Guest Post (with a not altogether silent host)
Dear "still not in the no"
I have hesitated to respond to your inquisitive comments for I am fearful of incurring the displeasure of my Divrei Chaim brethren, and hope I shall not be banished from the DC magic circle for disclosing the clandestine mysticism oft-practiced in our cult.
As you must have heard, we entrusted our entire life including our womenfolk and children to our Rebbe. Some even accorded to him the ancient right of droit du seigneur but it is said that our Rebbe, renown for his asceticism and self-abnegation, would exhort that the bride merely have him in mind during the Great Act rather than participate in it in person.
We would pose to him all queries concerning our businesses and families for we knew Him to be the source of all knowledge. We would include even such esoteric topics as psychotherapy, tax avoidance and gynaecology and never would he fail us.
Our Rebbe is a practitioner too of the ancient art of Feng Shui, and when he requested that we renovate the premises and his place of lodging to enhance the channelling of His life-force and the potency of his energy we questioned him not. We obeyed him blindly, for we could not understand the recondite subjects in which he dabbled. But what would take place around the period of the autumnal equinox is something of a different order altogether.
On Simchas Torah, our guru, our leader, of whom we are not fit to kiss the the hem of his shiny robe, would shut his holy eyes and reach out with his mighty hand, the one containing the DNA of the Holy Amshinov Seer, into a crate of apples and erratically hurl them to all corners of our DC sanctum. What was the purpose of this seemingly demented act?
Aah, I cannot reveal all and there is much you will not understand, but I shall allow you this. Our Rebbe would transcend the trappings of our physical form and seize hold of the elusive spiritual sparks that flit across the Universe's stratosphere, left over since the Great Day of Creation. He would force them into apples, retrieved from the Garden of the Hesperides itself, and then bestow these hallowed fruit upon the laps of our initiated fellowship.
In due course, the recipients would encounter untold blessings and richness as our great Soothsayer had averred in the practice known as ‘vintshn’ in our internal vernacular. Verily, he would promise miraculous recoveries to those suffering ailments of mind and body, sustenance to the impoverished and even offspring to the infertile who were privileged to belong to our brotherhood. Salvation to these last mentioned would require further isolation with the Great Man who would wrestle out all impurity from the afflicted and transpose it to mere swaddling cloths. “Swaddle me so you may swaddle your own,” he would make them chant endlessly. It was only a most unfortunate set of circumstances and the intervention of Satan himself that could thwart the Great Man's designs.
Of course, as is the way of the Occult, such acts require immense preparation and a mastery of the Unseen. Our Rebbe would convene for months beforehand with his order of priestesses at the witching hour of the night. What rites they performed at this propitious time, we know not, but we would observe the women depart his chamber displaying a dreamy and satisfied look. Then our Rabbi would immerse himself in the Holy Well that we had installed within the boundaries of our Temple. Finally, we would assemble in the tenebrous Great Hall, illuminated by flickering havdalah candles and with elaborate pentagrams drawn upon the floor, and He would perform the sacred rite of the Yud-Kay-Vov-Kay dance, summoning all the Forces of Good to accompany him on his forthcoming Mission.
I apologise if I have confounded your incredulous senses, and have failed to accurately recount the esoterica that I observed. I was a lay member and can only describe what I perceived with my unschooled eyes. The ordained priests such as Grand Master Matok may be able to offer a much more intimate and authentic account of what transpired.
I must stop writing for my inkwell has almost run dry and I can hear the Dark Riders circling outside, and Porky tinkering with the wheels of my wagon.
Brother Nathaniel - 8th of Sh'vat, 5773