When I was married to Mojo we watched TBN all the time because Mojo had become a what is known here as a Pentecostal Christian while he was in prison.
One day Jan Crouch, (who Mojo’s, and my Jewish musician friends who lived on the property, thought was a hooker the first time they saw her on a a Christian TV channel and freaked out…), Jan Crouch was talking about taking letters to the holy land and gave an address to send a letter in to be stuck in the Wailing Wall and prayed over. I was already beginning to loose my strength and that was the last year I was able to be a landscaper.
“Ohhhhh! I want to send my letter too! I am going to write it!” Mojo looked at me with some scorn,
“You do not need to do that. Just Pray directly to Jesus and if you have enough faith you will be healed. You will never be healed if you do not have enough faith!”
“I asked God to make dad quit drinking and I asked God to make the bullies stop and yeah those things happened AFTER the damages were done. I believe in what I see and feel and touch.”
“That is why you cannot ‘speak in tounges’ and why you are still sick.”
He always blamed me for what I was and as much as I hated pot and cigarettes, and as sick as they made me, he kept right on with them. He would go to church and get filled with the Holy Spirit and then get stoned and buy us ciggarettes because I could not stop smoking around a smoker. I said once,
“If you loved me you would stop so I can stop because addicts cannot live together and only one stop. Remember when I did that the first time and you ended up with barbie because she did the same things you did because I stopped but I hated the way I felt with it all around me.”
“If YOU loved me you would have self control and stop and love me just the way I am with no bad feelings.”
“If you want to be a true preacher and holy man you will have to stop smoking.”
“I will some day. If you want to be healed of your ‘illness’ you will have to receive the Holy Spirit and talk in tounges.”
“I love God. I just want to send a letter like Jan Crouch is offering.”
“That is stupid!!! You don’t need a letter! If you had REAL faith you don’t NEED a letter!”
I got angry! Who was this hypocrite I loved who claimed he loved me to tell me how to be holy while he wanted to be a doped up preacher????
I wanted a part of myself to be in SOMEONES holy land! Some land that belonged to God what was stupid about that?
Mojo and I always fought about religion and hypocrisy and free will and destiny and all the things that intellectuals scream over. It was becoming a ‘holy nightmare’ and I grew to hate the kind of person who did not practice what they preached. To this day I can learn nothing of religion from anyone without love and a true spirit and a letting go of anger that is hard to do…..
This was in 2001.
In 2005, after I moved back home with my parents, I got online for the first time that winter in December (after reading the entire Czechtown library). I was very ill from radiation. I made a Myspace profile and met Deepam and Monad and an American Jewish doctor who lived in Palestine, when he was on vacation, so he could be a free doctor there. This doctor worked for whatever he was given. He believed in brotherhood of all peoples. One day I remembered that I wanted my letter in Jerusalem. He had said he was going back to help more people and would come back to America when his vacation was over. I asked him to take my letter to God and put it in the Wailing Wall with all the petitions of the others who had done the same. I knew what I was going to ask for, I thought, but as I began to write something else, very simple and short came out while I prayed and cried and wrote:
You know what I need better than I know. There are so many things I could ask for but at this moment I know nothing to ask for except please love me and give me what you know I need and let all those I love prosper.
The doctor took that letter for me and sent me a zipped video of he and his friends as they showed me this very old wall made of very old stones in the night with lights upon it. People there with tall hats and square boxes tied upon them rocked and prayed next to Christian tourists who had thier arms raised in the air as they prayed and up above all that the doctor said was the Al Aqsa Mosque. It was a mini tour. With bated breath, as if I were there, I watched the camers pan to his hand and in it, in a close up, was my letter to God. He found a place between the rocks there and made sure it fit and stayed. Even through the zip file video I had opened I could feel the power of that place.
Somewhere in Jerusalem is a part of me.