The last person to kiss Yitzhak Rabin came to Harvard two Sundays ago. The man who embraced the Israeli prime minister just minutes before his assassination is no politician and no general, but Israel’s foremost rockstar, Aviv Geffen. What’s strange, though, is that Geffen could just as easily have spoken at the Institute of Politics as performed at Paine Hall. This antiestablishment preacher of peace is as political as they come.

He has been chased off the stage by stone-throwing fundamentalists. He was forced into exile by countless death threats. He has even been taken to the Israeli Supreme Court by a small-town mayor trying to silence his voice. The Supreme Court ultimately ruled in his favor, and most of the public has learned to embrace his music and tolerate his mannerisms, if not to accept his message. Amidst this controversy one thing is clear—the packed Paine Hall loved him.

More or less the entire audience’s pre-show chatter was in Hebrew. Many of the seats were filled with pre-teen Israeli girls dressed for a Britney concert, as well as by couples with hair approaching silver who might have been their parents. Harvard students and twenty-somethings dominated, and all were speaking in Hebrew. The composition of the audience reinforced a key question about Geffen’s music: Can it be meaningful if the listener can’t understand the lyrics?

Without a doubt, the man is known more for his skill with words than his vocal or instrumental talent. No normal 21 year-old rockstar would have been invited to play at that fated peace rally in what is now Rabin Square in Tel Aviv, especially not one who had insulted the prime minister just weeks before. It might help that his father, Yonaton, is a famous folk singer and that he is the nephew of former Israeli Minister of Defense Moshe Dayan, but it is Geffen’s lyrics that make his music important, his lyrics that make him more than just a pop icon.

In concert however, it was clear that understanding the individual lyrics is quite different from realizing his songs’ meanings. Through his music and his emotional modulation, Geffen conveyed the fundamental sense of each song. Geffen’s songs have a spirit that transcends linguistic barriers; his recordings hint at this, but in person, this spirit emerges in full force.

He sat first at the piano, pounding out a simple but strong accompaniment to his full-bodied voice. These songs were more folk than rock, and drew heavily on the tradition of his father and his self-proclaimed influences, John Lennon and Bob Dylan. His audience recognized this and sang along with him on every song they knew, which was just about all of them. He switched to acoustic guitar and a harder sound after a few songs. These were rock ballads with titles like “I Love You” and “Our Song.” He followed with a Dylan tune perfectly preserved in its translation into Hebrew. Geffen truly captures the aura of the ’60s folk-rocker.

His interjection of politics into his performance reflects that ethos, as well. At the start of the show he was quiet, moving seriously from song to song without connecting to the audience. As he warmed to us and we to him, interaction increased and he spoke to us in English, telling anecdotes and outlining his politics. This began suddenly, when he said before a song, “I want real peace...I want respect. I want us to respect the Arabs and I want them to respect us.” The house replied with cheers of agreement. Either there was genuine support for peace and understanding in Israel among these fans or their love for Geffen and his music is so great that they would cheer no matter what he said. Probably both were important.

When Geffen told the story of Rabin’s assassination, he made it clear that he and Rabin shared the same goal of peace. He saw Rabin as a bearer of hope for Israel’s future, but then saw him die only meters from his feet. At a memorial service for Rabin, Shimon Peres said, “We have lost a leader but gained a generation.” That generation is Geffen’s generation, and he is its leader, its symbol and its hope for the future. Geffen was known for years as a conscientious objector in a nation without the option to object. But this year, as Israel spirals ever further away from peace, Geffen draws his generation closer and the power of Geffen’s music to move and convey his message is clearly not dependent on language. This fall, the diehard pacifist and conscientious objector even joined the army, if only as an entertainer for the troops.