Letting go of Raziel

Once upon a time  
To save her son

A mother sent her baby down a river
Under the watchful eye of a careful protector

And another woman bathed in that river
A woman of great wealth and power
And she reached out her arm to catch the floating basket

As the baby’s protector watched patiently along the shore

And the baby was aglow
His eyes brilliant and his demeanor calm
As if he held within all the secrets of the universe 

And the protector offered an adoption plan
And the birthmother offered life and a baby
To the rich and powerful woman

And the rich and powerful woman took the baby into her heart and raised him as her own

And the boy grew up and saw the oppression, the institutionalized slavery, the pain of the people who were his and not his
And he was no longer safe in the home and family he had known and loved 

So he went off to the wilderness
To the bitterness of exile
To an untethered and lonely place

And it was in that place that he saw what others could not
The bush that was not consumed by the flames
The voice from deep within that awakened him to purpose
And he became the redeemer

גואל ישראל

And the mothers and protectors stood along the banks of the river
Weeping for the bitterness of his lost innocence
And for the harshness he endured to arrive at this place

And they wept for their own hearts
And longed for that sweet infant and how he cooed and smiled and spoke his secrets into their souls

And they wept for this world and its agony
For those who could not be saved
For all of the babies whose lives ended by the waters who gave this one a new life

And they smiled through their tears
As they released their son with pride

Because winter gives way to spring
And slavery challenged brings a freedom that being born free could never have provided

Because their loss, our loss, allows for the heralding of a new age
An age of peace and compassion
An age of awareness of our systems of oppression 
And our stories are the tools that will dismantle the master’s house

With eyes red and puffy from crying, they picked up their stories and walked into the battle

Together.



-Rabbi Nehama Benmosche, Pesach 5778

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