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out words from his speech. I can tell he is not used to teaching.
He is struggling with the simplification of these concepts. The
rhythm of his speech accelerates, and I feel that if I don’t slow him down soon, he will be
lost in this Zoharic lecture for eternity. “Wait a minute, I am beginning to lose you. What do all those characteristics mean? When does he use which one?” I raise my head slightly sideways and peak at his work. Herman pauses. He looks at the piece in front of him. He scrapes off a piece of the left foot with a thin metal tool, leaving a perfect arch between my big toe and my heel. He cleans the tool of the scrap clay. He sighs in frustration. “I am sorry if I am getting carried away. The Zohar formulates a mathematical system that maps God’s behavior. It is too complicated for me to explain to you now. The point that I am trying to make is that this Kabbalist book reveals the complex nature of God. And more importantly, it teaches that this system of personal consciousness is the common element of God and man.” I lower my head back to my ankles. I stop questioning. I silently absorb and I allow Herman to focus on his work. No more words are spoken for the remainder of this session. I close my eyes. I think of God. I place faces on him for once in my life instead of just a cloud. I borrow different features from famous Hollywood actors, cartoon characters, my friends. By the end of the session, I have formed a picture of God, built as a collage of many different characters: a Brad Pitt baby face with thin blond hair gathered in a pony tail; a wide Mickey Mouse smile with a Cuban cigar dangling from his lower lip; Steven’s smooth chest with a Star of David nipple piercing; God, how I loved touching Steven’s tender chest before he left me to go travel theworld. I freeze this iconoclastic image of God in my mind and laugh inside at this stupid game of mine. I erase the image. |
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