הבשר והגוּף
habasar vehaguf
It is one supposes, on some days, at some times, possible,
theologically speaking, to imagine a god who has
no body. God of Ideals. God of Spirit. God of Thought. God of
No Thing therefore God of Nothing. God, what a tragedy
that a human, all flesh and bone in her world of wood and
stone, water and earth, could be so disembodied herself
that she conceives a god without a body, without its hungers
and without its creaks, without its folds and its foldings,
without taste buds, without a pulse to quicken to pound
in the throat when the scent of the one she needs rules
over all sense. To love an idea can be quite quite
satisfying but only the body, beloved,
is holy, holy, holy.
theologically speaking, to imagine a god who has
no body. God of Ideals. God of Spirit. God of Thought. God of
No Thing therefore God of Nothing. God, what a tragedy
that a human, all flesh and bone in her world of wood and
stone, water and earth, could be so disembodied herself
that she conceives a god without a body, without its hungers
and without its creaks, without its folds and its foldings,
without taste buds, without a pulse to quicken to pound
in the throat when the scent of the one she needs rules
over all sense. To love an idea can be quite quite
satisfying but only the body, beloved,
is holy, holy, holy.
First published in Lilith, Spring 2023
