It’s Me
I am the man who has seen affliction by the rod of His wrath. Me He drove off, led away—darkness and no light! Lamentations 3:1-2 Robert Alter
Affliction – I’ve lived long enough to know. To know defeat. To know heartache. To know loss. To know distress. To know evil. To know adversity. To know tribulation. Yes, I’ve lived long enough for the broken world to find its way into me. I am the man who has seen affliction, and because I am also the man who knows the sovereignty of God, I know trouble. Spiritual trouble. The kind that confronts my faith in His righteousness, in His mercy—and tries to make sense of it all.
There are days when the light doesn’t shine. There are days when the meaning of this Hebrew word, ʿŏnî, oozes from the wounds in my soul. Those are the days when I need to remember the other meanings of the same Hebrew consonants.
The primary meaning of ʿānâ III is “to force,” or “to try to force submission,” and “to punish or inflict pain upon,” . . . It is to be distinguished from ʿānâ I, answer; II, occupy; IV, sing.[1]
ʿŏnî is derived from the third ʿānâ root, but there are others. Others that mean “answer,” and yes, I need that for sure. And “occupy,” and yes, I need the Lord to occupy this empty place in me. And finally, “sing.” A new song that is birthed in ʿŏnî, in knowing what it means to be human in this place at this time. I need a song like this one:
It’s me, it’s me, O Lord,
standing in the need of prayer.
It’s me, it’s me, O Lord,
standing in the need of prayer.
Not my brother, not my sister
But it’s me, O Lord
Standing in the need of prayer.
Not my mother, not my father
But it’s me, O Lord
Standing in the need of prayer.
I need to remember that ʿŏnî leads to ʿānâ—affliction leads to song. In the meanwhile, I have to hum a tune.
Topical Index: ʿŏnî, ānâ, affliction, song, Lamentations 3:1-2
[1] Coppes, L. J. (1999). 1652 עָנָה. R. L. Harris, G. L. Archer Jr., & B. K. Waltke (Eds.), Theological Wordbook of the Old Testament (electronic ed., p. 682). Chicago: Moody Press.
Thank you for this timely cry. This week we can engage with the memories of Jacob and Joseph’s weeping and their ability to connect the traumas of the past that were not all theirs to a story that was not all theirs in the making.
In Rabbi Shefa Gold’s parsha she comments:
THE BLESSING
WHEN JOSEPH’S BROTHERS LEARN that he is still alive, they must go and tell their father, but they are afraid that he will die of shock upon learning the truth. They are afraid that this news will be too great a blessing, and that Jacob’s soul will fly out of him upon hearing it. They argue with each other about who will deliver the news.
There is a legend that recounts the solution to their problem. Jacob had a favorite grand-daughter, Serach, who was the daughter of his son Asher. Serach was a musician with a gentle voice and a powerful spirit. Her songs were a healing balm for Jacob during his dark nights of wrestling. Whenever he called for Serach, she sang for him and he was comforted.
It was agreed that only Serach would be able to reveal this great news, because when Jacob’s soul, overcome by blessing, flew out, Serach would be able to sing a song that would call his soul back to this world.
THE SONG THAT SERACH SANG to Jacob was the most beautiful melody she had ever sung. Everyone that heard it wept with joy because in it Joseph’s spirit was revealed. The melody carried Joseph’s beauty, pain, longing, love and devotion. Her words told the story of his journey and it was woven with his dreams. Serach’s song also told the truth about the whole family, a truth that would have been hard to hear if it were not delivered with such purity.
When Jacob heard Serach’s song, his soul indeed flew out and left this world… but it was called back by the beauty of her song. For this gift, Serach was rewarded with a very long life. It is said that she sang through 400 years of slavery in Egypt.
When the people were about to leave Egypt, they were at first held back by their promise to bring Joseph’s bones along with them. Fortunately, having lived long enough to both witness Joseph’s burial and be present at the time of the Exodus, Serach located exactly where Joseph was buried, and the liberation could begin.
THE SPIRITUAL CHALLENGE
WE, LIKE JACOB, WILL REMAIN ignorant of the greatest blessing — the miracle of life itself — unless we can receive that blessing in beauty. The truth of our lives will remain mute and invisible unless it becomes a song. The vast miracle of our existence would be overwhelming if received unadorned, and all at once. It would tear us open, and our souls, set free, would fly. Yet, artful glimpses of that same vast miracle gradually expand our capacity to know the truth. The spiritual challenge that we share with our father Jacob is to prepare ourselves to listen for the song of truth and blessing, and to let its beauty call us to deeper living.
We, like Serach, will be rewarded for our song. Our reward will be the ability to preserve the precious memory (of the etzem, which means “bones” or “essence”) that will eventually lead to freedom. And we are challenged to keep singing, to keep the memory and blessing alive in our song, even through the darkest days of slavery.
ALL THE SPIRITUAL CHALLENGE and blessings of Vayigash rest on a pivotal moment — the moment when Joseph reveals himself to his brothers. He steps out from behind the mask of power, the mask of the false self, and weeps aloud. These are the tears of profound relief and of love unbound. This moment of expansion is the result of Joseph’s embrace of a paradox. Two seemingly contradictory truths live inside Joseph, and when he can hold them both, then the true self is set free from artifice.
LATER IN THE STORY Joseph describes this moment to his brothers. “You meant evil against me, but God meant it for good.” (Genesis 50:20) On some days we acknowledge the deep woundings that we have suffered; we mourn the loss of innocence; we confront the face of evil. And on some days we absolutely know that those very same wounds are the source of our compassion and power; we celebrate the essential rightness of the path of Life in all its turnings, understanding that what feels like evil is an aspect of the goading force that unfolds the soul to its true breadth.
And there comes a day when both these perspectives exist at once. On that day joy and anguish meet within us and the resulting alchemical reaction explodes the boundaries of the false self. On that day we are set free. This freedom allows us to come out of hiding, to finally tell the truth and reveal ourselves.
Having come to semitic and Jewish/Rabbinic perspectives late in life, I appreciate you sharing this “reading” of the Parsha, Stephen. The text of scripture is always evocative, and often elusive, affecting individuals who are living life relative to Israel’s “Yahwistic” testimony and witness of faith.