Friday 3 November 2017

On Sodom and Gommorr-y.

"Let's get together and be evil" - said no evil regime in history. No, oh no. They always had a terrific reason for what they were doing, and an explanation for why they could not have done it any other way. It's "national security", you know. Important. Alternatively, they sought to combat internal enemies, real or imagined. The "enemies of the people". With the appropriate graphics, of course. If you'd ask them, they would express heartfelt indignation about how those enemies make them behave, about how hard they are working to protect the national values, for the benefit of... bla bla. Most criminals also defend their actions, saying they had a very valid reason to do what they did. "She provoked me" type of talk.  While from the side, their actions appear unquestioningly evil. How does this happen?
This week we are reading in the Torah about Sodom and Gomorrah. They were so evil, that God poured fire and brimstone on them from the sky, and they were no longer. Swingers parties aside, our sources say God was angry because... they didn't invite guests. Really, God? My home is my castle, or is it not?
I could so imagine the rules of Sodom getting together to address the burning issue of the citizens of the city being endangered by "Ostenjuden" / illegal migrants/ newcomers. Perhaps they discussed building a Great Wall of Sodom. They voiced the need to defend their food supply, the cleanliness of thier water, and the purity of thier daughters. Perhaps they even drew appropriate plackards, with spider-looking agressive newcomers. A surging wave of patriotism swept the undesired elements and restored the purity of thier town. And then - ooops, what's this brimstone? And why, weren't they in the right?
Basically, you may transgress half of all commandments that regulate the relationships between people, at a drop of a hat. With one little argument on the bus. Or chasing away the kids who are being noisy in your parking lot.  While thinking correct patriotic clean thoughts. And even defending the Torah itself, as you see it.  There will be no brimstone. And that scares me even more. You feel ever so right, and you may be ever so wrong. This is not sodomy, but it's definitely Gomorr-y.
The Torah talks about the widow, the orphan, the "ger" - the newcomer. Halacha purists may stone me, but those categories are symbolic. Maybe there used to be more widows in the past, and now thank God there aren't. But in general, it refers to a person who has nobody to stand up for them. A person who will beseach God, and not thier rich uncle, because that's what they have. 
Think big. Think about the kid whose mother has cancer. Or the one whose father was in a car accident, and now he needs a wheelchair. The woman whose husband beats her in the darkness of thier bedroom. Think about the teenager whose parents threw her out, because she had a boyfriend. A girl whose seminary did not allow her to attend her mother's funeral, because the mother was secular. Think single mother whose ex refuses to pay alimony, and she steals from the kibbutz field to feed her kids. Think about the Holocaust survivor who has no alive soul to say hello to. Think about a 12 year old boy who realizes he is gay and wants to hang himself rather than be thrown out of school. Think about the addicts, who struggle to maintain any semblance of a life, and are terrified of people finiding out. People who struggle with mental illness, poverty, loneliness. A woman who's had a miscarriage, and she is too depressed to function. A man who lost his faith, and hides in his toilet every Shabbat to smoke and use his phone, so the kids won't see. A man who covers his shame and inability with crude jokes. I did not make any of this up. Unfortunately.
You know what, think even bigger. Think everybody. Because everybody has thier own personal hell. I am seeing it again and again. In today's world, everybody, EVERYBODY you meet is an orphan, a widow and a convert in one way or another. 
And that is why - if you can't open your home, at least close your mouth. Dixie.


Sunday 8 October 2017

Keepsakes from mom's closet



Look, heed, don’t forget,
See now, how fast,
A human life turns into dust.
At the speed of your thought,
At a wink of a memory.
A keepsake there -
Remember that day?
Auntie and uncle,
You've never met my kids.

A kerchief to keep.
A picture to hang.
Oh look, dear me, she did macramé.
A statue on the shelf.
Who'd ever think of that?
Some shameful rags.
A scarf to wrap. 
A painting of trees by a lake.  
Here's grandpa in a frame.
Hats - away, never to be seen again.
Books - I’ll place aside,
Let the rain take them,
Let the rats dine on them.
Bins don’t eat books,
If the humans are human.
But an old life goes right in.
Please take the bed,
No, no, it’s free, 
Just like the life that it used to warm.
Run, run, collect some more,
While the candle still burns.
Paper to paper,
Clothes spilling over,
Mildew and stale perfume, 
Rotting ears of books flung in the wind.
the body is taken by doctors,
The soul hanging by the door, 
Orphaned shoes cry in the rain,
Longing for feet, that
Will never fill them again.
Shelves vomit out
A neatly digested life,
Ready to conceive
More dreams, hatred and hope,
Rage and secrets,
Blood and pain,
A ticking pulse
A memory timer
Explodes ex nihilo,
We start over again.
Somebody, cut the cord.




Tuesday 19 September 2017

A prayer for my children, erev RH




When the cord is cut,
When the purple turns pink,
When the baby breathes and cries,
In the hushed silence
From the hot tears of joy,
Another cord is formed.
From heart to heart,
Sealed with blood,
A cord you can tug.
Until my grave and beyond,
I will beg and cry,
I will storm the gates,
A mother’s heart
Shall never rest.
Standing before Him,
With only one thought:
May the world be kind to you.
May every kindness you do,
Return to you tenfold.
May every good thought of mine,
Every good deed,
Be a blessing drawn to you,
Showered upon you,
Be a chance for you to do good.
When I stop for a tiny tot
Dragging his schoolbag,
I ask, may the other drivers see my children.
And may you always see other people’s children
Just in perfect time.
When I step aside to give way,
I think, may people recognize your needs.
And may you always recognize and honour theirs.
May you never be called upon to be a hero,
May you hear and be heard,
See and be seen,
Have validation and support,
Love and understanding.
May the Holy Land wrap you in its protection.
When I silence my objection,
To honour the other,
When I put myself aside,
When I swim through the abyss,
I ask, may your life be meaningful without suffering,
May you find meaning in joy,
May He scare you but never punish you,
May no darkness descend upon you,
May you offer Him full baskets,
Blessings of the Land, bathed in gratitude.
May your years be measured fully,
May you see the children of your children,
Five generation ahead.
May my prayers ring true
In front of the Holy One.
Reject not a mother’s heart,
For my own cord is only attached to You.







Sunday 10 September 2017

The lamentation of the Phoenix



Oh dear God Almighty,
Accept my weeping in front of Thy throne.
Turn not away from a soundless lamentation,
Heed the silent tears of Thy servant.
Why in your infinite high wisdom,
Did you create me a lustrous Phoenix?
The swan on the smooth lake doth glide,
A woodpecker on his branch swings.
A wise crow his truth doth tell,
A humble sparrow his joy chirps.
Do Thy fields lack for lambs,
Did Thy skies empty of song?
Did Thou lack satisfaction
From skylarks and magpies?
Sliver plumage did Thou bequest me,
Glowing crimson feathers bedeck my tail.
Every year my own pyre I must build,
From the finest aromatic woods.
Every year will the Phoenix Your Name beseech,
Before on the pyre my wings I shall fold.
The fire ignites them in an instant,
Oh the glowing burning fire.
On the pyre my head doth lean,
My orange rebellious head.
Feather by feather, organ by organ,
The fire consumes me whole.
A burnt offering
For Thou Almighty,
For Thine Glorious Name.
For thousands years,
Pyre and pyre,
Slow and steady,
Feather by feather,
Tail and plumage,
Into ashes will turn.
To rise and burn,
Over and over,
When, oh when
Will Thou have mercy on the lustrous Phoenix?