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The Ache That Will Not Go Away

Picture taken by Margalit, November 9, 2016
Western Wall

Even when I do not seek out the idea of going back to the Holy Land, I cannot avoid the reminders.

Thumb through today’s Readings.

Jerusalem.

Israel.

Zion.

Lion of Judah.

Root of David.

The Scroll.

I will return. The Land calls to me. It reminds me of all that has happened, of all that will happen. It tells me a story.

A story of a King and a Land and a realm to come.

The story of holy and the evil that cannot drive it out.

The story of a Lion who is also a Lamb.

Trees with branches and roots that go deeper than one could ever imagine.

A Scroll, with words that can only be read by the One, as the Elders bow and a crystal sea shines brighter than the sun over the Mediterranean Sea.

A hillside where the bodies wait for the Messiah and the new shoots feed off of old olive trees, older than the readings in my Missal.

Old as the first Covenant.

But not as old as the One who Was and Is and Is To Come.

 

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