20 Friday, October 29, 1982
THE DETROIT JEWISH NEWS
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Jerusalem - Battered Bride of Israel
By MAURICE CROLL, M.D.
Still the city of hope.
Somewhere the grass may
Greener grow.
The birds, in peace, so brave
Still sing
A sweet Ulysses song
Of eternal hope,
With enchanting notes so
Clear and lyrical.
To captivate your very soul
And round your heart
These notes will flow,
Unending, to capture your
Heart and nourish it complete.
In Jerusalem, city of eternal
Hope,
Capital of Israel's future,
the grass does greener grow
In the beloved city that
King David built.
The most glorious days
Of freedom.
As a warrior general,
He conquered wisely.
A patient, forgiving, leader
With the sweet pure heart
Of a sensitive poet.
As a gifted leader he
Brought the holy, revered
Ark
Into his city, Jerusalem;
Established a solid groundwork
For the religious concept of
One Almighty God.
There was dancing in the street,
And King David led them all.
He was a singer of songs
Meaningful,
And he played sweet music
On his harp.
If he had written only the
Twenty-third Psalm — even today —
And nothing else,
It would have been enough to be
Immortal.
Even to this day his precepts
Still hold and are worshipped
-
By the Jews the world over.
He lives eternal in our hearts.
Alas, our own King David
Was a man — lusty, full
Blooded man —
And, alas, King David did sin
He then looked squarely at himself
In a most revealing mirror,
And he anguished continually
All his remaining, tortured days.
In acute anguish, he atoned.
He knew that for every sin
There is an equal and opposite
Moral reaction,
Even for beloved kings.
Eventually he composed
And wrote "The Tillyim,"
A monumental, living epic
Of poetic prose.
King Solomon, the wise, followed.
In the glory days of Israel,
Solomon built the first temple
And anchored for all times
The Israelis to their hallowed
Capital.
To them, the center of the
Universe —
The central, geographic base
0 their religion — Supreme
In their longing — to stand
Before the western (Wailing) wall
And pray
At the remains of Solomon's temple,
A rallying haven
For all the Jews.
Jerusalem and her peoples
Had sinned against God
In a most inglorious pagan way,
Against the laws God had prescribed.
Now Jerusalem was in a period
Of God's wrath.
Her holocausts had begun.
The hosts of war and
Destruction now plagued
This most beloved city.
.
From then until the present era
Jerusalem knew the hosts
Of 36 wars — of her enemies.
From Babylon, Persia, Seleucids,
Maccabees, Romans, Christian
Conquerors, Hadrian, Byzantine,
Moslem, Crusaders
1948 - A divided city
1967 - Six-day War, Jerusalem reunited.
Seventeen times glorious Jerusalem
Was stricken and cinderized,
Right down to bare ground.
Yet, each time it was destined
To be rebuilt.
The spirit of Jerusalem
Is the prime rallying point
For all the Jews of the world.
Jerusalem — the Bride of Israel,
Birthplace of most religions.
Den mother with outstretched
Welcome hands
To all people of all religions,
Where true, meaningful religion
Still lives.
She is the chupa maid
With the broken glass.
Her happy marriage to
All the Jewish people,
Where'er they dwell,
Is forever,
It is the longest and most
Fervent love match of
All recorded time.
It exists — it is real — and
Grows more intense with
Each passing year.
But
Israel has sinned and
The holocaust episodes
Began to surface — to
Devastate and then disperse
The wandering Jews to the
Four corners of the earth.
In the meantime, Jerusalem
God sent down his wrath
Of fire.
The black clouds gathered
Overhead.
The path of prayers to God
Were blocked.
Jerusalem — her people lay groaning
In feeble tones.
Their neighboring enemies exulting
In sheer delight,
As they looked down on
A broken people without bread.
All their worldly cherishments,
Their sacred Torah desecrated and burned.
The daughters of Judah
Abused, degraded, misused.
The sons of Israel
Broken — in their bones,
Bodies ripped asunder,
Till the groans of utter
Despair
Could no longer be heard.
At night, when all is still,
Jerusalem, the widow torn,
Still weeps.
Bitter tears; unending, burning,
Till the waters overrun_
Their banks
And inundate this sacred land
With tears and flowing
Blood.
Are gathering with their armor,
Seeking out a Solomon-like sword
T,o divide
The Old and New Jerusalem.
A fatal stab right in
The heart of a tortured
People fighting valiantly
For their very existence.
Jerusalem is the western (Wailing) wall;
Jerusalem is the Ark with
Torah;
Jerusalem is the living hope;
The covenant home for all the Jews.
Jerusalem is the last and only
Port of call
Of all the stormy, violent seas
The Jews have lived thru.
Here in Jerusalem, a Mosque,
A church and a synagogue
Stand side by side in quiet
Harmony.
All their prayers, in different
Tongues,
Ascend, side by side, together
To the heavens above
In equal forte.
Oh Lord, look down upon
Your hapless people.
Is not 36 brutal invasions
Enough?
Is not cindreized Jerusalem
17 times, enough?
Be not enraged at my people.
Give them wisdom and understanding
To bring harmony to our people,
With Arabs and Christians,
In kindness, love, understanding
And prayer.
CREDITS:
The statistics (36 wars, 17 destructions of
Jerusalem) were taken from Jill and Leon Uris'
book on Jerusalem. It is an incredible historic
and photographic monument on Jerusalem.
In 1948 Israel was declared
A state,
A_fter another life and death
War,
Now recognized by the
United Nations.
Old Jeruslaem — The western wall —
Forbidden
To the Jews by Jordan.
Their synagogues destroyed.
The cemeteries and tombstones
Used for sidewalks and latrines,
And the worshipped symbol of prayer,
The sacred western wall, besmirched.
My favorite prophets are Isaiah and Jeremiah.
Parts of this poem were inspired by the lamen-
tations of Jeremiah, written in the days of the
prophets, yet pertains to the actual conditions
existing today in Jerusalem and Israel.
The world looked on.
No voice was raised in protest.
Isaiah, my favorite prophet, was reviewed in its
entirety.
Only after the Six-Day War of 1967
Israelis captured Old Jerusalem
And, uniting it with New Jerusalem,
Made it whole again,
Now a free city — open
With welcome to all the religions.
Western wall (Wailing Wall). The modern
nomenclature today is western. All my life to
me, it was the wailing wall. In my book, Adven-
tures in Poetic Prose, I have written a poem
called "The Wall of Bitter Tears."
Once again the forces of evil
All around the tiny state of Israel
Jewish News: Four lines were taken from an
editorial by Philip Slomovitz,
Editor.
No poem on Jerusalem could ever be complete
without paying tribute to Teddy Kollek, Mayor
of Jerusalem. However, that is another story all
by itself. A most remarkable man, a doer of so
many marvelous things.