God did not give us the land for the sole purpose of burying the dead. The state tramples upon our dreams of freedom to convene in prayer. Instead of misery, we bow our heads. So many stand impenetrable and dark. We sing songs of victory and remember the way our ancestors bled.
The heart and mind last beyond the grave. God appears to us as we imagine in our core beliefs. Some fear punishment, but true believers never despair of God’s mercy. Some are led to Paradise with effusive praise. It is exhausting counting the days waiting for an end to the separation of divinity from humanity. We are not born to be slaves. We serve a higher purpose. We exist both inside and outside of time. Our spirit is capable of writing poetry, of singing rhymes, of trusting without seeing with our eyes. Death is something that will end. Our souls are knitted together in an exquisite tapestry. Logic keeps us going. Emotion embeds.
Today, we mourn the loss of friends. Yesterday, we were the descendants of Adam and Eve. Somewhere in-between we completely abandoned what it means to be a human being. We are meant to live together in perfect peace. Are we not all a collection of material and immaterial?
Our soul connects with the Creator in the living, in the blessing, in the daylight, and in the evening, followed by night, ignited by the sun rising at dawn. At every hour, someone cries. There are the tears of a newborn child. There are the tears of a life that is over, that has gone by—a farewell, a goodbye.
We accept the good and withstand the evil. God is our strength and source. The world is in a state of upheaval. We are moving away from the imperial to being guided by a sovereign God. Not human hands, but ethereal will. Not the black versus white. Not a bitter pill.
Where are the righteous? There are only a few. Who wakes for prayer? Who sleeps ‘til noon? Who measures time by the light of the moon?
The martyrs do not rest. There are those who beat their chests wondering who is next, what else will be stolen, why is politics determined by a mathematical solution? In the name of many, one. Within one, many. Those who are left surrender. It is morning. Can I enter? I am not asking for permission. Is it possible to please my Lord while some are bent on division?
Can I enter a holy place and show my face? Will I be beaten? There is no way to replace what was taken. The divine countenance is sullen. A war has broken out. Some want clout. Some do not know what this conflict is all about.
Let us plant seeds of good deeds and water and breathe. Let us achieve more tomorrow once we remove today’s obstacles. Let us tell stories that are unique and universal. From God to man, a command. From soldier to civilian, waylaid with weapons over an opinion. From death to life, a hero’s reversal. From nothing to someone, a divine introduction - a spark. From subject to object, a well-chosen verb. There is more to God than what you’ve ever read or heard. There are some lessons we only learn through death. Must it be our own?
And when we cross that bridge, will we allow others to take their turn? Or will we burn it down? God’s wrath, have we earned?
- Yerusalem Work
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