I am Isaac / Tradition doesn’t esteem me / as my father and son.
To our people’s cynics / I’m a passive placeholder / set between two visionaries / one hearing God’s voice / the other communing with angels.
To them I’m the do-nothing / dull-witted middle-man / neither here nor there / coerced into submission by a father / tricked by a son / abandoned by God / who willed me slain / to test my father’s faith / thus becoming history’s most misunderstood near-victim.
My father was driven by voices / left home on a promise / and journeyed to a Place he’d never seen / a low-lying mountain shielded round about / by a cloud / beneath heavenly fire.
My son dreamed of angels / ascended ladder rungs / from land and form / into spirit and spheres.
Tradition diminishes me insinuating / that I merely built a worldly fortune / on my father’s wealth.
Dear ancestors / I’m more than this / the wellsprings I uncovered / are more than you know / greater that waters deep, calm, cool, and tranquil / their streams flow to the Source of souls.
I dug anew my father’s wells / the same the Philistines / with stopped-up hearts / and clogged souls / filled in when he died.
I and my servants dug / our thirst unquenchable / passions unleashing / hearts expecting / souls soaring / on angels’ wings.
After our digging / we found the well / and the spring / flowing in earthly and heavenly wetness.
The inflowing fountain never dries up / The well is replenished continually / and whoever drinks from its waters / merges into Oneness through supernal faith.
The wells I dug / are the same as my father’s / That is our gift to you!
I yearn that you / pour the waters into your cups / dig anew / and pour the same / into your children’s cups.
Poem composed by Rabbi John Rosove – The Kiddush Cup was created by Shevach Silversmiths of Jerusalem (Mamilla Mall)
