Reflections on a visit to the Nova Music Festival Memorial
As I made my way through the brutally disturbing exhibit subtitled “The Moment the Music Stopped“, I reflected on two key features of the experience. The first is how viscerally raw the encounter is. The pain of human death and destruction is overwhelming–the observer is given nearly firsthand witness to the murderous onslaught that almost feels as if we are voyeuristically intruding into the lives of the victims. These are Jews, they are my community, I am witnessing a pogrom as recorded by those who endured it. As someone well-versed in Jewish history, the violent attack is reminiscent of so many precious violations of my people’s lives by vicious murderers. A visitor bears witness on behalf of the victims and places this last assault into the permanent annals of Jewish history. It will never be forgotten.
The second component of the experience, and clearly the primary objective of the organizers, is to make the experience universal. The Nova festival was in Israel, but it wasn’t Jewish. The festival goers were mostly Jewish, but the trance music and the vision of its sponsors was not uniquely Jewish. Though the interviewees speak Hebrew, they use their familiar language to describe a festival vision that focuses on community broadly, on a connection to the earth, and the way the music and dance combine to create an elevated mental and emotional experience. Other than a brief interlude when Israel’s anthem, Hatikvah, is heard without introduction, the background music is mostly unidentifiable. There are no Israeli flags present, no reference to politics, land, or national identities. Where religion is referenced, it’s either incidental (“the attack occurred on October 7th, during the Jewish holiday of Simchat Torah”) or referenced obliquely among other healing traditions. Why?
By removing politics or Jewish uniqueness, the organizers place this atrocity beyond borders and contemporary circumstances. The merciless, inhuman attack is not just an affront to Jews or Israel, it is an attack against humanity. The capacity of humans for such cruelty cannot ever be justified, regardless of where it takes place or who the victims might be. The cause of the attackers is irrelevant, the cruelty of their attack mitigates against any justification. By rising above religion and politics, the exhibit planners assert that the violence perpetrated on October 7th must be condemned and defeated by any decent human society.
Finally, as one passes through the visions of decimation into the final rooms, dedicated to healing, an immense neon sign proclaims: “We Will Dance Again!” If there is hope to be found after Nova’s destruction, it’s that the victory of the living–both the survivors and any decent human being—is in standing against any who would perpetrate such violence anywhere in the world and to bring healing to the victims. By crafting such a compelling universal message, the exhibit’s designers have reminded us of our obligation to be relentless in our pursuit of peace. I hope you will make the pilgrimage to walk its sacred halls.
—Rabbi Ron Stern
