Written by
David Lehman |
Some people find out they are Jews.
They can't believe it.
Thy had always hated Jews.
As children they had roamed in gangs on winter nights in the old
neighborhood, looking for Jews.
They were not Jewish, they were Irish.
They brandished broken bottles, tough guys with blood on their
lips, looking for Jews.
They intercepted Jewish boys walking alone and beat them up.
Sometimes they were content to chase a Jew and he could elude
them by running away. They were happy just to see him run
away. The coward! All Jews were yellow.
They spelled Jew with a small j jew.
And now they find out they are Jews themselves.
It happened at the time of the Spanish Inquisition.
To escape persecution, they pretended to convert to Christianity.
They came to this country and settled in the Southwest.
At some point oral tradition failed the family, and their
secret faith died.
No one would ever have known if not for the bones that turned up
on the dig.
A disaster. How could it have happened to them?
They are in a state of panic--at first.
Then they realize that it is the answer to their prayers.
They hasten to the synagogue or build new ones.
They are Jews at last!
They are free to marry other Jews, and divorce them, and intermarry
with Gentiles, God forbid.
They are model citizens, clever and thrifty.
They debate the issues.
They fire off earnest letters to the editor.
They vote.
They are resented for being clever and thrifty.
They buy houses in the suburbs and agree not to talk so loud.
They look like everyone else, drive the same cars as everyone else,
yet in their hearts they know they're different.
In every minyan there are always two or three, hated by
the others, who give life to one ugly stereotype or another:
The grasping Jew with the hooked nose or the Ivy League Bolshevik
who thinks he is the agent of world history.
But most of them are neither ostentatiously pious nor
excessively avaricious.
How I envy them! They believe.
How I envy them their annual family reunion on Passover,
anniversary of the Exodus, when all the uncles and aunts and
cousins get together.
They wonder about the heritage of Judaism they are passing along
to their children.
Have they done as much as they could to keep the old embers
burning?
Others lead more dramatic lives.
A few go to Israel.
One of them calls Israel "the ultimate concentration camp."
He tells Jewish jokes.
On the plane he gets tipsy, tries to seduce the stewardess.
People in the Midwest keep telling him reminds them of Woody
Allen.
He wonders what that means. I'm funny? A sort of nervous
intellectual type from New York? A Jew?
Around this time somebody accuses him of not being Jewish enough.
It is said by resentful colleagues that his parents changed their
name from something that sounded more Jewish.
Everything he publishes is scrutinized with reference to "the
Jewish question."
It is no longer clear what is meant by that phrase.
He has already forgotten all the Yiddish he used to know, and
the people of that era are dying out one after another.
The number of witnesses keeps diminishing.
Soon there will be no one left to remind the others and their
children.
That is why he came to this dry place where the bones have come
to life.
To live in a state of perpetual war puts a tremendous burden on the
population. As a visitor he felt he had to share that burden.
With his gift for codes and ciphers, he joined the counter-
terrorism unit of army intelligence.
Contrary to what the spook novels say, he found it possible to
avoid betraying either his country or his lover.
This was the life: strange bedrooms, the perfume of other men's
wives.
As a spy he has a unique mission: to get his name on the front
page of the nation's newspaper of record. Only by doing that
would he get the message through to his immediate superior.
If he goes to jail, he will do so proudly; if they're going to
hang him anyway, he'll do something worth hanging for.
In time he may get used to being the center of attention, but
this was incredible:
To talk his way into being the chief suspect in the most
flamboyant murder case in years!
And he was innocent!
He could prove it!
And what a book he would write when they free him from this prison:
A novel, obliquely autobiographical, set in Vienna in the twilight
of the Hapsburg Empire, in the year that his mother was born.
|
Written by
Rudyard Kipling |
1897
God of our fathers, known of old,
Lord of our far-flung battle-line,
Beneath whose awful Hand we hold
Dominion over palm and pine—
Lord God of Hosts, be with us yet,
Lest we forget—lest we forget!
The tumult and the shouting dies;
The Captains and the Kings depart:
Still stands Thine ancient sacrifice,
An humble and a contrite heart.
Lord God of Hosts, be with us yet,
Lest we forget—lest we forget!
Far-called, our navies melt away;
On dune and headland sinks the fire:
Lo, all our pomp of yesterday
Is one with Nineveh and Tyre!
Judge of the Nations, spare us yet,
Lest we forget—lest we forget!
If, drunk with sight of power, we loose
Wild tongues that have not Thee in awe,
Such boastings as the Gentiles use,
Or lesser breeds without the Law—
Lord God of Hosts, be with us yet,
Lest we forget—lest we forget!
For heathen heart that puts her trust
In reeking tube and iron shard,
All valiant dust that builds on dust,
And guarding, calls not Thee to guard,
For frantic boast and foolish word—
Thy mercy on Thy People, Lord!
|
Written by
Wystan Hugh (W H) Auden |
Among pelagian travelers,Lost on their lewd conceited wayTo Massachusetts, Michigan,Miami or L.A., An airborne instrument I sit,Predestined nightly to fulfillColumbia-Giesen-Management'sUnfathomable will, By whose election justified,I bring my gospel of the MuseTo fundamentalists, to nuns,to Gentiles and to Jews, And daily, seven days a week,Before a local sense has jelled,From talking-site to talking-siteAm jet-or-prop-propelled. Though warm my welcome everywhere,I shift so frequently, so fast,I cannot now say where I wasThe evening before last, Unless some singular eventShould intervene to save the place,A truly asinine remark,A soul-bewitching face, Or blessed encounter, full of joy,Unscheduled on the Giesen Plan,With, here, an addict of Tolkien,There, a Charles Williams fan. Since Merit but a dunghill is,I mount the rostrum unafraid:Indeed, 'twere damnable to askIf I am overpaid. Spirit is willing to repeatWithout a qualm the same old talk,But Flesh is homesick for our snugApartment in New York. A sulky fifty-six, he findsA change of mealtime utter hell,Grown far too crotchety to likeA luxury hotel. The Bible is a goodly bookI always can peruse with zest,But really cannot say the sameFor Hilton's Be My Guest. Nor bear with equanimityThe radio in students' cars,Muzak at breakfast, or--dear God!--Girl-organists in bars. Then, worst of all, the anxious thought,Each time my plane begins to sinkAnd the No Smoking sign comes on:What will there be to drink?Is this a milieu where I mustHow grahamgreeneish! How infra dig!Snatch from the bottle in my bagAn analeptic swig? Another morning comes: I see,Dwindling below me on the plane,The roofs of one more audienceI shall not see again. God bless the lot of them, althoughI don't remember which was which:God bless the U.S.A., so large,So friendly, and so rich.
|
Written by
Robert Browning |
ON WHICH THE JEWS WERE FORCED TO
ATTEND AN ANNUAL CHRISTIAN SERMON
IN ROME.
[``Now was come about Holy-Cross Day,
and now must my lord preach his first sermon
to the Jews: as it was of old cared for in tine
merciful bowels of the Church, that, so to
speak, a crumb at least from her conspicuous
table here in Rome should be, though but
once yearly, cast to the famishing dogs, under-trampled
and bespitten-upon beneath the feet
of the guests. And a moving sight in truth,
this, of so many of the besotted blind restif
and ready-to-perish Hebrews! now maternally
brought---nay (for He saith, `Compel them
to come in') haled, as it were, by the head and
hair, and against their obstinate hearts, to partake
of the heavenly grace. What awakening,
what striving with tears, what working of a
yeasty conscience! Nor was my lord wanting
to himself on so apt an occasion; witness
the abundance of conversions which did incontinently
reward him: though not to my
lord be altogether the glory.''---_Diary by the
Bishop's Secretary,_ 1600.]
What the Jews really said, on thus being
driven to church, was rather to this effect:---
I.
Fee, faw, fum! bubble and squeak!
Blessedest Thursday's the fat of the week.
Rumble and tumble, sleek and rough,
Stinking and savoury, simug and gruff,
Take the church-road, for the bell's due chime
Gives us the summons---'tis sermon-time!
II.
Bob, here's Barnabas! Job, that's you?
Up stumps Solomon---bustling too?
Shame, man! greedy beyond your years
To handsel the bishop's shaving-shears?
Fair play's a jewel! Leave friends in the lurch?
Stand on a line ere you start for the church!
III.
Higgledy piggledy, packed we lie,
Rats in a hamper, swine in a stye,
Wasps in a bottle, frogs in a sieve,
Worms in a carcase, fleas in a sleeve.
Hist! square shoulders, settle your thumbs
And buzz for the bishop---here he comes.
IV.
Bow, wow, wow---a bone for the dog!
I liken his Grace to an acorned hog.
What, a boy at his side, with the bloom of a lass,
To help and handle my lord's hour-glass!
Didst ever behold so lithe a chine?
His cheek hath laps like a fresh-singed swine.
V.
Aaron's asleep---shove hip to haunch,
Or somebody deal him a dig in the paunch!
Look at the purse with the tassel and knob,
And the gown with the angel and thingumbob!
What's he at, quotha? reading his text!
Now you've his curtsey---and what comes next?
VI.
See to our converts---you doomed black dozen---
No stealing away---nor cog nor cozen!
You five, that were thieves, deserve it fairly;
You seven, that were beggars, will live less sparely;
You took your turn and dipped in the hat,
Got fortune---and fortune gets you; mind that!
VII.
Give your first groan---compunction's at work;
And soft! from a Jew you mount to a Turk.
Lo, Micah,---the selfsame beard on chin
He was four times already converted in!
Here's a knife, clip quick---it's a sign of grace---
Or he ruins us all with his hanging-face.
VIII.
Whom now is the bishop a-leering at?
I know a point where his text falls pat.
I'll tell him to-morrow, a word just now
Went to my heart and made me vow
I meddle no more with the worst of trades---
Let somebody else pay his serenades.
IX.
Groan all together now, whee-hee-hee!
It's a-work, it's a-work, ah, woe is me!
It began, when a herd of us, picked and placed,
Were spurred through the Corso, stripped to the waist;
Jew brutes, with sweat and blood well spent
To usher in worthily Christian Lent.
X.
It grew, when the hangman entered our bounds,
Yelled, pricked us out to his church like hounds:
It got to a pitch, when the hand indeed
Which gutted my purse would throttle my creed:
And it overflows when, to even the odd,
Men I helped to their sins help me to their God.
XI.
But now, while the scapegoats leave our flock,
And the rest sit silent and count the clock,
Since forced to muse the appointed time
On these precious facts and truths sublime,---
Let us fitly ennploy it, under our breath,
In saying Ben Ezra's Song of Death.
XII.
For Rabbi Ben Ezra, the night he died,
Called sons and sons' sons to his side,
And spoke, ``This world has been harsh and strange;
``Something is wrong: there needeth a change.
``But what, or where? at the last or first?
``In one point only we sinned, at worst.
XIII.
``The Lord will have mercy on Jacob yet,
``And again in his border see Israel set.
``When Judah beholds Jerusalem,
``The stranger-seed shall be joined to them:
``To Jacob's House shall the Gentiles cleave.
``So the Prophet saith and his sons believe.
XIV.
``Ay, the children of the chosen race
``Shall carry and bring them to their place:
``In the land of the Lord shall lead the same,
``Bondsmen and handmaids. Who shall blame,
``When the slaves enslave, the oppressed ones o'er
``The oppressor triumph for evermore?
XV.
``God spoke, and gave us the word to keep,
``Bade never fold the hands nor sleep
``'Mid a faithless world,---at watch and ward,
``Till Christ at the end relieve our guard.
``By His servant Moses the watch was set:
``Though near upon cock-crow, we keep it yet.
XVI.
``Thou! if thou wast He, who at mid-watch came,
``By the starlight, naming a dubious name!
``And if, too heavy with sleep---too rash
``With fear---O Thou, if that martyr-gash
``Fell on Thee coming to take thine own,
``And we gave the Cross, when we owed the Throne---
XVII.
``Thou art the Judge. We are bruised thus.
``But, the Judgment over, join sides with us!
``Thine too is the cause! and not more thine
``Than ours, is the work of these dogs and swine,
``Whose life laughs through and spits at their creed!
``Who maintain Thee in word, and defy Thee in deed!
XVIII.
``We withstood Christ then? Be mindful how
``At least we withstand Barabbas now!
``Was our outrage sore? But the worst we spared,
``To have called these---Christians, had we dared!
``Let defiance to them pay mistrust of Thee,
``And Rome make amends for Calvary!
XIX.
``By the torture, prolonged from age to age,
``By the infamy, Israel's heritage,
``By the Ghetto's plague, by the garb's disgrace,
``By the badge of shame, by the felon's place,
``By the branding-tool, the bloody whip,
``And the summons to Christian fellowship,---
XX.
``We boast our proof that at least the Jew
``Would wrest Christ's name from the Devil's crew.
``Thy face took never so deep a shade
``But we fought them in it, God our aid!
``A trophy to bear, as we marchs, thy band,
``South, East, and on to the Pleasant Land!''
[_Pope Gregory XVI. abolished this bad
business of the Sermon._---R. B.]
|
Written by
Isaac Watts |
Abraham's blessing on the Gentiles.
Rom. 11:16,17.
Gentiles by nature, we belong
To the wild olive wood;
Grace took us from the barren tree,
And grafts us in the good.
With the same blessings grace endows
The Gentile and the Jew;
If pure and holy be the root,
Such are the branches too.
Then let the children of the saints
Be dedicate to God,
Pour out thy Spirit on them, Lord,
And wash them in thy blood.
Thus to the parents and their seed
Shall thy salvation come,
And num'rous households meet at last
In one eternal home.
|
Written by
Robert Pinsky |
Some of us believe
We would have conceived romantic
Love out of our own passions
With no precedents,
Without songs and poetry--
Or have invented poetry and music
As a comb of cells for the honey.
Shaped by ignorance,
A succession of new worlds,
Congruities improvised by
Immigrants or children.
I once thought most people were Italian,
Jewish or Colored.
To be white and called
Something like Ed Ford
Seemed aristocratic,
A rare distinction.
Possibly I believed only gentiles
And blonds could be left-handed.
Already famous
After one year in the majors,
Whitey Ford was drafted by the Army
To play ball in the flannels
Of the Signal Corps, stationed
In Long Branch, New Jersey.
A night game, the silver potion
Of the lights, his pink skin
Shining like a burn.
Never a player
I liked or hated: a Yankee,
A mere success.
But white the chalked-off lines
In the grass, white and green
The immaculate uniform,
And white the unpigmented
Halo of his hair
When he shifted his cap:
So ordinary and distinct,
So close up, that I felt
As if I could have made him up,
Imagined him as I imagined
The ball, a scintilla
High in the black backdrop
Of the sky. Tight red stitches.
Rawlings. The bleached
Horsehide white: the color
Of nothing. Color of the past
And of the future, of the movie screen
At rest and of blank paper.
"I could have." The mind. The black
Backdrop, the white
Fly picked out by the towering
Lights. A few years later
On a blanket in the grass
By the same river
A girl and I came into
Being together
To the faint muttering
Of unthinkable
Troubadours and radios.
The emerald
Theater, the night.
Another time,
I devised a left-hander
Even more gifted
Than Whitey Ford: A Dodger.
People were amazed by him.
Once, when he was young,
He refused to pitch on Yom Kippur.
|
Written by
Isaac Watts |
God's wonders of creation, providence, redemption, and salvation.
Give to our God immortal praise;
Mercy and truth are all his ways:
Wonders of grace to God belong,
Repeat his mercies in your song.
Give to the Lord of lords renown,
The King of kings with glory crown:
His mercies ever shall endure,
When lords and kings are known no more.
He built the earth, he spread the sky,
And fixed the starry lights on high:
Wonders of grace to God belong,
Repeat his mercies in your song.
He fills the sun with morning light;
He bids the moon direct the night:
His mercies ever shall endure,
When suns and moons shall shine no more.
The Jews he freed from Pharaoh's hand,
And brought them to the promised land
Wonders of grace to God belong,
Repeat his mercies in your song.
He saw the Gentiles dead in sin,
And felt his pity work within
His mercies ever shall endure,
When death and sin shall reign no more.
He sent his Son with power to save
From guilt, and darkness, and the grave
Wonders of grace to God belong,
Repeat his mercies in your song.
Through this vain world he guides our feet,
And leads us to his heav'nly seat
His mercies ever shall endure,
When this vain world shall be no more.
|
Written by
Isaac Watts |
God's conduct of Israel, and the plagues of Egypt.
Give thanks to God, invoke his name,
And tell the world his grace;
Sound through the earth his deeds of fame,
That all may seek his face.
His cov'nant, which he kept in mind
For num'rous ages past,
To num'rous ages yet behind
In equal force shall last.
He sware to Abraham and his seed,
And made the blessing sure;
Gentiles the ancient promise read,
And find his truth endure.
"Thy seed shall make all nations blest,"
(Said the Almighty voice,)
"And Canaan's land shall be their rest,
The type of heav'nly joys."
[How large the grant! how rich the grace,
To give them Canaan's land,
When they were strangers in the place,
A little feeble band!
Like pilgrims through the countries round
Securely they removed;
And haughty kings that on them frowned
Severely he reproved.
"Touch mine anointed, and my arm
Shall soon revenge the wrong:
The man that does my prophets harm,
Shall know their God is strong."
Then let the world forbear its rage,
Nor put the church in fear;
Isr'el must live through every age,
And be th' Almighty's care.]
PAUSE I.
When Pharaoh dared to vex the saints,
And thus provoked their God,
Moses was sent at their complaints,
Armed with his dreadful rod.
He called for darkness; darkness came
Like an o'erwhelming flood;
He turned each lake and every stream
To lakes and streams of blood.
He gave the sign, and noisome flies
Through the whole country spread;
And frogs in croaking armies rise
About the monarch's bed.
Through fields, and towns, and palaces,
The tenfold vengeance flew;
Locusts in swarms devoured their trees,
And hail their cattle slew.
Then by an angel's midnight stroke
The flower of Egypt died;
The strength of every house was broke,
Their glory and their pride.
Now let the world forbear its rage,
Nor put the church in fear;
Isr'el must live through every age,
And be th' Almighty's care.
PAUSE II.
Thus were the tribes from bondage brought,
And left the hated ground;
Each some Egyptian spoils had got,
And not one feeble found.
The Lord himself chose out their way,
And marked their journeys right;
Gave them a leading cloud by day,
A fiery guide by night.
They thirst, and waters from the rock
In rich abundance flow;
And following still the course they took,
Ran all the desert through.
O wondrous stream! O blessed type
Of ever-flowing grace!
So Christ, our Rock, maintains our life
Through all this wilderness.
Thus guarded by th' Almighty hand,
The chosen tribes possessed
Canaan, the rich, the promised land,
And there enjoyed their rest.
Then let the world forbear its rage,
The church renounce her fear;
Isr'el must live through every age,
And be th' Almighty's care.
|
Written by
John Milton |
Done Aug. 8. 1653. Terzetti.
Why do the Gentiles tumult, and the Nations
Muse a vain thing, the Kings of th'earth upstand
With power, and Princes in their Congregations
Lay deep their plots together through each Land,
Against the Lord and his Messiah dear.
Let us break off; say they, by strength of hand
Their bonds, and cast from us, no more to wear,
Their twisted cords: he who in Heaven doth dwell
Shall laugh, the Lord shall scoff them, then severe
Speak to them in his wrath, and in his fell
And fierce ire trouble them; but I saith hee
Anointed have my King (though ye rebell)
On Sion my holi' hill. A firm decree
I will declare; the Lord to me hath say'd
Thou art my Son I have begotten thee
This day, ask of me, and the grant is made;
As thy possession I on thee bestow
Th'Heathen, and as thy conquest to be sway'd
Earths utmost bounds: them shalt thou bring full low
With Iron Sceptir bruis'd, and them disperse
Like to a potters vessel shiver'd so.
And now be wise at length ye Kings averse
Be taught ye Judges of the earth; with fear
Jehovah serve and let your joy converse
With trembling; Kiss the Son least he appear
In anger and ye perish in the way
If once his wrath take fire like fuel sere.
Happy all those who have in him their stay.
|
Written by
Isaac Watts |
Christ's kingdom among the Gentiles.
Jesus shall reign where'er the sun
Does his successive journeys run;
His kingdom stretch from shore to shore,
Till moons shall wax and wane no more.
[Behold the islands with their kings,
And Europe her best tribute brings;
From north to south the princes meet,
To pay their homage at his feet.
There Persia, glorious to behold,
There India shines in eastern gold;
And barb'rous nations at his word
Submit, and bow, and own their Lord.]
For him shall endless prayer be made,
And praises throng to crown his head;
His name like sweet perfume shall rise
With every morning sacrifice.
People and realms of every tongue
Dwell on his love with sweetest song;
And infant voices shall proclaim
Their early blessings on his name.
Blessings abound where'er he reigns,
The pris'ner leaps to lose his chains;
The weary find eternal rest,
And all the sons of want are blest.
[Where he displays his healing power
Death and the curse are known no more;
In him the tribes of Adam boast
More blessings than their father lost.
Let every creature rise and bring
Peculiar honors to our King;
Angels descend with songs again,
And earth repeat the long Amen.]
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