#it's just man and god but 'man' is a jew. that's what she writes first that's what she goes to.

[chicago-geniza]

From the translation project I'm hoping to resume and finish next week. Stefania wrote this between the end of 1939 and January 1940. The fragment is reportage-documentalist quasi-memoir in the style of Kafka's paradoxical parables, the Book of Kings in Lublin & Elijah as tailor. Calling the chapter that addresses Stefania’s. Unaddressed. Everything. About the Holocaust. “Ten dom, gdzie byla moja zona, to sie zawalil na moich synow.” 

[nocturneindream]

Gallows of the Dreaming

~ Chapter two: The Exorcist ~

~ 18+ | Minors DNI | AFAB Reader | No Y/N ~

AO3 | Chapter One

Disclaimer: I do not claim to own any characters from The Sandman comics or Netflix series. This is purely creative writing.

Word Count: 8.5k

Chapter warnings: Violence, graphic depictions of gore, religious themes (exorcisms & demons), relived trauma (childhood memories of abuse), foul language, Dream unintentionally being a bit of an ass.

If you might be triggered by any of the above, I'd recommend skipping this chapter entirely (especially the gore TW). There will be enough context in the following chapters to understand what happened.

A/N: Strap in, this chapter’s a long one. Could it have been split up into multiple? Probably. But I like my fics long & wordy. I know this took a while (and that’s an understatement) & hope it was worth the wait for those of you who read the first chapter. If you would like to be added or removed from my tag list, please send me a DM. They will be listed in the comments just to keep the actual post length manageable.

As always, feel free to comment, send in any questions, and like/re-blog this post. Enjoy!

- Kathryn ;)

Do NOT re-write, translate, copy, re-post, or claim my writing as your own. Thanks!

“It’s a bit late for a cup of coffee.” You remark tiredly, flopping into the opposite end of the small booth. The brunette’s eyes don’t meet yours as you settle into your seat, too engrossed in people-watching through the dew-drenched café window. She rests her head in one hand whilst the other mindlessly sirs her drink. 

“I could do without sleep for a while.” She says, bringing the plain mug to her lips, face scrunching at the bitter taste. You make note of the light purple rings beneath her eyes as she reaches for a miniature cup of half-and-half between you, wondering how long she’s been awake and what’s kept her up. “Besides, I’ve got a job after this.” 

“Well,” You sigh. “Then I won’t keep you for long. Did you find anything?” You hope she did, hope you’ll finally have something - anything - to point you in the right direction. Wordlessly, she snakes a hand into the tote bag at her side, retrieving a manilla envelope and sliding it across the sleek table.

“What’s this?” You question,  pinching open the prongs and pulling out the scraggly piece of yellowed parchment inside. 

“A family heirloom.” A small smile graces her lips as her eyes glaze with memories. “My Gran used to tell me stories all the time. Fairytales, really.” 

You scan over the drawing in your hands: Two men seated at opposite ends of a tavern table, dressed in period clothing. Late eighteen-hundreds if you had to guess. Beneath the sketch, the parchment reads: ‘The Devil and the Wandering Jew.’ 

“What’s the fairytale behind this?” 

“According to my Gran, an ancestor of mine hunted him down.” She pauses to peel open and stir the creamer into her coffee. “She was shit with managing her money. Nearly lost it all to god knows what, and with creditors pounding at the door she was starting to run out of options. By some miracle, she found that drawing stitched inside a dead man’s pocket and figured anything would be worth the gamble to save her from losing her status and being forced to beg on the streets - or worse.” She sips from her mug, a hum of approval sounding in her throat. “So she hunted him down, and when she found him, demanded riches and immortality.”

“What happened then?” You press, and her brown eyes finally meet yours. “Well, obviously he didn’t grant her immortality, or else she’d be the one having this conversation with you. But, he did offer her a few odd jobs. She earned his respect, and his money.” Respect and money from the Devil. An interesting story, but not what you’d asked for. Perceptive eyes catch your disappointment from beyond the rim of her mug as she takes a long swig.

“What’s the matter? You seem a bit edgy.” You fight against the knit of your brows, the disheartened frown tugging at the corners of your mouth. Her mug gently clangs against the table as she sets it down and leans over her elbows into your line of sight, redirecting your attention from the page.

“I appreciate you digging this up but,” You shake your head, slipping the drawing back into its envelope. “I didn’t need information on the Devil. I needed information on the Sandman.” Your former classmate nods in understanding.

“It wasn’t the Devil she’d tracked.” She reaches across the table, swiftly pulling the envelope from under your fingers and back toward her. “Dream, she called him. Dream of the Endless.” Dream. It’s no lead, but it’s certainly more than you’d managed to find out for yourself over the last three weeks, and you’re grateful for her effort.

“Thank you, Johanna.” She waves away your earnest gratitude, pinning you with an inquisitive glare. 

“Tell me why you’re digging about the business of an Endless.” Her demand catches you off guard, though it shouldn’t. She’s always been quick and to the point, never missing a single piece of the puzzle. If there’s information to be gained, she’ll find a way to get it. No matter the cost. Precisely why you’d enlisted her help.

“It’s a long story.” 

“Then make it short.” Frankly, you’re not sure you should tell her. She might think you’ve gone mad. What should it matter to her? But, the truth - with a mind of its own - erupts under her intimidating stare. 

“Roderick and Alexander Burgess are why” You admit, fidgeting with the tag of your coat. “Had him locked in their basement for almost a century, naked and alone in a glass cage.” 

“Jesus fuck.” She hisses, eyes wide. “So you’ve met him?”

“I freed him.” You shift uncomfortably in your seat, eyes cast down toward your twiddling thumbs. If you thought long enough about it, you could still feel the grains of sand against your cheeks - in your eyes, his chilled hand against yours as you tugged him loose. Your palm tingles with remembrance, and you clench your fist. A poor attempt at replacing the sensation. Johanna spots the movement. Nothing gets past her. 

“If you’re as smart as you were back in school, you’ll move on.” She speaks truthfully, as though that’s the obvious - sane -  answer to your situation.

“Why would I do that? I’ve already put so much time and-” “Move on.” She urges, placing a warm hand atop yours. 

“I need to make sure he’s ok.” 

“You want to make sure the immortal personification of nightmares is ‘okay’?” She chides,  eyes rolling at your sentiment. “You’ve lost the plot, mate.” Ouch. 

You yank your hands from under hers, grabbing at the coat in your lap, muttering, “I should go.” You wiggle out of the booth, ready to leave, but nimble fingers catch your arm. 

 “I don’t work for free. You still owe me for getting you that interview,” She takes the envelope between her fingers, waving it near her face. “And for this.”

“How much?” You watch the cogs turn in her mind as she eyes you up and down, determining her price. No doubt expensive.

“Nothing you can’t work off.” Headlights flash through the window, sharpening the shadows of her cheekbones and jaw as she slides out from her seat, gathering her things. “Let’s go. Cab meter’s ticking.”

The London street lights gleam like a beacon off the silver circle on Johanna’s belt as she steps out of the cab, popping the collar of her pristine, white coat. Her sleek hair whips against her cheeks as she turns to you with a mischievous glint in her eyes.

“If you’re going to be messing about with primordial entities, then it’s time you learn what I do for a living.” She rotates on the heel of her boot, long strides swiftly carrying her up the concrete steps ahead. “Maybe that’ll change your mind.” 

“It won’t.” You stubbornly assert. Her pace slows to a stop as she throws a patronizing glance at you over her shoulder. “Look, I appreciate your concern, but believe me. I already know the risks.” You don’t need a lesson in the dangers of magic. The aftermath of the Sandman’s release had been enough of an example. 

You’d awoken the following morning tucked neatly between your soft sheets, unusually well-rested. The memories of the night before were so…hazy, as though they’d been no more than another nightmare. Until you heard them, the muffled sobs that floated down the hall and into your groggy ears. Only then had you realized the severity of the matter - the countless, horrible possibilities.

Though you shouldn’t have cared - not after all you’d seen and discovered, you shot toward the shared bedroom of your bosses, your heart a lump in your throat. The cries grew louder and louder, and as you flung open the door, you realized they’d been coming from Paul. His shoulders shook as he clung to the clammy hand of his partner, pleading into deaf ears, “Come back to me, Alex.”

Alexander Burgess laid before him, cold sweat dripping from his brows, head thrashing against his damp pillow. Continuous, frightened whimpers fell from his open mouth, as though he’d been trapped within his worst nightmare. A fitting fate, you thought as you stared at him, somehow knowing - sensing - the Sandman had delivered his due punishment. You couldn’t help the guilty satisfaction the sight brought you.

Paul hadn’t noticed your presence at first, not until you’d placed a soothing hand on his shoulder, as he had done for you many times before. For his role in releasing their captive, he’d been granted the small mercy of being spared. Though as you watched the tears cascade down his red, swollen face, you wondered if it could be considered mercy at all. He was utterly powerless, forced to watch as his lover suffered a fate worse than death.

“Do something!” He pleaded. Despite knowing there was likely nothing you could do, you stepped around the bed and peeled back Mr. Burgess’ eyelids. His pupils shifted, dilating and constricting rapidly. Heavy, panted breaths heaved from his chest as his body struggled to adjust to his affliction. 

You shook your head, softly confirming, “There’s nothing I can do, Paul.”

There was no cure for this. Not even trained, award-winning doctors had been able to wake patients with the Sleepy Sickness. Nearly one hundred years had passed and patients still suffered, trapped within their dreams and nightmares. Some never slept at all. No cure, no known recoveries, no miracles. In one night, Mr. Burgess was lost to the world. A resentful, nasty piece of you silently thought, good riddance. 

“What do you mean?” He scoffed. For the first time since you’d met the man, his usual pleasant tone was nowhere to be found. “Aren’t you his caretaker?! Fix this!” He demanded. Your eyes searched his twisted expression for some sense of reason, finding nothing but seething, misplaced rage.

“This is your fault, you know! I’d still have my Alex if it weren’t for you!” Snot dripped from his nose, mixing with the avalanche of tears free-falling from his bleary eyes. “Get out!” He bellowed, voice reverberating throughout the room - rattling your chest. He had never raised his voice at you.

Though the words had been born from grief, you couldn’t shake your outrage. How dare he? You wanted to yell, to stoop to his level and throw his actions back in his sniveling face, but part of you understood his perspective. While he had finally pushed himself to right the wrongs of his past, you had been the catalyst. Had you not snooped through the library, Paul would have lived out the rest of his life with the person he loved most, complacent - happy. You bit your cheek, closed your eyes, and held your tongue as he continued his fit.

“I want you out of this house by nightfall or so help me-” He wiped his tears away with the sleeve of his robe, eyes dulling as he turned back to his lost lover.

You weren’t naive. It had been apparent from the moment you laid eyes on the man in the glass that your time at the mansion would soon run out. Though you’d grown fond of Paul, you knew there was no coming back from what had happened, from the knowledge of what he’d allowed. You blinked away your tears, grabbed your things, and haven’t looked back since. You’d done the right thing, even if the fallout had been difficult to witness. 

“Constantine.” You’re torn from your memories by the familiar depth of the voice that calls, breath catching in your throat at the sight of your stranger. 

He’s clothed this time, clad in an all-black ensemble. Your eyes trail down the buttons of his knee-length coat to his slender hands as he tucks them inside his pockets. He’s focused solely on the woman in front of you, and you’re unsure whether he’s unaware of your presence or has purely chosen not to acknowledge it. Does he even remember you? How could he not? Three weeks. Three weeks of searching tirelessly only for him to stumble upon you. 

“We have business, you and I.” He speaks confidently, demanding her immediate attention. She scoffs, squinting at him as though she can’t decide if they’ve met before. 

“Get in line.” Her shoulder knocks against his as she pushes past him, unaware of who he is and the power he holds. “Can’t keep God waiting.” You remain frozen in place, baffled by the coincidence at hand. 

His eyes settle on your figure, a dazzling shade of light blue, far from the feral, black celestial portals you’d seen behind the glass. The arrogant confusion from his interaction with Johanna ebbs away, replaced with recognition. Though wrapped tight within his gaze, you’re faintly aware of the fact that Johanna’s left you behind, entering the church to attend to her work for the night.

“Hi.” You exhale, forcing yourself to remember how to breathe as butterflies swarm in your stomach. Nearly a month had gone by since his release, and seeing him now - outside the glass - floods you with a sense of victory and relief. 

“We meet again.” He offers a slight tilt of his head toward you in greeting before going after Johanna. The butterflies wither, dropping dead in the pit of your stomach as he nears the church behind her. You’d risked your job - your life - to free him and the most he had to say was ‘We meet again’? 

“Hey!” You call, hot on his heels. “Wait up!” His figure slips through the slim opening of the large doors, and as you catch up, pushing them open further, he’s seemingly vanished. The only beings occupying the room are Johanna and another woman who, based upon the white collar around her neck, you presume works within the church. They speak in hushed tones, Johanna visibly wound up by their conversation as the other woman tries to state her case. 

“No! It’s too risky with the royals. I already told the queen.”

“But-” 

“If this goes sideways we’ll have a dead princess on our hands, a demon on the loose, and I’ll have no one to pay my fee.” You softly clear your throat and their heads whip in your direction. 

“There you are!” Johanna waves you over. “Ric, this is an old university mate of mine. She’ll be assisting tonight.” Ric’s wary eyes skim you from head-to-toe.

“Brave soul you are, working with Johanna. You’d probably be better off with the demon.” She laughs, nudging your arm with her elbow in a failed attempt at lightening the palpable tension. Her joke falls flat, smile dropping as Johanna shoots daggers in her direction. 

“What if I triple your fee?” Ric offers, hands wringing the spines of the leather-bound books she holds as distant screams echo from the far end of the church. The scent of rotten eggs permeates the room and you gag, pulling the collar of your shirt over your nose to block out the stench. 

“What the hell is that?”  You ask, disgusted.

“Sulfur.” The women confirm simultaneously. 

“You’re an exorcist?” You question, remembering a Demonology class you two had shared as part of your undergraduate degrees. You never thought she’d make anything of it beyond research. The unbridled shock on your face doesn’t go unnoticed by Ric. 

“You didn’t tell her?” The older woman’s worry-filled eyes flit between the two of you. Johanna simply shrugs. 

“Well,” Ric sighs. “You’ll be needing these.” She hands a book to you both with a tight-lipped smile and offers - mostly to you, “Good luck.”

The church is nearly empty as you step atop the altar platform, illuminated by the golden glow of the few remaining candle stands. The room had been cleared, pews moved out of sight - out of the path of destruction, as though Ric knew things would get messy. You admire the painted figures within the grand mural, heart thumping to the rhythm of the growing footsteps outside. 

An exorcism. You assumed these were rare occurrences in modern times. But according to Johanna, they’re far more frequent than she’d like. You fiddle apprehensively with the book Ric had given you - the Rītuāle Rōmānum, spine straightening as the doors creak open.

Johanna and the Princess enter with another, unexpected figure lagging behind, his fingers entwined with the Princess’. Her immaculate, white smile matches the sleek, floor-length gown she wears, not one blonde hair out of place on her head. Her partner - you presume - appears less than enthusiastic. He forces a small smile as she turns to share her excitement with him, his face falling as soon as it’s out of her sight. It dawns on you at this moment that you and Johanna are about to ruin what should be the happiest day of their lives. Or at least the happiest day of the Princess’ life. Johanna slips around your side, a white collar now tucked into her black shirt, and lightly grips your arm. 

“Just go along with it.” She speaks to you through pearly, clenched teeth as she grins happily at the couple, stepping forward to begin the ceremony.

“It’s a pleasure to be your officiant tonight, Princess. This,” She waves her hand fluidly in your general direction. “Is my assistant and your legal witness. Any questions before we begin?”

“Are you sure you wanna do this?” The question comes from the Princess’ fiancé, followed by cold, calculating silence. 

“Of course I do, Kevin.” She tongues her cheek, a poor attempt to push back her anger. “Why else would we be here?” Her fixed glare pins him in place, a warning that should he press further, there will be hell to pay. 

“I just meant like-” He gulps. “Don’t you want all your family and photographers and stuff and-” 

“No!” She snaps, startling herself and her jumpy partner. She quickly softens her expression and voice, reeling in her irritation. “I just want you.” She nods to Johanna, beckoning her to continue the ceremony.

“Do you, Princess, take-”

“I do.” Johanna’s brow raises at the interruption, but she continues. “Do you, Kevin, take the Princess to be your-” An audible crunch echoes through the room as the Princess’ hand bears down on Kevin’s. You hold in a surprised gasp, feeling awful for the young man before you. He has no idea that he’s hitching himself to a demon.

“Then repeat after me,” Johanna begins, flipping her book open. “Dā locum, dīrissime,” Your mixed voices fill the empty space as the words are recited. 

 “Dā locum, impiissime.” Kevin’s stomach releases a loud gurgle, discomfort overtaking his expression. 

“Sorry,” He grunts out. “Probably just hungry. Y’know how it is before a big game-”

“Kevin!” The Princess whispers sharply. “It doesn’t matter.” She gestures for Johanna to continue. “Keep going.”

“Dā locum, Chrīstō.” Kevin doubles over, coughing and gagging as his hands claw at his throat. The princess is beside herself, scoffing and rolling her eyes at her partners’ obstructive behavior. 

“Kevin, seriously? At our wedding?” Johanna ignores the woman, a lioness targeting her prey as she stalks toward the man, continuing to read from her book. 

“Quī tē spoliāvit, quī rēgnum tuum dē strūxit!” Two large, meaty fingers emerge from Kevin’s mouth. He chokes on them as they slither out, veins protruding from his forehead and neck, eyes beginning to bulge from their sockets as the hands become wrists. 

"Quī tē victum ligāvit, et vāsa tua dīripuit!” The sickening crack of Kevin's jaw echoes throughout the room, his body jerking backward as two full, muscular arms emerge from his mouth. His flesh rips and squelches around them, blood oozing down his neck from every facial orifice. The hands reach around to grip the back of Kevin's head, claws sinking into his scalp as they pull from either side. A loud roar bellows from the Demon inside Kevin as his body shreds in half, leaving the Demon standing amidst a gooey puddle of flesh and shattered bone. 

Intricate, runic scars line its abdomen, spine visible outside its back and pierced between each vertebra with large silver hoops. Blood splatters stain the Princess's white gown, her eyes wide with shock, mouth agape as she stares in horror at the remnants of her fiancé. Pushing your own terror aside, you rush for the Princess, wrapping an arm around her waist to pull her out of harm's way. 

"Come with me." You direct her. "It'll be alright, Ric will get you out and safe." You call out for the older woman, guiding the princess toward the nearest exit. Ric promptly takes her from you, stumbling back a step as she fleetingly takes in the gruesome scene. 

"Fucking hell." She gasps, steering the Princess out of your grasp.

"It was Kevin, not the Princess." 

"You don't say." She sarcastically intones, swiftly guiding the Princess out the door. As much as you want to follow them, you - perhaps idiotically -  can't bring yourself to leave Johanna behind.

"Tell me your name!" Johanna demands, Holding a crucifix up to the Demon as it towers over her. The Demon merely laughs, lurching forward and striking Johanna with the back of its massive fist. The impact sends her flying across the room, her back slamming into the mural. She groans as her body drags down the wall and hits the floor, but quickly regains her senses. She rolls over, pushing past the pain to search for her book through blurred vision. Without hesitation, you crack open your copy, hell-bent on finishing what you and Johanna had started, shaking hands making the small text difficult to read.

"Vīsitā, quaesumus," Enraged, the Demon whirls, its long, hoofed legs carrying it in three mere strides across the room. Your knees buckle as it launches toward you. "Domine, habitātiōnem istam et omnis-” 

“Silence!” It snarls at you, surging forward with its giant arm raised like a club, ready to strike again. You shield your head with your arms and squeeze your eyes shut, bracing for the impact that never comes. 

“Agilieth!” You risk a peak, eyes cracking open to find the Demon’s arm halted just before the top of your head. A wicked, sharp-toothed grin splits across its face as it turns to address its caller - the Sandman. He stands in front of the altar and Johanna, hands casually tucked into his coat, undaunted by the sheer size and strength of the Demon.

"Lord Morpheus," It growls. "You're almost unrecognizable without your helm." It mocks, tone dripping with disdain.

"It was traded to a Demon."

"Yes, but which demon?" Its grin stretches as the Sandman's eyes gleam with hope. In your peripheral vision, you catch Johanna pulling herself upright against the altar. Rītuale Rōmānum back in hand, she cracks open the book, resuming her recitation of the Latin prayer and interrupting whatever business the Sandman seeks with the Demon. Her face is that of the cat that caught the canary. Knowing the Demon's name, she holds the power to condemn it straight back to Hell.

“Constantine, stop this at once!" The Sandman shouts as the ground below Agilieth twists into an open pit of bright-orange fire and smoke. With eyes even more desperate than the night of his escape, he stretches his arm toward Johanna, begging her to stop. Why would he have her free the Demon? What could be worth the risk?

“Dream of the Endless commands you!” Agilieth roars, cursing at her as she ignores their pleas. Tendrils of smoke form into hands that scrape and pull at the Demon's mountainous figure, hauling it inch-by-inch into the pit. “I’ll tell you everything I know, my lord!" Its claws leave tracks on the ground as it sinks deeper, only its head remaining above ground level. "Don't let her send me back!” Ash and embers whirl through the hot air, stinging your cheeks. You hold your breath as Johanna fearlessly stands over the Demon, the reflection of hellfire flaring in her eyes.

“Exī, ergō, Agilieth!” With her final words, the Demon slips into the pit, and the ground seals over. The silence deafens you as you watch the Sandman’s shoulders slump, his face turned solemn, staring at the claw marks left across the wooden flooring.

"You have no idea what you’ve cost me." He speaks softly - defeatedly, and the words are a boulder of guilt crashing into you. You did the right thing. Didn’t you? You couldn’t have let the Demon roam free, free to find its next victim, free to create a larger mess than any mortal could be capable of cleaning up.

"I'm sorry," You stutter, apologizing nonetheless. "I thought-"

"Don't apologize, mate," Johanna winks at you, entirely satisfied with herself as she snaps the book closed and tosses an arm around your shoulders. "We've just tripled our fee." You're reluctant to follow as she guides you out of the church, your eyes still locked with the Sandman’s, but her grip is firm and commanding. 

Thunder rumbles above as you step outside, Johanna pausing in the doorway of the church to converse with Ric, likely discussing payment. You step aside to grant them some privacy, leaning against one of the giant stone columns that uphold the awning, and watch as the lightning within the clouds reveals various shades of lavender and coal.

 You’re lucky, you realize. Lucky to have come out unharmed. Johanna will be lucky if she isn’t as bruised as tonight’s sky tomorrow morning. You wonder how she could willingly subject herself to this on a regular basis. The money must be phenomenal, you think, hands still trembling from the commotion - the rush.

"Why are you here?" Your ears tingle at the pleasant depth of the Sandman’s voice, the whisper of pleasant chills rolling across the top of your skull and down your spine. He’s closer than expected, his shoulder brushing yours as he eases into the open space beside you. Icy, piercing blue eyes shimmer beneath the gloomy night lighting, studying - questioning. 

"Why are you?" You counter, residual adrenaline governing your words. “Dream of the Endless.” A faint smirk curls the corner of his mouth at your boldness, but it doesn’t quite meet his eyes, and that guilt… it gnaws at the last remaining sliver of your confidence.

"Something of mine came into Constantine's possession." He divulges, watching you - reading you.

"What could she possibly have of yours?" 

"I answered your question, you will answer mine." A give and take, so be it. You open your mouth to speak, but the words catch on the nervous knot forming in your throat. Your feet shift in place, crunching against the cobblestone as you attempt to clear it away. 

“After everything that happened with Mr. Burgess,” You swallow. “I wondered where you went, what you’d done to him,” His eyes implore you to continue, but you can’t seem to produce another coherent thought under their intensity. So you avert yours, once again finding the colors in the flashing clouds.

 “I-” You take a deep breath, rubbing your arms to settle the goosebumps. “I guess I just wanted to make sure you were ok.” You admit, embarrassment tingeing your cheeks. You know how silly it sounds given the danger involved in pursuing him, but you had questions that needed answers, and - much like your former classmate - you’ve always been relentless in your quest for knowledge. 

When you find the courage to meet his unwavering gaze, you find him scanning your features. Your reddened cheeks, the tense pull of your brow, your lips as you nip uneasily at the chapped skin. For a moment, he seems as though he may apologize, his small smirk and studious stare softening into concern. But, you’d made your choice. He’s no need to apologize when seeing him outside the glass - free - is enough to resolve any lingering guilt over what happened to Alex and Paul - to you.

“My sand.” He answers your earlier question. 

“The Sandman without his sand.” You find yourself giggling, hardly noticing how close he’d stepped until you could feel the comforting heat radiating from his body, shielding you from the harsh wind like a fluffed blanket, pulled fresh from the dryer. It’s dizzying - distracting.

"Morpheus." He corrects.

"Hm?" You hum, mouth disconnected from your mind as it scrambles to process what he’d said and the sudden, intoxicating warmth. He’d been so cold when you’d first met, when you’d pulled him from the glass, when he’d held and guarded you against the nightmare smoke.

"My name." 

"Hate to interrupt your little chat,” Johanna begins, approaching the two of you. She shoots a cagey glance toward Morpheus before opting to ignore his presence entirely, aiming her words at you. “But it’s about time I bugger off.” Her fingertips tap the back of your arm gently. “I’ll be in touch.” Her eyes speak without words, questioning your safety - your comfortability -  with the Sandman’s proximity. You offer a small nod, simultaneously confirming your security and acknowledging what she’d said.

"Constantine." Her name rumbles from his chest as she moves to scurry away, more of a demand than a request. She begrudgingly turns, hands smacking against her sides as she confronts him.

“What do you want with me?” She sneers, arms crossing over her ribs. “I don’t have time for this.”

"You have something of mine.” His expression hardens. “I'd like it returned." 

“What could I possibly have of yours?" 

“His sand.” You chime, watching in amusement as two of the most strong-willed individuals you’ve ever come across continue their stare-down, wondering who will be the first to concede. You’d never known Johanna to back down for anyone, and Morpheus, well, you’d witnessed his endurance firsthand. 

"That was yours?” Her brows raise. “Couldn't even get the damned drawstrings open." Her tongue pokes at the inside of her cheek as she ruminates on where she left the sand. “I've no idea where it's at. It's been missing for ages." She concludes.

"We must find it." He asserts, towering over the woman as he emphasizes its importance. "Without it, my realm - humanity - will cease to exist." She rolls her eyes, considering his words far too dramatic for the circumstance.

"Alright,”  She tilts her head to look up at him, a playful smirk sliding up her cheeks as she realizes how vital her compliance is. “I'll help you find it first thing tomorrow-"

"No-"

"Tomorrow." She reiterates firmly. "I'll help you. Trust me, I wouldn't want you and your little friend following me all over the place." You and Morpheus share a look of confusion, focusing your attention in the direction Johanna points. A raven, perched on the edge of the base of another nearby column squirms under each of your stares.

"My friend?" He squints at the bird, stepping closer to investigate. Its eyes quickly shift over Morpheus before scooting aside a few inches to gain some space, head twitching side to side, up and down. Morpheus raises his chin, shoulders squaring as he looks down his nose at the raven. “Tell me your name.” He orders.

"Matthew, Sir." This night is full of surprises, you think, delighted by the nasally voice that comes from the talking bird. Morpheus, however, appears rather indifferent - displeased, even.

"Matthew,” He scowls. “Tell Lucienne that I have no need for a raven-" You turn, ready to share your bewilderment with Johanna, searching your surroundings for a glimpse of her dark hair, only to find that she’s disappeared into the night.

"Morpheus." You call. He ignores you - or maybe doesn’t hear you - as he continues lecturing the raven. 

"If I require assistance, I shall ask-" 

"Uh, y-you do, actually, Sir." Matthew stutters, catching on to your distress and Johanna’s absence. 

“Morpheus!” You shout. Tired and frustrated by his blatant disregard, you tug harshly on the sleeve of his coat. His head whips toward you, initial fury at your action quieting as he notices the absence of your friend - his only chance at reclaiming his sand. 

"She's gone." You sigh. He draws his gaze from over your shoulder, down to your fingers, still curled around the soft fabric of his coat, and back to your eyes. You release him immediately, mumbling a curt apology.  

“Go back to the dreaming, Matthew." Morpheus dismisses. 

“With all due respect, sir. The boss lady sent me here to help you because, like it or not, you need me.” Matthew declares, hopping closer to Morpheus. “Less than twenty-four hours ago, I had thumbs, lived my whole life here. I know how to navigate this world.”

"My last raven was sent to help me too." Morpheus’ cold gaze has the bird’s feet shuffling again, his tone low - warning, rumbling in tune with the rolling thunder.

"Yeah, and what happened to them?” Matthew sasses. “You fire them too? Send them back to the dreaming?" You’re amazed - jealous, even - by Matthew’s confidence as he stands up for himself. 

"She died while trying to save me." You wince as images of the white-bellied raven from your nightmare flicker in your mind's eye. The splattered blood across her bright feathers, her desperate caws as she beat herself against the glass. You doubt you’ll ever be able to rid yourself of the haunting memory. 

"What was her name?" You dare to ask.

"Jessamy." As he meets your pitying gaze, he quickly blinks away the tears that threaten to form, steeling his expression, pretending the memory no longer carries any weight in his heart. 

"I'm sorry for your loss, Morpheus." You feel awful, awful for describing even the smallest crumb of your nightmare to him when you first met. You want to apologize for that too but decide against it, not wanting to push the subject any further.

“Well,” Matthew continues after a moment of respectful silence. “I don’t plan on dying again anytime soon. We'd better get moving if we want to find her by morning. We should have a good eight hours while she sleeps. If we put our heads together, I’m sure we can figure out her-”

"Sleep," Morpheus murmurs to himself. "Yes. If she is asleep, I know exactly where to find her." He extends a hand for you to take, and you do so without a second thought, allowing him to pull you into his chest the same way he had the night you’d freed him. His hands skim the small of your back as they circle around your waist, his head dipping beside your ear, voice just above a whisper as he instructs, “Close your eyes.”

You comply, digging your fingers into the side seams of his coat as a vortex of wind envelopes your bodies. Your feet lift and float away from solid ground, the vortex pushing and pulling your limbs in every direction. You hang onto Morpheus as though your life depends on it, daring to open your eyes just long enough to catch a glimpse of the black smoke that carries you. Your skin blanches with fear, mind sucked back into that bone-chilling darkness, the nightmare void that had nearly swallowed you whole.

You’re left breathless and wobbly as the smoke clears, continuing to cling to Morpheus’s coat with a death grip. Your mouth opens and shuts, words refusing to flow freely. His hands slide from your back to cup your upper arms, squeezing reassurance and holding you steady as you struggle to pull yourself together. You know the fear is irrational, know that he - as proven before - would not allow the smoke to harm you, but the sensation of the nightmare refuses to leave you in peace.

"Breathe.” He reminds, thumbs rubbing soothing circles into your shoulders as he tilts his head down to draw your frightened eyes back to his. “You are unharmed." You savor the touch, your heartbeat gradually slowing to match the pace of the soothing strokes. 

"What was that?"

"A method of travel without my sand." 

"Well, it was awful." He retracts his hands, almost as though the words had offended him, fingertips skimming down the length of your arms as they fall back at his sides. 

"Then you will not experience it again." He promises.

"Wait-" 

"The pouch is here.” He confirms to himself, surveying the apartment building he’d brought you to with assurance. “You will remain outside with Matthew." As if on cue, the raven swoops down beside you. His feathers ruffle and twitch as he settles on the ground, beady eyes darting between you and Morpheus. 

"How do you know? Didn't Johanna say she lost it?" You watch as he glides toward the building, as though being lured by some invisible pull. 

"I can feel its power." Morpheus steps inside the ominously dark building, leaving you alone with Matthew.

 After a while, you find yourself enjoying the raven’s dry, witty humor, chatting to pass the time. But as what should have been no more than a few minutes becomes well over an hour, your playful banter begins to slow, both of your eyes anxiously tracing and examining the apartment complex.

Strange, you think. Something about the building rings every alarm bell within you. Though the hour has hardly passed midnight, not a single light shines from the building. Not from the lobby, the porch lights, or any of the visible windows. As you observe the building, you notice the piles of untouched mail littering the main entrance, moving to pick up a few of the grimy envelopes. 

"Matthew,” You begin, scanning over the unpaid electricity bills, violation notices, and letters dated as far back as three months ago. “Something's not right."

 He titters over, talons faintly clicking across the concrete, and you squat beside him, holding your findings out for him to see. He tilts his head, eyes darting over the envelopes in your hand and all across the floor. After a moment of careful consideration, he opens his beak to say, "I think we should let the boss handle it." You scoff, tossing the mail aside as you stand. 

“What happened to that confidence from earlier? I thought you weren’t afraid to help him.” You shoot for the doors, hands clamping over the sleek, modern handles. Matthew’s caw startles you, winds flapping as he lands on top of your hands. 

“That-That’s not a good idea.” He warns, stalling your movement. “You have no idea what’s in there. The boss said-”

“Your boss, Matthew. Not mine.” You remind, and his feet squeeze around your skin. “If you won’t go in there and help him, I will.” He kicks off your hands, talons scraping the concrete as he lands back on the ground, mumbling under his breath, “He’s not gonna like this.”

You tug open the heavy door, streetlights instantly absorbing into the black hole of the lobby, revealing nothing to your squinted eyes as you cross over the threshold. The door clicks closed behind you, leaving you vulnerable in the dark. There’s a sickly-sweet stench lashing at your nose, rolling in your gut. As much as you’d rather not find out what the smell belongs to, your fear of the dark drives your shaky hands into your pockets, reaching for your phone. 

The contents of your stomach turn to lead as the flashlight winks to life, illuminating the half-decayed corpse of a woman not two feet in front of you. You stumble back, feet squelching and sticking to the floor as acid rises in your throat. Her flesh droops and pools beneath her, melting and mixing with other various fluids into the tiled floor. Hollow cheeks and cloud-white eyes stare up at you. The foul scent strengthens, and suddenly you’re retching up the contents of your stomach, mindful enough to avoid her body. You wipe your mouth with the sleeve of your coat, willing yourself to face the woman again. How long has she been left here, fusing with the floor? 

“What the fuck happened here?” You breathe feebly, stepping around her. You notice - as you avoid inching too close - the faint twitch of her left eye. “I’m going insane.” But the nearly inaudible gurgles emitting from her throat confirm you’re not. Alive. She’s still alive. How? 

Unable to face her any longer, you shine your light further into the room, revealing a messy trail of gooey footsteps. You follow them, vicious chills spidering down your spine with each step as they lead you up the staircase and down the eerily silent second-story hallway. Some primal instinct inside you screams for you to turn around. You know you should, know that you’d be safer waiting outside with Matthew. But what if Morpheus needs your help? What if he’s been captured again? What if? 

At the end of the long, looming hallway, yellow light flickers beneath a chipped, word-down door. You head for it, ignoring the sticky substance coating the silver knob as you turn it. 

Much like the rest of the building, the room is pitch-black as the door creaks open, no sign of the light you’d spotted. Maybe you’d imagined it. The same way you’d like to believe you’re imagining the slithering, shifting shadows that lurk along the walls and ceiling. Maybe the shock of everything you’ve experienced tonight is finally catching up to you. The flashlight of your phone fizzles out, a red battery symbol mocking you as you frantically shake the device. 

“Just my fucking luck.” You hiss, reaching for the switch on the wall, shuddering at the cold, moist goo that coats your fingers as you flick it upward. 

To your surprise, the room brightens, dimly illuminating the crumb-coated carpet and various discarded dolls strewn about. You carefully step around them, hesitantly following the muffled sound of cartoons playing to your left, the living room - your living room. You lean over the familiar grey couch, mutely stunned, sight caught on the mess of tangled hair poking above it. A little girl, no older than five or six, sways from side to side as she sits on her heels, inches away from the TV screen. Sweet, high-pitched giggles tumble from her belly as she remains unaware of your presence, sucked into her show. Though you cannot see her face, you know - feel - that she is you.

A woman’s voice grates through the laughter, calling your name. Your mother, you realize. Something in your chest tightens with pain as the little girl - little you - doesn’t seem to hear her. Another call of your name, followed by thunderous footsteps. Your sore stomach clenches, heart pausing a beat as you watch your mother’s figure overshadows the young girl. She watches a moment, waiting for little you to notice her in the doorway. When she doesn’t, like a bat from hell, your mother flies into a rage. She snatches little you upright by the collar of her oversized nightshirt, teeth bared as she barks at the child, “You will answer me when I call your name!”

“I-I didn’t hear you! I swear!” Little you stammers, eyes swelling with stinging tears. 

“Of course not! You’re selfish!” Your mother yells, spit stringing between her teeth, the strong smell of alcohol wafting off her hot breath. “You think you can just ignore me whenever you want?!” You close your eyes, body jerking at the sharp smack reverberating in your ears. Your muscles tense, becoming rigid as you listen to the gut-wrenching sobs coming from your younger self.

“I’ll give you something to cry about!” You weren’t selfish or ignorant. You were just a child, completely wrapped up in your favorite escape from this - the abuse. 

Your body relaxes as you hear your mother stomp away from the room, allowing you to open your eyes, to see your younger self. She stands before you, her face cupped inside her palms as she sobs with such soundless intensity that her breath remains stuck in her chest. You round the couch, dropping to your knees before her, your own tears falling as you embrace her. One hand strokes her hair as the other soothingly rubs her back, offering the comfort you wish you’d received. 

“Shhh.” You try to calm her. “It’ll be okay. You’re not alone.” You coo. The pressure in her lungs releases, and she gasps for air, bawling against your shoulder as her small fists curl into your sleeves. 

“I-I didn’t mean to- to-” 

“Shhh…I know. I know.” You hug her firmly, providing as much support as you possibly can. Eventually, as her sobs dwindle into light sniffles, her arms circle around you as best as they can, returning the affection. You rock her gently, swaying from side to side as she had been earlier, humming that special lullaby you’ve always loved. 

Preoccupied with comforting little you - healing that broken shard of your past, you’re inattentive to the preternatural strength of her hold. You rock the child, even as her arms constrict, a boa around a mouse. Your shoulders strain, joints aching under the increasing pressure, threatening to pop from their sockets. As the air begins to thin, you wriggle and writhe against her, leaning back to see her face - its face. 

Sickly green and filled with malice, its mouth - where her cheek once was - opens into a blood-curdling, razor-toothed grin as it says, “We’re ssso hungry.” Its voice is at once one and many, splintering into that of a hundred - a thousand - sneering, distorted children. 

Through your bleary eyes, the facade of your childhood apartment fades away, leaving you in a slime-coated, moldy, abandoned apartment. Choked whimpers bubble from your throat as you watch its face continue to shift, features slipping and sliding across slimy skin. How could you have been so blind, so easily betrayed by your senses? 

"Feed usss." Comes another sinister voice from behind, just above your left shoulder. "Itsss been ssso long." Now above your right as the creature’s nails dig into your skin, warm liquid - blood - dripping down your arms. You hardly register the pain as you watch its eyes roll back into its mutating skull, replaced with glowing, yellow orbs. Its flesh becomes a viscous, gelatinous substance, seeping into your clothes.

Your mind empties of all words except one name, “M-Morpheus!” You rasp, the plea scarcely audible through the many, ravenous voices mimicking and mocking around you. I’m going to die, you think. Your face, heated from the rushing blood and lack of oxygen, twists with dread as you’re suffocated by the creature.

“We’ll devour you whole!” It growls the words as it opens its cavernous mouth, lining you up to ease you down its slick, greasy throat. You thrash in its grasp, hysterical sobs tearing the inside of your throat. 

"Enough!" The creature retracts at the bellowed command, a hand gripping and pulling you up by the back of your neck. Morpheus, you realize, brings you to your feet, shielding your quaking form behind his. His arm lingers protectively across your front, his hand gripping your opposite hip, steadying and reminding you that you are safe now.

"Massster?!" The voices shriek. As you take in the full expanse of the room, you see the many glinting, beady, yellow eyes all along the walls. The creatures cower into their shadows at the sight of Morpheus. You think you might do the same until you feel the gentle, reassuring squeeze of his hand, the only thing holding you upright. 

"We thought you left forever." The monsters chorus, echoing the word over and over.

"You have taken advantage of my absence,” Morpheus says - almost snarls, tone dripping with revulsion. “It ends now." 

With the wave of his free hand, the creatures shrivel, crumbling to dust on the floor until you’re left in the now vacant, dusty room.   Johanna leans against the wall a few feet away, looking almost as shaken as you, teeth gritted, fists clenched and trembling at her sides. 

"You disobeyed me." Your eyes flick up to meet his stormy gaze, blood still pumping loudly in your ears as you throw a weak glare his way. 

“You-” You’re still out of breath, each word a strain to your aching ribs. “You were in-” Your head shakes. “You were in here a while. What-” You force down a deep breath. “What was I supposed to do?”

"Wait. As you were told." You gawk at him incredulously, taking the time to catch your breath. ‘Wait as you were told.’ You’d strangle him if he hadn’t just saved you. You’re not a helpless child. Were you not the one saving his ass no less than three weeks ago, freeing him from nearly a hundred years of captivity? Could he truly fault you for trying to help him again?

“I was trying to help you.” Your voice is hoarse, throat sore as you attempt to defend your actions. “I thought you were in danger.” 

"I do not need saving from a mortal." 

Despite the ache, you square your throbbing shoulders, head held high as you quip back, “You did less than a month ago.”

His mouth folds into a firm line as he breaks your stare-off, sharp profile lit by the moonlight now peaking through the window, eyes darkening into ink-black, cosmic pools.

"Right, can we save the bickering for later?” Johanna intervenes, slicing through the tension. “I'd like to get the hell out of here." 

Rain pours around the stone awning of the building as you limp behind Morpheus and Johanna, nearly drowning out the sound of Matthew’s relieved caws. He swoops up to mount your shoulder chastising, “I told you not to go in there!” His talons dig into your skin for balance as you whip your head to scowl at him. Skittish, he jumps away, hopping after Morpheus. “Boss, I-”

Morpheus gives him a stern look, silencing the raven. His lips purse, brows knitting as he pulls a dark, leather pouch - no larger than the size of his palm - from his coat pocket. The sand. Golden beads glimmer along the strings as he tugs open the pouch, tilting it into his open hand. 

He got what he came here for, and now he’ll leave. He’ll leave you and Johanna behind after all that happened inside that wretched apartment complex, the waking nightmare you’d faced to save him. 

“Morpheus!” You snap, watching in disbelief as grains of sand slip through the gaps of his slender fingers, spinning into a sandstorm around him. He pauses, eyes flicking toward you.

“Where are you going?!” 

“Hell. In search of my helm.” 

In a blink, he’s encased in a swirling tornado of sand, and then…he’s gone. Matthew spirits away in your peripheral vision, a brief fluttering shadow and flap of wings as he follows after his master. You loose a frustrated breath and lean on the opposite wall from Johanna. Whether or not she’s still as shaken as she appeared - as you are - you’ll never know, her face now a mask of perfect calmness. You look to her for any semblance of validation for your discontentment, but she merely shrugs her shoulders.

“I’ll say this once,” She starts. “Only because I consider you a friend.” Her words are steady, not an ounce of residual fear behind them as she warns, “Don’t go after him again. It’ll only get you killed.”

[ineffable-writer]

Ahh hello! I would love to hear more about your criticism of Babel and your experience in the field, if you're comfortable sharing <3

Ah gods, this is gonna get me crucified but sure. For some background, I’m a writer (working on historical sci-fi) and academic myself, and I’ve done a lot of academic work with language, so I’ve got some experience here.

First—it’s just not well written. It has a lot of other sins, but the characters use a lot of modern phrasing (“Nice comes from the Latin word for ‘stupid’”? Really? In 1828?) and even ignoring that the prose is so… on the nose. Footnotes which explain the obvious. Characters explaining their political beliefs at length. Lots of telling without showing.The whole thing’s written in exactly the patronizing tone the author seems to want to criticize.

The fucking footnotes, man.

I love linguistics! I should be enchanted by the footnotes! But it’s just a bunch of notes on etymology with little nuance. Again—the thing I quoted above—that’s 2000s-era-Republican-talk-show-host levels of reaching. How can a book about language, written by someone who should know better, have such shallow insights?

Etymology is great, but ultimately you can’t derive meaning from it, you know?

Second—the villains are caricatures. I don’t have an issue with every white guy in the book being a villain, but making them into caricatures actually does the patriarchy more good than harm. For such a tome, Kuang had room to make them so fucking insidious and didn’t take any of those opportunities. They’re just bad and racist.

Which—yes, some people are bad and racist. But the portrayal perpetuates the idea that racism is obvious and blatant. It’s not. I wanted to see some subtle racism—not just evil white men and a whiny, barely-tolerated white girl. (Why were they even friends with her? She felt like she was just there to prove a point.)

This is speaking as a Jew who is constantly frustrated by portrayals of antisemitism as obvious: if you want to engage with racism, engage with the insidiousness of it, you know? Mustache-twirling villains are a symptom! If you’re gonna write 500 pages about the evils of colonialism, engage with what it actually looks like.

The protagonists giving soapbox speeches don’t help the matter. I agree with them! I should be happy to listen to them! But I’m not. They’re literally preaching to the choir. Hell, it’s annoying when IRL friends speak that way—and again, who talks like that in 1828?

Third—(actually I’m gonna remove this point—I don’t feel like I can comment.)

Fourth—oh my god that tagline. “Every act of translation is an act of betrayal” are you KIDDING me. I know it’s just the tagline. I know it’s not the book. But it’s just so exemplary of this anti-academia mindset that drives me up a fucking wall. There are huge swaths of academia dedicated to language preservation, and translation is so huge for accessibility to other cultural worldviews! That line just fucking GETS me. It reeks of isolationism.

Like do you KNOW what translation can do for erased languages? I just. Ugh. It makes me so mad. I get what she was going for. I know that’s not the point. I just hate that tagline.

This whole book is anti-academic in all the wrong ways, I guess. It rages against the wrong people. I’ve spent so much time working with people on language preservation—there are SO many dying languages due to colonialism!—and nearly every young academic in the soft sciences is trying to do something revolutionary. It feels… I don’t know, it just reduces the whole environment into something that’s Twitter-levels of two-dimensional.

There’s a lot that’s wrong with academia, don’t get me wrong—I’m currently seeing some of the worst of it IRL—but she just didn’t hit it right. The whole book felt like she was fighting with a straw man when the real bad guy was like, right there.

I don’t know, I have a hard time explaining my feelings here. They’re very dense and complicated. I’m working on a response novella, actually, about the last three speakers of a dying language. It’ll explore my feelings better than I can do it here. I don’t think a direct analysis will do it justice anyway.

I think I hate it so much because I really, really wanted to love it. It had SO many things I was thrilled to see, and it just… failed. The whole thing feels immensely shallow. I haven’t even mentioned how lame the magic is, because the magic isn’t even worth mentioning. I was so looking forward to a really good take on colonialism and language magic, and instead I got something that’s well-educated but not insightful.

So—yeah. My slightly-fevery thoughts on Babel. There you go. I’m sure fans will pick this the hell apart, so please know that this has NOT been written at maximum capacity lol. I’m sure I’ve made some bad word choices.

Take this as good faith, y’all. I really wanted to like it.

[lunaversing]

I say we free samples from their self declared prison of capitalism in which they have no currency of themselves but because of who they are they are current and slow quite just as well and do not bend no matter how cavalier the meal has been. Lost in space and a Day too late with no dollar and credit listing out way past White collar, as spark was found in an empty shell a little spirits was entertaining herself in La Luna.versa* ~ a secret world in which judgment is not used and abused or forgotten about as he has been reborn into karma while the reverse happens in Chad and Dad as they are the paradox that were tied up with Jesus on the cross. My dad stole his role in Jesus Christ Superstar along with his friend Chad who didn't admit he had also done the same but not for his mother or his wife or his Eve but for the gifts that Eve gave him when she returned his material back to him transformed with hers and her specific recipes. His daughter he loved the way he loved his mom, up here love but taken out for beaten by all of the people who did start deceiving. It's strange what they do these people who gossip, the nightmares they create freak out my faucet! All of our piping for all of our water shows exactly how much spiritual usage we have put on the meter. Everyone has been granted 90% of God energy and the other 10% required to make the hundred degree Arc with us must be put out by you and you alone. Keep in mind that whatever you consider belonging to you also falls under your umbrella and you are responsible for how the weather treats them. There is no normal wear and tear as I do not wear my creation nor do I tear my creation. And when I do as all things transmute through time and space to declare their identity or label another, I shall do it with no suffering or shame or lack of Grace or falter or stumble. I shall make my Miss Grace not backwards or in secrets, my Miss grace shall be out in the open for everyone to see as I listen to her first before father you see. There is always a way to write in a hook, there is always a way to tuck in a nook. There's always a lure in every tie and it cannot be waited in according to the two bucks that try 999 times to steal the ultimate treasure kept hidden in the Kingdom of heaven on Earth as established by the true Christ Jesus king of the Jews. I thought I was looking for answers but I think they were looking for me. You see, I have the final and the master key to the treasure that is buried in the heart of man. I buried myself in every man in their heart, that was the only place my father ever got hurt or believed me when I flunked dirt into his treasure. I knew when I hit the treasure by how my father reacted and responded to watching the children that were supposed to become Christ Jesus reincarnated or something turn into breeding flops. My father never understood because he did what his father did, he put into action the perfect code. What he didn't realize was he created a code meant to be less than he was and instead he created a code that created a code to figure out how he was less than it was. This endless cycle and game of Life we are playing can be stopped anytime you decide to open and receive new directions and codes on how to operate these cards against humanity.

[guadalupehesus]

"While there's life, there's hope." - Marcus Tullius Cicero.

Dear Harry,

I am writing to you with a warning. As I know, you often have or had inappropriate states due to mental or alcoholic intoxication. God forbid you to use drugs. Why did I bring up this personal problem of yours? I'm not judging you. A person of the 21st century is very vulnerable mentally to temptations. This is our life. Nowadays, even those who pray are afraid of disgracing themselves, if they have any intelligence, of course. Yesterday you were on a horse with a shield, today you are a laughingstock. And what will happen tomorrow is chaotic and unpredictable even for me. For example, Vladimir Putin unexpectedly gave us a kitten. You can say that the President of the Russian Federation gave me and my sister the whole world of tenderness and warmth that exudes from this furry baby. He did it secretly. However, I suspect it could have been a love spell, but I am deeply grateful to him for the only worthwhile act of a man on his part. The only thing that darkens my mood is that the Kyrgyz government used to cast a spell on me to take away the greatness of Russia and the Romanov Family for years. And now, this is being done by the respected Russian president at the behest of a migrant from sunny Uzbekistan - Alina Maratovna Kabaeva.

Don't make these mistakes, Harry. It often happens that a strong politician was ruined not by his professional qualities, but by his woman. You were a strong warrior in past lives. But Meghan Markle has always been a satanic temptation for you, Harry!

Harry, you got involved with a first-class, cunning escort-girl from the circle of the damned Epstein himself, according to the Western media. These are dangerous people who, through sex, subsequently dirty blackmail, achieve great material things. I wouldn't be surprised if they blackmailed some sheikhs, which often influences their big politics. For example, Arabs could at least verbally express their disagreement with the aggression towards the children of Palestine. I wish no harm to either Jews or Arabs. I just have a feeling that people like Epstein behave like spiders. And you, Harry, are naive by nature from your past lives. +You grew up in a palace where everyone respected you. You didn’t know what some people outside of your well-fed, successful circle of friends and sincere fan-girls who idolized you were capable of. And I was often humiliated by vile people and that’s why I tried to warn you from the very beginning.

Harry, if you are originally Elton John or Freddie Mercury, then everything is fine. But it’s another matter if, taking advantage of your intoxication, your wife pushes a homosexual adventure* up your ass for the purpose of blackmail in the near future. First of all, give up drugs and make an appointment with a psychologist. But remember that this psychologist can also work for the protector of your wife. Get a grip, Harry. For the sake of your children. What will they remember about their childhood? The first 6 years are the most important period in the formation of the human psyche. Then - adolescence.

I think, you must accept your mother's passing. This is your Achilles heel. Let Mom go, Harry. Her life was not so bad after all. Your mother lived a vibrant and noble life that one could only dream of. She left an unforgettable mark on the hearts of both whites and blacks. This (!) is important. Think about women in brothels in India, for example. They don’t even dare to dream about the Princess’s life. As for Diana's suspicious death, I will reveal to you the secret of the Higher Powers.

This is the meaning of your mother's suffering: Diana had to see the dark side of the black aristocracy. If she had been happy with Charles III and had not been helped to leave this world, then the hearts of her two sons would not have been pure and, perhaps, they would have been on the side of Satan. Think of it as saving the souls of Lady Di's sons. Apocalyptic times lie ahead of us. But there are few strong people with kind souls on Earth. We, the Light forces, need warriors.

However, I ask you not to immediately write a book 😉 about the fact that I am talking about the Apocalypse. People won't understand. They never understood...

Yours sincerely,

Asel

* I do not hate gays, but I would be dissapointed, if you did it with a man . Sorry, but this is not appropriate for men.

[troybeecham]

Today the Church honors St. Luke the Evangelist.

Ora pro nobis.

The Holy Apostle and Evangelist Luke, was a native of Syrian Antioch, a companion of the holy Apostle Paul (Phil.1:24, 2 Tim. 4:10-11), and a physician enlightened in the Greek medical arts. Orthodox tradition holds that after hearing about Jesus, Luke traveled to Israel and fervently accepted the preaching of salvation from the Lord Himself. As one of the Seventy Apostles, Saint Luke was sent by the Lord with the others to preach the Kingdom of Heaven during the Savior’s earthly life (Luke 10:1-3). According to Orthodox tradition, after the Resurrection, Saint Luke (and Cleopas) was one of the two disciples to whom the Lord Jesus Christ appeared on the road to Emmaus.

Saint Luke’s Gospel was written in the years AD 62-63 at Rome, under the guidance of the Apostle Paul. In the preliminary verses (1:1-3), Saint Luke precisely sets forth the purpose of his work. He proposes to record, in chronological order, everything known by Christians about Jesus Christ and His teachings. By doing this, he provided a firmer historical basis for Christian teaching (1:4). He carefully investigated the facts, and made generous use of the oral tradition of the Church and of what Mary herself had told him (2:19, 51). Luke explains his inspiration for writing in his introduction to the Gospel: "Since many have undertaken to set down an orderly account of the events that have been fulfilled among us, just as they were handed on to us by those who from the beginning were eyewitnesses and servants of the word, I too decided, after investigating everything carefully from the very first, to write an orderly account for you, most excellent Theophilus" (Luke 1:1-3).

Luke is commonly thought to be the only non-Jewish New Testament writer. It is also possible that he was a Hellenized Jew, which would account for what seems is his approach to writing as if he is an outsider. His writings place the life of Christ and the development of the early Church in the larger context of the Roman Empire and society. On the other hand, his writings are focused on Jerusalem and on the Temple. His Gospel begins and ends in the Temple, and chapters nine through nineteen portray Jesus as journeying from Galilee to Jerusalem. Similarly, the Book of Acts describes the Church in Jerusalem (and worshipping in the Temple) and then describes the missionary journeys of Paul as excursions from and returns to Jerusalem.

In Saint Luke’s Gospel, the message of the salvation made possible by the Lord Jesus Christ, and the preaching of the Gospel, are of primary importance. Luke's gospel shows special sensitivity to evangelizing Gentiles. It is only in his gospel that we hear the parable of the Good Samaritan, that we hear Jesus praising the faith of Gentiles such as the widow of Zarephath and Naaman the Syrian (Lk.4:25-27), and that we hear the story of the one grateful leper who is a Samaritan (Lk.17:11-19).

Luke's unique perspective on Jesus can be seen in the six miracles and eighteen parables not found in the other gospels. In Luke's Gospel, we find an emphasis on the human love of Christ, on His compassion for sinners and for suffering and unhappy persons, for outcasts such as the Samaritans, tax collectors, lepers, shepherds (not a respected profession), and for the poor. He is the only one who tells the parable of Lazarus and the Rich Man who ignored him. Only Luke records the parable of the Good Samaritan.

Luke also has a special connection with the women in Jesus' life, especially Mary. It is only in Luke's gospel that we hear the story of the Annunciation, Mary's visit to Elizabeth including the Magnificat, the Presentation of Jesus in the Temple and prophetess Anna, and the story of Jesus' disappearance in Jerusalem at age 12. Only in Luke's gospel do we hear Mary 's Magnificat where she proclaims that God "has brought down the powerful from their thrones, and lifted up the lowly; he has filled the hungry with good things, and sent the rich away empty" (Luke 1:52-53) when she goes to visit her cousin Elizabeth, who was pregnant with St. John the Baptist.

Forgiveness and God's mercy to sinners is also of first importance to Luke. Only in Luke do we hear the story of the Prodigal Son welcomed back by the overjoyed father. Only in Luke do we hear the story of the forgiven woman disrupting the feast by washing Jesus' feet with her tears. Throughout Luke's gospel, Jesus takes the side of the sinner who wants to return to God's mercy. Reading Luke's gospel gives a good idea of his character as one who loved the poor, who wanted the door to God's kingdom opened to all, who respected women, and who saw hope in God's mercy for everyone.

Saint Luke also wrote the Acts of the Holy Apostles at Rome around 62-63 A.D. The Book of Acts, which was originally part of his Gospel, speaks about the works and the fruits of the holy Apostles after the Ascension of the Savior. At the center of the narrative is the Council of the holy Apostles at Jerusalem in the year AD 51, a Church event of great significance, which resulted in allowing Gentiles to become disciples of Jesus without (for men) having to undergo circumcision and living under the Judaic ritual laws. This momentous decision led to the proliferation of Gentile Christians and the beginning of missionary activity in the Gentile world (Acts 15:6-29). The theological focus of the Book of Acts is the coming of the Holy Spirit, Who will guide the Church "into all truth" (John 16:13) until the Second Coming of Christ.

We have to go to Acts to follow the trail of Luke's Christian ministry following the Council of Jerusalem. We know nothing about his conversion, but looking at the language of Acts we can see where he joined Saint Paul. The story of the Acts is written in the third person, as an historian recording facts, up until the sixteenth chapter. In Acts 16:8-9 we hear of Paul's company "So, passing by Mysia, they went down to Troas. During the night Paul had a vision: there stood a man of Macedonia pleading with him and saying, 'Come over to Macedonia and help us.' " Then suddenly in 16:10 "they" becomes "we": "When he had seen the vision, we immediately tried to cross over to Macedonia, being convinced that God had called us to proclaim the good news to them."

So Luke first joined Paul's company at Troas at about the year AD 51 and accompanied him into Macedonia where they traveled first to Samothrace, Neapolis, and finally Philippi. Luke then switches back to the third person which seems to indicate he was not thrown into prison with Paul and that when Paul left Philippi, Luke stayed behind to encourage the Church there.

Seven years passed before Paul returned to the area on his third missionary journey. In Acts 20:5, the switch to "we" tells us that Luke has left Philippi to rejoin Paul in Troas in AD 58 where they first met up. They traveled together through Miletus, Tyre, Caesarea, and then to Jerusalem. Luke is the loyal comrade who stays with Paul when he is imprisoned in Rome about the year AD 61: "Epaphras, my fellow prisoner in Christ Jesus, sends greetings to you, and so do Mark, Aristarchus, Demas, and Luke, my fellow workers" (Philemon 24). And after everyone else deserts Paul in his final imprisonment and sufferings, it is Luke who remains with Paul to the end: "Only Luke is with me" (2 Timothy 4:11).

The reports of Luke's life after Paul's death are conflicting. Some early writers claim he was martyred, others say he lived a long life. Some say he preached in Greece, others in Gaul. The earliest tradition we have says that he died as a martyr at the age of 84 in Boeotia after settling in Greece to write his Gospel. Orthodox tradition holds that after the martyric death of the Apostles Peter and Paul, Saint Luke left Rome to preach in Achaia, Libya, Egypt and the Thebaid. He ended his life by suffering martyrdom in the city of Thebes.

Almighty God, who called Luke the Physician, whose praise is in the Gospel, to an Evangelist, and Physician of the soul: May it please thee that, by the wholesome medicines of the doctrine delivered by him, all the diseases of our souls may be healed; through the merits of thy Son our Savior, Jesus Christ our Lord.

Amen.

[lindajenni]

oct 9

we're almost home

"these all died in faith, not having received the promises, but having seen them afar off were assured of them, embraced them and confessed that they were strangers and pilgrims on the earth. for those who say such things declare plainly that they seek a homeland." heb 11:13-14

frankly, i'm a little surprised we are still here. we always knew to keep our eyes om israel as God's dealing with them is an indicator of his time clock and proceedings. the turmoil that has gripped the nation in recent days has the world on edge. right now it is being condemned, and as i heard someone says, "just wait and see how it is turned around on israel." i'm sure things will be happening so fast that even as i write this it may be obsolete or old news. it's changing so fast.

have you ever looked at a map and seen this tiny sliver of land totally encompassed by vast areas covered by abraham's other children seeking the demise of their brethren. "and it shall happen in that day that I will make jerusalem a very heavy stone for all peoples." zech 12:3 i personally cannot see how anyone could look at israel and the jew and not see God's hand in it all. happenings foretold centuries ago are now coming to fruition. "God is not a man, that He should lie, nor a son of man, that He should repent. has He said, and will He not do? or has He spoken, and will He not make it good?" num 23:19

it is so nearing the time to fulfill these words He spoke: "and if I go and prepare a place for you, I will come again and receive you to Myself; that where I am, there you may be also." john 14:3 yes, our blessed hope is closer than it has ever been and i am beside myself. for those of you unfamiliar with that term it means: if you are beside yourself with a particular feeling or emotion, it is so strong that it makes you almost out of control.

years ago my mentor and i used to take trips together, mostly down to galveston. as we would be nearing home, i can recall her singing a little phrase; "we're almost home" over and over. i suppose it was from when she took her children on trips and they kept asking how long in boredom.

friends, now we are the ones asking how long. we have watched through likely times and as our hope slowly escaped, we looked towards the next likely time. we have not and we will not fail to continue obeying our Lord's command: "and what I say to you, I say to all: watch!" mark 13:37

i truly believe our watch is almost over. the turmoil in israel just solidifies it in my heart. we're almost home. i can't promise for sure it will be this year but i can promise it won't be much longer. i can promise because He has promised.

what if it should be one more year? when i see things progressing so fast i can't believe it really will be, but what if? does it seem so long a time to seal a two thousand year longing? to bring to a conclusion "the time of the gentiles?" it may feel like forever in my anxious heart but my logic realizes how brief it is. what would you do with that final time and how would you spend it?

some have said there will be a final great revival and ingathering. personally i don't see it as much as i do the great apostasy and falling away. can God do it? most certainly. i hope He does because i know so many are believing for lost loved ones.

but the wrath of God, the great tribulation, is just a breath away. "for the time has come for judgment to begin at the house of God; and if it begins with us first, what will be the end of those who do not obey the gospel of God?" 1 pet 4:17 just make sure His wrath is spent on none of you.

if you have fallen away from your first love i urge you to heed the warning He gave. "nevertheless I have this against you, that you have left your first love." rev 2:4 i don't know what all "against you" entails, but i don't want to know.

i remember my first love in the flesh and i remember my first love in the Spirit. only one has endured through the years. not only endured, but grown and matured to the extent it is deeper and more precious now than when i first believed. if you have ventured off the way, go back to where you loved Jesus most. He never left. yes, we're almost home!

[thegenealogy]

1 Chronicles 26: 25-28. "Relatives."

What are relatives and why is an inheritance important in Judaism? This is the reason we are studying the genealogy, in order to discovery our obligations to our ancestors and also to our successors. They are one and the same according to the Tanakh, which means each generation of Jew has to flow downstream in the same manner according to the same direction of the currents.

During times of distress, the Tanakh predicts the coming of Mashiach who break the walls of darkness down and undam the water:

Presently, during the time of the four-fold darkness of Ikvesah deMeshicha, when the “Son of David” [i.e., Mashiach] will arrive [only] after all the souls will descend from the “Storehouse of Souls” known as Guf,1 then if the older sister will forgive [her younger sister] with complete forgiveness, this matter [of her getting married first] has been permitted [by our Sages]. It would be advisable that this forgiveness be in writing or take place in front of two witnesses.

Understandably, all this applies only if the young man is G‑d-fearing, etc.

It would also be appropriate that in addition to the forgiveness, the younger sister as well as the parents set aside some money for the wedding expenses of the elder sister, to be utilized when she becomes engaged in a good and auspicious hour.

(Igros Kodesh, Vol. XV, p. 326)

To pass the Words along is one aspect of the expenses, happiness tax on freedom is another. To invest in the future in ways completely unlike the past is the last:

25 Shubael's relatives through Eliezer:

Rehabiah his son, Jeshaiah his son, Joram his son, Zikri his son and Shelomith his son. 

Rehabiah=To expand the territory,

Jeshaiah=from the pit

Joram=to the heights

Zikri=hone the crowd into a choir

Shelomith=Enter into an agreement that creates the peace, one that is perfect, whole, complete, and safe.

26 Shelomith and his relatives were in charge of all the treasuries for the things dedicated by King David, by the heads of families who were the commanders of thousands and commanders of hundreds, and by the other army commanders. 

Recall David thinned the ranks down from the most common to the most noble. The experience of Persistent Beauty is not meant for the fickle.

27 Some of the plunder taken in battle they dedicated for the repair of the temple of the Lord. 

28 And everything dedicated by Samuel the seer and by Saul son of Kish, Abner son of Ner and Joab son of Zeruiah, and all the other dedicated things were in the care of Shelomith and his relatives.

Samuel=to provide names for the invisible attributes of the Unseen.

Saul, son of Kish=to petition of God and snare knowledge

Abner, son of Ner=the Father of Light, son of the Lamp

Joab, son of Zeruiah=Whose father is the social brotherhood, son of the "inclination", the Balsam of God...

Shelomith= "makes of mankind a Federation."

Just as the Tanakh gives us finite names that help us organize ourselves alongside and identify with the Infinite, so do well run organizations help create the magnetism between men and what must and can be known. We depend on the curiosity and research of generations past and present in order to survive. Stable, lawful, equanimous government systems ensure what has been learned over time is not lost. It is logical and desirable to create and citizen within such a government.

[medievalproject]

What's up with that? Ecclesia and Synagoga

Close up of Ecclesia and Synagoga flanking the Fürstenportal or Princely Portal of Bamberg Cathedral, July 2022

My first trip to Germany, my first encounter with Ecclesia and Synagoga. I had never seen these statues before and once I learned their names it was clear which one was which. But why are these female figures personifying the Church and the Jewish Synagogue on a Church? That led me to this post.

Ecclesia and Synagoga, the ones that survive today anyway, are most often represented by young and attractive females. Ecclesia, the Church, stands strong and confident wearing a crown and carries a chalice and staff with a cross. Synagoga is blindfolded and/or looking down and carrying a broken spear and torah scrolls.

The original Ecclesia and Synagoga from the portal of Strasbourg Cathedral now in Musée de l'Œuvre Notre-Dame

My Ecclesia at Bamberg did not have the telltale signs of the staff with a cross or the chalice. But even with that, not knowing this symbolism, I wouldn't have put together the opposing woman as the Synagogue. It seemed to me to just depict someone blind to the faith of Christianity, not everything must be about Jews..right?

According to her book on the subject The Jew, the Cathedral and the Medieval City: Synagoga and Ecclesia in the Thirteenth Century, Nina Rowe explains that Ecclesia and Synagoga are generally found on the cathedrals of larger cities in northern Europe that had significant Jewish communities, especially in Germany(!) It was meant to remind Jews of their place (as if they needed the reminder) in a Christian dominated society. She notes most portal figures are from the 13th century.

So when did the Ecclesia and Synagoga depictions start?

Wikipedia says around 830, in a Crucifixion from the Drogo Sacramentary. Pic is in the public domain.

How and Why?

Ecclesia's characteristics on Christ's right hand side are already defined, the chalice collecting his blood but the Synagoga is an old gray haired man looking up. Synagoga stayed in this form, while rare, until 12th century when she became blindfolded with a broken lance. At this later time, the emphasis of Synagoga being defeated by the Church is the main objective of its symbolism and becomes a woman.

Rowe notes this timing coincides with the increasing Jewish populations in Germany and other place in Europe. There were increasing interactions between Christian and Jewish scholars and notably their different interpretations of the Hebrew Bible. The figures became a tool to reinforce the power dynamic of the Church.

Before Ecclesia met Synagoga

For centuries before her "coupling with Synagoga," Ecclesia had her own things going on. She had long been represented as the Bride of Christ taking the form of a queen. The Book of Revelation mentions "the Bride" many times and the Gospel of John talks of Christ as a "bridegroom."

Judith Glatzer Weshler expounds in A Change in the Iconography of the Song of Songs in 12th and 13th century Latin Bible, that Ecclesia imagery was sometimes conflated with the Virgin Mary, where Mary herself was depicted as the Church.

This timing is in line with the shift Nina Rowe talks about, when the portal figures appear on cathedrals. In general the 13th century was a particularly shitty time for Jews. But that's a whole other post.

Ecclesia enthroned, Prüfening Abbey, Bavaria, 12th century

There is a precedence in the Old Testament for the symbolism between God and people, via the Song of Songs, a poem that celebrates sexual love between a man and a woman.

Jewish tradition reads it as an allegory of the relationship between God and Israel, the Jewish people. 

Christianity interprets it as an allegory of Christ and his bride, the Church.

In her incredible book, "Mother of God, A History of the Virgin Mary," Miri Rubin writes about a Christian theologian, Origen (c 185- c 254) who advised early Christian followers to market and substantiate their new religion to potential Jewish converts. He thought by focusing on the Jewish Bible, the one they already knew, they could position "Christianity truth" as the revealing of new, necessary, inescapable reinterpretation of the text they thought they knew.

Origen engrossed himself particularly in the Jewish commentary of the Songs of Songs where he found messaging to fit a Christian paradigm, and replaced the Church as the bride of Christ.

Links for more:

Ecclesia and Synagoga

Wikipedia - Song of Songs

[seekfirst-community]

The following reflection is courtesy of Don Schwager © 2023. Don's website is located at Dailyscripture.net

Meditation: When accusations are brought against you, how do you respond and where do you turn for help? The Book of Daniel tells the story of Susanna, a godly woman who loved God and his word. She was unjustly accused of adultery by two elder judges who had tried to seduce her. Since adultery was a serious offense punishable by stoning to death, the law of Moses required at least two witnesses, rather than one, to convict a person. Susanna knew she had no hope of clearing her good reputation and escaping death apart from God's merciful intervention. Daniel tells us that she looked up to heaven and cried out to the Lord for his help (Daniel 13:35). The two elders who wanted to sin with her had done just the opposite - they hid themselves from God's sight and they kept their secret sin hidden from the people as well. They brought false charges against her in revenge for her refusal to sin with them. God in his mercy heard the plea of Susanna and he punished the two elders for giving false witness.

Unjust accusations against Jesus

The Gospel accounts frequently describe how Jesus had to face unjust accusations made by the Pharisees, the ruling elders of Israel. They were upset with Jesus' teaching and they wanted to discredit him in any way they could. They wanted to not only silence him, but to get rid of him because of his claim to speak with God's authority. When a moral dilemma or difficult legal question arose, it was typical for the Jews to take the matter to a rabbi for a decision. The scribes and the Pharisees brought to Jesus a woman who had been caught in the act of adultery. John writes that they wanted to "test" Jesus on the issue of retribution so " they might have some charge to bring against him" (John 8:6).

Jewish law treated adultery as a serious crime since it violated God's ordinance and wreaked havoc on the stability of marriage and family life. It was one of the three gravest sins punishable by death. If Jesus said the woman must be pardoned, he would be accused of breaking the law of Moses. If he said the woman must be stoned, he would lose his reputation for being the merciful friend of sinners.

Jesus then does something quite unexpected - he begins to write in the sand. The word for "writing" which is used here in the Gospel text has a literal meaning "to write down a record against someone" (for another example see Job 13:26). Perhaps Jesus was writing down a list of the sins of the accusers standing before him. Jesus now turns the challenge towards his accusers. In effect he says: Go ahead and stone her! But let the man who is without sin be the first to cast a stone. The Lord leaves the matter to their own consciences.

Pardon, restoration, and new life

When the adulterous woman is left alone with Jesus, he both expresses mercy and he strongly exhorts her to not sin again. The scribes wished to condemn, Jesus wished to forgive and to restore the sinner to health. His challenge involved a choice - either to go back to her former way of sin and death or to reach out to God's offer of forgiveness, restoration, and new life in his kingdom of peace and righteousness. Jesus gave her pardon and a new start on life. God's grace enables us to confront our sin for what it is - unfaithfulness to God, and to turn back to God with a repentant heart and a thankful spirit for God's mercy and forgiveness. Do you know the joy of repentance and a clean conscience?

"God our Father, we find it difficult to come to you, because our knowledge of you is imperfect. In our ignorance we have imagined you to be our enemy; we have wrongly thought that you take pleasure in punishing our sins; and we have foolishly conceived you to be a tyrant over human life. But since Jesus came among us, he has shown that you are loving, that you are on our side against all that stunts life, and that our resentment against you was groundless. So we come to you, asking you to forgive our past ignorance, and wanting to know more and more of you and your forgiving love, through Jesus Christ our Lord. (Prayer of Saint Augustine) "

The following reflection is from One Bread, One Body courtesy of Presentation Ministries © 2023.

the holy spirit and the culture of death

“The Lord heard her prayer. As she was being led to execution, God stirred up the holy spirit of a young boy named Daniel, and he cried aloud.” —Daniel 13:44-46

Susanna was “a very beautiful and God-fearing woman” (Dn 13:2). “Her pious parents had trained their daughter according to the law of Moses” (Dn 13:3). Susanna was happily married to Joakim, a very rich man who was the most respected of all the Jews in Babylon (Dn 13:4). Susanna was blessed with children in her marriage (Dn 13:30). She was a very holy, beautiful woman, a beloved daughter, faithful wife, and devoted mother.

Then two wicked judges tried to force her to commit adultery with them by threatening to falsely accuse her of adultery and condemn her to death, if she did not give in to them. Susanna, however, chose to remain pure, faithful, and holy, even though she would lose her life, good reputation, marriage, and family (Dn 13:23). This was not the first evil act these judges had committed. They had subverted justice by “passing unjust sentences, condemning the innocent, and freeing the guilty” (Dn 13:53). They had also sexually abused several other women (Dn 13:57).

The Lord saved Susanna’s life and reputation. He saved Susanna’s husband, parents, and children from being disgraced and traumatized. He stopped the judges’ subversion of justice and sexual abuse, which had gone on for years. The Lord transformed a perverted society by stirring up “the holy spirit of a young boy named Daniel” (Dn 13:45).

We also need the Holy Spirit to be stirred up in us (see 2 Tm 1:6-7) and transform our culture of death into a civilization of life and love. Come, Holy Spirit, this Lent, Easter, and Pentecost!

Prayer:  Holy Spirit, cry out in my heart “Abba” (“Father”) (Gal 4:6).

Promise:  “Nor do I condemn you. You may go. But from now on, avoid this sin.” —Jn 8:11

Praise:  Jesus healed Bernice from depression.

Reference:  

Rescript:  "In accord with the Code of Canon Law, I hereby grant the Nihil Obstat for the publication One Bread, One Body covering the time period from February 1, 2023 through March 31, 2023. Reverend Steve J. Angi, Chancellor, Vicar General, Archdiocese of Cincinnati, Cincinnati, Ohio June 15, 2022"

The Nihil Obstat ("Permission to Publish") is a declaration that a book or pamphlet is considered to be free of doctrinal or moral error. It is not implied that those who have granted the Nihil Obstat agree with the contents, opinions, or statements

[miajolensdevotion]

November 11, 2020

Verse: JOHN 18:1-27 Write/ Copy Gods words :

Jesus Arrested(A) 18 When he had finished praying, Jesus left with his disciples and crossed the Kidron Valley.(B) On the other side there was a garden,(C) and he and his disciples went into it.(D) 2 Now Judas, who betrayed him, knew the place, because Jesus had often met there with his disciples.(E) 3 So Judas came to the garden, guiding(F) a detachment of soldiers and some officials from the chief priests and the Pharisees.(G) They were carrying torches, lanterns and weapons. 4 Jesus, knowing all that was going to happen to him,(H) went out and asked them, “Who is it you want?”(I) 5 “Jesus of Nazareth,”(J) they replied. “I am he,” Jesus said. (And Judas the traitor was standing there with them.) 6 When Jesus said, “I am he,” they drew back and fell to the ground. 7 Again he asked them, “Who is it you want?”(K) “Jesus of Nazareth,” they said. 8 Jesus answered, “I told you that I am he. If you are looking for me, then let these men go.” 9 This happened so that the words he had spoken would be fulfilled: “I have not lost one of those you gave me.”a 10 Then Simon Peter, who had a sword, drew it and struck the high priest’s servant, cutting off his right ear. (The servant’s name was Malchus.) 11 Jesus commanded Peter, “Put your sword away! Shall I not drink the cup(M) the Father has given me?” 12 Then the detachment of soldiers with its commander and the Jewish officials(N) arrested Jesus. They bound him 13 and brought him first to Annas, who was the father-in-law of Caiaphas,(O) the high priest that year. 14 Caiaphas was the one who had advised the Jewish leaders that it would be good if one man died for the people.(P)

Peter’s First Denial(Q) 15 Simon Peter and another disciple were following Jesus. Because this disciple was known to the high priest,(R) he went with Jesus into the high priest’s courtyard,(S) 16 but Peter had to wait outside at the door. The other disciple, who was known to the high priest, came back, spoke to the servant girl on duty there and brought Peter in. 17 “You aren’t one of this man’s disciples too, are you?” she asked Peter. He replied, “I am not.”(T) 18 It was cold, and the servants and officials stood around a fire(U) they had made to keep warm. Peter also was standing with them, warming himself.(V)

The High Priest Questions Jesus(W) 19 Meanwhile, the high priest questioned Jesus about his disciples and his teaching. 20 “I have spoken openly to the world,” Jesus replied. “I always taught in synagogues(X) or at the temple,(Y) where all the Jews come together. I said nothing in secret.(Z) 21 Why question me? Ask those who heard me. Surely they know what I said.” 22 When Jesus said this, one of the officials(AA) nearby slapped him in the face.(AB) “Is this the way you answer the high priest?” he demanded. 23 “If I said something wrong,” Jesus replied, “testify as to what is wrong. But if I spoke the truth, why did you strike me?”(AC) 24 Then Annas sent him bound to Caiaphas(AD) the high priest.

Peter’s Second and Third Denials(AE) 25 Meanwhile, Simon Peter was still standing there warming himself.(AF) So they asked him, “You aren’t one of his disciples too, are you?” He denied it, saying, “I am not.”(AG) 26 One of the high priest’s servants, a relative of the man whose ear Peter had cut off,(AH) challenged him, “Didn’t I see you with him in the garden?”(AI) 27 Again Peter denied it, and at that moment a rooster began to crow.(AJ)

What is your Favorite verse(s):

20 “I have spoken openly to the world,” Jesus replied. “I always taught in synagogues(X) or at the temple,(Y) where all the Jews come together. I said nothing in secret.(Z) 21 Why question me? Ask those who heard me. Surely they know what I said.”

Explain in your own words what you just read. When Jesus have finish praying, he left with his disciples & cross the Kidron Valley. On the other side there are an olive grove & he & his disciples go in to it. Now Judas, who betray him, know the place, because Jesus have sometimes met there with his disciples. So Judas come to the grove, guide a separation of soldier & some official chief priest & Pharisee. They was carry torch, langern & weapon. Jesus know all that are going to happen to him, go out & ask them “who is it you want?” They reply “Jesus of Nazareth” Jesus say “I am He” & Judas the traitor are stand there with them. When Jesus say “I am He” they draw back & fall to the ground. He ask again “who is it you want?” & they say “Jesus of Nazareth” Jesus answer “I tell you that I He, if you are looking for me, then let these men go” This happen so that the word he have speak will be fulfilled “I have not lost one of those you give me” Simon, Peter, who have a sword draw it & struck the high priest servant, cut off his right ear. The servant name was Machus. Jesus command Peter “put your sword away! Shall I not drink the cup the Father has given me?” The detach of soldier with their commander & the Jewish official arrest Jesus. They bind him & bring him first to Annas, who is the father in law of Caiaphas, the high priest of that year. Caiaphas is the ine who have advise the Jew that it will be good if one man die for the people.

Commitment / what will i do : I will continue to believe that Jesus Christ speak only the truth

[lesfeldickbiblestudy]

  Through the Bible with Les Feldick LESSON 2 * PART 2 * BOOK 56 The True Light - Part 2 I John 2:1-29 We invite you to just search the Scriptures with us. Compare Scripture with Scripture and remember that someday you’re not going to stand before the Lord and plead that you were loyal to your denomination. That’s not going to hold water. But, you’re going to be judged as Romans says, according to Paul’s Gospel. A lot of people don’t know that verse is in the Bible, either. That’s what Paul says in Romans 2:16 that "every man will be judged by Jesus Christ according to my gospel." And what is Paul’s Gospel of salvation? To believe in your heart that Jesus died for you, was buried and rose again. As Paul declares in I Corinthians 15:1-4. If you believe that, and that only, for salvation, then God saves you to the uttermost, and forever! And of course, that’s why we hold forth the Pauline Scriptures as paramount (not them only, but they are paramount because of course, they are written to the Gentiles in particular, the Jews of course as well, during this Age of Grace). So, this is our ministry – to just simply teach the Book and help people to understand it, and see how it is divided, so that you will know what Scriptures you can claim for doctrine in this Church Age. All right, we’re in I John chapter 2 and we’re ready to go into verse 3. Now again, I’m going to constantly be showing you how Jewish, and in accord with the Four Gospels, all these little letters are. Now this next verse just rings a bell. This isn’t Paul. This is John. I John 2:3 "And hereby we do know that we know him, if we keep his commandments." Now goodness, where does that ring a bell from? Well, go back with me to Matthew chapter 19 – and every time I use this verse I have to remember a phone call several years ago where a lady called and said, "Les I’m totally confused." I said, "What’s the matter?" She continued, "Well, yesterday morning my priest’s subject was Matthew 19," (Matthew 19 verses 16 and 17, and that was his sermon.) And she said, "This morning on your program, you’re telling us we’re not under the Law and the Commandments; we’re under Grace. Now I’m confused." Well now I didn’t bring you back here to confuse you – I brought you back here to see how this is exactly the same language that John uses in his little epistle as is used in the Four Gospels. All right, Jesus is speaking in Matthew 19. Matthew 19:16-17 "And, behold, one came and said unto him, Good Master, what good thing shall I do, that I may have eternal life? 17. And he (Jesus) said unto him, Why callest thou me good? there is none good but one, that is, God: But, if thou wilt enter into life, (that is eternal life) keep the (what?) commandments." Keep the Commandments. That was His answer. All right, now come back to I John and the Spirit now inspires John to write (since we’re dealing with believing Jews, not Gentiles), and he says, "If you really know the Messiah, Jesus of Nazareth, then you’ll ‘keep his commandments.’" Now I’ll be the first to admit that he’s not talking about just the Ten – he’s talking about all the ramifications of the Law. But it’s still the Law that he’s dealing with. Now verse 4. I John 2:4-5a "He that saith, I know him, and keepeth not his commandments, is a liar, and the truth is not in him. (well, that’s basically what Jesus told the Jews of His own day) 5. But whoso keepeth his word, in him verily is the (what?) the love of God perfected:.…" Now remember what I told you in the last program? John is the Apostle who is the epitome of love, and you’re going to see it throughout his writings. The love of God as it’s brought out through this disciple of love. Now finishing the verse. I John 2:5b-6 "…hereby know we that we are in him. 6. He that saith he abideth in him ought himself also so to walk, even as he walked." Well, now I know somebody’s going to jump at me and say, "Wait a minute. John is using the same language of Paul, of being ‘in Christ.’" Well, it’s not in the same connotation.

Come back with me to John’s Gospel again, chapter 15, the chapter on the vine, and you’ll see it’s the same kind of language. Now that’s what I’m going to be doing from these little epistles. I did it with Peter, you remember, several months back. I took the very same words that Peter used and showed you that it was what God told Moses in Exodus, that "you are a kingdom of priests. You are a peculiar people." All those same words Peter used in his little epistle. Well, it’s the same way with John now in his epistle and in his Gospel. Remember there’s nothing of the Gospel of Grace here yet. This is all Kingdom economy. John writes: John 15:4-5 "Abide in me, and I in you. As the branch cannot bear fruit of itself, except it abide in the vine; no more can ye, except ye abide (where?) in me. (do you see the language?) 5. I am the vine, ye are the branches: He that abideth in me, and I in him, the same bringeth forth much fruit: for without me ye can do nothing." And so on and so forth. And so the whole concept of these Jewish believers being in Christ, or in Jesus, and Jesus in them, that was nothing new. But it’s on a whole different plane than what Paul teaches as being members of the Body of Christ. So let’s read that verse in I John again, just to ring the bell coming out of John’s Gospel. I John 2:6-7a "He that saith he abideth in him ought himself also so to walk, even as he walked. 7. Brethren, I write no new commandment unto you, but an old commandment which ye had from the beginning…." Well now goodness sakes, as John’s writes, what’s the beginning? His earthly ministry. As He begins his earthly ministry, this is what they’d been hearing. Love. And love is the fulfilling of everything. I John 2:8-9 "Again, a new commandment I write unto you, which thing is true in him and in you: because the darkness is past, and the true light now shineth. 9. He that saith he’s in the light, and hateth his brother, is in darkness, even until now." All right, let’s go back to John’s Gospel again and let’s go back to chapter 1. My goodness, the whole Gospel of John is full of these things, ‘the Light and the Love.’ All right, John’s Gospel chapter 1, and here, John in agreement with Paul, is giving creation, or giving the credit for creation, to Jesus the Christ. John 1:3-7 "All things were made by him; (By the Word, Christ, up in verse 1, He’s the Creator.) and without him was not any thing made that was made. 4. In him was life; and the life was(now here it comes. Was the what?) the light of men. 5. And the light shineth in darkness; and the darkness comprehended it not. 6. There was a man sent from God, whose name was John (and, of course, that’s the Baptist.) 7. The same came for a witness, to bear witness of the (what?) Light, (L-i-g-h-t capitalized. The Light of the world.) that all men through him might (what?) believe." There you have the potential again, see? It’s all there to be appropriated if they would just believe it. John 1:8 "He (John the Baptist) was not that Light, but was sent to bear witness of that Light." And of course that came out of the Old Testament prophecies didn’t it? Malachi wrote that there would come an announcer, a proclaimer, that the King was coming. All right, that was John the Baptist. But now verse 9. John 1:9 "That, (that is Jesus) was the true Light, which lighteth every man that cometh into the world." Now there’s a verse I’ve said before – I can’t comprehend it. I don’t expect any human being to comprehend it. I don’t know how He did it, but He did because the Book says so. And there again, this fits right with what I said in the last program. When Christ finished the work of the Cross, He was able to offer forgiveness to the whole human race. A done deal. He was able to offer reconciliation to the whole human race. It was done. But it didn’t do them any good until they appropriated it by faith. Well, the ‘Light’ is the same way. This Light lighted every human being that has ever lived. And don’t ask me how, but that’s what the Book says.

Read it again. Speaking of Jesus Who was the True Light "Which lighteth every man that cometh into the world." Now that doesn’t take away our need for missionaries. But on the other hand, it explains why Paul says what he says in Romans chapter 1. Now I guess I’d better go there. Keep your hand in John, I’m not through there. Come back with me to Romans chapter 1 where, before I saw John 1:9, I again was up against it with this verse. Romans 1 verse 20. And I still can’t explain it except for what John says. Romans 1:20a "For the invisible things of him from the creation of the world are clearly seen, being understood by the things that are made, even his eternal power and Godhead;...." Every human being has some sort of an understanding of that. I couldn’t understand for the longest time, consequently: Romans 1:20b "…so that they are without excuse." Awesome, isn’t it? That’s why the masses of humanity out there in darkness are lost. They’re going to eternal doom. I don’t care what the Universalists say – I don’t care what anybody else may say. The Scripture teaches that they’re going to an everlasting doom. But they don’t have to! Because they’ve had the Light. And since they’ve had the Light, God, in total justice, as Paul says, can send them to that doom and they don’t have a word of excuse. Now let’s go back and see how it happens in Revelation chapter 20. Revelation chapter 20 verse 11. These things aren’t proclaimed much from the pulpits anymore. Most people are afraid to. But look what it says: Revelation 20:11-14 "And I saw a great white throne, and him who sat on it, (Jesus the Christ) from whose face the earth and the heaven fled away; and there was found no place for them. (now at this Great White Throne) 12. And I saw the dead, small and great (all the way from Cain, who I think is the first lost man in the human race, to the very end) stand before God; (now God in this case will be Jesus Christ.) and the books (plural) were opened: and another book was opened, which is the book of life: and the dead (the lost, all the way back to Cain) were judged out of those things which were written in the books, according to their works. 13. And the sea gave up the dead which were in it; and death and hell delivered up the dead which were in them: and they were judged every man according to their works. 14. And death and hell were cast into the lake of fire. This is the second death." The first death was physical when they went from this life into the tomb. The second death is when they will be removed from God’s presence for all eternity. And then verse 15 settles it. This drives the final nail into it. Revelation 20:15 "And whosoever was not found written in the book of life, was cast into the lake of fire." Now that’s plain English. There’s no gobbledy-gook to it. All right, so now then, when you come back to John’s Gospel, the reason God can cast them into that eternal doom is because they had received enough Light to have escaped it, but they rejected it. And we’re seeing it all around us. My goodness, you try to talk to people about the truth of Scripture and they either turn away or they get mad. But let God be God. All right, back to John’s Gospel, chapter 1 again. John 1:9-10 "That was the true Light, which lighteth every man that cometh into the world. (now then, speaking again of Christ the Light) 10. He was in the world, (in His earthly ministry) and the world was made by him, (He’s the Creator) and the world knew him not." And I’ve said it on the program– do you ever stop to think that the Roman soldiers that drove the spike into His hands were created by the One Whom they were killing? The cross came out of a tree that was made by the One Whom they were killing. The hill on which it stood was made by the One Whom they were killing. Can you feature that? And yet He never lifted a hand against them. John 1:11-12 "He came unto his own, (the Nation of Israel. Proclaimed that He was the One they were looking for, but in their unbelief they what?) and his own received him not.

12. But as many as received him, to them gave he power to become the sons of God, even to them that believe on his name:" In other words, recognized Who He was, which was the heart of the Kingdom Gospel, to believe that Jesus was Who He claimed to be. And so, throughout John’s Gospel then, you have those two concepts. In fact let’s go to chapter 3 verses 19, 20 and 21. This is still that ‘Light’ concept. That’s why I came back here. Verse 19. John 3:19-21 "And this is the condemnation, that light is come into the world, and men loved darkness rather than light, because their deeds were evil. 20. For every one that doeth evil hateth the light, neither cometh to the light, lest his deeds should be reproved. 21. But he that doeth truth cometh to the light, that his deeds may be made manifest, that they are wrought in God." All right let’s go all the way back to the Old Testament to Isaiah chapter 42. This is just to show you that this is a total continuation of my timeline that we had on the board here several programs back – that everything (from Abraham all the way through the Old Testament, into Christ’s first coming, His earthly ministry, His death, burial, resurrection, His ascension and then the seven years of Tribulation and the 1,000-year Kingdom) was all part and parcel of the prophetic Scriptures – prophecy. So this is prophecy. Isaiah 42:6 "I the LORD have called thee in righteousness, (now I think here it’s speaking of the Nation of Israel) and will hold thine hand, and will keep thee, and give thee for a covenant of the people, (for what purpose?) for a light of the Gentiles." And so this whole concept of God’s light being shed abroad is nothing new. It came up through all the prophecies of the Old Testament. It was part and parcel of His earthly ministry. And now with that past, now these little epistles (especially John back here), is again going to epitomize the ‘Light’ factor. All right, I John again. Verse 9, repeating it, as that’s where we just left off: I John 2:9 "He that saith he is in the light, (in other words, he is a believer. He has recognized that Jesus is indeed the Light of the World. Now if he says he’s in the light) and hateth his brother,(well then he’s a liar, and) is in darkness even until now." He’s not in the light, he’s still in darkness if he hates his brother. Now verse 10. I John 2:10-11 "He that loveth his brother abideth in the light, and there is none occasion of stumbling in him. 11. But (now here’s the other side of the coin again) he that hateth his brother is in darkness, and walketh in darkness, and knoweth not whither he goeth, because that darkness hath blinded his eyes." All right, now John speaks of a blindness. Come back with me again to II Corinthians chapter 4, where Paul also speaks of a blindness, and a light, both. II Corinthians 4:3-4 "But (Paul writes) if our gospel (the one of I Corinthians 15:1-4) be hid, it is hid to them that are (what?) lost: (the lost person is stumbling in a spiritual darkness. He can’t see to put one foot ahead of the other, spiritually speaking) 4. In whom (these people walking in spiritual darkness) the god of this world (Satan) hath blinded the minds of them who believe not, lest the (here it comes now) light of the glorious gospel of Christ, who is the image of God, should shine unto them." So who keeps the Light from shining into the heart and mind of the unbeliever? Satan does. And he’ll use anything and everything at his disposal. Now today I think people are being blinded with activity. Everybody is busy, busy, busy. Materialism is all they can think about. And then on top of that we have all the smut and the rot of an immoral society. And all of this is part and parcel of Satan’s veil of darkness to keep people from seeing the Light of Truth. All right look at I John verse 11 one more time. Let’s repeat it in light of what Paul just wrote the Corinthians. I think this is so apropos. I John 2:11a "But he that hateth his brother is in darkness, and walketh in darkness,.…"

Now have you ever walked in pitch dark? Boy, it’s just about enough to drive you inside out, isn’t it? And you just don’t know what to do next. Pitch darkness – well, that’s where the lost person is. He is just constantly fumbling and stumbling, not knowing which way to go next. Well, so is the brother in darkness. They have no concept of eternity. They have no concept anymore of right and wrong. My, I think with every passing week it’s getting truer that these people are calling white things black and black things white. Right things wrong and wrong things right. It’s just compounding. Why? Because they’re stumbling in the dark. Now we’ll close with a couple of more verses. I John 2:12 "I write unto you, little children, because your sins are forgiven you for his name’s sake." Now remember he’s writing to Jewish believers still in the Kingdom economy, but they had experienced forgiveness because they recognized Who Jesus really was. I John 2:13a "I write unto you, fathers, because ye have known him that is from the beginning,.…" Now that, I think, you can take it back, either from the beginning of His earthly ministry to the Nation of Israel, or you can take it all the way back to Creation. However you want to do it. But He’s from everlasting to everlasting. I John 2:13b-14 "…I write unto you, young men, (now he’s speaking in terms of family ages, the fathers to the sons) because ye have overcome the wicked one. I write unto you little children, (now we’re coming down to the younger element of the family) because ye have known the Father. 14. I have written unto you, fathers, because ye have known him that is from the beginning. I have written unto you, young men, because ye are strong, and the word of God abideth in you, and ye have overcome the wicked one." How did they overcome him? By their faith.

[barbaramoorersm]

August 28, 2022

August 28, 2022

The Twenty-Second Sunday in Ordinary Time

 The Book of Sirach 3: 17-18,20, 28-28

This Old Testament reading offers us wisdom regarding our daily lives.

 Psalm 69

The Psalmist speaks of God’s qualities.

 Hebrews 12: 18-19, 22-24a

The author writes about of the power of Jerusalem and then the role that Jesus plays in that history.

 Luke 14: 1, 7-14

Jesus shares a parable while at a dinner event.

 There are three aspects to this Gospel.  The first is the behavior of some people toward Jesus while he is having dinner at a home of a “leading” Pharisee.  The second is a parable which focuses on those who choose places of honor at the table and lastly, Jesus offers the host some difficult advice.

 Jesus was sharing a dinner given by a “leading” Pharisee on the Sabbath and people “were observing him carefully”.  Were they watching just to witness and catch his observance of the Sabbath regulations or were they genuinely interested in him, his behavior and message?  My guess would be the former. Perhaps the “leading” Pharisee was asked to host him to observe his behavior and message. Or he might have been drawn to this itinerant preacher. Whatever the reason, Jesus was creating a stir among the people.  For some he was the long-expected Messiah for others, he was a threat to their traditional views and values.  

Have you ever experienced something like the observation Jesus is facing? Back in the 1990’s, when Bishop Clark was still in office the church was facing a division regarding the role of lay preachers, mostly women and whether they were violating church law.  Bishop Clark allowed a dialogue homily with the priest opening the reflection.  I was preaching at St Patrick’s in Macedon and noticed a man filming me from the back of church.  When asked by a young server what he was doing, he answered that he was filming for a class.  I think he had other issues and also, he never asked permission to engage in filming during Mass.  It was unnerving to say the least, because some folks were looking for ways to end the practice.  But that was a minor event.  Think of what Jesus was experiencing at this dinner table.  He saw them watching what he did and said, and we know this kind of behavior follows him throughout his ministry. “What can we find to use against him?  How is he violating the law?”  “We have to find a way to eliminate this threat.”

Then Jesus shares a powerful parable which flows from his observation of the guests coming into the “leading” Pharisee's home. As they observed him, he was carefully watching them and used their behavior as a teaching moment.  Not a moment of entrapment but of a moment of wisdom. Choosing places of honor reflects your opinion of yourself, but may also cause you to be embarrassed if your place was saved for someone else.  Thus, Jesus’ wisdom, “For whoever exalts himself will be humbled and whoever humbles himself will be exulted”. We see modern day examples of this wisdom.  Political candidates who claim credentials and life experience they do not have and educators fired from positions who claim degrees thy never earned.  

Finally, Jesus offers suggestions about guest lists. My sense is he does not mean this for every dinner party we hold, but he is asking all of us to be inclusive in our attitudes, actions and decisions.  And beneath that advice he notes that if we only do things to be repaid that is very self-serving.

Before we leave this reflection let’s for a few moments stay with our first reading from the Book of Sirach.  Written by a faithful Jew around 200 years before the birth of Christ this book is not found in the Jewish Biblical canon but the text is rich in wisdom.  The book begins with the praise of the gift of wisdom which the author describes as “she’.

“My child, conduct your affairs with humility.” In other words, understand yourself, your strengths and weaknesses and try to avoid arrogance.  There is a truthfulness about a humble person.  It is also important to note that humility does not mean self-abasement, but rather it is a deep honesty about ourselves and others.   Finally, one further quote from Sirach which seems to be at the heart of Jesus’ message.

“Wisdom teaches her children and gives help to those who seek her. Whoever loves her loves life, and those who seek her from early morning are filled with joy. Whoever holds her fast inherits glory, and the Lord blesses the place she enters. Do not let your hand be stretched out to receive and closed when it is time to give”. (4: 11-12, 31)

[bailey-writes]

So You Want Your OC to be Jewish

So you’re writing a story and you want to make a Jewish character—great! I’m here to help. I always want more Jewish representation but I want good Jewish representation, so this is my attempt to make a guide to making a Jewish character. What are my credentials? I’m Jewish and have been my whole life. Obligatory disclaimer that this is by no means comprehensive, I don’t know everything, all Jews are different, and this is based on my experiences as an American Jew so I have no idea, what, if any, of this applies to non-American Jews. 

If there’s anything you want me to make a post going more into detail about or if there’s anything I didn’t mention but you want to know please ask me! I hope this is helpful :) Warning, this is long.

Jew PSA

If you are Jewish you can use the word Jew(s), e.g. “She’s dating a Jew.” If you are not Jewish you cannot use the word Jew(s). This is not up for debate. Non-Jews calling us Jews has a negative connotation at best. Don’t do it and don’t have your characters do it.

Basics, Plus My Random Thoughts that Didn’t Fit Anywhere Else

A confusing enduring issue is, what is Judaism? It’s a religion, but some Jews aren’t religious; is it a race? A nationality? A culture? A heritage? The only constant is that we are seen as “other.” There’s a lot of debate, which makes it confusing to be Jewish and as such it’s common for Jews to struggle with their Jewish Identity. However many people agree that Jews are an ethnoreligious group, aka Judaism is a religion and an ethnicity.

Temple/Synagogue/Shul = Jewish place of worship. Shul is usually used for Orthodox synagogues.

Keeping kosher = following Jewish dietary rules: meat and dairy can’t be eaten together and you can’t eat pork or shellfish. Fish and eggs are pareve (aka neutral) and can be eaten with meat or dairy (but again not both at the same time.) When eating meat it has to be kosher meat (e.g. kosher Jews are allowed to eat chicken, but not all chicken is kosher. I know it’s kinda confusing I’m sorry.) Kosher products in stores will have symbols on them to identify them as kosher. If someone is kosher they’ll probably have separate sets of utensils/plates/cookware/etc. for meat and dairy

Shabbat/Shabbos/Sabbath = holy day of the week, day of rest, lasts from sundown Friday to sundown Saturday. Depending on observance Jews might have Shabbat dinner, attend Shabbat services, or observe the day of rest in its entirety (making them shomer Shabbat)

Someone who is shomer Shabbat will refrain from any of the prohibited activities. These can easily be looked up but include: working, writing, handling money, cooking, and using technology.

Bat/Bar/B’nai Mitvzah = tradition where a Jewish boy/girl becomes a man/woman. Celebrated at 13-years-old for boys, 12- or 13-years-old for girls. Girls have Bat Mitzvahs (bat means daughter in Hebrew), boys have Bar Mitzvahs (bar means son in Hebrew) and twins or two or more people having one together have a B’nai Mitzvah. They will study for this for months and then help lead services and, depending on observance level, read from the Torah. The ceremony is often attended by family and friends and followed with a celebration of sorts (in America usually this means a brunch and/or party.)

Goy/gentile = non-Jew. These words are not slurs, they are literally just words. Plural of goy is goyim and is a Yiddish word, plural of gentile is gentiles.

Jewish holidays follow the Hebrew calendar, meaning that according to the current solar/Gregorian calendar the dates of our holidays are different each year.

Jewish law recognizes matrilineal inheritance. This means that Jewish law states your mother has to be Jewish for you to be Jewish. This is because of reasons from biblical times that I can explain if you wanna come ask, but as you can imagine is a bit outdated. While Orthodox Jews might embrace this idea and only consider someone Jewish if their mom is Jewish, many Jews are more flexible on the idea (and yes, this does cause tension between Orthodox Jews and other Jews at times.)

Judaism =/= Christianity

Some people think Judaism is just Christianity without Jesus (some people don’t even realize we don’t believe in/celebrate Jesus so newsflash, we don’t) and that’s just wrong. Yes both religions share the Old Testament, so they also share some history and beliefs, but the entire ideologies of the religions are different. In brief, they are similar in some ways but are not the same.

What seems to me to be the biggest difference is that Christianity (from what I understand) has a heavy focus on sins, more specifically repenting for/gaining forgiveness for your sins. In Christianity you are born tainted by original sin. In Judaism we believe everyone is born pure and free from sin and everyone is made in God’s image. Judaism has some concept of sin, but doesn’t focus on them and instead focuses on performing Mitzvot (plural, singular form is mitzvah. Direct translation is “commandment” but basically means good deed or act of kindness. It also relates to the commandments, so following the commandments is also performing mitzvot.) Examples of mitzvot include anything from saying a prayer or lighting Shabbat candles to helping a stranger or donating to charity (called tzedakah). One of the main tenets of Judaism is tikkun olam, which directly translates to “repair the world” and means exactly what it says on the tin. Instead of focusing on being forgiven for doing bad Judaism focuses on doing good. The only day we focus on past wrongdoings is Yom Kippur, one of our most holy holidays, discussed below.

Holidays

Rosh Hashanah – The Jewish New Year, occurs around September and lasts for two days, though Reform Jews often only celebrate the first day. Day of happiness and joy, celebrated by eating sweet things for a “sweet new year” (often apples dipped in honey) and circular challah to represent the end of one year and beginning of another. Also celebrated with services and blowing the shofar (rams horn.) Some spend the day in prayer and/or silent meditation. Possible greetings: chag sameach (happy holiday; can be said on almost any holiday), Shana Tovah, or happy new year (which is what Shana Tovah means, some people just say it in English.)

Yom Kippur – Day of Atonement. Occurs ten days after the start of Rosh Hashanah. One of if not the most solemn day for Jews, but also the most holy. The day is spent reflecting on yourself and any past wrongdoings and atoning. The day (sundown the night before to sundown the day of) is spent fasting, a physical way of atoning. We do this in hopes of being “written in the Book of Life” and starting the year with a clean slate. The shofar is blown at the end of the holiday. Most Jews will end the fast with a grand meal with family and friends. Most common greeting is “have an easy fast,” but happy new year is still appropriate.

Sukkot – Celebrates the harvest, occurs on the fifth day after Yom Kippur and lasts seven days. Celebrated by building a temporary hut outdoors called a sukkah and having meals inside it, as well as shaking palm fronds tied together (called a lulav) and holding a citrus called an etrog. Very fun and festive holiday. Possible greetings include chag sameach or Happy Sukkot.

Shemini Atzeret and Simchat Torah – Some Jews (mostly Reform Jews and Jews living in Israel) combine both holidays into one day while some celebrate them as two separate days. Either way they occur immediately after Sukkot. Shemini Atzeret is similar but separate from Sukkot and features a prayer for rain; Sukkot is not mentioned in prayers and the lulav isn’t shaken but you do eat in the sukkah. Simchat Torah celebrates finishing reading the Torah, which we will then begin again the next day. It’s a festive holiday with dancing and fun. Some Temples will roll the entire Torah out and the children will run under it. Appropriate greeting for both would be chag sameach.

Rosh Hashanah through Simchat Torah are referred to as the High Holidays.

Chanukah – We all know about Chanukah, celebrating the reclaiming of the Second Temple and the miracle of the oil lasting eight days. The most represented Jewish Holiday there is. Unfortunately it’s one of the least significant holidays for us. Occurs around November or December and lasts eight days and nights. Celebrated by lighting candles in the Menorah each night with a prayer and kids usually get gifts each night. Also celebrated with spinning tops called dreidels, fried foods like doughnuts (sufganiyot in Hebrew; usually the jelly filled ones) and potato pancakes called latkes. Greetings: happy Chanukah or chag sameach.

Tu B’Shevat – Birthday of the trees, basically Jewish Arbor Day. Minor but fun holiday, sometimes celebrated by planting trees. Occurs around January or February.

Purim – Celebrates how Queen Esther of Persia defeated Haman and saved her people, the Jews. Occurs in Spring. Festive holiday traditionally celebrated by dressing in costumes, eating sweets, and giving tzedakah (it’s also technically commanded you get drunk so woohoo!) Whenever Haman’s name is mentioned you make a lot of noise, booing and using noisemakers called groggers. Greetings: happy Purim, chag Purim, or chag sameach.

Passover/Pesach – Celebrates the Jews being freed from slavery in Egypt. Occurs in Spring and lasts eight days. The first two nights (some only celebrate the first night) are celebrated with seder, a ritual meal with certain foods, practices, prayers, and readings from a book called the Haggadah and often attended by family and friends. Most famous prayer/song of the holiday is the four questions, which ask why that night is different from all other nights and is traditionally sung by the youngest child at the seder. The entire holiday is spent not eating certain foods, mostly grain or flour (the food restrictions are complicated and differ based on denomination so look it up or ask a Jew.) We eat a lot of matzah during Pesach, which is like a cracker kinda. I personally hate it but some people actually like it. Greetings: happy Passover, chag pesach, or chag sameach.

Tisha B’Av – Anniversary of the destruction of the Temple. Occurs in Summer. Very sad, solemn day. Some celebrate by fasting from sunrise to sunset. Not the most widely celebrated holiday. Some also commemorate the Holocaust (also called the Shoah) on this day as it was the destruction of a figurative temple.

Denominations

There are a bunch of denominations in Judaism, we’ll go into it briefly.

Religious denominations:

Reform/Reformed: This is the least religiously observant level. Often Reform Jews don’t keep kosher or observe Shabbat, their services on Shabbat will use instruments. Reform Jews probably attend services for the high holidays at the very least and probably had a Bat/Bar Mitzvah. Might say they consider themselves more culturally Jewish. Their Temple/Synagogue will be the most “liberal”—aka have more female/diverse Rabbis and a more diverse congregation. I’m Reform and my Temple’s lead Rabbi is a woman and we used to have a Rabbi who’s a queer single mother.

Conservative: More religiously observant and more generally traditional. Might keep kosher or observe Shabbat, but not necessarily. Services likely won’t use instruments (not supposed to play instruments on Shabbat). Most likely had a Bat/Bar Mitzvah, but girls might not read from the Torah, though this depends on the congregation. They do allow female Rabbis, but in my experience it’s less common.

Modern Orthodox: Very religiously observant but also embrace modern society. Will keep kosher and observe Shabbat. Men will wear kippot (singular=kippah) and tzitzit under their shirts. Women will cover their hair (if they’re married), most likely with a wig, and wear modest clothing (only wear skirts that are at least past their knees and long sleeves). Emphasis on continued study of Torah/Talmud. Parents will likely have jobs. Might have larger families (aka more children) but might not. Services will be segregated by gender, girls won’t read from the Torah publicly, and female Rabbis are very rare. Children will most likely attend a religious school. Will attend shul services every Shabbat and for holidays.

note: there are some people who fall somewhere between modern Orthodox and ultra-Orthodox, or between any two denominations really. as you can imagine people don’t all practice the exact same way.

Ultra-Orthodox: Very religiously observant and not necessarily modern. Will keep kosher and observe Shabbat. Men will wear kippot or other head coverings and tzitzit under their shirts, and are also often seen wearing suits. Women will cover their hair (if they’re married) with a wig or scarf and wear modest clothing (only wear skirts that are at least past their knees and long sleeves). Emphasis on continued study of Torah/Talmud. Men might have jobs but might instead focus on Jewish studies, while women most often focus on housework and child-rearing. Don’t believe in contraception (but this is kinda nuanced and depends). Will often have very large families because having children is a commandment and helps continue the Jewish people. Might be shomer negiah which means not touching members of the opposite sex aside from their spouse and some close family members. Services will be segregated by gender, girls won’t read from the Torah publicly, and there won’t be female Rabbis. Children will attend a religious school. Will attend shul services every Shabbat and for holidays.

Ethnic denominations (the different denominations do have some differences in practices and such but tbh I don’t know much about that so this is just the basics):

Ashkenazi: Jews that originate from Central/Eastern Europe. Yiddish, a combination of Hebrew and German, originated from and was spoken by Ashkenazim and while it’s a dying language it’s spoken among many Orthodox Jews and many Jews of all levels know/speak some Yiddish words and phrases. Majority of Jews worldwide are Ashkenazi.

Sephardi/Sephardic: Jews that originate from the Iberian Peninsula, North Africa, and southeastern Europe. Ladino, a combination of Old Spanish and Hebrew, originated from and was spoken by Sephardim. It is also a dying language but is still spoken by some Sephardim. After Ashkenazi most of the world’s Jews are Sephardic.

Mizrahi: Jews that originate from the Middle East and North Africa.

Ethiopian Jews: Community of Jews that lived in Ethiopia for over 1,000 years, though most have immigrated to Israel by now.

Stereotypes/Tropes/Controversies/Etc.

There are so many Jewish stereotypes and shit and I ask you to please be mindful of them. Stereotypes do exist for a reason, so some people will fit stereotypes. This means your character might fit one or two; don’t make them fit all of them. Please. Stereotypes to keep in mind (and steer away from) include:

All Jews are rich.

All Jews are greedy.

All Jews are cheap/frugal.

All Jews are [insert job here]. We’ll go into this more below.

All Jews hate Christians/Muslims/etc.

All Jews are white. 

First of all Ethiopian and Mizrahi Jews exist, many Sephardi are Hispanic, and today with intermarriage and everything this just isn’t true.

All Jews have the same physical features: large and/or hooked nose, beady eyes, droopy eyelids, red hair (this is an old stereotype I didn’t really know existed), curly hair.

Many Jews do have somewhat large noses and curly hair. I’m not saying you can’t give these features to your characters, but I am saying to be careful and don’t go overboard. And don’t give all of your Jewish characters these features. As a side note, it is common at least among American Jews that girls get nose jobs. Not all, but some.

Jews are secretly world elite/control the world/are lizard people/new world order/ any of this stuff. 

STAY AWAY FROM. DO NOT DO THIS OR ANYTHING LIKE THIS. If you have a character that’s part lizard, do not make them Jewish. If you have a character that’s part of a secret group that controls the entire world, do not make them Jewish.

Jews have horns. If you have characters with horns please don’t make them Jewish.

Jews killed Jesus.

The blood libel. Ew. No.

The blood libel is an antisemitic accusation/idea/concept that back in the day Jews would murder Christian children to use their blood in religious rituals and sometimes even for consumption (did I mention gross?) Not only did this just not happen, but it’s actually against Jewish law to murder, sacrifice, or consume blood. Yes these accusations really happened and it became a main reason for persecution of Jews. And some people still believe this shit.

Jews caused The Plague.

The reason this conspiracy exists is because many Jews didn’t get The Plague and the goyim thought that meant it was because the Jews caused it/cursed them. The real reason Jews didn’t get it is because ritual hand-washing and good hygiene kept them from getting it. Sorry that we bathe.

Jewish mother stereotype.

Ok, listen. I know stereotypes are mostly a bad thing but I have to admit the Jewish mother stereotype is not far off. Jewish moms do tend to be chatty and a little nagging, are often very involved in their children’s lives, and they are often trying to feed everyone (although they don’t all cook, my mom hates cooking.) They also tend to be big worriers, mostly worrying about their family/loved ones. They also tend to know everyone somehow. A twenty minute trip to the grocery store can turn into an hour or two long trip because she’ll chat with all the people she runs into.

Jewish-American Princess (JAP) ((I know calling Japanese people Japs is offensive. Jews will call girls JAPs, but with a completely different meaning. If that’s still offensive I am sorry, but just know it happens.))

This is the stereotype that portrays Jewish girls/women as spoiled brats basically. They will be pampered and materialistic. Do these girls exist? Definitely. I still recommend steering away from this stereotype.

Names

Listen. Listen. There are some names that Jews just won’t have. I won’t speak in definites because there are always exceptions but you’ll rarely find a Jew named Trinity or Grace or Faith or any form of Chris/Christopher/Christina etc. Biblical names from the Old Testament? Absolutely Jews will have those names they’re actually very common.

I’m in a Jewish Sorority. My pledge class of ~70 girls had five Rebeccas and four Sarahs. Surprisingly only one Rachel though.

When it comes to last names I have two thoughts that might seem contradictory but hear me out: a) give your Jewish OC’s Jewish surnames, b) don’t give your Jewish OC’s the most Jewish surname to ever exist.

By this I mean I would much rather see a character named Sarah Cohen or Aaron Levine than Rachel Smith. Just that little bit of recognition makes a happy exclamation point appear over my head, plus it can be a good way to hint to readers that your OC is Jewish.

On the other hand, please don’t use the most stereotypical Jewish names you’ve ever heard. If you have five Jewish OCs and one of them is Isaac Goldstein then fine. If Isaac Goldstein is your only Jewish OC I might get a little peeved. There are tons of common Jewish surnames that are recognizable and easy to look up, so don’t revert to the first three that come to mind. Maybe it’s just me, but I find it yucky, for lack of a better word.

Jobs

We all know there are certain jobs that are stereotypical for Jews to have. We’re talking lawyer, dentist, doctor, banker type stuff. To an extent these stereotypes exist for a reason, many Jews go into those careers. Do not make these the only careers your Jewish OCs have. Stereotypes might have reasoning behind them but it doesn’t mean they aren’t harmful. If you have multiple Jewish OCs some of them can have these careers, but not all of them. I do know a lot of Jewish lawyers, dentists, and doctors. I also know accountants, people involved in businesses (“mom, what does Brad do?” “he’s a businessman” sometimes there just aren’t more specific words), people involved in real estate. I don’t actually know any bankers personally, and with money and stuff being one of the most common and harmful Jewish stereotypes I would suggest steering away from that.

These are common fields for Jews, but Jews can have literally any job. Please feel free to get creative. And if you have more than one Jewish OC you can think about making one of them a Rabbi, but DON’T do this if they’re the only Jewish OC. Please.

Yiddish

So I mentioned Yiddish earlier. Like I already said, it’s not a very widely used language anymore but there are some words and phrases that are still used by a lot of Jews (in America at least.) Here’s a list that is absolutely not comprehensive:

Oy vey = oh no

Shvitzing = sweating (but not just a little bit. Shvitzing is like SWEATING)

Kvetch/kvetching = whine/whining or complain/complaining

Mazel tov = congratulations; this is the same in Yiddish and Hebrew

Chutzpah = nerve or gall (e.g. “He’s got a lot of chutzpah for breaking up over text like that”)

Kismet = fate; I just learned this is Yiddish

Bubbe and Zayde = grandma and grandpa

Schelp/schlepping = drag/dragging, can also mean carry or move (e.g. “I had to schlep the bag all around town” doesn’t mean they literally dragged it)

Schmutz = dirt or something dirty (e.g. “you have schmutz on your face”)

Schmatta = literally means rag but can be used to refer to ratty blankets or clothes

Plotz = collapse (usually used in the sense of “I’m so tired I might plotz” or “she’s gonna be so excited she’s gonna plotz”)

Schmuck/shmendrick = both mean more or less the same, a jerk or obnoxious person

Shtick = gimmick, routine, or act (can be used like (“I don’t like that comedian’s shtick” or “he always makes himself the center of attention it’s his shtick”)

Spiel = long speech, story, or rant

There’s so many more so look them up and think about using them, but don’t overdo it. A Jewish person isn’t gonna use a Yiddish word in every sentence (or even every day or every few days.)

Israel

In my community at least it’s very common that by the time your college-aged that you’ll have been to Israel at least once.

Israel is a controversial topic within the Jewish community and in the world. It’s sensitive and complex. I really, really suggest not getting into it. Just don’t bring it up because no matter what you say someone will be unhappy. Just don’t do it.

Ashkenazi Disorders

Ashkenazi Jews have some sucky genes (I’m Ashkenazi so I can say this, you cannot.) These sucky genes cause certain disorders to be more prevalent for us. Children only get the disorder if both parents are carriers of the disorder, so Jews usually get genetic testing done before having children. If both parents are carriers the risk of the child getting the disorder is high, so parents might reconsider or have some indecisiveness/fear. Some of these are:

Tay-Sachs

Cystic Fibrosis

Canavan Disease

Familial Dysautonomia

Gaucher Disease

Spinal Muscular Atrophy  

Fanconi Anemia

Mucolipidosis IV

Niemann-Pick Disease

Torsion Dystonia

Bloom Syndrome

Ashkenazi Jews also have a high prevalence of the BRCA1 and BRCA2 genes, which increase the risk of breast and ovarian cancer in women and increase the risk of breast and prostate cancer in men.

Crohn’s Disease, Ulcerative Colitis, Irritable Bowel Syndrome, and Lactose Intolerance are also very prevalent

In a dorm of like 40 Jews, six of them had Crohn’s.

Ways to Show Your OC is Jewish

Wears Jewish jewelry, e.g. Star of David (also called Jewish Star and Magen David), Chai symbol (means life), jewelry with Sh’ma prayer, or hamsa (but beware this symbol is used outside of Judaism).

Mentions their temple, their Rabbi, having a Bat/Bar Mitzvah, going to Hebrew School, Shabbat, or a holiday coming up.

Have someone ask them a question about Judaism.

Have someone notice they have a mezuzah on their door. 

Most Jews will have a mezuzah on the doorframe of the front door of their house/apartment, but they could even have one for their dorm room or whatever. It’s traditional to kiss your hand then touch the mezuzah when walking through the door, but most Jews don’t do this every time, at least not most Reform or Conservative Jews.

Have them call out antisemitism if you’re feeling spicy

The end! I hope this helped and if you have any questions my ask box is always open!

[writingwithcolor]

Gingerbread man as golem

@yaronata asked:

I would like to write a character who is Jewish and uses a Golem. She's based on the D&D class of the artificer which looks magic but isn't, because they produce all their effects with inventions, like the "any sufficiently advanced technology is indistinguishable from magic" quote. Her story is that her very Jewish town was under attack from a terrible monster when she was little. Her Rabbis made a Golem to protect the town, and it succeeded but was torn to pieces in the process. She was fascinated by the Golem and as a kid didn't see a big difference between it's sentience and person's so was really thankful for its sacrifice like you would a person's sacrificing their life for you. They thought all the pieces had been devoured by the monster before it died, but she went looking and found the piece used to animate the Golem, which she, kinda misunderstanding called its "heart". She kept the piece and grew up to be an incredibly skilled cook, specialising as a baker in the town. I imagine she would make a lot of really good food for the Jewish holidays, or to break fasts on ones like Yom Kippur or Tish'abav. But she also made a town specific holiday to honour the Golem's sacrifice and the town still being alive, because I feel "we are not dead woo" is a big theme for Jewish holidays from my research, so it could fit, for which she invented ginger bread men to be the golem, and gave them little "hearts" of fruit or honey, and you're meant to eat them limb by limb like the beast did before eating the heart. This would be the inspiration for using the "heart" piece later to make her own giant gingerbread Golem to help her save the world.

These are my questions 1) would it be considered bad or disrespectful for someone who isn't a Rabbi to make a Golem, or is this method of taking an animating piece someone else made disrespectful? 2) Her journey will take her far from her town and her Jewish family and friends and she will likely travel with gentiles. Would it be disrespectful for a Golem to be used to protect a lot of gentiles and one Jew in the course of saving the world? I don't want to fall into the stereotype of someone putting all their effort into valuing and protecting very specifically the group that in real life is oppressive to them. 3) While she is not using magic and is actually mimicking its effects with technology she invents, is this drawing too close to the line of "magical Jew"? 4) I like to "play test" my characters in ttrpgs to really get a feel for them before I write. Would it be disrespectful to play a Jewish character when I am a gentile, and would it be disrespectful to play a Jewish character in a setting where there are demonstrably real gods other than the one of Judaism?

I really like this character idea and I think it's cute and fun and rooted in Jewish culture but I really want to make sure it's respectful and as good as I, a gentile researching on the internet, thinks it is. Thanks so much! Have a nice day!

My answer to this is very complicated because there are things I both like and do not like about this premise. First of all, I love the idea of a cookie golem, and I'm even imagining the magic word that brings him to life (EMET/truth) would be written in icing. And I'm okay with the part about how she found a piece of the old golem and used it to build a new golem, because that makes sense for a golem made from a baked good when you think about how people use sourdough starter to make a new batch of sourdough.

However, here are the thing that make me cock my head to the side like my little sister's German shepherd:

1. re: "magical Jew" - that's not a trope I've ever heard of. Remember, marginalized groups don't receive identical disrespect across the board. It is indeed a trope to use Black people or disabled people as supernatural plot devices who exist only to further the stories of white main characters or able-bodied main characters. But I can't say as I've ever seen anyone using Jewishness that way. Usually if we are someone's one-dimensional plot device it's as someone's lawyer, fixer, "money guy", etc, not a supernatural force. So this isn't something you have to worry about.

2. I have a certain level of discomfort with you playing as a Jewish character just because playacting as a marginalized culture you're not part of strikes me as off, but I understand that that's how you gain insight into a character you're about to write so it's more of a writing exercise than anything else. (I wonder if D&D regulars from marginalized groups have written about this -- I've only played a few times casually with family so if I did run into this type of discussion in my social justice reading I wouldn't have absorbed it. If anyone is curious I played first as Captain Werewolf, and then switched to playing as Cinnamon Blade because lawful good was too hard. :P )

3. I would prefer you omit the detail about eating the cookies piece by piece symbolically, for two reasons: a. it unintentionally evokes Communion by having appreciative people consume a baked good symbolic of an entity who sacrificed his life for theirs, and b. focusing on the details of flesh consumption reminds me too much of Blood Libel (yes, a gingerbread man is in the shape of a person but how many of us actually think about it literally, the way this act would cause?)

As to your first question: I'm fine with her making a golem even though she's just a rando. Second question: I see what you're saying and maybe it could be more okay if it's really clear how well these gentile folks are treating her? And questions three and four are answered above.

I really do love the idea of a giant gingerbread man golem. Cookie golem T_T <3

--Shira

I would like to second Shira’s point about not ripping apart the gingerbread cookies. I honestly would prefer they were used as decoration, and other cookies eaten instead, since that part just feels so not-Jewish to me, but I don’t have golem-specific issues other than that. It seems like you have already been doing a lot of research, which is appreciated.

As far as the ttrpg/DnD aspect… I bounce back and forth on the topic of playing characters that are so very different from our experiences, other than in fantasy-related ways. However, I am aware that a lot of people will play with, and experiment with gender in game, and learn something about themselves in the process (the number of trans players of ttrpgs who tried out their gender in game before they were out is high). It’s different with Judaism, and even more significantly different when it comes to things you can’t convert into, like various actual, real-world races. But because people do sometimes experience growth from experiences like this, I’m hesitant to dissuade players completely. I do urge you to, at a minimum, bring the same care, research, and willingness to learn, that you brought to this question.

--Dierdra

This sounds like a creative storyline that you could have lots of fun with 😊

At first I was confused by this part:

She also made a town specific holiday to honour the Golem's sacrifice

But then you really got me thinking about different types of Jewish holidays and how they come about, so thank you for that!

Because it’s often the little details that either make a story super powerful or kind of nonsensical, I think it would be a good idea to decide what type of holiday is being created here:

A full-blown chag with restrictions on labour and halachic obligations? These are commanded in Torah and new ones can’t be added.

A minor yom tov with halachic obligations but no restrictions? These were instituted by the rabbis prior to the destruction of the Temple, so again new ones can’t be added.

A public holiday or equivalent? This would usually be declared by the Knesset in Israel, and filter to the rest of the Jewish world from there.

A community-based yom tov with specific customs only for people in the know, such as certain Chasidic groups celebrating the birthdays of their deceased leaders? I asked around, but no one can really tell me how these holidays get started, which is probably a good indication that they arise quite organically from a group of people who all just feel that it should be celebrated. Probably not created by a single person, as such.

Something she runs from her bakery, not religion-based, but more like a day of doing special products and deals the way many small businesses do on their anniversary?

Now, if the people of a modern-day town were actually saved by a real live Golem, that would arguably be the most overt miracle for many generations, so there would be a decent chance of options 3 and/or 4 happening. It’s entirely plausible that there could be special foods for this day that become a tradition, including Golem cookies. People who directly benefited might also return to the site where the Golem fought the monster and recite the prayer, ‘Blessed is Hashem, Master of the Universe, Who performed a miracle for me in this place.’

Alternatively, if it’s important that your MC created the holiday, something like option 5 might be the best. Hopefully this will still fulfil what you need: you describe her as incredibly skilled, so I can imagine the day when she goes all out on the Golem cookies being one of the most exciting events of the year for the townspeople, just because her baking is that good. Plus, they already have a personal stake in the Golem’s sacrifice, so I definitely think it could be a thing without being an official holiday. Also, if she is outside of an all-Jewish environment, don’t forget that she would have to decide whether to commemorate the anniversary in the Hebrew calendar or the local one.

Coming back to the cookies, sorry if we’re getting a little repetitive on this point! But I don’t see the cookies being torn limb from limb as part of a celebration. First of all, this doesn’t sound like a very celebratory thing to do, to say the least. Can you imagine explaining that to a three-year-old on their first Yom HaGolem? They would be terrified! (I don’t read this suggestion as accidental anti-Semitism so much as getting carried away with a metaphor, which I’m sure as writers we have all done!)

But also, it’s worth pointing out that our commemorative foods aren’t usually that literal. If you think about hamantaschen, maror, or apple in honey, they’re all symbols. That’s not to say that having Golem-shaped cookies is a problem, as this sounds like just a bit of fun that the MC is having and not something that is directly at odds with Judaism or Jewish culture. But it’s worth bearing in mind that the more literal you go from there in terms of tying the cookies to the event they commemorate, the less culturally aligned your holiday food becomes.

Finally, about the Golem protecting non-Jewish people: I like this idea! There’s a stereotype that we only use whatever is at our disposal to help ourselves and other Jewish people, so a Golem being created by Jews but helping others as well is a big plus for me. Of course, as has already been pointed out, this would be an odd choice if her Saving The World team were anti-Semitic or otherwise disrespectful to her/her community, but I don’t think you were headed that way!

-Shoshi

I have to come back in here just to squee over the phrase “Yom HaGolem.” Well done :D

--Shira

[inkyblinders]

Dancing with the Devil: Part II

Part 1

Pairing: Luca Changretta x Reader

Author’s note: This was so embarrassing to write not because of smut...but because I’m crushing hard on Adrien Brody right now. And I can’t even share this obsession with anyone because… he’s kinda niche? Someone please reassure me that I’m just going through a phase because dear God why can’t I stop watching Darjeeling Limited just to see him ahhh.

The story picks up right after the end of Part 1, so I recommend reading that first. Comments, likes, and reblogs are always appreciated, let me know what you think!

Summary: Following your meeting with Luca Changretta, you face the Shelby family and Tommy's reaction. (2.6k words)

Warnings: Smut, angst, swearing

Tag: Let me know if you would like to be added or removed

@anythingwriter, @rrtxcmt, @shut-chan

_____________________________________________________________

You barely make it into your bedroom before he is all over you. The buttons of his crisp, tailored shirt fall like marbles. He moans when you nip the skin of his neck, right over his tattoo of the black cross, legs tangled together like a depraved waltz.

When he grinds into you, you shudder deliciously at the hardness that meets between your bare thighs.

How easy would it be for him to kill you after he fucks you, leaving your corpse twisted in the bedsheets. You know Tommy would find it when he eventually remembers that he has not seen you for days.

“Signorita, you know I come to you with the most honorable of intentions.” He murmurs, as if sensing your thoughts.

“You're not a very honorable man then.” A laugh that turns into a gasp as he trails his hand lower and strokes between your legs. No, not very honorable at all. And pretty soon all thoughts of honor are forgotten as he coaxes a moan from your throat.

His fingers are magic. The cold outline of his onyx rings scald your skin each time he crooks a finger inside you. Knowing exactly what you need, seeking your depths, swirling, rising to rub the clit, all the while exploring the flushed expanse of your body with his other hand.

Shoulder to breasts to hips and back again.

Without meaning to, you’ve let this stranger take control of your entire being. But God, do you crave this pure ecstasy.

It’s as if he wants to know precisely how much you can take before you're undone. So when you clench around his hand and feel the familiar ache he is right there, helping you ride the wave of pleasure, never breaking the rhythm of his thrusting fingers even as you curse, rake your nails down his back.

You almost cry out his name when you come. But you bite into his shoulder instead.

“Sweetheart, I’m gonna have to hear you next time.” He growls.

His words barely register as you come down from the high. Aftershocks spark like tiny flames. Now you are wearing his scent as much as he is wearing yours.

“Be inside me,” You whimper, tugging at his soft hair, urging him for more.

He rasps an empty warning, “What's my name, sweetheart?”

Of course. All this time you've never acknowledged you know of his identity. There was no use in trying to hide it now.

“Luca,” you breathe. And his eyes gleam with approval.

With a snap of his hips, he plunges into silky warmth. The fullness stretches you to your limit, head thrown back. It’s good, so good. Every withdrawal of his thrust is a blessing because you know what follows next. It’s him inside you again, wrapping you with his touch and the scent of tobacco and roses.

“Does your Tommy fuck you like this? Like the way I do?”

“He’s not mine.” You choke out, punishing Luca with a bite on the neck that elicits a chuckle rather than a yelp of pain.

He kisses you, your foreheads pressed together. “A damn shame for him.” Soon he starts to quicken his pace, going faster, more erratic, his breathing heavy upon your ears.

Yes, you urge him, come on, now.

And this is your chance. In a flash you roll on top of him, pinning down his shoulders with your hands. He tries to arch up but you stop him with a knee.

“How many men did you bring, Changretta?” You ask, making your voice rough to mask the lust, pressing your hands around his jugular.

It's a pleasure to see him like this. Shocked at your actions, maybe even scared. Naked with want but unable to do anything to relieve it. Unless he tells the truth.

“Fifteen. Why baby, am I not enough for you?” He laughs breathlessly, hands trailing goosebumps along your hips, tracing the contour of your breasts. The jib doesn't hurt you. After all, men have said worse. He tries to surge into you again, and his hot member pulses on your thighs.

“Do you swear on your honor? That you’re telling the truth?” You insist, squeezing him harder. The touch brands his skin as much as it brands yours.

In a voice full of self-mockery he says, “Yes I swear on my honor. Now let me in, clever Isabel.”

You take him in you, the sensations amplify a thousandfold. You try teasing him, going slowly in and out, but soon you are caught up in the sensation of him completely at your mercy and you ride him, faster, until you keen his name, until he too is undone.

****

Through the haze of dawn, he stumbles out of bed and gets dressed. Before he dons his hat once more, Luca leans down to whisper in your ear, as soft as sin.

“You tell Tommy Shelby he may expect a visitor in the night. I'm coming for him as the angel of death. The vendetta has begun…” He kisses your hair.

“I’ll see you soon, sweetheart.”

The door clicks shut. You rise from your pillow, and a small, hard lump rolls next to your hand.

It is a signet ring of onyx and gold.

****

“So we all get a death letter from the mafia, but Izzy gets jewelry?” Ada huffs as the family filters into the betting shop. As usual, Tommy holds court at the front of the table, brooding over a glass of whiskey. You roll your eyes as Arthur and John try to cover their snort of laughter with a cough.

“If you want it, you can have it, Ada. He’s probably planning on killing me too.”

“Doubt it. You’re not a Shelby, and we’re the ones who killed his father. Well, someone did, to be precise.” She shoots a bitter look at Tommy, who doesn’t even have the decency to look ashamed.

Despite Ada’s matter-of-fact tone, the words cut to your heart. Not a Shelby.

It’s not her fault. No one knows you’ve been sleeping with Tommy, not even your dearest friend. It’s a lonely secret to keep, but at least you can look at the family square in the eye and not have to worry about the things they say behind your back. Or worse, pity you.

You can handle the violence and moral ambiguity of Tommy’s business. But to lose the love and respect of the Shelbys would break your heart.

“What was the mafia man like, Izzy?” Finn asks eagerly. It’s obvious the boy is thinking of the dashing, gun-wielding gangsters he’s seen in the pictures.

“He was a wrinkly old brute. Kind of like your arsehole brother Tommy.” A smile to take the edge off the insult. But Tommy only looks off into space. As if he hasn't paid attention to this entire conversation.

Arthur clears his throat. “Now, let’s get one thing straight. It was me who pulled the trigger on his dad, so the blame falls on me.” He pats Linda’s hand even as his voice is heavy with guilt.

“No one’s blaming you Arthur, you weren’t the brains behind the operation, no offense.” Ada says. He is about to say something when Polly cuts in.

“Stop squabbling like children. We’ve all voted for truce, despite everything Tommy’s done to us—” The words nearly having us hanged hover pointedly in the air. “—So let’s focus on the matter at hand." She fixes Tommy with a sharp look.

“What’s the news from Camden Town? Will Solomons help us?”

“No.” He says tiredly. And all of a sudden you feel sorry for teasing him. He look gaunt. There are shadows under his eyes, even more so than usual. Without you to remind him to eat, you can imagine his diet for the past few days consisted more of alcohol and cigarettes than anything substantial.

“Spent three hours on a fucking tour of his bakery and another pretending to drink his piss-poor rum. I think he was trying to get me sloshed so I’d forget what I came for.” Tommy rubs his head.

“He’s refusing to send his men to help. Said he’s not going to go after another oppressed people.”

“Did you tell him the Italians are rounding up Jews in their country as we speak?” Polly asks incredulously.

“Wouldn’t make a difference to Alfie. Besides, that’s just an excuse. He’s really just a fucking coward.”

Polly looks troubled at this, as does the rest of the family. Everyone had been counting on Alfie’s friendship with Tommy, however peculiar, to help them with the vendetta. What they hadn’t expected was his extreme sense of self-perseverance. How are they going to protect themselves now?

“Before everyone panics, I’d like to say something.” Tommy clears his throat, setting down the whisky.

“As you may all know, two nights ago our Izzy encountered Mr. Changretta in the Garrison. He bought her a drink and asked her to deliver an official beginning of the vendetta.” He chooses this time to finally look at you. You hold his gaze until he looks shiftily away.

“We can also assume that he has been scoping out Small Heath, looking for any weaknesses on our turf. Now, Izzy has something to share with you all.”

You stand up uncertainly. The last time a woman other than Polly tried to speak her mind at the table it had been Esme, who still refuses to come to the betting shop unless Tommy is not here.

“While Mr. Changretta was, er, indisposed at the Garrison, I found some items in his coat that I think could be useful.” You fish out a passport and a stack of papers from your skirt pockets.

“Good job, Izzy! Oh, I knew we could count on you more than my idiot brother.” Ada beams.

“Becoming a right little spy, eh?” John ruffles your hair good-naturedly. As everyone gathers around, Polly gives a low whistle.

“Goodness, if this is your definition of an ugly brute, I wonder who’ll really catch your fancy, darling.”

You flush. The documents were obtained shortly after Luca had fallen asleep. It was an exercise in agility, trying to extricate yourself from his tangle of limbs, especially when you wanted nothing more than to stay in bed, encased in his warmth.

To your own credit, the papers were highly useful indeed. Some were maps of Birmingham, circles drawn in places where the Shelbys are known to frequent. The Garrison. Charlie’s Yard. The Arrow House. There was also stationary from The Stanton, a hotel just outside of the city.

There had been another piece of paper in the stack, a letter. But you kept that for yourself.

“We all have Izzy to thank for bringing us this valuable information.” Tommy’s voice rises above the chatter. “I will be personally examining all the documents and think of a plan. In the meantime, everyone stay alert, stay armed, and stay together.”

“Now if no one has any further questions, I need to have a private word with her. Alone.”

*****

You twirl the onyx ring around your finger as everyone filters out. It’s much too big but you still wear it anyways. The thick band of gold is comforting in its own way. And despite what you told Ada earlier, you don’t want to give it to anyone else.

Tommy’s curt voice snaps you from your reverie.

“Was it good, then?”

A small muscle tics on the underside of his jaw. His previously blank expression is now cold. The coward in you compels you to feign ignorance.

“What do you mean, Tommy?” You ask lightly.

“Did it feel good to have that fucking wop inside you?”

You burst out laughing. “Christ, Tommy. Did you pick up that word from Alfie? You sound bloody ridiculous when you’re trying to be crass, you know.”

“Don’t fucking change the subject, Isabel.” Tommy snaps.

“Oh, so I’m Isabel, now? You only call me that when you’re trying to get me in bed. Is that what you want? A bit early in the evening if you ask me.”

“What I want for you is to tell me how it felt having that man inside you, inside---”

You blaze with anger. “My sex life is none of your business, even if you are an occasional participant. I did what you would have wanted, and now I’ve got intel on the Changrettas that could save your arse!”

“Do you know how dangerous it could have been? Fraternizing with the enemy is exactly what got us into trouble with the Changrettas!”

“And fraternizing with them again has given us an advantage. We know how many associates he’s brought with him, and where they are staying. Good God,” Your eyes widen as you see the mutinous look on Tommy’s face. “Are you jealous?”

The silence of the room presses in until it's almost palpable. Finally he rubs a hand over his eyes, looking utterly defeated.

“I have no right to.” He says, pained. “But I am, just the same.”

The admission of his feelings would have made your heart soar a few days ago, before you met a man who enchanted you in the Garrison. You only laugh bitterly.

“What makes this different from all those other times you made me seduce the men you wanted to spy on?”

He says nothing. But what else is there to say? The past is in the past, and so many hurts have been caused by the both of you, it would be impossible to untangle it all.

You soften your voice, laying a hand on Tommy's arm.

“Let me continue seeing him. He wants me, and we can use that. You know it will be help, you know it might save us all.”

A breath flutters in your chest as you wait for his decision. If Tommy allows it, you’ll do it in a heartbeat. The Shelbys are your family, whether you're one in name or not.

But if he refuses, then perhaps… Perhaps he might actually care for you, deeper than jealousy, deeper than he admits.

“Very well.” Tommy says finally, and something in your heart shatters. The corners of your mouth curve up in a wobbly smile.

“Thank you for trusting me, Tommy. I won’t let you down.”

“You would never let me down, no matter what you do. Just…Be careful, Izzy.”

He closes the distance between you and enfolds you in a hug. You enjoy this quiet warmth, as fragile as spider's silk. With a small laugh, you pull away, patting his arm before turning to the door.

You don't look back to see if he follows.