OP-ED: My sisters, I hear you
By NESHAMA CARLEBACH
I. HINENI
Neshama Carlebach (Photo courtesy URJ)
My friends, I humbly come before you. I am grateful to have this privilege to share what I hope will be a contribution to the conversation we are now engaged in in this moment of transformation.
I acknowledge that who I am – my very name – might make it hard to receive anything I might wish to offer. Still, our tradition teaches us that silence is consent, and I cannot remain silent in the face of so much pain.
II. I HEAR YOU
e other. That his life, music and actions prompt both laughter and tears will likely not cease in our lifetimes.
We, as human beings, try to strive for closure. That’s a natural inclination. But to try to find peace and closure with something that will never be clear nor closed has been – and will likely remain – painful and confusing. My choice is to stand here. To not run away.
And this is why we need to sing and hope even more than before. Finding songs to propel us is essential, now more than ever. If there were no songs, we would sing anyway. We’d find a way. My father’s music has been a salve for many and a trigger for others. In the end, those who feel healed by the music I bring – my own and my father’s – will be blessed by that. In the end, those who feel that they did not want to include it in their repertoire will not include it.
VI. BLESSED AND BRAVE: #METOO
Those who know me know that my work is about bringing a message of love and transformation. And, indeed, I have infused my own work with some of the words of light and love and hope and meaning that I learned from my father. I continue to spread that meaning and light and love and hope, even as my own eyes, my own perspective, has shifted, even as I grapple with new language. Of all the challenges I have had to face, this moment is the most painful. And I am grateful. This conversation is more necessary than ever, and I more committed than ever to continuing my work, bringing my voice wherever I can, listening well and sharing of my own heart.
When I was 9 years old, a trusted friend of my father’s, also a rabbi, a fixture in my home, came into my bedroom and molested me. For the child in my heart, who has walked through life in fear since that moment, I thank you all for shifting the tide. Our daughters, our sons, our children, must have a better world. And that, friends, must be our true focus. We must not stop our work, pouring out the music of our souls to rid our children’s worlds of pain, fear, and hunger of body and soul.
Yes, the discomfort is painful. Deeply painful. But we are called to lean into it. We must, if we are to transform the world. Some will sing my father’s music, some will not. But we are all called to sing a better day into being.
My sisters, we have lived too long with the silence that encases our hearts and the sounds of our own sorrows. Today and tomorrow, if we are blessed and if we are brave, we’ll find ways to stand together to make that harmony richer than it’s ever been.
I leave you with love, blessings, and more happiness than I can possibly express.
(Neshama Carlebach is a singer, composer and arranger. This article originally appeared on the Times of Israel.)
