The Trust Mind

Hundreds of years before the life of Jesus of Nazareth, the mystics of Greek Hellenismos understood Humanity’s spiritual development as a growth into engagement with certain fundamental natural forces. Aphrodite, for example, was represented as a beautiful woman, but as a god mediated between humanity and the force of attraction, which manifests as much in gravitation as it does in sensual desire. Following the era of the Titans and Olympians, the aim of the mystics was to usher in the age of Dionysius, allowing men to interact directly with the principles. In other words, for us to become gods.

When this truth was first revealed to me, the speaker admitted that in the modern era, we view Dionysius, the “party god”, as an unlikely avatar. We view alcohol as a vice, but the Greeks saw it as a tool. When we are drunk, we “lose our inhibitions.” That may manifest itself in a tendency to orgy, but at a deep spiritual level reflects the loosening of the protective barriers around our souls. We surrender ourselves to trust, and so relate more freely and deeply than we would otherwise. (See this post by Irwin Osbourne for more on this experience.)

The power of this relation can be abused. Megalomania is one pathology. In “Ray”, the film biography of Ray Charles, one scene reconstructs a set in which a horn player stands up to take an impromptu solo in the middle of a number. The man was dismissed, not because he violated the integrity of the rendition, but because Ray recognized intuitively that the man was on heroin. Accused of hypocrisy, Charles’s retort was that he had to be the only one. A second pathology is dependency. In graduate school, a friend shared his experience of a teacher who drank incessantly, and actually could do chemistry well only in that state. It took me a while to figure out how to suggest that maybe the teacher wasn’t doing the thinking at all – that the alcohol enabled him to inject himself into a community of minds that tolerated his needs.

There are other methods to achieve this integration. A young woman can be almost suicidal in her disposition to trust the men that she desires, and when that is manifested in sexual license, she may serve as the pool in which men join. Junger’s book “War” documents the characteristics of men that survive constant threat only by surrendering themselves to trust in each other.

There is enormous power in such melding, but the methods listed above cannot be sustained by our physiology. The licentious woman becomes corrupted by masculine demons, and loses her beauty. Substance abuse drives our metabolism into pathways that destroy our health. And war is a process that no one escapes without harm, even if it is hidden deep in the soul behind a stoic mask.

It is for this reason that opens with this statement:

Love dissolves the barriers of time and space, allowing wisdom, energy and understanding to flow between us, and embracing us with the courage, clarity and calm that overcomes obstacles and creates opportunities. When we open our hearts to one another, there is no truth that is not revealed, and to those that love themselves, no impulse to harm that cannot be turned to the purposes of healing and creation.

As a Christian, I see the ultimate human manifestation of this truth in the march of Jesus of Nazareth to the cross. And behind that sacrifice, I must see the yearnings of a perfect and unconditional love that invests itself in the realization of that truth in our lives.

But when picking up the Bible, it doesn’t take long to reach contradictory evidence. Taking Eden as a metaphor for a relationship of trust between the source of love and humanity, that trust is corrupted by the serpent, which appeals fundamentally to human selfishness. In God, we were gods, but Eve is encouraged [NIV Gen. 3:5] to “be like God, knowing good an evil.” For this breach of trust, Adam and Eve are dismissed from the garden, and punishments are heaped upon them.

What was so heinous about their crime? Was it worse than the slaying of Abel, for which Cain was allowed a lifetime of repentance? And what is so important about us that God would give Jesus as a sacrifice to the goal of our redemption?

To understand this, we have to understand the nature of thought. We have succumbed in the modern age to scientific materialism, and so hold that thought occurs in the brain. I know this not to be true: I relate frequently to thinking beings that have no bodies and no brains, and so must recognize that my brain is merely an interface to my soul. To facilitate the expression of will through my body, the operation of the brain must correlate completely with the thinking done by my spirit.

Thus I interpret “In the image of God he created them” [NIV Gen. 1:27] in this way: our bodies are a tool through which we manifest the will of our souls and – given the quote above – they operate most effectively when used to express love.

The problem is that every interface is a two-way street. While through our commitment to creative expression, we can bring truth and beauty into the world, the opposite can occur. In the experience of pain and suffering, we project thoughts back into God. In the expression of greed and lust, we corrupt the purity of love. This is articulated many times in the Bible: consider Noah, Exodus and Ezekiel. Rather than being remote and impervious, God suffers from our wrong-doing. The flood is thus a desperate move to rid himself of the irritation, as is the destruction of the Holy City through the witness of Ezekiel. While horrifying to us as humans, we might imagine that so must the bacterium feel when confronting the operation of the immune system.

The error of the Law is to interpret these actions as a judgment, as an evidence of sin. They are not. The effect is to destroy the material manifestations of the success of selfishness, revealing its sterility. They are actions taken to frustrate selfish personalities that attempt to prevent love from liberating and healing their abused captives.

This is “The Knowledge of Good and Evil” that brings death into the world. Lacking appreciation of the virtues of love, we chose not to trust in love. We demanded understanding. But understanding is gained only through experience, and experience requires expression of both good and evil. We are educating ourselves.

In the end, Christ gathers those that chose good into the fold of the perfect love that originates from the divine source. We join our shared memory and wisdom into a single holy mind, and heal the world of the disease of selfishness. Thus I do not interpret the Crucifixion as atonement for our sins. Rather, I believe it should be seen as a surrender to trust in love, a struggle waged most fiercely in the Garden of Gethsemane, and redeemed by the proof of the power of love in the Resurrection. Rather than an indictment of our frailty, it is meant to be an exhortation to manifest our own forms of greatness.

Trust in yourselves. Trust in love. Welcome yourselves into the Holy Spirit, the mind formed when that trust is perfected in us.

Authority in Scriptural Interpretation

Since I have taken on a pet peeve with the “rational”, let me raise one against people of faith.

In arguments of scriptural interpretation, it is all too convenient to claim the authority of God. This was certainly the case during the ministry of Jesus. It was a claim made by the Temple priests and the Pharisees. While Jesus offered parables of counsel to the learned, he also railed against their role in dividing the people from direct relation with God. In part, it was his effort to free the Hebrews from the mistaken “authority” of human consensus that led Jesus to the cross.

We should contrast this with the experiences described in Acts 3. The authority of Jesus is manifested in Peter through the miracle of healing. Peter attained this capacity, as recorded in Matthew 10, directly from Jesus himself. His understanding came through direct revelation. It is clear, in the intervening ages, that few of us attain that same capacity. We have been men teaching men, and something was lost in the transfer through the generations.

Now in Acts 3, the Pharisees and priests are afraid to take action against Peter because they see that the people are moved to God by the power of the grace that moves through Peter. This was proof of the authority of Peter’s understanding, despite that he was “unlearned” (Peter was qualified only by his relationship with Christ). So for those that would assert that any teaching is evil that contradicts theirs, I would counsel: “Take care! Unless you can do the things done by the Apostles in Acts, you cannot claim to have full understanding of the teachings brought by Christ.”

What would those teachings have concerned themselves with? Well, from the words of Jesus himself, it was no less than to participate in the administration of his rule over heaven and earth ([Matt. 28:18] and the Parable of the Talents [Matt. 25:14-30]). Obviously, the scope of Jesus’s concerns exceeds those of human perception, extending even to the angels. It was because of this greater scope of understanding that Jesus was able to explain much that was hidden in the Old Testament. These two things are thus indivisible: Jesus interpreted scripture correctly because and only because he was capable of doing the work. Those that would claim authority to judge the interpretation of others should therefore be modest in their proclamations unless they can claim to be completing the work that Christ left unfinished.

Or do you believe that it will be somehow different when he comes again? Will he truly have nothing new to add to human understanding?

Before you pass judgment on others or denounce them as evil, ask yourself: “Can I do the work described in Revelation?” If not, be humble in your speaking. In particular, do not call fear into the hearts of others with statements such as “Because your interpretation of scripture differs from mine, you are falling into darkness.” No mere human has the authority to render that judgment. Considering the Temple priests and Pharisees, we might hazard that neither does any group of people.

Tomorrow, then, let’s take another look at pronouncements of judgment in Revelation, trying to adopt not the human perspective, but the perspective of one ruling over both heaven and earth.