The selfishness of punishment

[isidore_excolo]

Tevet 27
Days before the new moon
Day 227
The Abbey
Late afternoonI have watched the confusion grow here, watched men forget their childhoods and women forget their adulthoods, monks forget their Goddess and parishioners forget their families

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[al_shairan]

A few hours have passed.

I remember Time; I remember its beginning (θεὸς ἦν ὁ λόγος). I do not know if I remember being in it. I am aware of this body decaying moment by moment. It is an unsettling feeling, although not altogether unpleasant. I think perhaps there is something lovely in it, the inevitability of death.

I remember death, too, and it makes me think of عزرائيل. I would like to discuss this with my fellow, who understands this mortality better than I, for it is allotted to zhim. Perhaps I shall seek out عزرائيل after this. Whatever this place is. It is familiar to me, yet not, as is my own mind. I remember much of this world, but I do not remember my role in it. There is a blank where I should be. It is - I do not know what. I feel quite uncertain, and confused. Perhaps it is the fault of this body. Human beings are limited, this I know. We are greater than they, and it would make sense that we cannot be contained properly by their flesh. Perhaps I cannot be who I am in this body. I feel something which I think is panic, and for a moment the edges of this body unravel, but I stitch them back together. There is a reason. Of course there is a reason. I have faith. O Love.

Oh Love.

It sings out of me, a high bright note that rings out like the breaking day, and for a moment I think I hear the soft sounding of a bell. It is gone, but I am satisfied. You are there, O Love. I will walk in this body, and I will work out what it is You want.

I go out into the town. I am wearing a tight coat over a shirt and breeches. I have the sense that this was a fashion long ago, so I do not know why I wear it now. The shine of my boots is strangely comforting.

I walk out through the snow. It is beginning to melt, and in places it is dirty, but O, this world, this world, this imperfect world. It is a love poem, and I find I am crying. People look at me as I pass, and I dab at my streaming eyes absently and smile at them. My smile seems to make them fall back. Perhaps it is too bright.

In the town I sense a place that is - holy, yes. Not a home for the Highest, but it has a sheen to it that reminds me of θεὸς ἦν ὁ λόγος (I am singing again, I realise; a woman I pass in the street starts weeping). I go inside it, and there are people milling about outside. A woman walks very carefully. Her feet are broken. I could fix them, I know that suddenly. But perhaps she likes them as they are. She approaches a serious-faced man, a priest by his look, and asks him for help. I am curious, and decide to ask her what she is looking for.

"nǐ zài zhǎo shénme?" I say with a smile, and I turn to the man. "Good morrow, priest," I say respectfully. "Is your goddess here? If she is, I would be pleased to speak with her." It would be a start to meet the little nin of this place.

[isidore_excolo]

The woman I was introduced to before, the prostitute, approaches me from the main building as I stand in the yard. "Qǐngwén? Nǐ néng bāngzhù wǒ ma?" I have heard words like those west of the holy land, and I struggle to remember a reply. "Wo bu hui putonghua" I reply, my voice lacking the music in hers.

"nǐ zài zhǎo shénme?" I turn and gasp, his presence making me stagger. Chayot. He smiles and even directed away from me it burns. But they serve El, not Asherah, and so this cannot be for El has abandoned us. "Good morrow, priest," he says, greeting me. "Is your goddess here? If she is, I would be pleased to speak with her."

This is worse almost than Asherah's touch as she brought me apart, and yet there is such divinity to him that I feel blessed.

"Nanshe is the goddess here," I manage. "I do not yet know if she is my goddess. If you would speak with her, I think you would seek her best in dreams."

[lei_miao_shan]

The pale man turns to me and speaks in a halting fashion, just enough words to tell me that he cannot speak my tongue. Ah, what misfortune. But perhaps we can communicate in other ways. I am trying to imagine how I can tell him of my troubles when I sense a presence behind me. A beautiful man, tall and golden and regal, radiating power like heat. But there is such kindness in his eyes that I immediately relax in his presence, and when he smiles at me how can I help but return it? "Nǐ zài zhǎo shénme?" he asks me gently, and ah, but I am so very glad. He speaks to the pale man in English, but I can scarce understand a word.

Whatever they are saying, I instinctively move towards the tall man, "Wǒ mílù le," I say to him, and I am, but truly, my troubles run far deeper than my simple location. I take another step towards him, for I trust this man, though I have only just met him. "Qǐng nǐ," I say softly.

[al_shairan]

"Nanshe is the goddess here. I do not yet know if she is my goddess. If you would speak with her, I think you would seek her best in dreams."

"I think I do not sleep," I say, after I consider this for a moment. "But thank you for your answer."

The crippled woman moves toward me. She looks so very anxious, poor broken thing. They are all broken here; Man is crippled by his own limitations. I wish I could remember why κύριε made them. She speaks to me hesitantly, and I wonder if perhaps Man exists because of this sympathy I feel. Perhaps Love wanted to feel that, for my kin and I are too blessed to need it. The woman tells me she is lost, and I step forward and put my arm around her.

At the touch of her skin I feel such a revulsion-desire-sorrow I almost cry out, but I keep my arm around her and my face still. What is she to call this up in me? I think it is her flesh. Her flesh reminds me of ... I do not know what. And this body I am in seems to feel so very many things. Its feelings are blunted - my mind is clouded by being inside it - but it has so many feelings. I do not think I have names for them all. Perhaps that is partly why I am in this body. Perhaps ربّ wishes me to learn what it is that Man feels.

"Do not be afraid," I say to the woman in her own language. There are so many languages, although I seem to know them all. "We shall help you."

I look back at the solemn-faced man who is not, after all, a priest.

"She says she is lost," I tell him. I look at him thoughtfully, and I notice a shadow on him. "And so are you," I say. "You are cursed, like Cain," I add simply. "What did you do?"

[isidore_excolo]

He pauses. "I think I do not sleep, but thank you for your answer." I manage to climb out of my shock. He still shines, but I think he is lost. Can they become lost? If El has vanished, does that mean the Mal'akim are wandering the earth, as lost as us?

The question is not heresy, not now. But it is disturbing still.

Emotions flash over his face as the woman, Miao, walks to him and as he places an around around her. He speaks to her, and then looks back to me. "She says she is lost," he explains. "And so are you," he says, peering at me. "You are cursed, like Cain. What did you do?"

Like - do I bear a mark, then? If someone raised their hand to me, would Asherah strike them down? It is not a question that can be answered, for I have always survived. I do not think she would stay their hand when I could save myself.

"Yes," I admit. "I betrayed Asherah-most-high, broke my vows. And so I will break them again, and again." I do not ask forgiveness, not from this Chayot. I nod to Miao. "Is she cursed, too, or does she truly not know where she is?"

[lei_miao_shan]

The tall, golden man, he comes to me, and he wraps his arm around my shoulders, as though to give me warmth. I feel a shudder run through his body, as a horse will shiver its skin when a fly lands, but his face is blank and he does not pull away. I am glad, for his touch is a great comfort to me. He tells me not to be afraid, and he says that they will help me, and I trust him. I trust them both.

They speak together, and whatever the golden man says, it seems to trouble the pale man greatly. Eventually he looks at me and nods, and says something else that seems perhaps to be a question.

I look to the golden man, for he is the only one who can understand me. "I can remember nothing," I say to him, my voice hestitant. "My memory is gone, everything down to my own name. I am very frightened."

[al_shairan]

I betrayed Asherah-most-high, broke my vows. And so I will break them again, and again. Is she cursed, too, or does she truly not know where she is?"

"Your state is a sad one," I say. "I do not know your Asherah," I say. I will not call this little nin most high. I remember a golden calf, and my lip curls up momentarily. "This woman is not cursed," I say, "unless we all are." Perhaps Man is cursed, but I am not a man, and I have forgotten much of myself. I would not be cursed. Surely.

"My memory is gone, everything down to my own name. I am very frightened."

"That is not true, friend," I say with a smile. "You remember how to speak, how to walk, how to breathe. These things are precious, are they not? And I think you are not alone in forgetting. Something has happened here." I look about the abbey. "The dead are walking," I add to the priest-who-is-not. "Something like the dead, at least." I wish عزرائيل were here to tell me what that boy is.

I let go of the woman, and I take the man's hand and put it in hers.

"I think this man will be kind," I say to her, and I look at the man. "I will not ask you to promise to care for her, because then I know you would fail," I say, quite sadly. What a curse to bear. "But I hope that without a vow you can be kind."

[isidore_excolo]

"Your state is a sad one," the Chayot says to me. "I do not know your Asherah," he adds, and there is a sudden sheen of contempt which shadows his divinity. He does not know her? Truly, the Mal'akim must have become lost.

"This woman is not cursed," he explains, "unless we all are." I think he might be, this wandering mal'ak, but I shy away from speaking my thought.

He speaks to her, and then looks at me again. "The dead are walking. Something like the dead, at least." I nod, slowly. "Thank you, Chayot." I look about, but if they are near they are hidden from my sight.

"I will not ask you to promise to care for her, he tells me, placing my hand in hers. She feels soft through my gloves. "Because then I know you would fail." I do not flinch, for all he is right. "But I hope that without a vow you can be kind."

"I shall strive to," I say, the words coming unbidden, and I look upon her in sadness, for the breaking of my vow to come.

There is a chill, and then warmth, and then there is a boy, or young man, with his hand on ours. "I am Konrad," he claims proudly. "You look cold. Perhaps today is not a day for talking in the garden."

I do not react, for it or he does not seem to mean Miao harm, but I am wary. The dead should be dead, and shades rarely have the same priorities as the living. "Hello, young Konrad," I tell him.

[lei_miao_shan]

The golden man smiles at me, and ah, my heart near to breaks at the sight. I think that I lay at his feet for all of eternity, if only he would smile for me. "That is not true, friend," he says, still in my tongue, "You remember how to speak, how to walk, how to breathe. These things are precious, are they not?"

Yes. Yes, he is right. And my fear ebbs at his words, for so long as I have those things there is indeed hope. "And I think you are not alone in forgetting. Something has happened here." Then he looks up, and does not quite frown, though his smile fades. He and the pale man speak. When he moves next, it is to take my hand and place it within that of the pale man. I do not understand what they say to each other, but the pale man looks to me with an expression of mingled sorrow and kindness, and though I smile for him I can feel myself tremble. The golden man is leaving, I think, taking with him the deep comfort that comes with comprehension. Though the pale man's eyes show compassion, his tongue is strange, and it is one more fear to be added to the flock still circling my head.

There is a trail of heat down the back of my hand, like a trickle of warm water, and then there is another; a boy, not yet in his twenties, I think, fine-boned and white. His hand is resting upon our joined ones, and I am glad when he smiles at me. This boy...

Gui

Yes, perhaps that. But I sense no malice in him, and when he speaks to me his tone is kind, though I cannot understand his words. I think that he may be greeting me, however, and so I dip my head to him. "Nihao," I say, smiling as best that I can, "hěn gāoxìng jiàndào nǐ."

[al_shairan]

"I shall strive to," says the unpriest, and I meet his eyes and shake my head at him. Is this how my Κύριε feels, looking at Man, watching them walk inevitably into disappointment? It makes this human heart hurt.

The dead boy comes up to us.

"I am Konrad. You look cold. Perhaps today is not a day for talking in the garden."

This makes me realise that I have not asked the others for their names. I do not think this matters; I shall not forget who they are. I think the boy is lost. Everyone here is lost, and it gives me a deep pang in my chest. Oh Man. I wonder if it would hurt more or less if I were not in this body.

"You should be resting," I say to the boy. "If my fellow saw you here, he would guide you. I would show you, but I do not know the way." Man's way is not Our way. They take a different path. "I wish you all peace," I say, and I repeat the words in the woman's language. Peace, O Glory -

"יִגְדַּל אֱלֹהִים חַי וְיִשְׁתַּבַּח
נִמְצָא וְאֵין עֵת אֶל מְצִיאוּתוֹ"

Exalted, Exalted, the words sing out, and a bird flies from a parapet across the courtyard, its voice a high sweet trill.

I turn and walk away, for I have much to think on, and many places to see.

[isidore_excolo]

The Chayot shakes his head at me reproval, and I look back into his gaze. What else could I do? He turns his attention to the lost boy.

"You should be resting. If my fellow saw you here, he would guide you. I would show you, but I do not know the way." Is there another here? A Chayot wandering lost alone... A pair though, suggests something more.

I have come here to learn about Nanshe, to seek redemption in Asherah's eyes, and have found El's children wandering as lost as we, before Asherah. Oh lady-of-the-seas, what have you brought me to?

"I wish you all peace," he says in parting. "Shalom, Chayot," I say as he walks away, singing in the pure tongue.

I am still holding Miao's hand, but the boy has dropped his away. "He moves through the world as if it does not touch him. Do you know what he is? Not what they worship here, not like the goddess in the pictures here at all."

Miao looks anxious at the Chayot's departure, and it must be hard if she has forgotten the tongue here. "It does not," I tell the boy. "They are neither of the world nor truly in it. He is a Chayot, most high child of El. And I think he has lost his way."

I turn my face back to Miao. "Lei Miao-Shan," I say to her. "Nihao." I place a hand on my chest. "Isidore." I gesture with my palm open to the boy. "Konrad." And back to her. "Lei Miao-shan."

[lei_miao_shan]

They speak, all of them, the golden man and the pale and the gui, and how I wish that I could understand a word. I wish that the golden man would stay. The gui drops his hand from ours as the golden man leaves us, singing a song that makes me weep. And now it is only the pale man, the gui and I, and I am feeling more lost than I did before.

The pale man turns to me. "Lei Miao-Shan," he says to me. Ah? Is that my name? Does this man know me? "Nihao." and rest his hand, palm-down, upon his chest, "Isidore," he says, and gestures to the gui, "Konrad." Yes, I remember that word from when the gui was speaking to me. Introducing himself, perhaps? The pale man gestures towards me again, "Lei Miao-Shan."

He must know me, he must! "Lei Miao-Shan." I nod, and I smile. "Isidore. Konrad." I look to both of them, still smiling, "Nihao Isidore, nihao Konrad."

[isidore_excolo]

Konrad is distant, as befits a shade. "I suppose that must happen sometimes." Except that it does not, or should not. The more I think of it, the more the Chayot's presence makes me think our forebears were right to seek out the Asherah-most-high. We have a way in the world, but the children of El are lost. Truly the time of before is gone. "If you believe things have a way to lose." I did not expect his words, and I would answer, but I do not think now is the time to argue with a shade.

Miao follows as I name and gesture, and when I say her name a second time she smiles in relief. "Lei Miao-Shan. Isidore. Konrad. Nihao Isidore, nihao Konrad." I think she feels better to know more of who she is. Our names can be anchors, but Konrad looks troubled.

"How long has it been winter?" He stands apart, looking away.

"Some months. One or two, this far north." I look back at Miao, wishing I could speak with her. "I think we should go down to the town, to see what can be done."