Packing Tuppim in the Dark: The Power of Women’s Song

This shabbat is named Shabbat Shira, for shirat hayam, the song of the sea, the moment in the book of Shemot where the sea splits and – az yashir Moshe – Moshe leads Bnei Yisrael in a song of hallel (praise) and hoda’a (gratitude). The torah presents a scene afterwards where Miriam takes a tof (like a tambourine type drum) and – vata’an lahem Miriam – she leads the women in their own response to the miracles. Even without getting into the content of each song, there is a key technical difference: Miriam and the women danced with a tof, while Moshe led the men in song alone.

This brings us to the classic question: where did the women get their tuppim? Bnei Yisrael were slaves just a few days ago, fleeing Egypt b’chipazon, in haste. Why take the time to pack their musical instruments? The Mekhilta D’Rabbi Yishmael (a halachic midrash on Sefer Shemot) famously answers that the righteous women of that generation were so muvtachim – so confident – that God would perform miracles for them, they prepared the tuppim while still in Egypt.

I want to suggest, though, that there’s more to this than just the women having a higher level of emunah (faith) or being particularly righteous. The extension of the Mekhilta is that the nature of Miriam’s song is fundamentally different to that of Moshe’s. Moshe’s song was a spontaneous reaction, a cathartic, celebratory release by the men upon their salvation. Maybe, at best, it was a spontaneous response to their liberation. Miriam’s song,  on the other hand, was premeditated. They packed their tuppim while still serving under Pharaoh, actively deciding, back in the darkness of Egypt, that there would be a reason to celebrate. In contemporary psychological terms we might call this visualisation, the process by which, by vividly imagining and preparing for a future success, someone can condition themself to achieve it.

I’m reminded here of Rav Hai Gaon’s explanation of the strange way we perform hallel at Seder Night, distinguishing between the k’riat (lit. reading of) hallel, the hallel we recite on various chagim the rest of the year, and shirat (lit. singing of) hallel, the spontaneous outburst of song we model at seder night. Moshe’s hallel was like that of the seder, spontaneous and immediate while Miriam’s was like that of the chagim, structured and prepared.

Perhaps the Torah brings us both types of celebration to show us that we need both in our lives. Sometimes we express our gratitude for salvation as it happens, spontaneous and immediate and sometimes we need to prepare our tuppim while still in darkness, visualising the redemption we trust will come.

Of course, it’s difficult to write about women celebrating liberation through song without thinking of the women of Iran today. A particularly moving video that recently went viral shows the singer Meli Imani and a guitarist, singing in the streets of Tehran in open defiance of the regime. Imani, like Miriam packing her tof, isn’t passively awaiting her liberation but preparing for it through song.

May we see the people of Iran experience their own redemption, bizchut (in the merit of) the righteous women of their generation.