The Melody of Hesitation

Sometimes the hardest part of leadership is not building something great, but trusting others to carry it forward.

The Melody of the Torah

Everybody knows the feeling of hesitation. The tendency—when facing difficult choices—to hold back and wait before jumping into a big decision. 

It is striking to discover that this emotion appears in the Torah as well—not once, but four different times. And the connection between those moments is not found in the words themselves, but in something more hidden: the cantillation marks of the Torah.

These marks, often called trope, are in effect the Torah’s ancient musical notes—the unique system that tells the reader how each word is to be chanted. In the book of Deuteronomy, Moses refers to the Torah as a “song”: “Now write for yourselves this song” (Deuteronomy 31:19). From that point on, the Jewish people developed a tradition of reading the Torah with melody.

Over the generations, two main traditions of cantillation developed: one from the Land of Israel and one from Babylonia. But for more than a thousand years now, the system of cantillation has been fairly uniform throughout the Jewish world. In addition, each of these musical signs was given a name; every note has its own title.

But these marks do more than provide the melody. They also serve as punctuation. Where does a verse begin, and where does it end? After all, in a Torah scroll the words are written in an almost unbroken flow, with no punctuation marks at all, aside from a few spaces in certain places. The melody helps us understand the meaning of the verse. And that is why the more accurate name is not simply “notes,” but “accents” or “inflections”: the melody does not only sing the text—it explains it.

The Shalshelet

One of the rare cantillation marks in the Torah is called the shalshelet. It is a long note, and part of the melody circles back on itself, which is why it is called a shalshelet—a chain, something linked together. In the Five Books of Moses, this note appears only four times. That itself suggests that the four cases are connected.

The first time it appears is in Genesis, in the story of Lot. Lot was Abraham’s nephew. As Abraham became wealthy, Lot became wealthy with him. And then Lot made a fateful decision: he moved to Sodom, a busy and prosperous city, full of economic opportunity. But as the standard of living rose, the people became selfish and hard-hearted. They refused to give charity, to the point that kindness itself was pushed outside the law.

Lot was not troubled enough by any of this to leave. He settled there, rose to a position of leadership, and became a judge in the city. His daughters married local men. Little by little, he was absorbed into the life of Sodom and became one of its people in every sense.

Then one day, two angels came to his home and told him that G-d was about to destroy the city, and that he had to leave immediately. Lot now faced the most difficult moment of his life. He found it terribly hard to walk away from the new life he had built for himself and his family in Sodom.

The Torah describes that moment of inner struggle in a single word: “And he lingered” (Genesis 19:16). On that word—“and he lingered”—appears the shalshelet. It signals Lot’s deep hesitation. He was torn. But the angels did not give him much time to think. They seized him by the hand, led him out of the city, and saved him.

The second time the shalshelet appears is also in Genesis, this time in the story of Abraham’s servant Eliezer. Abraham sends him on a difficult mission: to travel to Aram Naharaim and find a wife for Isaac.

Eliezer, too, faced an inner conflict. On the verse usually translated, “Perhaps the woman will not follow me,” Rashi notes that the word can also be read as “to me,” and explains that Eliezer had a daughter of his own and was hoping for an opening—some reason Abraham might decide to turn to him and have Isaac marry his daughter (Genesis 24:39, Rashi). Eliezer wanted to become part of Abraham’s family. He wanted his own descendants to be joined to Abraham’s. But Abraham made clear that Isaac had to marry someone from his own family.

So when Eliezer went out to find a wife for Isaac, he was pulled in two directions. On the one hand, he wanted his mission to succeed. On the other hand, he knew that if it did, his own personal hope would come to an end. He prayed for success, but it was not a simple prayer. It came with a quiet struggle in his heart.

That is why the shalshelet appears on the first word of his prayer: “And he said: O Lord, G-d of my master Abraham, grant me success this day” (Genesis 24:12). The note captures that inner hesitation. Eliezer is praying sincerely—but not without conflict.

The third case also appears in Genesis, this time in the story of Joseph. Joseph had been sold by his brothers and brought down to Egypt as a slave in the house of Potiphar, the chief of Pharaoh’s guards. Other than Pharaoh himself, Potiphar was among the most powerful men in Egypt. Fortunately for Joseph, Potiphar trusted him and eventually placed the whole household under his care. Then Potiphar’s wife became attracted to Joseph and tried, day after day, to seduce him.

Here too, Joseph faced a painful inner struggle.

On the one hand, he had been sold by his own brothers, who hated him and did not want him as part of the family. Now he was in Egypt, and from every outward point of view, Egypt seemed to be his future. In fact, that is exactly where his future would unfold. So why should he not behave like an Egyptian?

He also knew the cost of refusing. Refusing Potiphar’s wife could have terrible consequences, and in fact it did: because he refused her, he ended up rotting in prison for twelve years.

And yet, at that decisive moment, the image of his father appeared before him and gave him the strength to resist. That is why the shalshelet appears on the word “and he refused” (Genesis 39:8). The note lets us hear the struggle inside the refusal. Joseph said no—but it was not an easy no. It was a victory over himself.

The Younger Generation

The fourth and final time the shalshelet appears in the Torah is in this week’s portion.

In the portion of Tzav, we read about the dedication of the Tabernacle. G-d commands Moses to take Aaron and his sons and consecrate them for the priesthood—to appoint Aaron as the High Priest and his sons as priests. Moses dresses them in the priestly garments, and then sanctifies the Tabernacle and all its vessels. Then, on the seventh day of the inauguration, the Torah describes the offerings that Moses brought as part of the dedication.

And when he slaughtered the final offering—the one through which the priesthood was transferred to Aaron—the shalshelet appears on the word “and he slaughtered” (Leviticus 8:23). That tells us that Moses, too, faced an inner struggle.

So what was Moses struggling with?

There are different explanations, but perhaps the answer becomes clearer in the next portion, Shemini. As is well known, on the eighth day of the inauguration, Aaron’s two sons, Nadav and Avihu, entered the Tabernacle and brought what the Torah calls “a strange fire, which He had not commanded them” (Leviticus 10:1). The result was the terrible tragedy of their death.

Perhaps Moses was wondering, deep down, whether it was really possible to place the holiest treasure of the Jewish people—the newly built Tabernacle—into someone else’s hands. Would Aaron’s sons fully grasp the weight of its holiness? Were they perhaps still too young?

And yet, despite that hesitation, G-d’s command stood firm: the priesthood had to be passed on to Aaron and to his sons. And that is what Moses did.

And that is the message for us.

We have an obligation to pass responsibility on to the younger generation. It may be that we would do the job better ourselves. And more than that—it is possible that the younger generation will make mistakes. But even so, we cannot let that stop us. We have to set the hesitation aside and continue the chain into the next generation.

That is why one of the first things the Rebbe did, almost immediately after assuming leadership, was to establish Tzeirei Agudas Chabad—the youth division of Chabad—and to enlist young people in the work of spreading Jewish life and Judaism throughout the world. In fact, the entire Chabad revolution across the globe was built specifically through young people.

And as the saying goes: the world belongs to the young.