As the summer sun warmed the pages of our Chumash, a unique challenge unfolded within our class at Mesorah High School for Girls.
Introduction
What began as a daily classroom reading of Tehillim was soon transformed into something otherworldly. Inspired by the horrific events that unfolded in Eretz Yisrael last October 7, we embarked on a collective mission: to complete the entire Sefer Tehillim together during those long, hot Texas months. Little did we know that this endeavor would weave bonds of friendship, resilience, and shared purpose.
Setting the Stage
The news from Israel weighed heavily on our hearts—the conflicts, the struggles, and the prayers of a nation. We wondered: Could we channel our concern into something meaningful? Could we, as a class, make a difference? We ended the year by completing the Sefer Tehilim on the last day of school, where each girl was presented with a certificate of completion.
And so, with determination and a touch of audacity, I proposed a challenge: Let’s finish Tehillim together over the summer. Each girl would take responsibility for specific perakim (chapters) on designated days. We divided the entire Sefer Tehillim into manageable portions, spanning July and August. Our mission was clear: to infuse our prayers with purpose and unity.
We whispered Tehillim in coffee shops, under the shade of oak trees, and even during the odd summer thunderstorm.”
The Journey
Our class of eight girls embraced the challenge. With Google sheets at hand for record keeping, we became Tehillim warriors, armed not with swords but with verses. We stumbled over unfamiliar phrases, laughed at our shared mispronunciations, and wiped away tears. As the sun peeked over the horizon each morning, we opened our Tehillim books and recited our assigned perakim. Whether at home, in the park, at summer camp, or during family road trips, we carried the words of King David with us.
Some days, the verses flowed effortlessly. On other days, life’s distractions threatened to pull us away. But we persisted. We whispered Tehillim in coffee shops, under the shade of oak trees, and even during the odd summer thunderstorm. The words became our companions and our connection to something greater.
The Siyum
Today, as we stepped back into our familiar classroom—the desks neatly arranged, the whiteboard waiting—we felt a mix of anticipation and accomplishment. The first day of school had arrived, and with it, the culmination of our summer mission.
Five of us had completed our assigned perakim. Five voices, each echoing the psalms, had risen to the heavens. But we were not alone. Two special guests joined us: graduates from last year’s class. Part of the original five, they had returned, not as students, but as fellow Tehillim sisters on this spiritual journey. Their presence reminded us that the bonds forged within these walls transcended graduation day.
And so, together, we recited the final six perakim. The room vibrated with the ancient words. We felt a sense of completion as we reached the last verse—a circle closed, a mission fulfilled.
Conclusion
In our small classroom, we discovered that Tehillim was more than poetry; it was a lifeline. It connected us to generations past, to a king who poured out his heart, and to a nation that has weathered storms for millennia. And so, with gratitude and a sense of purpose, we made our siyum. ■
Esti Abrams
Teacher, Mesorah High School for Girls
