Malchut, another name for Shechinah, Dweller. Divine Dweller, that is. Thus, a Divine Presence. Hod, Splendour. Shechinah she’b’hod, Divine Presence in Splendour.
But Shechinah isn’t just any Divine Presence. It’s like the presence of a loving mother. One who follows you into exile. Physical exile, but also spiritual exile. Emotional exile. She cries for you and with you. And then pleads with God to bring you home. Because you’ve suffered enough.
And because home will be a splendid place. Once you get there, anyway. A place without pain or fear or sadness.
Our cat Koi is in “home hospice care.” That’s what I call it, anyway. Our vet can’t treat him. He’s not eating anymore. Just sipping a bit of water every few hours. He can walk only a few steps; then he rests. So we set him up in the living room. He’s got a little station with water, litter, and a box he can hide in. He purrs and we pet him. We whisper that we love him. Then he purrs some more.
Soon, we believe, he will be in a splendid place. Exactly what that place is, we don’t know. Probably not a heaven filled with angels. Not a garden of Torah scholars, either. And definitely not the edge of a rainbow bridge, where he frolics with sister Keely. Because Koi’s true home is not really a place. It’s more of a way of being.
Koi is made of organic chemicals plus. We don’t know what the “plus” is. Spirit, soul, spark. But we see it whenever we see Koi’s body. Soon its way of being will change, too. And then we’ll see it only with our spiritual perception. It will touch our feelings, dreams, and memories.
We are Koi’s family. So, we will journey with Koi as far as we can. After that, it’s up to Shechinah. She will bring him home. And she’ll dwell with him there, too. Because she is his real mother.
This is about a cat, and it’s not. Sigh.
Today is Omer day 35, i.e., five weeks.
New to the Omer count? Here’s a primer.