and tied together
by love.
Text and image © 2020 by Donald C. Traxler aka Donald Jacobson Traxler.
Wednesday, March 4, 2020
His World Is Multiplanar
His world is multiplanar,
and tied together
by love.
Text and image © 2020 by Donald C. Traxler aka Donald Jacobson Traxler.
and tied together
by love.
Text and image © 2020 by Donald C. Traxler aka Donald Jacobson Traxler.
Exiles
We are all exiles,
and only love
can lead us back
to our country.
Nous sommes tous des exilés,
et seulement l'amour
peut nous ramener
à notre pays.
Todos somos exiliados
y solo amor
nos puede llevar de vuelta
a nuestro pais.
Somos todos exilados,
e somente amor
pode nos levar de volta
para o nosso país.
Text © 2020 by Donald C. Traxler aka Donald Jacobson Traxler.
and only love
can lead us back
to our country.
Nous sommes tous des exilés,
et seulement l'amour
peut nous ramener
à notre pays.
Todos somos exiliados
y solo amor
nos puede llevar de vuelta
a nuestro pais.
Somos todos exilados,
e somente amor
pode nos levar de volta
para o nosso país.
Text © 2020 by Donald C. Traxler aka Donald Jacobson Traxler.
Journal of a Naked Poet XXIII - Hinduism
One of the influences on me was Hinduism. In Hinduism it is often said that there are three paths to liberation: the path of karma, which is action or work; the path of jñana (gyana), which is knowledge; and the path of bhakti, which is devotion. I think the first two are more or less self-explanatory, but the third is often misunderstood.
It is not the ishta devatá, the chosen or desired deity, that saves or liberates; it is the devotion itself. The devotees are already liberated by their devotion.
In the end, it is love that saves us.
Text © 2020 by Donald C. Traxler aka Donald Jacobson Traxler.
It is not the ishta devatá, the chosen or desired deity, that saves or liberates; it is the devotion itself. The devotees are already liberated by their devotion.
In the end, it is love that saves us.
Text © 2020 by Donald C. Traxler aka Donald Jacobson Traxler.
Tuesday, March 3, 2020
Journal of a Naked Poet XXII - Not Glatt, but Gluten-free
Now I'm skipping around chronologically, since the past inhabits and illuminates the present.
It's remarkable how a single word can remind you of a whole story. This morning I was thinking about the dietary rules I have to observe, not for religious reasons but for health ones. The word "glatt," which I think means "smooth" in Yiddish, is a kind of super-kashrut, or "kosher on steroids." This reminded me of my old friend John Blank (not the one in Portland, whom I still know, but the one from San Diego and Los Angeles, whom I knew in the 1960s).
John was hanging out with me in San Francisco, after having received a draft notice. He was probably the most ill-suited person for the military that I have ever known. He didn't know what to do, and ended up flying from SF to NYC to consult with the Lubavitcher Rebbe. He hoped to get some kind of letter that would excuse him from military service, but the Rebbe did not comply, and John was on his own.
John went to his appointment with Uncle Sam, and was drafted. But John had a plan, a multifaceted one. One of the first things he did was tell the chaplain that he could only eat kosher food. Not just kosher, but "glatt kosher," "smooth kosher." He never told me the chaplain's response, though I can imagine several possibilities. Anyway, that didn't work.
While John was stationed at Fort Ord, near Monterey, for basic training, he went AWOL and visited me in SF. He had a bottle of vodka (which he pronounced more like "vodkee" or "vodkeh") in his duffel bag, and I assume he had been making use of it. I think this would have been in early 1967, and John wanted to go to a concert at the Fillmore Auditorium. So we got on the number 16 bus and went to the Fillmore.
John's plan, at this point, was to get into so much trouble that they wouldn't want him. He got on the bus and went back to Ft. Ord and turned himself in as AWOL. Apparently they hadn't even missed him, and had little to say about it. He was still batting zero.
Next, John told the chaplain that he had to have time for his prayers. The chaplain told him that he could do it in the bathroom. This infuriated John, since it contravened all the rules of purity.
Having exhausted his avenues of argument with the chaplain, John made an appointment with the base psychologist. By now John had been in the Army for two or three months. He had refused to carry a rifle, but he could play some instrument, so they had put him in the band. Anyway, when he went into the psychologist's office he acted as crazy as he could and told the shrink that he wanted to kill someone. This time, they believed him. He was given a general discharge.
The last time I talked to John, he called me in the middle of the night from Seattle. I couldn't do anything for him, because Dan and Al were crashed on the floor of my small studio apartment and I was looking for what eventually would become a communal hippie-house.
I don't know if John is still on the planet, but if he is, I'd like to find him, and share a bottle of "vodkee" with him.
Text © 2020 by Donald C. Traxler aka Yakov Bloom Traxler.
It's remarkable how a single word can remind you of a whole story. This morning I was thinking about the dietary rules I have to observe, not for religious reasons but for health ones. The word "glatt," which I think means "smooth" in Yiddish, is a kind of super-kashrut, or "kosher on steroids." This reminded me of my old friend John Blank (not the one in Portland, whom I still know, but the one from San Diego and Los Angeles, whom I knew in the 1960s).
John was hanging out with me in San Francisco, after having received a draft notice. He was probably the most ill-suited person for the military that I have ever known. He didn't know what to do, and ended up flying from SF to NYC to consult with the Lubavitcher Rebbe. He hoped to get some kind of letter that would excuse him from military service, but the Rebbe did not comply, and John was on his own.
John went to his appointment with Uncle Sam, and was drafted. But John had a plan, a multifaceted one. One of the first things he did was tell the chaplain that he could only eat kosher food. Not just kosher, but "glatt kosher," "smooth kosher." He never told me the chaplain's response, though I can imagine several possibilities. Anyway, that didn't work.
While John was stationed at Fort Ord, near Monterey, for basic training, he went AWOL and visited me in SF. He had a bottle of vodka (which he pronounced more like "vodkee" or "vodkeh") in his duffel bag, and I assume he had been making use of it. I think this would have been in early 1967, and John wanted to go to a concert at the Fillmore Auditorium. So we got on the number 16 bus and went to the Fillmore.
John's plan, at this point, was to get into so much trouble that they wouldn't want him. He got on the bus and went back to Ft. Ord and turned himself in as AWOL. Apparently they hadn't even missed him, and had little to say about it. He was still batting zero.
Next, John told the chaplain that he had to have time for his prayers. The chaplain told him that he could do it in the bathroom. This infuriated John, since it contravened all the rules of purity.
Having exhausted his avenues of argument with the chaplain, John made an appointment with the base psychologist. By now John had been in the Army for two or three months. He had refused to carry a rifle, but he could play some instrument, so they had put him in the band. Anyway, when he went into the psychologist's office he acted as crazy as he could and told the shrink that he wanted to kill someone. This time, they believed him. He was given a general discharge.
The last time I talked to John, he called me in the middle of the night from Seattle. I couldn't do anything for him, because Dan and Al were crashed on the floor of my small studio apartment and I was looking for what eventually would become a communal hippie-house.
I don't know if John is still on the planet, but if he is, I'd like to find him, and share a bottle of "vodkee" with him.
Text © 2020 by Donald C. Traxler aka Yakov Bloom Traxler.
Monday, March 2, 2020
The Gates of the Heart
As I recently said, "a naked poet has no secrets." For me, at least, the practice of poetry is a stripping off of what is not real, and a baring and communicating of what is. I'm sure that many of my readers have watched in amazement as two competing traditions pulled at me from opposite directions. This is the kind of thing that I resolve in poems and in "aha moments" in the middle of the night.
I have always known that at least a quarter of my ancestry was Irish, and that another quarter had come to this country from Sweden. Both parents of my paternal grandmother, Judith Jacobson, had come to America from Sweden, where the two families had already known each other. But until I was about thirty years old, my father did not tell me that some of them were, or "had been" Jews. In recent years, I have learned a lot more.
This explains many things. It explains the old, pipe-smoking Swedish grandmother (great- or great- great- to me) who had a little cabin to herself on the family farm. The kids liked to peek into her windows, where sometimes they saw her lighting candles and practicing exotic rituals. She was not a witch; she was lighting candles for Shabbat.
It also explains why my father never mentioned a first cousin who had retained his ancestral faith and died fighting the Nazis when his plane was shot down over Germany.
It further explains why every week MyHeritage is sending me notification of new "DNA cousins" in Finland, a country that was never mentioned in family history. There are others from northwest Russia and from the Ukraine, also never mentioned in oral family history.
Finally, it helps me to understand why Judaism has attracted me (has been screaming in my blood, actually) most of my life.
Those ancestors who came to this country from Sweden, having passed through the Ukraine, northwest Russia, and Finland, most of them at least, did a very unwise thing: they cut themselves off from the very roots that were there to nourish them. In those days, many others did the same thing.
So a correction, if not an expiation, is in order. I have been embracing those same roots, in many ways, since 1964. I now feel strongly that this embracing needs to be done in a more "official" way. And so it will.
But there is a fly in the fruit bowl: a pandemic is here, now just forty-five minutes by car from where we live. My wife and I are both "seniors," but Sandy is especially vulnerable to the new virus, due to both age and existing respiratory problems. I cannot unnecessarily put myself in the middle of large groups of people.
So for now my congregation will be Sha'arei Lev--the Gates of the Heart.
Text © 2020 by Donald C. Traxler aka Donald Jacobson Traxler.
I have always known that at least a quarter of my ancestry was Irish, and that another quarter had come to this country from Sweden. Both parents of my paternal grandmother, Judith Jacobson, had come to America from Sweden, where the two families had already known each other. But until I was about thirty years old, my father did not tell me that some of them were, or "had been" Jews. In recent years, I have learned a lot more.
This explains many things. It explains the old, pipe-smoking Swedish grandmother (great- or great- great- to me) who had a little cabin to herself on the family farm. The kids liked to peek into her windows, where sometimes they saw her lighting candles and practicing exotic rituals. She was not a witch; she was lighting candles for Shabbat.
It also explains why my father never mentioned a first cousin who had retained his ancestral faith and died fighting the Nazis when his plane was shot down over Germany.
It further explains why every week MyHeritage is sending me notification of new "DNA cousins" in Finland, a country that was never mentioned in family history. There are others from northwest Russia and from the Ukraine, also never mentioned in oral family history.
Finally, it helps me to understand why Judaism has attracted me (has been screaming in my blood, actually) most of my life.
Those ancestors who came to this country from Sweden, having passed through the Ukraine, northwest Russia, and Finland, most of them at least, did a very unwise thing: they cut themselves off from the very roots that were there to nourish them. In those days, many others did the same thing.
So a correction, if not an expiation, is in order. I have been embracing those same roots, in many ways, since 1964. I now feel strongly that this embracing needs to be done in a more "official" way. And so it will.
But there is a fly in the fruit bowl: a pandemic is here, now just forty-five minutes by car from where we live. My wife and I are both "seniors," but Sandy is especially vulnerable to the new virus, due to both age and existing respiratory problems. I cannot unnecessarily put myself in the middle of large groups of people.
So for now my congregation will be Sha'arei Lev--the Gates of the Heart.
Text © 2020 by Donald C. Traxler aka Donald Jacobson Traxler.
Sunday, March 1, 2020
What Is a Yeshuan?
I recently wrote a poem (based on a dream), in which I identified myself as a Yeshuan, in other words, a follower of the teachings of Rabbi Yeshua (Jesus). Does this mean that I am a Christian? I don't think so, at least as I define it. I am also a Bergsonian, a Jungian, and an admirer of Hillel, but I don't deify any of them.
I see a lot of differences between the Jewish Jesus of the Gospels, especially that of Matthew (and more so when read in its original Hebrew) on the one hand, and the "Christ" of the Epistles. The former is a flesh-and-blood person who was born, who taught, who suffered, and who died; the latter is a symbol and a mental construct.
It was Rabbi Yeshua who said, "To the lands of the Gentiles do not go and into the cities of the Samaritans do not enter. Go to the sheep who have strayed from the house of Israel.." (Mt. 10:5-6)
It was the ambitious Shaul / Paul of Tarsus who said, "I live now, not I, but Christ liveth in me" (Ga 2:20), which sounds to me like the height of chutzpah.
The one wanted to reform his own world; the other wanted to take over the goyish world.
Can I not have the one without the other?
Text © 2020 by Donald C. Traxler aka Donald Jacobson Traxler.
I see a lot of differences between the Jewish Jesus of the Gospels, especially that of Matthew (and more so when read in its original Hebrew) on the one hand, and the "Christ" of the Epistles. The former is a flesh-and-blood person who was born, who taught, who suffered, and who died; the latter is a symbol and a mental construct.
It was Rabbi Yeshua who said, "To the lands of the Gentiles do not go and into the cities of the Samaritans do not enter. Go to the sheep who have strayed from the house of Israel.." (Mt. 10:5-6)
It was the ambitious Shaul / Paul of Tarsus who said, "I live now, not I, but Christ liveth in me" (Ga 2:20), which sounds to me like the height of chutzpah.
The one wanted to reform his own world; the other wanted to take over the goyish world.
Can I not have the one without the other?
Text © 2020 by Donald C. Traxler aka Donald Jacobson Traxler.
Some Thoughts on Monotheism and Divine Names
שְׁמַע יִשׂראאֵ יהוה אֱלֹהֵינוּ יהוה אֶחָד׃
The verse above is Devarim (Deuteronomy) 6:4, The "Shema" that is fundamental to Judaism as we know it. When one says it, one says "Sh'ma yisrael adonai eloheynu adonai echad." The meaning is "Hear, O Israel, the Lord our God, the Lord is one." It is a reaction to surrounding polytheism, either that of Egypt or that of the neighboring tribes. But one does not pronounce the name YHVH, the Tetragrammaton; instead, one says "adonai," which conventionally means "Lord."
I say "conventionally" because the word must originally have had a different meaning. In fact, I think it is Egyptian, by the look of it. In Egyptian it would mean "my Aton." "Aton" in ancient Egyptian meant the disk of the sun, worshiped by Pharaoh Ahkenaton during Egypt's short monotheistic period. It is easy to imagine that "Atonai/Adonai" was the customary title that one used when addressing this pharaoh, and that among his followers it came to simply mean "my lord." The pharaoh was God's representative on earth.
By the way, the alternate spelling "Aten" came from E. A. Wallis Budge, "Late Keeper of the Egyptian and Assyrian Antiquities in the British Museum." The ancient Egyptians did not write vowels, so when the exact character of a vowel was not known, Budge inserted a neutral "e" vowel, to make the language more pronounceable. It turned out to be a pernicious habit that created a lot of misunderstanding. It had a big influence, though, because he translated more Egyptian texts than anyone else.
Anyway, as many scholars have pointed out, Moses, if he existed, probably lived in the century after Akhenaton's death. when the Egyptian monotheists were being persecuted. As many have pointed out, the name "Moses" is Egyptian, and means "is born" or "son." For example, "Tutmoses" means "Thoth is born," or "Son of Thoth." If we take the Biblical stories literally, Moses was raised by a princess of the Egyptian royal family. He would have spoken Egyptian fluently, but could not communicate well in Hebrew, so he had his brother Aaron speak for him.
Moses' monotheism was probably the monotheism of the Aton, the disk of the sun. But Moses never got to enter the Promised Land so his influenced waned. The Aton, a benefic god who was the giver of all life, came to be replaced by YHVH (exact pronunciation long forgotten, and I wouldn't say it even if I knew it, so strong is that stricture). The god represented by the Tetragrammaton was probably a fierce god of the Midianites, who was to be feared.
We find many other Deity-names in the Bible. Most of them, such as El, are Canaanite. It appears that the Hebrews were strongly influenced, at least for a time, by Canaanite religion. Evidence for this can be found, for example, in Psalm 106, which speaks of them having sacrificed their sons and daughters to demons.
The exact meaning and etymology of the "Shaddai" in "El Shaddai" is not known, but it does not look like Hebrew to me.
The thing to remember, it seems to me, is that what we think of as "Judaism" is really Rabbinic Judaism, and it comes from a much later and more evolved period. There are plenty of clues, in the Bible and elsewhere, to less evolved beliefs and practices, but they do not represent the religion that resonates with me.
Text © 2020 by Donald C. Traxler aka Donald Jacobson Traxler.