Love at the synagogue- meeting Moshe and Esther

Last Wednesday I met my twin soulmate. His name was Moshe, a tall muscular Jewish Russian guy who looked like a Torah scroll writer in the guise of a macho playboy.

 I was talking to an American guy who was a teacher to children with special needs and we got into an animated discussion until Moshe rudely interrupted us with the demand that I should come and sit next to him. I replied that he was acting rude and without respect. He stayed silent. Then after we got into the conversation again, Moshe took a more intelligent approach and eased himself into our conversation and attested that there will be a world war soon,  starting with a conflict between America and Russia. "The American government needs to be dismantled to prevent the war." I was not convinced but listening. I came to sit with him and he offered me dried apricots from Russia. I  took two. He said he liked me and offered me to show me around in his Paris, his second home. I said I was going to the synagogue at the rue de la Tournelle, he could go with me to show me around there. He offered to read my hand. The situation was a bit awkward. His sea-green eyes penetrated the whole room. Something very special was around him. He had a royal, mystical demeanor about him, but he was also trouble. After reading my hand he said nothing, which I found quite rude. "Give me your other hand." The way he was reading my hand was like he was looking at something forbidden, like a teenager looking at a nude woman. I replied I would only give my other hand if he gave me his. He replied that he wouldn't, as he doesn't trust people and he looked away. I replied that he lived a life that was not full. He won't experience the depth of it if he keeps his heart to himself. "It's giving your heart, letting it be broken and healing it again which makes you a full human." -I responded to him. He looked at me again in his penetrative way and looked away, as if he couldn't handle it anymore, took his stuff and ran away. He left the bag with dried peaches behind.

That day was my last day at the hostel. I wrote him a love letter. We both new we were soulmates. He ran away and I took a step forward by writing him a letter.

That letter was never received. When I called to the hostel a few days later, they answered that Moshe had a negative registry at all the hostels of Paris. They knew him for two years now and made an exception by letting him in. That night he broke a door in the hostel after becoming drunk. He also harassed the girls in his dorm. They had to kick him out, although he did offer his excuses later on when he got sober.

It's funny, but Paris also gave me romantic love, but like the divine one, this one was also of the unconditional kind. I probably will never see him again, but I have given him my heart.

The synagogue was a beautiful ancient building. A sign at the door said I needed to push hard. I pushed hard, but couldn't enter. I pushed harder and harder, but nothing happened. The a Mediterranean looking guy called me from the street and asked what I was looking for. "I am looking for the synagogue." I replied. The man signaled me to walk a bit further to another door. "There is always a way to the inside." - he replied. I followed him to the water fountain where he washed his hands and feet. "Should I do the same?" - I asked. "Do as you like." - he replied. I washed my hands. The rabbi had already started with the blessing. I couldn't ignore the striking resemblance to a Muslim prayer. I felt a healing power coming from his words and bowed my head down. The other men responded to the blessings of the Rabbi and it seemed like an interactive prayer with a special rhythm and intonation. the sounds echoed in the beautiful ancient synagogue. A homeless African was sitting silently in the back of the synagogue, he seemed part of the synagogue and sat motionless, reading from a holy book.

The Rabbi made tunes that reminded me of Moorish music from Al Andalus. The whole setting was poetic and spiritual and somehow connected to the ancestors, the Semitic and Jewish prophets who have become prophets in two world religions: Christianity & Islam.

When the ritual songs ended the Rabbi blessed the visitors individually through incantations from the holy book.

I then asked if I could talk to the Rabbi, his name was Rabbi Yves Marciano. Initially the answer was no, but the guy who had let me in pleaded for my cause and said I should go to him. I told the Rabbi who was surrounded by men, that I came to Paris to find out if it was indeed the city of love and that I was a descendant of Imam Sih Mimoun Skalli from Spanish Melillia and that he had kept warm relations with the Jewish community there and that I am keeping that tradition which is a heritage of our communal pas in Al Andalus, alive. The Rabbi smiled cordially and gave me his email. I  gave him and his synagogue a blessing after which the the group of men responded with warm wishes and blessings for me and my family.

Once I was outside I passed by the store of Esther. She was a Moroccan Jewish priestess of God. Her store was closed. It was already nine in the evening, but once she saw me looking into the window she opened the door and let me in. Esther's shop was quite special. L'universe de Esther contained sacred books and amulets from all religions of the world. Religions from the far past like the ones from Ancient Egypt and Babylon, but she offered also also modern ones, like the 'prophets' from The Secret with whom she also collaborated by offering them spaces to give seminars and courses in her shop and meditation hall. She showed me a photo of her in the holy land, standing in between a Palestinian Muslim Sufi Imam and a Jewish Kabbalistic Rabbi. "The young Rabbi is not only the friend of the imam, he is also his pupil and son." Esther's' eyes were twinkling while she spoke. "This picture gives me hope when I feel tired of all the hate and wars." I said to Esther that I work for the Queen of Sheba & King Solomon. "I am a witness of their unconditional love!" We seemed to have the same job, because she led me to her treasure case. She showed me an amulet by by a Jewish scroll writer and jeweler. A large ruby was encased in a hanger. Inside this hanger the scribe wrote the whole poem of the Song of Songs. The jewel was made by a master, this was undoubtedly the case. I looked at it in awe. I felt it's power. And took the blessing that came from it with me. 

Esther told me many stories. I wished I could stay in her shop forever. She gave me two gifts. The hanger was created by herself. It represented the flower of life, a concept from Jewish Kabbalah which said: The flower of Life, internal light of our soul, chooses a vibrational connection that is regenerative within oneself. 

After she gave me the gifts, we gave each-other a hug, I had met another sister for life.

& Peace 

& Love

From Paris,

Salima el Musalima