Oh well, The Torah of Moses dictates that I take up with you any reasons in my heart for anger and hostile thoughts towards you.
Towards anyone of my brethren for that matter and everything I am about to share with you here is equally meant for the hearts of all my many blood siblings who are children of my father.
I loved my father deeply for many reasons, not the least of which was that he saved our lives when that fire broke out in Phoenix Arizona on the night we arrived there. The memory of his carrying me out of the smoke engulfed room as he promised to come back and get you and Debbie is engraved in my mind. I remember his coughing up smoky phlegm for weeks afterwards and still feel a sad and sweet gratitude. I can still see in my mind's eye his bandaged hand, injured because he had to shatter the glass of the door with his fist as Suzie had inadvertently shut the door locked when she ran out of the room.
I loved him because he seemed to stretch himself out of shape when he had us come to live with him and he tried his best to take care of us, something he honestly wasn't so emotionally equipped to do.
He cooked us potato soup with chunky pieces of potato and clumps of flower I remember feeling thankful for, on those first cold winter nights in that cheep hotel in Manhattan where we stayed with him, after Joan had sent us away with no explanation I can remember.
I also remember that he had little patience for me. I cried a lot for what appeared to him to be for no good reason and he often said as much.
In general I can say that my love for him was mostly, though surely not completely, unrequited.
My unconditional love for him stayed with me long after he too had me sent away at Malkah's insistence. She said, and her words still ring in my ears, "Either Jonathan goes or I will leave you." I love her too, anyway, just as Joseph loved his brothers despite what they did to him. Father's sending me away at Malkah's insistence was God's way of making sure I would reach out to him because there had been no one else I could trust for my emotional well being. My love for our father was also a precursor for my far more significant and even deeper love for The God of Israel, which only came to fruition when I was already 44 years old. 44 is "God Lives" in Gemattria - חי יהוה -and that surely became true for me when I reached that age.
Moses taught us we can look upon God as a Father.
The Moslems say that Allah doesn't have a son and therefor has no sons, that all are equal before Him, like clay in his hands. We are no more the children of God than the work of a sculptor is his child. Intellectually I agree with the Moslems, but far more important than my intellectual belief, is the love in my heart for the Hebrew Narrative where Moses tells us, " You are Sons to The Lord Your God".
The Moslems say what they do as a response and criticism of Christianity which perverts the Hebrew idea that mankind are the children of God, by presenting a narrative wherein God actually has a son who is preferred by Him above all others, a first born beloved son who He sacrifices like an animal to atone for the sins of His other imperfect sinning children. The Christian narrative is a perversion of Hebrew stories and is the consequence of a literal reading of Poetic and Artful parables. But I digress.
Looking upon God as my Father has made it easier for me to approach Him in my prayers. It has made my unfolding personal narrative more comprehensible when I conceive of God as a sometimes harsh, relentless and uncompromising teacher of my heart, a Father who has no tolerance what so ever for self pity or insubordination, yet One who knows me and my weaknesses to the core of my being and He therefor allows me to discover the folly of my choices and iniquity by letting everything fully play out, until I see myself the consequences of my folly and completely repent in my heart. My God, The God of Israel, my Heavenly Father, My God The Artist, is The Lord of Circumstance and Consequence and He has been both the Teacher and Master of my maturing soul.
I say all this as context for the more difficult things I have to share.
As I said in the beginning of this post, I have anger and hostile thoughts towards you and the rest of my family. Not in any way for the Eisenbergs or Joan's other sons, just for you and Don and my sisters except Suzie, whose mental health puts her beyond reproach of any kind. I have tried to ignore my feelings and the consequence has been that I have pains all over my body and my heart is heavy with despair over the fate coming to my people. The Torah of Moses is the constitution of my heart and its life serving interpretation is the guiding principle of my life, despite the appearances of what seems to be my very nonreligious life style. I even smoked cigarettes on Shabbat when you kindly last invited me as a guest to your home.You said nothing to me about my explicit disrespect for your values as a Jew. You treated me with respect as a true son of Abraham should treat a guest. Had you asked me why I allow myself to light fire and smoke on Shabbat, I would have told you that my behavior in no way means the Laws of Moses don't apply to me or that I believe The Halachah is wrong I would have told you that The God of Israel has told me in no uncertain terms to refrain from refraining from any activity on the Shabbat, because He Will no longer refrain from refraining from His Awful Wrath and its consequences upon the inhabitants of the earth, on all living things.
That bad.
God has told me that I am to be a Sign and a Wonder, אות ומופת
which is 939 like my name, for not only The Jews, but for all of humanity and like The Hebrew Prophets before me, the things I do and the words I speak are all meant to be seen and heard but not always understood or interpreted in a life enhancing way, as says the Prophet Isaiah,
יא כִּי בְּלַעֲגֵי שָׂפָה וּבְלָשׁוֹן אַחֶרֶת יְדַבֵּר אֶל הָעָם הַזֶּה. יב אֲשֶׁר אָמַר אֲלֵיהֶם זֹאת הַמְּנוּחָה הָנִיחוּ לֶעָיֵף וְזֹאת הַמַּרְגֵּעָה וְלֹא אָבוּא שְׁמוֹעַ. יג וְהָיָה לָהֶם דְּבַר יְהוָה צַו לָצָו צַו לָצָו קַו לָקָו קַו לָקָו זְעֵיר שָׁם זְעֵיר שָׁם לְמַעַן יֵלְכוּ וְכָשְׁלוּ אָחוֹר וְנִשְׁבָּרוּ וְנוֹקְשׁוּ וְנִלְכָּדוּ.
Verse 11 (of course) lol
"So with tricks of speech and another tongue He will speak to this people, to whom He said "In this is rest, let the tired rest and in this there is calm, but they didn't want to listen" And the Word of The Lord will be to them the manifestation of one command to another, one command to another, one line to another, one line to another, a little bit here and a little bit there, so that they go and fail and fall backwards and they are broken and ensnared and trapped."
Simply put, this means these are times of great contradictions and paradoxes, times of confusing doctrines and events, that can dishearten and confound even the most faithful until people lose their loyalty to God and err in judgement.
If I had told you that, you probably would have thought that my saying something like this is a symptom of my disease.
In response, I would have quoted what Isaiah wrote for me and about me in a different chapter, 53, called by some
'The Chapter of The Suffering Servant"
נִבְזֶה וַחֲדַל אִישִׁים אִישׁ מַכְאֹבוֹת וִידוּעַ חֹלִי וּכְמַסְתֵּר פָּנִים מִמֶּנּוּ נִבְזֶה וְלֹא חֲשַׁבְנֻהוּ.
"Scorned and no longer desiring the company of men, a man of pains and known to be ill, it was as if (God) had hidden His Face from him, he was scorned and we thought nothing of him."
That's me, your suffering servant, indeed.
Indeed my telling you this would have most likely just have made things worse.
You see, now that I have a face book page, actually two, and we are "friends", I am forced to confront my own reactions to the lack of any response on your part to my posts. When I address you, as I said, I address my other family too.
Our father once wrote me a letter, when I was being trained as a paratrooper under Boogy Ayalon's command as my platoon officer, where he said I have the genes of Kings of Prophets. He said this as part of an admonition against my "shacking up" with the girl I was deeply in love with, the girl who was to become my first wife, Nurit. During all of my army service, he had never written me a letter before this, nor did he ever write me a letter after this. When he wrote that I have the genes of Kings and Prophets I believed him, just like I had believed him when he told me that The Messiah would come from our family. Otherwise I was hurt that he had no empathy for my love and gratitude to Nurit, the love for whom had lifted me out of a major depression after I had accidentally shot another soldier in the thigh, almost killing him and maiming him for life.
Because of this letter I determined that I would marry Nurit and thereby show how his intimation that she was "easy" meant nothing to me. I married Nurit just a few months later on the 11th day of the 11th month, Armistice Day. A couple of years later, after we divorced, she was hospitalized because she shouted in the streets that she had had a revelation, that I, Jonathan, her ex husband, was The Long Awaited Messiah of Israel. She is now hospitalized again and says almost just as fervently that she knows I am the Messiah. She too is a Prophet of Israel. Again I digress. But I write for the world and not just for you, Danny.
You see, I must confront you with what I think and feel when I see you post no response at all to what I write. I must by Isaiah "demand a trial".
דרשו משפט=939
or as Moses says," יז לֹא-תִשְׂנָא אֶת-אָחִיךָ, בִּלְבָבֶךָ; הוֹכֵחַ תּוֹכִיחַ אֶת-עֲמִיתֶךָ,
וְלֹא-תִשָּׂא עָלָיו חֵטְא."
"You will not hate your brother in your heart, you will bring forth proof and prove (your case) to your comrades"
You see, when there is no response at all to my posts from my family, I feel insult as if scorned and ignored. This because I value respect even when there is disagreement, particularly when there is no agreement. Respect is demonstrated by no more than the acknowledgement of presence. "Yes, I saw your post and didn't read it because I think you are insane!" would be much better than acting as if I don't exist. I don't think anyone has to believe what I say about myself but me. No one else can see what I see going on inside me and around me, the unabated poetic synchronicity I experience, the kaleidoscope like artful falling into place of all the components of my consciousness, the unceasing evidence I have that I am The Messiah, The Son of David, and meant to say as much about myself no matter what the consequences to my reputation and my well being in the world of men, who choose to ignore a phenomena like me.
Now I am aware that my pain and hurt at your lack of any response is my own doing. If I didn't feel so much love for you, your family and my other siblings here in Israel and their families, if I had given up on ever having a place of respect in your lives as a man who has given his life over to the spiritual redemption of Israel by telling the truth about Israel's complicity in the events of 119, I wouldn't still care that I am ignored. But I do care and it hurts.
Now I have a humbling confession to make. Doing so goes along with having a fair trial. It is something that has bothered me for years and it is the knowledge that I have given you very good reason to think of me as having been insane. I definitely was. My God The Artist had me say and do things that I could only say and do by giving up my sanity. God shared with me in my insanity things I could never have allowed myself to experience while sane. Things that are utterly mind shattering, that are completely unholy and despicable as thoughts in my mind, by my own standards. The God of Art revealed Himself to me as having no self censorship, as The Complete Master of The Materials of His Creation. He showed me that he can put any thought or vision or desire into my mind that serves the purpose of having my complete surrender to His Awesome And Often Awful Creative Will. He acted to demonstrate in my own most intimate experience His complete Mastery over what I am futured to do and to say.
When I came suddenly to your home in the Old city with Itay, no matter how I behaved or what I said, I understood your difficulty with me and your struggle to do the right thing even went so far as to let your wife leave the house despite my having upset her severely. There was something about your behavior that seemed to resonate with my state of mind and that gave me hope that in some future time, we would cooperate somehow in the Spiritual Redemption of Israel You showed respect for my interpretation of The Laws of Moses during the few intense if short discussions we did have at the time. There were many meaningful coincidences at the time, culminating with the arrival of our sister Suzy who was to be a kind of judge of my admittedly deteriorating sanity.
At any rate,I soon left your home and didn't take the generous gift of money you offered me, saying I want your faith and not your money. Itay then left me and I was effectively completely penniless and homeless and without proper clothing in a rainy and cold Jerusalem winter. I had miracle after miracle happen to me but I was losing my mind, as much as I did try to resist this.
Then there were my demonstrations against Chabad's performing miracles by having people open a page randomly in their Rebbe;s writings and interpreting whatever was written as miraculous advice from the dead Rebbe himself. I was completely outraged by the picture of the dead Rebbe seated over a page of Talmud, waving his hand from above as if he were a miracle performing god himself. This blatant breach of the ten commandments, the assigning to the Rebbe miraculous powers and the beseeching of a dead man's advice openly and in full view of the passersby in the Streets of Jerusalem infuriated me and caused me great foreboding concerning the future of Jerusalem. I understood how Jews had created Christianity to overcome their grief over the death of a misunderstood miracle working Rabbi, 2000 years previously.
I was stoned, spat upon, beaten and arrested five times. though as you know, many police completely resonated with what I was saying and they finally refused to arrest me and instead began to investigate Chabbad for false complaints about me and giving false evidence to have me arrested. I was vindicated by The Police of Israel in my stance against idolatry and this gave me hope.
At any rate, at the time you seemed more sympathetic for Chabbad
than you were for me and I resented this. I somehow held on to the idea that we were destined someday to be allies.
And so at a later time, after I had started to take the street drug that would drive me to completely abandon any attempt to reign in my thoughts and actions, a drug called Hagigat חגיגת,which equals 424 like Messiah Son of David , משיח בן דוד
a drug Itay first bought me at a kiosk at =נביא ליהוה=המלך דויד=119 Dizengoff Street, 119 meaning "Prophet of God and King David" as well as also being the date of The Attacks against New York, well when I took Hagigat I just let go and did whatever occurred to me to be God's Will, no matter how outrageous. Just before this, or perhaps just after, I had been arrested by the police for no reasonable reason given. Yes, I was wearing against the cold, a long coat that had seemed to be abandoned hanging in some fancy synagogue and which I had just stolen, and I walked the streets of Jerusalem while I hallucinated that I was being taunted by demons and fairies for thinking there will ever be a Messiah for Israel and I was he. But the police didn't arrest me for that. They said something about my concealing a bomb beneath the coat. Even for me that sounded like an absurd excuse. They brought me to the station and interrogated me. From the computer they got a long list of arrests from my demonstrations against Chabbad and being removed previously on many occasions from abandoned buildings and other sundry incidents. I was quite concerned they were going to keep me in Jail, hold me, perhaps send me to a hospital for a mental examination and it came into my mind that you were the one responsible for my arrest. Like I said, I am not completely sure this happened before what I am about to confess because after all, we are told, there is no before or after in The Torah.
At any rate, once I came to your office and removed the sign with your name on it. I had found a little yellow Chabbad charity box in the cabinet for the electric circuits, which I might or might not have switched off, as I was frequently want to do, as The High Priest of Israel, Melchizedek, because the electricity was not Kosher! I did this successfully just before this, at a Catholic Church near the Tomb of King David, where I was rewarded by finding a plate of grapes in the electric cabinet which I took and nonchalantly ate as I left the church and some woman yelled after me, "Who are you and what have you done?" to which I replied, " I am the High Priest of Israel and your electricity is not kosher!"
Previously to this I had spat in the holy water the remnants of almonds that were still in my mouth and had defecated in the urinal instead of the toilet.
Which leads me to what I did to your sign..
I took a big hot steaming shit on it and placed above the pile of excrement,the yellow Chabbad box.
I think the act speaks for itself and needs no interpretation.
I was reminded at the time that the Hebrew description of God's waxing anger can be read as "And God's nose got shitty!"
or "ויחר אף יהוה"
God doesn't really judge us as He creates us just as we are, just as we don't judge ourselves for the shit that comes out of our ass. But when the smell gets in our nose we do everything we can as quickly as possible to get rid of it.
Look forward to hearing from you.
—
feeling blessed beyond any need for A Messiah of Redemption!
November 11th, 2017! 11:11 A. M.
A Catastrophic Tragedy! Definitely!
Down With The US of AmerCia.
29283812363938/11=2662164760358
Jonathan Michael Robbins
= 939=
יונתן מיכאל רבינס
Towards anyone of my brethren for that matter and everything I am about to share with you here is equally meant for the hearts of all my many blood siblings who are children of my father.
I loved my father deeply for many reasons, not the least of which was that he saved our lives when that fire broke out in Phoenix Arizona on the night we arrived there. The memory of his carrying me out of the smoke engulfed room as he promised to come back and get you and Debbie is engraved in my mind. I remember his coughing up smoky phlegm for weeks afterwards and still feel a sad and sweet gratitude. I can still see in my mind's eye his bandaged hand, injured because he had to shatter the glass of the door with his fist as Suzie had inadvertently shut the door locked when she ran out of the room.
I loved him because he seemed to stretch himself out of shape when he had us come to live with him and he tried his best to take care of us, something he honestly wasn't so emotionally equipped to do.
He cooked us potato soup with chunky pieces of potato and clumps of flower I remember feeling thankful for, on those first cold winter nights in that cheep hotel in Manhattan where we stayed with him, after Joan had sent us away with no explanation I can remember.
I also remember that he had little patience for me. I cried a lot for what appeared to him to be for no good reason and he often said as much.
In general I can say that my love for him was mostly, though surely not completely, unrequited.
My unconditional love for him stayed with me long after he too had me sent away at Malkah's insistence. She said, and her words still ring in my ears, "Either Jonathan goes or I will leave you." I love her too, anyway, just as Joseph loved his brothers despite what they did to him. Father's sending me away at Malkah's insistence was God's way of making sure I would reach out to him because there had been no one else I could trust for my emotional well being. My love for our father was also a precursor for my far more significant and even deeper love for The God of Israel, which only came to fruition when I was already 44 years old. 44 is "God Lives" in Gemattria - חי יהוה -and that surely became true for me when I reached that age.
Moses taught us we can look upon God as a Father.
The Moslems say that Allah doesn't have a son and therefor has no sons, that all are equal before Him, like clay in his hands. We are no more the children of God than the work of a sculptor is his child. Intellectually I agree with the Moslems, but far more important than my intellectual belief, is the love in my heart for the Hebrew Narrative where Moses tells us, " You are Sons to The Lord Your God".
The Moslems say what they do as a response and criticism of Christianity which perverts the Hebrew idea that mankind are the children of God, by presenting a narrative wherein God actually has a son who is preferred by Him above all others, a first born beloved son who He sacrifices like an animal to atone for the sins of His other imperfect sinning children. The Christian narrative is a perversion of Hebrew stories and is the consequence of a literal reading of Poetic and Artful parables. But I digress.
Looking upon God as my Father has made it easier for me to approach Him in my prayers. It has made my unfolding personal narrative more comprehensible when I conceive of God as a sometimes harsh, relentless and uncompromising teacher of my heart, a Father who has no tolerance what so ever for self pity or insubordination, yet One who knows me and my weaknesses to the core of my being and He therefor allows me to discover the folly of my choices and iniquity by letting everything fully play out, until I see myself the consequences of my folly and completely repent in my heart. My God, The God of Israel, my Heavenly Father, My God The Artist, is The Lord of Circumstance and Consequence and He has been both the Teacher and Master of my maturing soul.
I say all this as context for the more difficult things I have to share.
As I said in the beginning of this post, I have anger and hostile thoughts towards you and the rest of my family. Not in any way for the Eisenbergs or Joan's other sons, just for you and Don and my sisters except Suzie, whose mental health puts her beyond reproach of any kind. I have tried to ignore my feelings and the consequence has been that I have pains all over my body and my heart is heavy with despair over the fate coming to my people. The Torah of Moses is the constitution of my heart and its life serving interpretation is the guiding principle of my life, despite the appearances of what seems to be my very nonreligious life style. I even smoked cigarettes on Shabbat when you kindly last invited me as a guest to your home.You said nothing to me about my explicit disrespect for your values as a Jew. You treated me with respect as a true son of Abraham should treat a guest. Had you asked me why I allow myself to light fire and smoke on Shabbat, I would have told you that my behavior in no way means the Laws of Moses don't apply to me or that I believe The Halachah is wrong I would have told you that The God of Israel has told me in no uncertain terms to refrain from refraining from any activity on the Shabbat, because He Will no longer refrain from refraining from His Awful Wrath and its consequences upon the inhabitants of the earth, on all living things.
That bad.
God has told me that I am to be a Sign and a Wonder, אות ומופת
which is 939 like my name, for not only The Jews, but for all of humanity and like The Hebrew Prophets before me, the things I do and the words I speak are all meant to be seen and heard but not always understood or interpreted in a life enhancing way, as says the Prophet Isaiah,
יא כִּי בְּלַעֲגֵי שָׂפָה וּבְלָשׁוֹן אַחֶרֶת יְדַבֵּר אֶל הָעָם הַזֶּה. יב אֲשֶׁר אָמַר אֲלֵיהֶם זֹאת הַמְּנוּחָה הָנִיחוּ לֶעָיֵף וְזֹאת הַמַּרְגֵּעָה וְלֹא אָבוּא שְׁמוֹעַ. יג וְהָיָה לָהֶם דְּבַר יְהוָה צַו לָצָו צַו לָצָו קַו לָקָו קַו לָקָו זְעֵיר שָׁם זְעֵיר שָׁם לְמַעַן יֵלְכוּ וְכָשְׁלוּ אָחוֹר וְנִשְׁבָּרוּ וְנוֹקְשׁוּ וְנִלְכָּדוּ.
Verse 11 (of course) lol
"So with tricks of speech and another tongue He will speak to this people, to whom He said "In this is rest, let the tired rest and in this there is calm, but they didn't want to listen" And the Word of The Lord will be to them the manifestation of one command to another, one command to another, one line to another, one line to another, a little bit here and a little bit there, so that they go and fail and fall backwards and they are broken and ensnared and trapped."
Simply put, this means these are times of great contradictions and paradoxes, times of confusing doctrines and events, that can dishearten and confound even the most faithful until people lose their loyalty to God and err in judgement.
If I had told you that, you probably would have thought that my saying something like this is a symptom of my disease.
In response, I would have quoted what Isaiah wrote for me and about me in a different chapter, 53, called by some
'The Chapter of The Suffering Servant"
נִבְזֶה וַחֲדַל אִישִׁים אִישׁ מַכְאֹבוֹת וִידוּעַ חֹלִי וּכְמַסְתֵּר פָּנִים מִמֶּנּוּ נִבְזֶה וְלֹא חֲשַׁבְנֻהוּ.
"Scorned and no longer desiring the company of men, a man of pains and known to be ill, it was as if (God) had hidden His Face from him, he was scorned and we thought nothing of him."
That's me, your suffering servant, indeed.
Indeed my telling you this would have most likely just have made things worse.
You see, now that I have a face book page, actually two, and we are "friends", I am forced to confront my own reactions to the lack of any response on your part to my posts. When I address you, as I said, I address my other family too.
Our father once wrote me a letter, when I was being trained as a paratrooper under Boogy Ayalon's command as my platoon officer, where he said I have the genes of Kings of Prophets. He said this as part of an admonition against my "shacking up" with the girl I was deeply in love with, the girl who was to become my first wife, Nurit. During all of my army service, he had never written me a letter before this, nor did he ever write me a letter after this. When he wrote that I have the genes of Kings and Prophets I believed him, just like I had believed him when he told me that The Messiah would come from our family. Otherwise I was hurt that he had no empathy for my love and gratitude to Nurit, the love for whom had lifted me out of a major depression after I had accidentally shot another soldier in the thigh, almost killing him and maiming him for life.
Because of this letter I determined that I would marry Nurit and thereby show how his intimation that she was "easy" meant nothing to me. I married Nurit just a few months later on the 11th day of the 11th month, Armistice Day. A couple of years later, after we divorced, she was hospitalized because she shouted in the streets that she had had a revelation, that I, Jonathan, her ex husband, was The Long Awaited Messiah of Israel. She is now hospitalized again and says almost just as fervently that she knows I am the Messiah. She too is a Prophet of Israel. Again I digress. But I write for the world and not just for you, Danny.
You see, I must confront you with what I think and feel when I see you post no response at all to what I write. I must by Isaiah "demand a trial".
דרשו משפט=939
or as Moses says," יז לֹא-תִשְׂנָא אֶת-אָחִיךָ, בִּלְבָבֶךָ; הוֹכֵחַ תּוֹכִיחַ אֶת-עֲמִיתֶךָ,
וְלֹא-תִשָּׂא עָלָיו חֵטְא."
"You will not hate your brother in your heart, you will bring forth proof and prove (your case) to your comrades"
You see, when there is no response at all to my posts from my family, I feel insult as if scorned and ignored. This because I value respect even when there is disagreement, particularly when there is no agreement. Respect is demonstrated by no more than the acknowledgement of presence. "Yes, I saw your post and didn't read it because I think you are insane!" would be much better than acting as if I don't exist. I don't think anyone has to believe what I say about myself but me. No one else can see what I see going on inside me and around me, the unabated poetic synchronicity I experience, the kaleidoscope like artful falling into place of all the components of my consciousness, the unceasing evidence I have that I am The Messiah, The Son of David, and meant to say as much about myself no matter what the consequences to my reputation and my well being in the world of men, who choose to ignore a phenomena like me.
Now I am aware that my pain and hurt at your lack of any response is my own doing. If I didn't feel so much love for you, your family and my other siblings here in Israel and their families, if I had given up on ever having a place of respect in your lives as a man who has given his life over to the spiritual redemption of Israel by telling the truth about Israel's complicity in the events of 119, I wouldn't still care that I am ignored. But I do care and it hurts.
Now I have a humbling confession to make. Doing so goes along with having a fair trial. It is something that has bothered me for years and it is the knowledge that I have given you very good reason to think of me as having been insane. I definitely was. My God The Artist had me say and do things that I could only say and do by giving up my sanity. God shared with me in my insanity things I could never have allowed myself to experience while sane. Things that are utterly mind shattering, that are completely unholy and despicable as thoughts in my mind, by my own standards. The God of Art revealed Himself to me as having no self censorship, as The Complete Master of The Materials of His Creation. He showed me that he can put any thought or vision or desire into my mind that serves the purpose of having my complete surrender to His Awesome And Often Awful Creative Will. He acted to demonstrate in my own most intimate experience His complete Mastery over what I am futured to do and to say.
When I came suddenly to your home in the Old city with Itay, no matter how I behaved or what I said, I understood your difficulty with me and your struggle to do the right thing even went so far as to let your wife leave the house despite my having upset her severely. There was something about your behavior that seemed to resonate with my state of mind and that gave me hope that in some future time, we would cooperate somehow in the Spiritual Redemption of Israel You showed respect for my interpretation of The Laws of Moses during the few intense if short discussions we did have at the time. There were many meaningful coincidences at the time, culminating with the arrival of our sister Suzy who was to be a kind of judge of my admittedly deteriorating sanity.
At any rate,I soon left your home and didn't take the generous gift of money you offered me, saying I want your faith and not your money. Itay then left me and I was effectively completely penniless and homeless and without proper clothing in a rainy and cold Jerusalem winter. I had miracle after miracle happen to me but I was losing my mind, as much as I did try to resist this.
Then there were my demonstrations against Chabad's performing miracles by having people open a page randomly in their Rebbe;s writings and interpreting whatever was written as miraculous advice from the dead Rebbe himself. I was completely outraged by the picture of the dead Rebbe seated over a page of Talmud, waving his hand from above as if he were a miracle performing god himself. This blatant breach of the ten commandments, the assigning to the Rebbe miraculous powers and the beseeching of a dead man's advice openly and in full view of the passersby in the Streets of Jerusalem infuriated me and caused me great foreboding concerning the future of Jerusalem. I understood how Jews had created Christianity to overcome their grief over the death of a misunderstood miracle working Rabbi, 2000 years previously.
I was stoned, spat upon, beaten and arrested five times. though as you know, many police completely resonated with what I was saying and they finally refused to arrest me and instead began to investigate Chabbad for false complaints about me and giving false evidence to have me arrested. I was vindicated by The Police of Israel in my stance against idolatry and this gave me hope.
At any rate, at the time you seemed more sympathetic for Chabbad
than you were for me and I resented this. I somehow held on to the idea that we were destined someday to be allies.
And so at a later time, after I had started to take the street drug that would drive me to completely abandon any attempt to reign in my thoughts and actions, a drug called Hagigat חגיגת,which equals 424 like Messiah Son of David , משיח בן דוד
a drug Itay first bought me at a kiosk at =נביא ליהוה=המלך דויד=119 Dizengoff Street, 119 meaning "Prophet of God and King David" as well as also being the date of The Attacks against New York, well when I took Hagigat I just let go and did whatever occurred to me to be God's Will, no matter how outrageous. Just before this, or perhaps just after, I had been arrested by the police for no reasonable reason given. Yes, I was wearing against the cold, a long coat that had seemed to be abandoned hanging in some fancy synagogue and which I had just stolen, and I walked the streets of Jerusalem while I hallucinated that I was being taunted by demons and fairies for thinking there will ever be a Messiah for Israel and I was he. But the police didn't arrest me for that. They said something about my concealing a bomb beneath the coat. Even for me that sounded like an absurd excuse. They brought me to the station and interrogated me. From the computer they got a long list of arrests from my demonstrations against Chabbad and being removed previously on many occasions from abandoned buildings and other sundry incidents. I was quite concerned they were going to keep me in Jail, hold me, perhaps send me to a hospital for a mental examination and it came into my mind that you were the one responsible for my arrest. Like I said, I am not completely sure this happened before what I am about to confess because after all, we are told, there is no before or after in The Torah.
At any rate, once I came to your office and removed the sign with your name on it. I had found a little yellow Chabbad charity box in the cabinet for the electric circuits, which I might or might not have switched off, as I was frequently want to do, as The High Priest of Israel, Melchizedek, because the electricity was not Kosher! I did this successfully just before this, at a Catholic Church near the Tomb of King David, where I was rewarded by finding a plate of grapes in the electric cabinet which I took and nonchalantly ate as I left the church and some woman yelled after me, "Who are you and what have you done?" to which I replied, " I am the High Priest of Israel and your electricity is not kosher!"
Previously to this I had spat in the holy water the remnants of almonds that were still in my mouth and had defecated in the urinal instead of the toilet.
Which leads me to what I did to your sign..
I took a big hot steaming shit on it and placed above the pile of excrement,the yellow Chabbad box.
I think the act speaks for itself and needs no interpretation.
I was reminded at the time that the Hebrew description of God's waxing anger can be read as "And God's nose got shitty!"
God doesn't really judge us as He creates us just as we are, just as we don't judge ourselves for the shit that comes out of our ass. But when the smell gets in our nose we do everything we can as quickly as possible to get rid of it.
Look forward to hearing from you.
—
feeling blessed beyond any need for A Messiah of Redemption!November 11th, 2017! 11:11 A. M.
A Catastrophic Tragedy! Definitely!
Down With The US of AmerCia.
29283812363938/11=2662164760358
Jonathan Michael Robbins
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יונתן מיכאל רבינס
