Sunday starts the first day of the week. Again. Just as it has from the time we first began counting the weeks. The sun set, the sun rose, and a silent click marks one more step until the last one. Everything’s time is numbered, and an eternal clock ticks of that number, no matter what its allotted time is measured in.
One day, I do believe that clock will make its last click for itself, just as it will make its last click for my allotted time. Some time ago, I actually heard that click. A solemn voice said, “We shall not pass this way again”. I think I know what that voice was referring to, but since it didn’t seem to be a message for anyone in particular, I stored up the voice and the accompanying vision.
Since then I have closely watched the seasons pass by with ever ever-increasing rhythm. World events began unfolding with that same increasing tempo. Political boundaries have expanded and retracted. Mighty kingdoms have arisen, only to fall again. Ancient kingdoms that disappeared have arisen, some even with their former names.
And a people have appeared that don’t remember the former times, nor the lessons they spawned, and they too will make the same tragic errors that their ancestors made, and they know it not. Mankind, with his mighty intellect has increased in knowledge, but grown weaker in his wisdom.
And I don’t have the power to say “Stop! Don’t you see where you are going? Is it that hard to discern?”
But to them, I am just a cranky old man who sits on his porch and remembers the old days. And they are right.
The bat kol continues to wake me night after night, with simple words packed with images and meanings that are unutterable, so I remain mute, except to tell you I heard the click of a clock that was marking the passing of time.