Friday, December 30, 2011

It Was Up To Them

My mother sent me this poem to read awhile ago and I fell in love with it. I hope you enjoy it as much as I do. Arlene Chernow said she wrote this poem to "remind us of the gifts the Jewish people have received throughout the generations from our non-Jewish moms."

REMEMBER MY NAME
By  Arlene Sarah Chernow
You remember my husband,
You tell his story,
He saved his family from famine,
They became the Jewish people.
He became a trusted advisor of Pharaoh.
He made his brothers jealous.
They sold him into slavery,
but he forgave them because he wanted to
see his father one more time.
His name was Joseph.You remember my sons,
Ephraim and Manesseh.
Every Shabbat you bless your sons
Asking God to make your sons like my sons.
You remember my father-in-law, Jacob.  He became Israel.
I was the daughter of a priest,
I was given to Joseph as his wife by Pharaoh.
My father was the priest of On, an Egyptian city.
Joseph told me stories about the Hebrew people.
For many years Joseph did not know if he would
ever see his family again.
He wanted his sons to know about his people,
He wanted his sons to be a part of his people.
Joseph loved his family and their traditions.
It was up to me.
I loved Joseph.
His children were the greatest gift I could give to his people.
All I ask is,
When you tell these stories,
Please remember my name.
My name is Aseneth.

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