You’re a stiff-necked people,
Our Father did say.
Prone to distraction, led easily astray.
Willful and troublesome,
Since the days of your youth,
But unshakable, when you stand for the truth.
Your Father Avraham
Took it from the top,
When he demolished his father’s idol shop.
Refused the king’s idols, even gave him rebuke,
Then walked out of Nimrod’s furnace,
Like Cool Hand Luke!
His heirs, stubborn slaves,
Kept their language and dress,
Proudly walked out of Egypt, the “iron furnace.”
Avraham and My People
Followed Me to parts unknown;
Unflagging in trust,
It was a land unsown.
Trekked into a howling wilderness,
Not knowing the danger,
Or what would come next.
The world’s nations claim royalty
Through violence and plunder.
Your noblesse proclaimed
Amid lightning and thunder.
A smoking mountain, stood you under,
The whole world stood back, in awe and wonder.
Matan Torah, your coronation,
You pledged, without pause or explanation,
Betrothed to Me, My Holy Nation.
Returned to Israel,
Found it desolate.
The land inhospitable, barren and yet,
Every conqueror tried to restore it
And make it his own.
But no rain quenched the parched land,
It was a dead zone.
Then My Children reappeared,
Resolute, and soon,
Their adamant labor
Made the desert bloom.
For 2,000 years, it couldn’t be done,
Till My promise was kept, to My first-born son.
Exiles, massacres, and expulsions
Make the need for approval, compulsion.
But you boldly, tenaciously rise to great heights,
Even when deprived of your basic rights.
Prone to grievance and complaint,
A yeitzer ha’ra that could use more restraint.
Though you’ve wandered on byways
Where you didn’t belong,
Your faith remained ironclad, your will remained strong.
Scrupulous and dauntless, as the day is long,
Your prayer dear to Me, as the sweetest song.
Good ‘neath the surface, even when mired in sin,
You will find forgiveness, I will gather you in.
Bare reproof,
When you stray,
Like an untrained calf.
Come home, penitent, in tears,
But soon you will laugh.
Though confusion and chaos,
Surge and escalate,
You will soon greet Mashiach,
For you steadfastly wait!
You’re a stiff-necked people,
Haven’t changed a bit.
You may tax Me sorely,
But you never quit.
Stiff-necked, your allegiance,
In every endeavor,
So, I’ll never forsake you,
My People, forever.
By Sharon Marcus