I may be mistaken, but I have an inkling the late Chief Rabbi Lord Jonathan Sacks didn’t watch Eurovision. But he certainly knew about the power of music.
He once wrote: “Words are the language of the mind. Music is the language of the soul… When the soul sings, the spirit soars.”
Throughout our tumultuous history, it is music that has been one of our greatest weapons – as well as a symbol of survival, showing our adversaries that we are still here.
Many of you will be familiar with the in-joke: “They tried to destroy us. They didn’t succeed. Let’s eat.” But maybe we should substitute “Let’s eat” with “Let’s sing”.
It was music that enabled those in Auschwitz’s orchestras to defy – or at least delay – death, and one of the most moving pieces of footage to have emerged from the Holocaust is of survivors still wearing prison clothing, their heads shaved, standing behind a barbed wire fence, singing the Hatikvah, five days after Bergen-Belsen was liberated.
And the healing properties of music are unquestionable. Since October 7, some of Israel’s biggest stars, more used to selling out stadiums, have been visiting kibbutzim and army bases across the country, with just an acoustic guitar slung over their shoulder, to alleviate some of the pain and bring some lightness and distraction to soldiers and survivors.
In diaspora synagogues and at rallies for Israel, our leaders haven’t been espousing war or revenge, but instead, they have been leading us in song, to the point that certain tunes – namely Acheinu, which calls for the release of the hostages – have become almost anthemic.
As for Israel’s Eurovision entry, few songs embody resilience and optimism more than New Day Will Rise, with its lyrics of “Darkness will fade, all the pain will go by. But we will stay, even if you say goodbye”. A healing balm for the soul.
But music is just as important – if not more so – during times of joy. On Saturday night, while taking a fondue break from Eurovision (my husband took the Swiss theme to another level), a friend remarked that at simchahs, it wasn’t the food, the tattoo artist or the seating plan that you remembered (unless you’re by the door/the speaker/your partner’s ex); it’s the music.
And Eurovision is one big global simchah. Despite a few bad eggs trying to ruin all the fun by burning Israeli and American flags and attempting to storm the stage during Yuval Raphael’s heart-stopping performance, Israeli fans largely reported that, unlike in 2024, they were made to feel safe, welcome – and happy.
When it came to voting for Israel, this was a display of diaspora Jewish unity at its finest, transcending the political cracks that have emerged of late. Whether you despise Netanyahu or believe he can do no wrong; you support a ceasefire in Gaza or think Israel should carry on fighting until a seemingly elusive bitter end, an uncontroversial song promising better days ahead was something all of us could get behind.
While some people claim it was the “Jewish vote” that gave Israel the largest slice of the public pie in Eurovision history, this argument (literally) doesn’t add up if you look at the small number of Jews who live in Azerbaijan, Portugal and Luxembourg – just some of the countries whose public gave Raphael’s performance “douze points”.
As for second place, I’ll take that, thank you very much. Not because Graham Norton took it upon himself to share with BBC viewers that Eurovision in Tel Aviv next year could have been a headache for the European Broadcasting Union – something we were swiftly reminded of when the Houthis timed Saturday night’s rockets with the announcement of the final results.
Rather, I’ll take second place because runners-up traditionally do better than winners. Look at the UK’s own 1968 Eurovision export, Cliff Richard, and while we are on the topic, a little group called One Direction did rather well after coming not second, but third (noch) in another popular music contest.
But Saturday night was, for many of us, far more than a singing competition. It was a way to say to Israel that despite the media and political bashing it gets, you are still loved. It was also a way of saying to the rest of the world that Israel is here to stay.
They tried to destroy us. They didn’t succeed. Let’s sing.
