Wrapping the straps,
Binding,
Imprisoning the head and arm
(Never mind the boxes…
The parchment…
The creed…
The dogma inside…)
Now, only focus
On the violent binding
Of this arm,
Black leather straps,
On olive-skinned arm.
La nom-du-Pere
Father on the Dunera Ship
Confronted by Captain Smith
Tossing overboard these “inflammatory boxes”
With Hebrew destined for Nazi spies!
Into the Atlantic ocean,
As if,
These Hebrew inscribed parchment etched words
Were Coded messages to the Nazis:
But the very debris tossed over is picked up by a U boat captain
Ready to sink the Merchant Marine vessel
And, reading the German letters to parents and loved ones,
Thinking these stinking Jews are in fact German POW’s
“escorts” the vessel to Durban!
and “protects” it from enemy torpedoes.
A miracle my father exclaims.
“This…is your bible too!”
Dad courageously points to the parchment within
And Captain Smith is moved,
And allows him to retain his pair of T’fillin
Now sharing them with some 200 orthodox
“aliens” bound for Australia daily.
Back in London I watch him bind his straps with love
As he connects to this ritual as no other.
But for me,
This binding,
This black leather on daily skin,
This binding me to a crucifix
With black leather,
This ritual has become the litmus test
Of my faith.
As the years pass,
And my skepticism grows,
And the religion and fervor of my youth,
And my mid life turn to the rapture of Hassidut, wane
And my sober realization of my own decline,
And my preserving parents and in-laws in sickness,
And my disdain at the current culture of surface faith
Art-Scroll triteness,
Brain dead Orthodoxy,
This litmus test reveals the truth
The current “state of the union”
It, daily, alone, reveals the desolation within
As it mirrors my absent presence.
As it accuses me in absentia
As it alone “binds” me to my father’s faith
Sturdy at 94!
To this day!
Watching him bind it...in love.
How long?
You might ask
How long?
Before you relinquish
You surrender to the Litvak within
The skeptic,
The kritik,
The heretic?
Let it go!
Stop the hypocrisy!
Some voice shouts from within!
Inside is desolation
Inside is silence
Inside is the tzimtzum that is so deafening it crosses the universe!
I am alone
In my heretical insistence in binding these straps
For his sake.
Not Him.
