The Rabbi

Rabbi Jeremiah, I have not yet been so close to death as to kiss the dust of Yhwh’s feet, but you walk so close it is a daily reality. You and your existence baffle me, as you walk without hope, live without refreshment, exist in a mere state of persistence. Death row… you taught me that to be close to Yhwh required the act of seeing Him, which stuns the eyes, dazzles the mind, confuses the heart, and causes one to speak words rendered madness. He has bewitched us, and therefore like a pied piper He beguiles our beings to their destruction. Persecution vs. protection… how can this state not be but both… He draws us into Himself with the charm of a siren, luring us deeper towards the heart of His maelstrom where we will be dashed to pieces on the rock of His heart, swallowed by His ocean… but better to be drowned in love through the hands of those who reject Him than buried in their earthen graves.

I marvel that through such daily death you persist in feeling His message… the welts of my own back and the wounds on my own hands have become dulled in their sensitivity. Maybe His lashes through the hands of the enemy must tear deeper until we no longer have to strip self away, but find it uncovered at its deepest core through the wounds of hell on earth. It can be but a purgatory to destroy this flesh… but oh how my hope languishes in peril at each anticipated blow. To offer purgatory to the inquisitors is mercy and love in itself, yet you were perceived as a threat… isn’t that how it always is? Pain and death are the only ways to shuffle off this mortal coil… life is too sensuous to give up by will… even you are slowly cut out of it. Yhwh strips off each layer of self to result in a rawer existence, more pliable to His probing. My skin is all but gone, o my G-d… where does Your spirit aim with that blade of Your word?

Sharper than a two-edged sword, I am finding myself dismembered by them outside and Him within. Is it only to die that I must surrender enough… and allow Him to animate my lifeless being? O that the prison of Sheol permitted a hearing before my G-d; I would request to be in His presence.. for when I am destroyed, I can be burned as incense before Him, purified into Holy existence and pleasing to Him. While killing is worse for them, perhaps it shortens your purgatory… mine is still uncertain. You are the Prometheus, bound by the will of the G-d to the mountain, where your heart is daily torn from you by the people you most deeply love. You could break the bonds, you imagine, yet you remain, fixated by the love of Him who destroys you. As He daily restores to you a heart, do you ever consider ending your torment, or will life be worth the destruction every moment, just for the sake of feeling the touch of Yhwh? How I have sometimes envied you… so close, close enough to be absorbed by Yhwh after your final, inevitable destruction… assumed into the incense of His glory.

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