Numbers 4: In Writing

See not
the hallowed hiding
the veiled face
the parts and whole

Unweave not
the textured textile
between I and Thou
here and now

Numbers: Chapter 4

What must be hidden

Swathed in scarlet and blue

Hold me

Do not cut me loose!
















[For full chapter, click here
We continue with the appointment of the Levites, now moving into a detailed census of the three primary families (Gershon, Kehat and Merari) and the enumeration of their duties. The key root is p'k'd, to count, appoint, be responsible--each of these meanings is explored, as the Levites are counted, appointed to their duties, and placed under the charge of Aaron's sons. The duality of the Levites--their positioning as the transition/linkage between Israel and the Dwelling, is repeatedly emphasized. They not only are doubly "given", they also "serve serve". The incipient menace of this in-betweeness also becomes clear, as Aaron and his sons are warned to ensure that Kehat does not become "cut off" through over-exposure, through getting too far within. They must not "see the covering of the holy." They remain always on the limen, leaning against the dwelling but not entering the intimate space within.]

Numbers 3: In Writing

Formed in the wound

the hollows of your face

How can I be

consumed in the shadow of a flame?

Enveloped, front and aft

in the intimate space

of I and they

Nestled against your milk thighs

Hollowed, hallowed

Filled

with the thin taste of silence

Numbers: Chapter 3

Before my face

Face to face

Standing
In your place

Exchanged

Possessed
Mine














[For full chapter, click hereWe move on to the last element of the encampment: the Levites, who are not "counted" among the Children of Israel, yet move within them.
The chapter opens by focusing on the ultimate expression of Levi: "the generations" of Aaron and Moses, the tribe's greatest sons. Yet it sounds an ominous note: "Nadav and Avihu died in the presence of (li-pnei) God when they brought close (k'r'b) alien fire." Their two younger brothers are left to stand in their place,  and  "minister in the presence (al pnei) Aaron their father." Closeness is presented as dangerous. Exchange implies lost, the end of the "firstborn" hope.
This opening section is a myse-en-abym of the chapter as a whole, which revolves around the "bringing close" (k'r'v) of the Levites. The Levites stand in place of the Israelite firstborns, and must be exchanged, one by one. The firstborns are in turn consecrated by death. Spared in Egypt, they  "are Mine"--existentially linked to God in a bond that is transferred to the Levites, who become "Mine."
Like Moses in the Book of Exodus, the Levites become the transitional waters, the space between inside and out. Doubly given (netunim, netunim) they belong to God, serve Aaron, and yet stand in place of the Israelite "openers of the womb."
They are all, and nobody's.  Cyphers of exchange. Mediums of intimacy.]

Numbers 2: In Writing

Send a sign

reverberating in the sand

shifting names

You are my rock

A window

Escape

A gift

Force of my father

Who heard

Made me whole

Added

Redeemed

Weaned

 Wounded me

 

In barren lostness

I help my brother

My brother, bad

We are enough

Against and around

unfurled in the wild

from the blasted past

to the murmuring deeps

who comes first

who goes last

an endless wave

An earthworm swallowing sand

Numbers: Chapter 2

Eternal cycle
of part and whole

to encamp 
 and to move 

Opposed and surround















[For full chapter, click here
This chapter continues directly from the last, with a shared focus on "father's house" "family" "counting/appointing" (p'k'd), "prince/raised one" (n's'o), and "army". Here, the focus on counting/appointing expands outwards, in a continual point counter-point "travel" and "encamp". Who travels first? Who sets up the encampment? Each sections opens with a repeated use of the root encamp (h'n'a), and closes with a description of travel (s'a'a).
Reverberating in the background of the "fathers" are the unmentioned mothers: the encampment is set up according to the matriarchs. The ones to travel "first" are the children of Leah's triumph, Judah ("this time I will praise God"), Issachar ("reward"), and Zebulun ("fertility" "fecundity"). Those who travel "second" are Leah's older children, who embody her struggle with her sister, Reuben ("God has seen my pain"), Simeon ("God has heard that I am hated") and Gad ("betrayal"--the first child of Leah's maidservant). Those who travel "third" are the displaced Rachel's children. "Last" are the  children of the maidservants, 
The only one to avoid these groupings is Levi, again aligned only with the Dwelling. He travels within his brothers, but apart. They oppose (neged)/surround (savuv) him. 
After enumerating the separations and subliminal tensions, the chapter closes by enumerating the entire encampment ("all were numbered according to their hosts'), bringing together the sub-alliances into a single whole]

Numbers 1: In Writing

Family, father, mother, home

face engraved in face

etched in my name

Carry the inheritance

brimmed tears

entwined battles

neck to neck

arm in arm

One is not

included

hands unlifted

In the long declaim

unclaimed

unnamed

Numbers: Chapter 1

What is carried

And what carries you

How do you make it count?

Set, established, 

Called by name

[For full chapter, click here

From the pointilistic Leviticus-space of "the Tent of Meeting" and "Mount Sinai",  we pan outwards to the "wilderness of Sinai". The broadening space reflects a broadened audience. No longer do we speak only to the priests. Now the words are addressed to the "entire congregation of Israel," and the first act is to appoint "those called by the congregation" to act along with Moses and Aaron. 

The new focus on nationality is reflected in the fact that this is a military census, "all who go out to the army." Yet even in establishing a military, the underlying conception of the congregation is familial. This is an extended family. "The children of Israel" are numbered by "their families," by "their father's house." The tribes are listed not by size or importance, but by their position in the family: Leah's children, then Rachel's (the children of the maidservants are the wild cards, changing order in the listing. As in the closing of Genesis, they are the glue holding the two sides of Israel's family together.) People are called by name; the focus is on "the head", the face, not the militarized body.  

Yet even as we establish this cohesion of distinct families, one tribe is set apart. Levi is not "counted" (p'k'd) or "carried" (in's'a). In a series of word-plays, Levi is instead "appointed" (p'k's) to carry (n's'a) the Dwelling. 

The focus on inside/outside and the liminal space between that so dominated Leviticus here becomes embodied within the very fabric of the nation, that encamps around the inner core of Levi]

Hello Numbers

Here we go. The heart-palpitating crunch of starting a new book--and a new sketchbook.

For Numbers, I decided to keep up with the monocromatic look I have been sustaining since Genesis. This is, after all, a continuing story. But there has also been a change. From a world in formation, and  and a nameless mass of slaves, we have established a nation, with a center and leadership. Though an encampment, Israel has solidified.
In response, I've decided to move from easily erased materials (graphite, conte crayon) to the more permanent material of ink. The image now makes an unchangeable mark.
This is also a technical challenge  I am setting for myself : I feel I've had become too addicted to moving and changing the image as I go, erasing and redrawing multiple times. The move to ink is a way to force myself to make a decision and stick with it.

Along with the challenge, comes the anxiety, and the perfection-delay game: I need the exact right sketchbook, the perfect pen. That's the key! Obviously!
That has not happened. My lovely pen is, as yet, missing. Teh store was out of the sketchbook I had in mind.
So I decided to go with my ancient pen and nib, and use the sketchbook I had in my bag. It's smaller than the books I have used until now, but I want to take the plunge, and get started. After all, we are no longer in the world of the Dwelling, but out in the wilderness. It's a time to make do!

Wish me luck!

Goodbye to Leviticus

Sigh of relief. I admit it. It was a hard one.

The transition from the grand themes of Exodus to the arcane nitty-gritty of Leviticus was jarring. And yes, there were many reasons for the multiple breaks—travel, work, road trips, family responsibility, and that wonderful thing called summer—but still, when I’m honest, can I truly say the subject matter had nothing to do with it?

Leviticus was hard. Reading the intricacies of each chapter was hard; finding an image was hard; being inspired was hard. Animal dissections, strange (and many no longer practiced) rules of ritual purity and impurity, leprosy, the altar, the limitations on permitted food, and limitations on sexuality…

Yet strewn between are also some of the greatest biblical landmarks: “Do not bear a grudge… love your neighbor as yourself”  “Do not hate your brother in your heart”; “do not curse the deaf, or put a stumbling block before the blind”; the care for justice; the active command to protect the weak and vulnerable;  the repeated injunctions to make space for the stranger.  A mix of high and low; animal body parts and love for your neighbor. It’s a discordant mix to the modern ear. Grand themes wrapped in the language of ritual, tying together vicera and spirit. There is no Cartesian duality here, no way to separate the body and the “soul/ life spirit” (nefesh) that so dominates this book/

Having slogged through the laws of sacrifice, I’ve come to realize that on its own terms, Leviticus is unified, and a logical stage to follow Exodus. Genesis revolved  around the creation of the self, with how the self “reaches forth [its] hand” to handle the world. It is the story of developing individual, wrapped in oedipal themes, sibling rivalry, and the sparks of connection between man and woman.

In Exodus, we more from the formation of the self, to the formation of the community. The book deals with the creation of a collective identity around the relationship to God. It closes with the establishment of the Dwelling, the shared space of God and humanity.

In   Leviticus, we move into the Dwelling itself, into this consecrated space of relationship. All the rituals revolve around the creation of boundaries. We define what can be ingested into the body; what must be left outside. Who enters, who is outside, and what happens in the liminal space of connection.  Relationship is a dangerous space: come too close, and one is ingested by the fire; go too far, and one is “cut off” from one’s people.  Intimacy requires the liminal space, the dividing waters, in order to survive. When the divider disappears,  the “soul revolts” in existential nausea.

The ritualistic definition of relationship in turn reflects back on Genesis’ presentation of the self in formation. If Genesis revolves around questions of possession, money and value, Leviticus closes by redefining the limits of possession. Land and humanity cannot be truly owned; only valued. Yet there is a level of connection so deep—“for the Land is Mine”—that it breaks all local bonds of connection. In “devotion” to God, we can no loner speak of value or money. Ther e is only the object itself. In the end, the space of relationship redefines the self.