Haazinu is written as a song. A song can’t be understood by hearing only one note. To appreciate it, you need the whole melody. And once it’s inside you, every lyric pulls you back to a moment, a place, a memory.

That’s what Haazinu does:

“Remember the days of old, understand the years of generation after generation. Ask your father and he will tell you, your elders and they will say to you.” (Devarim 32:7)

On the last day of his life, Moshe delivered these words — a song that carries the story of our people, from Hashem’s kindness in the desert, through all of Jewish history, and all the way to the days of Mashiach.

We are commanded to tell our children what Hashem has done for us. Because if you only look at life in snapshots, nothing makes sense. But when you hear history as one flowing song, you see that every note is perfectly placed.

At the end of Gemara Makkot, when Rabbi Akiva and his colleagues saw a fox on Har HaBayit, the others cried while he laughed. They were hearing one lyric; he was hearing the whole song.

If you want to know how any story will end, just look at the Torah and Jewish history. In Mitzrayim, when it seemed impossible, Hashem performed miracles and split the sea. In Shushan, when Haman’s decree was sealed, He flipped the story in an instant. In every generation, when nations rose to destroy us, Hashem saved us and made us stronger.

Sheb’chol dor vador omdim aleinu l’chaloteinu, v’HaKadosh Baruch Hu matzileinu miyadam.

That is the pattern of our history — the song of Haazinu — and it shows us how the future will unfold.

A foundation of bitachon is this: If Hashem has always come through for you, why would He stop now? He put food on your table and a roof over your head until today. Why believe this month will be different? So too with our nation. If Hashem always saved us, why think He won’t again? Pharaoh, Nevuchadnezzar, Haman, Rome — our enemies today are no different. Look back at the record — the Composer has never missed a beat.

At the end of Haazinu, Moshe declares: “The Torah is not empty for you.” There are no filler notes. If a pasuk feels out of place, if a chapter of history feels cruel or confusing, the deficiency is not in the song — it’s in our ability to hear it. That’s why we keep learning Torah, to hear more and more of the harmony, and why we pass it to our children, so they too can learn to sing along.

When Mashiach comes, the full song will play in its original beauty. We’ll see how every painful note and every sweet one blended into the perfect melody. We’ll laugh with joy, just as Rabbi Akiva did:

“Az yemaleh schok pinu, u’leshoneinu rina.”

But we don’t need to wait. We can live like Rabbi Akiva now — with unshakable bitachon that Hashem always comes through, that every note is leading us to geulah, and that the best is yet to come.

Let’s start singing that song today. And may we sing it together this year, in the rebuilt Yerushalayim.