It’s been a while since I’ve had enough clarity of thought to “think aloud” here regarding Israel. Preparations for Passover, and especially the effort to sort out an effective “reform” of my family’s Haggadah, stalled me somewhat. My inclusion of alternative passages suggested separately by Rabbis Arthur Waskow (Shalom Center) and Michael Lerner (Tikkun Magazine) prompted some very interesting conversations at table, but left me looking for something different.
It wasn’t long before I crossed paths with Carol Churchill’s Seven Jewish Children, published in response to Israel’s recent offensive in Gaza. My encounter with Churchill’ remarkable piece has given me much to work with, and numerous projects are now underway, in various stages of research and progress, and which will find their way here eventually. They have occupied me nearly entirely, with news of Israel’s internal difficulties and elections the backdrop for work.
It’s often difficult to know how, as a Reform Jew, a Diaspora Jew, to respond to Israel’s internal affairs. Obtaining reliable information and sound opinions is usually my first and principal response, and for these I always begin with the Magnes Zionist. Lately Shamai Leibowitz’s blog, Pursuing Justice has also inspired me – a human rights lawyer, Leibowitz’s most recent efforts to publicize the case of Ezra Nawi, jailed Iraqi Jewish human rights activist under prosecution for his opposition to the demolition of Palestinian homes.
So I’ve been stewing, and wondering what to say (again). And then I stumbled on the work of limbo (blog and on flickr). I think he’s from Tel Aviv. I wish I knew more. I’m speechless in the face of his work on the separation wall.
This Rains Smells of Memory:
in continuation of this storyline, or any storyline for that matter, we turn to become vulnerable to the times. these are the anytimes. the end of the world comes and goes, it seems, on a regular basis.
that said, this chapter, or episode functions as the embodiment of the signs of things to come- a telegram or bottle rocket from elsewhere, that in clumsy dialect is telling us that we must overcome.
the times are happening in real time.
the naturally inevitable dynamics of every fear, hope or premonition we could ever have.
and as we feel the times rising upwards like a flood, were standing here knee-deep with our fingers crossed while we hope-fully plea, “we’ll be after everything someday”.
this rain smells of memory. memories creating themselves in real time.
and so its written in the usual but eerily accurate headlines, its written all over our weary faces.
tattooed on our eyelids so when we sleep we are speaking dreams of elsewhere, and subtly and secretly confessing our desperate love for our busted surroundings, and anything or anyone inhabiting them;
and so in that same clumsy, but very eager dialect, we speak a born-again stutter, “the times wont save you, your embracing of them will.”
this exhibition holds nothing but a reflection of where we are now, and offers us nothing but the suggestion of adaptation and (re)adjustment to the current tides.
this is a binding burden, and we’re all in this together.
The Revolution Will Not Be Televised: a minor proof of human existence on a wall bearing so much of it
This is for the Heavy Hearts Knee-Deep in Worries: “haven been overcome by toungue-tied times, minor orchestras mend together the tune and in a clumsy accent play: ‘please believe'”)
I believe. I hope.