The Custodian - A Poem

The Custodian

By Edward Hirsch 

Sometimes I think I have lived 


My whole life like that old janitor 


Who locked up after the rabbi 


And patrolled the synagogue at night. 


....

He opened the Holy Ark by hand 


And dusted off the sacred scrolls, 


O Lord, which he never opened, 


And cut the light behind the organ. 


He ignored the Eternal Lamp 


(Woe to the worker who unplugged it!), 


As he vacuumed the House of Prayer 


Muddied by the congregation. 



.....

Every now and then he’d sigh 


And stare up at the domed ceiling 


As if he had heard something auspicious, 


But it was only the wind in the trees.



He picked a prayer book off the floor 


And carried it down to the basement, 


Where he chewed on a sandwich 


And listened to a ballgame on the radio.

The Atlantic, October 2011

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This poem made me wonder how often I've missed the holiness around me. How often do I go through the motions without being in tune with God? How often am I doing the equivalent of listening to a ballgame on the radio while surrounded by God and all that is in my life to remind me of Him and to put me in touch with Him?

January 6, 2015 some lines removed due to copyright & reproducing the entire poem