Journal of Unification Studies Volume XI (2010)
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Journal of Unification Studies Volume XI (2010) |
for M, a Jewish friend
Behold, he who keeps Israel will
neither slumber nor sleep.
Ps. 121:4
Visiting your ancestral homeland for the first time,
you say
that you had the best sleep
of your life –
the kind that
only babies have!
I know what you mean but I pray
that you wake quickly
to the
facts across town;
where the lines are being redrawn
and homes
declared illegal
by bureaucratic fiat
to be bulldozed, without
compensation.
Occupants,
no, I mean families;
to be exact, non-Jewish
families,
removed by armed soldiers
following faceless orders
from above
to soon stand, teeth gnashing,
in utter despair
amid
unrecognizable rubble
children screaming, crying
their toys
crushed,
their world gone,
now exposed to life's inequities
at
all too young an age.
Wake up!
There on the other side of town
enemies are being
made;
yea, mass produced –
a house goes down,
a wall
goes up
cutting off the 'Arabs' from you
and each other and
jobs.
Soon you both will be totally
estranged from each other.
Wake up –
there on the other side [of town]
someone
is
having a nightmare,
someone's
arm is reaching out
as they
are being pulled under by a tide of hate!
Wake up –
join me in my sleeplessness.
For what kind
of friend would I be
to let you sleep in false tranquility?
for all those who live there, especially my friends
Inside the old city of Jerusalem
there are many walls
with
stone dry as bone bleached in desert sun
upon which,
in stark
contrast and in random locations,
tenaciously and wondrously
cling
tufts of green plants;
their names being
Peace, Shalom
and Salaam Alaikum.
Surrounding Jerusalem
there are rounded rocky parched
hills
upon which gnarly twisted shrubs and trees
amazingly
persist.
They are the cousins of
Peace, Shalom and Salaam
Alaikum
and their names are
Hope, Faith and Perseverance.
In and around Jerusalem
there are countless barren spots
and
dusty empty lots
upon which are strewn
innumerable stones and
rocks,
unlike those of my Long Island,
they are coarse and
harsh
with sharp protruding edges
and in the hands of the
displaced and occupied
their names are
Hate, Anger and
Frustration.
Above the thirsty troubled land
there is a pretty blue but
empty sky;
the dry earth and plants below
cry out, wait and
silently pray
for the return of messianic clouds
whose names
are
Prosperity, Forgiveness and Abundance.
Upon the many municipal hilltops
are dwellings,
stacked and
tiered
spreading outward and down
made of that dry bleached
stone,
which when hit by beams of golden sunlight
are
mystically transformed
to an ethereal gleam
of cities that seem
so close and yet so far away
their names being
Redemption,
Heaven and Paradise.
Attending the Dialogue
at a time of terrible tragedy
between
Israelis and Palestinians.
Many had much to say
but the one who
said most of all
sat,
lips shivering, body trembling,
as
rivers of words
ran silently down her cheeks.
There is within
every man
a Judas:
grievance,
jealousy
that can fester, overwhelm
and bring down
the
un-inoculated soul.
There is within
every man
a Christ;
for otherwise
how
would we recognize
the light, the spark,
that pinch of
leaven
by which our soul
can rise up to heaven.
Then:
a Judean village,
a cold night,
a barn of sorts,
a
baby born,
angels attending,
curious shepherds dropping in,
a
guiding star,
strangers bearing gifts.
God watching,
a jealous king fearing for his
sovereignty,
Barabbas scheming crime.
Love seeking a way out.
Not long ago:
a Korean village,
a cold night,
a
thatched-roof house,
a newborn's cry,
rice-growing farmers
stopping by,
a mysterious golden crane arrives,
villagers
bringing ginseng and herbs.
God all around,
trouble makers aplenty,
Japanese potentates
with iron-like grip,
an almond-eyed Judas lurking in the
shadows.
Love rising from the rice paddies
taking root,
growing, pollinating
a new Roman Empire
and then the world
beyond.
Who's to say there can't and won't be another 'silent night' catching all by surprise. Pick an unlikely place and meditate on it.