“And the winner of this year’s Eurovision is…” It was the most tense moment of the contest. Israel vs. Belgium. Things had been looking grim all night. Noam Bettan, Israel’s representative this year, had received only one full endorsement from the Polish judges, leaving us in the middle of the pack leading up to the popular vote. Just as the popular vote was coming to a close, Israel took first place — a moment which should have been filled with pure elation. But there was more going on than what appeared on the live stream.
I’m not a huge Eurovision fan. When it comes to staying up until 2am, surf contests have been the only sporting event to keep me until all hours of the night. I don’t watch the Superbowl or the World Series, although my children do. Living in Israel means that if you want to participate in these events as they happen, you have to pull an all-nighter. But for this year’s Eurovision, I chose to tough it out with my kids.
My eldest daughter is head-over-heels for Noam Bettan. As the various artists were performing throughout finals night, she showed me some of her favorite social media videos of Bettan. I had to agree, he seems like a real mensch. And his performance was not to be believed. He took it on with such charisma and poise, you’d never know the audience was booing him.
“Look Aba,” my eldest said as she showed me her phone again. A video played of a Eurovision audience member holding his phone above his head displaying a Palestinian flag. I felt slightly dejected. “But look,” she continued. “He’s dancing.” I couldn’t believe my eyes. In the midst of his protest, this person couldn’t help but shake his head to the beat of Noam’s song. I hoped it was a sign of what was to come.
The culmination of the competition was something to be proud of. My kids and I laughed at the awkward commentary of the Austrian hosts. “Let’s just review who the top three artists are,” they said as a chart was on screen, detailing everyone’s rank. “How does it work again?” I joked. “Number one is in the lead or number 35?” In the end, we all had a good laugh at the United Kingdom’s expense, which only received one point in both voting categories. It was pretty clear who was in last place.
At 2am, after comparing my children’s own rankings to the actual results, we headed to bed with smiles on our faces. Not only did we have a great time but our country came in second place. It felt like a big win for Israel.
The next morning the news coverage of the contest had shifted from our near victory to the audience’s behavior. I recalled at one point during the night hearing some murmurs from the crowd, but I hadn’t noticed much else. In actuality, both during Noam’s performance and the live rankings, the audience was littered with Palestinian flags and anti-Israel chants.
As it turns out, Bettan’s preparation had included more than just song rehearsals. His team had prepped him for this eventuality. As he practiced, people would yell and boo at him, so that at the main event, it wouldn’t faze him.
When I first heard of Bettan’s preparations and what he had to endure I was reminded of my children’s enduring question since Oct. 7: Does that famous person hate us? My prayer throughout has been that their idols will just remain silent on the issue so my children can go on loving them in peace.
However, Noam Bettan taught them something important through his performance. He showed them that despite the adversity they may face in the future, they can press on and still create something meaningful; that they can rise above the screaming crowds of detractors, and if they smile as beautifully as he did, they may still get those who disagree with us to nod their heads to the beat.
Hayim Leiter is a rabbi, a wedding officiant, and a mohel who performs britot (ritual circumcisions) and conversions in Israel and worldwide. Based in Efrat, Israel, he is the founder of Magen HaBrit, an organization protecting the practice of brit milah and the children who undergo it.
