October 10 2022
I will not be a martyr. I will not be pierced by twelve hundred lances. I will not tear the skin from my face to appease the ones who see it beautiful. I will not martyr myself. I will not be raked by iron combs. I will not burn out, consumed by flames, gripping torah so tightly the torah burns with me.
By these words you shall live. By these words, you shall live. You shall live. you shall live. Even even in your blood, I say live. Even in your blood, live. I say live. By these words you shall live.
Daughter of Akiva, mourn him in his ways. When you see the iron combs, remember Akiva, and do not be raked by iron combs. Child of Gamliel, when you see twelve hundred lances, remember Gamliel, and do not stand ready to be pierced. Daughter of our people, do not cling to torah so tight the torah itself would burn up with you. Do not let your wisdom burn up with you, for surely we have lost enough ancestors already.
By these words you shall live. By these words, you shall live. You shall live. You shall live. Even in your blood, I say live. Even in your blood, live. I say live. By these words you shall live.
I will not martyr myself anymore. I will not run myself into the dirt and mud until I am so encased I become a golem, one who protects and fights and turns and hurts the ones I love. You must fight, you must protect, but you must love, and you must rest. I know you want to fight, but you must face the truth, you are not the Golem of Prague, you are one who is loved and must live until the day you die.
You are not obligated to complete the work, but nor are you free to desist from it. So slow down. You do not need to complete the work, but you must live long enough to pass it down to the ones who will continue it. For to martyr yourself so early, leaving work undone, collapsing and letting us all fall with you, is to desist.
By these words you are to live, you are to live, you are to live. Martyrs are cautionary tales. I will not pierce myself with twelve hundred Roman lances. I will not wrap myself in wet rags and set myself aflame. I will not rake my skin with iron combs. I will not peel the skin from my face and become something ugly, because the world cannot bear to see me be beautiful while it kills me. I will not make myself a martyr when the world tries to kill us. For our torah is black fire on white fire, and by that flame we shall live, and keep our flame alive, careful and sustained.
We will fight, yes, but we will live. Even in our blood, we will say "live."