Bull Dawg Chanukah

Detour

The old man stood outside the city gates. A warm breeze passed on by and his silver beard glittered in the midday sun. The smell of incense and sacrifices filled the air. The sounds of singing and instruments were heard from afar.

As he gazed back at the hills and the olive groves, at the homes and their children, he was reminded of his recurring dreams. In the dead of night, in nightmares ever so real, the old man had seen the great city walls breached, families massacred and then the unfathomable; g-d’s Temple destroyed. He felt it was his destiny, a g-d given mission, to do all that he can to be a savior of the city and her now rebuilt temple of glory.

In the distance he now had his first glimpse of the marching legions. His body shuttered and his mind uncontrollably wandered. Quietly he prayed. He prayed that his knees would not buckle and that his voice would be heard. He hoped and wished he would withstand and soon return; both the city and he untouched.

The horses came to a halt and when the dust had settled the general dismounted his horse and slowly walked towards the old man. The old man calmly stood his ground. Undaunted he could not believe his eyes. This man of war, whose name alone placed fear in every living man. This victorious hero, who led forty five thousand men in conquering most of earth, was but only a child. Neither a scar nor a beard was visible on his adolescent face.

Suddenly, unexpected, the general stopped and bowed before the old man.
Amongst the forty five thousand men, from Egypt to India, across ten thousand miles of bloodshed and conquest, not one could remember the general ever bowing before another man.
"Your honor, why is it you bow before this mortal being?” quietly, in a surprised tone, the general’s advisor did ask.
“It is not to this formation of flesh and blood that I bow. I bow to the g-d that created him, that honored him with high priesthood and donned him in these garments. For in a dream I have seen this man. I have seen him in the very apparel he wears today. “

The general took his dream and now the meeting with the old man as an omen; a sign of good fortune. The earth beneath the old man shook as the general and his legions carried on their way; the city and its inhabitants unmolested.

Tears of relief flowed from the old man. He breathed what felt like his first honest breath of the day. He lifted his arms and face towards heaven and smiled. He no longer felt so alone. He faithfully represented his people, he embodied his bloodline. True the land would be absorbed, but in a benign conquest.

The old man reentered the city. The smell of incense now completely filled his nostrils. The sounds of singing and instruments pierced the air. He prostrated before the temple. Today, he was a witness to continuance. G-d did not turn his back on his only child.

Welcome Home.

I see him walk the winter worn streets. Nameless he blends amongst those that walk along and those that walk by.

He looks for the smiles and the welcoming arms. But here, within the generalization, in a home far from home, they are hard to find.

He wants to teach and inspire. But so do the others, others whose desires are resembling or even stronger then his. They sing and dance just as he does. They are even more outrageous then him.

He yearns for a news day’s challenge; a test, a quota. Things he despised until last year. But today is a continuation from yesterday and tomorrow a continuation from today.

He misses being needed as an individual; being appreciated for his caring deeds.

Was it the shining sun that gave him a name?
Was it open minded friends that made him feel heard?
Was it widened space that set him free?

The past is not coming back and that only makes the night more quiet and uneventful.
So he aimlessly continues to walk. The cold winds are new to him. Begrudgingly he looks right and left, high and low, for a place to land.

He disappears down the street. I know, shortly he will come to a stop and realize that the street light can shine directly on him. He will learn even in black one can choose a lighter or darker shade. Compliments don’t always must be received. They are better when given. He will create his own welcoming arms and embrace others.

We all want to be heard. But some times we also must listen.
If not for life, at least for our next journey.

Already missed.

חג הגאולה

Almost robotic we danced in circles. Outside the winter chill was on its course, but inside the warmth took presence as the singing and dancing became livelier.
To my right a teen with side curls gripped my shoulder as we jumped up and down. To my left an older gentleman without a beard used one hand to hold his cup of vodka and his other hand waved wildly in the air. Surrounding us, men with pained faces and worried eyes sat heavily and watched. Starving for information they quietly waited.

Finally, news. Men ran in with cell phones in their hands. Pointing to their phones, shouting in jubilation “They are alive…. Both of them alive!”

Instantly the dancing grew increasingly more intense. The news circled. Announcements were made. My side curl friend was now on the floor somersaulting. My other friend was getting a refill. I closed my eyes as sweat and tears irritatingly mixed. Until our lungs became sore over and over we repeated in song “For your miracles, for your wonders and for your salvations.”
The horrific news that engulfed us all day, now escaped from every pore of our bodies.
We were threatened but we withstood. We were attacked but we survived. G-d and good prevailed.

That night I slept. I dreamt of how the rejoicing had only begun.

The next morning I woke. My throat was dry and my legs ached.
All turned black and the world stopped. “They are dead…. Both of them dead!”
I tried to ignore reality, but it was too true. The previous night’s elation was now a rumor of the past.
The world began to move again, but ever so painfully slow.
What else is there to say?