Tonight is known as Shabbat Shira, the Shabbat of Song, because this week’s Torah portion includes the Song of the Sea, which our people sang after crossing the Reed Sea on dry land, and after watching the Egyptian army drown.

Shira is also a popular name in Israel, and for Americans as a Hebrew name. It is an honor to bear that name, in part because of the story of the Song of the Sea, includes a special mention of Moses’ sister Miriam. We last heard from her when she followed baby Moses bobbing down the Nile in a basket. She approached Pharoah’s daughter, told her that she knew a Hebrew nursemaid, and thus ensured that Moses was fed from his own mother’s breast.

She disappeared from the story throughout the saga of the plagues, only to pop up now, identified as Aaron’s sister (Moses is not mentioned) and called a niveeyah, a prophetess.

She stood at the shore of the Sea of Reeds, leading the women in song. They danced and played their timbrels, which we think were tambourines.

The question arises: What were they doing with musical instruments? They had just fled from Egypt, carrying everything that was important for a woman to have on such a journey. One would think that feeding and caring for their families would be on their minds, not music.

But turn a tambourine over, and you have a perfect vehicle for carrying things. It might jangle in your bag, but I think that would be a benefit, not a drawback. And I absolutely think that bringing music with you, wherever you go, is a good thing.

Oddly, I wake up every morning with a song running through my head. I never know what song it’s going to be, or if it will be in English or Hebrew. And I never know why that particular song has planted itself in my mind.

This week’s song has been particularly odd. It’s the children’s song, “If you’re happy and you know it.”

As I walked my dogs this morning with the song playing on a seemingly endless loop through my head, I realized that I indeed was happy. Despite the fog, despite being chilly after some nice days, despite the daily onslaught of weird news, I was happy.

I am especially happy about a piece of news that is coming out of Israel. Women and girls of all ages are doing something both dramatic and silent. They are braiding their hair.

This is in response to the release of a 20-year-old hostage named Agam Berger. Israelis had noticed that newly released female hostages had their hair neatly braided. It turns out that was Agam’s gift to them. Now, Israeli women in Israel and around the world, El Al flight attendants and little girls, are thanking and honoring her by braiding theirs.

Did the female hostages need to have their hair braided? No more – and no less – that Miriam needed her timbrel. This is how we fight back; against fear, against attacks, against all that tries to work against us. This is how we prove to ourselves and the world that we rise above, and without a word, show our incredible strength of spirit.

The song “If You’re Happy and You Know It” ends with participants putting their whole selves into the center of the circle. That’s what we try to do every day, as we confront antisemitism and the ugly truth of a war that began with a heartless attack on civilians.

The Talmud teaches that braiding is the equivalent of building. Jewish women and girls are building something important, just as Miriam did by the waterside. They are building a community of women who know that freedom is a state of mind. Who know that the Jewish spirit will never die. Who understand that not all heroes wear capes. Some wear their hair in braids.

Left: Agam Berger and her parents. Right: El Al flight attendants.