A Sublime and Troubling Performance by the Israel Philharmonic in San Francisco

San Francisco’s Davies Symphony Hall has hosted some of the worlds most renown orchestras, including the Berlin Philharmonic, the Academy of St. Martin in the Fields, and the Israel Philharmonic.

I have seen the Israel Philharmonic perform at Davies several times over the past couple of decades. And as I sat in my home in San Francisco on the evening of March 23, 2025, having just returned from watching this orchestra play with such grandeur and passion, dignity and subtlety, sometimes evoking the depths of contemplation and other times elevating one to moments where the spirit just wants to fly gracefully–under the masterful and elevated conducting of Lahav Shani, thirty six years old and a charisma that will no doubt bring him to the highest musical places–I felt shaken by such musical brilliance and by the intensity of angst that pervaded the hall.

I have experienced protests against Israel at performances of the Israel Philharmonic. But what happened on this night was of an entirely different kind and level. It would not be an overstatement to state that there was an unmistakable sense of anxiety and an undercurrent of fear that pervaded the hall. And security seemed to be woefully lacking.

It felt as though one was breaking through an intensely acrimonious picket line of anti-Israel protesters upon reaching the entrance to the symphony. The vitriol was not unexpected , but the volume and seething anger seemed quite intense.

The concert started with a deeply affecting version of the Star Spangled Banner, reflecting Israel’s enduring love for America. And it continued with a version of Israel’s anthem, Hatikvah, that touched ones heart and soul, a gesture of peace and humanity.

And as this was being played, a couple displaying the Palestinian flag in the space between the orchestra and the first row of seats became loud as they tried to continue walking in front of the stage. They were virtually tackled by a couple of people in the first row and pushed out of sight.

The concert continued and as it did a woman yelled that Israel was “murdering children”. This occurred during a performance of Kol Nidrei by Max Bruch that seemed to unite the soul of man from antiquity to the present–it seemed to embody the meaning of Kol Nidrei, its essence in every instrument that played–such is the miracle and magic of music.

There was more shouting of “genocide” during the playing of Leonard Bernstein’s Halil, interrupting Guy Eshed’s captivating flute.

And then, after the intermission, during Tchaikovsky’s Symphony No. 5, as the orchestra was reaching an climactic moment, a man in the first row of Loge seats, looking down upon the orchestra, shouted piercingly above the music that the orchestra were “cultural ambassadors for genocide.” He was forcibly removed by other patrons.

I was not able to see it but have heard that several of the musicians had tears in their eyes at this point, but their spirit continued to play and soar–playing music of healing despite the hatred.

The music continued to play ever so passionately and radiantly. And as an encore the orchestra played–and it felt as though it was being played by the soul of God directed to the soul of every person that so craved and needed the orchestra on this night–the Hatikvah once again–a plea for global peace.

Several months ago I was invited to attend a performance of a tiny subset of the Israel Philharmonic–a recently formed chamber orchestra–as a fund raiser for the orchestra. It was at the home of a family in San Francisco. I cannot quite remember what was played on that evening, but I do remember that as I sat in the chair in someones living room, tears came to my eyes. The music was stunning, and the sense of being here, a couple of feet away from these incredible and soulful musicians, brought deep joy but also sadness.

I felt sadness for what Israel experienced on October 7, 2023. It was the first time since the horror of that day that these musicians were able to travel outside of Israel. One of the musicians told the story of one of his compositions. He told the story of being present at a Kibbutz on October 23–his life had been spared, but not the case for many others of his friends. The cello ached as the orchestra told the story of this tragedy. It is pure blood thirsty, diabolical evil that was never condemned by the United Nations, a horror that actually brought exhilaration to many people in the world that see Hamas–the murderous entity funded by Iran to destroy Israel and Jews, their heroes ravaging families and calling on their cell phones to rave about their successes–as the only answer for the Palestinian people. This hatred toward Israel in the name of Hamas continues to be celebrated in many corners of America and the world.

The players in that small chamber orchestra were somewhere in the concert hall on this night–and their souls were aching. And my soul was aching for them as I listened to this musical brilliance, this sublime connection of antiquity to the present, this pure magic and music of God.

They played despite the hate, they played above the shrieks, they played for humanity, for peace, for brotherhood. What more could they do ? This was all they could do.

Bruce Farrell Rosen
San Francisco