Friday Poem (0201)

i-014f8220fdad372c03cc7b1abcef6890-Abraham3Isaac.jpg

The Story of Isaac

The door it opened slowly,
My father he came in,was nine years old.
And he stood so tall above me,
His blue eyes they were shining
And his voice was very cold.
He said, Ive had a vision
And you know Im strong and holy,
I must do what Ive been told.
So he started up the mountain,
I was running, he was walking,
And his axe was made of gold.

Well, the trees they got much smaller,
The lake a ladys mirror,
We stopped to drink some wine.
Then he threw the bottle over.
Broke a minute later
And he put his hand on mine.
Thought I saw an eagle
But it might have been a vulture,
I never could decide.
Then my father built an altar,
He looked once behind his shoulder,
He knew I would not hide.

You who build these altars now
To sacrifice these children,
You must not do it anymore.
A scheme is not a vision
And you never have been tempted
By a demon or a god.
You who stand above them now,
Your hatchets blunt and bloody,
You were not there before,
When I lay upon a mountain
And my fathers hand was trembling
With the beauty of the word.

And if you call me brother now,
Forgive me if I inquire,
Just according to whose plan?
When it all comes down to dust
I will kill you if I must,
I will help you if I can.
When it all comes down to dust
I will help you if I must,
I will kill you if I can.
And mercy on our uniform,
Man of peace or man of war,
The peacock spreads his fan.

Leonard Cohen

I taught Genesis 22 yesterday in class. It is horrifying and disturbing piece- "Then he reached out and took the knife to slaughter his son."

Tags

More like this

Witches, stew, and a battle... A well-timed meme floated into ScienceBlogs over the weekend, asking what advice we might have for our 12-year-old selves. This began as John Lynch at Stranger Fruit borrowed the survey question from Fark.com. Soon, others began to respond, including Janet at…
I don't just get ranting hate mail. I also get conversion stories and invitations to believe. These are saddest and most pathetic emails of them all—you just want to weep for the credulity of the poor victim. True Good News. God is real. Jesus is Lord. I know God is real because he spoke and acted…
The Man He Killed by Thomas Hardy "Had he and I but met By some old ancient inn, We should have sat us down to wet Right many a nipperkin! "But ranged as infantry, And staring face to face, I shot at him as he at me, And killed him in his place. "I shot him dead because -- Because he was my foe,…
[Editor's Note: The following letter was read at the ceremony yesterday where the C. O.'s nephew was awarded the Eagle Scout badge. The C. O. himself never made it to Eagle, which is no surprise to us here at upper management. Hope he doesn't read this.] "Jacob, we have enjoyed watching you grow…

Wonderful poem, one to keep.

Here is a song from Ireland, a land where we have suffered from religion a bit more than most.

The Island (Paul Brady)

They say the skies of Lebanon are burning
Those mighty cedars bleeding in the heat
They're showing pictures on the television
Women and children dying in the street
And we're still at it in our own place
Still trying to reach the future through the past
Still trying to carve tomorrow from a tombstone...

But Hey! Don't listen to me!
This wasn't meant to be no sad song
We've heard too much of that before
Right now I only want to be here with you
Till the morning dew comes falling
I want to take you to the island
And trace your footprints in the sand
And in the evening when the sun goes down
We'll make love to the sound of the ocean

They're raising banners over by the markets
Whitewashing slogans on the shipyard walls
Witchdoctors praying for a mighty showdown
No way our holy flag is gonna fall
Up here we sacrifice our children
To feed the worn-out dreams of yesterday
And teach them dying will lead us into glory...

Now I know us plain folks don't see all the story
And I know this peace and love's just copping out
And I guess these young boys dying in the ditches
Is just what being free is all about
And how this twisted wreckage down on main street
Will bring us all together in the end
And we'll go marching down the road to freedom...
Freedom