How many of us cringe at the thought of Abraham offering up his only son to the Holy One? And yet, how many of us gladly sacrifice our brothers and sisters in service of far pettier deities? Lust. Greed. Fear. We would much rather listen to them than any angel of mercy telling us to stay our hands. So let us spend the remainder of these forty days in mourning for those siblings whose souls and bodies we have maimed and destroyed. Let us pick someone each day and weep for them. The friend whom we threw under the bus. The enemy whom we judged as deserving of our wrath. The stranger whom we wrote off as collateral damage. And through our tears we might hear a voice proclaim, "These are my precious children. Love them." And then, perhaps, we will finally be ready to listen to our Brother, and to join him in walking beside our Parent in the land of all that is.