“The secret things belong to YHWH our God,
but those things which are revealed belong to us
and to our children forever,
that we may do all the words of this law.”
So the line was drawn—
between what is hidden
and what is given,
between the council above
and the command below.
The Torah was not too difficult,
not beyond the sea,
not in the heavens
that one should say—
“Who will ascend and bring it down?”
No—
it was near,
in the mouth,
in the heart,
to be done.
And they did it—
the scribes, the Pharisees,
they tithed the mint and cumin,
walked the outward path,
held the form of obedience.
Yet still—
they did not see.
For within what was near
was hidden what was far—
פלא
wondrous,
impossible,
veiled in plain sight.
“Open my eyes,” the psalmist cried,
“that I may see
the wondrous things from Your Torah.”
Not new law—
but hidden light.
Not another command—
but the depth within the command.
For the Torah was near to do,
but its fullness
was not near to see
without unveiling.
And so the Son came—
not to fetch Torah from heaven,
but because He was from heaven.
“No one has ascended,” He said,
“But He who descended.”
He walked among them
as the revelation
of what they had always read.
“If you believed Moses,
you would believe Me—
for he wrote of Me.”
But they held the letter
and missed the council.
They held the command
and missed the King.
For the secret things—
the סוֹד—
were not grasped by effort,
nor uncovered by tradition.
They must be revealed.
And when they are revealed—
they become פלא,
not hidden anymore,
but breaking into the visible
as glory.
Water turned to wine.
Blind eyes opened.
The lame stood upright.
“These signs,” it is written,
“manifested His glory.”
כָּבוֹד—
the weight of heaven
touching earth.
Each miracle a whisper:
“This is what was hidden.”
Each act a shadow:
“This is who He is.”
Not the fullness—
but the unveiling.
And Paul spoke of it—
not as something new,
but something kept.
“The wisdom of God in a mystery,
hidden before the ages—
now revealed.”
Revealed—
so that obedience might be whole.
Revealed—
so that blindness would end.
Revealed—
so that those far off
would be brought near.
No longer strangers,
but citizens.
No longer scattered,
but gathered in the net of the Kingdom.
Fish drawn from the nations,
light rising in the darkness,
a people restored
to covenant.
And still—
this is not the end.
For the miracles were signs,
and the signs were shadows,
and the shadows point forward
to a greater פלא.
Not hidden—
but seen.
Not whispered—
but declared.
A redemption so great
that Egypt will fade from memory,
and the gathering from all lands
will be the new testimony.
The hidden counsel was made/ty visible.
The throne established in Zion.
The nations taught in light.
Until the Temple itself
is no longer needed—
for YHWH and the Lamb
are its dwelling.
And the garden returns—
no veil,
no distance,
no shadow left to interpret.
What was hidden
is no longer hidden.
What was revealed
is now lived.
And what was once called פלא—
too wondrous to grasp—
becomes the reality
of those
who see.
