Once we were strangers in someone else’s house, Now we are strangers in our own heads – forgive us. Forgive the beatings, the burlap bags that suffocate heads, the suffocating dread And forgive us the fig trees uprooted and dead. The houses torn down, villages no longer seen, Mothers and children stuffed down the wells of Deir Yassein. For these and all our transgressions, may all Creation Forgive us for what we have done to them and to ourselves. Amen.
Once we were strangers in someone else’s house, Now we are strangers in our own heads – forgive us. Forgive us for driving them out and the theft of their homes, For the colonies that exclude, the occupation enforced by guns. Forgive us the vanity – the flags and soldiers and Knessets – That makes us forget the voices of Prophets. For these and all our transgressions, may all Creation Forgive us for what we have done to them and to ourselves. Amen.
Once we were strangers in someone else’s house, Now we are strangers in our own heads – forgive us. Forgive us the hatred, the violence, the pain. Forgive us all the evils we have done while crying “Never Again.” We have planted, but we pray that no one reaps. Forgive us for driving Palestinians to do the same. For these and all our transgressions, may all Creation Forgive us for what we have done to them and to ourselves. Amen.
We are ever strangers in someone else’s house, But we can always be at home in our heads – redeem us. Bless Palestinians and Israelis to seek only peace. Take off the masks, the grand ideas, take down the Wall, and uncover the sweet flesh. Allow us to feel our hearts, to feel compassion, each other’s distress. Give us the wisdom to free ourselves from war, to allow each other’s contrition. For these and all our transgressions, may all Creation Allow us to make amends for what we have done to them and to ourselves. Amen.
Hilton Obenzinger
www.obenzinger.com
Hilton Obenzinger is the author of "American Palestine: Melville, Twain and the Holy Land Mania," among many other books of criticism, poetry and fiction, and the recipient of the American Book Award. He is a long-time Jewish American advocate of Israeli-Palestinian peace. Hilton Obenzinger teaches writing and American literature at Stanford University.
Like the King in Kierkegaard, our highest official laughs
while our children die.
the cries of the tortured are music to his ears.
the innocent are spirited away to foreign lands to be beaten to death in secret.
Our streets are filled with killing; and love, any love, is suspect.
Like slugs, mostpeople sit in caves watching shadows on the wall, dreaming of goods to help forget that life is sweet, but inaccessible,
Forget that we spend more on death than life,
forget our elections are stolen and our wars have no justification,
forget that our oceans are lifeless deserts, radioactive dumps,
our waters are rife with poisons and our rivers with excrement--
forget that each year we burden our skies with thousands of tons of mercury, lead, arsenic, cadmium, and acids.
But the shadows on the wall do not suffice so drugs are indicated to keep us wasting our lives to pay for labor-saving devices, with no time for trust or suspect love.
The shadows give us murder every night, many murders not enough to balance the loss of love, or the inconveniently
sheer joy of being alive.
We inherit the pain of being alone from our masters on purpose.
Social creatures, we are kept alienated by all the murders and horrors of our goods-filled world. The car worth more than the man who built it...
Our resulting siege mentality encouraging war and massive force to protect our fragile hold on material security, grasping at the straws doled out by indifferent industry. Compassion unaffordable, mercy beyond our ability, a thousand children dying right now but nothing we can do and still grasp a semblance of comfort while viewing shadows on the cave wall,
Unsuccessfully attempting to forget the fear generated by our masters.
Comes daybreak and youth cuts our chains, we see there is plenty for everyone and begin to live with default joy, basic existential bliss, humble grace and beauty.
by
martinweiss (19 articles, 4 quicklinks, 11 diaries, 340 comments)
on Wednesday, September 19, 2007 at 12:11:35 AM
Mr. Obenzinger, your liturgy reflects what I see as prophetic values, the truest, founding values of the State of Israel. I feel a great sympathy with your perceptions.
As you point out, certain ethics endure through the ages-- because they work. They work to protect the most vulnerable and to guide the most powerful.
Those values are gathered in all the major religions because they are central to the survival of humanity as a group of disparate individuals.
That the words of Isaiah and Jeremiah correspond to our well-being is too seldom recognized, as the prophets' warnings proved.
Those who sacrifice the living for dead words on paper will not endure, but they will always be with us, at least until wisdom and understanding and compassion are as revered as wealth.
I take satisfaction in knowing you are writing for the enduring values of the prophets and the only values by which Israel and humanity can endure. Jeremiah must have felt lonely as I do when I see all the harm done for empty profit which devalues the very gain it seeks.
Thank you for your heartfelt words.
marty
by
martinweiss (19 articles, 4 quicklinks, 11 diaries, 340 comments)
on Thursday, September 20, 2007 at 8:01:27 AM
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