Religion is one of those subjects best left off the table.
You keep to your beliefs and I’ll keep to mine and we’ll get along just fine, yes indeed.
But years go by…
Beliefs evolve and mature, as an aging soul takes stock. The outcome: a realization that time is slipping ever so quickly past and that what there is left is all there is.
Time to make the best of what I’ve got.
I find that I no longer care to get along. Haven’t, in fact, cared for almost two decades. But I’m polite, sociable, so I’ve kept my mouth shut for the most part. Carried my beliefs in my innermost being and trudged along like everything was just fine on the exterior.
I’m saddened, you see.
I’m bereft and disconnected.
My people, my community, is not to be found.
I’m a functional silo, like the others who believe as I do, with our only support system one that is as tenuous as the continued strength of the electrical grid and the satellite system.
Our “community” is who we are – individuals pocketed and scattered hither and thither, singular souls taking stance in a world of difference and indifference.
It creates a sorrow like no other, an ache for what has been lost since before the first Israelite temple was built, before the first king was chosen:
The community of the Hebrews, comprised of twelve tribes and the Levites, all ruled by the Priests. The Aaronic priests, who were the sole recipients, the sole keepers, the sole instructors for God’s words. A community whose rules included full acceptance of strangers, like me, who stumbled across and took as oath the wholehearted beauty of a system entirely dependent upon the Rule of God.
Mesmerizing in its perfect simplicity, it has created a longing, a desire for a thing that I don’t believe I will ever live to see.
That’s the reason for the sorrow, the ache.
Dreams dependent on people who are blind to their roles.
My role is to be a common man, the role of the twelve tribes and the stranger – no gender bias, just simplicity – and to fulfill my daily role of living a life commanded by God through Torah, relayed by the Priests, sons of Aaron.
I’ll keep my role. I’ll not waver from it.
But damn, it’s lonely out here.