Tuesday, December 12, 2017


Logos is a fantastically complicated word.

It is derived from a Greek word meaning "ground", "plea", "opinion", “law”, "expectation", "word", "speech", "account", "reason", "proportion", "discourse".

To me, as we use it in the AJC, it has all of those meanings and more.

It is the Ground of all being, the Word spoken when God at creation said “Let there be light” יְהִי אוֹר

It is the plea of the Divine to remember from whence we came.

It is the opinion of the Gnostics, that they know the unknowable, and approach the unapproachable; that they make effable the ineffable.

It is the Law laid out for the conduct of morality, whether to be observed or broken.

It is the expectation that although now we see through a glass darkly, then we shall see clear.

It is the Word of God: Written, spoken, experienced, living.

It is the Speech of God: The great Metatron and all of continual creation formed through the continual Speaking, of which this material world is merely the most distant echo.

It is the accounting of a life, division of the sheep and the goats, the burning of the dross from the gold, the weight of a heart against a feather.

It is the Reason that is the foolishness of humankind, for the axioms of God are not the axioms of Humanity; and the proof so written is of a completely different geometry.

It is the proportion that says that every human matters to a Universe spanning deity, that spins all of existence for the divine spark on this rapidly rotating ball of mud.

It is the discourse of the divine with the material, the celestial with the terrestrial, the above with the below, the Kingdom of God within and without. It is not a pronouncement, but a conversation, and our part in creation, miniscule that it may be, is as important and valuable to the whole, as we don’t know how the butterfly flapping it’s wings affects the windchill in Chicago.
It is the whisper in the midst of the storm and the earthquake. It is the silence in the depth of contemplation that indicates the presence to the one who contemplates. It is the shout of joy of 10,000 voices calling upon the Divine to be present, God With Us, Emmanuel.

It is the word of encouragement spoken when words fail. It is the wind through a lonely graveyard, speaking of the efforts and loss and sacrifice and good riddance and all of the words of passing in the rustle of leaves. It is the cry of a hungry baby, the coo of a satisfied one, the last breath on the lips of the aged, the cry of terror from those whose time is cut short, the lover’s sigh, the cry of betrayal.

But above all, to me, it is the divine of which we can speak, and which speaks to us.

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