Roy Edri: "I Wanted to Sanctify Hashem's Name"

You might know him from a duet with Subliminal and The Shadow, or perhaps you've seen him on The Voice, successfully unsettling Aviv Geffen. Maybe you caught the program he hosted a few years ago on Channel 24, "Dibur Tzafuf," and saw the seeds of faith planted in him. Roy Edri, soul musician and singer, who embraces his second solo album "Shorashim" and stars in the Chanukah festival "Light in the Hall 2012", was born in Be'er Sheva 33 years ago. When his family moved to Los Angeles in the late '80s, he began connecting with music, joining the band Side Effect as a soloist at age 14, which later signed with a major U.S. record label.

Edri immigrated to Israel, went back abroad, embedded himself in the music industry here and mainly there, but his Jewish identity was always lurking in the background. He made sure to observe some commandments, but living in an almost non-Jewish environment is challenging. In 2007, he released his debut album, collaborating with Evyatar Banai, Kobi Oz, and others. Although it wasn't outwardly visible, he was on a journey towards Judaism. Last year, he participated in The Voice, and his Jewish identity was unambiguous. Just ask Aviv Geffen.

I watched your exchange with Aviv Geffen on The Voice. You went on stage to perform a song, and before you began, you quickly recited the "L'shem Yichud Kudsha Brich Hu." His reaction was that you were cynically using Hashem. That segment, I understand, was promoted in the program teasers. How did you feel at that moment? Try to recall the sensation.

"Honestly, a lot was going through my mind, but there was an inner voice saying, 'Okay, it's time to be silent. Be silent. Anything you say now will surely come from a defensive or unsettled place. So, take a step back, relax. Be silent. See what happens. Let Hashem do it.'"

But wasn't it hurtful? You come with good intentions, seeking divine assistance before performance, and the reaction is not very nice.

"That reaction was actually the best thing that happened to me. It's seemingly an embarrassment in front of many people, and if you respond, you don't truly accept the embarrassment. I had the fortune to remain silent at a moment of truth. And thanks to that moment, I saw that the response came from Shlomi Shabat, Sarit Hadad, Rami Kleinstein. They voiced what I wanted to say. In hindsight, I understood what Aviv Geffen meant. There's a lot of truth in what he says. He was saying, 'Okay, you want to pray? Pray backstage, and come to us clean without the blessing. This is a very sensitive spot for us; we're Jews. Of course, the prayer will touch me, I'm Jewish.'"

You knew that beforehand. I mean, you didn’t come completely naive, knowing it would have some impact.

"I came with a boldness called 'holy boldness.' I didn't want to go on stage and perform the song in English, knowing that now I have a religious appearance, without sanctifying Hashem's name publicly. This is why I joined this program initially, because I didn't want to perform such a thing. I didn't want to get to it. After a lot of consultations with many of my rabbinical figures, they said this is something necessary to do. So, I wasn't ready to go through that moment without some holiness. Even today, it's some mechanism preventing me from taking pride in that specific performance. Every time I see it on YouTube, it starts with 'L'shem Yichud Kudsha Brich Hu,' and I know that Hashem created, did, and arranged all these things. Very quickly, you can receive pride from such a performance, because it was truly strong and powerful."

Let's go back. You grew up in Be'er Sheva, the family moved abroad. Tell me a little about life in the U.S.

"We moved to Los Angeles, lived there for nearly five years. I studied in non-Jewish schools, 'public school.' I had a somewhat strange childhood. Coming from Be'er Sheva, a relatively small and rural place, to Los Angeles - everything becomes larger."

Later in the interview, Edri talks about the career he developed abroad, a car accident he experienced, and the process of truly connecting to Judaism, following his hosting of the "Dibur Tzafuf" program on Channel 24. "There, they gave me a hosts' room, and I began to see I had fans, both male and female, God forbid. I started realizing that my ego was rising higher and higher. Then I met Adam Ben-Lavi, the great Fishy, who had been a Breslov chassid for about 3-4 years. He brought all his faith into the program. I detected a truth in him that I probably hadn't seen since the Creation. Even then, I wasn't drawn in, but I believed every word that came out of his mouth."

So you rejected this truth for years. When did you actually start taking action?

"When I met my wife. My wife, may she live with Hashem’s help, is a righteous woman without don perignon. May she be healthy. I'm nothing-nothing without her. It's something special. We both started as secular. I told her 'Listen, this won't work. We need Judaism!' She said 'Yes? No problem.' The next day, she brought me a kippah, said 'Well, let's see you. Put the kippah on your head, start showing me Judaism.' She put me to such a test."

Did you get a little scared?

"No. I accepted it. After two years, after we were in a car accident together, I took upon myself to wear a tzitzit. This accident led us to the hospital, and there was this righteous man who gave me his tzitzit."

Do you feel like you're in some sort of disguise today?

"There are still costumes that fit. Certainly. You’re always full of disguises. Me, for example. Even on stage. It’s like prayer - you can focus greatly, and alternatively, God forbid, not be in the prayer at all. It's a kind of mask that sometimes fits us. In daily life, at any moment, you might find yourself disguised without wanting to be disguised. But we strive, we pray for it. It's work."

Do you feel more challenged today in terms of reaching audiences due to your return to faith?

"There's a place for it today, and there's an understanding, and it’s not a big deal. But you need to be vigilant at all times that you're not desecrating Hashem's name instead of sanctifying it. You come to try to awaken Jews, awaken souls. Music is a spiritual thing, after all."