TRANSFORMATION OF LIFE: A NEW INTERPRETATION OF THE
CHRISTMAS AND EASTER STORIES
by R. Walder
The celebration of the Christmas and Easter Festivals has always presented a challenge to Unitarians because of the apparently 'supernatural' nature of what is being celebrated. This 'supernaturalism' is due, however, to the interpretation of the biblical stories adopted by orthodox Christianity, and the present article will show that there is an alternative, and wholly satisfying, way in which the stories can be interpreted1.
A tacit assumption in what follows is that the biblical stories may be understood in ways other than that of historical authenticity. This does not negate the possibility that some aspects of the stories are historically true: it is simply that the question of historical authenticity is not being addressed and that, rather, the stories are being considered in terms of spiritual allegory2.
Messiah, Word, Consciousness
Christian tradition asserts that the prophecy of the 'coming of the Messiah', or - what is equivalent - the 'coming of the Christ', is given in the fifty-third chapter of the Book of Isaiah. That chapter opens with words that are interpreted within the Christian tradition in such a way as to be pertinent to Christmas3:
These words are usually taken to be referring to a particular god man called 'Jesus Christ'. But that Isaiah's words are considered as referring to a man at all is somewhat surprising in view of the fact that Isaiah says 'he hath no form', and it would seem that he may, rather, be speaking of something abstract - notwithstanding the fact that this abstract entity is referred to as 'he' and as 'a man of sorrows'. The question is 'What is this abstract entity from which “we hid as it were our faces”?'.
The question may be considered together with another biblical passage which is taken by Christians to be pertinent to Christmas: the first chapter of the Gospel of John. The opening words of John's Gospel make it clear that the writer, like Isaiah, is speaking of something abstract - something which he calls 'the Word'. To address the question of what might be the nature of the abstract entity to which Isaiah and John allude we must consider our modern understanding of the workings of the world.
A general failure to understand the scriptures in abstract terms may have arisen from the fact that, since the inception of scientific thinking in the seventeenth century, both scientists and non-scientists alike have tended to view nature in terms of cause and effect. For most of us, all events in the world are the effect of some previous cause. If, for example, a cup falls off a table we will search for a cause for this event. It may be, for instance, that we come to the conclusion that it fell because it was perched on the edge. If - we say to ourselves - we had placed the cup in the middle of the table then it would not have fallen - for the idea that a cup will suddenly throw itself to the floor from the middle of a table is, we would say, not reasonable.
While events at the ordinary level at which life is lived proceed by cause and effect, the idea of causality cannot be applied at the level of the atoms and below. Indeed, some of the most decisive advances in science during the twentieth century centred upon the recognition that atomic events can occur without cause. An example is radioactive decay. In a radioactive material the atoms 'go pop' in a way that absolutely cannot be predicted. Nobody can say which atom is going to 'go pop' next because there is nothing that is causing the atoms to 'go pop'. This is, actually, an example of a quantum-mechanical process, and all quantum-mechanical processes possess this 'absence of causality': events occur for no reason whatsoever - somewhat like a cup throwing itself to the floor from the middle of a table, but on a much, much smaller scale, of course.
These thoughts seem a long way from the concerns of religion until one reflects that the idea of the Grace of God is as a condition which is without cause. The fact that both Divine Grace and sub-atomic events are without cause suggests that the two might be related: that if atoms get to be how they are without there being a cause for what happens, then this may constitute a 'route' by which God can enter into the world - especially as everything is made up of atoms.
But there is a further thought which is pertinent to these considerations: that science has become fairly sure that quantum-mechanical events are intimately entwined with consciousness. Scientists cannot yet explain this fully, but it has become more and more certain that there is an intimate connection.
With these considerations held in attention we can begin to gain a new understanding of the opening of John's Gospel. John speaks of 'the Word' - something which is obviously closely related to consciousness. The writer says (1:1,3):
The fact that science has become moderately certain that quantum-mechanical events are intimately entwined with consciousness, and that these quantum-mechanical events are the basis of all things coming to be as they are (or, even, coming into being), may be used as a background for the interpretation of the words 'All things were made by him; and without him was not any thing made that was made': all that is required is that the word 'him' be understood as referring to consciousness.
But by continuing to take the referent of the word 'him' as consciousness, we can form a new understanding of John's words (1:4-5): 'In him was life; and the life was the light of men / And the light shineth in darkness'. The interpretation of 'him' as consciousness is especially appropriate here in that John's words may be understood in terms of the light of consciousness4.
Indeed, John goes on (1:9) to say: 'That was the true Light, which lighteth every man that cometh into the world'. The 'light which lighteth every man that cometh into the world' is surely the light of consciousness - that which makes us uniquely human. But now John declares the true, but totally uncomfortable, thought: 'He came unto his own, and his own received him not': consciousness came into 'his own' - comes into us humans who are distinguished (at least in terms of degree) from the animal kingdom by the fact that they possess consciousness - but 'his own received him not'.
This is a stunning observation. The one thing that humans have 'above' all other creatures is consciousness (at least in terms of degree), but the one thing to which humans will not attend is the process of becoming fully conscious. Yet that is the one process which characterises all true religion: the process of becoming fully conscious.
And this is surely what Isaiah was talking about in the quotation given above, for Isaiah's referent of the 'he' could also be consciousness - the consciousness which humans, characteristically, want little to do with. And that is why Isaiah speaks of this 'he' as 'despised and rejected of men'.
The Christmas Story
It is these thoughts that lead to an understanding of the Christmas Story. With them, we can say that the Story is an account of the introduction of individual consciousness into us all. The account is couched in the symbolism of the birth of a baby. And this 'baby', the Story tells us, is special in that it is 'born of a virgin'.
Attempts at a 'concrete' (as opposed to abstract) interpretation of the Bible cause people to ask the question 'Was there really a virgin birth?'. The Unitarians have traditionally answered this question in the negative, while the Christians have traditionally answered it in the positive. However, the question should not be 'Was there really a virgin birth?' but 'What were the writers of the Gospels seeking to represent?'. For those writers may have been expressing an abstract idea through the notion of a virgin giving birth. Indeed, since the idea of a virgin birth is something that happens without there being a cause for its happening, the notion of an uncaused event may well be the abstract idea which is being expressed through the symbol of a virgin birth.
The way in which the Gospel writers incorporated uncaused events into accounts of the nature of things was to invoke the presence of angels - which, being the 'messengers of God', are obviously connected with consciousness. Thus it may be said that when ancient writers wished to describe the abstract idea of uncaused events, they did so by writing about an apparently real girl really having a conversation with an angel concerning how the Holy Spirit will bring to birth a baby through her. But by taking the referent of these words to be something abstract, we may understand them in a new way. When we read that the angel said to Mary (Luke 1:35)
we can take it that the writer was using the Story as a vehicle for abstract thoughts which, in another culture, would have appeared as a purely philosophic text.
So what is this knowledge which the writers of the Gospels are trying to impart? It is that life and the world are such that certain things can happen without there being a cause for them. This is Grace - that which is 'given' without being merited; that which is the gift of God, given unconditionally: that which humans palely reflect in their custom of giving gifts at Christmas.
This is the great import of the Christmas Story: that the world in which we ordinarily live is not the world in all its glory; but rather that there is, 'right in front of our noses', a world which is rich beyond our imagining, a world which is waiting for us to awaken to its presence. And this is what we celebrate at Christmas: that we all have within us the power to see the world as a baby sees it - in its beginningness when all that was made was good.
This is what we may call the 'Christmas experience': the experience of an uncaused event which results in the birth of a new awareness of All-That-Is. At Christmas, then, behind the glitter, behind the decorations, behind the presents, behind the food, stands Incarnation: a 'moment of birth' when something utterly spontaneous and uncaused occurs. What is this uncaused event?
It is the coming of the Christ: the 'gift' of individual consciousness that renders humans what they are. For 'the Christ' refers to a state of consciousness - indeed, the highest form of consciousness attainable by an individual. With this knowledge we are provided with the possibility of an entirely new interpretation of the Christmas Story.
Consciousness is 'born' in that dark 'place' where we 'keep' our animal instincts - in, as the Story puts it, a stable. And, as the Story states, this 'birth' occurs in the stable because there is 'no room at the inn'. What the symbolism indicates is that activities such as feasting, drinking, and revelry do not allow room for consciousness. However, consciousness-disallowing activities are not confined to feasting, drinking, and revelry, for we may generalise the idea to the statement that there is 'no room' for consciousness so long as our thoughts are busy - as an inn is busy. What the statement implies is that there are degrees of consciousness and the highest degrees can be obtained only when our thoughts become totally still. The contemplative traditions of all religions testify to the truth of this.
In this interpretation the Christmas Story is no longer about a miraculous event which happened long ago in a far country, but is now an account of the essential nature of human being. What it says is that beyond the busy-ness of our lives (the business of our lives), even in that place where we house our animal instincts, there is a spark which is consciousness - a spark which can be nurtured such that it may grow into full light and illuminate our whole being. And it can be seen why it is that this Story about consciousness and the essence of human nature is set at Christmas, for Christmastide is the time of year when the days have shrunk to their shortest and are just beginning to lengthen again: the period itself is, as it were, symbolic of the light (of consciousness) 'returning' to life.
The Christmas Story is telling us, then, that human nature is not purely that of animal instincts but that within the human is the spark of consciousness that can be nurtured such that it grows - just as a baby grows when it is properly nurtured. But this thought leads to a whole teaching concerning what we must do to nurture this spark and cause it to grow. This teaching brings new symbols - referred to as 'shepherds' and 'magi' - into the Story.
Why are shepherds an integral part of the Christmas Story? The spark of consciousness is 'born', as we have already said, among our animal instincts, and in order for that spark to grow we must first bring those instincts under control. But this is what a shepherd does with his animals. That the shepherds, according to the Story, visit the 'baby' that is the spark of consciousness is a way of indicating that nurture of this consciousness must be initiated by first bringing our animal instincts under control. Not, of course, suppressing our instincts, but controlling them in such a way that they remain useful to us - much as the shepherd controls his sheep such that they are useful to him.
When our animal instincts are under control we are liberated to pursue the higher aims of life - and, ultimately, to pursue the aim of full consciousness. This, then, is the first step towards the nurturing of the spark of consciousness. But we may take notice of how it is that the shepherds are brought into play within the Story: they are informed by the 'heavenly host' of the 'baby' which has been born. The meaning of this is that when we are ready to bring our animal instincts under control we are instructed by what we might call 'higher forces' (in consciousness: the angels are the messengers of God). The implication, then, is not that there are supernatural beings that descend out of the skies, but that the process of bringing under control our animal instincts is one that necessitates invoking the higher forces inherent within ourselves.
The visitation of the shepherds to the baby is symbolic of our first step in tending the spark of consciousness within ourselves: bringing our animal instincts under control. The second step - and it is linked with the first - is to deal with ourselves with wisdom. Here is the symbol of the magi or 'wise men'. We attend to the spark of consciousness within ourselves through wisdom in order that it may receive the gifts that wisdom brings: the gifts that are symbolised by gold, frankincense, and myrrh.
The gifts that wisdom brings are those symbols which indicate that we are treating the nurture of consciousness in a serious manner. With wisdom, we bring: our wealth, symbolised by gold; our reverence, symbolised by frankincense; and our recognition of death, symbolised by myrrh. Gold and frankincense are fairly obvious symbols: that we bring our wealth indicates our recognition that full consciousness is of greater worth than material wealth; that we bring our reverence indicates that we regard full consciousness as the highest possibility within us. The third gift, myrrh, requires, however, explanation.
Myrrh, as a symbol, is connected with death. For example, in the scriptures it is said that the women who came to Jesus' tomb after the crucifixion brought myrrh with which to anoint his body. The symbol connects birth and death, and is representative of our need to recognise that the nurture of consciousness is of the nature of a journey: the spiritual journey - which is, of course, the journey of a lifetime. This journey between birth and death is a journey in which the end is contained within the beginning - as Jesus indicated to his disciples when, in the Gospel of Thomas (logion 185), he said to them:
The gift of myrrh is symbolic of the recognition of death, but in that very recognition comes, as Jesus said, the transcendence of death. What is being taught is that the nurture of the spark of individual consciousness is the spiritual journey through which humankind can come to know both the beginning and the end, thereby transcending death.
Star-Led Journey
The spiritual journey is the star-led journey. For the star is the spark of consciousness now nurtured into a blazing light which 'adorns the heavens'. By bringing our wealth, our reverence, and our recognition of death into the 'stable' of our animal instincts where has been born the spark of individual consciousness, we nurture that spark until it bursts into blaze and rises to light the skies of our own heavens.
The Christmas Story deals, then, with something which is really quite separate from the accounts of the life and teachings of the man Jesus. This is also true of the Easter Story - for the two are part of a continuous narrative. Both the Christmas and the Easter Stories are concerned with something called 'the Christ'. This is in contrast to other stories in the Gospels which are concerned with the man we know as Jesus the Nazarene. What makes this particular man very special is that he achieved that state which we may call 'Christhood' - the full realisation of consciousness.
It can be seen from what has been said so far that the elements of the Christmas Story fall into place if the word Christ' be understood, not in terms of a person, but in terms of the spark of consciousness which is 'born' in an individual human being. For succinctness, we have referred to the consciousness 'born' in an individual human being as 'individual consciousness', but we should recognize that, strictly, this is not quite correct because although I might refer to my consciousness as an individual and your consciousness as an individual, I would never say that there are two 'consciousnesses', but only that we both have consciousness.
With that proviso, we can say that the Christ is individual consciousness. It is the spark of light that is 'born' in the dark 'stable' of our animal instincts, the spark of light which we are enjoined first to recognise through bringing to bear upon our animal instincts our means of control - symbolised by 'shepherds' in the Christmas Story - and then to nurture through the application of wisdom - symbolised by 'magi' in the Story.
But we have also seen that, wrapped up within the symbolism of this Story, is the concept of a star-led journey - the inner, spiritual journey which leads us from birth to death and beyond. It is this star-led journey which is symbolised by the transition from Christmas to Easter: from a birth - Christmas - to a death - Good Friday - and to transformation and newness of life - Easter. We have so far considered the Christmas Story in some depth, and we may now consider the Easter Story in depth - starting with Palm Sunday.
The symbolism of Palm Sunday is that of entering upon the final phase of the journey - the phase which begins, according to the symbolism of the Story, just outside the gates of the capital city, Jerusalem, symbol of the centre from which life is governed and ordered.
What we may consider the Story as teaching is that an inner journey has led to the centre from which life is governed and ordered, and we can consider this centre to be the destination of the inner journey which started when we undertook to nurture the spark of individual consciousness which, symbolically, was 'born' at Christmas.
On Palm Sunday, the destination has not been reached but only come into view, and an essential element of the Story of Palm Sunday is its instruction as to the attitude we need to adopt in order to gain entry into our destination - that inner place from which our life is governed, the centre of our being, our individual consciousness. The writers of the Gospels of Matthew and Mark chose to represent the centre of our being, the centre from which our life is governed, by the symbol of the 'capital city'. It is, then, the entry into the centre of our being which constitutes the first part of the Palm-Sunday Story, and this first part concerns itself with instruction in the attitude we are required to take in order to gain entry to this centre.
The approach to the centre of our being has a dual nature. First of all we come in the triumph of having completed the journey and having overcome all the obstacles along the way. But then we are warned by the Story that it is precisely this sense of triumph that can lead to failure in the final phase: that we must pause when the 'capital' comes in sight and adopt an attitude of humility before proceeding - an attitude of quiet confidence without outward display.
Rather than enter the 'capital' at the head of 'conquering forces', then, we are instructed to proceed with the lowliness symbolised within the Story by the steed upon which the triumphal entry is made: a donkey. When we do this, the Story assures us, there will be those, as it were, who hold us in such respect that they cry to us 'Hosanna' - which means, 'Save, we pray'. In other words, when the final phase of our journey into our own centre - into the knowledge of what we truly are - consists of triumph coupled with humility, there will be elements of our being which will support us because we will have discovered what our journey has really been about: the salvation that self-knowledge brings.
However, with the attainment of self-knowledge - knowledge of our individual consciousness - comes the indication that we have still not arrived at our final destination and that we yet have work to do. For the Story now indicates that we must proceed into the very heart of individual consciousness - what the Story calls the Temple (ie., the heart of the city) - and clean up the mess that we find there.
At this point it becomes very clear that it really is better to take the scriptural account as being concerned with an inner journey rather than an outward event, for a literal interpretation presents huge difficulties. If the account of the 'cleansing of the Temple' is read in a literal manner, the implication is that Jesus the Nazarene lost his temper and behaved in a quite violent way. Indeed, the Gospel of John records this 'cleansing of the Temple' as a premeditated act, for John indicates that Jesus 'made a scourge of small cords' with which to drive the merchants out of the Temple. Such behaviour does not sit well with the picture of Jesus as 'Prince of Peace'6.
The problem with this literal interpretation is, precisely, its literalness: that it assumes that there were real merchants and moneychangers in a real Temple whom Jesus really attacked. This simply does not ring true. Quite apart from the fact that it seems inherently unlikely that one man would have had much success in stopping people plying what was, after all, their lawful business, it is somewhat surprising that Jesus was not immediately arrested for this criminal act.
But, as we have seen, there is not only no need to take the Story in an exclusively literal way, there is good reason to understand it as a symbolical account which can show us the nature of the inner, spiritual journey. Jerusalem - the capital - has now been understood to be, not a city of stone and mortar, but a symbol of the heart of our being, the 'capital' from which our being is governed. The Temple, in this interpretation, is our 'heart of hearts', the dwelling-place of God within our hearts.
What the Story of the 'cleansing of the Temple' indicates is that we have allowed the dwelling-place of God within us to become corrupted by the ways of the world - symbolised by the presence there of 'merchants' and 'moneychangers'. The Story, then, is not referring to real people who are really selling merchandise and changing money, but is, rather, referring to the fact that we have allowed the ordinary business of life to invade the holy place within us.
When we come to this understanding we can see that a premeditated solution to the problem is necessary - and, in addition, that we will need to use considerable force to overcome the effects of the invasion of the holy place within us by the forces of worldly business. (There is here an obvious echo with 'no room at the inn'.) So it is then that we will need to make for ourselves a 'scourge of small cords', as it were - a moral switch with which to deal with the materialistic forces that have taken up occupation of our heart of hearts. Now we have a more satisfying understanding of the challenge that the Story is about: the challenge to overcome our attachments to the material world - the attachments which are represented by the symbol of the merchants in the Temple.
As we approach the end of our spiritual journey, we are required to make the temple of our being no longer 'a den of thieves' but a 'house of prayer' - truly the place of the living God. And so, the Story tells us, we must challenge and overcome our attachment to material things - even in the temple of our being, the heart of our hearts.
Here, then, we have the Story of Palm Sunday: the culmination of the long inner journey in the final entry into the centre of our being taken in triumph with quiet confidence and without outward show, and the removal from our heart of hearts all attachments to material things. All this has prepared us for Easter.
The Easter Story
The quintessential significance of the Easter Story is that death can be overcome. The orthodox Christian explanation of this idea is that one man - Jesus the Nazarene - has shown this to us through his dying and resurrection. But it is surely better to ask 'Where do we look in order to discover the meaning of the idea that death can be overcome?'.
The Gospel of Mark (14:12-13) tells us where to look:
The statement '...there shall meet you a man bearing a pitcher of water' is not one that can easily be taken literally, for that would imply that Jesus instructed his disciples to go into a city where there would have been a large number of people carrying water in pitchers and to follow one of them. It is therefore highly unlikely that the disciples would have picked the right person to follow. But that does not mean that the words can be dismissed, for the instruction which the Gospel writer has put into the mouth of Jesus is not concerned with earthly things like people wandering about with pitchers of water, but is concerned with heavenly things.
For where does one find 'a man bearing a pitcher of water'? It is the symbol of the astrological sign Aquarius7. In other words, we are being directed, as it were, to the heavens, and the scripture is clearly pointing out that the Story it is about to tell is concerned with heavenly matters - of great movements in the heavens working themselves out through humanity.
Through accounts involving mortals - the man Jesus, the rulers of the Jews, the occupying Roman forces, etc. - the Story is instructing us in what we may call the ways of heaven, and especially in the ways of 'the Christ' - the highest form of consciousness which can, through nurture, be achieved by a human being. For what does the nurture of consciousness mean? It means - as the esoteric traditions of all the major religions indicate - becoming mindful, becoming fully aware of oneself, knowing oneself. Indeed, what else could the idea 'nurture of consciousness' imply?
It is the effects that follow from the nurture of consciousness that are the primary concern of the Gospels. These scriptures speak of a man - Jesus - who so nurtured the spark of the Christ (individual consciousness) within himself that he was able to do the things we call 'miracles'. Jesus' consciousness was of the highest form and it is the knowledge of this that renders explicable not only the events of his life but also his teachings. When, for example, he uses the words 'I am' - as he frequently does - he is not referring to the little ego to which we habitually refer when we say 'I am'. He is speaking from the elevated consciousness that is the Christ within him - and, potentially, within all of us. And he clearly recognises that this elevated consciousness cannot emerge in a person until the ordinary ego is overcome. Thus, according to the Gospel of John (12:24), he says:
The teaching is that we can be like the 'corn of wheat': that if we allow the ego to die then the higher consciousness - which is the Christ - can emerge. The Apostle Paul said something very similar in his First Epistle to the Corinthians (15:36): 'that which thou sowest is not quickened, except it die'. But the death referred to is not necessarily physical death: it is the death of the ego. And this is something that can be achieved at any time, and not merely at physical death.
However, the Easter Story conveys its central idea through the description of a physical death - the crucifixion. But the scriptures have made it clear that the Story concerns, not happenings which occurred to an earthly man, but of great movements in the heavens working themselves out through humanity8. In the account of the crucifixion, then, we encounter the death of the ego and the liberation of that highest form of consciousness which we call 'the Christ'. The fact that this might also occur at physical death is secondary to the fact that newness of life is available to all humans at every moment.
The death of the ego is achieved through the practice of mindfulness - what we call meditation or contemplative prayer. But such practice also contains the means whereby we can face the death which comes to us all via physical means, and this teaching is also given in the Easter Story. The Story points out, in a symbolic way, that there are two basic types of physical means which bring about the death of the body. First there are those physical aspects which are internal to our bodies - the ones which are, as it were, 'of our own kind' (the natural ageing process, for example). These forces are symbolised in the Story by the ruling council of the Jews - those who were of Jesus' own kind. Secondly, there are the forces that come from outside of one's body and take up occupation - symbolised in the Story by the occupying Roman forces (an example would be diseases). (It can be noted that the Story indicates that, finally, death is brought about by 'something' - some material thing - that is extremely close to us - of 'our own kind': this is the symbol of the betraying disciple Judas Iscariot.)
Transformation of Life
Here, then, is some of the detail of the symbolism of the Easter Story. But now we can see what happens when the Christmas and Easter Stories are put together. Combined, they say that there is born within the human a spark of divine consciousness which one may, if one is so disposed, nurture such that, although human factors both internal and external conspire to bring about the death of the body, consciousness can win the day - 'triumph over death', as it is said. But it is also saying that the nurture of consciousness through prayer and meditation can liberate the Christ within us and allow us to overcome death at any time in our lives.
Within this interpretation we have, then, a new way of understanding that with which the scriptural stories are concerned. And it is clear from the New Testament (1 Cor. 15) that this was essentially the understanding that the Apostle Paul had obtained. For he said:
Paul's words seem to be referring to physical death, but when he speaks of 'the dead' he is referring both to the physically dead and to the loss of ego. And, either way, he is saying that the result is the 'raising' of a spiritual body. This, then, is a new understanding - an understanding which avoids the necessity to ask silly questions like 'Who rolled away the stone?'. If the 'body' that is 'raised' is a spiritual body there is no need to question as to how that 'body' escaped from the tomb - or even if there was (is) a tomb.
In this understanding we also have a satisfactory explanation of the statement that, at the moment of Jesus' death, 'the vail of the Temple was rent in twain from the top to the bottom' (Matthew 27:51, Mark 15:38). The symbolic understanding of the Palm-Sunday Story given above has led to the idea that the word 'Temple' refers not to the building of stone and mortar, but is a symbol of the centre of our consciousness. Similarly, the passage from Christmas to Easter can be taken as symbolic of the journey into oneself, with the temple of one's being - the centre of consciousness - as the point reached 'on Palm Sunday' according to the symbolism. Now, at Easter, the symbolism penetrates further: beyond the veil, that which separates the public area of the Temple from the Holy of Holies (which may be entered only at Atonement - at-one-ment), the centre of the centre. The symbolism is obvious: at the moment of the death of the ego the spiritual seeker enters into the very centre of consciousness and the Christ is released to act within his or her being - as 'I and my Father are one'.
Here, in the full Story, is the triumph over death. The full Story begins at Christmas which is symbolic of the fact that there is born within the human the spark of divine consciousness; it continues with the passage between Christmas and Easter, the passage which is symbolic of the journey that is the nurture of this spark of consciousness, which nurture necessarily implies the negation of the ego; and it culminates at Easter which is symbolic of the death of the ego and the triumphant emergence of the consciousness which is the Christ: 'O death, where is thy sting? O grave, where is thy victory?'.
In this new interpretation is the possibility for going beyond an understanding of Christianity limited by its dependence on the idea of one man as the Son of God to a genuinely universal understanding.
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1This essay has been derived from the more general theological understanding which emerges from the work presented in the author's book Natura Naturans (ISBN: 0-9543361-1-9)
2Dr. Martin Pulbrook (personal communication), for example, is of the opinion that Jesus was at the head of an attempt to overthrow the Temple so as to establish the Kingdom of Heaven. It is entirely possible, of course, that an historical account has become conflated with a spiritual allegory.
3All biblical quotations are taken from the Authorised King-James Version.
4E Pagels, in Beyond Belief (Random House, 2003), points out (p.220, note 24) that the Greek pronoun may apply to either 'light' or 'word'.
5The translation is given in Mayotte, R.A., (1997): The Complete Jesus. South Royalton, Vermont: Steerforth Press.
6It is being assumed that the positioning of the story within the account of the life of Jesus is as recorded in the Gospels of Matthew and Mark. John, of course, places the 'cleansing of the Temple' early in Jesus' ministry.
7I am grateful to the Revd. J.W. Darlison of Dublin Unitarian Church for this insight.
8To give the reason why the death occurs on a cross would involve a long and complicated digression within the present text. The reader is referred to the text of Natura Naturans (see note 1) where the insights that emerge provide a clue as to the reason for the symbol of the cross.
Published in Faith and Freedom Volume 58 - 2005