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 1

 

Start the after

we go up, we go down

jostled together.

Give me your blessing!

All we don't have

pressing against us 

unwanted intimacy

lodged in our throat

as we spin, again and again.

[For full chapter, click here
The chapter begins "after the death of Joshua."It is both a continuation and a reprise, revisiting events that took place in the era of Joshua to create a bridge into this new reality. It is indeed a new reality of leadership, and the transformation is made apparent almost immediately. "Who shall go up for us initially, to fight the Cannanites?" (Judges 1: 1) the nation asks, searching for a new leader. ""Judah shall go up" (1:2) God answers, shifting the focus from individual to tribe. Relationships have now become fraternal rather than hierarchal ("Judah said to his brother"), as leadership disseminates within the tribal structure. Key events of the story of Joshua are retold within this new framework: the story of the conquest of Hebron the story of the conquest of Hebron is retold, yet this time with the focus on Judah, rather than the heroic Caleb. Here, it is the tribe that grants Caleb his inheritance, rather than the man who leads the tribe. as the leader is subsumed within his tribe. Only one individual still is given a central place: Otniel ben Knaz, conquerer of Debir, who fairytale-like, is granted Ahsa as his wife, in a passage is lifted almost verbatim from the account in Joshua. As in Joshua, Ahsa demands a "blessing" of her father, in the only piece of individual dialogue, and is granted the "upper and lower waters". 
The reprise of the list of conquered and unconquered areas builds a precarious bridge to a new, dangerous era. The list of conquests is matched by a negative list of "not conquest", as the Canaanites "are resolved to dwell in that land" (1: 27). Even when the sons of Joseph manage to conquer Luz, they are haunted by a negative shadow of Luz, created by the Cannanites that left: "and the man named the city Luz, which is its name to this very day" (1:26).  Rather than a triumphant settlement of the "land resting from war" that is the refrain of Joshua, we are presented with a tension-filled subjugation and uneasy coexistence.  At the closing of the chapter, the negative refrain of "did not inherit" (lo horish) turns into active dispossession, as the tribe of Dan is driven off its land and into the mountains. Is this what will happen to all?

A Belated Goodbye to Joshua

 It feels strange to say “Goodbye to Joshua” when I have just said a new “hello.”

After several years (!), I can't even begin to understand or explain what made me stop the Joshua section one chapter before completion.

I do remember after the end of Deuteronomy, I felt like I had reached closure, a natural stop point. Joshua always felt like a tag-along, an added experiment. I experienced the Book of Joshua as a comedown after the high poetry and complex narratology of Deuteronomy—the language mundane, the violence off-putting. And as a first-time new mother, I also had other concerns that felt more urgent. Yet why I stopped right before the end, I can’t say. No doubt there were some deep, unacknowledged currents there. I do know that the longer I waited, the more distant I felt from the project, and the harder it became to go back. Finally I blocked it out. A niggling untied end that I refused to consider.

Then came this year’s terrible Simchat Torah and its aftermath. As October turned to November, November to December, month after month, the war raging on with no exit point, I found myself completely blocked. Words disappeared.  When I tried to draw, I had to push against the intractable weight of futility. It was as bad—worse—as the block that started me on the Bibliodraw project so many years ago. This time I didn’t have whiplash or amnesia. My arm was working. It was my heart that wasn’t. I found myself desperate for a daily project. And the only project that seemed real enough and urgent enough to matter was Bibliodraw—a project in which I had already invested so much, a project embodying so many layers and history.  It is also a project that gives me a framework of feeling my way through this desperate time. Feeling my way, as I always have, with the “tikvat hut ha-shani”,  Rahab’s guiding bright thread of central archetypal narratives. Returning to Bibliodraw is returning to the questions: what are we doing here? How do we earn this home? How do we lose it? A project that could engage my heart and intellect and hand as one.

Finding a quiet moment does not happen often with four little kids in war time. But I suddenly had a day when I woke up, and all my children were in childcare, and I had no urgent projects that I needed to complete. For the first time in what seemed like months, I drew a deep breath. And I said: I'm going to finish this. I will at least complete Joshua, and close this one circle. Tie up this one dangling thread.

Because, despite all my denials, it was still bothering me. The notebook there, sitting in my closet, incomplete. And so I spent my quiet day reading through Joshua again. This is a much more condensed process that my other “goodbyes”, which were the slow accumulation of weeks' worth of ruminations and thoughts. This rather is the result of months of studying, years of silence, then a quick one-day review

So, the those thoughts after this review.

The Book of Joshua opens with a promise and a charge: I will be with you like I was with Moses, but you must take courage and be strong. The book indeed continues directly from the story of Moses, providing a bridge from Deuteronomy, . Yet it also actively redoes Moses’ legacy in a complex balancing act.   Jooshua’sleadership begins with crossing the Jordan, in a conscious recreation  of the parting of the Red Sea. This places him in the position of Moses, even as it rebirths Israel yet again as a nation. This is a new generation, with a new destiny.

Israel then camps in Gilgal, where they recreate the Exodus, celebrating Passover. It is a place of renewed literal brit, reactivating circumcision after the years of wandering: “Make thee knives of flint, and circumcise again the children of Israel the second time. … them [the children born in the desert] did Joshua circumcise; for they were uncircumcised, because they had not been circumcised by the way.” The desert era is seen as a hiatus, a kind of suspended animation between the beginning of the journey and its end. It is only now, when the children of Israel camp in Gilgal that they start national life anew

The ideas originally presented by Moses in the desert, which existed until this point only in words and concept, are now put into action, finding embodiment in the concrete space of the Land: cities of refuge, covenants in specific places, words literally etched in stone. Yet embodiment is a dynamic  and gradual process. Ideas become real, but not at once. Repetition and variation are key elements as this book. We keep going back to revisit history, even as we move forward. There is aonstant tension between potential and actual, becoming and being. The virtual desert journey does not truly end.

Again and again the verses declare that the conquest is complete, that the land is “subdued”, that Israel is settled and secure. Again and again, we find that it is not so. The same cities are conquered and unconquered, again and again: Hebron, Debir. This tension is perfectly encapsulated at the end of the era, when Joshua sends out representatives of eeach of the tribes to scout out and demarcatethe boundaries of their estate (18: 4). The land is then “distributed…each to his inheritance” (19:49), and they make “and end of dividing the land’ (19: 51), even though, as we find out, the land is as yet mostly unconquered, and not yet theirs to divide. The inheritance “ends” in abstracted visualization, even as in concrete terms it remains undone.   

Throughout this intense period of process, Gilgal is the home base, from which Israel sets out in short sorties, returning back to this space of covenant, as they try to work out the relationship between themselves and God.

The conquest begins with thedivine battle at with Jericho, which is essentially a version of the Jubilee (yovel): seven cycles on the seventh day, which ends with the blowing of the shofar (yovel), in a recreation of the Jubilee opening which undoes human ownership. With the blowing of the Jubilee horn, all the land returns to the owners originally allotted by God, all debts are cancelled, human possession and transactions are undone.  We return to origin. Just so, Israel’s inheritance of the land begins with God announcing a Jubilee, undoing the ownership of the Canaanites. The yovel is blown, the land returns to God. The victory is not the people’s ,but completely herem—forbidden, within the realm of the divine.

The second battle with Ai opens the door for human involvement in battle, as God steps back, acting mostly as tactician. And throughout the book, Joshua pushing for greater and greater human involvement. “You are a great people, who have great power…you shall drive out the Canaanites” (17:17), he tells the children of Joseph, urging them to take charge of their inheritance.

Yet at the very closing, the book returns to its opening point of yovel: the land is not truly theirs. It remains always God’s, a gift that precludes true possession, always given, never had. It is the process itself that is true belonging, the various points where God showed his faithfulness. What remains is to make a choice, and witness your own commitment.

Numbers: Chapter 20

Speak to stone

And beg for water

Call out

"I mean no harm"

Wait for answer

Can you force it

from the rock?

[For full chapter, click here

A time of closings. In the aftermath of the spies, the entire generation was condemned to die in the desert in the course of 40 years. Now, at this first month of an unspecified year,  the full implications become clear. Miriam and Aaron die, and Moses' death is announced. He too shall die in the desert. Indeed only Joshua and Caleb will enter the Land from the previous generation. 

Again, we seem caught in a re-run of Exodus, but with more deadly implications. As happened before, there is no water; as before, God commands Moses to "take his staff" and bring water from the stone. This time, the command is to "Speak  to the stone." Moses instead "smites" it twice, in language that hearkens back to his role as redeemer in Egypt, when he "smote" the Nile to bring the plagues.

But the use of the staff is a fatal mistake. "Because you didn't believe in Me, to sanctify Me before the eyes of Israel, you shall not bring this assembly into the land which I am giving them" God declares. The water was to have come through asking, not through force. The role of the staff has changed--a indicated by the sudden flowering of Aaron's staff after the battle with Korach. Moses' return to his old role indicates that he can no longer lead the nation.

The limitation on force is highlighted in the next section, where Moses send to the King of Edom to ask for permission to pass through his lands of Edom. There are two attempts at persuasion, reiterating the narratives of Genesis ("Your brother") and Exodus. Yet  speech does not work here, Edom threatens violence, and the Israelites must "turn". What does it mean to ask for something from implacable stone?

We seem to have come to the non-negotiable. Solid stone, death and endings.]

Numbers: Chapter 18

All that rises

All that is first

A gift and gifted

Given and giving

Placed only in You

[For full chapter, click here

After all the battles and controversy, this chapter comes to both consolidate and redefine the position of Aaron , while subtly answering some of Korah's contentions. The change is encapsulated in the chapter's two  key words roots: sh'm'r, to guard, protect, keep; and n't'n, to give, given, a gift. 

The priesthood is now defined primarily as protection. In contrast to Korah's assertion that Moses and Aaron are "carrying themselves" (n's'a) over the rest of Israel, God defines the priesthood as "carrying (n's'a) the sin of the sanctuary". The kohanim guard Israel from the dangers of too much closeness and are the guardians of the holy. 

Levi  is also redefined. Their role as connector here becomes "accompaniment" (l'v'i--the literal meaning of the tribe's name).  "Your brothers, the tribe of Levi, the tribe of your father, bring them close with you, let them accompany you, and minister to you..." Levi here becomes the extension of Aaron,the brother who walk along with him. They too are guardians, offering a wider circle of protection. Yet simultaneously, they remain "from within the Children of Israel", keeping the priests connected to the people.

In answer to Karah's questioning of Aaron's deserving, the priesthood is defined as a "gift": "a gift service". Freely given, it cannot be questioned, and asks no deserving. Yet even as they are given gifts, the priests and Levites are also "given"--netunim. It is a mutual giving and taking. 

What is more, every gifts excludes others. In being gifted the service, the kohanim are not given the "land that God gave" to the Israel. They're only placement is God Himself. "I am their part and inheritance within the children of Israel".

Apart, but not truly separate, Levi and the priests are the part of Israel that has been given a different, more dangerous, inheritance. They, like the gifts given to them, are what "rises" (teruma, commonly translated as "heave offering")--a part of the while, yet set aside. ]

Numbers: Chapter 17

What remains

in the ashes

What flowers 

in the night

Standing between 
life and death

Tomorrow, and tomorrow, 
and  tomorrow









[For full chapter, click here

We continue the leitmotif of "complaints" (tlunah, melenim), and explosive anger. The key words of this chapter continue seamlessly from  the last.
In a recreation of death of Nadav and Avihu, "consumed" for bringing "alien fire", Kora'sh250 men are consumed. They have come too "close" (k'r'v) and pay the price; only the remains of their "fire pans" achieve the consecration (k'd'sh) they sought, as they are made an eternal "sign" (ot) on the altar.
If until this point, Moses has been the calming voice, with God "flaring" in anger, Korach's personal attach led Moses to "flare" in anger himself. The people seem to sense the personal nature of Moses' anger, and blame him for "bringing death" to "God's nation". Once again, God's anger flares, are the entire nation is in danger of being "consumed / finished" (akhale, which plays on akhl, eaten) as teh 250 men were. Moses returns to playing the calming role. If before, he mixed death and life by having Korah descend "living into the underworld"; he now commands Aaron to "stand between the living and the dead."
The chapter closes with God commanding the princes (nesiim) of the tribes (mateh) --who until now have been  the source of discord-- to bring their staffs(mateh)  to the Tent of Meeting. In a play on words, the "congregation" (edah) bring the staffs to the Tend of Meeting (mo'ed) to stand before the testimony (edut). At last there is an attempt--if only lexical--to bridge the gap between the problematic mob/congregation and the Dwelling. The final "sign" (ot) of God's choice of Aaron is far more hopeful than the first: a flowering budding staff, hinting at life and rebirth.] 

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: 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.]

Leviticus: Chapter 11

Divine and human eating
What is set aside







Division
and transition

What is touched
carried
ingested

Within flowing waters







[For full chapter, click here
Aaron's answer to Moses at the closing of the previous chapter triggers a change. He is now a subject rather than passive object; no longer spoken to, but one of the speakers.
After the "fire that came forth" to "eat" (ahal) the offerings and the two sons of Aaron, we move to human eating: what can be eaten, and what cannot. As in the previous chapter, the focus is on the specificity of appropriateness. "These are the things that are good for you" "they are unclean to you." All is defined by context; nothing is absolute. 
The aftermath of the death of Nadav and Avihu continues to be havdala, differentiation. As in the previous chapter, the clearly demarcated spaces and merged by transitional limens. The priests who remain at the doorway here becomes the watery solvent that both doesn't become impure, but  yet enables impurity. We differentiate between what enters the lips, ingested ; and what is carried outside the body]

Leviticus: Chapter 9

On this day

Today

Come close

See and make seen

Fire flows forth

Burning blessing

[For full chapter, click here

"And it was on the eighth day"... After all the laws and preparation, the seven liminal "days of filling" we finally arrive back on the day of consecration that closed the Book of Exodus. After standing "in the doorway" Aaron at last "goes out," (vayetze) connecting the inner world of the sanctuary and the outer world of the people in a "blessing" which causes "a fire to go forth (vayetze) from God.

They leitwords are "close, to approach" (karev, korban), to see (vayar, veyeru), and "face" (pani, lifnim). This is a day of intimacy, and of God making Himself visible. 

The priests continue to function as a living element of the Dwelling. They are the connecting pieces between the people and the altar, "coming close" (karev) to bring the offerings of closeness (korban).  ]

Leviticus: Chapter 8

At the portal

Dedicated in blood

Fill me

Clothe me in glory

Atone and consecrate

Altar and man made one

[For full chapter, click here

The dedication. The link between kohen and dwelling becomes even more intense, as they are consecrated in a single ceremony. Aaron is dressed; the alter is consecrated;  Aaron's children are dressed; both are consecrated with the oil and blood from the altar, so that priest and altar become a single unit. The priests here are utterly passive, dressed and moved by Moses--just another component of the many-faceted Dwelling. The offerings are measured by "the filling of their hands": they are the measurement of the altar.

As in the case of the sin offering, the kohen stands in for the nation as a whole, brought by "the entire congregation."  

This time of dedication centers on the limen, placed between two worlds. "The whole nation" congregates "to the door"; Aaron and his sons are to be "at the doorway of the Dwelling for the Days of Filling."  We are at the transitional stage]

Exodus 29: In Writing

Hallow the cupped sieves
the hollows between door an wall
in satiated silence
hold out my palm

You are Thou
I am them

curled in amniotic fluid
floating in whispered breath
moved with heartbeat
clothe me in your waters

Exodus: Chapter 29

Fill the hollows 

With the hallowed

Atonement

At-one-ment

A contagious indwelling

Reaching out

[For full chapter, click here

From the creation of the consecrating clothing, to their activation. The clothing is placed on Aaron and his sons, creating a “everlasting ministry (kahuna).” From an action “to minister” (le-kahen) we have moved into an existential state.  

The key word of the chapter is “fulfillment” “filling”—Milui/miluim. The consecration is defined by “filling the hands” (le-maleh et yadam), and happens when the bread is placed “on the palms” of Aaron and his sons. The seven day ceremony (again, a play on the definitive Sabbath) is Miluim, the filling; the sacrifices are the ayil miluim—the “ram of  fulfillment”. The existential emptiness—is God amongst us or nothingness, the hollow at the center of the altar, is at last being filled.

The “fulfillment” is accompanied by a focus on atonement, which also is a seven day process. The creation of holiness is fraught with danger of missteps.

Yet it ends with completion. From the liminal “gate” to the tent of meeting, the sacred space spreads “outside.” Holiness becomes contagious. Anything that touches the altar becomes “hallowed.” The chapter closes with a tripartite hallowedness, of Israel, of the altar, or the kohanim. God will “dwell within the Children of Israel and be their God.” We return to the opening words at Sinai, as Israel for the first time truly “knows that I am their God who took them out of Egypt.” ]

Exodus 4: In Writing

There is

a breath that moves

between 

exhaled inhaled

stirring the air

coiling danger

World is an unexpected meeting

with nothing cast down

nothing forgotten

where what you throw

returns to chase you

all the things we refuse to carry

Send me forth

living messenger

speaking words to the wind

the heaviness of the mouth

the closed lips of being

ppen to breath you in

Exodus: Chapter 4

To send forth
put words in someone's mouth
can you be another's mouth?


Complex identities
strange meetings

learning to listen

[For full chapter, click here
The chapter seamlessly continues the battle by the bush. Now Moses emerges not only as the one who "turns to see" but also as the one who fights. The same Moses who did not hesitate to smite the Egyptian and to reprimand the two Hebrews, now openly contradicts God: "they will not believe me, they will listen to me." The linkage between sight and sound that dominated the previous chapter, develops to a connection between faith and listening.
And the central leiword: sending forth. How does one act in another's stead? Moses is to act for God; Aaron is to act for Moses. A merging of identities, and for the first time in the Bible,the primal  threat of "sending forth the hand" (shelihut yad) is used in a positive sense. There is a way to extend identity without grasping what is not meant for you.
Edenic themes abound: Sending forth the hand; the serpent, and the words shared between Aaron and Moses' mouths--an echo of the creation of Man, where God "breathes in" life, and Man begins to speak)