בלוג

If I were to gaze into the Pardes*, I would see a forest of twenty-four formidable pomegranate trees: aged, tall, strong, thick, and weathered. They would be bearing sixty myriads of pomegranates altogether. Above, various birds could be seen chirping, hopping from branch to branch; wings flapping over nests as worms were dropped into the mouths of the babes. Below, between the tree trunks, could be seen various small animals: a scorpion staring into the eyes of a cricket, a hare with its head down a hole, a fox hiding behind a tree and a squirrel beginning to climb.

(*could be translated: paradise, orchard, garden, jungle...)

After passing through the trees, I would come to a large pond or small lake. It would be filled with gleaming, clear water — perfectly still and stationary, without a wave or a ripple, only sparkly reflections of sunlight here and there . On the other side of the pond I would see a large, towering waterfall; at the top of the cliff, in a cloud of fog, I'd be able to see the back of a mysterious throne, clothed in so many colours, many of which I never knew existed. The occupant of the throne would not be visible from my vantage-point.

Looking around, I would notice various persons. The first one to catch my eye would be the young, unfortunate man, struggling in vain, drowning in a whirlpool off to the right. Any time he'd manage to get his head above water I'd hear him cry, "Mayim, mayim! Water, water!"

Off to the far left, at the edge of my field of vision, I'd notice another man with a face similar to the drowning man's. His shirt untucked, one sandal removed and the other unbuckled but still on his foot, and kippah in hand, he would stand at the edge of the water, staring down at it. With a confused expression, he'd stand there without moving.

Midway between the edge of the water and the waterfall I'd see a man in a row-boat, rowing forcefully towards the shore. He'd have a bare, balding head and an angry expression on his face, and if I looked carefully I might see his kippah, his tzitzith and his tephillin sitting (not sinking) on the water behind his boat as he rowed away.

Then I'd notice a man, tall, strong and confident, almost at the top of the waterfall. I'd be amazed — for him, the water was in fact a solid marble wall. Finding pieces of rock jutting out from the side, he'd be scaling the wall like a rock-climber. He'd be moving with agility normally only found in people half his age. He'd be nearing the top, high enough to be able to peak over the edge. Strangely, though he'd be constantly climbing, he'd never actually reach the top; despite being aware of this, he wouldn't seem frustrated, and would never stop climbing. If I listened closely I might make out his voice, clearly enunciating a verse from the Bible: "...he who speaks falsehoods will not be established before My eyes." (Psalms 101:7)

I'd think I'd seen everything and be about to return to my normal reality, when I'd notice another person, standing at the edge of the water. Delicate, and so graceful — at first she might almost seem like part of the landscape, not a lowly damaged human like the others, but clearly noticeable to those who cared to look for her. Fascinated, I'd look at her more closely: Her body — slim and expertly proportioned, though a tad on the short side. Her cherub-like face — boasting a smile of fascination mixed with confidence, hope, and innocence. Cascading down her back — long curly brown hair that conveys a still-short yet rich lifetime of knowledge and experience. Her bare shoulders slightly arched with humility, yet clearly muscular with the confidence of an athlete. She'd have a large, white towel wrapped around her, as if about to bathe. One leg would be extended to the 'water', yet surprisingly her foot would find it to be solid and rest on its surface as if it were a sheet of glass. Rays of light would reflect off her painted toe-nails and the crystalline surface, mingling together in perfect harmony. I would hear her let out a youthful laugh. Perhaps I'd hear her telling the puzzled lizard which just emerged from the grass to get a better look at her, "Marble looks nothing like water!"

I would decide never to leave. I may not be able to cross that pond on my own; certainly I'd never even attempt to scale the waterfall. But I'd stay close-by and watch her with admiration.

She will be my wife.

And perhaps one day,

she'll take me across the pond

on her shoulders.

( Source: Babylonian Talmud, Hagigah 14b )