Akedah
Two
The
binding of the favored, the promised,
did
not happen once on now what we call,
the
Temple Mount.
There,
on that day, in the white heat. a lesser
being
stopped the hand of the father, and
then
pointed to the ram.
Repeated,
at the edge of a river, in the reeds,
another
binding permanently mangled the
sciatic
nerve, never now
To
be eaten, sacred, set aside because of the
Hand
of God. This binding ended in a
blessing,
demanded
Given
out of mercy and justice, to prove to
the
chosen one that, yes, he was chosen,
and
to limp until he died.
So
the binding continued, year after year,
the hesed tying
unruly men to God, who
wrestled
with them
Willingly,
over and over. So, too, do
I
wrestle, in pain, with the same nerve
reminding
me of
The
ancestor at the river's edge, daring to
demand
of God Himself the covenant.
I
ask myself,
Why
do some have to strive, to enter into
the
combat, to feel the Hand of the Angel
pierce
the nerve?
Why
do some walk crooked, with a stick
prodding
the sand and ruefully recognizing
weakness,
faults, sins?
Jacob's akedah marks
Abraham's binding,
as
I am bound by God in this ageless game
of
blessing or curse.
Obeying
out of trial, knowing the answer lies
in
the Holy Book, for
if thou hast been strong
against
God,
How much
more shalt thou prevail against men?
I
have wrestled and lost, wrestled and won,
wrestled
without
Results. Akedát
Yitzḥák,
but who is testing
Who?
Do I test God, as He tests me by
wrestling
in darkness?
Jacob
demanded justice, as he tested the
Angel,
God Himself, but not without
Adam's
mark.
So,
today, I limp away, leaving the cool
reeds
at Jaboc's ford, moving away into
the
sunrise, beyond
Phanuel,
where God was met, face to face
and
Jacob survived to tell the tale
as
we are impelled
To
do, and move on into the sunrise
of
a new day.
(note...Akedah One was written at Notre Dame and published in the poetry mag then. I do not have a copy of that poem with me on this computer.)
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