Bodhidharma, Shen Guang, and the Shaolin Temple

image: Wikimedia commons (link).

The historicity of many aspects of the famous Shaolin Temple* of China can be, and has been, a subject for study and debate.

As with many such debates, particularly those in which deep reverence or personal beliefs are involved, examination of this subject can sometimes become contentious.

Without entering directly into the "deep water" of such disputes or debates, we can at least agree that the tradition of the Shaolin Temple is itself indisputably connected with two very important traditions: Ch'an Buddhism (which is often spelled Chan Buddhism, and which is the direct predecessor of Zen Buddhism in Japan), and the martial arts.

Previous posts have explored the importance of the connection between these two, in that training in the use of force can cause us to fall into the error of "turning a person into a thing" (in the words of Simone Weil in her famous 1940 essay on The Iliad: or the Poem of Force), but meditation upon the spiritual content and value of every being we encounter and cultivation of the attitude of blessing others and wishing to see their spirit elevated has the exact opposite tendency and acts as a counterbalance, with the goal that what could be misused to "lower spiritual awareness in one's self and in others" (as engaging in the use of force in ways that violate the rights of others will inevitably do) is instead transformed into a practice which "elevates spiritual awareness in one's self and in others" (by reducing the practitioner's need to use force inappropriately, while enabling him or her to use force to protect one's self or others if necessary and thus prevent violence). 

Through this focus on spirit and blessing, the martial arts are (ideally) transformed into a spiritually uplifting discipline analogous to yoga and other practices designed to elevate spiritual awareness and bless and regenerate the world.

I would argue that the emphasis on the invisible world of spirit is coded into the traditions of Shaolin Temple through references to the celestial realm, used throughout the world to convey deep teachings regarding the spiritual component of human existence and of the universe in which we live, and their dual material and spiritual composition. 

For example, precessional numbers such as 72 and 108 are deeply embedded in numerous Chinese martial arts, and in the traditions of the Shaolin Temple. For example, Shi Yan Ming -- who grew up in the Shaolin lineage --  has written about the fact that the Shaolin Temple traditionally contained 72 rooms or chambers. Other traditions assert that in order to graduate as a Shaolin monk, a candidate had to pass through an elaborate hall containing 108 mechanical dummies which would each launch a different unexpected attack upon the candidate at a different point on the journey down the hall.

Some might argue that the incorporation of these numbers, 72 and 108, do not necessarily indicate an esoteric celestial aspect to these traditions. They might argue that, although these same numbers are found in the sacred texts and rituals of India, or in the dimensions of the pyramids at Giza in Egypt and in Egyptian myth, or in the Norse sagas, their presence in China could be attributed to mere coincidence, and that since those ancient cultures are separated by such vast distances, the use of 72 and 108 in China might be referring to something else entirely.

However, I believe there are additional very powerful reasons to believe that the very same celestial codes operating in the myths and traditions of cultures such as ancient Egypt or ancient India (or across the oceans in the dimensions of the monuments in Central and South America) can be shown to be operating in the esoteric traditions of Chan Buddhism as well, and that the conclusion that these numbers are a celestial and hence a spiritual code is well-founded.

image: Wikimedia commons (link).

The ancient connection between Chan Buddhism and the practice of martial arts as a form of spiritual elevation and blessing can be traced directly back to the texts and traditions surrounding the figure of Bodhidharma, also called Da Mo in China, who according to tradition brought both to China.

Stories of the life of Da Mo can be found in early texts, most notably in the text known as the Ching-te Chuan Teng-lu (ways of spelling this text in English vary), or the "Transmission of the Lamp," which is itself a collection of various earlier traditions regarding Da Mo. The expression "Transmission of the Lamp" refers to the passing down of dharma or the ineffable teachings of Chan, which supposedly originated with Da Mo. 

Da Mo is often said to have lived between AD 470 and AD 532 (or 528). The Chuan Teng-lu was collected later, around the year AD 1000. See for some discussion of the compilation of the Chuan Teng-lu page 155 in this text entitled Zen Canon: Understanding the Classic Texts.

In the account of Da Mo given in the text itself (for instance, beginning on page 150 of this translation), we read the famous story of the transmission of the dharma from Da Mo to his first disciple, Shen Guang, in which Da Mo knelt motionless in meditation (in some accounts for nine full years), while Shen Guang stood guard over him in hopes of being noticed:

Staying at the Shaolin Temple on Mount Song, there he sat in meditation facing a wall, a whole day in silence. People couldn't understand it so they called him 'the wall-gazing Brahmin'. At that time there was a monk named Shenguang who was deeply learned and had lived for a long time near Luoyang by the Rivers Yi and Luo. A scholar well read in many books, he could discourse eloquently on the Dark Learning. Sighing frequently, he would say, 'The teachings of Confucius and Laozi take rituals as the Practice and customs as the Rule, while in the books of Zhangzi and The Changes the wonderful principle is still inexhaustible. Now I have heard that a great master, Damo (Bodhidharma), is residing at Shaolin. I must pay a visit to this peerless sage living not so far distant.' Then he went, visiting morning and evening for instruction. Master Damo was always sitting in a dignified posture facing a wall and so Guang heard no teachings nor did he receive any encouragement. Then Guang thought to himself, 'Men of old, on searching the Way, broke their bones to extract the marrow, let their blood flow to help the starving, spread hairs on muddy roads [to allow people to pass], or jumped off cliffs to feed a tiger. In days of old it was still like this, now what kind of man am I?' 150.

Finally, after a great snow fell and Shen Guang still stood motionless guarding Da Mo, the master spoke to Shen Guang and asked what he wanted. In some versions of the story, Shen Guang hurls a large block of snow and ice into the cave or chamber in which Da Mo was meditating, in order to get his attention. In any case, Shen Guang finally pulls out his sword and cuts off his own left arm in order to demonstrate his tremendous devotion and desire to learn what Da Mo has to show him (in some versions, Da Mo says he will only teach Shen Guang when red snow begins to fall from the sky, and so Shen Guang waves his own severed arm around his head and Da Mo finally relents and decides to take on this devoted disciple, who afterwards took on the name Hui-k'o). 

You can read some of the other aspects of this story, and the other adventures attributed to Da Mo and Shen Guang, in the account here on Shi Yan Ming's website, as well as in other texts in books or on the web, such as the version given in Thomas Hoover's 1980 book The Zen Experience, available on the web here through Project Gutenberg. See pages 28 and following of that online file.

Concerned readers can be comforted by the fact that I personally believe no arms were literally severed and waved around anyone's head in order to pass on the teachings of Chan Buddhism in the time of Da Mo and Shen Guang, but believe that this story -- like so many other sacred spiritual traditions around the globe -- can be convincingly demonstrated to be based squarely upon celestial metaphor, as are many of the other incidents and episodes in the traditional account of Da Mo.

The fact that this story is probably not literal is indicated by some of the other traditions surrounding the kneeling meditation of Da Mo, such as the detail that he remained in the kneeling meditation for nine full years without moving, facing the wall of the cave, until his image was actually transferred to the wall itself. Another aspect of the tradition (cited in Thomas Hoover's book above) states that when his eyelids became heavy and he felt he might be drifting off to sleep, Da Mo ripped off his own eyelids to continue his meditation. And another aspect of the story has him kneeling there so long that his legs actually fall off. 

Clearly, these aspects of the story can probably not be taken literally, and I don't believe the severing of Shen Guang's arm should be, either.  

In fact, I believe that familiarity with the constellations who take on similar roles in other myths and stories around the world will immediately suggest the probable celestial identities of both Da Mo (who kneels, meditating, endlessly until his very image or shadow is transferred to the cave wall) and Shen Guang (who stands silently guarding Da Mo, until at last in desperation he cuts off his own arm and waves it around to make the snow red and prove his devotion).

The diagram below shows the important constellation of Bootes, whom we have met in numerous other myths (see this index of stars and constellations and blog posts which discuss them). As you can see, the outline of Bootes resembles a kneeling figure -- and in fact the tiny "leg" which is drawn in this outline based on the system suggested by H.A. Rey is very faint, and the stars themselves could alternately be envisioned as a robed, kneeling figure with a bald head, as Da Mo is often drawn in art stretching back centuries.

Above the kneeling figure stands the vigilant figure of Shen Guang, played in this case by the celestial actor of the constellation Hercules, who appears to be brandishing an enormous sword, in his right hand (which is probably why it is his left arm that he cuts off in the story):

As for the bloody arm itself, I believe a good case can be made for the constellation Coma Berenices, or Berenice's Hair, in the role of the bloody arm. It consists of a vertical line between its two brightest stars, and then a myriad of "droplets" fanning out from one end of the vertical line (this constellation is described on pages 36 and 37 of H. A. Rey's essential book on the stars and constellations, The Stars: A New Way to See Them). In this case, it appears that the bloody arm is being waved right in front of Da Mo, in order to really get his attention.

There are, in fact, many other clues in the traditions of Da Mo which indicate to me that the above interpretation is very likely the correct celestial origin of the Da Mo story. One of the most well-known and oft-depicted episodes in his life is Da Mo's famous crossing of a wide river upon a broken reed, which is given to him in most accounts by an old woman at the near side of the river before he ventures across on the unlikely reed. 

As can be seen from the diagram above, the "bloody arm" in this case probably represents the broken reed in that aspect of Da Mo's mission, and the woman who provides the reed to him for this occasion is none other than Virgo, who can be seen with her arm outstretched, giving the reed to Bodhidharma for his crossing. 

Another episode from the story of Da Mo and Shen Guang has the impertinent Shen Guang taking his  won string of Buddhist beads from around his neck and flicking them at Da Mo, knocking out some of Da Mo's teeth in the process (the imperturbable Da Mo acts as though nothing untoward has happened, and walks away). In between Hercules and Bootes is the necklace-shaped constellation known as the Corona Borealis, or the Northern Crown. We saw that it almost certainly represents the gorgeous necklace of Freya in Norse myth, as well as a necklace in a famous Japanese myth about Amaterasu the sun goddess. 

In the star chart above, the Northern Crown is outlined in purple, and marked as a "Sandal (?)." This is because there is yet another tradition about Da Mo, depicting him as carrying a staff over his shoulder with a single sandal hanging from one end of the staff. In The Zen Teaching of Bodhidharma, we read on page xiv:

In his Transmission of the Lamp, Tao-yuan says that soon after he had transmitted the patriarchship of his lineage to Hui-k'o [that is, Shen Guang], Bodhidharma died in 528 on the fifth day of the tenth month, poisoned by a jealous monk. Tao-hsuan's much earlier biography of Bodhidharma says only that he died on the banks of the Lo River and doesn't mention the date or cause of death. According to Tao-yuah, Bodhidharma's remains were interred near Loyang at Tinglin Temple on Bear Ear Mountain. Tao-yuan adds that three years later an official met Bodhidharma walking in the mountains of Central Asia. He was carrying a staff from which hung a single sandal, and he told the official he was going back to India. Reports of this meeting aroused the curiousity of other monks, who finally agreed to open Bodhidharma's tomb. But inside all they found was a single sandal, and ever since then Bodhidharma has been pictured carrying a staff from which hangs the missing sandal.

If you note from the above diagram that Bootes has a long "pipe" that he seems to be smoking, you can instead imaging this pipe as a staff, and if it continues over his shoulder, then it would be perfectly positioned to imaging that the semi-circular arc of the Northern Crown is the other shoe or sandal hanging from the staff. In fact, the depictions of Bodhidharma's staff often seem to have a "crook" or bent part at the end -- in other words, depicting the staff as shaped somewhat like the pipe of Bootes with its wide end (see here or here or here, for example, and older art depicting him often uses similar symbology). 

So, I believe that the purple arc which functions as the Buddhist beads in the episode in which Shen Guang flicks beads at Da Mo may also function as the single shoe or slipper or sandal in the episode of Da Mo walking the hills with one shoe hanging from his staff after he was supposedly dead and buried.

All of this celestial metaphor within the story of Da Mo and the founding of Chan tradition and of the Shaolin Temple, I believe, serves as an esoteric pointer to the realm of the spiritual. The realm of the stars, for reasons discussed in other posts and in the book The Undying Stars, functions in myth around the world (including the stories in the Old and New Testaments of the Bible) as a pointer to the invisible world of spirit (just as this lower world of earth and water, into which the stars plunge as they sink down in the west, represents the realm of matter and incarnation).

I believe that this clear evidence of celestial metaphor also serves to validate the assertion that the celestial numbers 72 and 108 in many Chinese martial arts originally associated with the Shaolin Temple are serving a similar function (just as they do in so many other myths and sacred traditions around the globe).

And, finally, it points to a very important truth, which the ancient keepers of the traditions of both Chan Buddhism and the martial arts wished to impart to us: that while activities such as physical training and discipline and even the effective use of force may be a very important aspect of our time here in this physical realm of incarnation, we must not forget that we and everyone else we meet are also spiritual beings, and that ultimately our actions should serve to elevate the spiritual aspect of ourselves and others, rather than to put it down. 

Ultimately, these arts are about recognizing who we are, in a world which often seems to do everything possible to keep us from remembering or recognizing the truth.

image: Wikimedia commons (link).

* The characters usually translated "Shaolin" are

少  林

and mean "small forest."

In Mandarin this is xiăo lín and in Cantonese it is  síu làhm both of which mean "small forest" (in that order). 

You can see the characters in the image above (top), on the sign posted over the door, although they are written right to left, such that the symbol for "small" is on the right and "forest" is in the middle.

The symbol for "temple" (on the left as you look at the photo on the page) is:

寺

The Tao Te Ching: "Be like water"

image: Wikimedia commons (link).

The preceding post presented evidence to suggest that the ancient wisdom which informs many of the sacred traditions around the world may have had a deep common source, or that while manifesting itself in different outward appearances in different cultures and time periods around the world, one stream can be detected surging through all of them.

In particular, that post and previous posts related to this discussion (such as this one and this one) argue that when these ancient traditions are understood to be esoteric and allegorical in nature, then their deeper unity can be perceived: different metaphors may be employed, but upon closer examination it is found that these varying metaphors are all attempting to convey a very similar message.

On the other hand, there is abundant evidence to support the conclusion that replacing the esoteric and allegorical approach with an approach that understands these texts primarily as describing literal and historic events and personages leads almost by necessity to divisions and separation and contentions.

These divisions can even lead to a cutting-off from the connection to the universe itself, and to the invisible flow of the universe referred to in some ancient texts as the TAO or the Way (a word which itself may, we saw, be linguistically related to a host of other sacred names around the world, including PTAH, JAH, BUDDHA, MANITOU, and others).

It is both interesting and valuable to examine some of the principles of Taoism and see how they resonate with principles in other ancient cultures seemingly far-removed from ancient China. One well-known passage from the Tao Te Ching, found in the section traditionally numbered 8 out of 81 (although earlier texts only discovered in the last decades of the twentieth century and discussed further below appear to have arranged the sections quite differently), reads as follows:

上 善 若 水

水 善 利 萬 物 而

不 爭

處 眾 人 之 所 惡

故 幾 於 道

居 善 地

心 善 淵

與 善 仁

言 善 信

政 善 治

事 善 能

動 善 時

夫 唯 不 爭

故 無 尤   (link).

This section has been translated:

Best to be like water,

Which benefits the ten thousand things

And does not contend.

It pools where humans disdain to dwell,

Close to the Tao.

Live in a good place.

Keep your mind deep.

Treat others well.

Stand by your word.

Keep good order.

Do the right thing.

Work when it's time.

Only do not contend,

And you will not go wrong.

Translation by Stephen Addiss and Stanley Lombardo (link).

The final character in the first line of traditional characters above, and the first character in the second line, is the symbol for "water": 

水

The passage says twice that water "does not contend." This is expressed by the traditional characters 

不

and

爭

which mean "not" and "contend," the first symbol sometimes being described as a bird, flying up to a ceiling and not being able to fly out (therefore expressing the concept of "not") and the second symbol being composed of two characters stacked on top of one another, the top character resembling a "claw" and originally carrying that meaning (it looks like a horizontal bar with three "fingers" extending downwards) and the lower character being a symbol for "manual dexterity" and being derived from the basic character for "hand," which looks like this: 

手

Thus the symbol for "not contend" or "it does not contend" is composed of a symbol meaning "not" and a symbol that expresses "grasping" or "clawing" or using the hand to seize and clutch and grab.

We can readily appreciate that water in fact does not contend: it is a well-known and oft-stated aphorism that water always "seeks the path of least resistance." Water seeks the lowest places, something that this section of the Tao Te Ching points out, while commenting that these are the places where people (indicated by the symbol

人 

in the third line of characters as shown above) "disdain to dwell" -- and then saying that these places are somehow those that are actually "close to the Tao." 

This is interesting, because it is at this point that it becomes clear that the text is referring to something more than a literal concept: it is probably not telling us that in order to become "close to the Tao" we have to actually seek out certain low-lying swampy pieces of terrain and crouch down there. The text is referring to something that is invisible, something that is a principle related to the universe and the Way that it operates, through an examination of the principles that we can see in water.

From this rather famous passage from the text, we can perceive that aligning with the Tao seems to have something to do with "not contending," with emulating certain aspects exhibited by water in its efficiency and its lack of "grasping" or "clawing," and with aligning ourselves with the invisible energy of the universe and the direction that it takes us, rather than seeking out the things that are perhaps most highly sought after by society (the comment that water "pools where humans disdain to dwell" indicates that the things most highly valued by society may not always be the best guide or indicator of the direction we want to seek).

The character for the word "Tao" itself is actually composed of the symbol for a road and the symbol for a head (which itself is based upon the symbol for an eye), and appears in the computer version of the symbols in the text cited above in the following manner (you can see it at the end of the fourth line of characters):

道

This symbol looks rather prosaic as rendered by a computer, but when written by a calligrapher is a singularly beautiful and expressive character (below is an example from a manuscript of the Tang dynasty, which has been dated as written by a calligrapher in AD 676):

image: Wikimedia commons (link) -- I've taken the liberty of adding a cutout of an enlarged image of the character for "Tao" (Way or Road) from the text, and pointing out its location within the text. 

The word usually rendered into English as "Tao" which is indicated by the above character is actually pronounced dao in Mandarin Chinese (poutongwa), and douh in Cantonese (Guangdongwa) and means "way" or "road" (but also "Tao" and is also used to refer to Taoism in general).

It is interesting to think of this "Way" as being somehow akin to the path followed by water, which unerringly seeks out the most efficient and effective and least contentious Way, a Way that has no need for contending -- and then to think about examples in daily life that seem to embody this principle. 

For instance, one might think of a motion in a familiar sport, such as basketball or tennis: shooting a basketball is a fairly complex skill, as is striking a tennis ball effectively with a forehand or backhand or an overhand serve. There is a set of motions that is most effortless, most efficient, and generally most effective for shooting, say, a three-point shot in basketball or hitting a powerful forehand in tennis. 

However, when we first begin to try to perform these motions (or when we see someone who is just learning to do it, perhaps a child or a teenager or some other beginner), what often happens is that the beginner will find his or her way into using a set of motions which are not the most effective or efficient -- a set of motions which we might say are not, strictly speaking, "good form," but which give the person a sort of "artificial" success.

You might see children who are not quite strong enough to shoot a basketball properly at a full-sized hoop, for example, using a variety of "compensating" motions in order to get the ball to the proper height to go into the basket -- but which you realize are habits that must eventually be corrected as the child gets older and stronger, because they are actually not the most efficient motions or the motions that will produce the most consistently accurate shots, because they actually are motions that "work against each other" in some way. 

Sometimes, we ourselves (or people we see who are learning a sport such as basketball or tennis) will "hold on" to these bad habits, because they produce a modicum of success, and we are afraid of losing that success by unlearning those motions and replacing them with the more effective motions. Coaches sometimes see a lot of resistance from a player who is comfortable in some bad habits which the coach knows are holding the player's shot back in certain important ways. 

This may be a good example of the concept being expressed about being "like water" and "not contending" -- a shot which is using "bad form" is actually "contending" against gravity or against the principles of physics or some other principles "of the universe" in some way, which holds it back and makes it more awkward and more self-defeating than it should be.

Obviously, this rather "physical" example can then be applied to all kinds of non-physical aspects of our lives in which we are doing things in ways that are "contentious" or "not like water" or "not in alignment with the Tao" and which in doing things that way we create all kinds of "turbulence" between ourselves and those around us, or within ourselves, or both. We can even feel the resistance of the universe itself when we are stubbornly refusing to "align ourselves" with the principles of that flow, just as a tennis or basketball player can often feel the ways in which their refusal to align their shot with the principles of "good form" may be causing them to sabotage their own efforts.

Interestingly enough, calligraphy itself and the painting of traditional Chinese characters can be an expression of alignment with the Tao. Producing beautiful traditional characters such as the page of text from the Tang dynasty shown above requires alignment with certain principles which are every bit as demanding as those required in a basketball or tennis shot, and requires the practitioner to learn how to overcome bad habits and inefficient motions that can be every bit as self-defeating as those which players can develop in any sport. One can do a simple search for the words "Tao" and "calligraphy" on the web and find a host of interesting texts on the subject.

Even more intriguing is the fact that the desired characteristics of Taoist calligraphy are expressed in terms of the human body: the characteristics are categorized into the areas of "bone" (the actual structure and form of the characters, as well as their size and "posture"), of "blood" (the consistency of the ink, which is mixed by the calligrapher using a stick, a stone, and a small amount of water), of "flesh" (the thickness and flow of the strokes themselves, and their proportion in terms of being neither too "fat" nor too "skinny" in their conformation), and of "muscle" (movement, energy, spirit, and vital force) -- see for instance this text among many other possible discussions.

This itself expresses the concept of "microcosm and macrocosm," in that the letters themselves are acting a role as a "microcosm" of the human body and, by extension, the human life lived in alignment with the energy of the Tao or the universal flow. Alvin Boyd Kuhn discussed manifestations of this same principle in regards to the letters of Hebrew and Greek and other writing systems within the esoteric traditions of other ancient civilizations in other parts of the world.

As alluded to above, during the 1970s previously unknown manuscripts containing the text of the Tao Te Ching were discovered in tombs in Ma-wang-tui (also frequently written as Mawangdui). These texts, sometimes known as the "silk texts" because they were written on sheets of silk, date to the middle or even the first part of the second century BC, and were much older than previous extant texts of the Tao Te Ching by about 500 years (since that time, in the 1990s, new and even older texts containing lines from the Tao Te Ching have been found in another tomb, this time on thin bamboo strips).

This discovery prompted one scholar of Chinese language and literature to decide that the Ma-wang-tui texts cast so much new light upon the text of the Tao Te Ching that it was worthy of a new translation and examination: the 1990 translation by Victor H. Mair. Towards the end of his edition, Professor Mair (the Chair of Chinese Language and Literature at the University of Pennsylvania) embarks upon some examination of the resonances within Taoist thought and expression to other ancient sacred texts and thought, including the texts of ancient India.

At one point he makes an extremely important observation concerning a passage from the sixth stanza of the Mundaka Upanishad and the section of the Tao Te Ching traditionally numbered 11 (but numbered 55 in Professor Mair's 1990 translation, based on the Ma-wang-tui texts):

The whole second khanda (section) of the Mudaka Upanisad has so many close parallels to the Tao Te Ching that it deserves the most thorough study by serious students of the Taoist classic. Here I shall cite only a part of the sixth stanza, which bears obvious resemblance to one of the most celebrated images of the Old Master:

Where the channels (nadi) come together

Like spokes in the hub of a wheel,

Therein he (imperishable Brahman as manifested in the individual soul [atman]) moves about

Becoming manifold.

The corresponding passage from the Tao Te Ching (chapter 55, lines 103) has a slightly different application but the common inspiration is evident:

Thirty spokes converge on a single hub,

but it is in the space where there is nothing

that the usefulness of the cart lies.

In one of the earliest Upanisads, the Chandogya, we find an exposition of the microcosmology of the human body that certainly prefigures Taoist notions of a much later period:

A hundred and one are the arteries (nadi) of the heart,

One of them leads up to the crown of the head;

Going upward through that, one becomes immortal (amrta),

The others serve for going in various directions. . . . (translation adapted from Radhakrishnan, p. 501). 156-157.

This correspondence, as Professor Mair makes clear, is most significant and most remarkable. The use of the imagery of spokes is common to both, and both clearly use the metaphor of the spokes of the wheel to refer not only to an aspect of the wider universe but also to the human body and to human life, connecting each of us not only to the universe but specifically to the invisible part of the universe, the "space within the wheel," where the invisible divinity is located, and who is also manifest within the human soul.  

Not only does this continue the "macrocosm-microcosm" theme which can be shown to be an absolutely fundamental aspect of virtually all the world's esoteric sacred texts and traditions (including the texts of the Old and New Testament), and not only does the concept of the "hidden divinity" have important connections to the concept of "Namaste and Amen" discussed in numerous previous posts (which also connects to the scriptures of the Bible, as well as to important themes present in ancient Egyptian sacred mythology), but it is very likely that these passages which Professor Mair here focuses upon also contain powerful echoes with the text of the extraordinarily important "Vision of Ezekiel" and the "wheels within wheels," which I have discussed at length as being a metaphorical description of an understanding of the motions of the celestial machinery -- the same understanding which is depicted in the models of the heavens known as armillary spheres. 

Note that in both of the passages cited above -- one from the Tao Te Ching and one from the Upanisads  -- the metaphor of a wheel with spokes is used, and in the Upanisad it is said that Brahma dwells "therein" or in the center of that wheel, exactly as the Most High is described as being enthroned upon or above the wheels in the Vision of Ezekiel. 

In fact, as I explained in the previous examination of the details of the description in the Ezekiel text, there the wheel is specifically described as being composed of "strakes," which is a very precise term from the old craft of wooden wheelmaking, describing the curved outer segments of a wooden wheel -- outer segments which would be a perfect metaphor for the twelve segments belonging to each sign of the zodiac within the great celestial band or "wheel" of the zodiac.

Notice that in the passage from the Tao Te Ching, the number of spokes on the wheel is specifically given as thirty

spokes: is it not significant that each of the sections of the zodiac wheel (each of the "strakes," if you will) would have exactly thirty degrees, if there are twelve signs of the zodiac and if the circle is divided into three hundred and sixty measurement units called "degrees"? 

Based on these correspondences, it is almost certain that there are direct parallels between the esoteric message being conveyed (albeit using slightly different metaphorical details, and different versions of the divine name) by the ancient texts of the Upanishad, the Hebrew Scriptures, and the Tao Te Ching.

This is all very important, and points to profound connections between the ancient sacred knowledge of the human race, and to the fact that we should all actually be united by our ancient heritage, and not divided.

One very practical implication of the foregoing is the realization that one can learn from and incorporate the profound lessons conveyed by different sacred traditions, because they are all using slightly different expressions to try to point towards the same truths. If one aspect of the metaphor provides better insight, or feels in some way more accessible, there is nothing wrong with learning from it. As we have already seen, Buddhism and Taoism are almost certainly names which have linguistically identical origins, and which probably share the same linguistic heritage with the divine names of JAH and PTAH and MANITOU and many others.

The Tao Te Ching has a unique power of its own, a unique voice in expressing and conveying the ancient wisdom.

It describes the ideas of aligning with the flow of the universe in a way that might be particularly helpful in all kinds of "simple" ways within our day-to-day life. 

Thinking about having "efficient good form" in a shot in tennis or basketball as being a good example of "aligning with the flow" and not going against it, we can then think about expressing that same kind of alignment and efficiency and "non-contention" in the way we drive a car, or wash dishes, or open a door, or interact with people around us.

When someone starts "contending" with us, we can see if they are acting in ways that are not aligned with that universal flow, and we can ask ourselves whether that is a good reason to allow ourselves to also get out into contention and turbulence, or if we prefer to seek to stay aligned with the Tao and act more like water in a stream.

Of course, since none of us is perfect and since this material realm is full of systems which seem almost purpose-built to jostle us out of alignment with the Tao, this is a process that can fruitfully provide us with rewarding challenges, even if we are performing what might otherwise seem to be the most mundane of tasks or jobs. And even if we have relative success on one day, we won't become bored because the next day will probably teach us how much we still have to learn in this regard.

Ultimately, as the deeper connections touched on above seem to indicate, I believe that the process of aligning with the Tao that is the subject of the Tao Te Ching involves the awareness of, the acknowledgement of, and some interaction with the reality of the invisible aspect of the universe, and not just its physical forces.

And, as we have seen in many previous posts, this seems to be one of the most central messages of the world's esoteric texts and traditions, all of which I believe should be viewed as our shared inheritance from the remarkable messengers who gave us this sacred ancient wisdom.

Gung-hei faat choih!

恭喜发财

PTAH, JAH, TAO, and BUDDHA

image: Wikimedia commons (link).

The preceding post examined evidence found in the treatise on the Therapeutae, written by Philo of Alexandria sometime prior to AD 40 or 50, which suggests that -- in addition to pursuing an ascetic lifestyle characterized by a vegetarian diet, daily intermittent fasting, regular periods of longer fasting, long periods of meditation and prayer, simplicity of dress, lack of material possessions, and participation in a community of others who practiced the same lifestyle -- the Therapeutae studied ancient sacred writings with an eye to their esoteric content and message, and that at least some of the Therapeutae were able to enter a state of ecstatic trance in which they spoke messages which came from the realm of non-ordinary reality.

In that post, we also examined the arguments of Gerald Massey (1828 - 1907) regarding the importance of the many similarities between the ancient descriptions of the beliefs and practices of ascetic communities such as the Therapeutae and the doctrines described in many of the New Testament texts. 

Massey points out that early literalist Christian authorities such as Eusebius (c. AD 260 - c. AD 340) would sometimes try to argue that these similarities are evidence that the Therapeutae were very early communities of literalist Christians, but that in doing so those writers make a revealing error, because in doing so:

• these writers admit the undeniable similarities between elements of the Therapeutae descriptions and the sayings attributed to Christ or taught in the New Testament Epistles, but that . . .
• because the Therapeutae and other such communities -- and their teachings -- were in existence long before the time of the New Testament, this shows that they are part of a stream which is far more ancient, and which thus refutes the historical framework advanced by literalist polemicists such as Eusebius.

In other words, one way of expressing this thesis would be to say that surviving descriptions of ancient communities such as the Therapeutae contain evidence that places these ancient communities squarely within the current of the rest of the world's ancient wisdom traditions -- traditions which can also be shown to be founded upon esoteric sacred texts or mythologies, and to be founded upon a worldview which included ecstatic trance and which can be described as essentially shamanic -- but that the literalist-historicist system advanced by Eusebius and others during the subsequent centuries rejected both the esoteric and shamanic aspects and consciously and deliberately cut itself off from that same current of the world's ancient knowledge.  

Rather than representing a new and different teaching, the texts of the New Testament can be shown to be based upon the same system of celestial metaphor common to the rest of the world's sacred traditions, and to contain clear parallels to other systems of myth going back thousands of years (some previous posts discussing aspects of this evidence include "The shamanic foundation of the world's ancient wisdom," "Namaste and Amen," "Epiphany: revealing the hidden divine nature," "The Angel Gabriel," and many others). 

And, rather than representing an early example of a new Christian faith built upon a literal and historicist interpretation of these ancient scriptures, communities such as the Therapeutae can be shown to be part of a very ancient wisdom tradition, and one with strong parallels literally around the world. In other words, it fits into a stream which appears to connect humanity both across the distances of time and of space: one which not only flows back across time through millennia, but one which also appears to flow across vast stretches of geographical space, across continents and seemingly very different cultures.

And, when the literalists self-consciously cut themselves off from this stream, it can be said that they also in a way cut themselves off from a deep connection to the universe, insofar as their insistence on approaching the sacred texts as descriptive of literal, historical events which took place on planet earth can be seen as a deliberate repudiation of the celestial basis underlying all the stories of the Biblical scriptures, from Adam and Eve and the Serpent, to the story of Noah and his three sons, to the sacrifice of Abraham, the crossing of the Red Sea, the adventures of Samson, the horrible oath of Jephthah, the Judgement of Solomon, the events in the life of Elisha, the Vision of Ezekiel, and all the rest -- including the stories in the New Testament as well.

One important message conveyed by all of these stories is the connection between humanity and the wider universe -- the stories themselves depict stars, planets, constellations, and the sun and moon as human beings walking on earth and going through all "the heart-ache and the thousand natural shocks that flesh is heir to" (as Hamlet says). In doing so, they implicitly suggest that we ourselves and our "motions" in this mortal life are in some way connected to and reflective of the motions of those heavenly actors.

Indeed, as many previous posts and the book The Undying Stars discuss at length, the deeper esoteric message of the Star Myths found in the Bible and in the rest of the ancient sacred traditions and scriptures around the world may involve a view of the universe in which there is an unseen spirit realm in addition to the visible material reality with which we are familiar, and the message that the material realm is in fact connected to, interpenetrated by, and even projected from the unseen realm.

By cutting themselves off from this understanding, the literalists were in effect cutting themselves off from and setting themselves against not only all the other cultures and sacred traditions of the rest of humanity but also the very "flow of the universe" itself -- that concept which is expressed in Taoism as the eternal Tao.

The details of the Therapeutae described by Philo, and the attempts by later literalists such as Eusebius to co-opt them into literalist Christianity, provide an invaluable window through which to observe this important concept in action. For the literalist system advanced by Eusebius and his colleagues can be seen to have strongly rejected what are arguably the most vital aspects of the Therapeutae way as described by Philo: their allegorical and non-literalistic hermeneutic with regard to sacred texts (which, as I have argued above, convey an esoteric message involving a deep connection between our lives on earth and the motions of the heavens and of the earth on its course around the sun, and to the spirit world which interpenetrates and thus connects everything in this visible universe), their high regard for knowledge obtained while in a state of trance (which is a form of direct and unmediated revelation to the individual, and which provides immediate confirmation of the invisible connection just described), and even their decision to abstain from the eating of flesh (which evinces a sense of connection to the other creatures of our planet, rather than the belief that animals are created for humanity's exploitation, which has led to the situation today in which animals in the food industry are regularly treated in the most inhumane manner imaginable, a situation only possible in a society in which large numbers of people feel no connection to these animals at all).

All of these aspects of the Therapeutae can be seen as belonging to the family of teachings which seek to align with what we could describe as the flow of the universe, or the Tao -- and they are the very aspects of the Therapeutae way which were not incorporated into literalist Christianity, which is in keeping with the above observation that the literalist approach to the scriptures almost of necessity represented a self-imposed isolation not just from the rest of the world's wisdom traditions but also from the flow of the universe itself.

And here is where another insight from Gerald Massey opens up a whole new vista of evidence to support this assertion. Beginning most explicitly in the fourteenth paragraph of the treatise entitled "Gnostic and Historic Christianity" which was discussed in the preceding post, Massey argues that the Therapeutae seem to be part of a tradition stretching back to the Pythagoreans, and that this connection was indeed advanced by at least one important ancient author.

The reader may remember that the Pythagoreans were strongly associated in ancient times with the practice of a vegetarian diet (see discussions here and here, for example), as well as the fact that the Pythagoreans practiced a deeply esoteric approach to number, with the study of number and geometry functioning very much as an ancient "text" from which they derived profound truths regarding the nature of the universe and of human existence, in exactly the same way that other esoteric communities derived the same understanding from written texts or sacred myth. Thus, the possibility of a continuity of tradition between the practices of the Pythagoreans and those described by Philo among the Therapeutae appears to be well-founded. It obviously argues that the practices of the Therapeutae are part of a stream that is much older than the literalists such as Eusebius would have us believe.

There is also the abundance of ancient texts which declare that Pythagoras was an accomplished healer, and that he believed and taught the healing power of music, rhythm and vibration -- and that he in fact "tuned himself up" every morning with a period of singing, dancing, and playing the lyre! This connection provides yet another support for placing the Pythagoreans and the Therapeutae within the same ancient stream, because as we have seen from Philo's description, the Therapeutae also placed great emphasis on the importance of harmonic and rhythmic singing, and of course their very name has come to be associated with healing the body -- a very important aspect of this group which connects them not only to the Pythagoreans but to many other similar groups found in other cultures as well (and see also this previous post).

Whether of not Pythagoras was a literal and historical human figure is actually open to debate, but the traditions surrounding his life state quite clearly that much of his knowledge came from Egypt, where he is said to have traveled in order to gain access to the ancient wisdom kept by the Egyptian priests.

Massey then offers some linguistic connections which lead to some frankly mind-blowing possibilities. He argues that the root of the name Pythagoras most likely stems from the ancient Egyptian god Ptah, which can also yield Putha and Put, and which may in fact be the original source of the name of the Buddha, and even of the Therapeutae!

Now, this is truly a revolutionary insight. Because, as noted in the preceding post, some of the features Philo describes regarding the Therapeutae -- such as the abstention from eating meat, the simplicity of dress, and the giving away of all possessions -- are not really features associated with the literalist Christianity advocated by Eusebius and his colleagues, but they are indeed features strongly associated with many expressions of "Eastern" traditions including Buddhism, Hinduism, Taoism, and others. 

And, previous posts have made note of the parallels (which have been noted by other researchers as well) between some aspects of ancient Egyptian priests and priestesses (of Isis, for instance) and elements of Buddhist monasticism. Also, I believe Patricia Awyan in correspondence with me has mentioned the importance of the Ptah connection as well.

Taking the ball from Massey at this point and running with it a little further, so to speak, it can also be argued on linguistic principles that the word Tao could be said to have connections to the name of the invisible Ptah as well. And thus we see that the name of the Egyptian Ptah can be argued to have connections to Buddhism (if we insert a vowel between the first two consonants, which also leads to the connections to the name of Pythagoras) and to Taoism (if we do not).

Further, while some may protest such a connection, it is linguistically feasible to suggest a connection to the sacred name JAH along these same lines as well, which is the version of the divine name used in Psalm 68 and verse 4.

Additionally, we might also argue that there are sound reasons to suggest a connection between the name of Ptah and the Egyptian name Sahu, which was associated with the constellation of Orion. 

The likelihood that Orion was associated with the Egyptian god Osiris is well-known, has been argued for over a century by many researchers, and is I believe well-established by the evidence offered by researchers such as Hertha von Dechend and Giorgio de Santillana in Hamlet's Mill, and Jane B. Sellers in Death of Gods in Ancient Egypt  (see also the discussion in previous blog posts including "Dawn of the Golden Age," "Precession = the Key," "Hamlet, Hamlet's Mill, and Astro-Theology," and "Capella, precession, and the end of the Golden Age").  

However, there are strong connections between the characteristics associated with Osiris and many of the characteristics of the god Ptah, who was also anciently depicted as being swathed in mummy-clothes as was Osiris, and who fulfills a role very similar to that of Osiris within some aspects of ancient Egyptian theology, particularly that associated with Memphis which is sometimes known as the "Memphite theology." Further, in ancient depictions of Ptah, he is regularly shown holding a Djed-column scepter, which is a symbol that is also strongly associated with Osiris and with Orion. 

Thus, the possible connection between Ptah and Sahu -- already defensible on linguistic grounds alone -- appears to have further evidence to back it up. 

It can also be noted at this point that Osiris (and other "Osirian" figures in other myth-systems, including Saturn and Kronos) was a deity associated with grain, and with teaching humanity how to cultivate the fields for food (and, in some myths, with teaching humanity to refrain from eating one another as food -- he was a "civilizing" figure in many ancient myths, dwelling on earth and presiding over a Golden Age of peace). Thus, the fact that the Pythagoreans and the Therapeutae were practitioners of vegetarianism suggests that this proposed connection to Sahu in addition to Ptah is defensible from multiple angles.

We can even go so far (although this is, admittedly, wandering rather "far afield") and suggest the possibility that the word Shaman itself may somehow connect back to these shared sounds of Sahu, Tao, JAH, and Ptah. 

It is true that the word Shaman is of Tungusian origin, from a land and a people very far removed from ancient Egypt. And yet, it is equally true that one of the most essential characteristics of the Shaman, in cultures around the world, is his or her role as a healer. That this healing technique almost always involves singing, chanting, and the playing of harmonic flutes or rhythmic drums seems to argue some kind of parallel with the practices attributed to the Pythagoreans and the Therapeutae, and hence the possibility of a linguistic connection between these names is not too outrageous to make. 

It is also well-attested that Shamans around the world express their voyages to the spirit world in terms which are frequently celestial in nature, and in fact the evidence of possible shamanic aspects of ancient Egyptian sacred tradition and of some kind of connection between ancient Egyptian knowledge and shamanic technique found around the world is abundant, and worthy of careful consideration (some of it is discussed in previous posts such as this one and this one).

And so, what we are seeing is that there are strong arguments to be made for a connection between all of these different expressions of ancient wisdom, and of a consistent stream which stretches back deep into the time of ancient Egypt, and which can already be seen to potentially unite some aspects of Taoism, Buddhism, and Shamanic culture. The Therapeutae described in Philo's text appear to be squarely within that ancient stream, and the fact that their sacred texts sometimes express the sacred name in the form JAH can be seen as a connection to PTAH, TAO, and even BUDDHA. 

The chart below shows one way of outlining these connections:

This chart, following the argument of Massey, depicts the different linguistic permutations as being descended originally from the ancient Egyptian name of Ptah, and there are certainly good reasons to decide that ancient Egypt's incredible antiquity argues for Egypt as the original source and fount of all the others. After all, Ptah may be an even more ancient god than Osiris, and Osiris and his myth-series was already fully developed by the time the Pyramid Texts were inscribed, some of the most ancient  texts known to history, some of which were written as early as 2300 BC (which argues that the Osiris myths are even older than that, and the Ptah myths may be older still).

However, it is also certainly possible to posit that all of these different names descended directly from some still more ancient source, and that they all resemble one another only because they all resemble some original name from this now-unknown original source.

The diagram below shows this possibility, and adds yet more names from the world's sacred traditions which may serve to show how widespread and indeed universal this ancient stream really may be:

Here, in addition to the names already discussed, are added several more whose linguistic connections may be disputed, but which are certainly defensible as possibilities under the generally accepted principles of linguistic transmutation of related sounds.

In the first line we see the names PTAH, TAO, JAH and PUT, which have already been discussed. Below these are Pytahgoras, Buddha, and Therapeutae, but also Manitou, which is a name from the Native cultures of North America which can be used to describe both the denizens of the spirit world (the Manitous) but also when singular is used to indicate the Great Spirit.

In the next line below that, we see listed Sahu and Shaman, but also the Native American sacred name Ta-Iowa or Taiowa, which is a name which the Hopi elders used when they passed on their sacred traditions to Frank Waters and Oswald White Bear Fredericks in order to ensure that their ancient wisdom was not lost or forgotten, and which can be found in written form in The Book of the Hopi. The linguistic connections of this name to the sacred name of JAH can hardly be disputed. It is also difficult to ignore the fact that this name has been preserved as the name of one of the United States: the state of Iowa, discussed in this previous post.

These examples from the Native American sacred traditions shows that this stream not only stretches across millennia but that it also spans the globe. It is the stream within which the Therapeutae can be seen to be firmly planted, but from which the literalists such as Eusebius were consciously separating themselves.

That previous post on Iowa and the sacred name also discusses the likelihood that the names of Zeus and Jupiter (or Iu-Pater or Zeus-Pater) fit within this same family of names and can be shown to be linguistically connected to JAH and TA-IOWA.

The implications of all this apparent connection between the sacred myths and sacred scriptures of the world (to include those which ended up in the Bible, but which were radically reinterpreted by the literalists) are indeed profound.

This analysis would suggest that, although they have superficial differences, there are important fundamental connections between the worldviews that are expressed around the globe and across the ages in the messages of the Tao, of the Buddha, of ancient Egypt, of the Pythagoreans, of the Biblical texts esoterically understood, of Greek myth, of Native American spiritual teaching, and of shamanic cultures in general.

It also suggests that all of these traditions emphasize an interconnectedness of all creatures as well as an interconnectedness between individual men and women, and between humanity as a whole, and the rest of the earth and indeed the entire universe, including the invisible realm which flows through the entire universe and every being within it. 

We can also see in many of the specific descriptions and practices of groups such as the Therapeutae, the Pythagoreans, and many expressions of this spiritual stream in Buddhism and Taoism an emphasis on the importance of living in harmony with the invisible flow and energy of the universe, or with the Tao (to use the name given to this concept in one of these related traditions). The knowledge of ways to preserve or restore health to the human body which is obviously very central to many of these related traditions can be seen as a direct and logical aspect of this emphasis on trying to align with and remain in harmony with the energy of the universe or the Tao.

And, indeed, this emphasis can be clearly seen in the stories contained in the New Testament Gospels themselves.

However, although some literalist Christian writers try to argue that groups such as the Therapeutae represent early members of their literalistic system, the similarities are only superficial, and it is clear that the literalists rejected the most important features of the Therapeutae approach, the features that connect the Therapeutae to the wider and deeper current which flows also through the Pythagoreans, the ancient Egyptians, and connects even further to Buddhism and Taoism and to shamanic cultures around the globe.

In setting themselves against this ancient stream, the early proponents of literalism may or may not have realized that they were setting themselves against all of these things. And yet it is quite evident from the above analysis that this is in fact exactly what they did do. 

Because of this, and because of the fact that "western culture" can be seen to be directly descended from and most powerfully influenced by the heirs of Eusebius and the system that they put into motion, it can be clearly demonstrated that modern western civilization today is directly at odds with the flow of the universe in numerous important and world-threatening areas. 

Additionally, it can even be said that modern western society discourages harmony in many ways, and that it contains powerful structures which seem almost purpose-built to hinder individual men and women from aligning themselves with the Tao, and even some which seem purpose-built to actually act to the detriment of the health of their physical bodies in many ways -- the opposite of the goal of healers and healing communities such as the Pythagoreans or the Therapeutae.

And, it can certainly be said that modern western society is built around principles which are basically the exact opposite of the practice attributed to the Therapeutae of giving away their possessions and living with very little "stuff."

If we examine the scriptures themselves, we might ask ourselves which approach seems more in line with those ancient texts: that which resulted from centuries of literalist influence, and which we see manifested in modern western civilization today, or that pursued by the Therapeutae and other communities who lived prior to the rise of literalism, or who were far enough away from the Roman Empire to avoid falling under its sway in the subsequent centuries.

The good news is that, as the analysis above demonstrates rather conclusively (I think), it is really the divisions between us that are artificial: all cultures and all people (including those  whose connection to the ancient wisdom was stamped out by the rise of literalism in Europe during the Roman Empire and in subsequent centuries) are actually connected by this ancient stream, which exhibits different surface characteristics in different places and different time periods, but whose core practices or teachings can almost always be shown to share a few important common features. 

And, whether we recognize it or not, we are all actually connected one to another, as well as to the earth and to the infinite universe, and to the invisible realm which may in fact be the most important element which connects it all.

It is the self-imposed separation initiated by the literalists from the rest of the world's traditions, and from what we could hardly do better than to refer to as "the Tao," which is really the artificial separation, and indeed the illusory separation.

Even the very names show that this separation is an illusion, and that JAH, TAO, PTAH, TA-IOWA, BUDDHA, and all the rest reveal that we are all part of the same stream which flows around and through us all and connects us with one another and with the universe. 

The Therapeutae

image: Wikimedia commons (link).

The ancient philosopher Philo of Alexandria (c. 25 BC or 20 BC - c. AD 50), devotes the bulk of the text in one of his most well-known surviving works, De Vita Contemplativa ("On the Contemplative Life"), to discussing the important group of followers of the ancient Hebrew Scriptures who were known as the Therapeutae.

Some of the aspects of the Therapeutae as described by Philo include the following:

• They lived in ascetic communities which were open to both men and women, although living most of the time separated by sexes and coming together for special meals and celebrations in which all participated.
• Philo tells us that while such communities could be found in many countries, they were most prevalent in Egypt.
• They gave away their possessions and left the bonds of society and of family, not (Philo explains) out of any misanthropy, but rather out of desire to benefit others by giving away their wealth and to be free of "undue care for money and wealth" and to devote their time to the pursuit of holy mysteries.
• They typically sought out desert places in order to retreat from the crowded life of cities and pursue a spiritual path with a balance between solitary contemplation and communal activity.
• They made their dwelling places far enough apart from one another to give themselves plenty of room for solitude and contemplation, but close enough together to be able to defend each other in the case of attack by robbers.
• They held the ancient scriptures in extremely high regard and devoted much of their time to their study.
• They spent much of their time in meditation and prayer, with prayer specifically mentioned as being offered at the time of the rising of the sun and the setting of the same.
• They favored very simple clothing and food, nothing that was expensive or ostentatious.
• They followed a vegetarian diet, bringing nothing to their table (Philo tells us) that has blood.
• They did not drink wine but rather water.
• They fasted regularly, and in fact seem to have fasted throughout the daylight hours each day according to Philo, saving food and drink for after sunset, as well as at times fasting for longer periods, such as three days or even six days.
• They did not use slaves at a time when slavery was commonly accepted, but instead "look[ed] upon the possession of servants or slaves to be a thing absolutely and wholly contrary to nature, for nature has created all men free" and regarded slavery as a product of injustice, covetousness, and evil.
• They had a high regard for singing and sang sacred songs, psalms, or chants, and that they did so with a dignified rhythm and sometimes with men and women all together, forming two choruses which at times sing different parts and at times all sing the same, and at times break into stately forms of dance and choreographic expression to accompany their singing. 

Translations of Philo's text are easily found on the web, where those interested can consult his descriptions for themselves -- one such site can be found here.

Readers who are familiar with some of the texts that have come to be known as the New Testament will recognize some of the characteristics attributed to these Therapeutae in some of the admonitions and recommendations in certain New Testament passages, including the singing of hymns, psalms and sacred psalms (urged in Ephesians 5 and Colossians 3), and the passage in Luke in which Jesus says his disciples must "hate" father and mother and wife and children and brethren (Luke 14:26), which is very similar to Philo's statement that those who left society to join these spiritual communities "desert[ed] their brethren, their children, their wives, their parents, their numerous families, their affectionate bands of companions . . ." 

Indeed, the later author and polemecist Eusebius (c. AD 260 or 265 - AD 339 or 340), who was a bishop in the hierarchical and literalist Christian church, recognizes so much in the descriptions given by Philo that Eusebius states very plainly that these ascetic communities described by Philo represented  the "multitude of believers" converted by the gospel author Mark when he traveled to Egypt: see chapter 16 of Book II of the Ecclesiastical History written by Eusebius (links to all the Books of the work are available online here, and the link to Book II is here). Eusebius further declares in Chapter 17 of Book II (which contains numbered paragraphs -- the paragraph numbers are preserved below in the quotation):

3. In the work to which he gave the title On a Contemplative Life or on Suppliants, after affirming in the first place that he will add to those things which he is about to relate nothing contrary to truth or of his own invention, he says that these men were called Therapeutae and the women that were with them Terapeutrides. He then adds the reasons for such a name, explaining it from the fact that they applied remedies and healed the souls of those who came to them, by relieving them like physicians, of evil passions, or from the fact that they served and worshipped the Deity in purity and sincerity.

4. Whether Philo himself gave them this name, employing an epithet well suited to their mode of life, or whether the first of them really called themselves so in the beginning, since the name of Christians was not yet everywhere known, we need not discuss here.

Eusebius is here plainly declaring that the Therapeutae and Therapeutrides were the first Christians, going by that name prior to the common use of the term "Christian" itself! 

This, Gerald Massey points out (whose arguments regarding the suppression of the original Gnostic nature of the Biblical scriptures by the later literalists was discussed in the preceding post, among other previous posts), is a "fatal admission" on the part of Eusebius, because in arguing that the description given by Philo indicates that the Therapeutae must have been early Christians, and in arguing (as he later does in paragraph 12 of Book II, Chapter 17) that the texts the Therapeutae esteemed so highly were very probably "the Gospels and the writings of the apostles, and probably some expositions of the ancient prophets contained in the Epistle to the Hebrews, and in many others of Paul's Epistles," Eusebius is either completely overestimating the speed with which all those "New Testament" writings were produced (since Philo's description of the Therapeutae was most likely published in AD 40), or else he is inadvertently revealing the truth that all those writings listed were in existence much earlier than AD 40, or were based upon texts that were in existence much earlier than AD 40 (see Massey's Gnostic and Historic Christianity, paragraph 34).

Now, let's examine this argument a little bit. It seems at first to be fairly flimsy: Massey seems to be placing too much weight on the writings of a literalist bishop who was writing sometime around the first two decades of the fourth century (probably completing it prior to AD 323), long after Philo wrote his De Vita Contemplativa. Of course Eusebius could have been making a mistake (or being deliberately disingenuous), so what's the big deal?

And, based on the timeframe of Philo's publication (not later than about AD 50, when Philo died), it would seem that Eusebius was "too hasty" in claiming the Therapeutae as early Christians, and in assuming that the texts they revered and meditated upon must have been early copies of the Gospels and the Epistles. From our perspective in history, it seems very unlikely that the "multitudes" of Therapeutae described by Philo could have possibly had time to spring up and develop the rather rigorous patterns and traditions of ascetic living and worship that Philo describes, and extremely unlikely to the point of impossibility that they could have been doing all that rigorous textual study and exegesis described by Philo upon New Testament texts like the Gospels and Epistles, since virtually no scholar today believes that all of those Christian texts were even written down by the time Philo penned his treatise. Certainly we can ascribe the remarks of Eusebius as simply overly-optimistic or over-zealous, and move on -- right?

And yet Massey, whose analysis often proves to be extremely penetrating, even if there are areas of his analysis with which I strongly disagree, sees in these assertions by Eusebius a "fatal admission" (meaning that Massey believes this admission is "fatal" to the historicist or literalist position which Eusebius held which treats the characters in the scriptures as literal historic persons, and which attacks "pagans," "Platonists," and those who do not share this literalist and historicist version of Christian faith).

Massey does not explain very much further to help us see why this position from Eusebius is so damaging to the historicist approach. He only states by way of explanation that:

it is impossible to claim the Essenic Scriptures [Massey presents arguments to support his conclusion that the Therapeutae and the Essenes were closely related or indeed the same general school] as being identical with the Canonical records, without, at the same time, admitting their pre-historic existence, their non-historical nature, and their anti-historical testimony. They could only be the same in the time of Eusebius by the non-historical having been falsely converted into the historical.

Again, it would seem that the rebuttal that "Eusebius just made an error" would defeat Massey's argument here . . . except for the fact that Eusebius himself identifies the actual actions and practices of the Therapeutae as obviously reflecting the teachings found in the Gospels and Epistles! 

In other words, even if the Therapeutae described by Philo did not have the texts

Eusebius says that they had (and there is no way that they could have, unless those texts were more ancient than the time period during which the Christ of the historicists was said to have lived, which is the possibility that Massey believes is the correct solution), the very fact that these Therapeutae were described by Philo doing things that would later be incorporated in the Gospels and Epistles (a couple examples of which were mentioned above) is a strong indication that the New Testament concepts and teachings pre-dated the historical period during which the literalist Christ is said to have lived. This is especially true because Philo, who probably wrote this treatise by AD 40 and certainly by AD 50, is describing these practices as though they are already long traditions.

This is why Massey believes that the descriptions in Philo's text are so damaging to the literalist position. Massey believes that the literalist approach was a later invention, in fact a subterfuge, through which a group of men converted a "non-historical" (that is to say, "allegorical" or "metaphorical" or "esoteric" or "Gnostic") set of spiritual teachings into a "historical" (that is to say, "literalistic, describing events that literally took place in history") faith. 

And, in fact, we can find some additional extremely interesting aspects of Philo's description of the Therapeutae which appear to add further powerful support to the argument Massey is making regarding the later appropriation by historicists such as Eusebius of teachings or practices that were essentially anti-historical or esoteric and Gnostic.

Interestingly enough, they are the same two characteristics that were argued in the preceding post which declared that the scriptures of the Old and New Testaments of the Bible are essentially shamanic! That is to say, the two features which that post argues generally go together: an understanding of the techniques of what can be termed ecstatic trance or shamanic out-of-body travel, and an understanding that the ancient scriptures of the world (to include those texts found in the Bible) are allegorical in nature and that their allegorical nature is intended to point to this shamanic understanding.

In Philo's description of the Therapeutae, he distinctly says more than once that their long study of the sacred texts, and their group exposition of the meanings of these ancient texts, involved an allegorical approach, and a search for the hidden (or esoteric) meanings in those texts. For example, in his description of their reading and interpretation of sacred writings, Philo says that the Therapeutae would finish their communal meals and then wait in great anticipation and an even deeper and more reverential silence than that with which their conduct is ordinarily marked as they waited for some one of their number to rise and carefully, patiently, and without any attempts at showy eloquence or cleverness, explain the deeper aspects of some passage of their sacred scriptures. The words with which Philo describes their approach to scripture exposition are significant:

the writings are delivered by mystic expressions in allegories, for the whole of the law appears to these men to resemble a living animal, and its express commandments seem to be the body, and the invisible meaning concealed under and lying beneath the plain words resembles the soul [. . .]

The approach to the scriptures as primarily containing mystic expressions in allegories, and the statement that their invisible meaning is concealed under and lies beneath the plain words, could not be more clear in indicating that the Therapeutae understood their sacred texts to be esoteric in nature.

This, all by itself, appears to demolish the attempts by Eusebius at co-opting the Therapeutae described by Eusebius into the literalistic faith that Eusebius and his colleagues were enforcing during the reign of Constantine. The approach as described is the opposite of the historicist approach. It would also seem to be highly unlikely to have developed to the degree described by Philo in such a short time after the publication of early New Testament texts, even if anyone still believed the Therapeutae could have gotten access to those texts at such an early date. The presence of the type of austere communities devoted to perceiving the esoteric meanings behind and beneath the plain words of the texts speaks to the fact that these texts were undoubtedly of great age themselves.

It is also significant that the Therapeutae appear to have contrasted the "plain words" (what is also called the "exoteric" sense of the passage) as perceived on the surface with the "spirit" that is invisible, and to compare the exoteric sense of the words to "a living animal." The metaphor Philo uses (and which he may well have repeated from the Therapeutae themselves) is most telling. Previous posts (such as this one and this one) have noted the penetrating arguments of Alvin Boyd Kuhn, who maintained that the ancient system used the symbol of the Cross in exactly the same way: with the horizontal component of the Cross symbolizing the "animal" nature of our material existence, when we are "cast down" into this physical world, with that horizontal bar running parallel to the ground in the same way that an animal does, and the vertical component of the Cross represents the spirit which is hidden inside each one of us and in fact within all of creation, and which -- while invisible -- is no less real and which is in fact the truly important aspect of our existence which must be remembered, recognized, and "raised back up," so to speak.

And, in a pattern found throughout the world, where allegorical myths can also be shown to be essentially shamanic in nature, these Therapeutae who valued the ability to seek out the invisible meaning of their sacred texts also appear to have valued and practiced the techniques of traveling to what has been called "non-ordinary reality" or by a host of other names, including the Invisible Realm, the Spirit Realm, and the Dreamtime, and brining back communications from that non-ordinary reality.

Philo tells us that among these communities:

Therefore they always retain an imperishable recollection of God, so that not even in their dreams is any other object ever presented to their eyes except the beauty of the divine virtues and of the divine powers. Therefore many persons speak in their sleep, divulging and publishing the celebrated doctrines of the sacred philosophy.

Philo does not go further than this, and at first glance it is easy to simply skip over it as a rhetorical exaggeration on Philo's part, going over-the-top in his idealized description of the Therapeutae to the point of saying that they even dream of only virtuous and spiritual matters (no impure or even simply mundane dreams among this community). 

But, while we might write these lines off as a clumsy and unbelievable embellishment by Philo, he doesn't merely state that they only dream of spiritual and virtuous matters: he states quite clearly that many persons speak in their sleep, and when they do so they divulge sacred matters which might otherwise have remained hidden.

When he adds that detail, it changes the tone of what Philo is saying altogether. He is not simply saying that the Therapeutae are so single-minded that they even dream about spiritual things: he appears to be indicating that many members of their communities regularly enter into a state in which they speak messages divulging hidden teachings. This mode of communication is strongly suggestive of the messages brought from the Invisible World by other practitioners of sacred ecstasy or trance, such as the Pythia of Delphi. 

Philo also states during his descriptions of their communal songs and chants and even dances that the participants seem to enter a state of "intoxication" at times (especially when they are continued all night until sunrise).

Both of these features -- an esoteric approach to sacred scripture, and a regular use of the techniques of ecstatic trance -- have been strongly condemned by the literalistic and historicist Christianity that polemicists such as Eusebius advanced (some might counter that church fathers including Eusebius did not deny the allegorical aspects of scripture, but no one can argue that they would have strongly condemned any suggestion that the scriptures were primarily or even exclusively allegorical, and that they were not intended to be understood literally and historically).

And this evidence appears to be powerful support for Massey's general argument, which is that the historicist bishops and polemicists, such as Eusebius, successfully stamped out a much older approach and co-opted many aspects of its teachings and many of its scriptures and turned them to their own ends.

In fact, Massey provides substantial evidence that the ancient wisdom that was historicized and co-opted by the literalists stretched back into much greater antiquity -- and that it can be clearly seen in some of the most ancient texts and teachings of Egypt in forms which suggest that the outlines of the doctrines of the Therapeutae, and the outlines of the texts that the literalists later appropriated, existed for millennia before showing up in the writings of Eusebius or Philo.

Indeed, it can hardly be denied that many of the features of the Therapeutae lifestyle shown in the list above have not characterized most of what we would recognize as "Christian teaching" through the centuries. 

Christianity is not generally associated, for instance, with vegetarianism. 

Christianity is not widely associated with an emphasis on communal living and the renunciation of possessions and property (with some notable exceptions from time to time). 

Christianity is not historically associated with the rejection of the idea of having slaves or even servants, and the teaching that to do so is evil and contrary to nature (again, with some important exceptions). 

While there are notable historical exceptions, which could be profitably examined and discussed, it cannot be denied that historic, literalistic Christianity has generally taught quite emphatically that the killing of animals for food, the amassing of property, and even the keeping of slaves are all explicitly condoned by the sacred scriptures (not condemned: condoned). 

However, there are some other traditions around the world where the above teachings were widely taught, and practiced, and where they influenced entire cultures and civilizations -- in some places (especially those which were not conquered by the Roman Empire, which by the time of Constantine was increasingly dominated by literalist Christianity) aspects of some of these teachings continue right down to the modern era.

Clearly, the descriptions of the Therapeutae by ancient authors (as well as the possibly-related sect of the Essenes, of whom more at a later time) constitute an extremely profitable line of study, and one which appears to contain powerful evidence to support the theory that a literalist re-interpretation was mistakenly -- or, as other evidence seems to suggest, deliberately and deceptively -- substituted for a far more ancient esoteric approach, and that this switch took place during the first four or five centuries AD within the Roman Empire.

Examining some further aspects of this line of investigation may well turn up some additional surprises, which will be the subject of future posts to follow!

The Bible is essentially shamanic

image: Wikimedia commons (link).

"I was in a deep sleep on my face toward the ground . . . " Daniel 8:18.

Previous posts have been exploring the evidence that many of the events in the Biblical scriptures describe the motions of the celestial realms, in metaphorical language. 

In "Samson and the seven locks of his head," we saw that the Samson series in the book of Judges contain numerous clues pointing to the conclusion that these stories describe the motion of the sun through the signs of the zodiac.

In "The vision of Ezekiel and the Tetramorphs of the Four Gospels," we saw that the vision of Ezekiel described in the first two chapters of the book of the prophet Ezekiel contain details which precisely correspond to the turning of the heavens as modeled in an armillary sphere, complete with "wheels" for the celestial equator, the ecliptic path, and the solstitial and equinoctial colures, and that the wheel of the ecliptic was described as being composed of "strakes," which correspond to the segments of the ecliptic band belonging to each of the signs of the zodiac.

In "The Four Evangelists, and the Cherubim and Seraphim," we explored evidence which suggests that the four evangelists themselves (Matthew, Mark, Luke and John) embody the four first-magnitude stars Regulus, Fomalhaut, Aldebaran, and Antares, and the additional possibility that the cherubim and seraphim described in the Bible correspond to the brightest first-magnitude stars, or perhaps to first-magnitude stars and planets.

And in "The Angel Gabriel," we looked at some of the evidence which points to the conclusion that this angelic messenger corresponds to the planet Mercury, and thus to other divine messengers in other myth-systems, including Hermes, Thoth, and the Norse god Odin, all of whom are associated with crossing the boundaries to the unseen realm, and who are sometimes depicted as bringing messages in dreams, or as bringing the gift of communicating through runes or symbols.

I believe that all of this evidence strongly suggests that the Biblical texts, in common with other sacred texts and stories from around the world, are profoundly shamanic in nature, using celestial imagery and the heavenly realms in general as a metaphor for the unseen realm or spirit world, which shamanic cultures the world over can be broadly shown to understand as intertwining and interpenetrating this physical or material universe, and in fact to be the true source from which our more familiar visible world is actually generated or projected.

The shamanic aspects of the Bible (in common with the other mythologies of the world's cultures) are explored and discussed at length in The Undying Stars, as well as in many previous blog posts such as here and here. This post will examine a few more aspects of this thesis.

First, it is very noteworthy that the visions which in the above-linked discussions can be shown to depict the motions of the celestial realms, as well as other similar visions described in the Biblical texts, are often described in conjunction with the seer of the vision falling into a deep sleep, sometimes with  the additional detail that they are lying with their face to the ground at the onset of the vision.

In each of the visions of Ezekiel, for example, the text (which describes the visions in the first-person perspective) states "I fell on my face," or "I fell down upon my face" as the divine glory which marks the beginning of a vision appears (see Ezekiel 1:28, Ezekiel 3:23, Ezekiel 9:8, and Ezekiel 11:13).

In the book of the prophet Daniel, Daniel is twice described as being in a deep sleep during which he meets an angelic being and has a transcendent vision: in Daniel 8:18 he says, "I was in a deep sleep on my face toward the ground," and in Daniel 10:9 he says, "then was I in a deep sleep on my face, and my face toward the ground."

And, in the extremely important vision of Abram in Genesis 15, we read in verse 12: "And when the sun was going down, a deep sleep fell upon Abram; and, lo, an horror of great darkness fell upon him."

These descriptions of falling into a deep sleep and then obtaining a vision of the spirit world are extremely characteristic of shamanic experience the world over. Similar descriptions can be read again and again in the encylopedic catalog of shamanic technique collected in Mircea Eliade's

Shamanism: Archaic techniques of ecstasy (1951), many of them reported by first-hand observers in previous centuries visiting cultures where shamanic traditions had remained largely undisturbed by modern incursions.

Below is an image from an observer of the shamanic culture of the Sami people of the far northern regions of Scandinavia, showing a noaidi with drum (on the left as we look at the image on the page) and stretched out upon the ground another Sami entering into a state of ecstatic trance:

Other similar drawings depicting Sami techniques of ecstasy, such as the one labeled "Figure 4" a little more than halfway down this webpage discussing the Sami drum (in that drawing, the artist shows the vision of the spirit realm as being populated by demon-figures, probably indicating disapproval on the part of the person making the drawing itself).

The degree to which these images correspond to Biblical verses such as "then was I in a deep sleep on my face, and my face toward the ground" is extremely noteworthy.

In the New Testament as well, there is a passage in 2 Corinthians which appears to refer to an ecstatic experience, and an ecstatic experience by the apostle Paul (although he relates the event in the third person, while including hints that he is describing his own experience). At the beginning of the twelfth chapter, we read:

1 It is not expedient for me doubtless to glory. I will come to visions and revelations of the Lord.

2 I knew a man in Christ above fourteen years ago, (whether in the body, I cannot tell; or whether out of the body, I cannot tell: God knoweth;) such an one caught up to the third heaven.

3 And I knew such a man (whether in the body, or out of the body, I cannot tell: God knoweth;)

4 How that he was caught up into paradise, and heard unspeakable words, which it is not lawful [margin note offers as an alternative translation "possible" rather than "lawful"] for a man to utter.

Based upon this text, as well as a host of other evidence which he discusses in more than one of his essays, poet and esoteric scholar Gerald Massey (1828 - 1907) argued that Paul was actually teaching a doctrine which can broadly be described as Gnostic, meaning that Paul taught an allegorical understanding of the scriptures and that Paul experienced a personal vision of the spirit world on at least one occasion, but that forces during the first four centuries AD supplanted the original Gnostic teachings of Paul and others with a completely different system based upon a literalistic interpretation of the scriptures rather than a Gnostic one.

In an essay entitled "Paul the Gnostic Opponent of Peter, not an Apostle of Historic Christianity

" (Massey uses the term "Historic" to describe those teaching that the scriptures of the Old and New Testaments were intended to describe historic events that took place in literal history), Massey says:

Paul, on his own testimony, was an abnormal Seer, subject to the conditions of trance. He could not remember if certain experiences occurred to him in the body or out of it! This trance condition was the origin and source of his revelations, the heart of his mystery, his infirmity in which he gloried -- in short, his "thorn in the flesh." He shows the Corinthians that his abnormal condition, ecstasy, illness, madness (or what not), was a phase of spiritual intercourse in which he was divinely insane -- insane on behalf of God -- but that he was rational enough in his relationship to them. [. . .] Paul's Christ, the Lord, is the spirit; his gospel is that of spiritual revelation, the chief mode of manifestation being abnormal, as it was, and had been, in the Gnostic mysteries.

The Gnostic Christ was the Immortal Spirit in man, which first demonstrated its existence by means of abnormal or spiritualistic phenomena. It did not and could not depend on any single manifestation in one historic personality. And when Paul says, "I knew a man in Christ," we see that to be in Christ is to be in the condition of trance, in the spirit, as they phrased it, in the state that is common to what is now termed mediumship.

Being in the trance condition, or in Christ, as he calls it, he was caught up to the third heaven, and could not determine whether he was in the body or out of the body. Paragraphs 24 - 26.

Along with these admissions that he is prone to being "caught up" into the state of ecstatic trance, Paul also declares plainly that the stories in the Hebrew Scriptures are intended to be understood as an allegory. 

Writing in the fourth chapter of his epistle to the Galatians, Paul presents an argument in which he explains that the story and circumstances regarding the birth of the two children of Abraham (namely Isaac and Ishmael) are given as an allegory in order to convey spiritual truths, saying:

22 For it is written, that Abraham had two sons, the one by a bondmaid, the other by a freewoman.

23 But he who was of the bondwoman was born after the flesh; but he of the freewoman was by promise.

24 Which things are an allegory: for these are the two covenants; the one from the mount Sinai, which gendereth to bondage, which is Agar.

25 For this Agar is mount Sinai in Arabia, and answereth to Jerusalem which now is, and is in bondage with her children.

26 But Jerusalem which is above is free, which is the mother of us all.

This passage is clearly of tremendous importance. First of all, Paul directly and bluntly states that these events "are an allegory" (Galatians 4:24). Then, he goes on to explain what he believes this allegory was intended to convey to us.

He says that the two women by which Abraham is said to have had the two sons are actually two "covenants." The first woman, Agar (more commonly spelled and referred to as Hagar in most later English translations), actually "is mount Sinai in Arabia," Paul says, "and answereth to Jerusalem which now is, and is in bondage with her children." Then, Paul declares that in contrast to the "Jerusalem which now is, and is in bondage with her children," there is a "Jerusalem which is above" and which is free -- and that this Jerusalem "above" is in fact "the mother of us all."

What could he mean?

In light of the discussion above, and in the posts linked at the beginning of this discussion, and all of the evidence pertaining to the worldwide symbolism of the zodiac wheel and the great cross of the year which depicts a horizontal component representing the spirit or the Djed column "cast down" into material incarnation and a vertical component representing the spiritual nature being called forth and "raised up" again, I believe that this passage from Galatians 4 should be interpreted as follows: 

The two sons of Abraham, one by a bondmaid and the other by a freewoman, are an allegory. They represent two covenants, a word which literally means "coming together" [the prefix co- meaning "with" and related to or shortened from the prefix con-, which is still seen in the Spanish language meaning literally "with," and the word venire in Latin meaning "to come" and seen in other English words such as intervene meaning "come between" and invent meaning to find "come upon," as well as in the Spanish descendant word venir meaning "to come"]. These two "coming togethers" or covenants are, in the zodiac wheel, found at the two points of equinox, where the ecliptic path crosses the celestial equator two times during the year, once at the fall equinox when the sun is on its way down to the winter solstice, and once at the spring equinox when the sun is on its way back up to the summer solstice, the very pinnacle of the year. These two points can be allegorically seen as representing two different births: one of them the birth from the bondswoman, after the flesh, and the other of them the birth from the free woman. If you need me to spell this out to you, the one from the bondswoman which is the birth "after the flesh" is the birth into the material realm, when we take on a physical body, and are born into this human life. On the great cross of the year, and in the allegories of the sacred stories, this takes place at the point of fall equinox, when the heavenly sun passes down into the lower half of the year, representing the experience of each one of us: we are each a heavenly spirit from the unseen realm, sojourning in this material realm for a time. This is what I mean when I say that this birth gives us "the Jerusalem which now is, and is in bondage with her children" -- this is all of us, trapped here in this material realm below, imprisoned within a physical body in order to learn and do and accomplish certain things which could only be accomplished by entering into this realm. But everything here is based upon a heavenly pattern, a spiritual pattern -- everything here contains and reflects and is patterned after and even projected from the other realm, the heavenly realm, the realm of spirit. That is what I mean by the "Jerusalem which is above, and is free." The covenant that marks the beginning of that "upper realm" is of course the spring equinox. A major part of what we are supposed to be doing in while we are toiling through this "lower realm" is to be remembering and recognizing the fact that we  and everyone around us each comes from the spirit realm, from the "Jerusalem above which is the mother of us all," and we are to be elevating and uplifting the spirit in ourselves and in others, and in fact in the entire creation, all of which contains and is interpenetrated with and projected from that unseen world to which we travel when we go "out of the body." Got it?

In other words, it is most significant that the same Paul who tells us that he experiences the ecstatic condition of being "caught up into paradise" also tells us that the scriptural characters and events are actually "an allegory," and that in fact the allegory has to do with the lower realm into which we are born as if into a prison, and the upper realm to which we actually all belong, and which in fact is "the mother of us all." 

The two go together: knowledge of the absolutely central importance of the ecstatic or trance condition (which can also be contacted through dreams and many other methods which are as varied as are the myriad different cultural expressions and experiences of the human race), and knowledge that the sacred stories are allegorical in nature and intended to convey to us the understanding of the importance of the spiritual realm from whence we come and to which we journey when we go into non-ordinary reality.

If that upper realm is the mother of us all, that means that we are all actually "native" to the spirit realm. The scriptures, with their celestial allegories, are meant to tell us that and remind us of that fact. So are the teachings of spiritual seers such as Paul.

The scriptures themselves plainly proclaim that they, along with the other sacred traditions the world over, are in fact shamanic in nature. The broadly shamanic (or broadly Gnostic) understanding of the scriptures was very widespread during the early centuries of Christianity, during the period that the advocates of the historical interpretation were hard at work establishing a literalistic and hierarchical form of Christianity to supplant the Gnostic understanding, and during which the literalist Christian authorities published numerous texts which had as their express central purpose the demonization of the Gnostics and everything that they taught and did. 

Massey also refers to these opponents of Gnosticism, who became the "fathers" of the literalist Christian faith, as "the literalisers" and the "de-Spiritualizers." 

We can see that these two labels place them squarely at odds with Paul himself, who taught an allegorical rather than a literal understanding of the texts, and who taught that the purpose of the allegory was to convey an understanding that is Spiritualizing or broadly shamanic in nature: an understanding of this material universe as being interpenetrated by and indeed generated from an invisible spirit realm, and an understanding of our human nature as being essentially native to the realm of spirit but temporarily plunged into physical incarnation, which is akin to a state of bondage.

This knowledge is extremely uplifting and empowering. It is plainly and abundantly evident throughout the scriptures of the Old and the New Testaments. The only real question we should ask ourselves is why someone would want to suppress it?

Epiphany: revealing the hidden divine nature

image: Wikimedia commons (link).

The traditional celebration of Christmas continues for twelve days, beginning with the midnight birth of Jesus at the juncture between December 24 & December 25 (three days after winter solstice, which generally falls on December 21st most years, as discussed in this previous post) and ending with the celebration of Twelfth Night at the juncture between January 5 & January 6, with its ultimate conclusion celebrated at Epiphany on January 6th. 

Epiphany is a word which means to "show forth" and refers to the revealing of the divinity of the Christ in the gospels stories. 

The word epiphany itself contains the Greek prefix epi- meaning "to" or "towards" or "upon" (and which is found in the word epistle, meaning "a formal written letter or message" which combines the "to" prefix and the verb stellein, "to send;" and in the word epithet, meaning "a title or label given to someone or something," which combines the prefix epi- with the verb tithenai, "to place upon;" and in the word epitaph, meaning "an inscription upon a tombstone," which combines the prefix epi- with the noun taphos or "tomb") and the Greek verb phainein, meaning "to show" (and which is found in the English word diaphanous, meaning "of such a fine texture as to be transparent or translucent," which combines the Greek prefix dia- meaning "through" and the verb phainein meaning "to show").

The same day which is referred to as Epiphany in most western church traditions is referred to as Theophany in the eastern or Greek church traditions, which literally means "the revealing of God" or "the appearance of a god or goddess to a man or woman," from the Greek word theos, "a  god," and phainein, "to show". 

The day of Epiphany is traditionally associated with three specific events in the gospel accounts which have to do with the revelation or recognition of divinity in the Christ: with the visit of the Magi (or "Three Kings," who come and give honor to the Christ child and give symbolic gifts), with the baptism of Jesus by John the Baptist in the Jordan (in which the heavens open up, a voice proclaims "This is my son," and the Spirit descends like a dove), and in the wedding at Cana (in which the first public miracle is performed, in the changing of water into wine).

Some of the esoteric, symbolic, and celestial aspects of the visit of the Magi have been discussed in this previous post. There are indications that the baptism by John the Baptist in the Jordan, and the wedding miracle at Cana, both have celestial foundations as well -- and that their intended meaning concerns not the events of historical personages thousands of years ago, but rather the condition in which every man and woman finds himself or herself during this incarnate, material life.

[The remainder of this post will examine evidence that the stories in the Biblical scriptures were not intended to be understood literally. Those not comfortable examining such evidence may not wish to read further].

We have already examined evidence that the figure of John the Baptist has strong connections with the zodiac sign of Aquarius, a figure who is of course associated with water and the pouring out of water, and also with the beginning of the ascent back up from the lowest point on the "zodiac wheel." We have seen that the constellation of Aquarius in the sky appears as a man carrying a jug or jar of water, in a distinctly pitched-forward posture, with an outstretched forward leg (see star-chart below). 

This leaned-forward posture, we argued in that previous post, was also responsible for the story about John the Baptist losing his head, since when rising in the east his head would still be beneath the horizon when the body has already cleared the horizon, and when setting in the west there would be a point at which his head was still above the horizon when his body had already sunk below it.

That previous post also showed sacred art from centuries ago depicting the beheading of John the Baptist, in which the Baptist is painted in a kneeling, pitched-forward posture, with his hands bound and positioned about where the "forward leg" is located in the constellation above. One could even argue that the beheading legend might also come from envisioning the jug of Aquarius as the severed head of John, with the streams of water transformed into blood in that case (and, it must be admitted, the small diamond-shaped head of the constellation is quite faint, making this view of the constellation a very plausible possibility).

Based on this identification of John the Baptist and Aquarius in these specific episodes, it is certainly likely that the episode of the Baptism of Christ also derives from the figure of Aquarius as identified with John the Baptist, and that the pouring out of water from the vessel carried by Aquarius is the foundation for the baptism of Christ by John. 

And, as it turns out, sacred art has for centuries depicted John the Baptist in the act of baptizing Jesus as having the same distinctive features of the constellation Aquarius, including the position of the legs, the upraised arms and water vessel, and the streams of water flowing down (see for example the image in the fresco at top, painted during the first half of the 1400s).

The constellation directly below the streams of water coming from the jug of Aquarius is the Southern Fish or Piscis Austrinis, which is discussed and shown in star-charts in this previous post from 2012. Interestingly enough, in the sacred art from previous centuries in which John is depicted with features of Aquarius, the figure of Jesus is often portrayed with his hands together in the anjali mudra (see discussion here), which is also a "fish-like" hand gesture and one that is sometimes used to depict a fish swimming in the water in some children's songs that use hand gestures, for example. The fresco at top demonstrates this hand position.

Sometimes, the figure of Jesus is shown as being even more "fish-like" in form, not just with the hand gesture but with the position of the body as well, such as in the image below, painted in 1601:

image: Wikimedia commons (link).

Sometimes, the figure of John is shown as having a long staff, usually surmounted with a cross-piece to make it cruciform: the image above shows such a crucifix in John's hand. This feature probably derives from the outstretched "forward leg" of the constellation Aquarius itself. Below is another image of the baptism scene, this one from the 1500s, in which John is shown with such a cruciform staff:

image: Wikimedia commons (link).

The Aquarius symbology should be evident in all three of the above figures of John the Baptist. The image of the descending dove in between the glowing clouds, present in all three images and in the scripture accounts of the baptism scene, should be evident enough: it is the important constellation Cygnus the Swan, flying "downwards" through the clouds of the Milky Way. Below is an image using the free open-source planetarium application from stellarium.org showing the constellations in question:

As the labels in the diagram indicate, the scripture accounts tell us that the descending Spirit appears and descends when "the heavens opened" -- literally when the heavens were "cloven" or "rent" (like a torn garment). See for example Mark 1:10, where the scriptures read: "And straightway coming up out of the water, he saw the heavens opened [or "cloven" or "rent"], and the Spirit like a dove descending upon him."

You can see from the Milky Way shown in the Stellarium application and the image above that this word "cloven" or "rent" is a very apt descriptor for the Milky Way as it rises up behind Aquarius and as the majestic constellation Cygnus flies "down" it. In fact, this feature of the Milky Way Galaxy which we can see from our observation point on earth is often referred to as the Galactic Rift or the Great Rift. This is almost certainly a clue included in the text to help confirm that the constellations indicated above are those being described.

There are reasons to believe that the Wedding at Cana, in which water is turned to wine, connects to the constellation Aquarius as well (for one thing, Noah was also described in the Old Testament as the first to make wine, and we have already examined evidence that he was associated with Aquariusas well).

It is possible that all these events and episodes actually represent literal and historic events, which just happen to also match up quite precisely to specific constellations that had been positioned in the sky long before they ever happened. It is also possible to argue that these events were foreseen and then were "pre-figured in the stars." 

However, both of these explanations are more difficult to maintain due to the fact that multiple scriptural accounts appear to match up to the same constellations. 

It appears much more likely that these scriptures, just like myths from virtually every ancient culture around the globe, were not actually intended to preserve literal and historical events which took place on planet earth, but that they are exquisitely-crafted celestial allegories designed to convey esoteric truths. If multiple stories around the world, and multiple stories within the Old and New Testaments themselves, can be shown to derive from the very samesets of constellations, then a very likely explanation is that the same constellations gave rise to many different esoteric myths which "dress up" those constellations in different ways, in order to convey profound knowledge which is difficult to grasp except through metaphor.

If so, then what could this series of stories connected with the Epiphany (or Theophany) be trying to convey?

For a possible answer, consider again the quotation from a 1936 lecture by esotericist Alvin Boyd Kuhn, cited in this previous post and discussed further in the subsequent post on the Three Kings (who are also closely associated with the Epiphany), in which Kuhn asserts:

The Bible is the drama of our history here and now; and it is not apprehended in its full force and applicability until every reader discerns himself [or herself] to be the central figure in it! The Bible is about the mystery of human life. Instead of relating to the incidents of a remote epoch in temporal history, it deals with the reality of the living present in the life of every soul on earth.

In other words, the Epiphany is about the mystery of human life, and it is not apprehended in its full force and applicability until you realize that you yourself are the central figure in it! 

The baptism scene, with its recognition or revelation of the divinity in the one whom the scriptures describe as descending into incarnate form, and then being "placed beneath the waters" in the baptism scene, describes and depicts the condition of every human soul which has plunged into incarnation, when we leave the realm of spirit (the realm of the upper elements of "air" and "fire") to be clothed in a body of "clay" -- that is, a body composed of the lower elements of "earth" and "water" (seven-eighths water, as we have been told).

These stories convey the message that each and every one of us carries within us a divine spark, which has been plunged into the water and obscured inside our material form. Immersed in this world of physicality and materiality, it is all too easy to be completely blinded to that "invisible realm" or realm of spirit, and to live as though we are completely material beings, denying or forgetting our spiritual nature altogether. One of the purposes of these texts is to cause us to remember -- and one of the purposes of the celebration of Epiphany, it seems, is to help us to remember that we ourselves, and every single human being we ever encounter, contain a "hidden god," a divine spark.

Although some of the centuries-old traditions and ceremonies which have accompanied the celebration of Epiphany in many cultures may not be familiar to all readers, many of them are very powerful and are still carried out to this day in some communities. Many of these old traditions seem to imply the message of the plunge of the divine spark into matter, where it is hidden, and where it must be found and then "raised up."

One of these is the ritual known as the Blessing of the Waters, in which a cross is taken to the ocean, or to a lake or large river, and immersed in the waters. In his masterful 1940 text Lost Light, Alvin Boyd Kuhn explains that the cross itself is a symbol of the incarnate condition of every man and woman in this material life: we have a physical component, represented by the horizontal bar of the cross, and a spiritual component, represented by the vertical bar of the cross. 

The placing of the cross into the waters represents our plunge into the material realm: the raising up of the cross from the waters represents the recognition or revelation of the divine nature which can be hidden and even forgotten but which can never be completely denied. One of our important missions in this life is to recognize and elevate this divine spark in ourselves, in others, and indeed in all of creation around us. Epiphany, which takes place on our annual cycle when the sun begins to climb back up out of the deep pit of winter solstice, is marked by rituals which convey this important task.

In many cultures, the cross is actually flung into the water, where youths then rush to be the first to find it and retrieve it -- raising it up from the depths. This ritual continues every year to this day. Below is a video showing one such ceremony, in a community within the Greek Orthodox faith (where Epiphany is called Theophany):

Alvin Boyd Kuhn gives his explication of the symbolism of the cross and the water -- and he makes clear that the cross has also long been used as a symbol in many "non-Christian" traditions, including those of the ancient Egyptians and of many of the cultures of the Americas:

In a very direct sense the cross is connected with the flood of water that must be crossed, with the baptism and the lower sea voyage. [. . .] This most ancient, perhaps, of all religious symbols (by no means an exclusive instrument of Christian typology) was the most simple and natural ideograph that could be devised to stand as an index of the main basic datum of human life -- the fact that in man the two opposite poles of spirit and matter had crossed in union. The cross is but the badge of our incarnation, the axial crossing of soul and body, consciousness and substance, in one organic unity. An animal nature that walked horizontally to the earth and a divine nature that walked upright crossed their lines of force and consciousness in the same organism. [. . .]

The Toltecs called the cross the Tree of Sustenance and the Tree of Life. [. . .] The cross is a symbol of life, never of death, except as "death" means incarnation. It was the cross of life on earth because its four arms represented the fourfold foundation of the world, the four basic elements, earth, water, air, and fire, of the human temple, and because it was an emblem of the reproduction of new life, and thus an image of continuity, duration, stability, an eternal principle ever renewing itself in death. The whisperings of esoteric fable report that the very tree on which Jesus was hanged was grown from a sprout or seed from the forbidden Tree of Life in Genesis! There are many instances of the cross burgeoning into fresh life. The savior is not nailed on the tree; he is the tree. He unites in himself the horizontal human-animal and the upright divine. And the tree becomes alive; from dead state it flowers out in full leaf. The leaf is the sign of life in a tree. The Egyptians in the autumn threw down the Tat cross, and at the solstice or the equinox of spring, erected it again. The two positions made the cross. The Tat is the backbone of Osiris, the sign of eternal stability. And Tattu was the "place of establishing forever." 414 - 416.

This passage explains that the ritual of throwing down the cross and raising it back predates literalist Christianity as it was formulated in the first through fifth centuries AD. It was a ritual in ancient Egypt associated with the Djed-column (Kuhn uses the form Tat, the older version of writing this same word in our lettering system -- today it is more commonly written as Djed). In fact, Kuhn explains that the Egyptians had a legend in which Isis lost the Tat column in the sea (Lost Light, 420-421) as well as a ritual in which they cast it down into the waters of the Nile (page 306). Also, in the video above you can see that the cross thrown into the water to be brought up again is wreathed in leaves, which relates well to Kuhn's discussion cited above about the cross blossoming with leaves as a sign of life.

After reading this and watching the video, the centuries-old paintings and frescoes showing John the Baptist in the river scene carrying a wooden staff in the form of a cross become even more full of powerful meaning.

Kuhn argues that the ritual of throwing down the cross into the waters and raising it up again represents the divine spark in each of us, thrown down into incarnation and hidden, which we must recognize and elevate. The rituals in which one swimmer finds the cross and brings it up, and then is recognized as special for the entire year, seems to drive home the lesson that "every reader [must] discern himself [or herself] to be the central figure" in the myth or sacred drama. In a very real sense, the concept of the epiphany or the theophany is "all about you" -- you are the "star" of the show, just as the swimmer who lifts up the cross first is the "star" of the drama for that year.

Other traditions from Epiphany or Theophany around the world which emphasize the same message include the tradition of baking a single black bean into a cake: the feast guest who finds the bean in his or her piece is "king" or "queen" for the festival. This again speaks to the symbolism of the "hidden god" or the "hidden divinity" inside each man and woman: this is the message of our human incarnation, conveyed in all the ancient scriptures of the world, according to this interpretation.

And here we return to the fact that in the paintings above showing the Baptism of Jesus, which is associated with Epiphany or Theophany or the revelation of his divine nature, the figure of Jesus is depicted with his hands in the distinctive position of "prayer," associated with the word "Amen" in Christian tradition, and with the benediction "Namaste" in India and other cultures.

This previous post explored the fact that the word "Namaste" means "I bow to you," and by extension "I bow to the divinity in you," and even "The divinity in me recognizes and acknowledges the divinity in you." Similarly, the word "Amen" which is associated with this very same position of the hands is the name of the ancient Egyptian god "Amun" or "Ammon" or "Amoun" -- the hidden god.

This confluence is most appropriate for Epiphany, in which the hidden divine nature is revealed.

We could go on and on contemplating the amazing and profound truths which this examination opens up for us to explore. However, one practical application which seems to be something we can think about every day (and one that I am working on in my own life) is the concept of blessing and not cursing. If we take seriously the fact that every man and woman we meet is possessed of an internal divine spark, then we should want to look at them with positive intentions, seeing beyond the physical and material and "animal" responses we might have when -- for example -- they cut us off in traffic (or stop at a green light long enough to get through it themselves and cause us to miss it).

It may seem strange at first, but reacting to such a situation with real thoughts of blessing towards them produces a whole different set of reactions than reacting with cursing (even if they never even know what was going through your mind or said in your car).

And there are many more applications much more profound than that one.

Previous posts have explored the definition of blessing as being related to the recognition and elevation of spirit, in ourselves, in other people, in animals and plants and streams and rocks and in entire the rest of the material universe.

And the concept contained in the ancient scriptures and traditions regarding Epiphany -- not just in the New Testament scriptures but in the sacred traditions of ancient Egypt and in other ancient cultures around the world -- seem to be pointing us in the very same direction.

Remains of an ancient Egyptian Djed-column (or "Tat cross" as Alvin Boyd Kuhn and other earlier writers usually refer to it), Wikimedia commons (link).

The Judgment of Solomon

image: Wikimedia commons (link).

In the book of the ancient Hebrew scriptures generally known today as the First Book of the Kings or simply 1 Kings, we find the account of the following famous incident:

16 Then came there two women, that were harlots, unto the king, and stood before him.

17 And the one woman said, O my lord, I and this woman dwell in one house; and I was delivered of a child with her in the house.

18 And it came to pass the third day after that I was delivered, that this woman was delivered also: and we were together; there was no stranger with us in the house, save we two in the house.

19 And this woman's child died in the night; because she overlaid it.

20 And she arose at midnight, and took my son from beside me, while thine handmaid slept, and laid it in her bosom, and laid her dead child in my bosom.

21 And when I rose in the morning to give my child suck, behold, it was dead: but when I had considered it in the morning, behold, it was not my son, which I did bear.

22 And the other woman said, Nay; but the living is my son, and the dead is thy son. And this said, No; but the dead is thy son, and the living is my son. Thus spake they before the king.

23 Then said the king, The one saith, This is my son that liveth, and thy son is the dead: and the other said, Nay; but thy son is the dead, and my son is the living.

24 And the king said, Bring me a sword. And they brought a sword before the king.

25 And the king said, Divide the living child in two, and give half to the one, and half to the other.

26 Then spake the woman whose the living child was unto the king, for her bowels yearned upon her son, and she said, O my lord, give her the living child, and in no wise slay it. But the other said, Let it be neither mine nor thine, but divide it.

27 Then the king answered and said, Give her the living child, and in no wise slay it: she is the mother thereof.

28 And all Israel heard of the judgment which the king had judged; and they feared the king: for they saw that the wisdom of God was in him, to do judgment.*

This scene, of course, is referred to as "The Judgment of Solomon," and is usually viewed as the premier example of his famous wisdom and discernment. It is recounted immediately after a passage in which Solomon has a dream after sacrificing upon the great high place of Gibeon, in which the LORD appears to him, and asks Solomon what Solomon desires to be given from God; Solomon asks for wisdom, saying:

7 [. . .] I am but a little child: I know not how to go out or come in.

8 And thy servant is in the midst of thy people which thou has chosen, a great people, that cannot be numbered nor counted for multitude.

9 Give therefore thy servant an understanding heart to judge thy people, that I may discern between good and bad: for who is able to judge this thy so great a people?

This scene directly parallels the famous Judgment of Paris in the Greek myths, in which Paris did not choose wisdom, and the result was the Trojan War and tremendous grief, loss of life, and ensuing tragedy for the survivors and their families. In this dream sequence, Solomon does ask for wisdom, and is told: 

11 [. . .] Because thou has asked this thing, and hast not asked for thyself long life; neither hast asked riches for thyself, nor hast asked the life of thine enemies; but hast asked for thyself understanding to discern judgment; 

12 Behold, I have done according to thy words: lo, I have given thee a wise and an understanding heart; so that there was none like thee before thee, neither after thee shall any arise like unto thee.

13 And I have also given thee that which thou hast not asked, both riches, and honor: so that there shall not be any among the kings like unto thee all thy days.

After hearing this, we are told that Solomon awoke, and made offerings (verse 15). Immediately after that verse comes the scene of the judgment between the two harlots described above, which begins with verse 16. Clearly, the judgment between the two harlots directly following the dream and the granted request for discernment are meant to be considered together in the scripture passage, and the judgment scene is given as the powerful illustration of the discernment granted to the king.

I believe there are many indications in this passage that, like nearly all of the sacred stories of the ancient wisdom found all the way around our planet, the accounts of King Solomon found in ancient scripture are intended to be understood esoterically and not literally or historically. The celestial foundation of many other stories in the scriptures of what we today call the Bible, as well as the celestial story of many stories from the sacred myths and traditions of many other cultures, has been demonstrated repeatedly in previous posts listed here -- and can be demonstrated for many, many more. 

There are strong clues that this story of the Judgment of Solomon is also part of this ancient worldwide pattern.

First, it is notable that in the passage of the dream-encounter at Gibeon in which he asks for wisdom that Solomon says "thy servant is in the midst of thy people which thou hast chosen, a great people, that cannot be numbered nor counted for multitude" (verse 8). This in spite of the fact that the children of Israel are often described as being outnumbered by their enemies and usually prevail in battle only by divine favor and against all that one would expect from a merely human or physical consideration. 

In other words, if the scriptures of the Old Testament are supposed to be literal history, then Solomon's description would seem to be somewhat contradictory to the situation as usually described. However, the description itself gives us a hint to ask whether this passage is really talking about historical people. The language in this verse distinctly invokes the stars of the sky: if these passages are actually describing events which take place in the heavens, then it is appropriate to say that Solomon stands "in the midst" of a people who "cannot be numbered or counted for multitude." Of course, this passage also hearkens directly back to the promise given to Abraham, that his descendants would be as the stars in the heavens -- if it is even possible to number them (Genesis 15:5, and many subsequent verses throughout the Hebrew scriptures after that).

Also, immediately after the passage describing the Judgment of Solomon, we are told that "Solomon had twelve officers over all Israel, which provided victuals for the king and his household: each man his month in a year made provision" (1 Kings 4:7). It can be amply demonstrated that the "twelve disciples of Jesus" and the "twelve tribes of Israel" are connected to the twelve signs of the zodiac in the wheel of the year. However, most people may not know that Solomon also has his own group of twelve: in this case, his "twelve officers over all Israel." As an added clue that these "twelve officers" are of a league with the twelve disciples and the twelve tribes, the verse informs us that each of the twelve "made provision" in his own moth of the year.

Thus, the famous Judgment itself is "sandwiched" between passages which contain clues indicating that we are dealing with celestial realities here, and not necessarily with literal history.

Examining the passage itself, the presence of a swordsman in this story might cause us to think back to another story in which a king is depicted raising a sword up -- the story from the Arabian Nights which was examined in two previous posts, here and here (spoiler alert: those two posts were presented as a kind of "puzzle" for the reader to figure out -- if you want to analyze the story from the Arabian Nights, you might want to go read those two posts in the order linked here before you read further in this post, since the discussion below will probably "give away" the celestial connections found in that story from the Arabian Nights, or at least give away my own particular interpretation of those connections).

Let's examine a portion of the night sky in which we find a figure raising a menacing weapon of some sort -- a weapon which is often interpreted as a club, but which could just as easily be seen as a sword: the constellation Hercules. Not far away from this looming figure with his upraised sword, we find a constellation whose connection with a mother and an infant is very well-established, in numerous ancient myths: the constellation Virgo. Between these two, we find the constant companion of Virgo, the "seated figure" of Bootes the Herdsman, as well as the arc-shaped crescent of stars known as the Northern Crown, or Corona Borealis.

I believe these constellations could very well correspond to the players in the Judgment of Solomon. 

First, the constellation Virgo is almost certainly the mother (either one of them or both of them). We have seen evidence that the distinctive outstretched arm of Virgo, marked by the star Vindemiatrix, was anciently envisioned as a mother nursing a newborn infant -- including in artwork from ancient Egypt depicting Isis and the infant Horus, as well as the accounts of the Virgin Mary and the infant Jesus (and see the discussion of the Manger or Nativity scene from the New Testament in this video).

At first, I thought that the figure with the upraised sword might correspond to Solomon himself, and that would mean that the large-headed figure of Bootes might be the baby, since babies have fairly large heads in relationship to their bodies. However, if you read the passage closely, you will see that the king is clearly giving commands to someone, first to "Divide the living child in two," and then to stop and not slay the child after all -- and from this we can conclude that he is not the one wielding the sword (unless Solomon was given to talking to himself, which would render the scene somewhat more frightening than it already is). 

So, the figure of Hercules probably does not correspond to the king, but rather to the swordsman to whom Solomon is speaking in the passage. This means that Bootes is most likely King Solomon in this star myth -- and we have to then figure out who is the baby.

Interestingly enough, there is a clear tradition in artwork down through the centuries which depicts characters in these stories as having the distinctive characteristics associated with the constellations. This fact is extremely remarkable, and worthy of deep study by art historians. Who has been passing on these esoteric traditions to artists down through the centuries? 

We can see evidence of the clear correspondence between artistic renditions and the outlines of constellations in some of the previous discussions of star myths, such as the art shown in the discussion of Abraham's near-sacrifice of Isaac, the depiction of the daughter with outstretched arm and her timbrel in the horrible story of Jepthah's daughter, the depictions down through the centuries of the episode of the drunken Noah and his three sons, some of the depictions of the beheading of John the Baptist (see the one at the bottom of this post, in which aspects of the constellations Aquarius, Perseus, and Virgo are all clearly depicted in the three figures in the painting), and many others. 

In artwork depicting the Judgment of Solomon down through the centuries, Solomon is very commonly depicted as seated, with one arm extended -- a clear parallel to the outline of Bootes, who is seated and who has a long "pipe" coming out of his mouth, which could also be envisioned as his arm extended and pointing forward. 

The living infant is often depicted as being held firmly by the swordsman who is menacing it, and as it is held (often by the ankle), it is arching its back strongly (as infants often do) -- see for instance the depiction of the scene at the top of this post. This arched aspect of the living child in the artistic depictions of the story is the clue that tells us that, at least according to the traditions apparently present in sacred artwork down through the centuries, the living infant was associated with the constellation of the Northern Crown, which is arching strongly just beneath the upraised sword of Hercules and which can easily be envisioned as being dangled by Hercules from his extended forward hand (the hand that isn't holding the upraised sword):

The celestial aspects of the figures in the artwork shown at the top of this post should be fairly clear to the viewer -- the Hercules figure of the swordsman, the Bootes characteristics of the king on his throne, the mother with outstretched arm, and the arching infant:

The actual outline of the arc of the constellation Corona Borealis (the Northern Crown) has here been superimposed upon the artist's depiction of the living baby dangled by the swordsman, in order to show the remarkable correlation between the child and the starry outline.

In order to show that these distinctive "constellation characteristics" are present in the artwork depicting this famous judgment scene down through the centuries, below are a few more examples of artists' depictions of the episode from this passage of scripture (look especially for the arching baby, the outstretched arm of the mother, and the pointing arm of the seated king, as well as the upraised sword of the swordsman):

image: Wikimedia commons (link).

image: Wikimedia commons (link).

image: Wikimedia commons (link).

The above images should pretty well establish the fact that at least someone down through the ages has seen this episode of the Judgment of Solomon as representative of the celestial events played out by the constellations Hercules, Bootes, Virgo, and Corona Borealis! Together, they are powerful evidence that the larger thesis described in this blog and in the book The Undying Stars -- that the stories of the Bible (together with the myths of nearly every other culture on earth) -- actually describe the actions of heavenly players upon the stage of the celestial dome of the sky.

But we would be remiss if we discussed this incredibly powerful story without at least meditating briefly upon the meaning that these precious texts were actually trying to convey to us. If they were not actually intended to record an event that happened in literal history, then what were they intended to record?

I believe that the quotation from Alvin Boyd Kuhn, cited at the end of this previous post and discussed again in this previous post, may help to guide our consideration of these profound ancient writings. 

There, an address entitled "The Stable and the Manger" is cited, in which Kuhn asserts:

The Bible is the drama of our history here and now; and it is not apprehended in its full force until every reader discerns himself [or herself] to be the central figure in it! The Bible is about the mystery of human life. Instead of relating to the incidents of a remote epoch in temporal history, it deals with the reality of the living present in the life of every soul on earth.

In other words, Solomon is a representation of each and every soul on earth, as are the other circling celestial players who daily enact their drama of rising into the heavens and the plunging down below the horizon, over and over in endless succession. The plunge (or the Fall) was seen as representative of our own plunge from the realm of spirit into the realm of matter -- depicted by the star's journey "between the horizons," in the realm of matter which each star and constellation encounters when it sets in the west and toils down here in "the underworld" before ascending again into the unencumbered realm of the sky (and pure spirit). 

And what is our task here in this difficult journey through "the underworld" of incarnation, in which we each find ourselves? 

Well, Solomon's dream, recounted above and placed immediately prior to the famous judgment scene, tells us quite plainly: it is not to "ask for ourself long life," neither for riches nor for power over our enemies, but rather "for understanding to discern judgment." We come here, the ancient scriptures seem to be saying, in order to seek wisdom (see previous postsregarding the famous ancient Oracle at Delphi, which was traditionally held to bear the inscription commanding "Know thyself"). If we seek after that, the other good things might well be added, but (as the disastrous Judgment of Paris warns us), to seek them first instead of pursuing wisdom is not recommended.

Lest some astute reader point out that this post's assertion that the ancient traditions tell us that seeking wisdom is our central mission seems to contradict other posts which argue that the ancient traditions tell us that blessing is our central mission, that apparent contradiction is easily reconciled. As the posts discussing the injunction "Know thyself" make clear, the ancient traditions seem to imply that seeking wisdom has to do with recognizing our true nature as spirit plunged into matter, and then in elevating spirit in ourselves and the world around us -- in other words, the very thing that the concept of blessing entails.

The wisdom we are talking about, in fact, is not necessarily wisdom for solving problems, despite the fact that the example of Solomon's Judgment seems to be a "problem-solving" example. But this episode is metaphorical, meant to convey higher truths and not simply recount a literal historical event. In the Judgment of Solomon, one mother wants to impart and preserve life -- even if it means giving up her child to another woman who is not the child's mother. The other harlot is happy to have the child cut in two -- even after the actual mother of the child screams out to give the baby to the other harlot (which doesn't actually make much sense, if you think about it: the real mother has just conceded the child, in verse 26, which is what the deceitful mother apparently wanted in the first place, and before the king even says anything, the deceitful mother says, "Forget that -- I didn't really want the child -- cut it up instead -- even though a minute ago I was trying to get custody of the same child, and the mother just said I could have it"). 

At one level, these two mothers can be seen as representative of the constant tension we face between life-giving blessing, and all that it entails, and the constant temptation to deny the divine spark in ourself and others, to give in to the physical, to objectify and to deaden -- in the words of Simone Weil in her famous 1940 essay, the impulse which, "exercised to its limit, [. . .] turns man into a thing in the most literal sense: it makes a corpse out of him" (6). 

This story seems to be saying that, if each sacred myth is really the story of each and every soul here in this physical incarnation, we are supposed to be somehow elevating that life-giving impulse -- bringing out and lifting up the "true mother" within our own personal domain (within ourselves, that is): the one who is giving, and selfless. We should also be trying to lift up and elevate this principle in the world around us, but without violating the proper "kingdoms" of all the other individuals around us, each of whom is his or her own Solomon (or, we might say, his or her own "Solomon-Sheba," since Solomon is paired up with the Queen of Sheba in a type of alchemical wedding that is beyond the scope of this particular essay; Sheba herself represents Wisdom, and her name "Sheba" [or "Seba"] invokes the number seven, which is directly related to Wisdom in Proverbs 9:1).

I believe it is very important to realize that, while each of us are supposed to see in Solomon-Sheba our own condition in this life ("I am but a little child: I known not how to go out or come in [. . .] Give therefore thy servant an understanding heart"), we must also recognize that everyone around us is also properly a Solomon-Sheba in charge of his or her own personal Temple of body, mind and spirit. Thus, it is appropriate to present evidence to others in order to give them as much good information to help them in their judgments as possible, but their judgments must be up to them (as long as they do not decide to go violate the temple of our body through violence, that is).

As a very practical example, I believe that the evidence that I myself have found regarding the celestial foundation of the Biblical scriptures and the other sacred traditions around the world is appropriate to present to those who are seeking this information, as they "make judgments" within the palace of their own minds, but it is absolutely not appropriate for me to tell them how they should ultimately judge. 

And I believe this principle applies in just about every other matter: we can offer evidence and arguments, especially if asked for our counsel, but to insist that another "judge" or "rule" on any matter in a way that we dictate is to violate their "kingdom" (again, the main exception would be cases in which someone's judgments lead them to acts of violence which violate natural or universal law -- we have every right to insist that others must not do physical violence to others or to ourselves, and while we can debate the extent of this prohibition, I believe it extends to prohibiting violence done to animals and to the natural world as well).

But, to the extent that others do not "invade," I think we must recognize them as their own King Solomon (and Queen of Sheba), just as we ourselves should recognize ourselves in this story, and the profound messages it has for us. It urges us to recognize the real nature of this physical existence: one that includes a spirit component, and that is not just lifeless matter. And it urges not just to recognize the life-giving force exemplified by the loving mother, the selfless mother, the compassionate mother, but to elevate that principle, to bring it out when it is hidden or obscured, to lift it up and exalt it in our own "court" and -- as much as is in our power, without violating the rights of others -- in the world around us as well. 

--------------------------

* 1 Kings 3: 16 - 28 (italics in the translation to indicate words not found in the original Hebrew text but added by the translators in order to soften the idiom or express it in a way more amendable to the way it would commonly be expressed in English).