This week’s Torah portion is called Shemini (“eighth”), which refers to the day after the seven days of training for the Kohanim (priests) before the inauguration of the Mishkan (Tabernacle). Until the eighth day, G‑d’s presence did not fill the Mishkan, and the G‑dly fire didn’t descend onto the altar.

What is it about the eighth that makes all the difference?

In nature, we find seven to be common. There are seven days of the week, seven years to our agricultural cycle. Kabbalah teaches that there are seven building blocks of creation, consisting of six emotional attributes, and the seventh, Malchut, which amplifies these attributes (note the parallel to the six days of the week and Shabbat).

We also find that music has seven notes, A through G. We even are told that King David had a lyre that had seven strings.

All these sevens are meant to bring to the eighth. What is the eighth?

The eighth is our true essence; it is our ability to transcend nature and connect with the part of ourselves that is above nature, our neshamah (soul). The neshamah is a part of G‑d, and when we rise above nature, we feel our essential bond with Him.

The seven days of training brought them to the eighth day, on which G‑d’s presence re-entered the Jewish community. This is because we once again found our way above our physical selves and revealed our oneness with G‑d.

Music has the ability to move us. Music is the language of the soul. The right music will uplift you and bring you closer to G‑d.

Several years ago, while going through a rough patch, I wrote a song asking G‑d to shine a little light and brighten what seemed to be a darkness I could not overcome. Later, I realized that there is no darkness that cannot be overcome. All I needed to do is dig deep inside and find the light inside me—my beautiful neshamah—and let it shine on myself and others. Writing the song uplifted me.

Once again, my family and I found ourselves in a dark situation when G‑d gifted me with ALS. Every day seemed worse than the one before, as I was getting weaker each day. Then my daughter, Fruma, found the song, which I recorded on a cell phone. Once again, it was there to lift me up.

When my friend Chaim Marcus heard the song, he felt that the world should hear it. Gathering some of the greatest talent together, he produced this song, sparing nothing to make sure it was perfect—and it is. We are so thankful to all of those who put their talents and hearts into this project. Without you, it would still be just a little light.

It lifted me up, and I hope the song lifts you up as well.