The Crossroad of Divinity

You have come to the crossroad of divinity with your hands full of rotting gold. Take hold of Me, Christ says to you. But you cannot put down your things. You look from them to Him - from the tarnished green of metal that is already fading to the hidden glory of invisible things. You cannot come to Christ and hold on, but with empty hands, we will take hold of the Kingdom. (Luke 12:22)

Someday, when we are back in Jerusalem (the only city to exist in this world and the next), we will laugh about the things we gave importance. I crowned my guilt. You embraced mediocrity. And we did all these things with a glimpse of some piercing eternity in the background - you and I, at least, knew that there was more and we settled for less. This is a cosmic crime they could hold against us, the moon and the stars. But I look up into the face of my Judge - He is my Father. And the blood of Christ runs over even the crime of loving less. 

It must be harder than ever to put down the pile of earthly goods in your hands. 

Back then, we ran through the streets with nothing but our names. It was good to be young and unburdened. It was good to be country-less, and strange in the land. Had we ever felt so true to ourselves as that? Had we ever felt so close to the reality of our own lives? Finally - we saw what it meant to be little pilgrims in a place we did not belong, yet we sensed the greater light behind the curtain right in front of us. Another Country where they knew our names.

They cannot say, the heavens and the earth, that we did not know.

I only wonder if we have let the light of it fade out of our lives. I was luckier than you - I went to a place where they constantly reminded me of the truth, even if I did not want to hear it. I was always as unsettled as I had been then. I was always running with one hand towards the Veil.

Sometimes I dream that we are back in Jerusalem, and we still know the streets even though they have been swept clean. I get the sense that we will never have to leave, and I breathe a sigh of relief.