Home > philosophy > The Cry of Lemo-Ulan Batur

The Cry of Lemo-Ulan Batur

Every race and every age gives God its own mask. But behind all masks...is always the same never-changing God - Nikos Kazantzakis

Every race and every age gives God its own mask. But behind all masks...is always the same never-changing God - Nikos Kazantzakis

Holding the staff in his hand, he sat on the ground and palmed the sand, feeling its smoothness wringing gently on his hand down to his wrist. The grains were like living creatures that struggled to escape the frame of human bars the way water spontaneously evades the bedrocks that block its way; that is because everything in this world is free yet moves accordingly to universal norms. The sand will always have its way in the ground as the smoke always tends to ascend in the sky. And in this blackness of the night, no matter how apparent the contrast among things, the intensity of darkness engulfed all colors and the only thing that illuminated the world was the terrestrial flicker way above its sphere. He knelt on the sand and ardently prayed that life for humanity would progress in perfection in the multitude of human civilizations. Feeling the pricks of the sand and the sweetness of the night he knew that in the desert would man find the greatest harmony in the world. It is the only place where heaven copulates with earth like intimate lovers that constantly desire each others beauty. This desert with its enormous space provided is an ineffable source of heavenly wisdom that transforms the self into a prophet of peace. Yet, even when he tried to convince himself of the peaceful atmosphere, his mind asserted that what he had witnessed signified that violence originated in this very sand. How ironical that the world ‘s greatest moralist was reared and nourished in this place yet unable to make any changes to abate human conflict.  It had even gone worse in consequent years. Yes! He knew that it all started with the Word; and things were all beautiful that God called it his greatest masterpiece. But the Word became  a sword; and the only difference between them is the letter “s”. Its “S” for Satan or for serpent which creeps on the sand tempting Christ to denounce his obedience and sneaking its way to human weaknesses and atrocities. What happened to the world was nothing but mere transgression of human desires that consequently distorted man. And this grotesque serpent seemed to enjoy his legacy- the wars and the dying of million lives. The sword as opposed to the Word  blinded man of its own place; and that even God’s writ has been interpreted in various ways which proved onerous to the hope of unity.

In this vast desert, its not human cry that can be heard but also the lamentation of the land which has been soaked not with water but with human blood that either torments its spirit or curtail its hope; and how sad that it began with the idea of God whose name resulted to horrific wars in the world tinted by what we deemed religion.  This is totally reciprocal to what the Red Crescent speaks, or the blood-laden Cross preaches, or the Magein David symbolizes. This is a fiasco of human follies and hidebounds in comprehending the universal essence of peace.  With this terrible angst that overwhelmed him, he turned his gaze up to the sky and searched for immanent constellations that have been witness to the rise and fall of religion and the devil behind it.  He beat his breast and shouted his song: “Lord, when will this world see your face that lurks behind the cross or the crescent or the mark of David; when will your people know that unity can only be achieved in embracing the differences in this world.” He then stood up to his feet removed his black robe and shouted, “I am a priest in Muslim faith, and I am Muslim with a Christian God, and I am a Jew living in both ways. Will this meager soul quench its thirst when I embrace You, Oh God, unbounded by human constructs and ephemeral symbols? Tell me Lord, when will your kingdom come? Or shall we fight the serpent on our own? Help us God for the sand has now turned red.”

***

P.S. Sr. Rose, you take care always in Israel.

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Categories: philosophy Tags: ,
  1. March 19, 2009 at 12:10 am

    Interesting blog, I’ll try and spread the word.

  2. March 20, 2009 at 5:03 am

    thank you wonker!;)

  3. March 21, 2009 at 1:02 pm

    Is that an Amorsolo on your header?!
    It’s very lovely and pertinent to your subtitle. You should keep this one. =)

    As for this entry, you know my thoughts towards it. Keep on writing!

    • totomel
      April 2, 2009 at 7:21 am

      hello little girl, i changed my header. i think this is better to look at than amorsolo’s though i agree that his painting was indeed pertinent to my blog as a header.hehehe.

      anyway the content is what matters most.

  4. poetreearborist
    March 21, 2009 at 4:39 pm

    your blog is really good. i have spent quite a bit of time on it last night and this morning. thanks for stopping by mine as well 🙂

    really professional visuals and compelling content. i’ve added you to my blogroll to help other people find you.

  5. March 22, 2009 at 1:12 am

    thank you Ms. Poet. i hope you wouldnt mind calling you in that name. 🙂

  6. totomel
    March 22, 2009 at 3:23 am

    yup! that’s amorsolo.hehehe. well, i hope we could also discuss my own views on that.hehehe

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