AMEN SONGS: Anthem (Chess)
July 2, 2025
Rabbi Cantor Eyal Bitton highlights a song that connects with this year’s Congregation Neveh Shalom theme, “Amen – Be a Blessing.”
“Anthem” from the musical Chess is a deeply moving declaration of love for one’s homeland—not for its government or its policies, but for its spirit, its people, and its enduring essence. With lines like “No man, no madness, though their sad power may prevail, can possess, conquer, my country’s heart,” the song affirms that true patriotism is not blind allegiance but rooted devotion. It’s a song that captures the struggle of identity, loyalty, and conscience—especially poignant as we celebrate the Fourth of July, a day that honors freedom, independence, and the ongoing project of building a more just society. In the spirit of our theme, “Amen – Be a Blessing,” “Anthem” reminds us that one of the ways we can be a blessing is by holding fast to the values and vision of our nation, even in times of disagreement or struggle.
This message resonates powerfully with Parashat Chukat, a portion marked by both mystery and leadership under pressure. We encounter the enigmatic law of the red heifer, the death of Miriam, and Moses’ moment of failure at the waters of Merivah—a moment that costs him his entry into the Promised Land. Despite disappointment, Moses continues to lead with love for his people and for the land they are approaching. “Anthem” reflects that same emotional complexity. Love for one’s land is not about perfection or unbroken triumph; it’s about standing by it in moments of hardship, holding onto its deeper promise. Just as Moses remains devoted to a future he will not personally reach, the song calls us to remain devoted to the ideals that outlive any single generation.
As we mark the Fourth of July and read Parashat Chukat, we are reminded that identity—whether national or spiritual—is not static. It is shaped by memory, by sacrifice, and by the longing to live out the highest truths we claim. “Anthem”encourages us to see our love of country not as something naïve or uncritical, but as a commitment to making it better. Likewise, our relationship to the Jewish people and the Land of Israel is deepened not by sentiment alone, but by faithful engagement with its complexities. To sing “This is my land” is to embrace both its beauty and its brokenness—and to take part in its healing. That is what it means to be a blessing: to love, to serve, and to believe in what our homeland—and our tradition—can become.


