A not very subtle allegory on sending Aaron off to Israel today
Once upon a time, I had a terrible headache. A very bad and distracting headache.
So I miniaturized myself and slipped into my ear. Making my way to my brain, I found the problem. A great big beautiful diamond was lodged in my brain.
It was the most beautiful thing I ever saw. It had thousands of little facets that caught and reflected the light. And every single one of those facets was razor sharp. It was unique. It was beautiful. And it was absolutely driving me crazy from the pain. Of course, I went up to grab hold of it and pull it out. But the tighter I held it and the harder I pulled it, the more it cut and hurt.
A peculiar thing. The diamond didn't seem too happy about it either. I know, diamonds don't have feelings. But this one did.
So I sat for awhile. The diamond getting more and more antsy and wiggly, cutting deeper and deeper into my brain and being more and more unhappy being stuck in my head and causing me more and more pain in the process. We sat glaring at each other for awhile, with my brain squarely between us.
Then I had an idea. I very gently, very tentatively, began to pull and wiggle the diamond. Not a hard grab like before. Not a massive full body hug. Just a gentle tug. The diamond was initially resistant. But after awhile it began to actually work with me. Gently rocking the diamond back and forth; the diamond rocking gently back and forth in my hand. After awhile, it hurt a lot less. The diamond seemed to be happier too.
Finally, with an audible pop. The diamond came free. Or freed itself. Either way, it no longer was cutting a giant hole in my brain. I took the diamond back out me ear and grew back to normal size. But this time, the Sun was setting. I held up the diamond and admired it in the sunset. It was, indeed, the most beautiful thing I had ever seen. Unique among all the other gems of the Earth. Uncounted thousands of facets cast back the dying Sun's rays in rainbows of color, illuminating unexplored depths within the stone. I could spend hours holding it in my hand and admiring the shifts of brilliance every little shift of position or change of light would bring forth.
And as the Sun set and the Moon rose, I saw the stars emerge and understood. It wasn't a diamond. It was a baby star. A baby star had gotten stuck in my brain and, now that it was out beneath the sky, it needed to go back up to the Heavens.
Of course I didn't want it to go. Who would? If you held such a beautiful, perfect thing in your hand would you want to let it go.
But I knew if I held onto it to keep it from flying away, it would cut me again. I knew that I could hold it down for awhile in my fist, but then I wouldn't be able to see it. And trying to hold it back in my fist would be very painful for both me and the diamond. Also, I knew it belonged up there in the sky. I knew it would outshine all the other stars and give lots of light and joy to the rest of the world. I knew I really ought to let it go, and in the end I would have to let it go no matter what. But I still didn't want to let it go.
Then the diamond spoke to me. It thanked me for keeping it safe and showing it how to shine -- even the parts when it was cutting into my brain. It told me I wasn't really
letting go, because I would always be able to see it in the sky. And wherever I went, whenever I looked up, I would see the diamond. It would shine brighter and more beautiful than all the stars in the Heavens. And no matter how bright and how beautiful it shined for everyone else, it would always shine extra bright and beautiful for me.
I opened my hand and watched it rise, slowly but surely, into the sky.