13 Feb GRATEFUL OR NOT GOOD ENOUGH? THE GRAMMYS TRIBUTE TO THE VICTIMS OF THE NOVA MUSIC FESTIVAL

The Grammy Awards,
presented by the
Recording Academy of
the United States, are
regarded as the most
prestigious and
significant awards in
the music industry worldwide. As far as
awards shows are concerned, the Grammys
couldn’t be a more appropriate and
prominent event to pay tribute to the
barbaric and horrific murder of hundreds of
people and the kidnapping of 40 more at
the Nova Music Festival in Israel on
October 7th. For that reason, our friend,
former Congressman Ted Deutch, now
CEO of the AJC, published an op-ed calling
on them to honor the victims and advocate
for the hostages.
The 66th annual Grammys took place this
week and indeed, it drew an enormous
audience of 16.9 million viewers, up 34%
from last year. To his credit, Recording
Academy CEO Harvey Mason Jr. did use
the enormous platform to acknowledge the
historic atrocity at the Supernova Festival,
saying:
Every one of us, no matter where we’re
from, is united by the shared experience of
music. It brings us together like nothing
else can, and that’s why music must always
be our safe space. When that’s violated, it
strikes at the very core of who we are. We
felt that at the Bataclan concert hall in
Paris. We felt that at the Manchester Arena
in England. We felt that at the Route 91
Harvest Music Festival in Las Vegas. And,
on October 7, we felt that again, when we
heard the tragic news from the Supernova
Music Festival for Love, that over 360
music fans lost their lives and another 40
were kidnapped.
That day and all the tragic days that have
followed have been awful for the world to
bear as we mourn the loss of all innocent
lives. We live in a world divided by so
much, and maybe music can’t solve
everything, but let us all agree that music
must remain the common ground upon
which we all stand, together in peace and
harmony. Every song that we’re honoring
or hearing tonight moved someone, no
matter where they were from, what they
believed, it connected us to others who
were moved in the same way. Take this
string quartet: As individuals they sound
really good, but together they achieve
something beautiful they could never do
apart. These musicians of Israeli,
Palestinian and Arab descent are here,
playing together. Now is the time for us,
for humanity, to play together, to come
together.
On the one hand, in a world of growing
antisemitism, anti-Israel sentiment, moral
equivalency and political considerations,
we should feel gratitude to Mason for the
moral clarity to use the awards show to
address the darkest day the Jewish people
have had since the Holocaust. While
obvious to us, addressing the Supernova
atrocity was likely complicated for him.
But while Mason showed courage in some
ways by addressing the atrocity, he fell way
short of truly honoring those murdered,
advocating for the victims, and hostages or
standing for the truth when he omitted who
they were, where they lived, and why they
were killed.
Look at his words more carefully. Notice
that the Bataclan concert hall is in Paris.
Manchester Arena is in England. Route 91
Harvest Music Festival is in Las Vegas.
What about the Supernova Music Festival,
where did it take place, where did that
tragedy occur? No mention, as if Israel, the
one and only Jewish state, is a dirty word, a
political football, a divisive or taboo term.
Mason goes on to describe, “over 360
music fans lost their lives,” as if they died
in an accident or natural disaster. They
didn’t lose their lives, they were murdered.
Brutally, barbarically, viciously. They
were raped, tortured, and massacred and it
was not because they were “music fans,” it
was because they were Israelis, because
most of them were Jews.
The “tragic days” that have followed and
the loss of “all innocent lives” are not
because of a conflict that has two legitimate
sides, but entirely and only because a
barbaric terrorist organization, Hamas,
attacked the innocent civilians of Israel.
While the symbolism evoked by the string
quartet is meaningful, it is empty if not
accompanied by substance. Peace won’t
come from Israelis and Palestinians simply
playing music together. It will come when
we can call evil by its name, when we can
say out loud the difference between
perpetrators and victims and when we
don’t have to wordsmith statements to
make them politically correct.
Maybe you will say I am being unfair,
hypercritical, or expecting too much.
Maybe by so closely analyzing his words I
am being ungrateful for the courage it took
to share them at all. Perhaps. But I ask you
to consider this. Forty participants at that
Festival for Love were kidnapped, many
still being held hostage against all
international law, human rights, and basic

morality. Could Mason not have used
that moment, that stage, to say before
nearly 20 million people, “Let them go,”
or “Bring them home”? Is calling for the
release of innocent women and children
controversial? Is it politically incorrect or
divisive? Is it too much to ask or expect?
Yes, we should be appreciative and yes,
we should express our gratitude, but we
also must simultaneously not sell
ourselves short, settle for less than we
deserve or are entitled to. Are we so
insecure, do we lack confidence in who we
are, our story, our right to exist and live in
peace and harmony?
After October 7th, Boca Raton Synagogue
distributed 1,000 car flags. We didn’t only
encourage Israeli flags but we also provided
and encouraged people to display American

flags (and IDF flags). While pro-
Palestinians rallies have only included

American flags as objects to burn, we
wanted to communicate the shared values
and close connection of Israel and America.
I proudly display the flags on my car. A
few weeks ago, I was driving down
Palmetto Park Road, a busy street in our
area, when someone tried to cut me off,
almost pushing me off the road. I slowed
down to avoid a collision or an escalation
when he lowered his window, pointed to
my flags, starting yelling and gesturing
obscenely in my direction. He was cursing
Israel and me wildly. I slowed significantly
and avoided further interaction but those
moments truly shook me. I couldn’t
believe that right here in Boca Raton, a
community that is more than fifty percent
Jewish, such hatred and public antisemitism
could be displayed so brazenly.
When I shared the story with someone I
am close with, their response as to
encourage me to take off the flags. Why
identify so publicly with Israel, they asked?
Why put it in people’s face? Why drive
around with a target on your car?
To be honest, I was shocked. The answer
is to hide my pro-Israel feelings? The
response is to take down my American and
Israeli flags?! When I was in Yeshiva in
Washington Heights, I vividly remember
seeing Puerto Rican flags around the
neighborhood and feeling admiration for
the patriotism, pride, and connection my
neighbors felt for where they are from.
My children were recently in Los Angeles.
My son-in-law was walking to Mincha
with his 4-year-old son when a car slowed
down, the window lowered, and the driver
gestured obscenely and screamed out at
them, “wrong way to the tunnels.” Are

they not entitled to walk down the street
safely? Must a Jew in Los Angeles, New
York, or Boca Raton take off their
yarmulka, remove any display of their
Jewishness when in public?
In this moment, more than ever in our
lifetimes, we need to stand tall and firm,
with pride, unapologetically, without
defensiveness or insecurity about who we
are, what we deserve, what we stand for,
and who we stand with. We must not be
satisfied with universalized messages
against “all hate” instead of specifically
calling out antisemitism. We must not be
content with a minimal acknowledgement
when it fails to say Jew or Israeli. We must
not tolerate moral equivalence, a lack of
clarity of who is the aggressor and who is
the victim. We must demand those who
display hate against us be prosecuted to the
full extent of the law. We must urge decent
people everywhere to advocate for the
release of our hostages immediately.
When we were liberated from Egypt, we
were first instructed to go to our neighbors
and respectfully, but firmly, ask for gold
and silver, the compensation for our years
of slavery. Hashem wanted us to walk out
with resources and wealth but He wanted
us to leave with something even more
important. A slave feels like a passive
spectator to their own lives. They must
meekly accept whatever they get and
whatever happens to them. The only way
for a slave to gain true wealth is to be
liberated from that mentality and to
proclaim, I know what I am worth, I know
what I deserve, I know what I am entitled
to, and I demand it now. When asked
boldly and confidently, the Egyptians
complied with the Jews request.
We left Egypt with more than gold and
silver, we left with pride and confidence,
the knowledge of who we are and what we
deserve. The time has come to free
ourselves from an apologetic, fearful
mentality and posture and to stand up for
who we are. When we respect ourselves
we will find others have greater respect for
us as well.