Many of the stories and tropes of Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur services are difficult for me to digest. They resonate as harsh, frequently misogynist and often violent. The Akedah story (binding of Isaac) is probably the prime example, but certainly not the only one. I struggle through much of the liturgy, trying in vain to reconcile so many conflicting images: A loving and forgiving deity who would demand the sacrifice of a child (even as a test case); An honored forefather, who argued with God to spare the life of any righteous man in Sodom, but did not plead for the life of his beloved son; An honored matriarch, who welcomed the stranger into her home, but was willing to send Hagar & Ishmael into the desert to die.

In one of the services I attended this year we were challenged to use these conflicts as a framework for considering what our own responses might be if (when) we are faced with orders from those who have power over us (bosses, presidents, military command, etc.). The answers are not so simple. I’m still struggling and this poem is one of the results of my struggle.

The jackal howled in the wilderness
Listen to what she said
Beware of the nighttime demons
Who frolic in your head.

The prophet stands at the city gates
Listen to her voice.
Good and evil stand before you
Make a careful choice.

The fathers sit in the beit midrash
Pondering peace and strife
Creating elaborate rituals to 
Preserve their way of life.

The mothers stand at the doorposts
They cry and pray and mourn
Looking for beloved children
Who never will be born.

The children lie upon the altar
Gazing at the darkened sky
While God looks down deciding
Who will live and who will die.

Hear the voices of the children
Listen to their urgent plea
Who will fight to save us?
Who will soften God’s decree?

©2023marthahurwitz