> Oh Frank my heart sings it's love and appreciationHe understood me, and I understood him. No more words were necessary. Before
> more than you shall ever know! Ever.
he could send me away I left him, and I went with head held high and didn't
turn around. No tears. Only no tears now.
They scolded me when I returned. We were so worried about you. Where were
At Veronica's with Yeshua's mother. Veronica wants to know if the rabbi will
celebrate Seder with you or if she should expect him.
He won't be with her or with us. He already told us. They're looking for a
room to rent, a big one. He says that the family will be large. He says
there will be twenty guests and he is the host.
Who is invited?
All the disciples of course.
Why not? Why do you ask?
No reason. Who else?
His mother and you and Lazarus, and some we don't know.
Not you two?
He asked us to invite Veronica and all our women and some poor people and
children. I have already prepared everything.
Martha, I'm dead tired. I didn't sleep a wink last night.
Go rest then, we'll wake you at the right time.
I slept, but before they came to wake me I was up. I washed, put on fresh
clothes and prepared for the Seder. Without waiting for the others I left
I say that now: I left the house as though I were going out to visit or to
shop. Yes, I left the house. But Yeshua was in that house, and I left. I
left him in order to find him. I didn't walk though, I ran, as if I could
find him sooner the farther away from him I got.
It was almost evening.
The ram-horns were already being blown. Announcements that the feast was
about to begin. I could hear the death cries of the slaughtered animals from
the temple mount, the city already smelled of fresh blood which flowed from
the altar down through the gutters to Kidron and the stink of the entrails
which had been burnt on the altar lay repulsively in the alleys. The first
celebrant passed by holding his lamb in his arms, disemboweled, bled to
death. That vile temple slaughtering. Thousands of lambs died that day.
Death, everywhere blood and death. How could I eat a lamb that evening? How
could I ever again eat the flesh of killed animals? Each animal's death cry
is his, all the blood is his. But then how should I go to the Seder feast
without eating lamb? It was the law: the lamb must be eaten, eaten up till
the last morsel. In remembrance of that last meal, which our forefathers ate
before the removal from Egypt, standing, ready for travel, hurried. And
nothing of the meal may be left over. Since then it has been duty,
commandment, strict law: every Yisraelite must participate in the Seder
feast and must eat of everything on the table. Also the lamb, the usual
food. I cannot. But one must. It is a sin not to eat the Seder meal. But why
a sin? Didn't the rabbi say that it isn't what goes into the mouth that
makes one guilty, but what comes out as evil words? Can I rethink the law?
Fulfill the law by freeing myself from it? There is only one commandment,
the rabbi said.
My decision was: I will go later to the supper, after the lamb has been
eaten and the bones cleared away.
- My decision was: I will go later to the supper, after the lamb has been
eaten and the bones cleared away.
The sun had gone down red under the smoke from the fires, and the moon rose
high, almost full, and I still ran through the alleys like one who had no
family and hadn't been invited to the Seder meal.
People spoke to me twice, taking me for homeless or poor and wanting to take
me home with them, as is every Jew's duty. But also: two men spoke to me:
you, a Jewess, aren't at the meal? Or aren't you a Jewess? Anyway, you're
pretty, come, we'll pay you well.
They grabbed me, I broke free, they chased me, I fought with hands and feet,
they fought too, and ripped off my cloak. Then I got away from them. My
cloak lay on the ground. I remembered something: "The guards found me on
their rounds through the city, the wall guards took away my cloak". The
night was cold. I froze. I ran to Veronica's to ask for a wrap of some kind.
Are you crazy to run around tonight? And how you look! Come in, we're just
stating the Hallel.
I can't, let me go.
She gave me a shawl of white wool, nice and warm, but white. We didn't
realize that the whiteness acted as a signal in the moonlit night. And we
couldn't guess what a puzzle that white shawl would pose for those who were
with us later on the Mount of Olives. A white form of light, an angel with a
chalice full of consolation. Too much.
But that hadn't happened yet. I sought out a dark corner from where I could
see the door of the house in which our people would have the Seder meal. I
heard footsteps. I recognized his among them all. Before he entered he
turned and looked in my direction. I held my breath until the door had
closed behind him and the others. I stood there and stared at the window
behind which there was light, and I heard the songs and the blessings and
knew what was happening: now the host blesses the first cup, now they wash
their hands, now they dip the herbs in the salty water and eat them, now the
host blesses the matzo and puts a piece aside, now the host begins to read
the story of the departure from Egypt, now they sing the Hallel.
I didn't hear the words. I looked up at the moon which, waning, hung
gloomily over the temple mount, and then I saw a cat slinking over a wall
toward a crevice in which a dove sat. Such bitter anger overcame me that I
threw a stone at it and yelled: Thou shalt not kill!
I didn't hit it, it sprang over the wall, the dove fluttered off. Murder,
murder everywhere. I gnashed my teeth, like Yehuda.
Yehuda: now he is at the table, now he drinks some wine, now he eats a piece
of matzo, now he dips the bitter herb in the stewed fruit, now he eats the
bitter herb between two pieces of Matzo, now he drinks from the second cup.
And always together with Yeshua, always under Yeshua's gaze. How can he
stand it? Now they bring the roasted lamb. That they can eat on this night!
Doesn't it stick in anyone's throat? Doesn't anyone choke on a bone?
That smell of roasted flesh. I feel sick. So many lambs killed. Murder,
murder. I return to my corner. They are finished eating. They sing the final
prayer. Now they drink from the third cup.
The door opens and someone comes out, ducks into the shadow of the wall,
stays there a moment, then runs away as though being chased. Where is he
going? What remains for him to do?
In the room they began to sing the third part of the Hallel. Time for me. I
knocked the agreed signal on the door, someone let me in, I went up the
stone stairs, entered the room and looked for my place at the table. Yeshua
pointed to it: at the end of the table. His mother sat at the other end. The
place opposite him remained unoccupied. It remained unoccupied forever.
No one asked me why I had come so late. Afterwards Yochanan told me that the
rabbi said when I was still missing: Let's start, she'll come at the right
The meal was over. Yeshua stood and accompanied the guests to the door. He
gave us a sign to stay. We sat down again. What would come now? Yeshua had a
bowl brought in, a pitcher of water and a large linen cloth. What for, we
had already washed our hands.
It wasn't hands that were to be washed. Yeshua placed the bowl and pitcher
on the floor, girded his robe high and kneeled before those who sat on his
right and left: Shimon. He jumped up: "Rabbi, what are you doing? Sand up, I
Sit down, Shimon, so that I can wash your feet.
Frank Thomas Smith
- Frank Thomas Smith wrote:
"And we couldn't guess what a puzzle that white shawl would pose for
those who were with us later on the Mount of Olives. A white form of
light, an angel with a chalice full of consolation. Too much."
- Stephen H:
And the consolation would be one of soothing, loving
> words about how great thou art. I know. I experienced it!And what would your experience be, Stephen?
All good things,
- Hey Everyone,
Continuing on in my Exodus reading I came to a part of
the scripture where God wanted to kill Moses, but his
wife made a covenant with God with her sons flesh. I
am wondering if anyone has any thoughts on that? And
to note, wow, to note that it was God who originated
the idea of killing the first born amongst the non
jews, yet during Christ's time it was the Jews who
were so threatened. And if one looks at all the
supposed killings by God from the signs of horror he
brought upon the people it would seem there wouldn't
be any people to be so afflicted from what is being
said. I find it is in the number of inflictions we can
find the mystery.
Then I am coming to a part wherein we find that Moses
needed miracle after miracle sign to get people to
believe in God. Yet, Jesus needed none but the woman
at the well. I wonder if that is really what is so
appalling to the Jews: Jesus invited them all to the
table irregardless of birthrite amongst the physical
blood ties or that of being a Jew.
Funny how it is noted that Miryam is not only the
sister but also the mother according to some of the
jewish womens understandings. But I shall have to ask
my Rabbi. And how is it that the Pharoah would not
recognize his daughters son?
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