I was recently brought in to explain “Fiddler on the Roof” to a local school district with almost no Jews.  I told them about my family’s story, forced to leave Russia at the turn of the 20th Century to escape violence and oppression.  I told them about Ashirah’s family’s story, narrowly escaping the Nazis on the last boat out of Europe.  Anatevka, while fictional, was based on real stories, including from my own family.

More than this, the play is not only a Jewish story.  Millions of people of all faiths around the world are currently wandering homeless, country less, forced to leave everything they know, for an unknown future.  This is fundamentally a human story, just like the one we read in this week’s Torah portion, Beshalach, where our people huddled together to cross the sea into the wilderness.  In honor of Shabbat Shira, a Sabbath dedicated to poetry and song, here is a poem I wrote recently about this cycle of human wandering that is as old as time.  Enjoy!

“Egypt”

Leaving is not our choice.

Neither is staying.

The upright pyramids gleam like sand.

The sand gleams like fallen pyramids.

We gather belongings.

Count heads.

Approach the door.

We curse, bless, cough.

Taskmasters steady whips.

The eyes of our neighbors stare.

Pharaoh may catch us.

Elijah cannot save us.

We walk through the threshold.

There is no returning.

Leaving is not our choice.

Shabbat Shalom,
Rabbi Alex