A Poem About Rabbis

Picture a Rabbi.  
Close your eyes.
Now show me what you’ve got. 

Ah, your rabbi comes through to you
On the old black and white TV.
Black: fedora, coat, pants, shoes
White: shirt
Gray: bushy beard 

Your rabbi stares out from an old photo, 
Propped up in the china cabinet
Next to the crystal pickle bowl.

His dusty Torah
Is pulled by oxen
(Or perhaps a steam locomotive).

He blesses wine, and bread, 
And shushes little children.

OK.  
I see your rabbi.
 
Come! 
Look at what I’ve found:
A sparkling, glow-in-the-dark rabbi, 
Best viewed in Deep Color.

My rabbi has wild curls, 
And a purple dress.
My rabbi has ruby lips
And a megawat smile.

Her shining, restless Torah pulls her
From sanctuaries
To coffee shops.
From picket lines
To hospital beds.

She sees you
As you would be seen
And blesses you with yourself.

So break out your magic markers
And color your rabbi in.
Unfurl his Torah and release him
From his monochrome days.

Join the glow-in-the dark rabbi
Wrestling G-d and man
In the 21st century.