Jesus: I Speak to You Again

Chapter 10

My Reflections

My mind would often resist fiercely whenever I reflected on the deeper meaning of our existence on this planet. As I spent more time alone, communing with the God of Israel in my own words, I began to feel a profound sense of peace and tranquility within me. It wasn’t the prescribed rituals of the rabbis and scribes that brought me this peace—it was the direct, heartfelt connection I formed with God. This realization made me question the necessity of rituals. If I could feel such peace without following the rituals, then perhaps rituals themselves were not the path to a living connection with God.

I began to understand that rituals, while they may have symbolic meaning, could actually hinder a true relationship with God. When people focus on performing rituals, their attention shifts away from the genuine inner connection with the Divine. Rituals, by their very nature, could distract from the living bond that exists between a person and God, a bond that is felt deep within the heart.

My own experiences as a young boy convinced me that it wasn’t rituals that mattered to God, but the sincere communion that came from within. I tried to share these thoughts with my parents, hinting that perhaps there was more to connecting with God than simply following prescribed forms of prayer. However, these ideas frightened them. They would immediately try to dissuade me, reminding me of the ancient scriptures, of the rabbis and scribes who had passed down these rituals for generations. They told me that countless people had lived by these traditions, and it was through these set forms of prayer that people connected with God.

Each time I brought up the idea of a more personal connection with God, it would irritate them. I quickly learned that no one was ready to hear that God loved all people equally. For them, such a notion was unsettling. The idea of a God who loved everyone, even gentiles, as much as He loved the Jews, was too radical. My friends and teachers at the synagogue school would be frightened by these thoughts as well. So, from a very young age, I learned that even when I spoke with the best intentions, people were not always ready to receive my words kindly. They were still deeply entrenched in their own beliefs and unable to see beyond them.

As a result, I kept much of what I thought and felt inside. I had no one with whom I could speak openly about the things that moved and troubled me. And yet, I couldn’t help but wonder why others didn’t see what was so clear to me. Why did they accept things as they were, without questioning or seeking the deeper causes? Why couldn’t they see that the way we lived was only leading to more division, more alienation, and greater suffering?

I often asked myself why I seemed to understand things that even the rabbis and scribes could not grasp. Why could I see deeper into life’s mysteries than my friends? These questions constantly filled my mind, but I could not find answers that fully satisfied me. I knew I was different, and I knew I saw the world in a way that others could not. Yet, the clarity I sought remained elusive, and my search for understanding continued to stir within me.