Rabbi Dan Moskovitz: Boy George’s journey to my Vancouver synagogue

When I first heard Boy George’s new song, We Will Dance Again, I was in my car driving back from yet another meeting about security and rising antisemitism in Canada. As the senior rabbi of one of the largest Jewish congregations in Canada, I estimate 30 per cent of my time is spent combating Jew hate and protecting the physical and emotional safety of my community.

The song speaks plainly about October 7, the hostages, Israel’s right to defend itself and the selective memory that erases Jewish suffering. It opens with a clear moral distinction, “You say genocide, I say war / When you’re attacked, that’s what the army’s for / Does it get ugly? You bet it does / When I know you wanna kill / Every last one of us.”

I had to pull over. I played the song, first released on his X feed, twice because I couldn’t believe my ears were hearing what my soul had been yearning for.

In fact, it was almost as if he anticipated my astonishment. “If you’re ever confused,” he sang, “I stand with the Jews / I don’t feel brave, I just need to behave like a human”

Sadly, some among my own Jewish people have been unwilling to take so clear a position of solidarity.

As he has done throughout his career, Boy George spoke the plain, unvarnished truth as he saw it, social convention be damned, and he set it to a snappy reggae tune you can dance to.

Boy George has a complicated past. He faced appropriate consequences and has spoken openly about his mistakes. That history should not be erased, but more than three decades as a rabbi have taught me that human beings are more than the worst chapter(s) of their lives.

Parked on the side of the road, I found an email address for his management and wrote him a letter I never thought he’d answer. But I wrote it anyway. I am a man of faith, after all.

I told him I wanted to hug him, but that the hug would not be only from me, it would be from thousands of Jews and our allies who have been waiting nearly three years to hear such words from someone with his reach and influence.

Two weeks later, he walked into my synagogue, and I gave him that hug.

I have listened to Boy George since I was a teenager dancing to Culture Club at youth group parties and even my prom. I never imagined that one day I would welcome him to the pulpit of Temple Sholom in Vancouver, before nearly 800 allies and members of our Jewish community.

We learned that evening that the song was inspired by George’s visit to the Nova music festival exhibition in London, England. He told us with clear emotion in his voice that as a singer and DJ who has performed at festivals around the world, he recognized that world. He walked into the exhibit with its carefully preserved dance space, colourful tents, tapestries and abandoned belongings and it was as though he was in his own home that had been violated. He saw the photographs of young people murdered for the crime of dancing. He met survivors and the parents of Jake Marlowe, a British man murdered on October 7. He promised one survivor that he would write a song.

One Friday night, sitting at home, he did. He released the first version without consulting his manager because, as he told us, “I didn’t want to be told not to do it.”

Most public figures employ people precisely to tell them what not to do. They calculate the market, anticipate the backlash and sand down every dangerous edge until they say nothing, or at least nothing anyone could possibly find objectionable.

While recording the final version, he told us, he burst into tears.

The backlash was immediate. George was denounced and threatened with boycotts. Activists demanded that Vancouver’s Pacific National Exhibition cancel his scheduled concert.

Then something remarkable happened.

The Centre for Israel and Jewish Affairs and the Jewish Federation of British Columbia, led by Ezra Shanken, organized a letter-writing campaign. More than 10,000 people urged the PNE to stand by George and allow the concert to proceed.

The PNE did.

That decision deserves recognition. In the three years since October 7, too many arts institutions, particularly here in British Columbia, have backed down before bullies and called their cowardice prudence. They invoke “safety,” “sensitivity,” or “community harmony.” The language is polished, but the lesson is dangerous: create enough anger and you will be given a veto.

The PNE refused to teach that lesson.

Courage is contagious. George stood his ground. Thousands of Canadians stood with him. The PNE kept the stage open.

George then made another important choice. He did not perform “We Will Dance Again” at the PNE.

He understood that the audience, of which I was a part, had come to a summer concert to sing, dance and enjoy the music. They had not consented to attend a political rally.

He respected them enough not to hold them captive to his politics.

Performers such as Macklemore and Kneecap have turned concerts into platforms for hostile, one-sided political propaganda, forcing audiences who came for music to become participants in their causes.

George had every opportunity to answer his critics from the PNE stage. He chose instead to give the audience the concert they had purchased tickets to see.

Two nights later, he came to Temple Sholom, where the purpose was different and everyone knew why we had gathered.

There he spoke openly about the song, the threats and the Jewish friends and strangers who had written to thank him. Then, in a synagogue filled with people who understood its meaning, he performed “We Will Dance Again” live for the first time.

That night, I watched people cry, smile and rise to dance. In the days that followed, messages have poured in calling the evening magical, joyful and unforgettable.

Their gratitude revealed how lonely many Canadian Jews have felt.

When it was over, I gave Boy George the hug I promised him, and presented him with a shofar, the biblical ram’s horn blown to wake us from our slumber and call us to action. Officially, it was presented on behalf of the Jewish community of British Columbia, but as I said in the moment, truthfully it was on behalf of Jews and our allies everywhere.

Courage is contagious. May other artists catch it and appear at a synagogue, Jewish community centre or public forum near you. We need more artists like George to stop being confused and stand with the Jews against those who seek to terrorize and destroy us. Every rabbi I know has an extra shofar in the office. Come and get one. It will come with a hug.

Rabbi Dan Moskovitz (@rabbidanmosk) is the Senior Rabbi of Temple Sholom in Vancouver.