Theos-Talk Archives (May 2002 Message tt00014)

Friday, May 03, 2002

Dear Larry:

Theosophy starts out with the same concept as that held in original
Christianity.

God is omnipresent. That is PRESENT EVERYWHERE and without any
exception. It was on it, much later, that church doctrinaires made
up the idea that Satan (or the "Devil) was the eternal opponent of God
and was "different."

This introduced duality. It severed GOD from the rest of the Universe
(His Universe) and made him a Personal Being detached from
everything, -- and naturally, from that, arose the supposed powers of
the priesthood which could, on demand (and being suitably recompensed)
reconnect humans with the DIVINE - GOD. Then, it was but a step to
declaring that every human child was "born in sin."

Theosophy does away with this mummery. And for this reason is
heartily disliked by all in the priesthood who might claim
authority -- for whatever reason.

Theosophy declares that the word which are used in various languages
to convey the concept of the supreme original and ONE SELF are:
DEITY -- GOD -- SPIRIT -- PERFECTION -- RIGHT and GOOD --
TRUTH IMMUTABLE -- IMMORTALITY --- ETERNAL --- etc, etc.
designate a "Supreme Being" which cannot be demonstrated, but is
sensed -- as a logical necessity -- within, behind, over, permeating
PRINCIPLE.

It therefore states without any equivocation that all beings in
manifestation reside within this ONE SELF -- THE UNIVERSAL DEITY or
the IMPERSONAL and IMMUTABLE GOD. Being universal there is no place
or condition, or plane which escapes its OMNIPRESENT permeability.

Logically, omnipresence includes immortality, omniscience, and
omnipotence. It is the source for LAW impersonal and universal, for
Wisdom and Knowledge that is exact and honest and true, since the
timeless and undefinable beginning of EXISTENCE. And as it always
was/is/and will be its power is the support of the Kosmos as will as
the micro-cosmos that is man on his various habitats.

In what way are divinity and holy different? They are not.
Everything is by definition made up of aspects of God and consists of
God's powers made manifest in various ways.

Even the independent human MIND is only a microcosmic aspect of the
UNIVERSAL MIND which shapes and molds and operates all. Man is
therefore called a potential GOD. And certainly we cannot deny to him
or her any of the divine potentials. This includes the potential to
deny and refuse to conform to Laws and to distort and confuse living
for one's self and for others -- who are our companions and are
inter-related to us. It is man who creates vice by ignoring or
distorting Law. Law always tends to perfection and to cooperation.
vice always tends to separation, isolation and selfishness. And in
the plenum that is the UNIVERSE this is not possible, so Karma the Law
of compensation is invoked to educate, reform and adjust the
disturbing element.

To account for perversity the GOD IN MANIFESTATION is philosophically
(metaphysically) considered a DIVINE UNIVERSAL MONAD. GOD OUT OF
MANIFESTATION is the indefinable, indescribable, attributeless
ABSOLUTE.

God in manifestation as a MONAD is described as the LIVING Monad -- a
being of polar opposites where "sprit" and "matter" confront one
another. There they are united by the line of the MIND. It is there
that the PERCEIVER as the 3rd aspect of DEITY, comes into being.
With, and in i,t is the universal Power to view, to organize, to
ensure fairness, justice, harmony

Hence all people, all places, all events being immersed entirely into
the DEITY, no place is especially sacred or holy. Such places as
might be chosen for meetings in which such subjects are discussed
might receive special attention, but the quality of sanctity is lent
to them by the character of those who attend and who direct the
purpose of the meetings.

To make such designation and to assume a power that tone does not
possess are delusionary in the extreme and demean the integrity of
others who might be presumed to lack in the identical relation with
the ONE UNIVERSAL AND IMPERSONAL DEITY (GOD) that everyone has
innately and eternally.

Best wishes,

Dallas


=========================================================


THE TELL-TALE PICTURE GALLERY

A Tale by W. Q. Judge


Although the gallery of pictures about which I now write has long ago
been abandoned, and never since its keepers left the spot where it was
has it been seen there, similar galleries are still to be found in
places that one cannot get into until guided to them. They are now
secreted in distant and inaccessible spots--in the Himalaya mountains;
beyond them, in Tibet; in underground India; and such mysterious
locations. The need for such reports by spies or for confessions by
transgressors is not felt by secret fraternities which possess such
strange recorders of the doings, thoughts, and conditions of those
whom they portray. In the brotherhoods of the Roman Catholic Church,
or in Free-masonry, no failure to abide by rules could ever be dealt
with unless some one reported the delinquent or he himself made a
confession. Every day mason after mason breaks both the letter and
spirit of the vows he made, but, no one knowing or making charges, he
remains a mason in good standing. The soldier in camp or field
oversteps the strictest rules of discipline, yet it if done out of
sight of those who could divulge or punish he remains untouched. And
in the various religious bodies, the members continually break, either
in act or in thought, all the commandments, unknown to their fellows
and the heads of the Church, with no loss of standing. But neither
the great Roman Church, the Free-masons, nor any religious sect
possesses such a gallery as that of which I will try to tell you, one
in which is registered every smallest deed and thought.

I do not mean the great Astral Light that retains faithful pictures of
all we do, whether we be Theosophists or Scoffers, Catholics or
Free-masons, but a veritable collection of simulacrae deliberately
constructed so as to specialize one of the many functions of the
Astral Light.

It was during one of my talks with the old man who turned into a
wandering eye that I first heard of this wonderful gallery, and after
his death I was shown the place itself. It was kept on the Sacred
Island where of old many weird and magical things existed and events
occurred. You may ask why these are not now found there, but you
might as well request that I explain why Atlantis sank beneath the
wave or why the great Assyrian Empire has disappeared. They have had
their day, just as our present boasted civilization will come to its
end and be extinguished. Cyclic law cannot be held from its
operation, and just as sure as tides change on the globe and blood
flows in the body, so sure is it that great doings reach their
conclusion and powerful nations disappear.

It was only a few months previous to the old man's death, when
approaching dissolution or superior orders, I know not which, caused
him to reveal many things and let slip hints as to others. He had
been regretting his numerous errors one day, and turning to me said,

"And have you never seen the gallery where your actual spiritual state
records itself?"

Not knowing what he meant I replied: "I did not know they had one
here."

"Oh, yes; it is in the old temple over by the mountain, and the
diamond gives more light there than anywhere else."

Fearing to reveal my dense ignorance, not only of what he meant but
also of the nature of this gallery, I continued the conversation in a
way to elicit more information, and he supposing I had known of
others, began to describe this one. But in the very important part of
the description he turned the subject as quickly as he had introduced
it, so that I remained a prey to curiosity. And until the day of his
death he did not again refer to it. The extraordinary manner of his
decease, followed by the weird wandering eye, drove the thought of the
pictures out of my head.

Nut it would seem that the effect of this floating, lonely,
intelligent eye upon my character was a foretoken of my introduction
to the gallery. His casual question, in connection with his own
shortcomings and the lesson impressed on me by the intensification and
concentration of all his nature into one eye hat ever wandered about
the Island, mad me turn my thoughts inward so as to discover and
destroy the seeds of evil in myself. Meanwhile all duties in the
temple where I lived were assiduously performed.

One night after attaining to some humility of spirit, I feel quietly
asleep with the white moonlight falling over the floor, and dreamed
that I met the old man again as when alive, and that he asked me if I
had yet seen the picture gallery.

:No," said I in the dream, "I had forgotten it," awakening then at
sound of my own voice.

Looking up, I saw in the moonlight a figure of one I had not seen in
any of the temples. This being gazed at me with clear, cold eyes, and
afar off sounded what I supposed its voice.

"Come with me."

Rising from the bed I went out into the night, following this laconic
guide. The moon was full, high in her course, and all the place was
full of her radiance. In the distance the walls of the temple nearest
the diamond mountain appeared self-luminous. To that the guide
walked, and we reached the door now standing wide open. As I came to
the threshold, suddenly the lonely, grey, wandering eye of my old dead
friend and co-disciple floated past looking deep into my own, and I
read its expression as if it would say,

"The picture-gallery is here."

We entered, and, although some priests were there, no one seemed to
notice me. Through the court, across a hall, down a long corridor we
went, and then into a wide and high roofless place with but one door.
Only the stars in heaven adorned the space above, while streams of
more than moonlight poured into it from the diamond, so that there
were no shadows nor any need for lights. As the noiseless door swung
softly shut behind us, sad music floated down in one spot, but was
quickly swallowed in the light.

"Examine with care, but touch not and fear nothing," said my taciturn
companion. With these words he turned and left me alone.

But how could I say I was alone ! The place was full of faces. They
were ranged up and down the long hall; near the floor, above it;
higher, on the walls; in the air; everywhere except in one aisle;
but not a single one moved from its place, yet each was seemingly
alive. And at intervals strange watchful creatures of the elemental
world moved about from place to place. Were they watching me or the
faces? Now I felt they had me in view, for sudden glances out of the
corners of their eyes shot my way; but in a moments something
happened showing they guarded or watched the faces.

I was standing looking at the face of an old friend about my own age
who had been sent to another part of the island, and it filled me with
sadness unaccountably. One of the curious elemental creatures moved
silently up near it. In amazement I strained my eyes, for the picture
of my friend was apparently discoloring. Its expression altered every
moment. It turned from white to grey and yellow, and back to grey,
and the suddenly if grew all black as if with rapid decomposition.(*)
Then again that same sad music, I had heard on entering floated past
me, while the blackness of the face seemed to cast a shadow, but not
for long. The elemental pounced upon the blackened face, now
soulless, tore it in pieces and by some process unknown to itself
dissipated the atoms and restored the brightness of the spot. But
alas ! my of friend's picture was gone, and I felt within me a heavy,
almost unbearable gloom as of despair.
[(*) FN: Compare with Mr. Judge's "Culture of Concentration" article,
where the several vices are described. -- W. Q. J Articles Vol. I, p.
319.]

As I grew accustomed to the surroundings, my senses perceived every
now and then sweet but low musical sounds that appeared to emanate
from or around these faces. So, selecting one, I stood in front of it
and watched. It was bright and pure. Its eyes looked into mine with
the half-intelligence of a dream. Yet it grew now and then a little
brighter, and as that that happened I heard the gentle music. This
convinced me that the changes in expression were connected with the
music.

But fearing I would be called away, I began to carefully scan the
collection, and found that all my co-disciples were represented there,
as well as hundreds whom I had never seen, and every priest high or
low whom I had observed about the island. Yet the same saddening
music every now and then reminded me of the scene of the blacking of
my friend's picture. I knew it meant others blackened and were being
destroyed by the watchful elementals who I could vaguely perceive were
pouncing upon something whenever those notes sounded. They were like
the wails of angels when they see another mortal going to moral
suicide.

Dimly after a while there grew upon me an explanation of this gallery.
Here were the living pictures of every student or priest of the order
founded by the Adepts of the Diamond Mountain. These vitalized
pictures were connected by invisible cords with the character of those
they represented, and like a telegraph instrument they instantly
recorded the exact state of the disciple's mind; when he made a
complete failure, they grew black and were destroyed; when he
progressed in spiritual life, their degrees of brightness or beauty
showed his exact standing.

As these conclusions were reached, louder and stronger musical tones
filled the hall. Directly before me was a beautiful, peaceful face;
its brilliance outshone the light around, and I knew that some unseen
brother--how far or near was unknown to me--had reached some height or
advancement that corresponded to such tones.

Just then my guide reentered; I found I was near the door; it was
open; and together we passed out, retracing the same course by which
we had entered. Once outside the setting of the moon showed how long
I had been in the gallery. The silence of my guide prevented speech,
and he returned with me to the room I had left. There he stood
looking at me, and once more I heard as it were from afar his voice in
inquiry, as if he said but

"Well ?"

Into my mind came the question, "How are those faces made ?" From
all about him, but not from his lips, came the answer,

"You cannot understand. They are not the persons, and yet they are
made from their minds and bodies."

"Was I right in the idea that they were connected with those they
pictured by invisible cords along which the person's condition was
carried?"

"Yes, perfectly. And they never err. From day to day they change for
better or worse. Once the disciple has entered this path his picture
forms there; and we need no spies, no officious fellow disciples to
prefer charges, no reports, no machinery. Everything registers
itself. We have but to inspect the images to know just how the
disciple gets on or goes back."

"And those curious elementals," thought I, "do they feed on the
blackened images?"

"They are our scavengers. They gather up and dissipate the decomposed
and deleterious atoms that formed the image before it grows black--no
longer fit for such good company."

"And the music--did it come from the images?"

"Ah, boy, you have much to learn. It came from them, but it belongs
also to every other soul. It is the vibration of the disciple's
thoughts and spiritual life; it is the music of his good deeds and
his brotherly love."

Then came to me a dreadful thought, "How can one--if at all--restore
his image once it has blackened in the gallery?"

But my guide was no longer there. A faint rustling sound was all--and
three deep notes as if upon a large bronze bell.

-- Bryan Kinnevan
(W. Q. Judge)

PATH June 1889

=====================================================================

Best wishes

Dallas


===================================================

-----Original Message-----
From: Larry F Kolts [mailto:llkingston2@juno.com]
Sent: Friday, May 03, 2002 3:06 PM
To: study@blavatsky.net
Subject: [bn-study] Divine vs Holy

David has posed a very significant question which as yet has gone
unanswered. He queries as to what the difference is between "divine"
and
"holy".

In the conventional religious understanding, DIVINE refers to
something
that is godlike. Gods and their attributes are divine. All else is
mundane. That which is mundane can never become divine. In this
paradigm,
what something mundane can become is HOLY. It becomes holy by either
being "touched by the gods" or consecrated to the gods.

To be touched by the gods, means to have had a deity br in physical
contact. A place becomes holy because a god visited there. this is the
essence of Exodus 3:5 where Moses comes into the presence of the Lord
and
is told "Draw not nigh hither: put off thy shoes from off thy feet,
for
the place whereon thou standest is holy ground". The day before this
patch of earth was just dirt, put now in the presence of deity it
became
"holy ground." The same is true with the numerous "holy site" like the
now Battlefield of the Church of the Nativity in Bethlehem. Jesus was
supposed to have been born there. Since Christians consider him a god,
his birthplace is a holy site. All religions have such places. Also
items
touched by a god a said to be holy. The "relics" such as the shroud of
Turin or the various supposed fragments of the cross fall into this
category.

Other things are MADE holy by consecration in this belief system.
Catholic Holy Water is one example. A building so dedicated become a
church or a temple. one so consecrated, its use is limited. As a
Mormon,
I would take an once of regular olive oil from the kitchen, pour it
into
a vial, hold it up towards heaven and say "Heavenly Father, I present
before you this oil and dedicate, consecrate and set it apart for the
healing of the sick in the household of faith." After that, this oil
was
'holy" and was to be used only for anointing the sick, NEVER for any
other purpose.

So that's the original distinction. what does this mean to
theosophists?
Anything at all? If all is divine at least potentially, then is there
any
mundane. If all are of divine essence is there anything less than
divine
that could be made holy? or does holy have another meaning for
theosophists?

Larry