In the holy of holies

The boy from the hearth

Has already drunk the juice

From her sacred poppies.

He is not afraid

As he is swung through the fire

That can be seen from miles away.

When the swing returns,

On it is a black ram.

On its fleece the initiates

Will stand next year

As they take their oaths.


As he raises the knife,

Abraham is not afraid.

He already knows

The still, small voice

Will speak again.

"The piece has a small typo: _milsch_ should have been _milch_."

How Hilkiah and Ezra Created Judaism
"Well said, Aidan, well said!"

I Protest
"Personally, I would never be arrogant enough to presume that the Gods share my political ..."

I Protest
"Are you still living in Paris, Texas? My Hebrew Fellowship (Beit Elohiim) rented a building ..."

The Jewish Cemetery in Paris, Texas

Browse Our Archives

What Are Your Thoughts?leave a comment