The Holy of Holies by Franz Kafka
A reminder of our vitality and passion.
The Holy of Holies is a term in the Hebrew Bible that refers to the inner sanctuary of the Tabernacle, where God’s presence appeared.
This is an interesting link to be made to the poem, as Kafka was ethnically Jewish, but he was not very religious — leading me to believe that the use of this religious motif was a symbolism to a physical place, or person, that metaphorically connects to our inner self. In this case, Kafka is inferring that the ‘Holy of Holies’ in question, is the way our dreams connect to the love we let into our lives. I think that Franz Kafka's ‘The Holy of Holies’ discusses the shedding of transient luxuries to embrace your ‘core, your ‘fire’.
In my opinion, the prose is an emphasis on the triviality of materialistic goods within life. Academia, wealth, and power can only take you so far in the life you want. In order to allow the things that truly matter (like love with others and love for yourself) find its way to us, we must first come to terms with the things we care and yearn for. The last line of the text, “neither can resist the other” Is an acknowledgement that we must embrace the inner workings of our heart and the things it desires, in order to allow anything of magnitude to find you.
We only resist ourselves by resisting our dreams.
“You must shed your nakedness and everything that is under the nakedness and everything that hides beneath that, and then the core and the core of the core, then the remainder and then the residue and then even the Holy of the Holies and let yourself be absorbed by it”.
Achieving these things may come as a challenge in our world — one that is adamant in normalising the industrial structure of knowledge; the robotic process of life and growth. Seemingly straightforward and simple, we very easily lose sight and awareness of the fact that we oversee our own lives and its fate. We abide by the system we’re born into; gathering skills; allowing us to obtain money which sustain ourselves — but are we learning to survive or are we learning to live?
Recently, the struggle of choosing between pursuits that nourish my soul, are often rudely intercepted by the awful reminder that my physical body and tangible mind require just as much upkeep as the brimming desire to create. Going to school no longer feels like a pursuit for knowledge, but a training ground sealing my fate to a life of formulated science. My desire to outrun this impending clock leaves me restless. I no longer feel settled in my decisions; constantly yearning for a breath of fresh air I hold little idea of obtaining.
If Kafka’s words ring true, and this desire is bound to translate into my reality, perhaps there’s still hope in the possibilities life has left to offer. Perhaps we’d be able to find there’s a compromise to the choices we make; improving the quality of our lives without giving up on our hearts. If only we stop resisting ourselves.
“You must take off your shoes, yet not only your shoes, but everything; you must take off your traveling-garment and lay down your luggage”.
Having moved around a lot, it’s come to attention that some places are more cultivating of life (versus livelihood) compared to others. And I hope this knowledge settles you as much as it does me. We’re always capable of adapting. If your dreams don’t work out in this city, there is always the next. Sometimes we are not meant to climb, and that’s perfectly okay. Sometimes the ground surrounding us can no longer serve us, and it is never a failure to part from something you outgrow. Despite whatever the world makes us feel, we are supposed to grow; we are allowed to flourish; to take up as much space possible.
Accessibility to love will always be limited without the acknowledgement of our desires. Embracing these two things, consequently allows for bigger things to make their way to you. Allowing you to find that fire and passion within your pursuits. And the big, irresistible, fire Kafka alludes to, was love. Love for yourself and for the world — however brief that love may be.
With no guarantee the Holy of Holies won’t burn us when embraced by that fire, it is important to remember we descend from stars. Stardust, trickling down like rain to create matter, its ashes burnt up. Everything on this earth was once a star and we were created from its death. So perhaps being burnt is not the end. Stars were created to burn with so much life, that its heat warded off darkness; providing beauty and light to billions of people.
Your pursuit for your own passion may very well pave the way for someone after. We are capable of inviting so much love and life into ourselves if we don’t get in our own way of pursuing the things we want. Not to be mistaken, however, that this means to stay in one place and burn, burn, burn until you burn yourself out. No matter how lovely or poetic the notion, we are not stars. Unlike our burning celestial counterparts, we were born for love and creation. Light years of separation do not isolate our hearts from one another; barricading ourselves with heat; surrounded by empty space.
Leading us to Kafka’s intended message: In order for us to invite love and light into our lives, we must first be honest with ourselves and to the world about who we are and what we want. Invite people that share and support in your fire, your dreams. Surround yourselves in love that uplifts you and your life.
I enjoy this piece by Kafka a lot because it is a reminder that we are allowed to let our feelings, ideas, thoughts, and our desires consume us. Even then, we are Holy; still deserving of security and sanctuary, regardless of what we choose to make of ourselves. To me, the piece is a loud cry, begging: Stop resisting yourselves. Allow yourself a life where you can finally stop hiding — from both the world and yourself. We are deserving of as much passion and love as we’re expected to give out.
If the world won’t contain the magnitude of our desires, build a community around you that will. Kafka show us that being in touch with your passion and dreams is key in finding solace within yourself. Your body is a vessel for the Holy of Holies if you allow it to be. Our body is the temple for our minds and our souls. Yet, that is all it is: A temple. Because it is us that our souls are made of. We are our Holy of Holies. You are love in its truest form. You are your own fire. And if you allow yourselves, you can invite more people to burn their fires with you — providing warmth for your hearts and souls.