"At Yad Vashem"

 I STAND WITH ISRAEL

Pro-Israel Rally in Washington DC,

Tuesday, November 14th, 2023

Janusz Korczak Memorial

Yad Vashem, Jerusalem

AT YAD VASHEM

Israel Pilgrimage--2006

 

We are given an hour, only an hour

to walk through on our own—

 

It’s quiet

Barely any talking

No smiling

 

People move slowly

observing, listening

some brush away tears

some shake their heads

 

We walk along the Path

of Righteous Gentiles

hesitate at trees

planted in honor

of Oscar Schindler

of Corrie TenBoom

 

We see shoes of the dead, eyeglasses

photographs, paintings

poems

 

The eternal flame shudders

as we swallow hard at the words:

Never Again

 

Outside, we pause at the bronze

of Yanus Korchek embracing

the orphan children—

the ones he accompanied

into a crematorium

 

At the Children’s Memorial

the darkness is assuaged

by so many mirrored reflections

of flickering candles

We read—

1,500,000 children

 

An hour, only an hour

is even too much

for us to bear

 

Maude Carolan Pych

"Pray for the peace of Jerusalem:

They shall prosper that love thee."

Psalm 122:6

"I'm Not Jewish"

 

I’M NOT JEWISH

 

except that the sap

which rises

from sturdy old olive roots

flows through the veins

of this grafted branch

 

I’m not Jewish

except for my flesh

which still shudders

at the Shoah

 (of sisters and brothers

of the natural branch)

and the same root

and swears

I’d have done something...

something

 

I’m not Jewish

except for my feet

which have walked

the holy, well-worn pathways

in Eretz Yisrael

 

except for my fingertips

which pressed petitions

between stones

of the Western Wall

 

except for my ears

which perk to the cantor’s

chanting of the Shema

the Aaronic Benediction

the Kiddush

over bread and wine

 

except for my eyes

which look

upon the Lamb,

my Atonement

 

except for my lips

which chant

ancient baruchas

to HaShem

 

I’m not Jewish

except for my heart

which bears the cloven mark

of circumcision

 

and loves Yeshua,

the Jewish Messiah

Who was pierced

for my transgressions

Who shed

His precious Jewish Blood

by for me

 

Maude Carolan

"Behold the Lamb...poetically!

by Maude Carolan Pych

is available online

at Amazon, Barnes & Noble, CBD, etc.

www.maudecarolanpych.net

"This Old Bible"

 Here's an "oldie but goody" for you...

THIS OLD BIBLE

 

It’s not one of those expensive

gold edged, leather bound volumes.

Its margins are filled

with scrawled notations

gleaned from personal revelations

and years of teaching

under Jonathan and Wayne.

There are yellow highlights,

asterisks, exclamation points, arrows,

underlines, sometimes double underlines,

sometimes double underlines in red ink.

There are little line drawings, dates,

Hebrew, Greek and Aramaic

transliterations, translations,

prayers copied on blank pages in front,

prayer cards tucked in its pages,

bookmarks, tracts,

a few notes and letters.

Its pages have lost their brightness

from handling and caressing,

they’ve absorbed tears,

illuminated joys.

There are jagged pen slips

from dozing,

many index labels have fallen off.

Its spine has been repaired

again and again.

It doesn’t look like anybody’s treasure.

 

When I pass on,

there might be a little money,

property, some poems.

There might be a few pieces

of inexpensive jewelry.

You’ll rummage through

the way we did when Grandpa died,

when lots of things were thrown in dumpsters,

lots of things were divided up and given away.

You may be tempted to toss this book,

but, no, no, I know you’ll know

this old battered Bible

is the most valuable possession

I’ll leave behind.

 

Maude Carolan              

Here I am, at the Totowa (NJ) Library,

reading from my book of poems

about the Birth, Death & Resurrection of Jesus...

"Behold the Lamb...poetically!"

by Maude Carolan Pych

is available online at Amazon, Barnes & Noble, CBD, etc.

www.maudecarolanpych.net
 

 

A Gentle Autumn Poem...

 After weeks of agonizing over the turmoil in the Middle East,

here in America and throughout the world,

I figure we can all use a break...perhaps a walk in the woods

or at least one gentle autumn poem

about a walk in the woods...

Photo credit: Pinterest.com

SYMPHONY OF THE WOODS

I meander through woods

along a beaten pathway in North Jersey

and the music begins immediately

 

There’s chittering of crickets

and the cacophony of other insects

that are hanging on to life

until the frost, which will come soon

Leaves rustle in the trees

some whoosh past me

as they fall to the ground

and there’s a crunch

of dry ones beneath my feet

 

I hear an occasional snap of a twig

and the scamper of squirrels

or chipmunks, a raccoon

or field mice scurrying unseen

up and down tree trunks

or frolicking in the dense brush

 

There may be hidden deer or a bear

Some sounds I cannot identify

 

Birdsong completely fills the air

all kinds of birdsong—

chirps and coos

and warbles and squawks

I even hear the flutter

of wing flaps

 

Tying everything together

is the faintest whistling in the breeze

that feels something like tinnitus

ringing in my ears

but it’s not unpleasant

 

All the sounds blend together

into Nature’s symphony—

a serenade to my spirit

as I stroll

 

Maude Carolan Pych

Here are two of Maude's books of poetry:

"Wonderhoods," a memoir

"Behold the Lamb...poetically!"

The latter is available at Amazon, Barnes & Noble, CBD, etc.

www.maudecarolanpych.net

"I Read Anne's Diary"

 It's been a tough week of weeping, praying, fasting, and worrying about people we know who were trying to get transportation home from Israel, and spending too many hours glued to our radios and televisions, listening for the latest news updates.

The first draft of today's poem, "I Read Anne's Diary" was written, Thursday afternoon, during a Zoom poetry workshop led by Maria Mazziotti Gillan. Here's the finished product, following a few revisions and tweaks...

Anne Frank

"The Diary of a Young Girl"

I READ ANNE’S DIARY

Terrorist attack on Israel, October 7, 2023

 

I was a teenager

when I read Anne Frank’s diary

for the first time

and clearly recall the young Jewish girl

(who was hiding in an attic

with her family, during the Holocaust)

writing that she believed

people were basically good at heart—

 

Eventually her family was captured by the Nazis

Anne was sent to Auschwitz, then Bergen-Belsen

where she died during the typhus epidemic

 

That was many, many years ago

but her words are still with me—

 

especially this week

when after planning their moves

for two years, Hamas

launched a brutal terrorist attack

on the Israel I love

 

They took hostages, bombed, murdered—

not just murdered, slaughtered

in the most horrifying ways imaginable

men, women, children, babies

 

so I think of Anne again and Israelis

think of evil that is in the world

I weep and fast and pray

and worry about people I know

who are in Israel trying to get home

 

Bombing on both sides will get worse

 

Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu

says no Hamas member

will be left alive

 

I believe God is in control—

 

I wish I could believe

people are basically good at heart

 

Maude Carolan Pych

"Behold the Lamb...poetically!"

by Maude Carolan Pych

is available online

at Amazon, Barnes & Noble, CBD, etc.

www.maudecarolanpych.net

Israel Attacked

Thinking about the attack by Hamas on Israel, Saturday, I went into my files and pulled out a poem written about a visit to the Armory at Latrun during my 2006 pilgrimage to Israel. The photo below is of an Israeli soldier at the Wall of Names Memorial of fallen soldiers.

AT THE ARMORY ON THE SABBATH DAY

Latrun, Israel—2006

 

We visit the Museum of the Armory in Latrun

observe Merkava Tanks, the best in the world

solid and serious—

built to encase Israeli soldiers

in a womb of steel

built to show the enemy who’s boss

 

and we see names, row after row of names

etched on a long dark wall

exactly 4,498 of them—

the names of soldiers, mostly young

killed in Israel’s wars

 

Our guide points to one, newly engraved

It is his friend, Oz

who died a few months ago

Oz, who fought at his side

in the war against Hezbollah and Lebanon

the war we watched on our American TVs in June

 

I talk with three young soldiers holding M15s

ask if I may photograph them

They politely decline—

It is the Sabbath

 

One of them

has carefully knotted tzitzit[1]

protruding from his olive drabs

 

Maude Carolan Pych

---

[1] Tzitzit are the specially knotted fringes, attached to the four corners of the tallit (prayer shawl), worn by observant Jews.

"Pray for the peace of Jerusalem: they shall prosper that love thee."

                                                               Psalm 122:6 KJV

"Behold the Lamb...poetically!"

by Maude Carolan Pych

is available online at Amazon, Barnes & Noble, CBD, etc.

maudecarolanpych.net

"Frankie's Dance"

 The poem I'm sharing with you this week was written several years ago and is in memory of a man who was a member of my congregation. His name is Frank Schiavo Jr. He was born with cerebral palsy and confined to a wheelchair. Frank yearned to be free. A health care worker shared the Gospel and love of Jesus with him. Frank received the Lord into his heart, was born again, and received a wonderful freedom he had never known before. This poem was originally published in "Sensations" magazine. A framed copy hung over his bed. When he went to be with the Lord in 1998, his mother told me that Frankie loved this poem. "Frankie's Dance" is being featured at Beth Israel Worship Center, Wayne, NJ, during the month of October.

FRANKIE’S DANCE

In memory of Frank Schiavo, Jr.

 

In a circle

in the corner

of the sanctuary

the dancers

lifted arms and faces,

bowed reverently, rose,

offering gifts of praise to God.

Tintinnabulating timbrels

and tambourines,

their satin ribbons streaming,

swirled with shirts and skirts,

a kaleidoscopic rainbow.

Ineffable ecstasy

shone in countenances,

sparkled in dark, dancing eyes.

 

Parked at a row end

in the congregation,

Frankie sat

strapped securely

in his wheelchair,

worshipping,

his spirit whirling

in the dance.

Joy softened his face

into enthralled expressions

as praise

flowed fluently

from upturned lips.

 

Suddenly,

perceiving the desire

written in his radiance,

a young man whisked

Frankie’s wheelchair

into the dance.

Circling, circling,

spinning, spinning,

wheeling worshipfully,

spiritually spiraling

upward, Heavenward,

an Elijah in a chariot

driven by horses,

their manes ablaze,

Frankie danced

his holy dance

before the Ever-Living God.

 

Maude Carolan

"Behold the Lamb...poetically!"

by Maude Carolan Pych

is available online

at Amazon, Barnes & Noble, CBD, etc.

www.maudecarolanpych.net