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Jan. 10, 2025 - Brother Nathanael
14:12
3 Episode 64: The Wind Cries Mary
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Time Text
Shalom.
The wind cries Mary.
The Gospel according to St. John, Chapter 3. You must be born again.
Now Jesus spoke mostly in parables to impart spiritual insight.
Stories about everyday life.
Sometimes about finding a job before you get fired.
Or about brothers at...
Don't get along.
Sometimes about not having enough money to finish a job you started or about buying land where a precious gem is planned before the owner of the land even knows it's there.
What frustrated Jesus when telling Nicodemus he must be born again is how thick-headed Nicodemus was.
Jesus simply was summing up Psalm 87 about how different races of men are born from above.
Nicodemus knew the psalm, all the psalms, all the Jews knew them.
So, when Nicodemus heard, he must be born again, he should have answered, yes, I know about it.
But how can I experience it?
Instead, he grovels on the ground with the most ludicrous thing of how an old dude climbs back into the entrails of his mother's womb.
So, Jesus tries again.
Except a man be born of water and the Spirit, he cannot enter the kingdom of God.
Jesus here reminds Nicodemus of the preaching of John the Baptist, that all Israel knew.
That he, Jesus Messiah, would baptize with water and with fire, the fire of the Holy Spirit.
So, somewhere between flesh and spirit, between earth and heaven, Jesus talks to Nicodemus.
When?
I listen to the wind, to the wind of my soul Where I'll end up, where I think only God really knows
I've sat upon the setting sun, but never, never, never, never I never wanted water once, but never, never, never
never I listen to my words, but they fall far below I let my music take me where my heart wants to go I swam upon the devil's lake But
never, never, never, never, never I'll never make the same mistake No, never, never, never You feel it, cat, you hear it, but we cannot restrain it.
The wind blows where it will and acts with irrepressible power.
But this dimwit Nicodemus can only say, How?
And then fast forward, then repeat, How?
You know, I've seen this many times in Smart People.
When I studied with the Hasids, you know, back when I was 20, 21, when I first believed in Jesus and my mother had a fit, so she sent me to the Hasids to reconvert me.
These were the Lubavitcher rabbis, Chabad House and all that.
There was a big mocker there.
Rabbi Dr. Abraham Twersky, talented as the greatest genius psychiatrist who ever lived, way beyond the mastermind, employ of Sigmund Freud.
He used to walk around like this.
So when I asked Dr. Twersky a question about Moses and how he had to deal with rebellious Jews, He could only answer in mumbled, Talmudic, twisted tones.
I wish Jesus was there, because when Jesus put it to Nicodemus, you're a master in Israel and know not these things.
Nicodemus could only mumble back like a flabbergasted nitwit.
Trying to knock some common sense into the guy Jesus hits Nicodemus with, if I tell you earthly things and you don't get it, how can I tell you heavenly things?
You see, we believe a lot of earthly things.
We don't question the impossibilities involved.
We're made from a little drop of liquid that's fertilized in the moist, warm womb.
of our mothers.
Yet out of this little dabble do you comes bones, hair, nails, tissue, organs, ligaments, color, skin, holes, bile, blood, lungs, liver, gel, vents, membrane.
Arteries, stones, vessels, caverns, kidneys, and veins.
Or, from a caterpillar, soft, squashed, forever shedding its skin, grows a hard shell.
And presto, a butterfly gives wing.
It's impossible, but we believe it.
Okay, let's cut to the chase here.
Jesus told his disciples that he spoke to the crowd only in everyday stories and parables.
But to them, to the disciples, the mysteries of heaven.
To them and to their successors, the elders of the church, get.
Not just the parables, but the mysteries of heaven.
These elders, they exist today.
I've met some of them.
They bear a certain charism that's passed from generation to generation through the laying on of hands.
It's inexplicable.
You sense it.
You feel it, like the wind.
You want to get close to it.
You know you're light years away from it, but feel you got to do something about it.
You're not sure what.
To get your act together, to get something of it.
I know of someone.
He wasn't sure if he was in the body or an out-of-the-body experience who heard words he couldn't quite express to others.
Yet, like a deposit in a bank, he transferred it to his heir.
Another saw a door open in heaven with a voice that cried, Come up here!
And the wind cries.
And the clouds.
And the wind whispers clearly.
A broom is drearily sleeping.
Of the broken pieces of yesterday's life.
Somewhere a queen is weeping.
Somewhere a king has no wife.
And the wind that cries very.
Thank you.
Thank you.
The base is there.
And the wind screams very.
Will the wind ever remember the names it has flown in the past?
And with this crush, this old age and it's wisdom.
It whispers no, this will be the last.
And the wind cries Mary.
Jimmy, Jimmy, Jimmy, Jimmy, the wind, Jimmy.
Blows where it will.
We hear the sound.
We're surrounded with its irrepressible power, so that by water and spirit, holy baptism that only the Orthodox Church confers, that through that water and spirit water and fire we will never be the same
I listen to the wind to the wind of my soul where I'll end up where I think only God really knows
I've sat upon the setting sun but never know Never, never, never, never I never wanted water once Never, never, never
I listen to my words but they fall far below I let my music take me where my heart wants to go.
I swam upon the devil's lake.
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