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When Jacob fled from Laban’s house,
He went with everything he had.
With Laban off and shearing sheep,
He set his face towards Gilead.

It was while Laban was away
That Rachel did a thing most odd:
While packing for escape that day,
she pilfered Laban’s household gods.

When Laban found out they had left,
He mounted chase in swift pursuit,
O’ertook them, leveled charge of theft,
Demanded swift return of loot.

But Jacob raised protest, denied,
Invited him to search the tent.
Whoever stole would surely die.
(Not knowing Rachel’s ill intent)

So Laban searches, he finds naught
The idol hid between her legs.
“I cannot rise,” remains uncaught.
“The way of women,” how she begs.

At this, I thought, a question begs,
For Rachel felt a sense of shame,
An idol hid between her legs,
But do we likewise feel the same?

The idol ‘twixt the legs now, sex,
We glorify and lift on high.
We, full immune to shame’s effects,
No longer blush, see naught awry.

We flaunt it in the public square
For all to see, on full display
These things just better left unshared,
That shouldn’t see the light of day.

What lesson do we draw from this?
Perhaps it’s simply to remind
That, holding on, we are remiss;
Our idols, best, when left behind.

(from Genesis 31)

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