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Grasp Hold of Time
Ilana Kurshan
Time passes quickly when we do not stop
To mark some days as different and unique
We lose track of our hours and our days
And next we know, it’s been another week.
So God says: Stop! Take note! Not every day
Is just another workday. You must rest
The seventh day is sacred unto Me.
The Sabbath. It is sanctified and blessed.
Six days precede each Sabbath. Week by week,
The year unfolds. But not each week’s the same—
Each spring, recall how time began anew
When out of Egypt’s bondage we all came.
Count seven weeks from Passover and eat
No new bread or parched grain until you bring
A sacrifice. First fruits to celebrate
The source of all our bounty, fall to spring.
At summer’s end, more sacred days arrive
The seventh month comes ‘round with shofar blasts
The first day is a sacred day of rest.
The tenth day – self-denial. Full-day fast.
And when the moon is full that month, depart
Your home and live inside a booth instead
Take palm and citron, celebrate, and pray
This harvest might sustain in months ahead.
Said God to Moses: Do not let time fly
Grasp hold and mark these days ere they pass by.
*
The Talmud teaches that the Torah was given in black fire on white fire (Y. Shekalim 6:1). The black fire is the letters of the Torah scroll, and the white fire is the parchment background. In this column, consisting of a poem on each parashah, I will try to illuminate the white fire of Torah – the midrashim, stories, and interpretations that carve out the negative space of the letters and give them shape.
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