Mahanaim: Dance of the Double Camp

 Will you look at Solomon’s Song, the 6th chapter and 13th verse, “Return, return, O Shulamite; return, return, that we may look upon you. What will you see in the Shulamite? As it were the company of two armies,” or Mahanaim, for that is literally how it stands in the Hebrew. In the Church of God, then, we see the company of Mahanaim—the saints are the angels of God on earth as the angels are His hosts above.

from: MAHANAIM or, Hosts of Angels, Sermon # 1544  June 20, 1880, By C. H. Spurgeon
www.spurgeongems.org

Some time in the 1980s, the world became divided into two camps.
Either you loved Yardena Arazi or you loved Ofra Haza.

from: Adi Keissar,The Ofra Haza Enigma 

Ofra Haza (עפרה חזה) (born as Bat-Sheva Ofrah Hazah in Hatikva, Tel Aviv

Who will give me Two loves as before
Thus I’ll gather strength in the sorrow of youth.

Who will give me / Two torches of glow
This I’ll light up as the youth of love.

The circle of time boils over
And a person whispers to another
Look, time has passed / Time has passed.
The circle of time boils over
And a person whispers to another
Look, time has passed Time has passed.

Who will give me / Two delightful maidens
Two maidens at the charity of sundown.

Who will give me… 
Sin smiles in the morning
Sin smiles in the bliss of love.

The circle of time boils over
And a person whispers to another
Look, time has passed / Time has passed.
The circle of time boils over
And a person whispers to another
Look, time has passed / Time has passed.

Who will give me…

Parental Elemental Health: Perinatal Poetics

PRELUDE to a post-nuptial pre-partum event…

what is meant
by this prenatal parental lament?
Can the “Spare-a-Dime” shaft upgrade to paradigm shift
as buzzwords replace the new jargon?

If the new synthetic empathy is merely the same old pathetic symphony,
should we put away the flow charts when the show starts
to prevent a casual view of the visual cue?
I fear this will only occur
when fast-breeding Other becomes breast-feeding mother
even if her man’s fertility is eclipsed
by human futility.

 

 

Dance of Mahanaim

Cumbia Ecuatoriana,  High Holy Liturgy or Syrian/Yemenite war-dance?

You decide…

Vuelve, vuelve, Sulamita; vuelve, vuelve, que te veamos.
¿Qué ven en la Sulamita cuando danza entre dos coros?
¡Qué hermosos tus pies en las sandalias, princesa!
Las curvas de tus caderas son alhajas fabricadas
por manos de artesanos.
Tu ombligo es copa redonda donde no falta el licor.
Tu vientre, montón de trigo rodeado de azucenas.
Tus dos pechos son dos crías mellizas de gacela.
Torre de marfil, tu cuello; pozos de Jesbón, tus ojos,
junto a la puerta mayor; tu nariz, torre del Líbano,
centinela de Damasco.
Tu cabeza se levanta igual que el monte Carmelo,
tu cabello es como púrpura que a un rey enreda en sus trenzas.
¡Qué hermosa y que dulce eres, amor mío, qué delicia!
Tu talle es una palmera y tus pechos, los racimos.
Dije: “Subiré a la palmera y recogeré sus dátiles”.
Tus pechos serán racimos de uvas
y tu aliento, aroma de manzanas.
Tu paladar es como vino bueno que me baja suavemente,
remojando los labios y los dientes.
Yo pertenezco a mi amor que siente pasión por mí.
Ven, amor mío, vayamos al campo y pasemos la noche en las aldeas.
De madrugada iremos a las viñas a ver si están en cierne las vides,
si despuntan los retoños, si florecen los granados.
¡Y allí te daré mi amor!
Las mandrágoras esparcen sus aromas
y a la puerta están todos los frutos,
tanto nuevos como añejos, que he guardado, amor mío, para ti.
Return, return, O Shulammite; Return, return, that we may look upon thee.
Why will ye look upon the Shulammite, as upon the dance of Mahanaim?
How beautiful are thy feet in sandals, O prince’s daughter!
Thy rounded thighs are like jewels, the work of the hands of a skillful workman.
Thy body is like a round goblet, wherein no mingled wine is wanting:
Thy waist is like a heap of wheat set about with lilies.
Thy two breasts are like two fawns that are twins of a roe.
Thy neck is like the tower of ivory;
Thine eyes as the pools in Heshbon, By the gate of Bath-rabbim;
Thy nose is like the tower of Lebanon which looketh toward Damascus.
Thy head upon thee is like Carmel, and the hair of thy head like purple;
The king is held captive in the tresses thereof.
How fair and how pleasant art thou, O love, for delights!
This thy stature is like to a palm-tree, And thy breasts to its clusters.
I said, I will climb up into the palm-tree, I will take hold of the branches thereof:
Let thy breasts be as clusters of the vine, And the smell of thy breath like apples,
And thy mouth like the best wine, that goeth down smoothly for my beloved,
Gliding through the lips of those that are asleep.
I am my beloved’s; and his desire is toward me.
Come, my beloved, let us go forth into the field; let us lodge in the villages.
Let us get up early to the vineyards; let us see whether the vine hath budded,
And its blossom is open, and the pomegranates are in flower:
There will I give thee my love.The mandrakes give forth fragrance; 
And at our doors are all manner of precious fruits, new and old, 
Which I have laid up for thee, O my beloved

Song of Solomon 7 (ASV)


What is the dance of Mahanaim?  Mahanaim actually means “two camps” and sometimes “two armies” – the meaning I want express is that these two camps are heaven and earth and this dance of the Shulammite represents the one who is the beloved wife of the Lamb.  She dances a dance that those around her find totally compelling – they implore her not to go away because they want to have more time to see exactly what this dance is all about – they say “come back, come back, that we may gaze on you!”.  The question is why do they want to gaze on her – it’s because they see that she operates in two realms – the realm of heaven and the realm on earth.  The dance she dances is the dance with the King of all Kings.  He is teaching her perfect timing with His Spirit, perfect cadence, in step with Him, going where He goes, doing what He does. She has learned a dance that allows a divine and intimate worship and a divine warfare – a combination of the purest passion of love and the purest passion of righteous warfare.

from: Highway to Zion

THIS JUST IN : Mahanaim is the dance of the Church vs. Israel !!

 

ΩΩΩΩΩΩΩΩΩΩΩΩΩΩΩΩΩΩΩ

 

 

Multicultural Suicide: an epitaph for K. Mueller

I am re-posting my poem originally dedicated to Code Pink Activist Medea Benjamin, this time as a memorial to the anti-Israel activist Kayla Mueller - deceased while abetting and aiding Islamist thugs.  Was she killed by a Jordanian airstrike – or by her captors ? The God of Israel, the only true God, knows the answer

She was an earnest devotée.
Her ideals, birthed in Chardonnay
were globally diverse (read: white).
A liberal bark preceded bite.
Her crystal clearer than her vision;
she provoked bemused derision
as she breathed intolerance
toward all who would not dance her dance.
She swooned for distant pagan tribes,
attuned to their exotic vibes –
rapt in multi-culti piety
strangely deaf to her own society,
judged by her as abomination;
unredeemed. The background station
always stuck on N.P.R.
(the soundtrack of her culture war),
Pacifica News and Democracy Nows,
and other Progressive holy cows.
Her motherland a shameful mystery:
guilty first, and void of history –
its origins defiled, corrupted…
while she enjoyed uninterrupted
freedom to pursue her whims:
misguided one-world global hymns.
The sisterhood of hu(man) kind
was foremost in her zealous mind –
even should that self-same sisterhood
be sealed by her well-meaning blood.
Out on a date with global death
she hoped to unify the earth
in solidarity with causes
led by killers, warlord bosses,
thugs she never knew existed
who, if she’d met them she’d have resisted.
Her theory landed far from her praxis
spun, by default, on an evil axis.
Hot with zeal she fumed and stormed
quite certain she was well-informed,
at benefits, non-profit functions
rallies, boycotts, left-wing luncheons;
warm with righteous spite for Israel,
aiding and abetting Ishmael
with fellow-travelers, like-minded
similarly hateful, blinded,
rattling sabers, scimitars, axes…
(lunacy never wanes, but waxes
hotter with the passing years
as activists confront their fears).
She finally shilled for the Intifada
(stopping short of reciting Shahada),
reaching out to the terrorist
with righteous raised progressive fist…
offering thus her neck to blade:
collateral to be repaid
by murderers who couldn’t care less
about her open-mindedness.

NB:  Any resemblace of poetic protagonistas to actual people is pure coincidence

IslamicStreet

 

IMAGE CREDIT: AP Photo/Rahmat Gul