Musings from Students of the Pardes Institute of Jewish Studies in Jerusalem
Posted on January 6, 2014 by Benjamin Friedman
Drowsy in my
Wooden womb
I hide myself
Inside this room
As Ocean wishes to
Consume me–
Here I’ll lie, nursing contumely
Oh–
How they crash upon my ears!
These waves of shouts and flood of tears!
These heathen sailors crying out–
I’ll plug my ears, and drown them out!
For I am– Jonah!
Prophet GREAT
Fallen in this..
This…lowly state…
On this ship…
Of reprobates…with…
Idolaters…
As my shipmates…
Oh–
Why would God wish this
My fate…?
To make me flee from His
Own State?
From Promised Land
To Sheol’s gate–
I know not.
I know not.
I know…
Not. No–
WAIT!
Perhaps this…
Is…
Hashem’s…
Mistake…?
Perhaps He sleeps…
And I’m awake…?!
Perhaps this prophecy…
Was fake…?
No surely not!
No surely not!
My heart would break…
My mind would balk
At such godless heathen
Talk
For I
Am born
From truthful stock!
Not flagrant false like
Men of the…
More wicked lands…
Like…
Nineveh.
No, surely this
Is God’s true test:
For me to prove that Israel’s best
By keeping pure from all the rest
By forging stone within my breast
Not preaching East–
But fleeing West.
Lo–
Even though He told me “Go!”
He surely wished that I’d say–
“No!”
He’ll praise me for my moral show (I’m sure)–
They’ll write a book on me–
I know…
So…
Why…then does
This Ocean rage?
Locking me inside this cage?
Is this just like Noah’s age?
With this boat, Ark–
For Jonah, Sage?
And–
Why do I feel so numb within…?
With such coldness deeply, rushing in
Creeping up like depression
Causing all my thought to spin…
I must now sleep, or risk I sin–
Oh let me sleep!
Let dreams begin…
Yet–
Trickling–
Salty–
Drops–
Drip–
Down
I
Listen
To
Their
Rhyth-
mic
Sound
Focus
On
Them
Looking
Down
Pretending floor below
Is ground.
Israelite.
Ground.
(Safe.
And.
Sound.)
But–
Sleep I can’t!
Sleep I can’t!
For–
Sneaking through the cedar boards
Straining through the leaking floor
Is that blood-tinged ocean–
ROAR
Spinning me like–
Mismatched oars
The crying of these fools aboard!
The crying of these fools aboard!
Praying to their heathen lords!
Praying to their heathen lords!
Praying to…their heathen lords…
I plug my ears to hear no more
These heathen souls–
I will ignore
I will…
Ignore…
I…
Will…
Ignore…
I mean–
I mean–
I mean–
REALLY
Why should I
Wet my eye–
For such slaves to such
Idol-o-try?!
When I know only these are good:
Land and Nation.
Law and Blood.
When I know only my faith’s best…
How could I not fly but West?
When God’s set up such unfair tests?
And…
NOW…
I…
Hear…
A sound like–
THUNDER
Pulling me yet deeper under
A knocking on my cabin door!
A KNOCKING on my cabin door!
I feign to sleep, I deign to snore
As door–
BURSTS OPEN
MY HEART ROARS
And–
There he stands
And–
THERE HE STANDS
The pagan captain
That unclean man
In boots and caftan
I see no man…
I see no man…
But–
The Living God’s demand!
The Living God’s demand!
To travel to … that foreign land!
(No, no, no, no, no, please, please, no…)
Now as His conduit, he cries to me:
“Son of Man, what do I see!?
How can you sleep so far a-sea??
What foolish dreaming, cuffs your hands?
In this place so far from land?
What freezes you in spiral downward
Are you godless, or a coward?
Oh Son of Man! Oh Son of Man!
Do Stand up now! Ye Son of Man!
Life’s at stake…
You understand…
ARE YOU NOT AWAKE?!
ARE YOU NOT AWAKE?!
ARE YOU NOT AWAKE?!
Must your body, soul, I shake and shake?!”
And–
I stared and I stared
And
Then I stared some
More–
Dull eyed and drowsy
And just a bit…
Bored
And as I now staggered to
My feet
Shrugging at this new ignominious
Defeat
I wondered, asunder–
If again I had blundered
And I asked myself:
Has Chosenness lost its luster?
And Wisdom…
Can I no longer trust her?
In a world in which such heathen hucksters
Warrant God’s own prophets…
Mustered?
Oh–
Some might…
I know…
Still some day imply:
That I, Jonah,
(Son of Ammitai)
Was simply too
Scared
To even
Try
But think on this:
That I’d have really
Rather
Died
This day
Than be a
Prophet for–
The idolaters of–
That heathen hell–
Called–
Nineveh.
