The Vows (the Fifteenth Chapter)

The wind blows where it wishes, and you hear its sound, but you do not know where it comes from or where it goes. So it is with everyone who is born of the Spirit.”

John 3:8

Good morning, maestro! It was fun going to Anzuelitos last night. The fish soup was exquisite! I hope we can meet there again. Hopefully soon they’ll offer tequila or something similar there because all that beer will make me fat, no doubt about it.

Today I want to write about Halloween 2019, the night I abandoned my monastic vows. The previous e-mails talk about the years from 2010 to 2013, the last years I was in the Army. Now I want to connect these experiences with Israel, the van Ouwerkerks, drugs and the drama I had after my exodus from the Holy Land in 2019.

My experiences in the Army contained lessons I didn’t understand at the time. Remember my e-mail with the legend about the One and the Prince that describes an argument between two supernatural beings about the nature of reality? The Prince believed that reality was the product of our dreams, while the One one held that reality had been created by a perfect infinity: God. If my experiences in the Army were just my dreams, then they were a nightmare. I was not satisfied with this explanation. I looked for another meaning.

I mentioned in previous mails that I think I have have things to say. I also think I have an enemy who doesn’t want me to say anything to anyone. His plan for how to shut me up is pretty easy to decipher, if I may say so. I am a man, and half the population of the earth is female. And when this man, or anyone who is not fashion model, wants to talk to a woman, the enemy will inspire her to feel uncomfortable if she is under the influence of the evil spirit of this world that opposes the man who has something to say about divinity to her. If this man smiles while he looks at her, she will think she is in grave danger of being raped. As the rest of the humans on Earth are men, in such circumstances it is not difficult to get the first, female half to hate the other half: males. Instinct motivates men to protect the woman, and other men will make absolutely sure that the man with something to say will be destroyed and silenced. That happened with my cousin Dominic and our dear saint Harold van Ouwerkerk.

In 2018 and 2019 the news was full of articles about Harry Weinstein and Jeffrey Epstein. The archetype of the evil male was the center of attention for the civilized world.

This is something I can’t do anything about. Despite the gender issues I mentioned in previous e-mails, and those I will mention, I am not transsexual and have no interest in wearing dresses or having my penis amputated. But, apparently, the only way to avoid Satan’s curse is to stop being a man.

There’s a lot of evidence for this. Let me recap: I flirted with a teacher at my Russian school, and they sent me to the psychologist. I tried to ask my dear cousin for help, and her brother, my other cousin, threatened me with death. Invested with the reputation of being a danger to women, I tried to talk to a colleague, and they treated me like Frankenstein’s monster. During all of that I wanted to talk to the Fire Girl again, and they tried to ruin my career. Talking to a woman is an unforgivable sin, maestro!

Now I recognize that all that shit deep down comes from the devil using his weapons like Harold van Ouwerkerk to make sure Jonathan Bailey doesn’t talk to anyone about anything. If the devil can prevent me from talking to 50% of the population of the earth, he will rest comfortably at the end of the day that he has done his job. I can buy a Diet Coke from a female employee at Oxxo, but that’s all. Anything else is going to get me into trouble. And further, Satan’s most devastating weapons are religious people. In Muslim countries, even looking at a woman can be a crime. Religious culture is the enemy of communication. There you can only receive the wisdom of your father or your husband, or someone on TV. Everything has to be between lines so restrictive that nobody is going to talk to anybody about anything except what they are supposed to, which is usually nothing anyone could possibly care about.

But in 2012 I didn’t know all this, even though I already had already figured out that women were just fucking dangerous. By then, my identity as a military officer and protector of my country was ruined. After the military, I had to forge another identity and ended up entering a completely ridiculous place: the culture of religion.

The decision to become a monk began with an ironic event. Yeah, I couldn’t concentrate on work during those last days in the Army. As I mentioned, I was unable to drive on the base or in the city without getting lost. But I could concentrate on a separate and different world: the world of the internet and video games.

I found a girlfriend there. In a sort of prophetic irony, she was only 21, while I was 40 at the time. I’m not lying, maestro. At the same time that I had all these problems with women in my family and at work, I met a cute, young medical student online. Her name was Ana Maria Mironescu. We were friends for a few months, and over time we became online boyfriend and girlfriend. The romantic relationship lasted only a few weeks, however.

My mental problems got worse while I was “seeing” her. The days went by without being able to concentrate or think about situations pertaining to work, and then things beyond work. I couldn’t impress her. I had less and less to say. Shortly after starting the relationship with my beautiful young girlfriend, it seemed obvious to me that she would abandon me. I told her I would understand if she left me, that I wouldn’t get angry or sad. And I said something else, which at that moment I sincerely felt: “You will be the last woman I will ever love.”

Not long after I made that statement she left, and I decided to live the rest of my life as a monk. I didn’t live in a monastery, and I wasn’t the kind of monk people imagine. In fact, I was not technically a monk. I use the word because it’s well known word people use to describe what I was. The actual, accurate, technical term is “consecrated religious.” There are many types of consecrated religious in Christian culture: monks (Benedictine, Trappist), friars (Franciscans, Dominicans), military orders (Templars, Hospitallers), societies (Jesuits), and others. Most are Catholics, but Protestants also have their varieties.

In short, a consecrated religious is someone who takes an oath. He can be a clergyman or a layman. The oath consists of taking vows (poverty, obedience and chastity – called the “evangelical counsels”) and respecting a series of rules that define the life of the consecrated religious. The vows of the evangelical counsels are interpreted in different ways by various groups of Christians, and there are many disputes between communities and churches over who is a valid consecrated religious and how each group should be treated by other communities.

In my case, I was a solitary consecrated religious, which means that I had no order or monastery, but that my religious superior was my bishop. Catholics have wealthy churches, monasteries and orders, and the vow of poverty has a strict and unique interpretation. Often the individual consecrated religious cannot possess anything at all, personally. All of his possessions are the property of his church or his order. This gives rise to an interesting phenomenon: “My Ferrari is not mine, it is the Pope’s.” No one can exist without anything at all, and the solution of Catholics is to say that everything one is using belongs to someone else.

Since as an Anglican I did not belong to a rich order that could give me a Ferrari while claiming that it was officially theirs, nor could I say that I had absolutely no money. My vow of poverty was just a general commitment not to live for money. In this sense, for Catholics, I was not a real consecrated religious. Nor did I have a religious superior like the abbot of a monastery. My bishops lived in other states and they didn’t usually ask me to do much. So then I was not considered a valid consecrated religious by Catholics on account of my vow of obedience either. But as for chastity, no one could criticize me. Yes, maestro, there are various types of religious or consecrated persons who interpret chastity metaphorically. They say, “I am celibate because I am purified and separated from the world.” Not me. I was celibate because I could not bear the thought of ever putting my dick in a woman ever again in my life. In that sense I was a prince of monks.

My vows of poverty and obedience were very general. So in effect, I basically had one rule: to behave like a true Christian who was celibate. In short, my life as a “monk” was that of a Christian who avoided women.

I’ve always been spiritual. When I took the vows of a consecrated religious I did not become more spiritual, nor when I left my vows did I become less spiritual. I became a monk because I was looking for a new identity, since the one I had as an officer had gone down the drain. In short, I wanted to start a life without women. I had God as my only friend.

I was a monk for eight years. I learned a lot of things during those years. First, I learned that the identity of a lone Protestant consecrated religious was not a recognized identity. Nobody understands what a monk is, especially what Protestant monks are.

In fact, there are two types of Anglicans. Those who look like Catholics and those who are more like Protestants. In the early days of the Church of England, the English monarch treated the Pope as an emperor of a foreign nation to be rejected as a hostile political power. Do not forget that the Catholic monks of England in those days cared for many papal Ferraris, so the king appropriated the wealth of the monasteries in order to take the vast treasure of those monks who has¿d sworn to live without any possessions whatsoever. That’s why many Anglicans don’t like the concept of monks. “No one can be holier than others,” they said.

In fact, people tend to really only understand the ecclesiastical post of “holy chief,” or “spiritual big dog.” This job usually equates to some term like pastor or priest or rabbi. There are other Christian positions, for example, deacons, who do not enjoy prestige because they do not occupy a leading place within the Church. They are leaders, but not leaders. Humans are tribal animals and only recognize positions such as “boss” or “no boss.” Therefore, in most churches there are no deacons, and they do not know what deacons are. Imagine now the condition of someone with the title: solitary consecrated religious. That was me, an invisible. Funny, but sad.

For this reason there are many people who want to serve God and become pastors without being able to give a sermon or explain a passage of scripture, let alone manage a community. For them there are only Christians (no one) and pastors (spiritually relevant people). The process of formation of pastors is that someone who wants to be a spiritual big dog sucks the dicks of the heads of the church in question. This gives fellatio practitioners the merit to enter a seminary where they will obtain a certificate of ordination accrediting them as “heads” in a church. The cycle is renewed when some other church group approaches them to suck their dicks with the aforementioned intentions of being made an even bigger and better “boss.” Ecclesiastical careerism has been born, maestro.

Parishioners are supposed to obey everything the pastor says, although they often ignore it. But that doesn’t matter. His ego is satisfied: he’s a boss! That’s why the most narcissistic people I’ve ever met have been clerics. Maybe I’ll tell you in another e-mail about my experiences in the churches. For now, I can only convey that no one can simply analyze what another person says to determine whether they are telling them something of spiritual value. If the chief with his certificate tells them to drink poison or ride a comet to Jesus, it will seem reasonable to them. Nobody has time to question anything. And when they see someone with a vow of chastity, the programming that the media has injected into them will reminded them with ease that such a person is simply a child molester or a closeted homosexual. Remember my story, master:

  • I want to study Hebrew with your daughter.
  • I’m not gonna let a monster like you rape my daughter!
  • Dude, I’m a monk. “Vow of chastity.”
  • Pervert!

At the end of October 2019 this was accumulating in my head. I had just voided my visa back to Israel in order to get a refund from the school I had been attending. The van Ouwerkerks had blocked me and ignored me as is wise to do with a pervert. I was having a love affair with a Spotify playlist. I experimented with drugs that in order to communicate with the author of these Spotify playlists telepathically, but I wound up having telepathic communications with the Illuminati, or whatever the flipping freak Marcus was. I was going crazy. I read mountains of news articles about Jeffrey Epstein and Harvey Weinstein. Being a man, more than ever, was a crime. Meanwhile, Satan’s servants sold me like a whore and tried to rape me with black dicks in hotels. From the van Ouwerkerks it was clear to me that there wasn’t going to be any help from any church.

And, maestro, Protestants are not a monolithic organization like the Catholic Church. During my eight years as a monk in churches of various denominations, being recognized as a monk was a chore in itself. With all this, I realized that the idea of being a monk was ridiculously useless. That’s when I contacted my old bishop who had lead me into my vows back in 2001:

“I renounce my vows. I’m not a concescrated religious anymore. I hope you’re okay. Happy Halloween.

“The wind that blows where it wishes” is the true church, maestro. In religious communities you will not find much of this, of that which is “born of the Spirit.” In fact, the most dangerous predator is the one that appears to be benign. The poisonous snake that looks like a harmless worm is the greatest danger. Likewise, someoneone who carries a slogan of caring for the stranger and loving his enemies perhaps would seem to be a good friend. But this same man, if he does not obey his commandments, is indeed a cobra. Therefore, maestro, Satan’s greatest servants are in the are those who claim holiness through religion. May God protect us from them.

Because of this, I never could be a monk. For me, the van Ouwerkerks can keep their “church” of distracted hypocrites and ignorant godless shitheads.

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