Seventh Night: Before And After The Sea

 

Before The Sea

 

What I’m willing to leave behind in the narrow place:

 

Bricks, Whips, Forced labor

Blood, Packing, Yeast

Slavery, Racism, Masters

Danger, Weakness, Servitude

Plagues, Lies, Jew Haters

 

Netflix, My Room, Two-dimensions

Distance, Masks, Chapped Hands

Racism, Conspiracies, Death

Worry, Fear, Loneliness 

Plagues, Lies, Jew Haters

I put it all in my backpack

And put the pack down on the beach

Before I step into the Sea.

 

 

After The Sea   Now what? We’ve stepped into the water, We’ve crossed the Sea of Reeds. We said we would go and we went We’re here in the desert Now what?   What are we supposed to do now? Go out into the world, Talk to people? You want us to talk to people? In person?! Do we have to touch them? Are we supposed to touch them? Do we want to touch them? And ewww, they’re all so…three dimensional.   And in the new world of freedom there is Body odor And decisions.  We need to do stuff.  We didn’t want to leave our rooms.   We miss our pajamas.  We miss knowing that nothing was going to happen.   We miss the cucumbers of Egypt.  We will need to think about this, It could take years.

My Seder Plate

This year I don’t need symbols on my Seder plate.

This year I am very literal.

An egg is just an egg,

A bone represents only bones.

This year I’m all pshat.

Hate, Lies, Anger, Fear, Pain, Isolation, 

Death

Only an empty Seder plate can hold all that truth.

Benching Gomel After Receiving The Second Dose of the Vaccine

What is this feeling?

Three days ago

I received the second of two doses

Of the Moderna vaccine.

And this feeling, what is it?

I am so mindful of the privileges

Of skin, class, nationality, neighborhood

To access the vaccine

And I am not strong enough to turn it down.

And I am so mindful

Of the inspiration and efficiency,

The hard work and creativity

And the accumulation of knowledge

That brought me to this moment. 

No miracles were wanted or needed,

For this vaccine

Only science and money,

But still,

Isn’t it amazing?

What is this feeling?

Is this safety?

Do I feel...good?

Some of the fear 

Is over

For me.

May everyone everywhere receive their two doses

And may the side effects be mild and effective

And may we all feel good, and safe.

Blessed HaShleimut, the Holy Wholeness,

Creating Sanctuary

We give thanks.

Amen

Hagar's Prayer*

   

      Blessed One-ness, Breathing Existence,

I once was Sarah:Rich,Loved,Able to laugh at everything,Even God,Especially God.I had a place, a home, a mission.

But now I'm Hagar:Broke,Alone,About to cry at everything,Even God.Especially God.Wandering, in the desert, hungry. 

This is my fault.I should have seen this comingI should have protected myself,I refused to accurately assess my situation.Oh, the fantasies I had of love and success.

No! This is Sarah's fault,She, with her connectionsAnd her covenantAnd no room for anyone else.Oh, the promises she made when she needed me.

No, this is Abraham's fault!He pretends to have no agencyBut he's the one with the money and the power,He's the one who talks to God (or so he says).Oh, the bullshit he slings about destiny.

All I have now is a cat named IshmaelAnd he expects to be fedAnd watered.Meow Meow, he's starving.I can't look at him,Oh, I can't watch him die.All I can do is pray.

Blessed One-nessBreathing Existence,Send me a social workerOr food stampsOr a lotto ticketOr friendsOr a magical flowing spring of plenty that pours out from the rocks.

Or something.Amen. 
*Originally Printed in Journal of Feminist Studies In Religion: #35, 1

Chapter 5: Zeresh, the Karen of Shushan

 Zeresh, Haman’s wife,

Egging on her vile spouse,

Screaming, Kill the Jews!

The Shushan equivalent of Karen,

Screaming, Black men!

Dialing 911

About the bird watcher

Or the candy buyer

Or the driver

Or the walker

Or the swimmer

Or the runner

Or the sleeper

Or the voter.

 

Hag Purim Sameakh

The 9th Chapter: We Won And They Lost

 

And so, on the thirteenth day of the twelfth month, when the king’s command and decree were to be executed, the very day on which the enemies of the Jews had expected to get them in their power, the opposite happened, and the Jews got their enemies in their power.*

 

So what happens when we win?

Not by much

And in the nick of time.

It so easily could have gone the other way.

And though there’s lots of us

There’s plenty of them

And they are cruel

But then so are we.

What to do?

 

Do we forgive and forget?

Do we try to change hearts and minds?

Or do we strike at our enemies with the sword?

Do we slay and destroy

Just like they were going to slay and destroy us?

Even those who had nothing to do with it?

Are they permanently them?

Are we forever only us?

 

Shall we be cruel?

Shall we impale their children on the stake

And then forget them?

It’s strangely tempting.

 

Weren’t they stupid?

Aren’t our comedians clever?

So do we laugh in the face of their grief

And celebrate their deaths and their disgraces?

But what is the line

Between satire and derision?

Between defense and revenge?

How do we resist answering hate for hate, violence for violence?

Do we try to reconcile?

Should we try to be nice on principle?

What if they’re not interested in us being nice, ever?

Can’t it be enough to laugh at them,

Do we have to also slay and destroy them?

Can’t we maybe talk instead?

Blessed One-ness

What are our obligations here?

We won and they lost and we are glad.

But perhaps we need help

To remember their humanity

While we party.

Hag Purim Sameakh

Amen.

*JPS translation

Second Cup Of Wine

We are about to drink that second cup of wine, 

The beginning of the Maggid section of the Seder,

As we tell the story 

Of how we left the narrow place.

In the Talmud, Rabbi Hanina says that

Human versions of God’s vast intent are as unripened fruit,

Filled with potential,

Perceived completely only by God.  

Hanina says that the unripened fruit of prophecy is a dream.

Which is kind of cool. 

So I speculate,

As grapes become wine

So does the unripened fruit of truth 

Become the story.

We tell tales with beginnings, middles and ends

Around our seder table, 

And our mythology tells us who we were

Which helps a lot,

Almost as much as that second cup of wine.

So

Blessed Holy Wholeness

We give thanks 

For the fruits of the earth

And our minds.

Amen

This Day

Art by Carolyn Hall

Blessed Yah, Creator, Created, Creating...

We pray for change and hope,

For ourselves and the world:

Instead of anger, we choose kindness.

Instead of revenge, we choose justice.

Instead of resentment, we choose empathy.

Instead of work, we choose rest.

Instead of ideology, we choose compromise.

Instead of destruction, we choose community.

Instead of fear, we choose endurance.

Instead of acquiescence, we choose resistance. 

Instead of invective, we choose prayer.

Instead of violence, we choose peace.

Blessed Yah, Creator, Created, Creating...

We give thanks for this day of change and hope.

And let us say, Amen.

Tree in a Rain Forest: A Guided Meditation

Breathing In 

Breathing out. 

Every breath a prayer. 

See yourself

In a forest,

A dark and deeply green

Rain forest.

The air is moist and thick but cool,

The leaves drip water. 

See the fungus attached to fallen trees, then

Look for the bugs

And small animals,

And the seedlings atop the

Rotting wet wood that’s 

Dead but vibrant with 

Bug homes 

And plant nurseries. 

The ground is real life mulch,

Squishy under your feet.

Walk. 

Look around and select a tree, 

This will be your tree. 

You know your tree

And it knows you.

Examine your tree

From top to bottom.

Is it taller than you?

Old or a sapling?

What do its leaves look like?

Stand next to your tree and 

Say hello. 

Breathe it in.  

Breathe in its respiration:

Creativity and oxygen,

Growth and carbon dioxide—

Every breath is a prayer. 

Sit down and lean against your tree.

The forest floor is moist and your ass gets wet

As you reach back to touch the tree with your hands,

Gently.

Feel the  bark.

Can you sense the movement inside?

The leaves and the roots 

Feeding and watering the entire structure. 

Isn’t it magnificent?

Now listen to your tree: 

Shema. 

What do you hear?

The drizzling rain 

Passes through the forest canopy and

Falls on your face, your lap, your hiking boots. 

It’s time to go home. 

Taste the wet air that gives your tree its life.

Breath of the Universe,

We see and smell and touch and taste and listen and feel

And pray with the trees,

And we give thanks. 

Breathe in.

Breathe out. 

Amen.  

Blessing For A Tree In The City

Illustration by Steve Silbert

In front of my window on the first floor 

Lives a tree

I think of as mine

Though of course it belongs to the City.

My favorite event of the year is that warm day in April 

When the dark red buds of my tree

And most of the trees on the block

Break open in small lime green leaves.  Whoosh!

Last fall the City put a fence around

My tree’s tiny plot of land

So maybe the dogs would stop pissing on it. 

I don’t think it worked.

Remember that summer

When a flock of green parrots

Flew over from Greenwood Cemetery 

And hung out in my green tree for days?

A couple of years ago some of the branches broke off in a storm. 

The City left them in the street

To rot for weeks

And then they came and sawed off more branches.

I’m worried about my tree.

I’m worried that my tree is too successful,

That the roots will start to break up the sidewalk 

And then the City will cut it down.

Holy Wholeness,

I give thanks for the way my tree cleans our air.

I give thanks for the way my tree shades my apartment.

I give thanks for the home my tree provides to the block’s squirrels and birds. 

I give thanks for my tree’s undressed beauty in the winter.

May my tenacious tree live its fullest life! 

May it never be lonely,

All the city trees reaching out with their roots, 

Chatting with friends.

And I bless the City for its imperfect caretaking. 

Amen​.