The New Moon
If God were the sun, then Israel might be the moon,
her face reflecting God's eternal light.
Yes, Israel is like the moon, the moon
who waxes and wanes,
grows old, and then renews herself,
yet never leaves the skies.
Faithfully, she reappears to walk the night,
glimmering silver, in the darkened sky.
Faithfully, she spreads her pale and ghostly light
on every room and tree and blade of grass
Until the whole world turns to silver,
transformed from darkness to shimmering beauty.
Yes, Israel, be like the moon,
renew your faith each generation.
Even when the earth casts its shadow of darkness,
faithfully reflect the light of God;
Pour over the whole world
the moonlight beauty of holiness.
- From Ruth F. Brin z"l, HARVEST: Collected Poems and Prayers, The Reconstructionist Press, New York, 1986.
If God were the sun, then Israel might be the moon,
her face reflecting God's eternal light.
Yes, Israel is like the moon, the moon
who waxes and wanes,
grows old, and then renews herself,
yet never leaves the skies.
Faithfully, she reappears to walk the night,
glimmering silver, in the darkened sky.
Faithfully, she spreads her pale and ghostly light
on every room and tree and blade of grass
Until the whole world turns to silver,
transformed from darkness to shimmering beauty.
Yes, Israel, be like the moon,
renew your faith each generation.
Even when the earth casts its shadow of darkness,
faithfully reflect the light of God;
Pour over the whole world
the moonlight beauty of holiness.
- From Ruth F. Brin z"l, HARVEST: Collected Poems and Prayers, The Reconstructionist Press, New York, 1986.
וא"ר אחא בר חנינא א"ר אסי א"ר יוחנן כל המברך על החדש בזמנו כאילו מקבל פני שכינה
And Rabbi Aḥa bar Ḥanina says that Rabbi Asi says that Rabbi Yoḥanan says: With regard to anyone who blesses the new month in its proper time, it is as if he greets the Face of the Divine Presence.
מרימר ומר זוטרא מכתפי (אהדדי) ומברכי א"ל רב אחא לרב אשי במערבא מברכי ברוך מחדש חדשים אמר ליה האי נשי דידן נמי מברכי
The Gemara relates: Mareimar and Mar Zutra would lean on one another’s shoulders and recite the blessing. Rav Aḥa said to Rav Ashi: In the West, Eretz Yisrael, they recite the following blessing on the moon: Blessed is He Who renews the months. Rav Ashi said to him: Our women also recite that blessing, meaning that this is an abridged version.
אלא כדרב יהודה דאמר רב יהודה ברוך [וכו'] אשר במאמרו ברא שחקים וברוח פיו כל צבאם חוק וזמן נתן להם שלא ישנו את תפקידם ששים ושמחים לעשות רצון קונם פועלי אמת שפעולתן אמת וללבנה אמר שתתחדש עטרת תפארת לעמוסי בטן שהן עתידין להתחדש כמותה ולפאר ליוצרם על שם כבוד מלכותו ברוך אתה ה' מחדש חדשים
Rather, the full version of the blessing is the version of Rav Yehuda. As Rav Yehuda says: Blessed are You, Lord our God, King of the Universe, Who by His word created the heavens, and by the breath of his mouth all their hosts. He set for them a law and a time, that they should not deviate from their task. And they are joyous and glad to perform the will of their Owner; they are workers of truth whose work is truth. And to the moon He said that it should renew itself as a crown of beauty for those He carried from the womb, as they are destined to be renewed like it, and to praise their Creator for the name of His glorious kingdom. Blessed are You the Lord, Who renews the months.
How the full moon wakes you
The white cat is curled up in the sky
its cloudy tail drawn round its flanks.
Waking, it struts over the roofs singing
down chimneys, its claws clicking
on the roof tiles that loosen and fall.
Now it runs along the bare boughs of the oak.
Now it leaps to the beech and sharpens
its long yellow claws. Sparks fly out.
The moon is hungry and calls to be fed,
cries to come into the bedroom through
the skylight and crawls under the covers,
to curl up at your breast and purr.
The moon caterwauls on the back fence
saying I burn, I am hot as molten silver.
I am the dancer on the roof who wakes you.
Rise to me and I will melt you to silk dust.
I am the passion you have forgotten
in your long sleep, but now your bones glow
through your flesh, your eyes see in the dark.
On owl wings you will hunt through the night.
- Marge Piercy, from Mars and Her Children: Poems Knopf, 1992
The white cat is curled up in the sky
its cloudy tail drawn round its flanks.
Waking, it struts over the roofs singing
down chimneys, its claws clicking
on the roof tiles that loosen and fall.
Now it runs along the bare boughs of the oak.
Now it leaps to the beech and sharpens
its long yellow claws. Sparks fly out.
The moon is hungry and calls to be fed,
cries to come into the bedroom through
the skylight and crawls under the covers,
to curl up at your breast and purr.
The moon caterwauls on the back fence
saying I burn, I am hot as molten silver.
I am the dancer on the roof who wakes you.
Rise to me and I will melt you to silk dust.
I am the passion you have forgotten
in your long sleep, but now your bones glow
through your flesh, your eyes see in the dark.
On owl wings you will hunt through the night.
- Marge Piercy, from Mars and Her Children: Poems Knopf, 1992