Moishe Aharon ben Chava (Mauricio Rosenbaum )
This will never be an obituary.
Can you listen? I’m still waiting for you, I’m at home. To watch Timon’s game. I already signed the package. For a penultimate kiddush . Are you still here for me? I could see you, in dreams, and you were on the verge of invisibility. It was just a dream, one of those frightening ones. Time has always been a small measure for your presence. You taught me to wait. Showed how to laugh. Not just from yourself. But everything pretentious, doctrinal and ritualistic. You’re an architect, but you’ve always been more skilled in the art of improvisation. Here is an urban planner who dreamed of rural islands. But your specialty was the acute reading of the abstract world. In the detection of unusual ephemeris. In the disconcerting sound argument, in the language games. I wonder how you managed to predict the ruse of neuroses? I know it’s more than your sympathy for non sense. It must be the joy of detachment. Your receipts and insights, consistent with this innate empathy. Like Aaron, you needed to pacify to unite .
Your talent has always been to feel before what others never saw. And you only get serious when you echo Maimonides and the Hasidic philosophy : “you have to laugh every fifteen minutes”. The phrase that for laymen was meaningless. Ridiculing the unimportant, despising everything that is not playful. Another find of yours: beauty of indifference. you saw life in irrelevant things. for you, to the the objects have an autonomous life. your struggle for a late peace, the only possible, that which does not forget. Do away your past social struggles, your synthesis it became self-evident: work and art end up deformed by politics. Ideology is a senile lens, which distorts reality. It deforms the sense of permanence. And hence the synthesis, only the infused science of justice could authenticate altruism. you insisted: “Stand away from what is not yours.” In addition to the final advice:
“Politics? Never changed, never will. Engage in business, writing, leisure.”
You have also brought to your own another kind of understanding of the practical world. He founded, beyond your core of immediate contacts, the coming of a change that has not yet arrived: the lightness of routine, practical stoicism and contempt for the culture of suffering. That’s when you got the tickets for the elevated walkways . A paradise made up of imaginary places. A mix of London gardens with country country roads. Your “New England” will no longer have to wait for us all. It resides here. She will gather us not as a family but in the great dome of the sacred congregation. The possible utopia, the one you believe in like no one else. And, sooner or later, we will recognize what you keep saying: laws are not enough, no more revolution, heroic reformers, narcissistic grandiloquences, we have come to civilize the world through affection, and that is why it has always been difficult to tolerate us . Lately, you’ve been working out another system of notation, an original kind of benevolence. Do you want to create a new terminology? For dreams of rebuilding? From preaching free from dogma. Of the mild ridicule of fanaticisms. From the occasional indoctrinators.
Remember when he painted the lights like Chagall ? Or Van Gogh’s earthy yellow? And cross strokes? The Gruffalo Dinosaurs with a Consciousness? So, however invulnerable, we can no longer deny the tragic that your absence would impose on us. Forgiveness. Tragic never, just a mild melancholy. If we demanded that you stay longer, it was only because we knew of your ability to find us. Anywhere. In space-time, now abolished. But if the choice is the departure, let the direction be univocal, clear, towards the big “who”. And behold, your doubts about what the other world was were all answered. One minus: what will we do? We need your eyes and discernment. Understanding how a non-intellectual faith managed to overcome the pressure of skepticism. If we need to find you, it’s to learn more about the secret of your appreciation for life. You, like Leon Bloy , had that “immense curiosity” to know what is hidden behind the curtains. From which no visitors have returned. Mere misdirection, you always knew. The ‘Big Who’ you knew will one day share with us.
How can we forget about your dancing and tap dancing, your experiences with galoshes soup and the naive request for a lighter for firefighters that almost got you arrested? Your example of strength has not erased your indignation. Like private protests. A rage against disguised autocracies. Your sharp criticism against excessive seriousness. How many times have you tried to teach us about missing paradise? A place that was once an island, was once agriculture, it was your son Sérgio who preceded you. A Gan Eden that offered us an outside view of the tropics. The Garden of Eden, as Gershom Scholem wrote , can be the symbol of happiness itself. Your indirect object architecture and ingenious solutions. Your sophisticated arrangements for simplicity. Your comprehensive apprenticeship. The quest, like Tolstoy’s , for a justice based on personal spirituality. Just like the relationship with the heavens, folks. All of this was just to tell you that if this were a separation it would have no meaning at all. I’ve been taught, first the union, then the havdala , the apartment, temporary. We will forge a new time until this one finally reaches the meeting of permanence.
Forever, Father, forever.