GIRAFFE IN JERUSALEM, or, Paths of Righteousness

GIRAFFE IN JERUSALEM
or, Paths of Righteousness

"A chance encounter in Israel between vets and a giraffe has led
to a rabbinical ruling that the African animal is kosher."
—Telegraph, 12 August 2008

RELIGIONS GIVE US peace—or so they say,
Though each will worship God in their own way
And look to Mecca or Jerusalem
For hope—or to a child from Bethlehem,
Who, Christians say, "proved" (in Luke's manger scene)
Isaiah, chapter seven, verse fourteen.
Some wait in patience for Elijah to
Return to earth—as he's supposed to do.
Hence Jews, at Seder, leave an empty cup
Out for the prophet, should he come to sup
On earth—as he once did in days of yore.
And some Jews keep wide open their front door,
In case he comes—in form the same as when
He prophesied for God and walked with men.
For he was taken up to Heaven in
A chariot of mystic origin,
As it is written in the story of
Elijah and Elisha's noble love,
Included in the Jewish Scriptures. Here
I'll summarize what is presented there:
A chariot and horses made of fire
Transport Elijah in a whirlwind's gyre.
Elisha's left behind—but first of all
He begs Elijah that his spirit fall
On him. Elisha subsequently
Received Elijah's word as guarantee
The prophet's spirit would be passed along
To him in extra power—twice as strong,
Provided that Elisha sees him go
When he is taken up. And it was so.
Elisha proved his gift; for with one stroke
He cleaved the Jordan with Elijah's cloak.
The story's told in Kings, the second book,
In chapter two: how flaming horses took
Elijah up—although he had not died.
Elisha saw this happen and he cried,
"My father! Father!" with a broken heart.
He wept in grief and tore his clothes apart,
Although Elijah walked with God alive.
In chapter four of Malachi, verse five,
The reader's told Elijah will appear
As proof the great Day of the Lord is near.
That day will be a day of dread. Yet some
Pure souls find peace expecting it to come;
Because that day will be a day of wrath,
But not for those who walk the righteous path.
For these—the remnant—are at peace, and pray
Their Lord will soon appear on Judgment Day
To judge the living and the dead. Then in
God's mercy, they'll be welcomed, free of sin;
For in the brief time of their mortal lease,
They mortified themselves and found true peace
Reciting psalms and studying the Law.
They worshiped God in reverence and awe
And never doubted their Redeemer would
Destroy the wicked and reward the good—
If not on earth, then in another place,
Where the Redeemed will see God face to face
At last—with His angelic retinue.
Another reads Hosea 14:2
Each night and through his sacrifice of lips
Prays fervently for the apocalypse
To come—an end to terminate all fears
On earth. For God will wipe away all tears
And they'll rejoice while they are still alive,
As promised in Isaiah 65,
And Revelation 21, verse 4,
Where the Redeemed are told they'll weep no more,
Or mourn. For Jesus Christ will be with them
Forever, in the New Jerusalem.
And when they waken on that Judgment Day
They'll find the former things have passed away.
The young, meanwhile, enjoy a youthful hope.
Yet even they fix God within their scope;
For they find peace in angels dressed in white,
Who tuck God's children in their beds at night
And guard them from wild demons as they sleep.
The goblins howl and hiss and crawl and creep
Around the bedside of the child, but bands
Of angels hold them safely in their hands.
A thousand victims may fall at their side,
But still the children peacefully abide
In slumber—knowing they are not alone
And will not strike their foot against a stone,
As promised in verse twelve, Psalm 91.
This gives them comfort when their day is done.
The elderly lie in their bedrooms too—
Regretting misspent years, which they now rue
In tears. They pray a chariot will come
To take them to their heavenly new home.
Still others go to covens to find there
A Nature God, or seek him everywhere—
Like pantheists, who find God in the trees
And hills or granite rocks, not on their knees,
In church. For in their daily pilgrimage
Outdoors, they find a lost Edenic age
That some can only hope for once they die—
Above the earth, in a celestial sky.
Yet some don't worship God at all but find
Not knowing God brings greater peace of mind
Than knowing Him and feeling deep within
That they are living in a state of sin;
Because, imperfect, in their moral pride
They feel accursed—and on the Devil's side;
So that although they try to do what's good,
They do what they should not—not what they should:
A paradox that Paul examined in
The book of Romans where he writes of sin
At length (in chapter seven, verse fifteen
And following): how he was caught between
The law within his members, which opposed
The law his higher faculty proposed
As right. And, like St. Paul, to their last breath,
They pray for rescue from their body's death—
Because the more they try to do what's right,
The more they feel unworthy, and contrite,
Reciting penitential prayers like, "Lord,
"Have mercy, I've been heedless of your Word
"And Covenant, and have no right to live."
Though penitent, they doubt God will forgive
Their sins once more, and in their inner strife
They feel they're blotted from the Book of Life,
Referred to in a passage from the book
Of Revelation, chapter twenty. Look
There and you'll read how earth and sky both fled
From Him who issued judgments on the dead
From His majestic throne; and how each one
Is judged according to the deeds he's done
Before he died. And if his name's not in
That Book of Life then he is thrown within
A lake of fire. This vision was unsealed
By angels for St. John, and then revealed
To caution sinners with the threat of doom.
And yet it only magnified their gloom!
For losing hope of ever pleasing God
By following his statutes, by an odd
Reversal they then please themselves instead
Of God. They soon forget what they have read
About God's Word and what they once called sin.
They heed instead the still small voice within,
Which speaks to them in simple sound bites that
Insure them what they do is where it's at—
At least for now. It's not the voice once heard
By prophets, when they listened to God's Word;
As did Elijah on the mountain, when
There was a gust of wind, a quake, and then
A fire. Yet God was not in either one—
But in a whisper. Moderns are undone
By louder voices, speaking always of
The relativity of sin and love.
Now this, by latitudinarian
Concessions, liberates the worldly man
And woman from regrets—or consciousness
Of sins that they might otherwise confess;
And they feel better in their beds at night
If that voice tells them what they did's all right.
Since what's the point of doing something if
The doing of it puts them in a tiff
Of conscience? And why should they remain awake
All night just for a relative mistake?
For it seems better to them to admit
That they are right, than end up in a fit
Of nerves from an emotional distress
For some wrong that they feel they should confess.
Thus rather than abide by what they should
Or should not do, they act by what feels good
To them. And if no-one is harmed by it,
They think there is no reason to submit
To a parental power—such as God;
Perceived, then, as an infantile facade:
As when a father threatens discipline
For childish misbehavior (called sin
By some) but gives approval if his child
Behaves in ways considered meek and mild
By him. That child submits to guidance, and
Accepts his father's word as his command,
But only for the warning that is made
Of punishment—which makes the child afraid.
Adults behave the same way. For priests tell
How if they misbehave they'll go to—. Well—,
They'll go to someplace where it's hotter than
Nevada—and they can't plug in a fan
Or air conditioner. Not to make light
Of it, but stories such as these are trite
And puerile; as if the human mind,
Still shackled by its infant fears, could find
No better reason to imagine good
Except as antidote to fire or flood.
Now since the flood already punished man,
The fire is the next scourge in God's plan—
As it is written in 2 Peter 3,
Verse 7, if we trust the prophecy.
Such tales as these discourage some from sin,
While others listen with a knowing grin
And wonder, if there is a Hell, then why
Don't they who preach it go there when they die,
Instead of those whom they intimidate
With prophecies of an infernal fate?
Now I'm not writing this to proselytize,
But they may be the wise in their own eyes
Isaiah spoke about (5:21),
Who think there's nothing more once life is done
Except to rot and decompose to dust
Without a reckoning of who was just
On earth and helped the disadvantaged, or
Responded to someone's petition for
Assistance. These contested unfair laws
In order to defend a righteous cause
That they believed in—reckoning the cost
Of no account if they could save the lost
And speak up for the frightened and the meek.
They dared to help young children and the weak
And saved them from the clutches of the strong
And powerful. They chose the right from wrong,
And did not claim that they were deaf or blind
To wrongs—as if just figments of the mind.
Instead, they made a choice, and in that choice
They gave to silent suffering a voice
That could be heard. And when the urgent need
For action came, their voice became a deed.
By acting on the principle of one
For all, they did whatever could be done,
Becoming for the weak a helping hand,
To set them on their feet and help them stand
In an unfriendly world, until they found
The strength to stand, as if on solid ground.
For this fleet world is like a spinning top
At times, and never seems to slow or stop
Enough to help those who lack confidence;
So others stood, with grit and eloquence,
For them. They harbored the lost refugee
And set those wrongfully imprisoned free
From institutional confinement in
State prisons or asylums. Though not kin
To those inside, they served as advocates
For them, allowing those unfortunates
To live with dignity and self respect;
To speak their minds in public and reject
Official doctrine as they chose; or pray
To their own God and worship any way
They wanted to. For there are diverse ways
That people worship God and render praise
Or give thanks: in a mosque or Buddhist shrine,
Or through a sacrifice of bread and wine,
Where worshipers believe that Christ is food
To eat, and that the wine is Jesus' blood.
In Falun Gong, adherents cultivate
A Truth practitioners assimilate
By giving up attachment to the self.
Some pray to a small statue on a shelf
At home, which in the darkest midnight glows—
As if to cheer a sinner in the throes
Of guilt, who has faith that each plaintive word
Is listened to, and each petition heard.
Another worships idols made of stone,
Or prays before a reliquary bone—
The holy relic of a martyred saint
Who welcomes the petitioner's complaint.
The worshiper may shout and sing, or kneel;
Or sit cross-legged and turn the Dharma Wheel
By following the noble Eightfold Path;
Or sacrifice to satisfy God's wrath—
A scapegoat mechanism since the Fall
Of Man: someone must die to save us all—
A principle that makes mimetic sense
Of social rivalry and violence,
Although the rite's revealed as fraudulent
By writers of the Christian Testament.
For as the high priest said when he addressed
The Jews, it's good that one die for the rest;
And yet the one who died was innocent—
A scapegoat for the others' discontent
And rivalry. Thus even Pilate and
King Herod formed a friendship in the land—
United in their cure for the disease.
Yet formerly they had been enemies!
In St. Luke's Gospel, chapter 23,
Verse 12, we read how both at once agree,
Though all they had in common was their scorn
For Christ, who, Luke writes, was of Virgin born
And later preached the gospel of good news.
Yet he became a scapegoat for his views.
Rene Girard, the anthropologist
Explained why sacrificial rites exist:
Because although the rivals imitate
Each one's desire, this is turned to hate
As every rival blocks the other's aim
To get something or win a greater fame
Than all the others. It's at this point when
They find the weakest of their fellow men
And turn on him in order to find peace
Among themselves, so enmity will cease.
According to Girard, one man must die
So that the rest can live the sacred lie
That it was this man who established peace
And caused all social rivalry to cease—
Preventing scapegoating among the rest.
So where they once felt cursed, they now feel blessed
By the same person who was sacrificed—
A faculty associate—or Christ—
Or anyone the rest perceive as weak,
Deformed, diseased, despised, resigned, or meek;
A man of sorrows, pierced and oppressed,
Who, by his death brings peace to all the rest.
He then is honored, like he were a god
Who saved the others. This is not that odd,
Though it may seem irrational to those
Who live in solitude and have no foes;
Because they don't desire, like the rest,
To have what others have—or be the best
Of all. In simple solitude they find
Repose; and they have greater peace of mind
Among the forest animals and trees
Than if they warred in endless rivalries
For acquisition of a rival's gain—
In genealogies traced back to Cain,
Who killed his brother with impenitence
But could not hide his victim's innocence.
For these the sacrificial rites repeat
The process of desire and deceit.
For in the social rivalry of men
There must be victims to make peace again
For others. Thus religions help to calm
The passions when there is no other balm.
Regardless how occult or primitive
They seem, these are the rites by which some live
And find tranquillity. Yet others say
It is no good to worship or to pray
To God, because such worship may deflate
The power of the leader or the state.
And yet the just fought back—caretakers of
The principles of liberty and love
In freedom of religion. Others fought
For freedom of assembly and of thought,
And the inalienability
Not just of rights—but human dignity.
They comforted the widow in her grief
And gave the homeless orphan fast relief
From rabid predators on every street
Of shame. They sheltered them from cold and heat—
Like the Good Shepherd who knows his own sheep
On sight, protecting each one in his keep
From wolves and thieves, while carrying the lame
Like babes in arms. He calls each one by name
And gives them greener pastures, and relief
From fear. Not so the hired hand or thief:
He's learned that altruistic love's in vain,
And what he does he does for his own gain,
If possible. He knows kind talk is cheap;
Although a wolf, he poses as a sheep.
And though he claims to follow Jesus Christ,
It is the humble who are sacrificed—
Not him. For he prefers to talk the talk
The Bible preaches, but let others walk
The via dolorosa that Christ did,
Since he might steal their blessings. And God forbid—
If it's indeed the meek who gain the earth—
That he deprive them of their sanctioned worth;
Because the meek and poor have just one chance
To win their biblical inheritance:
If not while they're alive, then after death,
While he says prayers for them with solemn breath!
And this is how the ruthless make good sense
And justify their warped benevolence,
Believing if they're selfish they will bless
The meek—thus justify their selfishness.
But if there is no God, it might be true
That we should get on earth what is our due.
For if the final reckoning's the grave,
Then our deserts in life are all we have.
And, thus, the sole reality is here
On earth; and once we die we disappear,
Like earthbound atoms that are soon set free.
Thus Epicurean philosophy
Assured those with a morbid fear of death
That all sensations cease with one's last breath,
Which frees our atoms to combine once more
In novel random patterns, like before.
So nothing will endure of consciousness
Or mind for God to punish or to bless,
And each one does exactly as he must
To live—assured of the same end in dust;
Though one is cowardly, another brave,
They'll rest together in the same dank grave,
To rot. Thus courage isn't worth the price
If Heaven's just a joker's paradise
Made up of fictions of eternal bliss
By those who can't accept life as it is
In all its contradictory design—
As much demonic as it is divine;
So as the evil rise to world renown
We give the good a consolation crown
And compensate them for their worldly strife
And grief with promise of eternal life
In Paradise—where evil's damned and good
Receives the compensation that it should.
Yet one's will is the only Law when just
And unjust in the same way end in dust.
So some anaesthesize all sense of self
And aim, with medicines from off the shelf,
To tranquilize themselves, with seasoned skill,
With now a red and then a yellow pill;
As if, with willful negligence, they chose
A final cure with one last lethal dose,
Or took enough amphetamine or meth
To kill—though ruled an accidental death.
Though called an accident, this cannot hide
The fact the death was really suicide.
It's true it wasn't planned to be that way,
But would have happened soon—if not that day:
They took an accidental sedative,
But had already lost the will to live
By then. Some find another kind of speed
And race past STOP signs that they do not heed
Or fail to notice in their drunken state.
Impatient for romance, they cannot wait
To try their luck at one more discotheque;
But their luck fails them in a wrong-way wreck.
Another kills the consciousness within
Himself, extinguishing both self and sin
Alike, and, like the lotus, rests in mud,
Untouched by cravings of his flesh and blood.
Yet some want apodictic statutes to
Instruct them what they should or should not do—
A "Thou shalt not," or absolute command,
By which God's creatures either fall or stand;
As in the Ten Commandments that were heard
By Moses, which some call God's Holy Word.
Perhaps some people need God's law to know
How to decide the right from wrong, although
Some others live by their own code. A real
Event that happened to me can reveal
How difficult it is sometimes to tell
The right from wrong. For once, in Israel,
My partner and I went to get a bite:
We chose a kosher restaurant one night
In early June. My partner was surprised
There were restricted foods, so I advised
Her on the foods she was allowed to eat.
For she was famished—and intent on meat,
As if she were in Texas or New York,
Where it's quite common to eat food like pork;
And one could be religious and still eat,
Quite sanctimoniously, any meat
Of choice—or what the host decides to set
Upon the table as the meal. And yet
For some, it's not enough to beat one's breast
In prayer; but one must eat right to be blessed.
While counting decades on the rosary
Was fine, I said, and singing hymns with glee
Would help—for others it might not; because
One had to know the dietary laws
As well. Apart from faith, there is an art
Or skill in playing the religious part:
Thus I would help my friend deliberate
About the proper foods, before she ate.
I told her that we could not order ham
And lacked sufficient shekels for the lamb,
Although the lamb looked succulent and prime.
I urged that she should compromise this time,
If only to please me—her paying host—
And order kosher foods she liked the most.
But she was guided by her appetite
And indiscriminately wished a bite
To eat, regardless of the foods she should
Or should not have—so long as they seemed good
To her. I hoped she would not make a scene
And urged her to try kosher style cuisine,
Since this was Israel now, not New York
Or Maine. I asked she forego roasted pork—
An unclean food—since that would be a big
Mistake in etiquette, because pork's pig,
Except it's cooked! And so—ad nauseam—
A pig, when cured, is served as dinner ham;
And, in the mornings, after we awaken,
A pig's a pig—though burnt and served as bacon!
Now some enjoy it with their breakfast toast
And eggs, along with coffee, as they coast
Through tabloid scandals or election news—
But that is not the custom of the Jews!
(Needless to say, I speak in general;
And so, when I say "Jews," I don't mean all
The Jews, but only those who, one supposes,
Observe the statutes written down by Moses.)
Moreover, for the Jews, that dining habit
Is as prohibited as roasted rabbit!
My partner said she didn't think it funny
Suggesting we might dine on roasted bunny
When all the bunny that she ever ate
Were Easter treats—and made of chocolate!
(Here I confess that, after due reflection,
I could not see the logical connection.)
She added dryly that my humor stank
And that I slandered Chuck Jones and Mel Blanc—
Along with Warner Brothers studio,
Which gave us Bugs some sixty years ago!
(As if she had a special expertise
In Looney Toons and Merrie Melodies.)
What's worse, she started then to scat that song
I hated—"Merrily We Roll Along"!
Now I know jazz musicians sometimes scat,
But Ella never sounded quite like that!
I tried to placate her with smiles and hugs
And protested I wouldn't feast on Bugs
Were I near starving and just skin and bones—
For who would dine on drawings by Chuck Jones
When there were more nutritious things to eat,
Like salmon—or a roasted piece of meat?
She begged I treat her kindly—as my guest!
But I retorted I just spoke in jest
About shecht foods, or kosher, on behalf
Of my comedic muse—to get a laugh,
If possible: the way that comics joke
About a tragic incident, or doing coke
To get high. Richard Pryor mined that vein
In standup comedy—to ease his pain,
No doubt, and yet amuse his audience
As well, who roared with joy at his expense.
Because, if we can make the humor last,
We all forget that we are dying—fast.
(Some choose to die real fast because they know
How painful it can be to die real slow.)
She said she didn't mind my humor—still,
She warned that certain kinds of jokes can kill.
To prove her point she hacked and cleared her throat,
Then gave me an example, which I quote:
"Like when you telephone a friend and say
"Her eighty-year-old father's passed away
"Although he's really napping in his room,
"And that poor woman suffers so much gloom
"And guilt, she takes a gun from off the shelf
"Above her queen-sized bed and—kills herself!"
It's true, I lack a Bachelor of Laws
Degree, or maybe I'm just dense, because
It took a while and still I failed to see
The relevance of her analogy.
I said that I enjoyed her being frank
With me, except a joke is not a prank.
She said, "It's all the same—forget the word—
"Since many fights are started on what's heard."
Annoyed, I asked her if she'd like to fight;
She said, "Let's eat—and wait until tonight!"
I couldn't understand how my sharp wit
Required I apply for a permit—
And here I reached for words to move her most—
Like they were spoken by the Holy Ghost
(Or maybe not by Him, but, as I live
And breathe, at least by His close relative):
I said, "True humor doesn't really hurt:
"It's like a moral lesson—with dessert;
"Like making fun of poverty or slums,
"Which seems offensive—till the punch line comes;
"And though the joke without the punch line might
"Offend, the punch line makes the joke all right
"To laugh at—putting spectators at ease;
"As with the setup, 'Take my wife,' then: 'please!'
"And other jokes are structured just the same
"As this, offending with a comic aim.
"Compare a sharp wit with the ghoulish twist
"And malice harbored by a terrorist,
"Whose humor doesn't teach a comic truth
"Or insight, but incites both age and youth—
"And even children­ (whether son or daughter)—
"To random carnage and a mindless slaughter:
"Like one who uses TV with aplomb
"To foment genocide, or a pogrom:
"As if it is a righteous point of view
"To hate a Christian, Muslim, or a Jew—
"And even worse when preached in a cartoon
"And fed to children—with a sugar spoon."
And here I paused—as if to gather steam—
And then expatiated on my theme,
So I could amplify, in rhyme and trope,
A subject that soon magnified in scope
As if I were in a rhapsodic daze.
Now this is what I said—in paraphrase:
No matter what their mystical facade
May be, they'll have to make their peace with God
Some day. And face to face, before too long,
They'll learn they should have chosen right from wrong
Regardless. If God's Kingdom is within,
Then they're already paying for their sin
With each incendiary bomb and blast
That separates them from all hope at last.
For as God's people they must surely know
God's Law—that they must reap just what they sow.
Because, if others dulled the sense of right
In them, their God instilled an Inner Light
To guide their way. If that does not suffice,
They'll lose forever God—and Paradise!
Theologies may differ on the way
That they imagine Paradise; and they
Debate on whether there's a Hell or not,
Or if, down there, it's cold or very hot;
While others say it's just a state of mind,
And what we do returns to us in kind;
And we make by ourselves reward for good
And punishment for evil; understood,
Now, as a psychological event
And not something theologies invent.
Regardless how one thinks of it, it's well
To contemplate there's such a place as Hell,
And if you choose to do what is not right
To do, you do so to your own despite:
Like cutting off your nose to spite your face,
Which only aggravates your own disgrace.
While thinking that it brings you close to God,
You find you're naked in the land of Nod,
An exile, east of Eden, lost to hope—
A moving target in a rifle's scope
And prey to bounty hunters who, like Cain,
Make sacrificial offerings in vain,
And are as prone to anger and as bold
To kill—though vengeance follow seven-fold
On them. For call it murder or defense,
You're tangled in a web of violence
From which you cannot free yourself unless
You disown principles you now profess;
Then cast out from God's presence and his care,
God's justice will be more than you can bear:
Abandoned in a godless universe,
You forfeit Abel's blessing for Cain's curse.
Yet you, not God, will execute God's wrath
Upon yourself by following your path;
For God permits the sinner, to his hurt,
To follow his own will, as just desert.
So Paul observes in Romans, chapter one,
Verse twenty-four, how God's work is undone
By man's own doing, so that he'll defy
The truth of God and substitute a lie
Instead. Thus claiming to be worldly wise,
He shows himself a fool in his own eyes—
And blind: for he ignores the beauty of
Divine creation, which reflects God's love,
Not only in the Word that was revealed,
But also in the lilies of the field
That neither toil nor spin, yet are arrayed
Resplendently in summer's masquerade;
While birds that neither sow nor reap are fed,
Receiving from above their daily bread.
And all Creation knows its proper place
Upon the earth, in oceans, or in space:
The moon that marks the seasons, and the sun
That knows just when to set, when day is done;
The cloud-capped peaks, the trees, the summer rain
And sunshine all display God's wisdom—plain
To see in everything that has been made.
For God's eternal beauty cannot fade
In time; unlike the treasures stored on earth,
Which rot, and moth and rust destroy their worth.
Thus all creation is a good we ought
To praise, for it's a sign, which God has wrought
To manifest his Wisdom and his Word.
This can be seen by us, as well as heard.
It speaks to the immortal soul within
Us all. Yet some have sold themselves to sin
And, prisoners of time's futility,
They are enslaved, and cannot hear or see
The truth, which should be evident. They live
For their own selves, not God's imperative
To dedicate their lives to higher goals.
Although they gain the world, they sell their souls
For painted images that they have made
Themselves, and which will evanesce or fade
In time. For we are anchored in our love,
Which is our weight, and the insurance of
Our worth. It's this that motivates our hope
For better things—unlimited in scope
Or faith. As when God summoned Abraham
To slaughter Isaac, but allowed a ram
As substitute; but only after he—
By faith alone—had followed God's decree
Up to the moment of the sacrifice,
When God allowed the ram to pay the price
For Isaac. In this way the father proved
His faith; which, like a tree, could not be moved
No matter what the sacrifice or cost,
Although his son—his only son—be lost;
And, through him, all his progeny, despite
God's promise. Yet he trusted God was right
And did whatever it was that God said—
By faith believing God could raise the dead.
And thus he raised the sacrificial knife
To Isaac—certain God was Lord of Life.
Yet such faith must be built on rock, not sand;
Then, when the heavy rains come down, it'll stand;
Or else, those heavy rains will come and all
The builder's skills will not prevent its fall;
But neither heavy winds nor rains can knock
A house down that is built on solid rock,
Or weaken a believer with resolve
To stand—whatever risks that may involve.
For though the flesh is weak, the spirit's strong
And will defend the right way from the wrong
And not allow the soul to be ensnared
Or tempted. It's enough to be prepared
To hear the Word and not prevaricate
The summons that is heard—or hesitate
To answer. For the individual
Who hears God's voice must act upon his call
Without delay—no matter if it be
Today, or on the Lake of Galilee
Two thousand years ago, when fishermen
Heard it. And it'll be now as it was then,
Where he will leave his catch without regret,
Not thinking of them, or the fishing net
He leaves behind. And once he makes his vow,
On faith, he'll keep his two hands on the plow,
While never looking back—because he's heard
God's urgent summons and believes his word,
Which need not be spectacular or loud
To save a person from the faceless crowd.
For God's a still small voice inside the heart,
Which you will hear if you are set apart
By God to live in peace, and to be blessed—
Or else you're doomed to perish with the rest!
And if you are predestined from the first,
Your hate should warn you to expect the worst;
For after you've expired your last breath,
The lake of fire is the second death—
If we believe St. John's grim prophecy
In Revelation 20:14b;
Since only fools can understand God's Word
To mean that peace is planted with a sword;
For as the righteous ones have said, the key
Interpreting God's Word is charity,
Or love. Because when all is said and done—
Whatever your religion—God is ONE,
Regardless if you're people of a book
Or find your deity within a brook
Or oaken tree—so long as you don't stray
From peaceful pastures. That is Nature's Way
As well: Despite the myth of "tooth and claw,"
The feral beast obeys a Higher Law
Of life. For it but kills to keep alive,
And not for schemes that envy might contrive:
To purchase peace as with a ransom price—
As if the Law of Life were sacrifice.
Because the God of Life is—Lord of Peace,
Who teaches that all sacrifice must cease:
A lesson learned in Abel's blood, which cried
Out loud to God that he unjustly died.
Though Cain, in secret, killed him in the field,
The brother's murder could not be concealed.
This way the Bible shows that violence
Will never triumph over innocence.
Thus in the Joseph story it is shown
That Joseph is a victim—and is known
To be one by his brothers, who repent
That they had tried to kill the innocent.
And in the book of Psalms, King David's pleas
Are for relief from many enemies
Who, he says, assail him without cause.
Such cries of innocence must give us pause,
Because the victim is exposed—like Job,
Who's also sacrificed and has his robe
Of dignity destroyed. But he still strives
In hope, and knows that his redeemer lives.
And Pilate, after Jesus' hopes grow dim,
Can say of Christ, "I find no fault in him."
For as Girard observes, the Gospels show
The victim's patent innocence—although
Condemned. This proves the sacrifice a lie
And shows that it's the innocent who die,
And not the guilty. Such truths obviate
All killings based on rivalry and hate.
Thus if you follow gods of war and strife
Instead, you'll find you've sacrificed your life
In vain. Deflated by the world's harsh scorn,
It would be better had you not been born.
Now—since I dread imagining the worst—
I hope you make your peace with people first,
For after you have perished in your hate
And facing God, you'll find that it's too late.
And here I finished my analysis
At last—with not a single word amiss.
I took a deep breath—waiting for applause,
Except my partner took too long a pause!
I asked her if she liked what I had said,
And that it came from deep inside my head!
She smiled and wished my head were not that deep,
Because grandiloquence puts her to sleep;
And if I aimed for a persuasive art
Of speaking, it should come straight from the heart
Instead. "I didn't think, with words you chose
"To use, that you were quoting Bartlett's prose,"
She chaffed. "And if you want the truth from me—
"I think you'd better stick to poetry.
"You know the kind—on Hallmark Christmas cards:
"The ones my mother reads—and soon discards!"
My famished friend then bowed a violin
In mime, to mock the mood I put her in,
Then stretched—as if awaking from a sleep
I caused—and dabbed her eyes and feigned to weep
A bit; while, with a grin, she asked me if
I'd be so kind to lend my handkerchief!
I thought her simulations overblown
And begged she make her true reaction known
By compliments, instead of ridicule
And campy gestures from the acting school
Of Stanislavski. But she smiled at me
And said she was as honest as could be
Under the circumstances. And if I
Solicited applause, then I should try
Harder next time. Romantic love is blind—
But Eros has a memory and mind;
And she used both of them, in her retort,
To lacerate my muse for making sport
Of her. She had not heard a word I said,
But chose to simmer in her mood instead.
And so she pouted and called me a louse
And wondered if I would fry Mickey Mouse
Or Donald Duck! I didn't say a word—
Except that I'd consider Tweety Bird—
But just if he were ritually killed
And then eviscerated and—well grilled.
She grimaced at me (trying not to laugh)
And said I might as well eat grilled giraffe,
Or any other bird or animal
That might be just as odd or comical;
Or—since I chose to taunt her like a schmuck—
I might consider eating Scrooge McDuck
Instead! I smiled, and made her understand
Jerusalem was not in Disneyland.
Then, lexically challenged as she was,
She asked me if the Jewish kosher laws
Prohibited Welsh rabbit as a treat,
Since "rabbit's not approved as kosher meat"!
For those who think I made this up instead,
I swear that that's exactly what she said!
I couldn't help but laugh, and shouted, "Please!
"Welsh rabbit isn't meat—but melted cheese!
"And it need not be cumbersomely shecht,
"Because it's soft—and easy to dissect!"
Now sensing an anxiety attack
About to come, I took the menu back
And opened it in order to peruse
The options that were left for us to choose.
We soon gave up all hope for a meat dish,
And, studying the entrees, turned to fish,
Debating which was kosher, which was not.
A rabbi sitting near us helped a lot
And sympathetically took the time
To test his English and some pantomime
To teach us that seafood without a fin
Would feed our appetite—but lead to sin;
While eating flesh that doesn't chew the cud
Was just as bad as eating meat with blood
In it—because the blood contains the life
In meat, and must be wiped clean from the knife.
(I thought, "This rabbi's sermonette conflates
A normal diner with a Norman Bates.")
"And rodents are forbidden—like the rat,"
He said. He didn't have to tell us that—
As if we'd ever want to make a meal
Of a dear bosom friend of Ratouille!
I told him not to make a lot of fuss,
But then he cited from Leviticus:
The text in the eleventh chapter where
The righteous Moses inventoried there
The animals that walk upon all fours,
Reminding us they were against the laws
Expounded in the Torah's code. "You see,
"That's Genesis to Deuteronomy,"
He said. "Those books were authored by a man
"Called Moses—who wrote down God's holy plan,
"Arranging all God's laws into five books
"So as to warn the cheaters and the crooks.
"And not just them—but each observant Jew
"Who knows the Torah is God's point of view,
"And has been, since our Moses, all alone,
"Inscribed God's Law upon two slabs of stone.
"Thus Holy Writ is to be deeply prized
"By every Jew—and never compromised,
"Regardless of the pressure we are in
"To join a godless people in their sin.
"And here our model should be Daniel,
"Who trusted God and knew the Torah well
"Enough to know the royal court's cuisine
"Was pagan food, and therefore was unclean.
"Now in the book of Daniel we're told
"He would not bow down to a god of gold
"No matter what the consequence, as when
"They made him stay inside the lions' den.
"And though the king himself was quite distressed
"By this, the prophet knew that he was blessed
"By God, who saved him from the lions' jaws
"Because the prophet followed Yahweh's laws.
"So we Jews follow all of God's decrees,
"And worship only one God on our knees:
"The Everlasting God, who never died
"A scornful death, or could be crucified
"Just like a common criminal—in shame!
"But our God is eternally the same,
"And doesn't die. For He's the great I Am,
"Whose Name is sacred in the Tetragram."
My partner wondered why the great I Am
Would need to send his name by telegram.
I whispered I'd explain it later on—
After the rabbi's sermonette was done.
And then I hushed her with a warning cough.
The rabbi took up where he had left off:
"Where Gentiles worship God, but claim they saw
"Him die, we Jews say God lives in our Law.
"Now if you study carefully between
"The lines, there are six hundred and thirteen
"Commandments in our book, and some forbid
"Consumption of seafood, like shrimp and squid;
"While other laws command we sacrifice
"In ways that are quite detailed and precise.
"I can't explain each law to you right now—
"But email me," he said, and mopped his brow.
He wrote his email address with a pen
I gave him, and he lectured on again:
"It's true the Gentiles' Christ just recognized
"Two laws—but even those were plagiarized;
"And they are there for everyone to see:
"Read chapter six of Deuteronomy,
"Verse five, where you will find the Shema. Plus,
"See 19:18 of Leviticus,
"Where you will find the second law—on love,
"Which is the law this man was thinking of.
"That's not intended in the least to slight
"The man. Because there was no copyright
"Back then. And on the Mount—in Herod's reign
"As king—he made his attribution plain."
I smiled at him, but couldn't help resent
The rabbi for not knowing the extent
Of what I knew about his book. I thought
Of Patriarchs, like Abraham and Lot,
Or barren Sarah, who fulfilled God's cause
By giving birth—years after menopause;
And how duplicitous Delilah planned
To have her doting lover's strength unmanned
By female wile and craft; and, by these means,
To hand him over to the Philistines;
Thus, using all of her erotic charms,
She made poor Samson slumber in her arms;
And, once asleep, she had his hair cut short
So he would lose his strength—and God's support,
Not just to end his torment in the grave
But to be mocked by pagans—as their slave!
In sweet erotic dreams, upon her breast,
The strong man snored and—well, you know the rest!
(I never read the book of Judges, still,
I know the tale from Cecil B. DeMille.)
And then there was a widowed bride named Ruth,
Who followed Naomi—and that's the truth!
Now though to follow her would bring her woe,
Ruth promised, "Where you go, there I will go."
And, through this goy gal, later came a king
Who slew Goliath with a measly sling.
The two faced off: When all was said and done,
Goliath was beheaded—David won!
And it's all true—as written. This I know
For certain—since the Bible tells me so!
("The Bible doesn't lie," my mom was told;
At least that's what they said before they sold
My mother ninety dollars worth of books!
How could she know they were a bunch of crooks,
Since the two salesmen put her in a fog
With talk of Moses and the Decalogue?)
Now though we listened with respect, we knew
That Christians had another point of view;
And though it's true that God was crucified
In Jesus, still, it wasn't God who died
Upon the cross, but only man—God's son;
Although the two are recognized as one
By Christians, who believe that Christ fulfilled
For them the penalty the Father willed—
So that Christ's death would finally suffice
To put an end to human sacrifice.
And yet the rabbi saw things his own way—
As he was taught. He warned us not to stray
From paths of righteousness that were decreed
By God through Moses. Therefore we must read
And execute correctly each decree
In Genesis through Deuteronomy
With understanding and with diligence,
As God commanded on Mount Sinai. Whence
It's certain that the one true God will bless
All those who keep his Law with faithfulness;
So that the Law is always in their sight,
From which they never waver, left or right—
The way the prophet, Moses, said to do
In Deuteronomy 5:32.
And so we listened with attentive ears
To dietary laws to quell our fears
Of violating God's eternal Law,
Of which the stern rabbi put us in awe;
For in the city that King David built,
We didn't wish to aggravate our guilt.
Thus, sounding as Mosaic as he could,
The rabbi told us where the Torah stood
On foods that were prohibited or clean.
Now though we both were starved by then, and keen
To start our luncheon with a plate of food,
The rabbi put us in a kosher mood—
The way a military band will beat
A drum to make boy soldiers march their feet
To war, although when once the march is done,
The boys lie maimed and dying in the sun!
We didn't wish to anger him—or God,
Although the kosher meat he chose was odd,
Considering we were prepared to eat
Ordinary inexpensive meat—
Not caring by then what was the main course,
So long as we could eat without remorse,
Because we feared that certain recompense
Would follow as a fatal consequence—
The way that Adam suffered disrepute
And guilt for eating the forbidden fruit!
So we were taken by surprise a bit
When told the food that was appropriate
To eat was something we had never tried
Before, but that had just been certified
As kosher. And we could not help but laugh
When we were told the item was—giraffe!
It seems, after rabbinical review,
Giraffe was now permitted to a Jew.
We were not certain why the kitchen staff
Included on their menu card, giraffe,
Among a list of entrees that were more
Like dishes we'd had many times before,
Such as a pizza done in New York style
Or fish and chips fried for an Anglophile.
By then it didn't matter, since we had
Not eaten that whole day. So we were glad
That our ordeal was finally over and
That we could eat. It wasn't what we'd planned,
Except we were so hungry we could dine
On any item—cooked and served with wine.
Though neither of us was a real gourmet,
We thought giraffe was perfectly okay—
Not only as a culinary treat,
But since it was permissible to eat.
Although we were not Jews, we both agreed
That we should eat the food that was decreed
Acceptable by law. For it seemed right
To satisfy both God and appetite
That way. Now since the rabbi's talk, we thought
That we should do just as the rabbi taught
Us to. We paused—considering the cost—
But then the rabbi said he'd be our host
And pay. Now we could hardly disagree
With a wise rabbi's hospitality—
Especially since both of us were low
On funds and we had two weeks left to go
On our vacation. So it seemed polite
To let the rabbi pay for us that night.
And yet it seemed a trifle comical
To sup upon a long-necked animal
Like that! But then we both said, "What the heck!
"There must be juicy meat in that long neck,
"And true tranquility in eating meat
"While knowing we are righteous as we eat!"