The Song of the Future

Shabbat Shira and the Two Ways of Connecting to a Tzaddik

Parshat BeShalach is known as Shabbat Shira, the Shabbat of song, commemorating Shirat HaYam, the Song of the Sea. In Breslov tradition, this Shabbat carries a unique spiritual weight, tied directly to the relationship between the Tzaddik and his followers.

During the lifetime of Rebbe Nachman, there were two distinct ways his Chassidim connected to him. At certain appointed times—most notably Rosh Hashanah, Shabbat Chanukah, and Shavuot—the Chassidim would travel to be with Rebbe Nachman. Of these, Rosh Hashanah remains the central gathering even today, with thousands continuing the journey to Uman, where Rebbe Nachman is buried.

The second scenario was the reverse: Rebbe Nachman himself would travel to his Chassidim, visiting Jewish communities scattered across Ukraine several times a year. Two of these visits were fixed—Shabbat Shira and Shabbat Nachamu—with an additional visit taking place either in the summer or winter.

Reb Noson explains this dynamic in Likutey Halachot. Traveling to the Tzaddik represents an itaruta d’letata, an arousal from below. When a person has strength, initiative, and spiritual energy, he is expected to make the first move, to journey toward the Tzaddik in order to receive direction and elevation. But when a person is spiritually, emotionally, or mentally broken—so weakened that he cannot even take a step—then the Tzaddik comes to him. In such moments, the Tzaddik descends into the person’s place to lift him out of confinement and despair.

For this reason, Shabbat Shira remains a special time even after Rebbe Nachman’s passing. It is a moment when one can draw the light of the Tzaddik—wherever one is, in whatever state one finds oneself—without needing the strength to travel.

Shirat HaYam and the Power of Song

Shabbat Shira is named for the song itself. Shirat HaYam is recited daily as part of Pesukei DeZimra, but Chazal teach that when a person says it with kavanah and simcha, it carries the power to bring real salvation and miracles into one’s life.

The opening verse of the song reads:

Az yashir Moshe u’vnei Yisrael et ha’shirah ha’zot la’Hashem…

“Then Moshe and the Children of Israel sang this song to Hashem…”

At first glance, the verse seems straightforward. Yet Rashi points out a grammatical problem that opens the door to a much deeper understanding. The word yashir is written in the future tense—“will sing”—even though the event clearly took place in the past.

If the Torah had meant to say that Moshe sang at that moment, it should have used past tense. Why does the verse say Az yashir Moshe—“then Moshe will sing”?

Rashi, Grammar, and the Song That Has Not Yet Been Sung

Rashi explains that the Torah sometimes uses future tense to describe habitual or ongoing action. But that explanation does not work here. The splitting of the sea was a one-time event in history, not something recurring. Moshe was not “accustomed” to singing this song.

Rashi therefore brings two deeper explanations. First, the sages say that the extra yud in yashir hints that Moshe and the Jewish people thought to sing, and then they sang. But even this does not fully resolve the grammatical tension.

The final explanation Rashi brings is striking: this verse hints to the resurrection of the dead. Az yashir Moshe means that Moshe will sing again in the future—at the time of the final redemption. The song at the sea was not only a response to past salvation; it was a song drawn from the future, from a redemption that was not yet complete.

The Exodus from Egypt, for all its miracles, was not final. The Egyptians were drowned, but the Jewish people soon faced new struggles—complaints about water and food, spiritual failures, and ongoing prosecution in Heaven. Chazal describe how the angels argued: “Both these [the Egyptians] and those [the Israelites] are idol worshippers.” The Jews themselves had been steeped in Egyptian idolatry. Why should they be saved?

Moshe understood that the salvation at the sea could not be sustained by the present alone. To sing fully, to sing truthfully, the song had to be drawn from the future redemption, where everything would ultimately be clarified and repaired. That is why the Torah speaks in future tense.

Drawing Joy from the Future

This idea aligns precisely with Likutey Moharan Lesson 24, as explained by Reb Noson in Likutey Halachot, Birkat Hoda’ah #6. Rebbe Nachman teaches that the deepest and most enduring form of simcha is joy drawn from the future.

There are moments in life when a person cannot find joy in the present. Everything feels dark. Music does not uplift. Humor falls flat. One cannot find good points within oneself. Gratitude feels impossible because the suffering is overwhelming.

In such moments, Rebbe Nachman teaches that there is one remaining path: to connect to the future. To step outside the present, close one’s eyes, and attach oneself to the certainty that redemption will come. Evil will be judged. Effort and suffering in the service of Hashem will be rewarded. Everything will ultimately make sense.

If the future will be good—and one truly believes that it will—then despair in the present loses its grip.

This was the strength of Jews who – on the cattle train leading to the Auschwitz concentration camp – sang Ani Ma’amin even on the way to destruction. Detached from a hopeless present, they clung to a future redemption. That connection itself became a form of survival and consolation.

Rebbe Nachman goes further. In Lesson 250, he teaches that joy from the future is so powerful that it can be drawn back into the present. By fully attaching oneself to future redemption, one can carry its residue—its reshimu—back into daily life. That spark of future simcha becomes the key to present salvation.

As the verse in Yeshayahu says: Ki v’simcha tetze’u—with joy you will go out. When all paths seem blocked, joy itself becomes the way out.

The song at the Sea was not only a response to what had happened—it was a declaration of what would one day be

Drawing the Song from the Future

What, then, is the key? What is so remarkable is that this entire idea is already hinted to in the verse “Az yashir Moshe.” As we saw, Rashi is forced to bring the explanation of the Sages that yashir is written in the future tense. Az refers to the past—then, when they left Egypt—yet yashir Moshe literally means Moshe will sing. The song that was sung at the sea was not fully rooted in the present moment. It had to be drawn from the future.

Why was this necessary? Because the redemption at the Sea was not yet complete. Although the Egyptians were drowned, the Jewish people were still far from a final redemption. Soon after, they complained about water, complained about food, and later fell into the sin of the Golden Calf. The joy at the Sea was real, but it was fragile, surrounded by future difficulties.

Moreover, there was a serious prosecution against the Jewish people at that moment. Chazal tell us that the accusing angel said, “Halalu ovdei avodah zarah v’halalu ovdei avodah zarah”—both the Egyptians and the Jews were idol worshippers. If so, why should one be saved while the other is destroyed? The Jews themselves had worshipped idols in Egypt. On what merit, then, were they redeemed?

Moshe Rabbeinu understood that the salvation at the Sea was being drawn from a deeper source, from a different spiritual place—not from present merit, but from the future redemption. Because of this, he understood that even the song could not be complete unless it, too, was drawn from the future. That is why the Torah writes Az yashir Moshe—a song sung now, but rooted in what will be.

Az: Aleph and Zayin

If we look more deeply at the word az, we find an even richer meaning. Az is composed of two letters: Aleph and Zayin.

The letter Zayin has the numerical value of seven, corresponding to the seven days of the week. Time itself, as we experience it, is structured around this seven-day cycle. We receive a new Parshah every week, not every day or every month, because a week represents a meaningful unit of time—a pattern that can be observed, understood, and reflected upon. Day-to-day life is often too chaotic to interpret, but over the span of a week, patterns emerge. Thus, Zayin represents the structure of time as we live within it.

The letter Aleph, however, points beyond time. Reb Noson explains, based on Likutey Moharan Lesson 6 and his teachings in Hilchot Shabbat, that the Aleph is formed by a Yud above, a Yud below, and a diagonal line separating them. The upper Yud represents the Infinite Light, the light of Keter. The lower Yud represents the human being in this world. The line between them is a barrier—a necessary separation.

Kabbalah teaches that the Infinite Light cannot be accessed directly. If it were revealed without restraint, it would overwhelm and annihilate the receiver. Therefore, the Keter places a barrier. A person attempts to rise, is pushed back, feels blocked, frustrated, embarrassed, even ashamed. Rebbe Nachman teaches that the lower Yud represents precisely this experience: enduring humiliation, setbacks, and silence—yet not giving up. By remaining below, by accepting the barrier and continuing forward anyway, a person becomes worthy of receiving illumination from above.

Az as the Gateway to Yashir

This is why az becomes the gateway to yashir. When a person is trapped in darkness in the present—unable to find joy, gratitude, or strength—the only path forward is to draw from the future. The future redemption, the future clarity, the future joy become the source from which one sings now.

This is exactly what happened at the Sea. The Jewish people sang a song of redemption that was not yet fully realized, drawing light from what would one day be complete. Their salvation came not because the present was perfect, but because they connected themselves to what was destined to be.

Rebbe Nachman teaches that this principle applies to every individual. When a person cannot sing in the present, when sadness and despair dominate, the path of yashir—future song—becomes the key. A person connects to the future, finds hope there, rejoices in what will be, and then draws that joy back into the present.

As the Gemara teaches, a person sings only when he is happy. If so, the ability to sing now must come from a happiness that transcends the present moment. That happiness is found in the future.

Living with the Song of the Future

This is the deeper meaning of Az yashir Moshe. The song at the Sea was not only a response to what had happened—it was a declaration of what would one day be. By connecting to that future, the Jewish people were able to experience joy even in an incomplete redemption.

May we be zocheh, b’ezrat Hashem, to internalize this teaching: to accept the barriers, endure the setbacks, and continue forward without despair. Through the Aleph and the Zayin—through time and transcendence—we can learn to draw joy from the future and activate true simcha in the present.

And through that joy, may we merit our own redemption.

Shabbat shalom u’mevorach.

Meir Elkabas