LET US STOP AND WEEP over the remembrance of my beloved. Here was her abode...

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The fugue of yearning of the father enlightens the dark night of Bethlehem for the third time in 2023. Calling for the birth of a new world in the footsteps of his son.

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It is a well known voice in Bethlehem, the voice of Rahel dying herself giving birth to her last son (Genesis 35: 16-19). And : A voice was heard in Ramah, lamentation, and bitter weeping; Rahel weeping for her children refused to be comforted for her children, because they were not. (Jeremiah 31: 15, Matthew 2: 18)

 

Today the fugue of death sounds from Gaza in the most cruel roar. In Benjamin´s answer to Ismael we face the fulfillment of Jacob´s prophetic words: Benjamin shall ravin as a wolf: in the morning he shall devour the prey, and in the evening he shall divide the spoil. (Genesis 49: 27) And of Ismael it is said: And he will be a wild man; his hand will be against every man, and every man's hand against him; and he shall dwell in the presence of all his brethren. (Genesis 16: 12)

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Or with the words of Thomas Hobbes: Man is man´s wolf. When at last will there be evening and man will be man´s brother?

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A fugue, both a poem and a prayer by Dietrich Bonhoeffer in the face of his death, written in Gestapo prison in 1945:

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Who Am I?

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Who am I? They often tell me,
I come out of my cell
Calmly, cheerfully, resolutely,
Like a lord from his palace.
Who am I? They often tell me,
I used to speak to my warders
Freely and friendly and clearly,
As though it were mine to command.
Who am I? They also tell me,
I carried the days of misfortune
Equably, smilingly, proudly,
like one who is used to winning.
Am I really then what others say of me?
Or am I only what I know of myself?
Restless, melancholic, and ill, like a caged bird,
Struggling for breath, as if hands clasped my throat,
Hungry for colors, for flowers, for the songs of birds,
Thirsty for friendly words and human kindness,
Shaking with anger at fate and at the smallest sickness,

Trembling for friends at an infinite distance,
Tired and empty at praying, at thinking, at doing,
Drained and ready to say goodbye to it all.
Who am I? This or the other?
Am I one person today and another tomorrow?
Am I both at once? In front of others, a hypocrite,
And to myself a contemptible, fretting weakling?
Or is something still in me like a battered army,
running in disorder from a victory already achieved?
Who am I? These lonely questions mock me.
Whoever I am, You know me, I am yours, O God.

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And our answer in facing and understanding the signs of our times, there seems no evening before us:

 

O Lord, come soon, for it is toward evening, and the day is far spent. (Luke 24: 29)

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Who are you?

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Let all the world see who you are, what the real meaning of Bethlehem is:

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The great shepherd of mankind and akid from heaven who will gather his complete herd of brothers and sister for the father! And the birth of a new world when heaven and earth are made new and united!  

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