Eikev in Gaza

( written August 2014)

Eikev in Gaza
Deuteronomy 7:12–11:25

It might have been better if we had not been promised 
all that land of milk and honey, if there had been no
talk of mighty hands and outstretched arms. It might
have been that no one took those words so seriously,
“you shall consume all the peoples”. And yes, 
it’s true that mostly since those words were written
it’s been the peoples consuming us. I cannot claim
to speak for those who suffered in the Shoah,
who went to the land their holy book had promised
them to raise a new nation from the ashes of shtetls.
But how has that turned out, after all? We 
are still a stiff-necked people. The bombings go
both ways, everyone trying to consume everyone else,
but it’s the IDF that has the firepower. I no longer know
who to believe about what’s really happening,
or how much I should feel it’s even any of my business,
I who have never visited the only place in the world
I could become a citizen, I who have only
a few JNF trees planted in my name, from long ago,
when I was a child. They will be all grown up 
by now, those trees. I would like someday to go 
and find them. Yes, I am susceptible to the lure
of a homeland. Here and now I am comfortable,
as we once were in Morocco, in Iran, in Germany,
in Spain. But you could argue that we’ll always
be expelled, end up wandering the desert,
unless we have our promised land. I don’t know, 
I am expected to have an opinion and I am uninformed
and afraid. I don’t like this bombing of people who have nowhere
to run to. I don’t want to be the bad guy. I want to pick and choose --
not destroy and obliterate, but love the stranger. I don’t think
I believe that anyone is promised anything, ever. 
If grace is real, I can’t believe it comes to those who bomb.
I want the lion to lie down with the lamb. Do I sound too Christian now?
So be it. We are commanded to circumcise the foreskins of our hearts,
and that will always mean they break. Oh Promised Land,
you are breaking my heart.

-- Amy Isikoff Newell

notes: more on Eikev, more on the 2014 Gaza war, the Amy Writes Words post that goes along with this poem.