As we recently turned the calendar to the New Year—a year shrouded in uncertainty, with fires raging in Los Angeles and the ongoing Middle East conflict breaking our hearts—it feels like the perfect moment to share an unexpected story of hope.
This past summer, I found myself performing in Wittenberg, Germany—a city steeped in history, both inspiring and deeply troubling. Wittenberg is the birthplace of the Lutheran movement, the place where Martin Luther sparked the Protestant Reformation. But it’s also a city with a darker legacy. Luther, I knew, was a rabid antisemite. What I hadn’t realized until recently was that the Nazis had weaponized his hateful writings to justify the Final Solution.
Above: An example of Martin Luther's anti-Jewish essays
And yet, my time in Wittenberg was unexpectedly beautiful and full of promise.
I had been invited there to share two of my Jewish liturgical songs as part of a celebration marking the 500th anniversary of the original Lutheran hymnal, first published in 1524. Through a twist of fate (*bashert*, destiny—call it what you will), two of my songs are being included in this historic anniversary edition. That weekend marked their debut, alongside a conference exploring the hymnal’s legacy.
Above: Downtown Wittenberg, Germany
As I prepared to perform in this city of profound contradictions, I couldn’t ignore its troubled past. The main church in town still bears a grotesque sculpture from the 12th century depicting Jewish figures suckling a pig—a vile relic of antisemitic propaganda. At the same time, directly beneath that offensive statue lies a Holocaust memorial, inscribed in Hebrew, mourning the six million Jews who perished. It was a juxtaposition that felt almost surreal, a stark reminder of both humanity’s capacity for hatred and its potential for reflection and change.
Above: The City Church with the two contradictory statues
On the evening of my performance, I took the stage with these tensions swirling in my mind. As I began to sing “Oseh Shalom” and “When We Sing (We Pray Twice)”, something remarkable happened. The church bells began to ring—bells from the same spire that I imagine once summoned Martin Luther to prayer. Their echoes blended with the melody, creating a moment that felt like both a reckoning and a reconciliation.
That night, wasn’t just about performing songs; it was part of a larger, urgent conversation. The local church leader and I spent time discussing antisemitism, hatred, and what role we could play—together—to combat these forces. The dialogue was honest, thoughtful, and necessary.
In the shadow of Martin Luther’s home, in the face of a rising tide of antisemitism around the world, we had begun something important. But it was just a beginning.
Above: The former home of Martin Luther where we performed songs from the upcoming Hymnal
In 2025, may we all use our passions, talent, time, and energy to build more bridges wherever and whenever they are needed. Taking on such a responsibility can feel overwhelming, frightening, and exhausting. And, at the same time, stepping outside our comfort zones and becoming part of something bigger than ourselves can bring a deeply satisfying sense of purpose and meaning to our lives. As Rabbi Hillel the Elder, a Jewish sage from the first century BCE, taught us in his well-known ethical teachings found in Pirkei Avot—
"If not now, when?"
Click the photo below to watch a short iPhone clip of “Oseh Shalom” from that night in Wittenberg. We actually didn't have time to rehearse…but, somehow, the music all came together as we took a small step, side by side, in a song of peace.
Above: The concert in the courtyard of the former home of Martin Luther.
Oh, and I almost forgot…click HERE for my winter touring schedule. I'll be n the West Coast and in Nashville.
Wishing you all a happy, healthy, meaningful, and inspiring 2025. To my friends in Los Angeles, I’m keeping you close to my heart and in my prayers. Sending you a big hug and lots of love across the miles. May better days be just up ahead.
In harmony,
Michael