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May 2014 |
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EXODUS, Midrashic Poems By Janet Ruth Heller The poems in Exodus are modern midrashim, re-interpretations and psychological explorations of the people and events in the Bible. A central metaphor is the exodus from Egypt, which represents the journeys that people make: trying new experiences, leaving a bad relationship, finding a new job, taking risks. Many of the poems are dramatic monologues from the perspective of a character in the Jewish Scriptures. Noah My boat is tossed by waves, buffeted by winds from the storm, battered by torrents of rain. It is so dark that day blurs into night. As the ship pitches, the animals groan. My children are seasick. After five months of storms, a heavy silence hangs between me and my wife. Then the rain slackens and our ship comes to rest upon the mountains of Ararat. We wait for seven more months, listening to the howl of the winds. Hoping for a miracle, I send out a plump dove. She returns at eventide with an olive leaf. The children scream with joy. My wife and I embrace. Our feet tread gently on the firm ground. It feels strange not to be tossed as we walk. Without the sound of rain, the world seems hushed and still like a synagogue on Atonement Day. Slowly, a rainbow arches across the sky, as colorful as Josephs coat.
Israel I wanted to flee from Esau, to escape his taunts and his bands of thugs. I ran to the river Yabbok, but you seized me and we began to wrestle. In the gloom between twilight and dawn, I struggle with you, clinging to your torso, always maneuvering, demanding your name. Sometimes you twist my sinews and my heart; sometimes you strain my back and my thigh; sometimes we hold one another, amazed at our own power. Until you bless me, I will not let go.
Rachel, to Rebekah In my travail, you hold me, your round arms freckled like fawns, your body as large as your heart. Under the oak tree, you tell me stories about Jacob: the time he stole the birthright and the time you helped him win his fathers blessing. I want my son to be like Jacob. We entered this family of chosen ones because we were not afraid to speak to strangers by the well of Haran. But now both of us are quiet. Your steady eyes are the color of honey. I watch their tender gleam. When I rest my dark head on your shoulder, I think I can bear the pain.
Leah Pass the mandrakes, Reuben! Your fathers had a long day. He looks like hes been through Valley Forge. Jacob, I missed you. All these business trips. . . . I cant go on like this, alone six days out of seven. Youre right--we shouldnt argue in front of the children. Have a mandrake, Jacob!
Sinai And there was thunder and lightning about Mount Sinai. We were afraid. The thunder made us cover our ears. We closed our eyes to shield them from the blinding rays. The earth shook with the storm. In awe, we huddled together. Moshe, the stubborn shepherd, doggedly clung to his staff, daring the wind and rain to lash his face and his upright body. He sang praises, though he did not know what the storm and the terror would bring. Her eyes on her brother, Miriam
Moshe turned toward his sister,
Peninnah I hurl rocks of words at Hannah, the woman with a mission, a full-time job and a loving man. Everything her hands touch becomes a work of art and a front-page headline. No one listens to me except my ten children. Unnoticed, I bear Elkanahs sons, fashion their clothes, wash their limbs, and teach his daughters how to sew and weave. I stay up all night with a coughing child or a child with frightening dreams. Who cares about my dreams? Who wipes the grime from my brow? After I die, who will write my legend?
Jana Spurned My desert wanderings are punctuated by encounters with women prophets. Each casts a mantle over my shoulders and I follow her for seven years. Like Elisha, I poured water over your hands, served your meals, accompanied you across the deep Jordan, and prayed to share your spirit. But you spurned my devotion, taking back the garment I clutched so tightly. Transformed with anger, you hissed, Return, for what have I done to thee? * * I Kings 19:20
Sunday School Lesson Once upon a time, King Solomon had a hard choice to make, I tell the six year olds in my Sunday school class. God let him have one wish. If you were Solomon, what would you wish for? All of the children think for a minute. Then Ben wishes for money, Sarah wishes for a new dress, Lauren wishes for a Barbie doll. John requests a kite to fly when spring comes to snowbound Chicago. Becky wants a new friend to replace one who moved away. Now I call on Lisa. She speaks shyly, intently, the pain of a custody battle in her delicate face: I wish I was a baby again.
Janet Ruth Heller has also published the poetry books Folk Concert: Changing Times (Anaphora Literary Press, 2012) and Traffic Stop (Finishing Line Press, 2011), the scholarly book Coleridge, Lamb, Hazlitt, and the Reader of Drama (University of Missouri Press, 1990), and the award-winning childrens book about bullying, How the Moon Regained Her Shape (Sylvan Dell, 2006). Her website is http://www.redroom.com/author/janet-ruth-heller Exodus is 88 pages, and the list price is $18. You can order Exodus from Amazon and Barnes and Noble. The books website is http://www.wordtechweb.com/heller.html from the May 2014 Edition of the Jewish Magazine Material and Opinions in all Jewish Magazine articles are the sole responsibility of the author; the Jewish Magazine accepts no liability for material used. |
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