Music: A Connector of Hearts

Music: A Connector of Hearts
Cantor Jenna Pearsall

Somewhere near Gaza, I sat across a picnic table from the soldier I had been eating dinner with, looking seriously at him, my eyes wide as I asked–

Are you okay?

This is the question I asked after words failed me, filling the air following a long pause in conversation with an Israeli soldier at an IDF base in the Gaza envelope. After I said it, I thought to myself, really? Did you just ask him that? Of all the questions to ask! But staring into his eyes, seeing the bravery in someone younger than me, going to war for his people every day, all I wanted to do was comfort him even though I did not know how and I didn’t know what to say, even though I only knew a small snapshot of his life, I wanted to wrap him in a hug, and to say that everything is going to be okay.

I’ve been thinking of this interaction leading up to this Shabbat Nachamu when we mark the ending of Tisha B’Av and the period of darkness and mourning in the Jewish calendar that led up to it. Shabbat Nachamu got its name from this week’s haftarah, in which the prophet Isaiah shares God’s words of comfort for the people Israel. The haftarah declares, Nachamu, Nachamu ami yomar eloheichem, comfort comfort my people says your God. On Tisha B’Av, we sit on the floor, lamenting for what has been done to us, and on Shabbat Nachamu, we get up off that floor, and turn our hearts toward hope and healing. Living in a time such as this, with war in Israel and Gaza, a tumultuous build-up to election season, and an uncertain time for Jews in America, I find myself pondering if any of us are truly okay. We are grieving and mourning just as the ancient Israelites did, and who is here to comfort us? I feel compelled to ask anyone I talk with, what’s bringing you comfort during this time? How do you seek out and find moments of calm and comfort when we all feel so unmoored?

To no one’s surprise, my source of comfort when I start feeling this way is music. Part of why I became a cantor is because of my belief that music has the power to uplift us, to provide light in otherwise dark times, to bring strength to those who need bolstering. Music is a vessel through which we can communicate our deepest emotions in times when speaking feels too hard, or too vulnerable, or when we just don’t know what to say. Music brings people together when words alone fail.

I never felt this sentiment more than when I went to Israel last month on a mission with sixty cantors, traveling there to bear witness and to express our support. What ensued was a music-filled week of standing beside our Israeli brothers and sisters in song and harmony. We sang the words of Oseh Shalom with Beit Tefilah Yisraeli at the port in Tel Aviv, praying for peace for those attending Shabbat services in the midst of war. We sang in kikar hachatufim, hostage square, swaying arm in arm with the families of hostages, painfully marking yet another havdalah with their loved ones still in captivity. Music helped us to provide comfort, to convey what our hearts felt in the moment. We learned that since October 7th, the soundscape of Israel has dramatically changed. We met with Israeli musicians who shared with us that in the immediate aftermath, they could not find the music within them anymore, and when they did return to their music, songs that they had been singing for years suddenly took on new meaning. Music has been a coping mechanism for the Israeli people and countless new songs have been written and produced directly responding to the war, conveying the pain that all Israelis have had to endure since last fall. For example, Eyal Golan came out with a new Am Yisrael Chai, singing “the sun will soon rise, we will know better days than these, the heart fights with worries, everyone will return home, we will wait for them downstairs, if only we get good news.” These lyrics were written October 19th, just 12 days after the attacks, as Israeli musicians processed their emotions regarding the hostages through new compositions in real time. Juxtaposed with this newer music responding to current events, we learned that the music taking over Israeli radio and the top ten lists of music streaming platforms has changed to older folk songs, the songs of Arik Einstein and Shlomo Artzi, beloved, timeless music that has comforted Israelis for decades. It is clear that music has the power to transport us and to soothe an aching heart.

As further testament to the power of music to comfort and console, I wanted to share with you a moving moment that happened at the Nova festival grounds near the border of Gaza. Two of the cantors in our group led us in a short memorial service, singing together and marking the moment in prayer, a sense of heaviness felt by us all. My chest was tight as I looked around at the faces of the beautiful lives cut short, scattered amidst the trees. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw three IDF soldiers slowly coming up to our group. My immediate thought was one of apprehension, wondering what they were thinking about our group of largely American, obviously very reform Jews engaging in this act of commemoration. But soon, they started singing along, and as they shared in the Kaddish with us, I saw tears forming in their eyes. Music, yet again, showing off its powerful ability to act as a connector of hearts. As soon as it concluded, an incredibly powerful moment was shared, and thanks to someone in our group who was already recording our service, we share with you now the soldier’s response to our memorial.

There is more to the video, but unfortunately his words were interrupted by the sounds of war in the background. He goes on to say that we are all Jews, and those who are against us do not care if we are Israeli, Orthodox, or Reform. For the people who have hatred in their hearts, we are simply Jews, and we have to stay strong for one another. In a remarkable act of courage, this soldier recognized not only what they are going through in Israel, but what Jews worldwide have had to endure since last October. We were the ones coming to Israel to comfort and support Israelis, yet this soldier saw us and took the time to recognize that antisemitism is currently impacting us all. It was unprompted and so real, I didn’t notice until he stopped talking that tears stained my cheeks.

We did not know him, and he did not know us, but music brought us together in that moment and provided comfort for our grieving hearts. On this Shabbat Nachamu, may we all find a moment to be there for one another, to lift one another up, and to sing together with our hearts turned towards hope.