Finding My Song: Reflections from the Hinenu Program (Part 2)

By Michal Simson

I expected Hinenu to be informative, explorative and fulfilling. What I did not expect was the profound impact it had on my identity. I went on this programme as the only participant from Australia, though I have never been shy about making a new friend. What struck me most was the storytelling.

Since October 7th, storytelling has been hijacked by news outlets, social media platforms and second-hand information. I have a deep love affair with the Tanach because it is not a history book, but the most intimate retelling of the figures who built Judaism and, subsequently, Israel. More often than not, it describes in great detail their failings, their hardships and their moments of pure humanness. Additionally, there are thousands of commentaries across the ages dissecting every inch of their lives, all in an attempt to help us become better humans not to seek perfection, not to become angels detached from the world around us, but to become more deeply human.

On Hinenu, we began our journey in Jerusalem, moved to the South and the North, and concluded in Tel Aviv. This programme was not a tour of Israel, but a showcasing of the stories of Israel. We heard from advocates, hostage family members, kibbutzniks, those who have recently made Aliyah and those who were there when Israel was still a dream. The subheading of the programme was Dreams and Dilemmas, and the framework utilised, World of Meaning, encompassing the elements of dreams, nightmares, memory, us and them, culminated in a symphony of what it means to be part of the Jewish people.

On our last bus ride, I sat next to a participant, Raphi, from South Africa who is the head of the informal department at one of the Jewish day schools. He told me that humans are magnificent creatures because of our ability to speak and converse, but it is only effective when one person speaks at a time. As soon as many people speak, all is lost. However, when we sing, the contrary happens. The more people sing together, the more powerful it becomes; imperfect voices are dispersed and exceptional voices do not outshine others but uplift them.

There is no single narrative that has emerged from October 7th, just as there has never been a single narrative in Jewish or Israeli history. Jews cannot agree on everything because there is no one thing to agree upon. I have been thinking a great deal about when the right time is to speak and when it is to sing. For most of the trip I stayed silent, soaking up every opportunity I was given, desperately trying to write down everything I saw, smelt, heard and touched.

I hope to bring back to Bialik song, a way for our community and all the stories that exist in Israel to add to one another. I believe song is such an integral part of Judaism because, for all the moments when we must defend and fight, with song we can simply feel. We become uninhibited by the world around us. Our stories become intimate again. They become ours again and, most importantly, they are heard not in competition, but in unison. Through our informal classes but specifically our year 9 curriculum that leads into Zionist seminar, I endeavour to share more Israeli voices and experiences in order to further diversify students’ opinions and create perspectives that are built on storytelling. Additionally, I want to explore with students what stories are heard and what stories stay silent and how we can better listen out for those that go unheard.

Hinenu was informative, explorative and fulfilling, but most importantly it had a profound effect on my song.