Judges 17: In Writing

Can I have a chocolate coin? he asks, But you took one without permission, I say. What if I'm good, he says, what if I'm good the whole day?

Do you love me Imma,  he asks, do you?

Of course I do, I say, tired,

Because some kids in my gan day their imma hates them, he says.

Do you love me Imma, do you? he asks

Of course I love you, I say

Because I like to hear you say it, he says. Can I have a chocolate coin?

Judges: Chapter 17

 

What is taken

what is offered

what fills the hand

in the stops along your way

For full chapter, click here

The next chapter begins abruptly, with no mention of the passage of time (the usual bridge between sagas), nor any reference to an external oppressor.  We have left the realm of history, to enter the timeless space of the domestic: a "man from the mountains of Ephraim" in the middle of an exchange with his mother about money.

Yet despite the change of ambiance and setting, there is a strange yet clear textual link to the Samson story: the very specific sum of 1100 silver coins--paid by the Philistines to Delilah for Samson's secret--repeated here, twice, as the sum stolen by Micah from his mother. More subtle: this timeless "in those days" is defined by "each man did what was right in his own eyes" (yashar b'enav), an echo of Samson's justification for his choice of Philistine wife: "for she is right in my eyes" (yeshara hi be'eynai).

The linkage between Micah's coins and Delilah's blood money associates places money at the center, associating it with betrayal, commodification and possession. And indeed, the relationship between Micah and his mother zings around these coins, which change hands repeatedly between them. Micah steals from his mother who curses him, then retracts the curse. He says he will return the money; she says the money is his; then retracts this offer as he gives her the money. Instead, she gives him a fraction  to pay for "an idol and an ephod"--returning us to the Gideon story, with its possibility of hereditary kingship, at a time "when there is no King in Israel.".

 The intense interaction of mother and son contrast with the Samson saga, where Manoach the father keeps asserting his centrality.  In the backdrop is the gaping absence of the father. And indeed in the next section, the father moves centre stage: Micah, now revealed to be a father himself, "fills the hands of his son" to make him the priest of this new house of God-idolatry. Yet when a young Levite passes by, Micah sees an opportunity. Even as the Levite emphasized his migratory status as one who is opportunistically looking to "sojourn where he finds," Micah eagerly grasps at him, begging him to "stay with me and be my father and my priest,"  the missing father found at last. 

To offset this desperation for relationship, Micah offers money: " I will pay you ten shekels of silver a year, an allowance of clothing, and your food." The Levite accepts the blandishments he "has found", and has "his hands filled"  in place of Micah's son. Though Micah searched for a father, "the youth became like one of his own sons" and Micah is convinced that some how in this, he has earned God's blessing.    

Chapter 16: In Writing

 Browned leaves litter the pavement

like clawed hands 

or scattered flames.

 

I love you, my toddler tells me,

digging into my cheeks.

Do you love me?

 

I bury

my nose in his wispy hair.

He grabs my wrist,

 

moves it up and down

his cheek. When I draw away

he pinches me.

 

How do we love each other,

let us count the ways

and how much,

 

and how little

and who more.

How long will you lie to me?

 

A reddened vine encircles

the lemon tree, a leaf cluster

rising to ring the finger

 

when I have you

heart sliced open

prostate on my knees

 

what do we do

with the openings,

what lies in wait inside?

 

Judges: Chapter 16

Rise and fall

on waves of passion

enwrap both sides

and bring it all down around you

 For full chapter, click here

The initial hint of redemptive promise embedded in Samson's marriage in Timnah has come to naught. Now there is no pretense of  relationship, as Samson baldly "meets a prostitute and sleeps with her." Yet even at this nadir, a new hint of redemption awakens: Samson sleeps only till "midnight", returning us to Gideon and his "midnight" battle. And when Samson carries the door with its two "sideposts" (mezuzot), we are carried back to an earlier midnight-- that fateful midnight of the Exodus, when the Israelites demarcated their boundaries by painting their sideposts with blood, so that God "passed over them."

And indeed in the next section, Samson "loves" for the first time--a change from the commodified, brutely sexual language used in his earlier encounter with women. Yet now, instead of buying women and their favors, it is Samson who is bought. Initially, Delilah sells him for silver, which the Philistine chieftains are careful to bring with them to the ambush. Yet as Delilah realizes that the wiley Samson has tricked her, the betrayal also becomes personal, a battle for power over this all-powerful man. "How can you be made helpless?" she asks him, again and again.

The answer is that fatal "love", along with Samson's permeable boundaries, the doorposts he never learned to demarcate. The physically strong Samson is internally weak, lacking staying power.  Just as when his wife coaxed out the answer to his riddle, he cannot withstand Delilah's questioning. Accusations, nagging, and his very "soul wishes to die." On some level, he wishes to be as helpless as he feels inside. Short bursts of intense power he can manage, yet cannot withstand sustained pressure--much as he was ready to die if God did not quench his thirst. 

And die he will. For this time it is not a riddle he reveals, but the source of his strength. In a scene of strange and terrifying tenderness, Delilah realizes that he has revealed "his whole heart", making himself utterly vulnerable. In a dark echo of Jael, she takes on a quasi-maternal role,  lulling him to sleep on her lap. When he is somnolent and infantilized, she calls in the Philistines to strip him of his strength. 

The degradation of Samson alludes to several episodes in his life, a kind of back window view of his downfall. Where once he chose a woman "who was right in his eyes" he is now reduced to an eyeless spectacle to be watched. After sauntering into Azza to sleep with a whore, he is now returned to Azza "to play" for his enemies.  Samson's final moments highlight the leitmotif of duality that has defined him from the moment his birth was announced, his death set into place before his conception. Strength and weakness; rough and sweet. He is the lion, riven in two; the twinned foxes running terrified of the fire burning between them. Where once he carried the gate and its two sideposts, balancing both sides, now he prays to be avenged of only "one of my two eyes." Symbolically, he wraps himself around both supporting beams, crushing them together, his duality forced to singularity, bringing the temple down.

Let my soul die with the Philistines, he prays. The saga ends chiastically, as Samson is collected by his brethren, and carried back to the Dannite lands between Tzorah and Eshtaol where his story began. And yet despite this return, Samson remains entwined and defined by the Philistines--the nation to whom he related, married, hated, loved, and died. Yes, he is buried with his father Manoach, but does he truly return?

Chapter 15: In Writing

Wails. She is curled on the floor.
She pushed me first! he says,
upright in his righteousness.

and now the baby is crying
Hurt me! Hurt me! 
pointing forlornly. 

He’s half your size! I say. 

Look at him!
But he stole my truck, he retorts. 

 
Gangly, he towers above the kindergarten, 
Look how strong I am, 

he boasts, 

Yes, I say, yes you are, 

don't say, 

and even when you were two

they called you a bully
as youngest–but largest–
you shoved for your turn.
 
By now she has picked herself up,

picks up the small metal dump truck
and hurls it at him

it smacks his face, 

scratching the corner of his eye.

When he screams,

she rushes at him, kicking. 
A millee,  all wailing together
as my hands close over my ears  

Judges: Chapter 15

 

Strong as a lion
wily as a fox
the multitudes within
flaring out 
to burn the spaces between

[for full chapter, click here

Samson continues on his trajectory, a figure of ever-growing extremes. In this chapter, he acts completely alone, freed even from the human framework of his parents. Now he is a rogue, closest to his animal familiars. If in the previous chapter, his doppelganger was the lion he tore apart, here he expresses himself through the medium of the 300 foxes he uses as weapons. The lion embodies his inhuman strength; the foxes his strange, playful intelligence. Yet in both cases,  the animals also embody the contradictory tensions that defined him even before birth: the powerful lion is filled with sweet honey; the wiley foxes burn with uncontainable fire.

Just as the lion is torn into two, the foxes also are riven in two directions. Samson connects them in pairs, and the fire flares out  between the tails, destruction coming from two forces pulling in opposite directions. 

Like Whitman, Samson is "vast" and "contains multatutes." The story is dense with intertextuality. If Samson's annunciation echoes the story of Sarah and Isaac, and his descent to Timnah alludes to Judah's journey, here his story recalls Jacob's, as he is offered one sister in place of another. Yet unlike Jacob, who must accept the logic of replacement after stepping into his own brother's shoes, Samson insists on the specific choice of "what is right in his own eyes." In some ways, he is closer to Jacob's twin, Esau, utterly overwhelmed by his own appetites. Esau exchanges his birthright for a bowl of soup; while Samson is willing to exchange his life for water. Like the twinned foxes. Samson holds both primordial twins within him. 

The fire that has haunted this text since Ephraim threatened to burn down Jephthah's house around him here burns fully, destroying everything around it. Samson's twinned foxes destroy the fields and vineyards and olive groves. The Philistines respond by avenging themselves on Samson's faithless wife, "burning the house down" on her and her father. For nothing did she betray Samson to avoid the companions' threat to "burn down the house around her," The fire, like Checkov's gun, was burning already, and only waiting to be unleashed. 

Samson sought marriage to the woman in Timnah as a pretext to battle the Philistines. Now the political reality of ruler and ruled becomes instead tit-for-tat, with each side promising to do to the other as was done to them.

Yet despite this intensely personal and unstable relationship, we are told that Samson "judged" Israel. Even though Judah gives him over to the Philistenes as a lone-wolf vigilante, somewhere, somehow, Samson achieves a level of leadership. ] 

Judges 14: In Writing

Too cold, she says

snatching back her hands

I add hot. No

More. Too hot, she says.

Pours the cup out.

The tights are too tight

and the wrong pink

and have lines.

She puts on the blue

pale bulb of her right toe

exposed.

They're torn, I say, 

and don't match.

It's what I like, she retorts.

Back up dress in her bag--

just in case. Water

bottle exactly full 

Hold me, she says

I need you to hold me. 

On the couch. Exactly 

in the regular spot,

her slight body

burrowing into mine.

So hard, to face the world

As flayed as Marsiyas

insides exposed

to the wind's every tremor.

Judges: Chapter 14

 

Between up and down,

predator and prey

rough and sweet

strong and weak--

how not to be torn in two

[For full chapter, click here
And Samson went down to Timnah. The prophesized Samson has grown into maturity--and domination. No longer is the story about Manoach and his wife, or about the woman and her man: the former protagonists are now simply "his father and mother", Manoach as nameless as his wife.

With Samson's growth into manhood, the ambiguity introduced before his conception comes into full expression. The chapter is taught with the tensions between contradictions: Samson rises and goes down; he is physically strong and psychologically weak; he riddles about sweetness and terror. The striking image of the lion carcass dripping honey embodies these contradictory forces. The fact that the carcass is riven in two adds a dark undertone of doom. Samson skirts the edge of possibilities, walking through vineyards he is forbidden to drink from; marrying a woman he cannot really have. His inability to withstand his wife's nagging hints that these tensions cannot always be contained.

The opening movement toward Timnah returns us to Judah's journey toward Timnah in Genesis 28, where he too discovers duality. The two scenes are in dialogue: Judah's journey begins when he "goes down" from his brothers; he too discovers a woman, in language that is crude and sexual; both scenes contain a kid goat. The allusions to Judah's encounter with Tamar introduce the possibility that Samson's descent to the Philistines will also be redemptive: Judah's apparently illicit encounter with Tamar led to life after repeated death (and to the birth of Peretz, eventual forefather of the Davidic dynasty). Here too we are informed that Samson's "request was from God." Yet in contrast to Judah, who "goes up" to Timnah, Samson repeatedly "goes down," implying that the movement is more than spatial--and that perhaps these journies have different metaphoric trajectories. ]

Judges 13: In Writing

Morning, and the light is

laden with meaning.

Caulking the walls

warming the trees.

Overhead, dark clouds lower

big-bellied and dark

with potential.

 

Watch the light trace the ominous 

dark in a halo.

Watch it outline the empty spaces.

Watch it fade in a flurry.

 

Sometimes the light entices

promising intoxication 

deeper than wine’s 

headache sluggishness.

 

On my knees

I dig a small hole

and drop a smooth bulb in.

No hairline roots

to burst the earth

like a crack

streaks a mirror 

before it shatters.

 

Pat the dark earth around,

sticky rot scent 

caking my fingers.

 

Imagine an arrow of red rising

to unfurl in a perfect 

cupped poppy.

Drunk, and not with wine.

Judges: Chapter 13

 

The nameless space

between a woman and her man

expect wonders and the wild

[For full chapter, click here

After a spate of minor, short-term judges, we arrive at another definitive period of 40 years: this time  of oppression rather than leadership. This definitive break indeed sets the stage anew. We open a story about a woman who "is barren and has born no children," taking us back to the nation's prehistory, to the barren matriarchs Sarah, Rebecca and Rachel. 

Once again, we have a scene of annunciation, with a mysterious figure that hovers between angel and man, announcing the birth of a longed-for child. Yet if Sarah overheard the message spoken to Abraham from "within the tent," this time the message is given directly to "the woman", as she sits in the field. The chapter revolves around and accentuates this tension, as Manoach expects the message to be given to him; "prays" (va'yetar, in an echo of Isaac's prayer for a child in Genesis 25) to God for the message to be given to him;  and yet the "man" of God appears once more to "the woman". Monoach receives the message only because "the woman" runs to call "her man", and the angel repeats his instructions. 

The woman is a nameless "wife of," yet even as Manoach tries to override her role as intermediary, only she can receive this message of hope and warning. Indeed,  her namelessness aligns her with the angel, who "gave no name" and warns Manoach not to ask for his name (in another primordial echo of Jacob's battle with the angel at Penuel).  

The message consecrates the to-be-born child prior to birth, dedicating the woman's body.  The boy is to be a Nazarite "from the womb until the day of his death." This instruction already sets into place a toll of doom, with death present before the child is even conceived. He is only to "begin to redeem Israel from the Philistenes"--he will not be able to complete the job. The abstention from wine and wild hair, are double edged, for in limiting the body, they make the body more present. This child is to be very corporeal. God "pulses" within him, squeezing him like a heart.

"My name is wonderous" (pilli פלאי), says the angel in response to Manoach's request for a name. The root p'l'e returns us to the original definition of the Nazarite as someone who "goes beyond" (yafil יפלאי), his very abstention borderline transgressive, requiring a sin-offering. This child-to-be-born will be a wildcard--wonderous,  transgressive, and doomed. 

The laws of the Nazarite appear immediately after those of the Sotah, the wayward wife, and the two sections are full of intertextual allusions, the Sotah's wild locks (p'r'e) a precursor of the Nazarite's wild mane (p'r'e). The two are presented as inverted transgressions, mirror images of how we deal with the issues of boundaries and bodies.

Within this context, the focus on Manoah's "woman" and "her man" (the two leitwords of this section) takes on primordial force. We are entering a story that returns us to the primal relationship between ish and Isha, defined all the way back in the Garden of Eden. The angel, defined by Manoach as "the man who spoke to the woman" becomes borderline transgressive, creating a proto-Sotah triangle, except that in this case, the "man" does not become jealous. There is trust to counter the dangers of intimacy.]