Maybe he did, maybe he didn’t. But even so — isn’t Makkas Bechoros a great time for שִׁיר?
Or how about the first מַכָּה? G-d’s fighting on our behalf already. The Mitzrim are being struck. Maybe some song back then. Something. I see that G-d sees what happened to us. He’s already judging the Mitzrim, already revealing their crimes. Some joy, some song, some celebration. Something.
Why only now?
I have a few ideas, but the one I want to share right now is one that I read in the Or HaChaim HaKadosh. What is the immediate verse right before ours? It says that the Jewish people — not just that they saw the יָד הַגְּדוֹלָה of Hashem — but that they had יִרְאָה — they feared Hashem. Not fear — awe. And then: they had אֱמוּנָה — they believed in Hashem and in Moshe His servant.
You know the difference between fear and awe?
Let me take a detour to explain.
Imagine you’re in a spaceship and all of a sudden the computer malfunctions and starts taking you directly toward the sun. And there’s no way to override it. You would be filled with fear of the sun. You know how powerful it is. You know what it can do to you. That’s fear.
Now let’s take that same sun and look at it in a different way.
Imagine a place a mile away from you. Now imagine building a bonfire out of wood — a fire so large that you can feel its heat a full mile away. How much wood do you think you need for such a fire? How big would it have to be?
If that’s too close, make it a thousand miles. Make it on the other side of the earth if you want. Just try to picture how much wood you would have to use to build one fire so big that you can feel it from that distance.
Whatever number you have in mind — now imagine that you have to keep that fire going for a whole day. How much wood do you need now?
Now imagine not just one day, but every day. Day after day, year after year, going back from the very beginning of the earth all the way into the future. How much wood would you need?
Now picture the sun.
The sun is not one mile away. It’s not a thousand miles away. It’s not twelve thousand miles away. It’s 93 million miles away. And it’s not just that I can feel it where I happen to be standing. My entire city, my entire country, the entire continent, the entire hemisphere, the entire earth can feel its rays. It might be colder at night, but there is still some heat. It’s not absolute zero. And in the day — particularly a hot day — the heat is unmistakable. And this happens every single day without stop.
Imagine how powerful the sun is.
Now imagine that the sun is a small star. And they say there are about 100 billion stars in an average galaxy. And there are about 100 billion galaxies.
Imagine how much power there is in the universe.
Now imagine the One who created all of that.
That is yirah of awe. That is what the Jewish people felt at Yam Suf. They were filled with awe of Hashem unlike anything they had experienced before — despite all the Makkos, including Makkas Bechoros.
But they didn’t just have awe of Hashem. They had אֱמוּנָה. In Hashem. In Moshe His servant. They believed in Him. They trusted Him. They were loyal to Him.
Says the Or HaChaim HaKadosh — at least as I would like to understand him — now that the Jewish people had reached that מַדְרֵגָה, now that they had awe of Hashem and they were truly loyal to Him, now they could sing this song.
It’s not that they couldn’t have sung earlier. It’s that they weren’t ready to sing earlier. They hadn’t reached that state of awe and emunah yet. Moshe could have written this song any time. But he needed us. Just like he couldn’t go into Eretz Yisrael if we weren’t ready — we, the Jewish people, had to be on a certain level for this song to be sung.
So “then” — at that moment — when we finally achieved that level of yirah and emunah — Moshe sang this song.
And “then” — at that moment — Moshe said in his heart: this is the song I am going to sing when we build the Beis HaMikdash.