JR55: Healing: The Easy Way and the Hard Way

A: Apart from the Kingdom sayings and the puzzling Son of Man sayings, you also left behind some curious sayings about protecting the master's house and making it strong against thievery or attack -- especially attack from within. Thomas 21b and Luke 12:37-48 and Mark 3:20-27 all use this theme. The passage in Luke is especially confusing. Luke 12:37-38 is a makarism: "Blessed are those slaves whom the master finds alert when he comes; truly I tell you, he will fasten his belt and have them sit down to eat, and he will come and serve them. If he comes during the middle of the night, or near dawn, and finds them so, blessed are those slaves."

Now, I know you had nothing nice to say about the custom of slave-owning. So the passage in Luke (12:37-48) must be a parable, an analogy for something else, even though the Oxford NRSV calls these verses a collection of "sayings on watchfulness and faithfulness" rather than a parable.

“Therefore I say: If a householder knows a thief is coming, he will keep watch and not let him break into his house (of his kingdom) and steal his goods. You must keep watch against the world, preparing yourselves with power so that thieves will not find any way to come upon you” (Gospel of Thomas 21b and 21c, translated by Stevan Davies). Photo credit JAT 2013.

 
J (grinning): Oh, yes. It's a parable. One I wrote myself.

A: Ah. And I see that this parable references "the Son of Man" in verse 40: "You also must be ready, for the Son of Man is coming at an unexpected hour." Many commentators have assumed this verse is a reference to an apocalyptic prophecy you made. They assume "the Son of Man" is an actual person -- you -- who will be coming back on a future day to bring about the prophesied day of judgment. Is this what you meant? Because Matthew 24:36-51 certainly makes it sound as if this is what you meant.

J: Matthew, as we've discussed earlier, was no friend of mine and no friend to my teachings. Matthew was like a gardener who sees another's man field and hates the way the plants are arranged. So he sneaks in with a shovel at night and digs up the other man's plants and takes them to a new field and replants them in an entirely new garden composition and adds some new plants of his own, then steps back and loudly proclaims he's done great honour to the other man. Meanwhile, the other man's garden is a potholed ruin.

A: Always with the parables. You just don't quit!

J: It's who I am.

A: Okay. So what were you getting at? Why were you so fond of the image of the master's house that needs to be protected? Who was "the master"? Was it God?

J: Nope. The master in the parable of the responsible slave (Luke 12:37-48) is the soul of any human being who's walking around on Planet Earth. Any human being at all.

A: Say what?

J: Although today's commentators assume I was an idiot who spouted apocalyptic prophecy and hadn't a drop of common sense in me, I actually had a "method to my madness." The sayings I left behind all speak to a few internally consistent, common sense teachings about the soul. I said a small number of things a great many times. The things I said all relate to each other in a logical, coherent, heart-based way. If I spoke again and again about the psychological reality of the Kingdom (wholeness and maturity of the self), and the importance of respecting "boundaries of the self" and "boundaries of the other," and the potential of human beings -- all human beings -- to seek healing and redemption throught the power of forgiveness, then there's only one person this "master" can be. The master is the self. The master is the core self, the soul that each person is. The true self. This parable is a metaphor about the human brain. It's an attempt to explain in layman's terms what's going on instead a person's head, and why there's no such thing as demon possession. It's an attempt to explain why the path of redemption seems so harsh at times.

A: "Foxes have holes and birds have nests, but the Son of Man has no place to lay down his head and rest." (Thomas 86)

J: Yes. Foxes know who they are and where their "home" is. Birds know who they are and how to build a home for themselves and their children. Human beings, of all God's creatures on Planet Earth, are the least likely to know who they are and how to build a "home" for their highest potential. For a human being, this home is their brain -- their biological brain and central nervous system. This home has to be painstakingly built over many years. Nothing so simple as building a bird's nest, no sir! The "insides" of a person have to be carefully built to match the "outsides." This is the holistic path to maturity for all human beings.

A: This goes back to what you were saying a few days ago about Saying 22 in the Gospel of Thomas. (http://jesusredux.blogspot.com/2011/06/saying-22-in-gospel-of-thomas.html ) One thing I love about your teachings on wholeness -- on Whole Brain Thinking -- is the fairness of it. These teachings apply to all people in all places in all cultures. It's radically egalitarian. Everyone gets the same basic toolkit for building a garden of peace. But each person's garden will look different because each soul is different. I just love that part!

J: Yes, but before they can get to the point of being able to admire each other's gardens -- instead of envying and destroying each other's gardens -- they have to get through the healing stage. This is the stage where most people quit, where they run away from the difficulties and challenges of building an inner "home" -- a field full of good soil -- inside their own heads. This is the stage most people don't even know IS a stage.

A: The Church has done precious little to help us understand this -- even today, when we have so much knowledge about the human brain and its hard-wiring for empathy and change.

J: Two thousand years ago, I certainly had no knowledge of neuroanatomy or neurophysiology or neurotransmitters or the like. But I was a keen observer of human nature, and I was scientifically minded. More to the point, I was a mystic. I had unflinching faith in God's goodness because of my mystical practice, and I knew there had to be something better than "demon possession" to account for frightening behaviour. So I looked to a scientific model. It wasn't that hard, really. You work through empirical observation and rudimentary statistical analysis. That's how all science advanced for thousands of years until recently. You take careful notes, you try to stay objective, you look for patterns, you try to prove you didn't simply invent the patterns because you wanted to see them. Objectivity is crucial, of course. If you're determined to find an imaginary Cause X, you'll find it because you want to. However, this isn't science. This is narcissism.

A: So your lack of narcissism -- or I suppose I should say your eventual lack of narcissism -- made you more open to honest fact-finding about the human condition.

J: I was open to the idea that there could be scars on the inside of a person's body as well as on the outside.

A: In James 1:8, you use the unusual Greek word "dipsychos," which is usually translated in English as "double-minded." What were you getting at here?

J: If you read the parts of the Letter of James that I wrote -- James 1:2-27; 2:1-8a; and 3:1-18 -- you can see me struggling to put into words the problem of understanding the human brain and all its competing "intents." I used several different metaphors there to try to explain what a lack of inner wholeness results in. Which is tragedy. Pain, suffering, and tragedy.

A: You also express the idea in James 1:8 that "the doubter, being double-minded and unstable in every way, must not expect to receive anything from the Lord." This is a pretty tough statement, don't you think?

J: Many will think so. They'll assume I'm talking about divine judgment and divine retribution. But I'm not. I'm talking about the scientific reality of the soul-body nexus. I'm talking about the built-in set of checks and balances that exists within the human self to promote mature, loving choices.

I'm going to come at your question from a different direction. If there really is a God, and there really are good souls, and there really are souls who choose to incarnate in a temporary 3D body where they have to struggle to balance the needs of their souls and the needs of their biological bodies . . . would it make sense to you in this context that God would refuse to provide built-in roadmaps and compasses and warning signals and obvious feedback so you could safely navigate all the confusion? Does that make sense to you?

A: No.

J: It didn't make sense to me, either. So in the parable of the responsible slave, the "house" of the master is -- to use you as an example (sorry, hope you don't mind) -- is your entire head, including your skull. The "master" is your soul, and in particular the non-plastic parts of your brain that are controlled by the thoughts and feelings and actions of your soul. The "slaves" are the semi-autonomous regions of your brain that are supposed to be in charge of your physiological needs, but which all too often end up running the show -- and doing a very poor job of it, I might add. If you were to let the "slaves" manage your choices, abuses would occur. Abuses of your self and abuses of others. Naturally, your core self -- your soul -- wouldn't like this very much, and your core self would have something to say about it. This isn't punishment "from above." This is you standing up for your own core integrity! This is you trying to get yourself back in balance!

A: By first recognizing that there's a problem. With your own choices.

J: Healing begins with insight. Before you can heal, you have to admit there's a problem. Unfortunately, people can get their heads caught up in some pretty unhealthy thinking patterns. They can become so dysfunctional that they confuse the "slaves" with the "master." They can't hear their own inner voice, even though the inner voice never stops talking.

There's always the easy way and the hard way. You can listen to your own inner voice, and begin to heal, in which case the journey won't be as difficult.

A: You'll get a "light beating" (Luke 12:48).

J: The majority of human beings, then and now, however, end up by default on the hard way.

A: So their bodies get a "severe beating" (Luke 12:47) from their own souls.

J: Well, it looks that way from the outside in the beginning.

A: People will say you're blaming the victims of illness.

J: It's not that simple. People get ill for a variety of reasons. But ONE of the reasons people get sick is because they opt to make certain very poor choices. This is simply a statement of fact. It's not a judgment to say that a person who chooses to eat 5,000 calories per day and is morbidly obese (with all the attendant health problems of extreme obesity) bears SOME of the responsibility for his or her state of health.

A: When you put it that way, it seems pretty fair and reasonable. There are lots of intentional human choices that can lead to serious illness and disability. We often don't want to change the choices we make until we really, really understand the consequences that are involved.

J: Observable consequences are part of each person's built-in roadmap for living a life of wholeness in accordance with the wishes and needs of the soul. If your biological body is way out of balance, you need to listen to what your soul is saying. It's only common sense.

JR54: The Meaning of "the Son of Man"

A: We've been talking a lot about the Kingdom and gardens and finding peace through personal responsibility. How does the phrase "the Son of Man" fit into all this? If ever there was a phrase in the New Testament that people don't understand, it's the "Son of Man" phrase -- ho hyios tou anthropou in Koine Greek, bar nasa in Aramaic, and ben adam in Hebrew. Somehow I suspect the translation of the Greek phrase into English doesn't do justice to the original meaning. 

J: It's very easy to forget that the Hebrew word adam wasn't used primarily as a name in Second Temple Judaism. Adam can also be translated as "ground/soil" or as "humankind." Similarly, the Greek word anthropos meant "humankind," not just "human beings of the male sex." These nuances are lost in the traditional English translation "Son of Man." A much better translation in English would be "essence of humanity" or "highest potential of humankind." I used the phrase ho hyios tou anthropou to express a concept -- a concept for which no vocabulary existed at the time.  

“Jesus said: Adam came into being from enormous power and wealth, but he was never worthy of you, for had he been worthy of you he would not have died” (Gospel of Thomas 85). This saying doesn’t make much sense unless you stop to consider what Genesis 2-3 says about the allegorical relationship between humankind (Adam) and God. In the Garden of Eden, there are two trees that embody the deepest and most mystical elements of God, Creation, and faith: (1) the tree of life and (2) the tree of knowledge of good and evil. These two trees are supposed to be in balance, and while they are, Adam and Eve live a life of trusting relationship with God. At some point, however, Eve, followed quickly by Adam, decide they’re more interested in having knowledge than in having a trusting relationship with God. So they eat of the metaphorical fruit from the tree of knowledge and find themselves aligned with the many ancient philosopher kings who also chose knowledge over relationship with God. In Jesus’ teachings, choosing a life that places knowledge far above trust, love, and relationship with God is really no life at all. For Jesus, the mind is important, but not more important than the heart. So the metaphorical example of Adam and Eve — who lost the balance between mind and heart and as a result struggled for the rest of their lives with “death” instead of “life” — is not the example we should be following. Seek instead the path of peace that’s based on relationship with God. This ivory depicting The Fall of Man (by Balthasar Griessmann, c. 1670-1690) is part of the Thomson Collection at the Art Gallery of Ontario. Photo credit JAT 2018.

A: What concept were you trying to teach about? Enlightenment?  

J: No. Forgiveness.  

A: Sayings 85 and 86 in the Gospel of Thomas refer to "Adam" and to "the son of man." Saying 85 says, "Jesus said: Adam came into being from enormous power and wealth, but he was never worthy of you, for had he been worthy of you he would not have died." Saying 86 goes on to say, "Jesus said: Foxes have holes and birds have nests, but the son of man has no place to lay down his head and rest." Thomas 86 also appears almost word for word in Luke 9:58. How do these verses relate to the concept of forgiveness?  

J (sighing): I've always been fond of word plays, puns, alliterations, rhymes, and poetry. "Foxes have holes and birds of heaven have nests, but the son of man has nowhere to lay his head" sounded catchier in Greek than it does in English.  

A: But I guess the important thing to keep in mind is the fact that you weren't talking about a particular man in this saying. You weren't talking about yourself. You were trying to explain a concept that was unfamiliar to your students.  

J (nodding): The people around me had been raised on a steady diet of values that had no place in humanity's relationship with God the Mother and God the Father. No matter where you turned, you heard tales of might, tales of glory, tales of revenge. Everyone thought they had the "correct" God -- or gods -- on their side. Everyone thought they were truly pious, truly deserving of divine reward. Everyone had their own version of the "God will avenge me" myth. The avenging God had as many "faces" as a circus performer has costumes.  

If you were a person with a black sense of humour -- as I came to be -- you could go to bed in the evening and count all the ways you'd offended this god and that god in umpteen hidden ways on that day alone. You could count all the ways you'd be punished. You could count all the ways your masters would take revenge against you for your "heinous crimes" against God. Of course, it was your earthly masters -- not the unseen gods of heaven -- who were the ones who had the rod in their hands to beat you. It was your earthly masters who would use any "divine" excuse possible to beat you into submission and humility.  

But they'd often go easy on you if you offered a payment. Some sort of compensation -- an eye for an eye. Some sort of bribe. Contract laws dictated what terms of compensation were acceptable. These contract laws weren't civil laws in the way you'd understand a Western nation's legal codes today. These contract laws had political and economic purposes, of course, but they were primarily religious laws and traditions. Nomos in Greek. Nomos provided a list of crimes and a list of acceptable "payments" to balance the scales if you committed a crime. Often these "payments" were sacrifices. Temple sacrifices. In most Greco-Roman religions of the time -- not just Judaism -- you could bring a sacrifice (a payment, really) to the local temple so you could literally "buy back" God's favour. This is what "redemption" used to mean. It meant trading something you had -- money or goods or livestock or agricultural produce -- to get something you needed: divine favour. It had nothing to do with divine love or divine forgiveness as you and I have defined these concepts on this site.  

A: And then there was slavery. The actual buying and selling of human beings based on contract laws. A slave could, under certain circumstances, "buy back" his rights. Or a slave could be manumitted -- legally freed by his or her "owner." But contract law gave people the excuse they needed to treat others cruelly. Contract law justified their cruelty.  

J: They gave themselves permission to violate the soul's own understanding of free will, justice, integrity, and respect. They were listening to their own selfishness and not to God's voice. And I said so. Out loud. Frequently.  

A: So your friends and students were conditioned to understand their relationship with God in terms of contract law. In terms of payments to a master or sovereign lord. In terms of monetary debts or "obligatory service contracts" (i.e. slavery). 

J: Slavery was -- and is -- a terrible violation of the soul, of what it means to be a soul, a child of God. Slavery is an artificially created human condition in which a slave's personal boundaries are invaded in every way imaginable. A slave is forced to give up all rights to physical and sexual safety. All rights to choose where and with whom to be in relationship. All rights to follow his or her own soul's calling. Even a slave who has property -- and there were many wealthy slaves in the Roman Empire -- even such a slave is taught to believe he doesn't actually own the skin he's in. It's not his. It belongs to somebody else. His own skin is "dead" to him. His mind and his heart may be free, but his skin -- his body -- is dead. He can't view himself as whole -- as a "whole bean" -- because in his own mind and in the mind of his society he isn't whole. He's a sort of ghoulish inhabitant of a body that belongs to somebody else. If, in addition to being a slave, he's also sexually violated -- a fate that was brutally common for young boys and girls in the first century Empire -- chances are extremely high that he'll grow up to be seriously mentally ill. Why? Because children who are beaten and sexually abused and psychologically tortured bear the scars of that treatment in their biological brains, bodies, and psyches until they are healed. It's a simple statement of fact.  

A: You can see how this kind of treatment would lead to dissociative disorders. A person who's disconnected from emotions. Disconnected from a strong sense of boundaries and personal space. 

J: I was trying to get at the point that even lowly foxes and humble birds are given their own personal space, their own "home," their own sanctuary by God. Foxes and birds will defend their own homes with all their might, as they have a right to do. They don't have the right to steal another creature's home, but they do have the right to protect the one they have. God gives no less a right to all human beings. No human contract law "written in stone" anywhere at any time can supersede the obvious truth that each human being owns his own skin and is the sovereign of his own domain, his own personal kingdom. When he knows this and feels this and lives this, he feels alive. He feels whole. He feels at peace.  

A: This is the state of "living" that you refer to so often in the Gospel of Thomas.  

J: Yes. It's a psychological state of balance and health. There's nothing occult about it. It's the natural outcome of making choices that lead to emotional maturity. It's the natural outcome of choosing to live according to the highest potential of humankind. It's the truest essence of humanity.  

A: People being their best selves. On purpose.  

J: Yes. On purpose. It's so very much about the purpose. About the purposefulness of "living." Which is where forgiveness comes in. 

A: How so?  

J: Christians are usually taught to think of forgiveness as an act of grace on God's part, as a somewhat sudden and fickle choice on God's part, as something that human beings can participate in but can't initiate. Paul tries very hard to give this impression to his readers. But forgiveness is the opposite of suddenness and fickleness and "divine transcendence." Forgiveness is purposefulness. Purposefulness of a particular kind. Forgiveness is what you get when you choose to combine your free will and your courage and your love. There's nothing accidental or preordained about it. It's a choice. An ongoing choice that calls upon the greatest resources of the eternal soul -- each and every soul. It's the choice to love someone wholly in the absence of payment or retribution or just compensation. Divine forgiveness is not settlement of a debt. Debt doesn't enter into the equation. Education, mentorship, and personal responsibility enter into the equation, but not debt.  

A: This is soooooooo not what they taught me in theological school.

JR53: Saying 22 in the Gospel of Thomas

A: At the beginning of Stevan Davies's translation of the Gospel of Thomas, there's a Foreword written by Andrew Harvey. Harvey says this about the Gospel of Thomas: "If all the Gospel of Thomas did was relentlessly and sublimely champion the path to our transfiguration and point out its necessity, it would be one of the most important of all religious writings -- but it does even more. In saying 22, the Gospel of Thomas gives us a brilliantly concise and precise 'map' of the various stages of transformation that have be unfolded in the seeker for the 'secret' to be real in her being and active though [sic?] all her powers. Like saying 13, saying 22 has no precedent in the synoptic gospels and is, I believe, the single most important document of the spiritual life that Jesus has left us (pages xxi-xxii)."
 
Harvey then plunges into 5 pages of rapture on the ectastic meaning of Saying 22. None of which I agree with, of course. And none of which you're likely to agree with, either, if experience is any guide. But I thought maybe you and I could have a go at it.
 
J: By all means.
 
A: Okay. Here's the translation of Saying 22 as Stevan Davies's writes it:

"Jesus saw infants being suckled. He said to his disciples: These infants taking milk are like those who enter the Kingdom. His disciples asked him: If we are infants will we enter the Kingdom? Jesus responded: When you make the two into one, and when you make the inside like the outside and the outside like the inside, and the upper like the lower and the lower like the upper, and thus make the male and the female the same, so that the male isn't male and the female isn't female. When you make an eye to replace an eye, and a hand to replace a hand, and a foot to replace a foot, and an image to replace an image, then you will enter the Kingdom (page xxii and 25-27)."

Harvey's interpretation of this saying speaks of an "alchemical fusion" and a "Sacred Androgyne" who "'reigns' over reality" with actual "powers that can alter natural law" because he or she has entered a transformative state of "mystical union," where "the powers available to the human being willing to undertake the full rigor of the Jesus-transformation are limitless."

I'm not making this up, though I wish I were.

J: And there I was, talking about a little ol' mustard seed . . . . It's a terrific example of the danger of using "wisdom sayings" as a teaching tool. People have a tendency to hear whatever they want to hear in a simple saying. Parables are much harder to distort. Eventually I caught on to the essential problem that's created when you choose to speak indirectly to spare other people's feelings. When you use poetry instead of blunt prose, it's much easier for other people to twist your meaning intentionally. You can see the same understanding in the Gospel of Mark. Mark is blunt. He doesn't waste time on cliches and "wisdom words." He goes straight for the truth, and leaves no wiggle room for gnostic-type interpretations.

“The disciples said to Jesus: ‘Tell us what the Kingdom of Heaven is like.’ He replied: ‘It is like a mustard seed, the smallest of all. However, when it falls into worked ground, it sends out a large stem, and it becomes a shelter for the birds of heaven'” (Gospel of Thomas 20). Mustard Seeds by David Turner 2005, licensed under the Creative Commons Attribution Share Alike 3.0 Unported license.

 
A: Harvey seems to have found a whole lot of wiggle room in Saying 22.
 
J: I must admit that Harvey's "revelation" of the Sacred Androgyne makes me feel sick to my stomach.
 
A: Why?
 
J: Because it denies the very reality of male and female. It denies the reality that God the Father is male and God the Mother is female. It denies the reality that everything in Creation is built on the cherished differences between male and female. Being male isn't better than being female. And being female isn't better than being male. But they're not the same. Neither are they yin-and-yang. They're not two halves of the same coin. They're not mirror images of each other. They're not a fusion -- they're not a Oneness -- like a bowl of pure water. God the Mother and God the Father are like a bowl of minestrone soup. You can see all the big chunks of differentness floating around in there, and that's okay, because that's what gives the mixture its taste, its wonder, its passion.
 
God the Mother and God the Father aren't the same substance with opposite polarities. No way. They have individual temperaments and unique characteristics. In some ways, they're quite alike. In other ways, they're quite different from each other. Just as you'd expect in two fully functioning, mature beings. That's why it's a relationship. They work things out together so both of them are happy at the same time. It's not that hard to imagine, really. They have a sacred marriage, a marriage in which they constantly strive to lift each other up, support each other, forge common goals together, build things together, and most importantly, raise a family together. They look out for each other. They laugh together. They're intimately bound to each other in all ways. But they're still a bowl of minestrone soup. With nary a Sacred Androgyne in sight.
 
A: Okay. So if you weren't talking about "oneness" or "alchemical fusion" or the "Sacred Androgyne" in Saying 22, what were you talking about?
 
J: Well, I was talking about the mystery and wonder that can be found in a simple seed. I was talking -- as I often was -- about how to understand our relationship with God by simply looking at and listening to God's ongoing voice in the world of nature.
 
A: Oh. Are we talking about tree-hugging?
 
J: You could put it that way.
 
A: David Suzuki would love you for saying that.
 
J: I was a nature mystic, to be sure. Endogenous mystics are nature mystics. They see the image of God -- and more importantly the stories of God -- in God's own language, which is the world of Creation. The world outside the city gates has so much to say about balance and time and beginnings and endings! The world outside the city gates is a library. It's literally a library that teaches souls about cycles and physics and interconnectedness and chemistry and complexity and order and chaos all wrapped up together in a tapestry of Divine Love.
 
A: What you're saying seems like a pretty modern, liberal sort of understanding. Were you able to articulate it this way 2,000 years ago?
 
J: Not to be unkind to modern, liberal thinkers, but when was the last time a philosopher of science sat down with a mustard seed and reflected on the intrinsic meaning of it? When was the last time you heard what a humble fresh bean can teach you about the spiritual journey of all human beings?
 
A: I see your point. People in our society don't usually take the time to sit down and "smell the roses."
 
J: Geneticists and biologists and related researchers can print out all their research on the genome of a kidney bean, and can even modify this genetic code in a lab, but to a mystic the kidney bean holds more than pure science.
 
A: So we've switched from mustard seeds to kidney beans as a metaphor?
 
J: Kidney beans are bigger and easier to see without magnifying lenses, and a lot of people have begun their scientific inquiries by growing beans in a primary school classroom. So yes -- let's switch to beans.
 
A: I remember being fascinated by fresh beans and peas when I was young. If you split the bean with your thumbnail, and you didn't damage it too much when you split it, you could see the tiny little stem and leaf inside at one end, just waiting to sprout. If you planted a whole, unsplit bean in a small glass-walled container, you could watch the whole process of growth -- the bean splitting open on its own, roots starting to grow from one end, the stem and leaf popping up, the two halves of the bean gradually shrinking as their nutrients were converted into stem and root growth. Somehow the bean knew what to do. It just kept growing out of the simplest things -- dirt, sunlight, water.
 
J: The bean is a lot like the human brain. If you plant it whole in fertile ground and provide the right nutrients, it grows into a thing of wholeness and balance and wonder and mystery. On the other hand, if you try to split it open, or extract the tiny stem hidden inside, or plant it on rocks instead of good soil, or fail to give it sunshine and water, it won't thrive. It may not even root at all. You can't force the bean to grow where it isn't designed to grow. You can't force it to grow once you've forcibly split it open. You can't force it to grow on barren rock. The bean has to be whole when you plant it. The outside skin has to be intact. The different parts inside the skin have to be intact. The bean has different parts, but it needs all those different parts in order to be whole -- in order to create something new. The bean isn't a single substance. But it is holistic. It's a self-contained mini-marvel that teaches through example about cycles and physics and interconnectedness and chemistry and complexity and order and chaos. It appears simple, but in fact it's remarkably complex. Creation is like that -- it appears simple, but in fact it's remarkably complex.
 
A: Why, then, were you talking about "male and female" in Saying 22? Why did you seem to be talking about merging or fusion of male and female into an androgynous state? Or a Platonic state of mystical union?
 
J: It goes to the question of context. I was talking to people who, as a natural part of their intellectual framework, were always trying to put dualistic labels on everything in Creation. Everyday items were assigned labels of "good or evil," "pure or impure," "male or female," "living or dead." It had got to the point where a regular person might say, "I won't use that cooking pan because it has female energy, and female energy isn't pure."
 
A: I'm not sure that kind of paranoid, dualistic, magical thinking has really died out, to be honest.
 
J: There are certainly peoples and cultures who still embrace this kind of magical thinking. You get all kinds of destructive either-or belief systems. You get people saying that right-handed people and right-handed objects are favoured by God, whereas left-handed people are cursed. It's crazy talk. It's not balanced. It's not holistic. It's not trusting of God's goodness.
 
A: And you were left-handed.
 
J: Yep. My mother tried to beat it out of me, but I was a leftie till the day I died. When I was a child, I was taught to be ashamed of my left-handedness. Eventually I came to understand that I was who I was. The hand I used as an adult to hold my writing stylus was the same hand I'd been born with -- my left hand. But on my journey of healing, redemption, and forgiveness, I came to view my hand quite differently than I had in my youth. Was it a "new hand"? No. Was it a new perception of my hand. Yes. Absolutely yes.
 
A: You stopped putting judgmental labels on your eyes and your hands and your feet and your understanding of what it means to be made in the image of God.
 
J: One of the first steps in knowing what it feels like to walk in the Kingdom of the Heavens is to consider yourself "a whole bean."
 
A: Aren't there kidney beans in minestrone soup? How did we get back to the minestrone soup metaphor?
 
J: A little mustard seed in the soup pan never hurts either.
 

JR44: Mark's Themes of Understanding and Strength

This is a research paper I wrote in 2009 for a course on New Testament exegesis. It explains in detail some of the major themes found in the Gospel of Mark. 

The paper pasted here is exactly as I wrote it, including the endnotes, where I confess I don't yet understand how the word "artos" (leavened bread, loaf) is being used by Mark. Since then (with Jesus' help), I've figured it out.

“Now the disciples had forgotten to bring any bread; and they had only one loaf with them in the boat. And he cautioned them, saying, ‘Watch out — beware of the yeast of the Pharisees and the yeast of Herod.’ They said to one another, ‘It is because we have no bread.’ And becoming aware of it, Jesus said to them, ‘Why are you talking about having no bread? Do you still not perceive or understand? Are your hearts hardened? Do you have eyes, and fail to see? Do you have ears, and fail to hear? And do you not remember? When I broke the five loaves for the five thousand, how many baskets full of broken pieces did you collect?’ They said to him, ‘Twelve.’ And the seven for the four thousand, how many baskets full of broken pieces did you collect?’ And they said to him, ‘Seven.’ Then he said to them, ‘Do you not yet understand?'” (Mark 8:14-21). Photo credit JAT 2021.

 

 
RADICAL MESSIAH AND THE SHEMA: MARK’S THEMES OF
UNDERSTANDING AND STRENGTH

Graham Stanton, in his discussion about the Gospel of Mark, refers to "Mark’s genius as a story-teller" (41), and says, "perhaps Mark should be seen not so much as a block of toffee (form criticism) or as a string of pearls (redaction criticism), but as a piece of rope with interwoven strands" (41). Later in the chapter, he asks these questions: "Why was this gospel written? Many scholars have proposed quite specific historical or theological settings. But they are usually able to make reasonable sense of only one or two of the many interrelated strands which the evangelist develops" (57-58). One strand which I feel has been overlooked is Mark’s overt addition to the Shema (Deut. 6:4-9) in Chapter12:29 of the Gospel. So obvious would this change have been to a Jewish Christian audience in the early to mid-60's CE that the question of Mark’s purpose must be raised. What was he signalling to his audience with this change? Why did he dare add to a well-known prayer that, according to the Jewish Study Bible, was being formally recited late in the Second Temple period (379)? It is the thesis of this paper that Mark did not accidentally alter the Shema through lack of knowledge, and that he did not accidentally link the Shema to the commandment in Leviticus 19:18 to love one’s neighbour as oneself (12:31). There was a purpose to his addition of the phrase "and with all your mind (διανοίας)" to the existing formulation of "you shall love the LORD your God with all your heart (καρδίας) and with all your soul (ψυχnς) and with all your might (iσχύος)." This supposition is supported by Mark’s repetition of the Shema in 12:32-33, altered yet again, this time without genitive cases, and with a changed emphasis to understanding (συνέσεως). Here the sympathetic – and sensible (νουνεχwς) – scribe is allowed by Mark to voice the two most important commandments: "You are right, Teacher; you have truly said that ‘he is one, and besides him there is no other; and ‘to love him with all the heart, and with all the understanding, with all the strength,’ and ‘to love one’s neighbor as oneself,’ – this is much more important than all whole burnt offerings and sacrifices." The penny then drops for readers as Jesus says to the scribe, "You are not far from the kingdom of God" (present tense verb, 12:34). Mark has just presented a major clue to unravelling some of the strands of his gospel.

The altered Shema is part of a teaching chreia (12:28-34) that can be seen, it is argued here, as an early creedal statement, the climax and summary of Jesus’ teachings about what it means to be "not far from the kingdom of God" (12:34). It is difficult to understand Jesus’ teachings about the kingdom of God, says Mark in different ways throughout the Gospel. Even Jesus’ closest friends, the disciples, do not understand (4:10-13). The whole thing can be boiled down to two commandments (12:28-31), which sound easy at first, but are much more difficult to practice than the old system of "burnt offerings and sacrifices," a system which requires Jews to show unswerving loyalty. (Loyalty, not private emotion, is the meaning of the verb aheb, "love," as it applies to the Shema, according to the Jewish Study Bible (380) and Sakenfeld (376)). A big part of Jesus’ version of faith, according to Mark, is the requirement that disciples use their minds. Fideism is not acceptable. God’s faithful must question the specific ways in which religious teachings are being misused (e.g. 2:23-28; 3:1-6; 7:1-23; 12:38-40; 12:41-44), just as in the past Jews once questioned harmful religious and societal conventions (e.g. Exod. 20:2-6; 21:1 - 22:16; 22:20-12). (Mark thus shows Jesus to be following the "wilderness spirit" of the Sinai Covenant in the Torah (cf. Mark 1:3,4,12), as opposed to the Temple and hierarchy-based Zion Covenant presented in the Psalms and the Deuteronomistic History.[1]) God’s faithful must be willing to not only open their hearts and souls to God’s kingdom, but also their minds (διάνοια) – their innate capacity to think and understand in moral ways (Harder 125). Moral thinking and moral decision-making is a higher form of loving God than being obedient and loyal to the laws of the Zion Covenant.

This kind of "thinking faith," directed towards loving God (e.g. 1:35-39; 15:25-32), loving others (e.g. 9:33-37; 10:41-45), and loving themselves (e.g. 12:31)[2], will put them in opposition to others – family (e.g. 3:21; 3:31-35; 10:28-31), friends (e.g. 6:1-3; 14:66-72), Pharisees (e.g. 3:6, 12:13-17), scribes and chief priests (e.g. 2:6-9, 3:16-17; 11:18), and Gentiles (e.g. 5:14-17; 15:16-20) – who choose to follow honour-oriented traditions. Understanding is not an instantaneous gift from God, however (clearly evidenced in 8:14-21)[3]. Nor is understanding a gift conferred only on the disciples closest to Jesus (e.g. 5:33-34; 9:33-37; 10:17-22; 12:34; 14:6-9). Understanding is a long, difficult process which disciples must willingly participate in (e.g. 4:13; 4:33-34; 10:23-27; 13:9-13). It requires strength, a theme which Mark repeatedly intertwines with the requirement for understanding, as shall be shown. God’s faithful must commit their strength (iσχύς) to a process spread out over time and geography (hence Jesus’ travels back and forth across Galilee and adjacent territories) and also over boundaries of class and honour (hence Jesus’ willingness to heal and teach people from disadvantaged groups). It is a process open to all people, regardless of race, religion, gender, state of mental and/or physical health, wealth, or status. But it is a difficult process.

Mark – for all that he is trying to describe a "thinking faith" – seems very wary of directly invoking Hellenistic or Judeo-Hellenistic notions of philosophy, rational thought, or "wisdom" (σοφία). Σοφία is used 51 times in the New Testament, but only once in Mark (on the lips of the surprised synagogue attendees in 6:2). The adjective σοφός appears 22 times in the New Testament, but not once in Mark. Whatever claim Mark is making, it is not a claim for σοφία (wisdom, insight, intelligence, knowledge, divine knowledge). He prefers the cognates of the more "practical" verbs συνίημι (understand, comprehend, perceive, have insight into) and διαλογίζομαι (discuss, argue, consider, reason, wonder about, question). It is notable that, although he uses the adverb νουνεχwς once, and the verb νοέω a few times, he does not use the Greek word νοuς, a noun meaning perception, understanding, thoughts, or reason. Νοuς is attested since Linear B; it was used by Plato to mean "the highest of the three parts of the soul" (Harder 122), and still later used in the post-canonical, apocryphal era of Jewish literature in a sense associated with the will or deliberation (Harder 125). It is difficult to tell whether Mark avoids using νοuς because in Hebrew there is no direct equivalent for it, and the Septuagint rarely uses it (Harder 124) (compare to Paul, who uses it in Romans and 1 Corinthians); or whether Mark avoids using it because he has a general tendency to not include abstract "wisdom words" such as "peace," "hope," and "righteousness" words in his writing[4].

It is interesting to ponder Mark’s non-use of the "wisdom words" frequently attested in books of the Old Testament, as well as in the other Gospels, Acts, and the accepted letters of Paul. Certainly it can be argued that these words are malleable enough to serve any purpose ("Peace in our time!"). Perhaps, by not making abundant use of "wisdom words," Mark hopes to make his readers think, to apply their minds in new ways to the difficult question of what it means to be close to the kingdom of God. (Mark himself lends this impression in 13:14, where he suddenly interjects with "let the reader understand (νοείτω).") "Out with the poetry, in with the praxis," seems to be his approach. He therefore intentionally avoids "telling us" at length what Jesus said, and insists on "showing us" what Jesus did – what Jesus’ actions and choices were, where he went, who he talked to, who he aided, and what he did despite his friends’ lack of courage, faith, and love. Mark’s Radical Messiah is a man of relatively few words who teaches by example, and is not interested in raising his own status. (Even the scribe in 12:28-34 is accorded great dignity by Jesus – and also by Mark.) Therefore, for Mark, the examples are what matter most. (By contrast, Matthew’s Jesus seems very fond of the sound of his own voice, and John’s Jesus has a case of the "I ams.")

It is clear from a review of word usage articles that, by the first century CE, there was a blurring between Jewish and Hellenistic concepts of heart, mind, and soul, and this may explain why Mark felt he needed to add to the traditional phrasing of the Shema. In the Septuagint translation of the Shema, for instance, leb is rendered as καρδία; yet Holloday’s Hebrew and Aramaic Lexicon shows 11 different meanings for leb: the physical heart organ; the seat of vitality; the seat of one’s feelings and impulses; mind, character, disposition, inclination, loyalty, concern; determination, courage, high morale; intention, purpose; mind, attention, consideration, understanding; the self; conscience; metaphorically the "interior" or "middle"; and finally the organizing power of living beings (nefesh – the word which is translated as ψυχή in the Septuagint’s version of the Shema ) (171-172). Harder points out that Septuagint translators rendered the Hebrew leb or lebab as νοuς only six times, as διάνοια 38 times, and as καρδία in most other instances (124). Sorg reports that the Septuagint occasionally translates leb as ψυχή (181). Meanwhile, ψυχή itself (used 101 times in the New Testament) encompasses a broad range of meanings: the whole person or creature; a person’s actual, physical life; the seat of the emotions; the inner life or personality of a person; the part of the person that lives on after death (Harder 682-686; Carrigan). Καρδία can be used literally to mean the physical heart, or it can be used metaphorically. In the New Testament, it is used in 148 passages with a variety of meanings: the seat of intellectual and spiritual life; the inner person or personality/ego; the seat of doubt and hardness; the mind or reason; will, desire, intention (Sorg 182-183). To state, as Cameron does, that "since Hebrew psychology lacked precise terminology, there is some overlapping in the use of nepesh, leb/lebab, and ruah" is something of an understatement. Perhaps Mark, aware of the confusion amongst Jews and Jewish Christians about the meanings of leb and καρδία, nefesh and ψυχή, decides to make certain that no one can dispute the necessity of "mind" and "understanding" (as distinct from Hellenistic wisdom!) by his explicitly including both διανοίας and συνέσεως in the crucial teaching chreia of 12:28-34.

Mark wants to talk about the Radical Messiah’s "thinking faith," but at the same time he demonstrates a prudent fear of both Jewish and Roman authorities. He does not wish to be arrested for apostasy or political treason (he is writing during a time of heightened political-religious conflict, both within Judaism itself, and between Judaism and the Roman Empire). Therefore, while he shies away from "wisdom words," he makes ample use of allegory. It is difficult, for instance, to see Mark’s repeated use of boat crossings on the "Sea" of Galilee as anything but a metaphor. It is a lake, after all, and not a very big one, at that – a fact that early Jewish Christian readers in the region would have known. Pheme Perkins points out that the Q Source has no sayings about fishing or grapes, and no stories about storms on the Sea of Galilee (94-95). Mark, however, introduces the Sea of Galilee, fishermen, and boats in his first chapter (1:16, 1:16-20, and 1:19-20 respectively). He is hinting at something. What does a boat do? we then must ask. A boat helps us cross the waters. What have bodies of water traditionally represented in Jewish thought? The forces of chaos that are overcome by the sovereign powers of God (Gen. 1:2 - 2:3). And how does one overcome the forces of chaos? In part, by using one’s strength – at which point it is very hard to overlook the similarity in sound between the word for "fish" (iχθύς) and the word for "strength" (iσχύς). (We know that Paul uses plays on words, so it is not unreasonable to conclude that Mark does the same.) Once this is observed, the two miraculous feedings of the crowd with bread and fish (6:34-44 and 8:1-9) become emblematic of the "strength" with which Jesus feeds the people [5,6] – the same strength that is spoken of in a positive light twice in 12:28-34, in a negative light in 14:37, in a perplexing light in 3:27 and 5:4, and in a contextual way in 15:46, where Joseph of Arimathea has the strength to roll a "very large rock" across the tomb by himself.

In the important verses of 8:14-21, Mark draws an overt link between the allegorical feedings – with their relationship to the theme of strength – and the issue of understanding. Here, while Jesus and the disciples are sitting yet again in their boat (8:14 – the final reference to boats in the Gospel of Mark), Jesus castigates the disciples harshly, in several different ways, because they do not yet understand (νοεiτε) or realize (συνίετε). This pericope is filled with Greek verbs related to the thinking faculties of people (thinking faculties which include input from the senses): the disciples "forgot" the bread (8:14); Jesus cautions them to "see" the yeast of the Pharisees and of Herod (8:15); the disciples "reasoned" among themselves (8:16); Jesus "knows" their attempt at reasoning and asks them why they are still "reasoning" that way instead of "understanding" and "realizing" (8:17); have their "hearts" been hardened? Jesus asks (8:17); do they have "eyes" that don’t see, and "ears" that don’t hear? (8:18); do they not "remember"? (8:18); do they not yet understand? (8:21). Verses 14-21 of Chapter 8 can be seen to conclude and epitomize the first half of Mark’s Gospel, as some scholars have suggested (Perkins 131); however, reading the Gospel in this way does, as Perkins points out, present "as much of a challenge to the audience as the ending of the Gospel does" (131) because of its critical depiction of the disciples. The disciples, both male and female, lack understanding and strength. They have not applied "all their mind" and "all their strength" to loving God or their teacher, Jesus, and therefore – unlike the scribe of 12:28-34 and perhaps unlike Joseph of Arimathea – they have not been able to draw near to the kingdom of God. It is not enough to be loyal, according to Mark. It is not enough to be close to the Rabbi. The disciples will not be able to understand what the kingdom of God is like until they give themselves heart, soul, mind, and strength to the praxis of loving God and loving other people, the sort of praxis which Jesus models on every page of this complex gospel.

ENDNOTES

1. The two covenant thesis in the Jewish Bible is convincingly argued by W.M.

2. Not all scholars agree that 12:29 commands people to love themselves (Klassen 389).

3. Mark does not tell us how Jesus acquired his understanding. We know only that God has adopted Jesus as his son (1:11 and 9:7), and is well pleased with him.

4. In marked contrast to other New Testament authors such as Matthew, Luke in Luke/Acts, and Paul, Mark uses the words "peace" (only 3 times), "hope" (zero times), "love" (X 4), "joy" (X 1), "freedom" (X 0), "glory" (X 3), "just/righteous" (X 3) or "holy" (X 7). (Nelson's Concordance)

5. I have not yet figured out how "artos" is being used in these passages.

6. In this context, the numerological references in the two miraculous feedings (e.g. 5,000 people, 12 baskets of leftovers, 7 loaves) can be read as being indicators to treat these passages allegorically (unlike the healing miracles, which Mark treats in a factual way).


WORKS CONSULTED

Berlin, Adele and Marc Zvi Brettler, Eds. The Jewish Study Bible: Jewish Publication Society TANAKH Translation. Oxford: Oxford UP, 2004.

Cameron, W.J. "Soul." New Bible Dictionary. 2nd Ed. Ed. J.D. Douglas. Leicester and Wheaton IL: Inter-varsity and Tyndale House, 1982. 1135.

Carrigan, Henry L. "Soul." Eerdmans Dictionary of the Bible. Ed. David Noel Freedman. Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmans, 2000. 1245.

Coogan. Michael D., Ed. The New Oxford Annotated Bible: New Revised Standard Version with the Apocrypha, College Edition. 3rd Ed. Oxford: Oxford UP, 2001.

Ellison, John W., Ed. Nelson’s Complete Concordance of the Revised Standard Version Bible. New York: Nelson & Sons, 1957.

Harder, Georg. "νοuς." The New International Dictionary of New Testament Theology. Vol. 3. Rev. Ed. Ed. Colin Brown. Grand Rapids, MI: Zondervan, 1986. 122-130.

Harder, Georg. "ψυχή." The New International Dictionary of New Testament Theology. Vol. 3. Rev. Ed. Ed. Colin Brown. Grand Rapids, MI: Zondervan, 1986. 676-689.

Goetzmann, Jurgen. "σύνεσις." The New International Dictionary of New Testament Theology. Vol. 3. Rev. Ed. Ed. Colin Brown. Grand Rapids, MI: Zondervan, 1986. 130-134.

Holloday, William L., Ed. A Concise Hebrew and Aramaic Lexicon of the Old Testament. Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmans, 1988.

Klassen, William. "Love in the New Testament and Early Jewish Literature." The Anchor Bible Dictionary. Vol. 4. Ed. David Noel Freedman. New York: Doubleday, 1992. 381-396.

Morrison, Clinton. An Analytical Concordance to the Revised Standard Version of the New Testament. Philadelphia: Westminster Press, 1979.

Perkins, Pheme. Introduction to the Synoptic Gospels. Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmans, 2007.

Sakenfeld, Katharine Door Sakenfeld. "Love in the Old Testament." The Anchor Bible Dictionary. Vol. 4. Ed. David Noel Freedman. New York: Doubleday, 1992. 375-381.

Schattenmann, Hans-Georg. "Iσχύς." The New International Dictionary of New Testament Theology. Vol. 3. Rev. Ed. Ed. Colin Brown. Grand Rapids, MI: Zondervan, 1986. 712-716.

Sorg, Theo. "καρδία." The New International Dictionary of New Testament Theology. Vol. 2. Ed. Colin Brown. Grand Rapids, MI: Zondervan, 1986. 180-184.

Stanton, Graham N. The Gospels and Jesus. Oxford: Oxford UP, 1989.

JR41: City on the Hill: Saying 32 in Thomas

A: Okay. Back to some exegesis from the Gospel of Thomas. This morning my copy of Thomas* opened itself up to Saying 32: "Jesus said: A city built and fortified atop a tall hill cannot be taken, nor can it be hidden." 

Stevan Davies's notes on this saying, as usual, miss the point. Davies says, "This saying urges strength in defense while at the same time encouraging openness. You should not try to protect yourself by hiding your light, but at the same time you should be aware that attacks are likely. Ultimately you will be safe, above real danger, even if you expose yourself and your light to the world (pages 35-36)." 

Granted, there's not much context to go on here. This saying could be interpreted in a number of different ways. But I'm curious about your thoughts here. 

Model of the Acropolis of Athens, Royal Ontario Museum. Photo credit JAT 2017.

J: I'm wondering in what way Davies can argue that a person who shows their light is "above real danger." This is a reckless thing to say in view of the way reformers are treated in many parts of the world. Reformers need to know that attacks are likely, as you and I have discussed before. Reformers don't have a special magical cloak that's guaranteed to protect them from all harm.  

A: Obviously you didn't have such a magical cloak.  

J: No. And I didn't promise my followers one, either. It's a fallacy to suppose that a person of faith will be protected from all suffering and all harm. Shit happens. Shit happens to everyone. The question isn't how to be "above real danger." The question is how to recognize real danger and how to handle it when it arises. Davies's interpretation of saying 32 is pretty much the opposite of what I was trying to say.  

A: Davies is implying in his notes that the fortified city on the hill is a metaphor for a person who has uncovered the secret of the Kingdom. He's implying that knowledge of the Kingdom lifts a person above the fray. It kind of reminds me of the "shining city on the hill."  

J: Which tells you right off the bat it isn't something I would have said.  

A: You're not big on the idea of Temples on Sacred Mounts. 

J: No. I used metaphors from nature and peasant life to explain what the Kingdom feels like. By contrast, I used metaphors from the sphere of urban construction to explain what it feels like to be estranged from the Kingdom. Saying 32 is an attack on the people who choose to be like a fortified city on the hill. They choose to place themselves "above" other people. They choose to build walls around their hearts. Sure, everyone can see them up there, everyone can see their status. But they're walled off from their feelings, from their compassion. They're successful. They're proud of their walls. They love to be noticed for their accomplishments. But they have no heart. And they have no relationship with God. They've made themselves invulnerable to pain. And this means they've made themselves invulnerable to love. They're afraid of intense emotions, afraid of intense feelings like joy and grief and humbleness. They hide behind their walls and bemoan the cruel God who allows suffering. Meanwhile, they do nothing courageous themselves. They refuse to come out from behind their walls and engage in the task of coping in mature ways with the love and pain of living. They feel safe where they are, and they'd much rather blame God or other people for the emptiness they themselves feel inside. 

Surprising as it may seem, inner emptiness seems like the better choice -- the practical choice -- for the majority of human beings. For those who've endured years of abuse and trauma, it's often the only viable choice. They can't make it through the day if they have to think about the pain they've endured. So they try to stop thinking about it. 

 A: Yet the pain always expresses itself somehow. 

J: Yes. You can't escape the pain. When you repress it, it finds a way to reveal itself anyway. Playwrights and psychotherapists make their living from expounding this truth. The pain must be confronted and transmuted -- healed -- into something deeper and more positive. Otherwise it will ruin your life and probably the lives of the people you're closest to.  

A: This is what Viktor Frankl taught. The idea that you have to find purpose and meaning and the means to go forward despite the most traumatic experiences imaginable.  

J: A process that people need help with. If you don't have a mentor to help you struggle through the emotional complexities of loss and suffering and eventual transformation, you'll probably end up -- like so many people -- building gigantic walls around your heart. But there's a cost for doing this. The cost is your ability to love. 

A: You mean the person building the walls is no longer able to love.  

J: Right. They can't love themselves. They can't love their neighbour. They can't love their God. They can still function at a logical level, a practical level, but they wake up each morning and go to bed each night having no clear idea who they are or why they're here or why they feel so empty and miserable. Life feels like a chore to them. A duty. A punishment they must endure. They feel very sorry for themselves.  

A: I know a number of Christians who fit this bill. 

J: The real tragedy is that once a person has finished building his or her fortified city on the hilltop, he or she "cannot be taken" -- cannot let love in through the walls of logic and status. No amount of kindness or empathy or forgiveness or patience will breach the walls of intentional dissociation in another human being. You can't "fix" such a person from the outside. If they don't want to come out from behind their walls, you can't make them do it, no matter how hard you try.  

A: A lesson it took me years to understand.  

J: The person who is like the city "built and fortified atop a tall hill" is NOT "ultimately . . . safe, above real danger." Such a person IS the danger. She's a danger to herself, her neighbours, and her community.  

A: Why?  

J: Because she thinks she's in her right mind, in full control of all her thoughts and feelings and actions, but she's not. She's built a city of logic stone by stone, choice by choice, and she's happy with it. She likes being dissociated from her soul's own feelings. She chooses to live this way. But big chunks of her biological brain are miswired as a long term result of her intentional choices. She can't make balanced choices anymore. She can't because she's worked very hard not to make balanced choices. She believes she has all the tools she needs in case of emergency or real danger. But she doesn't have the brain tools she'll actually need in an unpredicted crisis. So she'll panic. She'll freeze. She'll think only of herself. Because that's what she's trained her brain to do.  

A: You're saying it doesn't have to be this way.  

J: I'm saying Darwin was dead wrong about survival of the fittest. The stupidest human beings on the planet are the ones who've made themselves into isolated cities on hilltops. And when I say "stupid" I don't mean temporarily foolish or poorly educated. I mean less functional and less able to grasp complex issues and act on them with common sense, compassion, and integrity. Including many individuals with PhDs. These are the people you don't want on your team when a genuine crisis hits. They'll stab you in the back without blinking when the going gets tough.  

A: Says the man whose own family and friends turned him over to the Romans when he made the going too tough . . .  

J: Damn straight.  

 

*For readers who haven't been following our posts about the Gospel of Thomas, I'm using a book translated and annoted by Stevan Davies. (Stevan Davies, The Gospel of Thomas (Boston & London: Shambhala, 2004.))

JR35: Father of Lights, Mother of Breath

A: Saying 56 of the Gospel of Thomas is somewhat puzzling. Stevan Davies translates it as "Jesus said: Whoever has known the world has found a corpse; whoever has found that corpse, the world is not worthy of him." Davies suggests that this saying relates to the two Creation stories in Genesis. He says, "it seems that the animating principle of the world is the Kingdom within it that remains undiscovered by most people. They do not realize that for them the world is a corpse; when they discover that it is, they simultaneously discover the Kingdom that can animate it" (page 61). Davies's interpretation doesn't feel right to me. What were you trying to get at here?

“Every generous act of giving, with every perfect gift, is from above, coming down from the Father of lights, with whom there is no variation or shadow due to change. In fulfillment of his own purpose he gave us birth by the Word of Truth, so that we would become a kind of first fruits of his creatures” (James 1:17-18). Photo credit JAT 2014.

 
J: Davies's thesis that the Kingdom is an animating principle within a person and within the world outside each person is central to his interpretations of the Thomasine sayings. He's entitled to his own theories, but I don't have to agree with them.

A: So you don't agree.

J: No. Davies's interpretation -- for all that he tries to cast it in the light of Wisdom teachings instead of Gnostic teachings -- is still Gnostic. In other words, it's an occult interpretation. Occult interpretations of the world rely heavily on dualistic thinking -- everything is reduced to pairs of opposites such as "good versus evil" or "light versus darkness."

A: "Alive versus dead."

J: Yes. As soon as a person starts talking about "dead things" being animated -- literally, being brought to life -- by outside forces, then you're moving in the direction of dualistic, occult thought. What scholars call Christian Gnosticisms are really just a form of immaturity. Emotional and intellectual immaturity. Nothing in Creation can be reduced to the kind of simplistic "either-or" religious formula that's being offered in Davies's interpretation. Life just isn't like that.

A: So you don't agree that "alive versus dead" is a legitimate pair, a legitimate starting point for discussion about the nature of life?

J: You have to understand the religious context in which I lived. People had some very strange ideas about birth, life, illness, and death -- everyone did, regardless of their religion. Jews were no different. We had tons of restrictions and limitations and taboos around natural life processes. Especially around death. Taboos around some other things had loosened up when Jewish lands fell under the sway of Hellenistic thought and then Roman thought. But the taboos around death hadn't diminished. People were very frightened of dead bodies. Only certain people were allowed to touch them. No one could be buried inside the city walls. The list went on and on.

A: That doesn't sound much different from today.

J: One of religion's most important jobs is to help people deal in mature and compassionate ways with death. Few religions manage to accomplish this task with any grace or decorum. One of the few modern religions that brings death into the community in a living, natural way is Rabbinic Judaism. Christianity could learn a thing or two from Judaism on this score. However, the approach to death seen in today's synagogue was not the approach to death I grew up with. Rabbinic Judaism didn't exist in the first half of the 1st century CE. Judaism was a mess. We had so many competing philosophies and so many competing rituals that regular people were hopelessly confused.

A: Dare I say that you added to that confusion?

J: You can say that. It's true. But Judaism had some good things going for it. Even though I had studied the works of Hellenistic philosophers, looking for nuggets of spiritual wisdom, I came back in the end to the best that Judaism had to offer. In my view, the best ideas of Judaism topped everything the other religions were offering.

A: Can you give some examples?

J: The most obvious one is the image of God in the Hebrew texts. There was the strange idea in Judaism -- uncommon, though not unprecedented in the history of religion -- that there was really just one God, not a whole pantheon of gods. Of course, I didn't agree with the Platonic idea that God was a single undifferentiated "He." This idea had slowly made its way into Jewish thought, and by the 1st century CE it was widely accepted by many Jews. But not all Jews saw God as 100% male. A thinking person couldn't make sense of the natural world if it was seen solely as a "male domain." There had to be a feminine principle in there somewhere -- a feminine principle that was equal to the male principle and in full partnership with the male principle. My personal experiences as a mystic clinched that theory beyond all doubt. Once I had seen and felt the reality of God the Mother and God the Father in my own heart, I had no doubt about who God really is. God is Father and Mother together -- Abba and Ruah. Father of Lights, Mother of Breath. That's what I called them.

A: You refer to the Father of Lights in the Letter of James (James 1:17-18). You also say there that the Father of Lights gave birth to us "by the word of truth." What did you mean by this?

J: "The word of truth" -- logo aletheias in the Greek, which is not the same as Sophia (Wisdom) -- is a name I sometimes used for God the Mother. I was trying to make it clear that God the Father doesn't give birth to us by himself. It isn't a weird form of parthenogenesis (virgin birth). It's the most natural form of creation imaginable.

A: Two partners coming together in light and in truth and fulfilling our creation because they want to.

J: This image of God was considered heretical to both pious Jews and pious Gentiles. There were countless images of the Divine in many different religions. The only image of the Divine that wasn't being preached was the one I was preaching -- the God Who Is Two. One God, many children. One God, many souls. One God, many Kingdoms. This image of God as God really is did have -- and still has -- the power to free so many people from the suffering caused by prejudice and hierarchy and male dominance! This image has the power to open up the gates of meaningful relationship with God. Everything you see in the world around you makes so much more sense when you allow yourself to make room for the "crazy, heretical notion" that God is Two -- not One, and not Three. All the most meaningful experiences of life as a human -- the experiences of love, of redemption, of healing, of trust -- they all rely on relationship. On two people -- at a minimum -- coming together in mutual aid and comfort. As the song says, "one is the loneliest number". On the other hand, two is the number of change, growth, creation, balance, and divine love. The world of science and nature constantly reinforces this one simple message: it's all about Two, not One.

A: It seems very strange to me that when an individual adamantly holds to the idea that God is One, his or her thinking becomes less holistic and more dualistic -- more based on black-and-white pairs of opposites. When pious religious followers commit themselves wholly to the idea that God is One, it's like a cartoon thought bubble pops up and fills itself up with all sorts of nasty, judgmental words. Words so nasty they could singe the hair off your head. You wouldn't think the idea of God-as-One could lead to so much hatred and prejudice and racial discrimination. But we have plenty of history to prove it. I've been watching the Kennedy mini-series on the History Channel, and of course they examine the racial rioting in the U.S. South in the early 1960's. I simply can't understand or relate to that kind of vicious hatred.

J: Well, we had plenty of that kind of vicious hatred in my time. Jews against other Jews. Rich against poor. Chosen people against damned people. Blah, blah, blah. No end to the bigotry. No end to the narcissism.

A: I see you're equating bigotry with narcissism.

J: Sure. Bigotry can only grow in a garden that's growing the weeds of narcissism and bullying. Narcissism is a psychologically dysfunctional state where an individual's brain becomes addictively dependent on the myth that he or she is "special," "better than others," and entitled to better treatment than other people. Like any addict, the status addict has to receive regular fixes. To maintain a stance of bigotry towards another person on the basis of skin colour is simply proof of addiction -- addiction to status. The choice to hate somebody on the basis of race or skin colour has the same biological effect on the brain as an addiction to cocaine. Bigotry is a form of "using." It has no place in the life of a person of faith.

A: Bigotry is another form of dualistic thinking -- "us versus them."

J: It's also a clear indication of immaturity in an individual. A mature individual is able to process ambiguity, change, complexity, and "shades of grey." A mature individual is capable -- even as a frail human being -- of perceiving and appreciating the vast scope of Creation and the awe-inspiring, humbling interconnections that exist among all forms of life, both here and elsewhere in Creation. A mature individual doesn't ask "what God can do for you," but instead asks "what you can do for God."

A: That statement would be considered blasphemous by the "piety and pity" crew that insists we're all full of sin and unworthy before God.

J: Well, I rejected the "piety and pity" parade, as you can tell from everything I've been trying to say on this site.

A: I'll just call you the "trust and twofulness" guy instead.

JR31: Jesus, the Man Who Was a Mystic

A: Sayings 18a and 18b in the Gospel of Thomas have some interesting things to say about our relationship to time -- to beginnings and endings. Stevan Davies's translation says this: "The disciples asked Jesus: Tell us about our end. What will it be? Jesus replied: Have you found the Beginning so that you now seek the end? The place of the Beginning will be the place of the end [18a]. Blessed is anyone who will stand up in the Beginning and thereby know the end and never die [18b]." Your makarisms -- your beatitudes -- don't sound much like the makarisms from the Jewish Wisdom thinkers who wrote books like Proverbs and Sirach and Wisdom of Solomon. Why is that?

J (shrugging): I was a mystic, not a Wisdom teacher. I believed in logic, but I believed more in Divine Love. My understanding of happiness was founded in my personal mystical experience. When people asked me how I could be so happy despite all the personal suffering I'd experienced in my life, I told them. They didn't believe me, but I kept telling them anyway.

An endogenous mystic doesn't live in isolation from life. You can learn a lot about God by going outside with other people and breathing in the beauty of your beginnings. Bourton on the Water, UK. Photo credit JAT 2024.

 

A: People today don't think of you as a mystic. They may think of you as a rabbi or as a wandering Cynic philosopher or as a political revolutionary or even as a shaman-like fellow wandering around Palestine in a severe dissociative state.* But none of the well-respected biblical scholars I've read have described you as a mystic. Why not?

J: There's nothing so poorly understood in the history of religion as mysticism. Having said that, the form of mysticism I practised has been rare in the annals of religious mysticism. I was neither an apophatic mystic nor an anagogic mystic. I was an endogenous mystic.

A: You're going to have to explain that.

J: Mystical experiences from different cultures can be categorized. And should be categorized. Unfortunately, they're usually lumped together in one big pot. They're assumed to be roughly equivalent to each other. But they're not. For instance, mystics who claim to have had an experience of timeless, transcendent oneness or union with the Divine come away from the experience with the belief that "less is more." These are the apophatic mystics, from the Greek word meaning "negative speaking" or "unspeaking." Apophatic mystics believe you can only experience union with God through the constant practise of mystical contemplation. This practice allows you to first "unknow" or "unspeak" yourself, to escape your frail human senses so you can become a pure empty vessel. If you do it correctly, goes the theory, you find yourself in a transcendent state where you no longer think of yourself as "you." In other words, the path to knowing God is eradication of the self.

A: The opposite of what you taught.
 
J: Yes. Another thing I taught was the futility of the anagogic path -- the vertical or upward path of spiritual ascent that's been taught so many times by so many different teachers over the centuries. Anagogic mystics may or may not also be apophatic mystics, just to make things more confusing. Basically an anagogic mystic is somebody who believes that the only way to know God is to achieve perfection by following a rigorous step-by-step set of instructions or laws in the correct order. This takes you one step at a time up the spiritual ladder. The ladder of perfection takes you closer to God and farther away from your sinful neighbours. It sets you above and apart from your neighbours. Benedict, the founder of the Christian monasteries and the monastic Rule that bear his name, was teaching his monks a form of anagogic mysticism.

A: Again, not what you taught. So explain what you mean by endogenous mysticism.
 
J: It's a term I've coined to suggest an experience of intense mysticism that's hardwired into a person's DNA rather than being imposed from the outside on an unwilling religious acolyte. True mystics are born, not made. Just as true engineers or true musicians are born, not made. An endogenous mystic is somebody who was born with a particular set of talents and communication skills aimed in the directions of philosophy, language, music, mediation (that's mediation, not meditation), and what I'm going to call for lack of a better term "the geek factor." True mystics are more interested than most people in offbeat stories and unusual phenomena. They show a life-long interest in stories and experiences that are somewhat unconventional. Not too weird, but a bit weird. You wouldn't find a mystic teaching an M.B.A. course. But you might find a mystic teaching a Creative Writing course. Most true mystics don't even know they're true mystics. Most often they end up as writers. Writers need more solitary time than most people, as mystics do. They need the solitary time so they can pull up from somewhere inside themselves the emotions and the insights they long to express. They're not being unfriendly or rude or hostile. They just need the quiet time so they can hear themselves think. This is true for both writers and mystics.

A: Well, you can count me in on all scores there. As a child, I spent a lot of time indoors reading. And drawing. And watching TV shows that had a science fiction or fantasy element. I loved the first Star Trek series when it first came out. Come to think of it, I still like it.
 
J: I was like that, too. I was fascinated by the Greek myths. As soon as I learned to read, I read the Iliad. Then the Odyssey. My strict Jewish mother wasn't pleased. But what could she do? She was a widow with a big family to look after. As long as I stayed on the family property, where I couldn't get in too much trouble, she put up with my unusual interest in books, books, and more books. I read everything I could get my hands on. I learned to write by studying the authors I most admired.
 
A: I'm thinkin' that Plato probably wasn't one of your favourite authors.

J: I liked plays, actually. I learned a lot by studying Greek poets and playwrights. I liked the comedies of the Greek playwright Menander. Much healthier than the doleful rantings of the Jewish prophets.

A: These aren't the literary influences one would expect you to describe.
 
J: No. I had to learn to read and write from the sacred Jewish texts because my mother and my maternal grandfather insisted we be literate in our religious heritage. So I knew my Torah and my Proverbs. But I was a born mystic, and, like all mystics and mystics-in-writer's-clothing, I was interested in -- utterly fascinated by -- the fine nuances of character and environment and insight. I wanted to know what made people tick. I wanted to hear how they spoke, how they phrased things, how they interacted with each other. I wanted to know why people fall in love, what they say, what they do. I wanted to absorb all the joys, all the nuances, of life and living.
 
A: As writers do.

J: Writers can't help it. It's what they do. They're so attuned to the rhythms and patterns of language and dialogue and everyday speech and sensory input and colours and textures and movement and nature and choices and especially change. Mystics are like this, too. Deeply attuned to patterns of communication that other people don't pay attention to at a conscious level. A mystic is somebody who's hardwired to pay conscious attention to subtle, nuanced communications from the deepest levels of Creation. Sometimes these communications come from God. Sometimes they come from one's own soul. Sometimes they come from somebody else's soul. But basically it's about conscious observation and understanding of specific kinds of communications. Mystics are tuned to certain bands on the divine radio, if you will. They can pick up stations that most other people aren't interested in trying to pick up. These "mystical" stations aren't better than other stations. They're just . . . well, they're just different. All the stations on the divine radio are good, just as different styles of music are all inherently equal. They're all inherently equal, but they don't all sound the same. Because they're not the same. They're different but equal.
 
A: As souls are all different but equal.
 
J: Yes. A lot of people imagine it would be wonderful and exciting to give over their lives to mysticism. But being a mystic is only wonderful and exciting if you're hardwired to be a mystic. If you're like most people -- born with intuition, but not born to be either a mystic or a writer -- you would find it very isolating, frustrating, even depressing to live as a mystic -- as many Christian nuns, monks, clerics, and mystics have discovered to their misfortune. The "Dark Night of the Soul" is not and should not be part of the journey to knowing God. At no time in my life as Jesus did I experience a Dark Night of the Soul. On the contrary, my experience as a mystic gave me only an ever deepening sense that I was in the right place doing the right thing with the right people for the right reasons. I trusted my "beginning." As a result, I stopped worrying about my "ending." I lived each day in a state of comfort, peace, trust, and love.

A: The journey was not about the end goal, but about finding your own beginning -- knowing yourself as you really are, then going from there.

J: This is the only way to find the freedom that comes from knowing and loving your Divine Parents -- to whom I would like to say, once again for the record, you both rock!
 
* In 1995, Stevan Davies, the same author who published the translation of the Gospel of Thomas I refer to, wrote a very puzzling book called Jesus the Healer (New York: Continuum, 1995) in which he claims that Jesus carried out healings during a trance state called "holy spirit-possession." He concludes, therefore, that Jesus was a "medium." If you've read my comments on The Blonde Mystic blog about psychic powers and psychic mediums, you'll be able to guess what I think of Davies's spirit-possession thesis.