When did I forget expectancy? When did the passion and cry "Even so, Come quickly Lord Jesus" become so unfamiliar? When did the passion for the impossible pale with the waning of expectancy? Maybe what I really want is not to see as the mystic but rather to see as the prophet. To live a"...religion that is more prophetic than apophatic, more in touch with Jewish prophets than with Christian Neoplatonists, more messianic and more eschatological than mystical... more inscribed by the promise, by circumcision, and by the mark of father Abraham (who journeyed without knowing where) than by mystical transports, more like Amos and Isaiah than Pseudo-Dionysius, moved more by prophetico-ethico-political aspiration than by aspiring to be one with the One."

My religion might be "the apocalyptic call for the impossible, but without calling for the apocalypse that would consume its enemies in fire and damnation; it repeats the work of circumcision as the cut that opens the same to the other without sectarian closure; it repeats Abraham's trek up to Moriah and makes a gift without the return of Isaac... repeating the madness of giving without return; it repeats the movements of faith, expecting what we cannot know but only believe - of the blindness of faith in the impossible, but without the dogmas of the positive religious faiths."

Its about being "driven mad by a passion for the promise."

Even so, come quickly LORD... Amen.



(All quotes lifted from Caputo, Prayers and Tears of Jacques Derrida, probably out of context and miss used, likely miss understood, most likely with a switch in the referent.)