A Song Of Ascent Or A Descent Into Compromise?

The morning of Simchat Torah dawned with a shattering silence. Where there should have been the joyful echoes of dancing with the Torah, there was a void. A terrible, aching void. In the days that followed, our hearts were broken into a thousand pieces as we learned of the horrors that had unfolded. We scrolled through our phones, our tears staining the screens, as we saw the faces of the kidnapped, the murdered, the heroes.

And among the countless stories of tragedy, one detail struck a particular chord of profound sorrow: the massacre at the Nova music festival. Young people, our children, our brothers and sisters, gathered in a field near Re’im to celebrate life and music. They were seeking joy, connection, and rhythm. But in that place of celebration, the ultimate darkness found them. The imagery was hauntingly, tragically pagan—a modern gathering in a field, reminiscent of ancient festivals, suddenly desecrated by unimaginable evil.

It’s an image that is seared into our national soul. And it’s from this place of raw remembrance that we must ask ourselves a difficult but necessary question: As a nation set apart, what kind of music do we offer the world? And on what stage do we choose to sing?

The Uncomfortable Truth: Eurovision’s Foundation

Let’s be gentle but honest with ourselves, mishpacha. The Eurovision Song Contest, for all its glitter and glamour, its catchy tunes and political voting, is built on a foundation that is entirely at odds with who we are called to be. It is, in its essence, a modern-day pagan assembly.

The event celebrates conformity to a world system that glorifies sensuality, excess, and often, outright rebellion against biblical values. We see it in the performances that prioritize shock value over substance, in the lyrics that exalt brokenness rather than healing, and in the overarching spirit of competition that pits nation against nation in pride, not in prayer.

It is a far cry from the picture of worship we see in Scripture. We are a people commanded to be holy, set apart for a purpose. Our music has a history—the song of Moshe and Miryam after crossing the Red Sea, the Psalms of David, the hymns of the Temple. This is our heritage. Why are we so eager to trade it for a spot on a stage that represents everything we are supposed to be a light against?

Remembering Re’im: A Warning Against Conformity

The tragedy at the Nova festival is a painful, sobering warning. It is a stark reminder that when we assemble in a spirit that is disconnected from the Holy One, we make ourselves vulnerable. I am not, chas v'shalom, suggesting that the victims were at fault. Absolutely not. They were innocent souls targeted by pure evil. But the location and nature of the event should give us pause as a nation.

It forces us to reflect: are we, as Israel, slowly being lulled into a sense of security by blending in with the nations? Are we forgetting our calling to be a mamlechet kohanim v’goy kadosh—a kingdom of priests and a holy nation (Exodus 19:6)? Participating in a contest like Eurovision, where we must conform to its standards to be accepted, is a form of spiritual compromise. We are saying, "We want to be like all the other nations," a cry that has haunted our people since the time of the prophet Shmuel.

"Do not conform to the pattern of this world, but be transformed by the renewing of your mind. Then you will be able to test and approve what God’s will is—his good, pleasing and perfect will." (Romans 12:2)

While from the New Testament, this wisdom from Rabbi Shaul (Paul) is deeply Torah-based. The "pattern of this world" is the very system Eurovision embodies. The call is to be transformed, not to conform. In practical terms, this means our entertainment, our art, and our national expressions should be filtered through the renewing truth of Scripture. It means asking, "Does this participation reflect a renewed mind, or a conformed one?"

The Call to be Set Apart: Wisdom from Our Past

Our Tanakh is filled with instructions and warnings about separating ourselves from the practices of the nations. This isn’t about being isolationist or unfriendly; it’s about being distinct so that the world can see the difference Adonai makes.

"Blessed is the one who does not walk in step with the wicked, or stand in the way that sinners take, or sit in the company of mockers." (Psalm 1:1)

This beautiful Psalm paints a progressive picture of compromise. First, we walk with something, then we stand in it, and finally, we sit and become comfortable in it. Eurovision participation is a form of "standing in the way" of a cultural event that often mocks the very values we hold dear. In our everyday life, this verse encourages us to be mindful of our associations. What conversations are we joining? What media are we consuming? What events are we giving our national endorsement to? Blessedness is found in a deliberate and joyful separation.

"Woe to those who call evil good and good evil, who put darkness for light and light for darkness, who put bitter for sweet and sweet for bitter." (Isaiah 5:20)

The Eurovision stage has repeatedly celebrated what the Torah calls evil and has presented darkness as light. As a nation that carries the light of God’s truth, we must be discerning. Our participation can be seen as a tacit endorsement of its values. Practically, this verse calls us to be people of clear, biblical discernment in a confused world, to boldly name what is holy and what is not, even when it’s unpopular.

The Way Forward: Lifting Up a New Song

So, what is the alternative? Should we hide our talent? Never! Israel is bursting with incredible musical talent given by HaShem. Our calling is not to silence our music but to redirect it to its ultimate purpose: the worship of our King and the blessing of the nations.

Imagine if we invested the immense resources spent on Eurovision—the money, the talent, the creative energy—into producing a global music festival rooted in our Hebraic values. A festival that celebrates life, redemption, and the goodness of the God of Israel. A stage where our musicians could freely sing in Hebrew, incorporating prayers and Psalms, and offering the world a true taste of the beauty of Zion. That would be a powerful Kiddush Hashem (sanctification of God’s name).

We are called to be a light, not to blend into the darkness. Our music should be a song of ascent, pointing people toward Yerushalayim, not a descent into a cultural melting pot that dilutes our identity.

A Gentle Invitation to Our Community

Dear friend, if this resonates with your spirit, I want you to know you’re not alone. It’s easy to feel like a voice in the wilderness when calling for separation. You might love music, you might even enjoy some of the performances, but you feel a holy unease—a nudge from the Ruach HaKodesh (Holy Spirit) that says, "This is not who we are." That feeling is not condemnation; it is a invitation to a higher calling.

This isn’t about judgment, but about journeying together toward a purer witness. Our shared mission is to uplift Messiah and reflect His character in every area of life, including our national choices.

If you feel led, here are a few ways you can join in:

· Pray: Pray for the eyes of our nation to be opened to its unique calling. Pray for our leaders and entertainers to have wisdom and courage.

· Share: Share this perspective with love and grace. Encourage thoughtful conversation within your circles.

· Encourage: If you know musicians and artists in the faith community, encourage them to create beautiful, excellent, and set-apart art for the glory of God.

· Give: If you are able, consider supporting ministries and music initiatives that are dedicated to producing Torah-based, Messiah-centered art that can be a true light to the nations.

We are in this together, a community bound by covenant and love. Thank you for your heart to seek truth and your courage to walk in it.

Todah rabah for walking this path of reflection with me. May we all be strengthened to sing the song Adonai has given us, and may our lives be a beautiful melody that points the world to its Composer.