At the finale of the Torah we read, “And Moses went up from the plains of Moab unto Mount Nebo, to the top of Pisgah…and the Lord showed him all the land…” (34:1) Pisgah was the specific name for a series of mountain ranges in the high plateau of Moab. Elsewhere these ranges are designated by the more general name, “Har hevarim,” i.e. “the mountain of the regions beyond.” This appellation points to the fact that climbing Pisgah is essentially about going to the place where one passes on to the next region, the next phase, of one's journey. This climb is not necessarily about Moses' end, or even the Torah's end, but about seeing 'beyond,' to the next step of the journey, for Moses and for Israel. The lesson of Pisgah is that of seeing into what lies beyond. Likewise, Pisgah can be seen as the archetypal vantage point from which the Land of Israel is to be viewed. Surely then it can be instructive for how we today view the Land of Israel. Just look at one of the central images of Yom Ha'atzmaut. Israelis take to the streets with clamoring celebration. A central ritual of the holiday is to roam the streets toting little rubber hammers with which to hit one''s fellow revelers. These hammers are really quite symbolic of one of Yom Ha''azmaut''s most poignant themes. On the one hand we feel the joy of finally establishing a Jewish state; of finally reaching one of the long awaited apexes of Jewish history. And yet, we are simultaneously aware of how far we as a people have yet to climb, how much work we have yet to do. And thus we take out our little rubber hammers and bang away; celebrating the great accomplishments of the building of the Jewish State, yet all the while hammering for greater and greater improvement. Site still under construction. Perhaps Moses felt a similar sentiment as he gazed out on the Land so long ago. This poem tries to capture that feeling of arrival and the quest for reaching yet beyond. Pisgah Long I climbed With this peak in mind Watched it through my hair and sweat Felt it in my calves and neck my troubled but determined breath grew short and tripped my chapped lips bled though body drag and bloated limb Attended me in every lift I bared the wind As if it was the breathe of God Upon my neck And when the path had long turned rock no longer leaves but granite block alone, but for a hoary hawk aloft above my sleeve - I stopped And through the blur of that exhaust I saw the summit Long I'd sought And how I heaved my body up to palm the peak - my summit touched! and thus I ceased to celebrate this vaulted vista vantage gate triumphantly as Everest, as Hillary, and the nameless rest drunk on prophecy come true that one could claim such altitudes and breathed I deep indeed my feat ….but brief for at my back, the hawk did screech a blade to beckon dare I breach beyond success and shallow beach beyond the patch of skin and stone that I named 'apex' from below though climbing had been courage clawed my findings now made me give pause for now from high sight - rearranged perspective caught a vaster mountain range not conquered yet this stump, no steep but higher still its reign did reach a gasp or two to realize the throng of peaks stretched 'fore my eyes each greater grander than the last a string of studs along earth's back and in that instant learned I the law as sure as gravity and awe Imbibed the truth each climber must: Tuesday's peak Is Wednesday's dust.
(photo credit: The Jerusalem Post)