In the silence
And the emptiness
Where the religious fear to enter
Where words no longer carry meaning
Where meaning and absurdity merge
In this space
Of double entendres
Incarnation is just a theologically loaded term
And finally the divine and human within are
indistinguishable
And whether the tzimstum is to be read as real or not
And whether it ever made any difference
Over two centuries of internecine battle
As if allegory, metaphor or metymony made any
Bloody difference to the world outside the ivory tower
Of Talmudics.
In this post post space
Of emptiness
I wait for something
To bubble up
Something real and felt
In the gut.
I stop everything
Dead in the tracks
No more ritual without inner feeling
No more blabbering
To the power above
Genuflecting words of praise
As the mind chatters on simultaneously
And the monkey and the kritik battle away in the head.
This moratorium of heresy
This absence of the frantic daily quota of texts
The blackout of words of cleverness and exegesis
Leaves me dizzy.
So I wait
For the first experience of the belly emptied
Of cultural-religious stuff.
