 |
| Jerusalem |
Nowhere
is there more prayer.
The Nuns at the Holy Sepulchre.
The faithful at Al Aqsa Mosque.
The worshippers at the Wall.
The call to prayer at dawn and dusk
Warbling from the citadels.
The church bells,
The Persian trills,
The passion spilled over texts
From every major/minor religious sect.
The Nuns at the Holy Sepulchre.
The faithful at Al Aqsa Mosque.
The worshippers at the Wall.
The call to prayer at dawn and dusk
Warbling from the citadels.
The church bells,
The Persian trills,
The passion spilled over texts
From every major/minor religious sect.
Nowhere
is there more prayer than Jerusalem,
Thanks be to God, Hamdilala, Baruch Hashem.
And yet,
I'm starting to think that it's You and not them,
God, what's the point of prayer?
Thanks be to God, Hamdilala, Baruch Hashem.
And yet,
I'm starting to think that it's You and not them,
God, what's the point of prayer?
If
there's nowhere where
There's more prayer,
And terror reigns
Then, Who's to blame?
There's more prayer,
And terror reigns
Then, Who's to blame?
If
suddenly, without a whisper goodbye,
Jesus, Allah, Adonai,
The three men they admire most
All took the last train for the coast,
Jesus, Allah, Adonai,
The three men they admire most
All took the last train for the coast,
And
the Moslems got up from their knees
And the Christians put down their rosaries
And the Jews stayed their hands from kissing
Their mezuzahs,
And everyone looked up,
And realized something's missing...
And the Christians put down their rosaries
And the Jews stayed their hands from kissing
Their mezuzahs,
And everyone looked up,
And realized something's missing...
God is
missing.
Stop the praying! No One's there,
They'd arrange a party to search everywhere.
They'd look for God
But there'd be no Presence
In Holy Books or stars and crescents
Or steeples and crosses.
People'd be at a loss,
Is He ever coming back?
Stop the praying! No One's there,
They'd arrange a party to search everywhere.
They'd look for God
But there'd be no Presence
In Holy Books or stars and crescents
Or steeples and crosses.
People'd be at a loss,
Is He ever coming back?
They'd
be so distraught,
Their searching for naught,
There'd be nothing on high
So they'd turn to on low,
There'd be nothing above
So they'd turn to below,
And they'd finally see there,
In the face of the other,
A semblance of sister,
The eyes of a brother,
They'd turn and they'd lean
Upon one another.
Their searching for naught,
There'd be nothing on high
So they'd turn to on low,
There'd be nothing above
So they'd turn to below,
And they'd finally see there,
In the face of the other,
A semblance of sister,
The eyes of a brother,
They'd turn and they'd lean
Upon one another.
You
see, every group can't believe that they're the ones chosen,
Every group can't believe that the Holy Land's owed them,
Sometimes faith in You, God,
Builds insurmountable walls,
And everyone falls.
Everyone falls.
Every group can't believe that the Holy Land's owed them,
Sometimes faith in You, God,
Builds insurmountable walls,
And everyone falls.
Everyone falls.
How
wise are the secularists for whom the dead aren't martyred
But, quite plainly, murdered...
But, quite plainly, murdered...
This
might sound like an absurd,
ungodly thing to say,
A truly heretical supplication to pray,
(I say this only out of the deepest respect)
But if for a few days, God, You'd just give it a rest,
If You'd take a sick leave and just go away
And let Israel work this out without You in the way,
ungodly thing to say,
A truly heretical supplication to pray,
(I say this only out of the deepest respect)
But if for a few days, God, You'd just give it a rest,
If You'd take a sick leave and just go away
And let Israel work this out without You in the way,
God,
for that kind of peace,
You're a small price to pay.
You're a small price to pay.
-
Rabbi
Zoë Klein
Sien ook: God is groter as God
I have to 'stay with it for a while' as well! How profound!
ReplyDeleteWow!
ReplyDeleteGoerge? Ek verstaan nie.
ReplyDeleteGeorge... G'n wonder ek verstaan nie. :)
DeleteEk wou jou nie dadelik antwoord nie, Elmi. Voordat ek té vinnig by my kop en verklarings uitkom wou ek dit aan my gebeente gevoel het. Ek lees juis onlangs in die voorwoord van 'n digbundel van sekere kulture waar gedigte so anders as by ons (met ons Westerse verwysingsraamwerk) benader word: "As we learn to criticize, to take a poem apart, to get its meaning, they learn to listen and to recite."
DeleteJou vraag het my op die ou einde op die punt gebring waar ek my verstaan wel in woorde omgesit het en dit het 'n bloginskrywing op sy eie geword. Dankie!