When
Moses had proclaimed every commandment of the law to all the people, he
took the blood of calves, together with water, scarlet wool and
branches of hyssop, and sprinkled the scroll and all the people. He
said, "This is the blood of the covenant, which God has commanded you to
keep." In the same way, he sprinkled with the blood both the tabernacle
and everything used in its ceremonies. In fact, the law requires that
nearly everything be cleansed with blood ...
//When we were kids, we formed clubs and built forts and tree houses. We
hung up signs that said, "No girls allowed." We made up secret
handshakes and lots of rules. We scavenged for used cigarette butts and
snuck them into the fort, where we smoked what was left of them with
reverence, sitting around a tin cup of exhausted filters.
When
we grew up, we took down the "No girls allowed" sign. Turns out they're
human, too. We swapped the secret handshakes for embraces, and the
rituals lost meaning.
I'm
not Jewish, but I wonder ... do Jews sometimes look back on their
history with the same sort of embarrassed nostalgia? All that playing
with animal blood, all the dress-up games, all those rules, meant only
to draw lines in the desert sand delineating the Hebrew Club?
Sometimes when I read the book of Hebrews, I get the feeling that's how its author felt.
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