Rabbi Morteira - Ashkenazic - Rembrandt's drinking buddy - both of them shitfaced on Absinthe & Gin was a glorious noise on the narrow Kolk which led to the rows of stinking warehouses where lumber, whale oil and unprocessed blubber was stored. Morteira was the honcho at Beth Jacob and the acknowledged Dean of Mokum Rabbis. He had come from Venice as a Yoot and was outside of the Marranos' world - in fact, like Sister Samuel ripping the Paganism out of Skippy, Rabbi Mort saw it as his mission to strip the remnants of the Converso Christian Patina off the new Ex-Marranos in ADAM. Morteira was dyed in the wool Rationalistic, a Maimonides freak with little patience for the Lurianic Kabbalah Hippies who were the offshoots of the Marranos and had brought Kabbalah with them up out of Iberia where it had been born - the Mutant-Child of Andalucia. Messianic Mysticism - dangerous, dangerous, drugs - it's a toss up which fucks with your mind the most. But Amsterdam was the New Jerusalem - even the Goyim were saying that, and all the new Jews out of the Spains and Portugal - they had this "Narrative of Redemptive History" Shtick goin'. They were living themselves the Heilgeschichte of the Tribe, for Christ's sake! Had not the Kabbalah told them that they were the Shattered Light, like god himself, which had been exiled out into the world? And now here was this Haven in Mokum A, this 'Jerusalem of the West' which was nourishing them and yes, even making them rich. How could you not see the Kabbalah manifesting around them? Rabbi Morteira would shake his sad old Rabbinical head and reach for the ornate Whippin' Stick that he used to beat the Halakha into his dreamy eyed yoots. He had laboriously carved the sigils of the original 200 Fallen Angels - the Anshe Shem - in twin serpentine paths which wound around the stick. He liked to start a wuppin' with Murmur, who before he fell from heaven had been - like all the Jews of the Diaspora - a Hybrid. Murmur was partly of the order of Thrones, but half his angelic ass was also from the order of Angels. In hell, Murmur was a Grand Duke with 30 Legions of the Infernals attending his every command. Murmur is a teacher of Philosophy and he makes the souls of the dead appear before him so that he can ask them Questions. He wants to find the wise-asses and punks like Skippy and Spinoza . . . Rabbi Mort would do a whiplash with his stick and the Yoots would end up with a Sigil of Murmur welt the size of Sister Samuel's knuckle.
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