Ladder of Angels
llana Kurshan
Jacob rarely slept straight through the night
He often woke with vivid, startling dreams.
His mother would come running to his tent
Awoken by his tremors and his screams.
But then he left and set out for Haran.
With neither tent to pitch nor mother near.
Alone at night he slept beneath the stars
Enveloped in the darkness, and his fear.
A mild man who stayed inside his tent,
As he was known, now Jacob felt the chill
Of outdoor air, and vast wide open space.
And—gasp—a wind. The night was hardly still.
The wind of angels beating wings atop
A ladder to the dark skies, up and down
Ascend, descend. For God is in this place
The heavens linked to firm and solid ground.
“I’m here with you,” said God. “And I will be,
Alongside when you head back on your way.”
Then Jacob woke, becalmed, his rest assured,
He knew now something new. And so he prayed.
We all are Jacob, sleeping through our lives
We’re swept up in time’s tide, its rise and fall
We think: That’s just a ladder, just the sky.
For most it happens rarely, if at all:
We wake up, stunned, bestirred -- For God is here!
Life takes us far, but God is always near.
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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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