Choosing God on the Stage of “The Voice”5 min read

At this point in our courtship with the technological revolution and the depth to which we are sunken in a seemingly endless ocean of information, it is difficult for a single piece of content to truly make an impression. When it does, the very fact of its endurance itself demands that we revisit it and attempt to figure out why.

I encountered one such video the other day, scrolling down my Facebook feed. It was posted by a friend, Avi Ganz, and linked to a four-year-old YouTube video of his audition for The Voice Israel, a nationally televised singing competition. As a lover of music and having received chazzanus advice from Avi in the past despite never having had the opportunity to hear him sing, I was intrigued.

I clicked through. I watched. And I was entirely blown away. With boundless confidence, great energy, and one of the most uniquely powerful voices I have ever heard come out of a frum Jew, Avi brought the house down with his raspy rendition of a Marley classic, prompting three out of the four judges to “turn their chairs”, a notable achievement. (He was eventually knocked out of the competition – wrongfully, I believe, but that’s a conversation for a different time.)

Avi’s performance was phenomenal, but beautiful as his voice is and thought-provoking as the lyrics to “No Woman No Cry” may or may not be, this is not why I was compelled to re-watch the clip again and again, tears in my eyes.

The way it works on this particular show is that after the auditions, the judges – all popular and renowned musicians in the given country hosting the competition – interact with the performers, usually commenting on their performance, making small talk, and ultimately trying to convince them to “join their team” and work with them for the duration of their time in the competition.

The only of the four judges who chose not to “turn his chair” during Avi’s performance was the Tel-Avivian superstar Aviv Geffen. After some joking around about the disparity between Avi’s appearance and the judges’ expectation of a Jamaican Rasta, Aviv, an icon of Israel’s secular left, grew serious.

“Tell me a minute.” He said, out of the blue. “Why God?”

“What?” answered a clearly confused and rightly incredulous Avi.

The crowd was silent, tense.

“Why did you choose God?”

Now, if you permit me to interject, I must impress upon you how bizarre a question this was in the particular setting. The Voice is a singing competition, its stage intended for rousing melodies and soaring vocals, not the tension and rigor of theological debate. I am willing to bet that not once, on any episode of this (or any!) show in the 46 countries which air The Voice, did a judge ever ask a question of this nature. Only in Israel. Only in our Holy Land.

Having recovered from his initial shock (I can guarantee you that a secular Israeli was never asked, “Why not choose God?”), Avi smiled. Without missing a beat, and to great applause, he said, “I didn’t choose God. God chose me!”

Giving the audience a moment to calm down, Aviv began to express his respect for religion and God as a concept – the idea of hope – and talked about how he feels today’s God is “Google”, which constantly connects our entire world.

At this point, Shlomi Shabat, a fellow judge, interjected that one simply cannot make the blessing, “Blessed are you, our God, “Google”, King of the universe…”.

It was funny, and the audience laughed, but beneath this humorous retort sat a very obvious point: the creation of our infinitely complex and wondrous universe can be attributed neither to an idea like “hope” nor a man-made system like Google. With Shlomi’s encouragement, the (by appearances, overwhelmingly secular) audience suddenly burst into song – “Anachnu maaminim b’nei maaminim, v’ein lanu al mi lehisha’ein, elah, elah al Avinu, Avinu sheBaShamayim…”

What a moment. What a moment! “Maaminim b’nei maainim!”

Now it was time for a third judge to involve himself in what was quickly snowballing into a full-scale religious debate on the stage of The Voice. Focusing in on Aviv’s obvious defensiveness, Avraham Tal spoke up.

“I have known Aviv for many years,” he said to the crowd. Turning to Aviv, he continued. “And the way you struggle with this question – it’s as if you are wrestling with yourself! You always come out and say, “Chevra, it doesn’t exist.” But I am telling you, Aviv, that inside, inside – you believe! Inside, you are a believer!”

With what appears to be a tinge of fear in his eye, Aviv flatly denies it. “That’s not true. That’s not true.” And they go around in circles for a bit.

All this, again, prompted by Avi Ganz singing “No Woman No Cry”, by Bob Marley. If I wouldn’t have seen it myself, I would never have believed it.

As said, this clip blew me away. Only in Israel are issues of faith so deeply inherent that they can’t escape the spotlight – even in an arena where a literal spotlight is decidedly fixed on everything else.

After watching the audition a few times, I naturally began to wonder: If I had been in Avi’s position, what would I have said? In all honesty, I probably would have frozen up and found it impossible to utter a coherent sentence. But assuming that I was fluent in Hebrew and had prepared for this challenge, how would I have responded?

This line of thinking led me to focus on the wording of Aviv’s question.

“Why did you choose God?”

What a strange question! “Choose God?” We don’t ordinarily think in terms of our having “chosen God.” The admirable wit of Avi’s clever reaction to this question aside, we don’t often think about God having “chosen us” either, at least not on a personal level. God is simply a reality, the Creator and sustainer of all the worlds, the Infinite Force within Whom every particle of physicality exists and Whose palpable presence is what makes it possible for Aviv to ask his question in the first place. I would have probably carried on with Shlomi’s line of reasoning – God is not a concept, an idea. He is the very premise of reality and our experience within it. I might have reframed the entire conversation with Rebbe Nachman of Breslov’s famous quip, “I also don’t believe in the god you don’t believe in,” explaining that my perception of Hashem is far deeper and more nuanced than the colloquial “man in the sky” etc.

Of one thing I was sure though, the question “Why did you choose God?” was simply not the right question. The premise was off, one does not “choose God.”

But the more I thought about it, the more the wording of this question began to impact me in a very deep way.

It seems that the process of his defensive denial, Aviv Geffen (who, parenthetically just released a beautiful song together with Avraham Fried) had stumbled upon a deeply profound truth.

Yes, God is real and present, the Primordial Fact from Whose infinite Wisdom all facts derive. We perceive His Presence in nature and His revelation in the Torah. We spend a significant portion of our lives in His service. We believe that He chose our holy nation at Sinai and chooses us again each moment anew.

But do we ever “choose” Him? Does there ever come a point in the life of a frum Jew when we break out of the routine of our natural adherence to societal expectations and momentarily step out of the blinding circle of light cast by the torch we have received from generations past to actively choose to kindle our own flame? Sure, we relate to Hashem as “Elokei avoseinu,” but are we willing to crown Him “Elokeinu,” our God, in our own hearts and homes? Do we ever choose to engage in a deeply personal relationship with our Father in heaven?

The voice of a faceless rebbe echoes in my mind; “You are saying good, Aviv. But say better!”

Don’t ask, “Why did you choose God?”

We will get there, in due time.

First ask, “Have you chosen God?”

Let’s start from there.