Shavuot: A Poem - giving of first fruits and the Torah

I wrote this poem in 2005, to commemorate the Jewish Holiday of Shavuot which occurs 50 days after Passover. The first day of Shavuot was yesterday. It is a 2-day holiday. I practiced Judaism for 10 yrs after converting in 1995, but am now a Christian (again) after having been raised Catholic. On Shavuot, Jews would bring their first harvested fruits as a sacrifice to God to the Temple in Jerusalem. When their fruits were first growing, they would tie a string to the first fruits on the trees and plants so that they could bring those for their sacrifice. Shavuot also celebrates the giving of the Torah, or the first 5 books of the Bible, known as the Books of Moses, that were given on Mt Sinai. In the Jewish faith, it is believed that every Jew, past, present, and future was present at the giving of the Torah at Mt Sinai. After wandering in the desert for 40 yrs they came to the Jordan River to cross to the Promised Land, and Joshua read the 5 Books of Moses to the people before crossing the river. You can also read about a modern-day celebration of Shavuot on a farm at the website/blog of Margaret Hathaway and Karl Schatz here Ten Apple Farm I hope you enjoy this poem. It was fun to write, and reading it again takes me back to those times of learning about Judaism, and tying me to my Christian roots.

Deuteronomy 5:3-4 It was not with our fathers that the Lord made this covenant, but with us, the living, every one of us who is here today. Face to face the Lord spoke to you on the mountain out of fire.


Revelation
after the song I Remember You . . . by Rabbi Joe Black and Deuteronomy 5

The Sages and Rabbis said
every Jew, alive, dead,
and yet to be,
stood at Mt. Sinai.
All Jewish souls were present there.

I remember you . . .
standing at the base
of that mountain,
covered in soot
from the heat of the fire
and smoky cloud.

We stood side by side
cowering from the shofar blast,
covering our eyes and ears.
He gave us laws and rules to live by
through the hand of Moses,
a covenant with us
not Abraham, Isaac, or Jacob,
our fathers.

We’ve gone our separate ways,
you look so foreign to me
and I know you think me strange.
But we are bound
by what happened that day
when God spoke face to face.

After forty years of wandering
we hear these words again
on the steppes of Moab,
at the Jordan, near Jericho.
There is a moment of surprise,
of recognition, and awe,
as we remember
how we stood together
at the foot of that mountain
so long ago.