Sometime
in the wee hours of the morning a lunar
eclipse visible over most of North
America went full. Because of
atmospheric condition too complicated for me to explain even if I understood
them, it was predicted to be a Blood
Moon—the disk of the full moon turned red in the umbra of Earth. Depending on the exact conditions this
morning, it could have appeared anywhere from a bright red, to the darker
colors of old blood or pennies, or even almost black.
Traditionally,
lunar eclipses were viewed as omens and
portends by ancient cultures. Blood Moons were, as the name implies,
considered harbingers of catastrophe and death.
This
eclipse is also unusual in that it is the first of four such events over the
next two years, a rare cluster. More
astonishingly, this one falls on the First
Day of Passover, Pesach. Another
will fall next year on April 4, which will also be Pesach. The other two will come in the fall and coincide
with the Jewish harvest festival, Sukkot.
Such
a confabulation of events has the pulses of celestial conspiracy theorists pounding. John
Hagee, an Evangelical pastor has
hit pay dirt with a Christian best
seller, Four Blood Moons in which he claims the events predict God’s wrathful judgment on sinful America. You may have seen him, he was scheduled to be
all over the media, including the Today
Show this morning.
Of
course Astronomers pooh-pa all of
that. And I’m not buying what Hagee is
peddling. But as regular readers of this
blog or my poor verse might note, I am fond of contemplating possible meanings for
such instances of serendipity.
As
you probably remember Passover refers to a terrible night on which the Lord God visited death on the first
born sons of all Egypt in a last
brutal sign to Pharaoh to let his
slaves, the Jews, go to
freedom. The Lord told Moses to instruct his people to smear lambs blood on their door posts as a sign that their homes
should be passed over by this last and most awful of seven plagues. It worked.
Pharaoh released the Jews who picked up their belongings and followed
Moses. Of course the old king later
thought better of it and set out after the fugitives with his chariots and army. You know the rest of
the story. If not, consult Exodus
or Cecil B. DeMille.
The
Jews commemorate all of this in the Passover dinner, the Seder. The way the tale is
told is a celebration of liberation and
freedom not just of their ancient
ancestors, but of all people everywhere.
American slaves took heart
from the same story and sang about their quest for freedom in the same
light. It is an inspiring, up lifting
story.
But
it has always had a dark side, almost forgotten, glossed over, or muttered
under the breath—the fate of all of those Egyptian children. It is easy to do, especially if you envision
only the sons of Pharaoh and his court—a
just punishment for a king who had ordered the slaughter of Jewish babes
when he got wind of a rumor that a liberator
would be born among them. But death was
visited not just on the elite, but upon all Egypt and families of every class
and caste. And that sounds, to modern
ears, a bit harsh.
At
Seder meals Jews acknowledge this in singing Dayenu:
Verse 3:
If He had destroyed their idols,
and had not smitten their first-born
— Dayenu, it would have sufficed!
Verse 4:
If He had smitten their first-born,
and
had not given us their wealth
—
Dayenu, it would have sufficed!
All
of this got me wondering…do the lives of one set of innocents have to be the
price for the freedom and safety of another people? Are the babes and children of Dresden, Hiroshima, or some dusty
village on the Afghan frontier God’s
just collateral damage for our noble
freedom? Do Palestinian dead buy just safety for a people nearly exterminated
by others?
Uncomfortable
questions, and undoubtedly ones some would wish un-asked.
Buckle
up. I am about to commit sacrilege.
Blood
Moon/Egyptian Passover
April 15/2014
Was
there a Blood Moon
that
terrible night
long,
long ago?
Khonsu, Disk of
the Moon
was eaten,
turning the color
of old blood.
The wails of the
women
leapt from house to house,
hovel to tent,
it is said even to
the palaces themselves.
The curses of
the men
bearing the limp bodies
of their sons
into the dark air
damning the Moon
the Jews,
Pharaoh himself.
What quarrel between bondsmen,
the mighty and their Priests
belongs to them, not us.
We
are the farmers,
fishers of the River
and the seas,
the shepherds, the weavers,
the folk who cast pots,
the brewers of beer,
the molders of simple brick
from mud and dung,
the house slaves
and wet nurses,
the prostitutes…
What
care we for those palaces,
those temples,
those monuments,
those damnable tombs,
or
the slaves who build them!
No
Jews dug our wells,
laid course of simple brick
for our homes,
piled a single stone on stone
on our graves
to save our dead
from the jackals.
Yet
they called down on us
the frogs,
spoiled our grain
with locust,
stoned our kids and lambs
to death by hail,
our flesh that erupted
in festering boils.
And
now our very sons!
What harm did they do you,
you Jews?
If
your damn God
is so powerful
why did you not call him
to just wipe out Pharaoh,
the Priests,
the Generals
in their chariots,
and
all their minions
who have had their sandals
on our necks
since time began?
Such
a God would be
worth worshiping!
Your
freedom—and ours—
would be one!
—Patrick
Murfin
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