He is standing at Pisgah. He is standing at Pisgah, and he can taste its honey in the air, but he cannot touch it, and he dare not drink too long. Its flavor is tinged with resentment, and it burns as it runs down his throat. He is staring at the Land and he is crying for release. He is reaching towards the forbidden, but he cannot see his sin. One sip has left him craving more, and he knows it is wrong, but he is still begging. Truth does not come with understanding. And he does not want to understand God's plan.
A formless hand engulfs him. He will know suffering no more.
And when the Temple falls, he will not bear witness.
This is a different humanity now. We have watched walls crumble and mountains shatter and bombs burst in an angry sky. We have watched natural disasters and human disasters, and have prayed to God for answers. Behold the generations who have lived with His silence!
I am a different human. I have known not the comfort of feeling God tremble. I have not known his smile or frown.
I still believe. I still hope. But I do not ask to understand.
