(Don’t) Be Like Moses

B”H, the following is scheduled to be delivered by me at today’s Yom Kippur service in Sonoma. Take from it what you will, or leave it be.

TO PARAPHRASE ANOTHER FAITH’S holiday greeting, “Teshuva [repentance, return] is the reason for the season.” What I want to tell you about is a rather embarrassing teshuva of my own.

First, let me take you back to an exciting day in our people’s history: the consecration of the Tabernacle, the portable wilderness tent containing the ark with the Ten Commandments, and where Moses spoke with G?d for the rest of the prophet’s life.

On that day, according to chapter 9 of Leviticus, a most wondrous thing happened: after the ritual offerings had been slaughtered and placed atop the altar, fire came forth from the Tabernacle and consumed them.

The people all shouted and fell on their faces – I mean, wouldn’t you? But their joy lasted only a moment.

In the very next verse, and for reasons that have been debated for millennia, Aaron’s sons Nadav and Avihu made an unauthorized incense offering. Fire then came forth from the Tabernacle – and consumed them.

Moses, perhaps moved by brotherly concern, tells Aaron that “This is what יהוה meant by saying: ‘Through those near to Me I show Myself holy and gain glory before all the people.’” In other words, “Somebody had to demonstrate how seriously we must take having the literal Presence of G?d in our midst – and how important it is to get things right.”

The Torah then tells us: “And Aaron was silent.”

Prosatio Silban and the Perfect Colleague

TRYING TO HOLD A CANDLE to someone else is the quickest way to extinguish your own flickering flame.

“And then the High Sacreant herself complimented me on yet another job well done,” Egotio Nys said, lifting his expensive drink and smiling benevolently. “‘It’s what I’m here for, Eminence,’ I told her. You all know how hard she is to please.”

The speaker was holding court at the back bar in Pelvhi’s Chopping-House, surrounded by an admiring throng of well-wishers, which is to say, everyone in the tavern.

Well, not quite everyone.

Inevitable (Itieration #3 in the Heavy-Handed Environmentalism Series)

DESPITE HIS SUDDENLY POUNDING HEARTBEAT, the president’s face remained calm. “Say that again,” he said in his best imitation of a steady voice.

His chief of staff looked as though she would faint. “We have discovered ruins on Venus,” she repeated. “And not primitive ones, either. Actual cities. Roads. Industry. An entire civilization, not all that different from ours, once existed there. And more than existed – it thrived.”

“For a while, anyway,” the science advisor spoke up. “Tell him about the launch sites.”

“‘Launch sites?’” echoed the president.

Word to Bring Back: “Privacy”

– Definition: n. the quality or state of being apart from company or observation
– Used in a sentence: American culture’s “instant celebrity” fixation is playing hob with the basic concept of privacy.
– Why: Duh.

Prosatio Silban and the Blank Tyranny

ARTISTRY IN ONE ARENA DOES not always guarantee artistry in another.

“My proposal is a simple one,” the young man said. “Grant your endorsement, in a few choice words, of my latest cookbook, New Tastes of Pormaris. It is a simple matter of between three to five hundred words. Should take you less than a day, if even that long. What say you?”

Prosatio Silban’s mind raced for the softest possible protest. Belio Pharval was the eldest son of a professional acquaintance from Pelvhi’s Chopping-House. A nice enough fellow in his own right, but his request was a bit far afield for the cook-errant – whose heart thumped as he weighed the situation.

What do I know about writing? he thought. For that matter, what do I know of this lad? True, his mother credits him with verbal skill and cooking talent; he can turn a fair phrase or flavorsome dish at need. But how far goes my social obligation to his mother? And how many others might come seeking the same favor? I cannot. I must not. I shall not. How can I?

“Of course I will,” he heard himself reply. “By when, did you say?”

Posse Commentatus (An Alpha-Nerd Manifesto)

(Originally posted 2007.06.28)

IN THE BEGINNING was the Text. But not for long.

The Text – definer and exemplar, authority and comfort, platform and trampoline – was no ordinary collection of words. It spoke of history and possibility, treated miracles as though they were commonplace and elevated the commonplace above the miraculous. Its basic gist was that humanity matters, even if humanity couldn’t always understand why.

Yet while the Text was finite (after all, its Author had to stop writing somewhere) it did contain the seeds of an infinite perpetuation, though not in the most obvious of ways.