“Your business in this world is not to assure the salvation of a soul thirsty for peace; nor is it to provide your body with the advantages of money. Your business is the quest for an unknowable destiny. It is for this that you must struggle with a hatred of the limits that the codes of propriety oppose to freedom. It is for this that you will arm yourself with a secret pride and an indomitable will.The advantages that chance has given you – your beauty, your glamour and the impulsiveness of your life – are all necessary for your laceration. Of course, this testimony won’t be fully revealed: the light emanating from you could be compared to the moonlight falling on a sleeping countryside. Nevertheless, the wretchedness of your nudity, and the trance your body falls into when aroused by being nude, will be enough to destroy the image of a limited destiny for human beings. In the same way that lightning when it strikes opens its truth in those it touches, eternal death, revealed in the pleasures of the flesh, will reach the elect few. It is with these that you will enter into a night where everything human is lost, for only the vastness of a darkness hidden from the servitudes of the day could conceal a light so dazzling.Thus, although in the alleluia of nudity, you are not yet at the summit where truth is revealed in its entirety. Beyond the delirium of ecstasy you will still need to laugh, entering into the shadow of death. At this moment the bonds binding you to everything solid will dissolve and unravel. I don’t know whether you’ll laugh or cry, discovering your countless sisters in the sky.”
Georges Bataille (1897-1962) – L’Alleluiah, catéchisme de Dianus (1947)
“One of the controversies in the Talmud includes the discussion about whether or not Moshe Rabbeinu wrote the last eight lines in the Torah describing his own death (Bava Basra 15a): Moshe, the servant of G-d, died there in the Land of Moav, as G-d commanded. He buried him in the valley of Moav opposite Beit Peor, and no man knows his burial place unto this day ..(Devarim 34:5) According to Rebi Yehudah in the Talmud, Yehoshua bin Nun completed the Torah for Moshe. However, Reb Shimon disagrees: Is it conceivable that Moshe, the greatest prophet that ever existed, who did the impossible by receiving the Torah from G-d Himself, did not receive and write every word of the Torah? On the other hand, does it make sense that Moshe wrote about his own death? Yes, says Reb Shimon-with a "tear" in his eye. The Talmud doesn't really indicate whose opinion is more valid, and for this reason, later commentaries also debate the issue. On one side of the disagreement, there is the Chacham Tzvi, Reb Eibeshitz, and the Torah Temima who side with Reb Yehudah, while the Ritvah, the Ain Ya'akov, the Maharsha, the Mizrachi, and the Maharal, all hold like Reb Shimon. The Arizal himself seems to indicate that Moshe wrote the words himself. The Vilna Gaon writes that there is a way for both points of view to be correct. According to the Gra, Moshe did receive the entire Torah from beginning until the end, and wrote the entire Torah down-on Har Sinai. But wait a second-Har Sinai occurred forty years before the end of Moshe's death, and before many of the stories that had yet to occur Did Moshe know everything that was supposed to happen in the future at the time he received the Torah, and simply acted as if he hadn't? Yes, and no, says the Gra. Moshe did possess all the stories in advance of their happening, but, didn't know what they were until after G-d told him. The reason is because Moshe received the entire Torah at one time in a very long stream of letters, only to be broken up into their proper words and paragraphs at the right time, at G-d's command-after the event occurred-an amazing miracle. This would mean that Moshe received the "letters" that would eventually describe his own death, but, that it fell to Yehoshua to form the actual words that described his Rebbe's death for all the generations to read and mourn. But what about the fact that R. Shimon said that Moshe wrote the last eight lines about his death "b'dimah," with a tear in his eye? The answer is that in truth, "dimah" can actually also mean "mixed up." In other words, when Moshe wrote about his death, it was in "mixed up" form. Instead of following the usual protocol of repeating the Torah and then transcribing it, a distraught Moshe does not reiterate the final verses. Moreover, instead of ink, Moshe uses less permanent tears to record these sorrowful last 8 verses.[1] Intensive mourning also interferes with the process of revelation. Another interpretation of this passage offered by the Vilna Gaon (In aderet Eliyahu) may have a similar connotation. According to the Gra, Moshe wrote the final verses bedema-(with tears) bedimua—(with confusion) that is, in confusion and out of order. Perhaps these two interpretations of R. Shimon’s teaching converge: Moshe, writing in tears of sorrow, wrote a confused Torah. For the Torah of trauma and irreparable loss is one of chaos and confusion.[2]”
Finding myself suddenly weeping
unexpectedly
in the middle of nowhere
no trigger
no obvious cause
A weeping welling up from interior dark spaces
(really, do we need to go there yet again
examined a thousand times
wounds still raw…
despite endless analysis)
No, this weeping seems to have come from a different place
a place of no-hope,
of finding no-love,
and a realization that all along there had been no-connection.
A place of ultimate darkness and dread,
a knife-edged living, on this razor sharp perch,
with the possibility of falling any moment
into the abyss, for any given trigger.
Of no longer being able to fight off the enemy,
having struggled too long,
and the unravelling of decades of self-deception.
Weeping for the childish dreams that never materialized
yet which formed the very basis of my existence and yearning and hope
the adolescent love that exhausted me for months on end but never fulfilled
even now.
For the illusion that in all that effort the profit had meant something
the growing realization that all the so-called accomplishments meant for naught
nothing lasting,
no trace of this life,
no legacy or self worth-worth preserving.
A grief so deep,
for a life thus wasted
having fooled so many for so long
(or maybe not),
now no longer able to keep the mirage
the prosecutor is fully apprised
the mirror is now cracked
revealing a Dorian Grey of immense decrepitude
and senile rotting.
This life
this text
this pursuit of unattainable goals,
all the neurotic obsessive pursuit of texts, tractates, treatises, sermons
thinking delusion-ally
that somehow some answer, some awakening, would magically
calm and alleviate the original wound,
yet in the end evoked no response,
no lightness of being
no inspirational light
no internalization of ideals morals or role models.
leaving me only mistrust of Rabbis lecturers, mentors
and the gnawing Doubting Thomas pointing into the fleshy bloody wound.
