{"id":105,"date":"2009-03-07T23:22:35","date_gmt":"2009-03-08T04:22:35","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/www.josephzitt.com\/home\/?page_id=105"},"modified":"2011-10-12T21:48:03","modified_gmt":"2011-10-13T02:48:03","slug":"shekhinah-alenu-our-duty","status":"publish","type":"page","link":"http:\/\/www.josephzitt.com\/home\/books\/shekhinah-the-presence\/shekhinah-alenu-our-duty\/","title":{"rendered":"Shekhinah: Alenu (Our Duty)"},"content":{"rendered":"

(return to Shekhinah: the Presence)<\/a><\/em><\/strong><\/p>\n

Click on the image to your right >>
\nto purchase Shekhinah: the Presence. >><\/em><\/span><\/p>\n

\"Shekhinah:<\/em><\/em>
Shekhinah: the Presence<\/figcaption><\/figure>\n

<\/em>
\nSection 8 of “Shekhinah: The Presence” by Joseph Zitt
\nThis is an unedited scan of the text, courtesy of Josh Ronsen
\n– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –<\/p>\n

Time\r\n\r\nno time\r\n\r\ndark in\r\n\r\nhere\r\n\r\nI\r\n\r\nnow\r\n\r\ncan\u0092t sense\r\nmyself\r\n\r\nI am wood\r\nsolid\r\n\r\nmy clothing\r\n  my lining\r\n  velvet panels\r\n  shreds of memory\r\nfall away\r\nfade away\r\n\r\nleaving\r\nwood\r\n\r\nstained by the tears of Rachel\r\nblackened, streaked\r\n  by the soot of the Eternal Flame\r\n    that burns above its doors\r\n  echoing the shards of God\r\n    that burn,\r\n    buried, hidden\r\n    in husks of darkness\r\n    in the crevices of our souls.\r\n\r\nHere\r\nthe many worlds\r\nin which we simultaneously live\r\nare blending, blurring, running,\r\nrealities washed away\r\nin a slurry of promises\r\nand minimal fulfillments,\r\n\r\nJerusalem\r\n  if I forget --\r\n  already the stones of the Wall\r\n  have receded from memory\r\n  blurring with the dull grey penciled letters\r\n  of the wishes pressed between them.\r\n\r\nThe world to come\r\n  (which has come?\r\n  which was already here?\r\n  Suddenly sequence shatters,\r\n    lies in fragments,\r\n    caught in cracked obeisance\r\n    to the whims of omniscience\r\n    of omnipotence\r\n    of eternity)\r\n  has drawn away,\r\n  and its waters\r\n          which had flowed with life,\r\n    richer than blood,\r\n    sweeter, more nourishing,\r\n    than earthly milk or honey,\r\n  seem no longer to be the mother flow\r\n    of rivers that ran\r\n    at the heart of Eden,\r\n  but are now a barrier,\r\n    the rush of the currents\r\n    now a distant clash\r\n    of hurtling rocks\r\n    and suspended fire.\r\n\r\nThis prayer hall,\r\n        this room sanctified\r\n  by the sacred Presence\r\n  now seems to be --\r\n  a room,\r\n  and the people here are fading\r\n  and their prayers\r\n          sound muffled,\r\n    hidden,\r\n    behind a wall\r\n            of wood and velvet\r\n      silk and leather.\r\n\r\nThe scroll,\r\nwhich had filled our senses\r\nwith its love and passion,\r\n  its touch,\r\n  its writing,\r\n  and the sound of its words,\r\nis now\r\n\r\nsimply\r\n\r\na scroll,\r\na careful but material assemblage\r\n  of skins,\r\n  inks,\r\n  bindings and coverings,\r\n  of tailored cloth\r\n  and etched and hammered metals\r\n\r\nThe doors are closed;\r\nthe majesty, the magic\r\nhas faded.\r\nThe people outside\r\n  this cabinet\r\n  this casket I have become\r\ncannot see the scroll,\r\ncannot feel it\r\n(in this chill of silent solitude\r\n  I cannot even think of it\r\n  as \"her\").\r\nWithout the blessings the observers\r\n  grant to the observed\r\nit is---\r\n\r\na scroll\r\n\r\ninert weight\r\npressing down on my shoulders,\r\n  bending my back,\r\n  pushing on my arms.\r\n\r\nThis temporary flesh\r\nis weaker still\r\nthan that of those\r\n  who are always mortal.\r\n\r\nWe who came here,\r\n  beckoned by song,\r\n  summoned by prayer,\r\nwe who guided\r\n  the Ark of the Presence\r\n  by the waters of the world of dreams --\r\n\r\nI want to go back.\r\nI have no portion here.\r\n\r\nIn the distance,\r\n  I can hear the people chant:\r\n\"A redeemer will come to Zion,\r\n  and to those of Jacob\r\n  who turn from willful sin.\"\r\n\r\nwill come to Zion,\r\nagain summoned to\r\nthis world of flesh and stone \r\n\r\nbut only when ready\r\n  when the redeemer is ready\r\n  when the people are ready \r\n\r\n  at the time\r\n  the one time\r\n  that all times will become.\r\n\r\nFurther away the people spin\r\n  as webs form, fray, fall\r\n  from the congregants\r\n       to the leader\r\n       to the scroll\r\n       to me\r\n\r\n\"Holy, holy, holy...\"\r\n(the words dim and echo\r\nas the leader drifts away)\r\n\r\n\"...is the Lord, Master of Legions...\"\r\n\r\nand as the murmur of the congregants\r\ngrows quiet\r\ntheir words spread, blur, expand\r\ninto larger images,\r\ninto stranger tongues:\r\n\r\n\"Holy in the most exalted heavens,\r\n  the abode of his Presence;\r\nHoly on earth,\r\n  product of his strength;\r\nHoly forever, to all eternity,\r\n     is the Lord, Master of Legions.\"\r\n\r\nThe heavens -- abode of his Presence?\r\n\r\nShe lives here,\r\n  was just here,\r\n  belongs among us.\r\n\r\nThe leader, almost gone,\r\n  almost disappeared,\r\n  speaks again,\r\n  in a voice of faded vapor:\r\n\r\n\"Blessed be the Lord from his place.\"\r\n\r\nAgain, the maddening recursiveness,\r\n        again, the leader blesses the Blessed,\r\n  again I wonder\r\n        why the cycle?\r\n        the reinforcement?\r\n\r\nAnd again the response of the\r\n  barely present congregants,\r\n  in voices softer than the silence:\r\n\r\n\"Blessed be\r\nthe honor of the Lord\r\nfrom the abode of his Presence.\"\r\n\r\nAnd as dreams feed on dreams,\r\ndoubt feeds on doubt\r\nand darkness feeds on darkness\r\n\r\nand I am alone\r\n\r\nand the Presence hides,\r\nsequestered,\r\nelsewhere\r\n\r\nand I look outside myself\r\n  and I see only darkness\r\nand I look around myself\r\n  and everyone is gone\r\nand I look within myself\r\n\r\nwithin this temporary shell\r\n\r\nand farther in,\r\nwithin my soul.\r\n\r\nI know that what I sense\r\n  is not darkness,\r\n    not an absence of light,\r\n    but chaos\r\n    emptiness,\r\n    the murk that preceded creation,\r\n  not silence,\r\n    but how sound sounds\r\n    before it is sounded,\r\n  not vacuum,\r\n    but the feeling, the lack of feeling\r\n    in the lungs\r\n    between breaths\r\n    as the animal mind decides\r\n            whether the next breath\r\n      is to go in or out.\r\n\r\nAnd in this suspension\r\n  this time beyond time\r\n  this shadow of eternity\r\n  that is all times that\r\n    time has failed\r\n    that is --\r\n    no time\r\n\r\nI\r\n\r\nnow\r\n\r\nhave no framework of continuity\r\n  no fabric to lead me\r\n    along its weave\r\n  no signposts\r\n\r\nbut the prayer.\r\n\r\nIf I can tell time\r\n  by the liturgy,\r\ntell time\r\n  not to stand still...\r\n\r\nI call up the pages within my mind,\r\nTurn to the next prayer\r\nI can remember.\r\n\r\nWe must stand\r\n\r\nbut I cannot feel my body,\r\n  cannot find my feet,\r\n    my balance,\r\n    my will,\r\n\r\njust the writing on the waves\r\n  of the current of words\r\n  that begins to travel\r\n  through my parched soul:\r\n\r\n\"It is our duty to praise\r\n  the Master of all...\"\r\n\r\nagain blessing the Blessed,\r\n  who can never be seen,\r\n  whose Presence I now cannot sense\r\n\r\n\"...to give greatness to\r\n  the Shaper of Creation...\"\r\n\r\nagain the paradox\r\n  as I now begin\r\n  to flow with the words\r\n\r\n\"...for he has not made us\r\n  like the nations of the world,\r\nand not planted us\r\n  like the families of the earth...\"\r\n\r\nNot just the earth, no;\r\n  there is a bright time, too,\r\n  dressed as eternity,\r\nthat time which is space\r\n  which is the energy\r\n  which is all that matters\r\n\r\n\"...for he has not designed our destiny\r\n  to be like theirs\r\nnor our lot\r\n  to be like the multitudes...\"\r\n\r\nand we will find that time\r\n  in that future beyond the future\r\n  far from the past\r\n  within the Presence.\r\n\r\n\"...We bend our knees\r\n  and bow\r\n  and acknowledge our thanks...\"\r\n\r\nI cannot bow\r\n  cannot bend my knees\r\n\r\n  for I am silent\r\n  wood.\r\n\r\nStill I try\r\nstill I try and bow\r\nstill I try and\r\n\r\nI am falling\r\n\r\nfalling\r\n\r\ndown\r\naway from heaven\r\ndown toward the earth\r\n  Its solid warming\r\n  Its cool dark loam\r\n\r\ndown\r\n\r\nand I am of the lowest of creatures\r\nof the creatures that crawl\r\n  on the face of the earth.\r\nI have arms but do not reach\r\nI have legs but do not walk\r\n\r\nI must crawl\r\ncrawl forward\r\nwherever forward leads.\r\nI must continue.\r\nI know that I can crawl\r\nand \r\n\r\nspeak\r\n\r\nbut in this darkness\r\nthis void\r\nI have no words of my own.\r\n\r\nStill I must continue.\r\n\r\nAnd the words of the liturgy\r\n  still flow on\r\nproceeding through my mind\r\n  my soul\r\nlike beckoning candles\r\nleading me forward\r\n  if not to a destination\r\n  at least to a future time\r\n\r\nAnd my heart reaches forward\r\n  upward\r\n  outward\r\nand grasps onto the flow of words\r\nand pulls my mind, my soul, my life\r\nonward in their path\r\n\r\nand I imagine God\r\n  and imagine the Presence\r\nand praise them\r\n  who blessed me\r\n  who cursed me\r\n  who brought me here\r\n  who planted me in temporary flesh\r\n\r\n  then subtracted the world\r\n\r\n  and whose images\r\n    though they may or may not exist\r\n  pull me through this mire\r\n    of the absence of night\r\n\r\nand I speak\r\n  in desperation\r\n  in pleading\r\n  in proclamation\r\n  in prayer\r\nto\r\n\r\n\"...the King who reigns over kings,\r\nthe Holy One, who is blessed,\r\nwho stretched out the heavens,\r\nand founded the earth,\r\nwhose seat of glory is in the heavens above,\r\nand whose powerful Presence\r\n  is in the loftiest heights...\"\r\n\r\nand I crawl onward, forward\r\n\r\nand the darkness is no longer\r\n  quite so deep\r\nand the silence is no longer\r\n  quite so deafening\r\nand the Presence seems no longer\r\n  quite so far away\r\n\r\nand I continue to bless the Blessed one\r\n  that his love may yet reappear\r\nand I pray for the touch of the Presence\r\n\r\nand I continue\r\n\r\nblessing the Blessed\r\n\r\nand I crawl on\r\n  crawl under\r\n  crawl through\r\n\r\n  the heart of the paradox\r\n\r\nblessing\r\n\r\nblessing the Blessed\r\n\r\nand I enter the circuit\r\n  the path of the process\r\n  the oscillations\r\n    between Creator and Created\r\n\r\nand I pray\r\nas if I am the last person left in this world\r\n  who knows how to pray\r\n  who cares to pray\r\nas if my prayer is the last strand\r\n  binding me to our people\r\n    our people to the Presence\r\n    the Presence to the Lord,\r\n      the Blessed One,\r\n      who is Blessed\r\nas words of ancient incantations\r\n  spring back up into my soul\r\n\r\n\"for the sake of the unification\r\n  of the Holy One, who is Blessed,\r\n  and his Presence,\r\nin fear and love,\r\nto unify the Name\r\n  in perfect unity\r\n  in the name of all Israel\"\r\n\r\nand I reach forward,\r\n  my arms becoming arms again,\r\n  my legs becoming legs,\r\n  my heart beginning once again\r\n    to beat in human rhythms\r\n    to join the pulse, the meter\r\n    of the overtones of the heart of God\r\n\r\nand I grasp onto the words,\r\nthe words that form a healing chain\r\na never-ending ring of blessing\r\n\r\nand they draw me upward\r\n  that I might stand\r\n  and fulfill my mission\r\n  here in this prison\r\n    this sudden uniform\r\n    this celebrant solidity\r\n    this human flesh\r\n  and that I may return\r\n  to the land where I belong\r\n  that I might wait\r\n  in that time beyond time.\r\n\r\nAnd in the silence\r\n  that is now merely silence\r\nin the darkness\r\n  that promises the light\r\nthe still voices return\r\n  the congregants\r\n    infinitely distant\r\n    yet still here\r\n  the leader\r\n    voice transmuted\r\n    to tones purer than music\r\n  the Presence\r\n    still unseen, still unsensed\r\n    yet comforting, warming\r\n      as if she and I were nestled\r\n      in each other\u0092s hearts\r\n      in each other\u0092s arms\r\n\r\nand the silence whispers:\r\n\"Do not fear the sudden terror\r\n  or the storm that strikes the wicked...\r\n  For God is with us.\r\nThrough your old age, I will remain the same;\r\n  when you turn grey, I will endure.\r\nI created you, and I will carry you;\r\n  I will sustain you and save you.\"\r\n\r\nAnd I stand\r\n\r\nI stand\r\n\r\nand speak the ancient words of praise\r\n  the words of prayer\r\n    that brought us to this world\r\n  the mystic words\r\n    in a near-forgotten language\r\n\r\nin the voice of our teachers\r\nin the voice of our leaders\r\nin the voice of our martyrs\r\nin the voice of our mourners\r\nin the voice of those\r\n  who may or may not believe\r\n    but yet,\r\n      if they can speak no other prayer,\r\n      have somehow learned\r\n        to say these words\r\n\r\nblessing the Blessed\r\nwho (in the mystery of wisdom\r\nif not the law of logic)\r\nis, indeed, to be blessed.<\/pre>\n
(return to Shekhinah: the Presence)<\/a><\/em><\/strong><\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
(return to Shekhinah: the Presence) Click on the image to your right >> to purchase Shekhinah: the Presence. >> Section 8 of “Shekhinah: The Presence” by Joseph Zitt This is an unedited scan of the text, courtesy of Josh Ronsen – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – … Continue reading “Shekhinah: Alenu (Our Duty)”<\/span><\/a><\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"parent":35,"menu_order":8,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","template":"","meta":{"footnotes":""},"class_list":["post-105","page","type-page","status-publish","hentry"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"http:\/\/www.josephzitt.com\/home\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/pages\/105","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"http:\/\/www.josephzitt.com\/home\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/pages"}],"about":[{"href":"http:\/\/www.josephzitt.com\/home\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/page"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/www.josephzitt.com\/home\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/www.josephzitt.com\/home\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=105"}],"version-history":[{"count":5,"href":"http:\/\/www.josephzitt.com\/home\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/pages\/105\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":444,"href":"http:\/\/www.josephzitt.com\/home\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/pages\/105\/revisions\/444"}],"up":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/www.josephzitt.com\/home\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/pages\/35"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"http:\/\/www.josephzitt.com\/home\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=105"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}