written for the band Mah Tovu
Once upon a time in the mid to late nineteen nineties
when the very idea of putting a two and a zero in front of the year
still seemed like science fiction.
When the vice president had barely just invented the internet.
When everyone you knew was not a Rabbi or a Cantor
but just studying to be one.
Way back then, amidst the tall trees of a beloved camp
in Saratoga, California, I received a shiny round object.
It came in a plastic case.
They called it a compact disc.
You used to put it in a box, press a button
and sounds would come out.
It’s how we used to listen to music before
everything become ones and zeros floating through the air.
It was Only This…these guys
with their slick production and their songs
reminding me that whenever I went to a place where there were no humans
I had damned well better be human.
Like Hillel himself was in the studio when they recorded it.
I played it ‘til my fingers bled.
It was the summer of oh i’ll just stop.
It was so good, other guys joined in.
Rabbi guys. Guys with experience making music
come out of our TV’s.
Music that filled spaces in my sacred soundtrack.
Music I felt compelled to make come out of the mouths
of scores of people not much smaller then me.
They turned it. They’re still turning it.
They’re going to turn it for you right now.
The beat of their drums, the rhythm.
Let the voices of these men remind us
to sing unto God, maker of all
sure and strong.
Let the voices of these men remind us
who is like You God
Mah Tovu.