אודות המחבר
Yakov Azriel
was born in New York and came to live in Israel after finishing his BA in English literature in Brooklyn College (summa cum laude) at the age of 21. When he came to Israel, he studied at Mercaz HaRav Kook for two years, and later on, completed an MA in Judaica, and in May 2004 he received his doctorate (on the stories of Rabbi Nachman of Braslav). He is presently a lecturer at Herzog College. He has published four full-length books of poetry: Threads From A Coat Of Many Colors: Poems on Genesis (2005); In The Shadow Of A Burning Bush: Poems on Exodus (2008); Beads For The Messiah's Bride: Poems on Leviticus (2009); and Swimming In Moses' Well: Poems on Numbers (2011), all published by Time Being Books, a literary press that specializes in poetry. Over 250 of his poems have been published in journals and magazines in the United States, the United Kingdom and Israel, and his poems have won eighteen different awards in international poetry competitions. In addition, Yakov has twice been awarded fellowships from the Memorial Foundation for Jewish Culture for his poetry. Dr. Azriel can be contacted at: yakovaz@hotmail.com
A Poem for Parashat Re'eh
יעקב עזריאל
אב תשע"ו
SEEKING IN JERUSALEM THE GATEWAYS
"Only to the Place which the Lord your God will choose from amidst all your tribes to establish His Name there, and there to dwell — there alone are you to go and seek Him.” (Deuteronomy 12:5)


Jaffa Gate: Saturday. Dusk. From the Throne of God
Silently descend threads of a blue veil
To enwrap, entwine, and tint the pale
White stone houses of Jerusalem. Three stars wait
In the darkening sky for us to celebrate
Havdalah, and shut the Shabbat gate.

Zion Gate: Monday's dawn unlatches the gate
Of learning. Can you overhear God
Whisper, or can you glimpse the veil
That masked Moses as we read from the pale
White parchment of the Torah? The Jerusalem winds impatiently wait
Outside the stone study-hall, and in the leaves of olive trees, celebrate.

Flowers' Gate: Tuesday morning clouds embrace, merge, celebrate,
And stroke the Jerusalem hills. The gate
Of beauty never closes; the clouds, in their search for God,
Transform into stones, trees, temples, and finally a veil.
Leaves of olive trees (turning from dark to pale
Green), turning like the pages of a prayer-book, whisper and wait.

Damascus Gate: Do you too seek revelation? Why wait
For the blinding sun-rays of Wednesday noon to celebrate
Jerusalem's splendor, and entrance you; the gate
Of prophecy needs only a gentle touch; God
Has written you a message in the crevices of stone; under the veil
Find inscribed your name: deciphered, decoded and pale.

Lions' Gate: After touching the Kotel's stones, a pale
Hand opens a prayer-book. The words do not wait
For a minyan to gather as they reverberate, celebrate,
And ascend on Thursday afternoon, unlocking the gate
Of prayer. Beyond words, beyond Jerusalem's skies, God
Listens as words of prayer strive to move aside the veil.

Dung Gate: Do the large, silent stones of the Kotel veil
The Shechinah, blushing beyond the pale?
The stones, losing color in the Friday twilight, wait
For us to dance, to herald and celebrate
The Shabbat's arrival, opening the gate
Of compassion, the gate closest to God.

The Gate of Compassion:
Who cannot celebrate Jerusalem? Who can wait
Outside the Sanctuary's gate? Pale
Pilgrims, we lift, hands trembling, the veil of God.