Gospel of the Self: Jungian Themes in the Aramaic New Testament, Part 5

Beatitudes Conclusion

So this week we finish up what we started on the Beatitudes.  We move to the fifth Beatitude:

KJV translation says: Blessed are the merciful, for they shall obtain mercy

The original Aramaic is:  Tubwayhun lamrahmane dalayhun nehwun rahme

Neil Douglas-Klotz’s translation from the Aramaic, with all its nuance and layers of meaning:

Blessed are those who, from their inner wombs, birth mercy; upon them shall be compassion.

Aligned with the One are the compassionate; upon them shall be compassion.

Healthy are those who extend grace; they shall find their own prayers answered.

Healed are those who extend a long heartfelt breath wherever needed; they shall feel the heat of cosmic ardor.

Tuned to the Source are those who shine from the deepest place in their bodies.  Upon them shall be the rays of universal Love.

The words translated as “mercy” carry many different meanings in the original Aramaic, combining images of an inner motion extending from the center or depths and radiating outward, like a womb.  Its subtle meanings also include love and compassion, answer to prayer, and even a “long breath extending grace.”

In Jungian terms, if we approach our inner life with compassion, it will reflect compassion back to us.  When we are on the path of individuation, it feels like tapping into an inexhaustible source of meaning and harmony at the center of the psyche that embraces all, without rejecting anything – the greatest imaginable compassion. The meaning of life is to align with this inner point of harmony, to live from that place, and to fully experience everything that emanates from that deep place.

KJV translation says: Blessed are the pure in heart; for they shall see God.

The original Aramaic is:  Tubwayhun layleyn dadkeyn b’lebhon d’hinnon nehzun l’alaha

Neil Douglas-Klotz’s translation from the Aramaic, with all its nuance and layers of meaning:

Blessed are the consistent in heart; they shall contemplate the One.

Healthy are those whose passion is electrified by deep, abiding purpose; they shall regard the power that moves and shows itself in all things.

Aligned with the One are those whose lives radiate from a core of love; they shall see God everywhere.

Healed are those who have the courage and audacity to feel abundant inside; they shall envision the furthest extent of life’s wealth.

Resisting corruption are those whose natural reaction is sympathy and friendship; they shall be illuminated by a flash of lightning, the Source of the soul’s movement in all creatures.

According to Douglas-Klotz, the word translated as “pure” actually means “consistent in love or sympathy, those who have both a natural sense of influence and abundance and a fixed, electrifying purpose.  The old roots call up the image of a flower blossoming because of its nature.”  (p. 56)  What defines the limits of our compassion, that says someone or some things are worthy of compassion, while others are not? In short, our complexes, our individual and collective wounds and traumas.  There are some who try to act compassionate, who put on the persona of a compassionate person, but it lacks consistency and integrity. True compassion comes from healing those deep wounds in yourself.

And what about “seeing God”?  The Aramaic text means both inner and outer vision, insight that comes as a flash of lightning that cuts through the darkness. And what is “seen” is alaha, that ultimate source of unity, the one without opposite.

KJV translation says:  Blessed are the peacemakers; for they shall be called the children of God.

The original Aramaic is:  Tubwayhun lahwvday shlama dawnaw(hie) d’alaha nitqarum

Neil Douglas-Klotz’s translation from the Aramaic, with all its nuance and layers of meaning:

Blessed are those who plant peace each season; they shall be named the children of God.

Healthy are those who strike the note that unites; they shall be remembered as rays of the One Unity.

Aligned with the One are those who prepare the ground for all tranquil gatherings; they shall become fountains of Livingness.

Integrated are those who joyfully knit themselves together within; they shall be stamped with the seal of Cosmic Unity.

Healed are those who bear the fruit of sympathy and safety for all; they shall hasten the coming of God’s new creation.

The Aramaic text for this Beatitude carries agricultural imagery. It involves someone who persistently labors by tilling the soil, and from that labor brings forth and celebrates the coming of the fruit.  In this case, what is planted is shlama, peace – which also means health, safety, mutual agreement, happy assembly, or an action that unites formerly opposing parties.  And the word translated as “children” actually means any emanation that goes from potential to actual.  The complete Aramaic image, then, is someone who persistently plants peace, and that results in becoming a channel or fountain for the greater unity to be fulfilled in ourselves and in the world.

Using Jungian terminology, this Beatitude might come down to this:  Those who apply themselves consistently to holding the tension of the opposites will experience the transcendent function.

KJV translation says: Blessed are they which are persecuted for righteousness’ sake; for theirs is the kingdom of heaven

The original Aramaic is:  Tubwayhun layleyn detrdep metol khenuta dion(hie) malkutha dashmaya.

Neil Douglas-Klotz’s translation from the Aramaic, with all its nuance and layers of meaning:

Blessings to those who are dislocated for the cause of justice; their new home is the province of the universe.

Health to those who are dominated and driven apart because they long for a firm foundation; their domain is created by the Word above, the earth beneath.

Aligned with the One are those who drawn shame for their pursuit of natural stability; theirs is the ruling principle of the cosmos.

Healing to those who have been shattered within from seeking perfect rest; holding them to life is heaven’s “I can!”

Tuned to the Source are those persecuted for trying to right society’s balance; to them belongs the coming king- and queendom.

The Aramaic word translated as “persecuted” is detrdep, and it can also be translated as driven, dominated disunited, or moved by scandal or shame.  The word khenuta, as in the fourth Beatitude, means a firm foundation or core principle for life. And there is a recurrence of the words malktutha dashmaya, meaning the all-pervading energy that is an expresson of Alaha.

Again, using Jungian vocabulary, the core meaning of this Beatitude is:  If you take up the path of individuation, the foundation of your life will be in the Self, but that will likely set you at odds with collective values and sensibilities.

KJV translation says: Blessed are ye, when men shall revile you, and persecute you, and shall speak all manner of evil against you falsely, for my sake.

The original Aramaic is:  Tubwayhun immath damhasdeen l’khon wamrin eleykon kul milla bisha metolath b’dagalutha.

Neil Douglas-Klotz’s translation from the Aramaic, with all its nuance and layers of meaning:

Blessings when you are conspired against, scandaled, and accused falsely of corruption for my sake

Health when your strength is sucked out, when you are disunited and falsely classified as a waste of time, for my sake.

Renewal when you are reproached and driven away by the clamor of evil on all sides, for my sake.

When you are covered with insults like a sticky web, pulled apart at the seams and wrongly labeled immature, for my sake.

When you feel contaminated, dislocated, and feel and inner shame for no good reason, it is for my sake.

Continuing the theme from the previous Beatitude, this one conveys the idea of being reviled, of having one’s strength sucked out, of being contaminated with blame and shame. This Beatitude goes even further, saying that there is a sort of clamor or exaggerated sound that can lead to one being labeled as “bisha” – unripe, evil, immature.   Indeed, those who elevate individuation above conventional success or approbation can attract the worst of all possible projections – that is, a projection of evil itself, that which is reviled and detested at the deepest level.

KJV translation says: Rejoice and be exceedingly glad, for great is your reward in heaven, for so persecuted they the prophets who were before you.

The original Aramaic is:  Haydeyn khadaw wa rwazw dagarkhun sgee bashmaya hakana geyr r’dapw l’nabiya d’men q’damaykun

Neil Douglas-Klotz’s translation from the Aramaic, with all its nuance and layers of meaning:

Then, feel at the peak of everything and be extremely moved, for your natural abundance, already in the cosmos, has multiplied all around you (from the blows on your heart):  

Do everything extreme, including letting your ego disappear, for this is the secret of claiming your expanded home in the universe.  

Drink a drop—or drench yourself. No matter where you turn you will find the Name inscribed in light: it’s all the One Creation.

For so they shamed those before you:  

All who are enraptured, saying inspired things—who produce on the outside what the spirit has given them within.  

It is the sign of the prophecy to be persecuted by circumstances.   It is the sign of the prophets and prophetesses to feel the disunity around them intensely

The English translation of this Beatitude seems to be a superficial admonition to maintain positive thinking, but the Aramaic takes us to a much deeper meaning.  As we will discuss in greater detail next week, the Aramaic people recognized a subconscious self, the naphsha, which requires attention and care. Those who are attuned to the naphsha are are known as prophets. Quoting Douglas-Klotz:

The root of the word khadaw refers to “everything extreme, the point or summit of something, gaiety or liveliness.” It also presents the image of a drop of wine. The roots of the following word, rwazw, convey images of an inner movement of becoming extremely thin, of drinking or drenching, of a ray of anything, or of the breath. According to D’Olivet the root rz connotes an inner process of allowing the ego to become “thin,” a secret of the desert mystics. The images of the breath and of drenching indicate other parts of this process. The combination says: when outer dislocation and persecution occur, use them to expand the territory within, allowing the naphsha (or subconscious self) to receive the attention it deserves and to become gradually clearer in relation to the divine purpose.  (p. 83)

And what about the “reward in heaven?”  The Aramaic sense of the word is an expanding movement that extends from the Source but is grounded in materiality, in limitation in space and time. The concept is that the reward is actually an expanded consciousness, from which comes a wider range of feeling and empathy with all creation.

That brings us to the end of the Beatitudes.  Let me conclude with Douglas Klotz’s retelling of all the Beatitudes:

Tuned to the Source are those who live by breathing Unity; their “I can!” is included in God’s.  

Blessed are those in emotional turmoil; they shall be united inside by love.  

Healthy are those who have softened what is rigid within; they shall receive physical vigor and strength from the universe.  

Blessed are those who hunger and thirst for physical justice; they shall be surrounded by what is needed to sustain their bodies.  

Blessed are those who, from their inner wombs, birth mercy; they shall feel its warm arms embrace them.  

Aligned with the One are those whose lives radiate from a core of love; they shall see God everywhere. 

 Blessed are those who plant peace each season; they shall be named the children of God.

Blessings to those who are dislocated for the cause of justice; their new home is the province of the universe. 

 Renewal when you are reproached and driven away by the clamor of evil on all sides, for my sake …  

Then, do everything extreme, including letting your ego disappear, for this is the secret of claiming your expanded home in the universe.  

For so they shamed those before you:  

All who are enraptured, saying inspired things—who produce on the outside what the spirit has given them within.  (pp. 61-62)

Gospel of the Self: Jungian Themes in the Aramaic New Testament, Part 6

Image of Wholeness

This week we continue our series on the Aramaic translation of early Christian texts, and how those translations parallel core aspects of Jungian thought.  

Jung wrote that it is an integral part of us as human beings to move toward wholeness.  We live day to day in a world beset by differences, where the conflict of opposites seems to drive everything. But at our deepest core, there is at least an intuition that there is an overarching wholeness that transcends all differences.  Our thinking mind, and our small ego, cannot really come to grips with the immensity of wholeness.  It may even feel terrifying – a sense that my identity might dissolve or explode if I gave up my familiar ways of relating to the world, separated into distinct objects and warring polarities.  But Jung said that there is an underlying current that moves us always closer to wholeness, defying the places in our personalities where we are overly one-sided, giving us dreams and life experiences that will broaden and deepen us, if only we are open to them.

Jung said that a major area where our longing for wholeness breaks through is in our spiritual practices.  Since pre-history, people have developed devotional practices and systems of belief that attempt to assert the reality that there is a Higher Power that exceeds human intellect and that it matters a great deal how we approach that Higher Power.  These practices and systems sometimes get set down in dogma, in which case they are called religions. To Jungians, what they have in common, and what is most significant about them, is that each of them has a core image which permits the ego to relate to that Higher Power in a way that neither decimates the ego nor shuts out the possibility of wholeness.  In the end, every spiritual practice, every religion, and every image of God falls short, because the full experience of Higher Power is simply beyond human capacity.  What Jung found fascinating were the ways in which this “falling short” occurred, and the consequences of it.

Jung was particularly interesting in the religion of Christianity.  On the one hand, he wrote thousands of pages on the symbols and images of Christianity and the ways in which they had encouraged people to become increasingly whole, in deeper and deeper relatedness to Higher Power.  But Christianity had fallen short – the image of God at the core of Christianity, the Trinity, leaves out three key elements, that is, the feminine, the material, and the darker aspects of the divine.

It is fascinating to note that the image of the Higher Power in the Aramaic translations of early Christian texts is not lacking in these three elements. In fact, the Aramaic texts open the possibility of a very different God image, one that carries a great deal more wholeness.

First, the spiritual and the material.   In Christianity, there is a distinction between  heaven and earth, the spiritual and mundane realms, with the material realm seen as fallen.  Not so in Aramaic. The Aramaic word for heaven, shemaya, is best translated as a sacred vibration that vibrates without limit throughout the entire universe (Douglas Klotz, p 83).  The Aramaic word for earth, ar’ah, does not just mean the ground or materiality; it refers to all of nature and any being that has individual form, the aspect of the vibrational pattern that takes form that we perceive as solid.  As Douglas-Klotz puts it:

From an “earth” point of view, we are an array of infinitely diverse and unique beings.  From a “heaven” point of view, we are connected with everything in the universe through one wave of light or sound.  TO look at existence from only one viewpoint is incomplete, like walking around with only one eye open.  With both eyes open, we can see the depth of two realities that interpenetrate simultaneously.  (p. 83)

Second, the feminine.  Tracing back to the original Aramaic, Jesus was quoted at multiple points as saying that there was a queendom, malkutha, that was coming form the inside out.  His way of teaching – through parables, stories, and short sayings – appealing more to the intuitive mind, and uniting it with the logical mind.  Jesus extended hospitality to all, especially the mariginalized and despised people, and chided those in authority who refused to do the same.  Jesus spoke at several points about nourishment, at all levels, coming from a much more feminine direction. Finally, the Aramaic word that is often translated as God – alaha – is genderless, elevating the feminine and masculine equally.

Third, the darker aspects.  Quoting Douglas-Klotz:

I want to emphasize that the shem-light includes all vibration, from the slowest to the fastest, from the most dense waves to the most expanded.  It includes what we normally call darkness, and what physicists now call “dark matter, the stuff that makes up most of what we know as the universe.  (p. 60)

In the sayings of Jesus, from the Aramaic, darkness and light are held forth as balancing, equal forces.  There is no sense of light triumphing over, or being more god-like than, darkness.  Instead, nuhra (light, which also means illuminating intelligence) is balanced against hosech (darkness, which also means an older, more instinctive way of knowing).  Again quoting from Douglas-Klotz: 

The illumination of nuhra – working in the light and toward what some traditions call enlightenment – operates by straight-line methods. The work of indirect transformation – “endarkenment” – operates by curved methods.  St. John of the Cross called this experience of the latter type of spiritual work “the dark night of the soul.” In our lives we are constantly working to make sense of both these “universes” and to integrate them in our everyday lives  (p. 70)

I will end with Douglas-Klotz’s re-translation of  Luke 11:35, which is (in the KJV):  Take heed therefore that the light which is in thee be not darkness.

Take care in this circumstance;

When the light in you actually becomes darkness,

Then it is no longer light:

When your understanding loses its clarity

Or becomes lost in complexity,

It cannot claim to be teaching or illumination

Pay attention that you use clear understanding

For what is straightforward, able to be taught.

Use veiling and darkness for what

Is circular, indirect, only able to be suggested.

Gospel of the Self: Jungian Themes in the Aramaic New Testament, Part 4

Beatitudes One Through Four

This week we continue our series on the Aramaic translation of early Christian texts, and how those translations parallel core aspects of Jungian thought.  Some main points so far: 

• In the early years of the Church, there was a bias toward the use of Greek to write down and convey scriptures.  But the original Christians, those first century Judeans, almost certainly did NOT speak Greek, they spoke Aramaic.
•  Aramaic is an ancient language, well suited to conveying subtlety, layers of meaning, and words meant to mean many things at the same time.  Greek – and the related languages of Europe, including English – are well suited to making narrow distinctions and describing polarities.  Therefore, translation of Aramaic into Greek resulted in a narrowing of what was meant to be broad, symbolic language.
• The word “Alaha” in Aramaic means sacred unity, oneness, the All, the ultimate power or potential, and the One with no opposite.  The Greek translations reduced it to Deos – masculine creator deity – and English translations used the word God, a word with Nordic origins, from the same root as “good.”
•  Building from the Aramaic text, the familiar “Lord’s Prayer” becomes something very different from what we may have believed, having only heard the English translations.  It becomes, instead, a calling out to the ultimate unity that underlies all reality – what Jung might call the transcendent Self – and an acknowledgement that true relationship with the Self requires a clearing out of complexes, finding a clear space within, and attending to both the world above and the world below – embodiment and spirit together, growing through life’s experiences, becoming more fully and completely who we really are while remaining deeply connected to the larger pattern of meaning.

This week we move to some more passages from the New Testament that we may think we know, but perhaps don’t really know, because we have been reliant on very skewed translations.  These passages are known as the “Beatitudes,” and together they are called the Sermon on the Mount.  We will start with the first four this week and finish the remaining five next week, using the magnificent and insightful new translations from the Aramaic presented by Neil Douglas-Klotz in his book Prayer of the Cosmos:

The first beatitude is translated as follows, in the familiar KJV:

Blessed are the poor in spirit: for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.

In Aramaic: 

Tubwayhun l'meskenaee b'rukh d'dilhounhie malkutha d'ashmaya.

Douglas-Klotz’s translation:

Happy and aligned with the One are those who find their home in the breathing;

to them belong the inner kingdom and queendom of heaven.

Blessed are those who are refined in breath; they shall find

their ruling principles and ideals guided by God's light.

Tuned to the Source are those who live by breathing Unity;

their "I can!" is included in God's.

Healthy are those who devotedly hold fast to the spirit of life;

holding them is the cosmic Ruler of all that shines and rises.

Resisting corruption, possessing integrity are those whose

breath forms a luminous sphere; they hear the universal

Word and feel the earth's power to accomplish it through their own hands.

Healed are those who devote themselves to the link of spirit;

the design of the universe is rendered through their form.

The combination of the words “meskenaee” and “rukh” baffled the Greek translators.  Meskenaee means solid base, resting point, a numinous enclosure, or something to which one devotedly holds.  Rukh means breath, spirit, animating soul, whatever links one to life. The idea is that there is an all-pervading breath of animating life which can become the center or basis of one’s being.  When you come from that place, you cling less desperately to egoistic concerns and ego inflation.  In Jungian terminology, you become more Self-oriented and less ego-oriented. To the outsider, this may appear as humility, as reverence for something greater than oneself – hence “poor in spirit.”  But the interior experience is so much more deep and expansive.

And what does the beatitude say about the effects of living in this manner.  The lived experience of “I can” pervades everthing that one sees and experiences.  The world in which we live our lives is enlivened with natural confidence.  Heaven – shmaya – is with us and pervades us with a sense of order and confidence – malkutha.

The second beatitude is translated as follows, in the familiar KJV:

Blessed are they that mourn: for they shall be comforted

In Aramaic: 

Tubwayhun lawile d'hinnon netbayun

Douglas-Klotz’s translation:

Blessed are those in emotional turmoil; they shall be united

inside by love.

Healthy are those weak and overextended for their purpose;

they shall feel their inner flow of strength return.

Healed are those who weep for their frustrated desire; they

shall see the face of fulfillment in a new form.

Aligned with the One are the mourners; they shall be comforted.

Tuned to the Source are those feeling deeply confused by life;

they shall be returned from their wandering.

“Mourn” is a very narrow translation of the word “lawile,” which means anyone who longs deeply for something or someone that is lacking or missing, experiencing emotional turmoil, weakened by such longing. And “comforted” is a narrow translation of the Aramaic word “netbayun” which more fully means a return after a wandering, feeling inner unity or continuity, seeing the face of what you have been longing for, and being united inside by love.

Jung wrote about the ultimate purpose or meaning of suffering, particularly mental or emotional suffering, arising from those unhealed wounds we call complexes. The suffering that arises from complexes is a motivation to resolve the wound, to complete or at least move forward in the healing process. The complexes take us on mental journeys, typically experienced as turmoil and longing for release.  If we can persevere through this experience, what was fragmented – our psyches – can regain wholeness, an inner union, which is often described as a loving return home.

The third beatitude is translated as follows, in the familiar KJV:

Blessed are the meek: for they shall inherit the earth.

In Aramaic: 

Tubwayhun l'mskikhr d'hinnon nertun arha.

Douglas-Klotz’s translation:

Blessed are the gentle; they shall inherit the earth.

Healthy are those who have softened what is rigid within;

they shall receive physical vigor and strength from the universe.

Aligned with the One are the humble, those submitted to

God's will; they shall be gifted with the productivity of the earth.

Healed are those who have wept inwardly with the pain of

repressed desire; they shall be renewed in sympathy with nature.

Integrated, resisting corruption are those who have dissolved

heavy morality within; they shall be open to receive the

splendor of the earth's fruits.

What was translated as “meek” from the Aramaic to the Greek is actually more consistent with gentleness or softness, especially the softening of something that has been unnaturally hardened, a liquidification of something rigid, a surrender of a hardened position to something greater, as in surrender to Higher Power.  And the word translated as “inherit” is actually a process of “receiving something from a source of strength.” So the more nuanced Aramaic is something like “soften the hardness, and from that will come openness to strength from a higher power.” And this will be experienced in our embodiment, in our earthiness.

In Jungian terms, where complexes dominate we harden. We cannot think or feel our way out of these wounds.  They narrow and solidify what should be fluid and flexible – our sense of who we are and what is possible for us.  So, working with complexes may well be thought of as softening was has become hardened in our psyche, and from that softening comes a flow of psychic energy – libido – which enlivens our thinking, feeling, and bodies.

The fourth beatitude is translated as follows, in the familiar KJV:

Blessed are they which do hunger and thirst after righteousness:

for they shall be filled.

In Aramaic: 

Tubwayhun layleyn d'kaphneen watzheyn l'khenuta d'hinnon nishbhun.

Douglas-Klotz’s translation:

Blessed are those who hunger and thirst for physical

justice--righteousness; they shall be surrounded by what is

needed to sustain their bodies.

Healthy are those who turn their mouths to receive a new

birth of universal stability; they shall be encircled by the

birth of a new society.

Aligned with the One are those who wait up at night,

weakened and dried out inside by the unnatural state of the

world; they shall receive satisfaction.

Healed are those who persistently feel inside: "If only I

could find new strength and a clear purpose on which to

base my life"; they shall be embraced by birthing power.

Integrated, resisting delusion are those who long clearly for

a foundation of peace between the warring parts of themselves;

they shall find all around them the materials to build it.

The word “khenuta” does not equate very well to the English term “righteousness.”  Instead, khenuta comes closer in meaning to English words like natural stability, equilibrium, foundation, even justice.  Douglas-Klotz says that khenuta involves a sort of harmonizing the different voices we feel within, which are also mirrored in the outer world.  The word “layleyn” conveys the sense of someone who patiently awaits for this harmonizing to occur.

And what about the “hunger and thirst” mentioned in this beatitude?  Here is a quote from Douglas-Klotz:

The word translated as “hunger” (d’kaphneen) may also mean “to turn the mouth toward something,” or to long for strengthening the physical being.  “Thirst” (tzheyn) also conveys an image of being parched inwardly, dried out (we might say “burnt out). When we long for and finally receive a sense of inner justice and a reestablishment of harmony, we see the prpose of the hunger and thirst.  It has created an inner sense of radiance and clarity: the letting go will have been for a purpose. Another planting image from the Aramaic occurs in nishbun, satisfied, which also means to be “surrounded by fruit,” “encircled by birthing,” and “embraced by generation.”  (p. 54)

In Jungian terms, again referring to the suffering that comes from complexes, we all suffer from split personalities.  The only difference is the degree, and how we deal with it.  Complexes compete with the ego to be the center of consciousness, and when that happens, it affects both our physical bodies and our emotions.  Healing involves a harmonizing of those competing voices, and when it happens, it can be experienced as a release of physical and emotional longing – satisfaction of physical hunger and thirst is an excellent analogy.

In the outer world, this is the experience of  social activism. Something is imbalanced in the world and we hunger and thirst for balance to return, for justice to prevail.  It typically involves something physical and something emotional.  We hunger and thirst for change to occur, and we apply ourselves to that task. When justice does occur, it can be very satisfying – especially if we are doing our own inner work at the same time.  If we are drawn to a problem in the outer world, then almost certainly there is a parallel problem – a complex – in our inner world, and to learn the lesson fully, inner and outer must receive attention.

So, to wrap up, let’s hear Douglas-Klotz’s new translation of those first four beatitudes: 

Tuned to the Source are those who live by breathing Unity: their “I can!” is included in God’s.

Blessed are those in emotional turmoil; they shall be united inside by love.

Healthy are those who have softened what is rigid within; they shall receive physical vigor and strength from the universe.

Blessed are those who hunger and thirst for physical justice; they shall be surrounded by what is needed to sustain their bodies.

Gospel of the Self: Jungian Themes in the Aramaic New Testament, Part 3

Lord's Prayer, Second Half

This week we continue our series on the Aramaic translation of early Christian texts, and how those translations parallel core aspects of Jungian thought.  Some main points so far:

•  In the early years of the Church, there was a bias toward the use of Greek to record these texts.  The original Christians, those first century Judeans, almost certainly did NOT speak Greek, they spoke Aramaic.  Aramaic is an ancient language, well suited to conveying subtlety, layers of meaning, and words meant to mean many things at the same time.  Greek – and the related languages of Europe, including English – are well suited to making narrow distinctions and describing polarities.  Therefore, translation of Aramaic into Greek resulted in a narrowing of what was meant to be broad, symbolic language.
• The word “Alaha” in Aramaic means sacred unity, oneness, the All, the ultimate power or potential, and the One with no opposite.  The Greek translations reduced it to Deos – masculine creator deity – and English translations used the word God, a word with Nordic origins, from the same root as “good.”
• The first half of the Lord’s prayer, using the traditional English KJV, reads:  “Our Father which art in heaven, Hallowed be thy name. Thy kingdom come, Thy will be done in earth, as it is in heaven.”  One possible re-translation, more true to the original Aramaic, is offered by Neil Douglas-Klotz:  “O Birther!  Father-Mother of the Cosmos, focus you light within us – make it useful.  Create your reign of unity now – your one desire then acts with ours, as in all light, so in all forms.” 
•  This version shows many parallels to Jung’s concepts of the transcendent Self and the process of individuation. According to Douglas-Klotz, these three lines are about realizing that there is a pervasive unity beyond all opposites, clearing a space in consciousness for that unity to constellate, and then using that new consciousness to live a life that is both fully embodied and fully connected to archetypal energies.

Let’s move on now to the second half of the Lord’s Prayer, which in the KJV reads as follows:

9  11 Give us this day our daily bread.

 12 And forgive us our debts, as we forgive our debtors.

 13 And lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil: For thine is the kingdom, and the power, and the glory, for ever. Amen.

In Aramaic, the phrase translated as “Give us this day our daily bread” is Hawvlan lachma d'sunqanan yaomana.  Here is how Douglas-Klotz translates the subtle layers of meaning in the Aramaic:

Grant what we need each day in bread and insight:

subsistence for the call of

growing life.

Give us the food we need to grow

through each new day,

through each illumination of life's needs.

Let the measure of our need be earthiness:

give all things simple, verdant,

passionate.

Produce in us, for us, the possible:

each only-human step toward home

lit up.

Help us fulfill what lies within

the circle of our lives: each day we ask

no more, no less.

Animate the earth within us: we then

feel the Wisdom underneath

supporting all.

Generate through us the bread of life:

we hold only what is asked to feed

the next mouth.

Grant what we need each day in bread and insight.

The word lachma means both bread and understanding.  It comes from a feminine root that conveys warmth, passion, vigor, possibilities, and all instruments of generative power. It is the root of the word Hochma, holy wisdom, translated as “Sophia” in the Greek.

Another Aramaic word in this line, sunqanan, does mean “needs” but it also means “circle of possession,” “nest,” “or “numinous measure.”  The word “hawvlan” does mean “give,” but also means “humanly generate,” “produce with life and soul,” “animate with fruit.”

So what does this part of the prayer mean, using more Jungian terminology?  Once you have formed relationship with the Self, and have cleared consciousness of the complexes sufficiently for it to be lived and integrated, there are many blessings that come into our lives. We can take our mind from abstractions and get those smaller insights that get us through the day-to-day challenges of life. Our bodies – our earthiness – are not evil or a hindrance to our individuation.  We individuate through and with our embodiment.  We are fed by the outer world and by the unconscious, getting the energy to live life fully, and that allows us to feed each other.  This is a marked departure from the tendency to see meaning and peace as things that can be bought or won, and then hoarded.  Instead, meaning and peace rest upon a deep underlying source and an awareness of our connection to, and dependence on, that source.

In Aramaic, the next phrase in the prayer, translated as “And forgive us our debts, as we forgive our debtors,” is Wahboqlan khaubayn (wakhtahayn) aykanna daph khnan shbwoqan l'khayyabayn.  Here is how Douglas-Klotz translates the subtle layers of meaning in the Aramaic:

Loose the cords of mistakes binding us,

as we release the strands we hold

of others' guilt.

Forgive our hidden past, the secret shames,

as we consistently forgive

what others hide.

Lighten our load of secret debts as

we relieve others of their

need to repay.

Erase the inner marks our failures make,

just as we scrub our hearts

of others' faults.

Absorb our frustrated hopes and dreams,

as we embrace those of others

with emptiness.

Untangle the knots within

so that we can mend our hearts'

simple ties to others.

Compost our inner, stolen fruit

as we forgive others the spoils of

their trespassing.

Loose the cords of mistakes binding us,

as we release the strands we hold

of others' guilt.

Again, what might this mean from a Jungian point of view? The theme is “forgiveness,” as in a deep letting go of whatever binds us to things that have happened in the past, and hold each other in guilt in shame.   What is that requires forgiveness?  First, it is important to realize that the word “washboqlan” may be translated as “return to its original state,” “reciprocally absorb,” “reestablish slender ties to,” and “embrace with emptiness.” This calls to mind Jung’s ideas on how the psyche is wounded and heals itself.  When we are wounded by a trauma, our original state of wholeness and clarity is lost. Something cannot be integrated – absorbed – and it cannot be brought back into relationship with ego – a reestablishment of ties.  Where was once a sort of torment and fractured thoughts, now there is a calm openness and emptiness.

In the English translations, the word khaubayn is “debts,” “sins,” or “trespasses.” But the Aramaic subtle meanings are “hidden past,” “secret debt,” “mistakes,” “failures,” “Accidental offenses,” “frustrated hopes,” or “tangled threads.” So, again echoing Jungian concepts, the idea is of something that has become frayed or in need of mending.  The fabric of the psyche has become knotted with a complex, punctured with an unhealed wound, and it will take persistent effort for the mending to take place.  And that mending will take forgiveness, both for ourselves and for all those we have projected upon or experienced projection from.

In Aramaic, the next phrase in the prayers translated as “And lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil” is Wela tahlan l'nesyuna.  Ela patzan min bisha.  Here is how Douglas-Klotz translates the subtle layers of meaning in the Aramaic:

Don't let surface things delude us,

But free us from what holds us back

(from our true purpose).

Don't let us enter forgetfulness,

the temptation of false

appearances.

(To the fraud of inner vacillation--

like a flag tossed in the wind--

alert us.)

But break the hold of unripeness,

the inner stagnation that

prevents good fruit.

(From the evil of injustice--

the green fruit and the rotten--

grant us liberty.)

Deceived neither by the outer

nor the inner--free us to

walk your path with joy.

Keep us from hoarding false wealth,

and from the inner shame of

help not given in time.

Don't let surface things delude us,

But free us from what holds us back.

Commenting on this line, Douglas-Klotz remarks:  “These are probably the least understood and, because of the Greek version, the most mistranslated lines in the prayer. Wela tahlan could be translated as “don’t let us enter,” “don’t let us be seduced by the appearance of,” or “don’t let us heap up what’s false or illusory in.” 

Nesyuna does mean “temptation” but in the more Aramaic sense, which means something that leads to inner vacillation or agitation, diverting us from life’s purpose. The image associated with the Aramaic word is a flag blowing in the wind, blown here and there, like a mind tossed from one thought to another, seduced by the drama of each thought.  It’s a picture of forgetfulness, of forgetting one’s true nature, of losing oneself.

Ela patzan min bisha only very superficially translates as “deliver us from evil.” It actually refers to being loosened from, released from, something that is “unripe” and is therefore delaying or diverting us from moving forward, from individuating.  In Aramaic, the sense is that we are bound or sealed to something, carrying shame for not bearing better fruit, and we wish to be released.  In the words of Douglas-Klotz:

This line finishes the statement of the previous one: don’t let us be deluded by the surface of life, but neither let us become so inward and self-absorbed that we cannot act simply and humanly at the right time. The prayer reminds us that sometimes our ideals – including those of holiness, peace, and unity – carry us into the future or the past and make it difficult to be in the present when help is needed now.  (Prayers of the Cosmos, p. 42).

Moving now to the final line in the prayer, in Aramaic, the phrase translated as “For Thine is the kingdom, and the power, and the glory, for ever. Amen”  is Metol dilakhie malkutha wahayla wateshbukhta l'ahlam almin.  Ameyn.”  Douglas Klotz’s translation of the subtle layers of meaning in the Aramaic:

From you is born all ruling will,

the power and life to do, the song that beautifies all--

from age to age it renews.

To you belongs each fertile function:

ideals, energy, glorious harmony--

during every cosmic cycle.

Out of you, the queen- and kingship--

ruling principles, the "I can"

of the cosmos...

Out of you, the vital force

producing and sustaining all life,

every virtue...

Out of you, the astonishing fire,

the birthing glory, returning light and sound

to the cosmos...

Again and again, from each universal gathering--

of creatures, nations, planets, time, and space--

to the next.

Truly--power to these statements--

may they be the ground from which all

my actions grow:

Sealed in trust and faith.

Amen.

In this line, many of the Aramaic themes of the prayer are repeated.  The word “dilakhie” does not mean “possession” as the English translation implies.  It refers again to a fertile and abundant field, from which all can grow.

Malkutha, as we have discussed earlier, refers to that feeling of “I can” that permeates nature, and hayla further refers to energy that produces and sustains, not “power over,” but power that is in unison with all nature.   Taken together, these words form a fascinating parallet to the Jungian concept of synchronicity, that is, there is a great energetic pattern of meaning, both inside and all around us, and when we are cued into that pattern, miraculous events transpire with unlimited power.

The word “teshbukhta” refers to the glorious harmony, like a song, that returns divine light and sound to matter in equilibrium.  That, in the end, is the goal of individuation for each of us and for humanity overall.  Resolution of all conflict, the coming together of the world above and world below in harmony.

The Aramaic idiom “l'ahlam almin” doesn’t mean forever, it means “from age to age.”  The Aramaic idea is that the cosmos gathers and assembles, then slowly disperses again, over and over, a sort of cycle of gatherings that constitute long periods of time, like aeons.

Then there is that final word, amen.  In Aramaic, the translation is “truly,” or a sense of giving power to the words that proceed it, as in taking an oath.  It means to bring it all together, making it whole, here and now.

Taken all together, then, what might the Lord’s Prayer mean, building on the ancient Aramaic roots, translated into Jungian terms?  I propose the following, building on Douglas-Klotz’s translations, but with some Jungian vocabulary:

Oh transcendent Unity at the core of the psyche,

All-encompassing harmonizer.

May the light of consciousness shine forth,

Creating a clearing in which you may be known.

May our lives become a true enactment of the greater pattern

Our desires acting in concert with yours

As above, so below

In our lives here, pinned in time and space

May each day bring what we need to thrive and to grow

May there be a loosening of the cords that bind us

To our complexes

And may each of us, through forgiveness, loosen those cords for each other.

Don’t let us be deluded by superficial things,

But free us from what holds us back.

From you is born the great underlying pattern of meaning,

The constant miracles of synchronicity,

The incomparable song in which each of is a note,

Which renews from age to age.

Truly, may these words have power,

May they be the ground from which all my actions grow.

Gospel of the Self: Jungian Themes in the Aramaic New Testament, Part 2

Lord’s Prayer, First Half

This week we continue our series that I have called Gospel of the Self, in which we are unearthing some Jungian themes in the original Aramaic language of the New Testament.  As we discussed last week, from his earliest work in the early 1900s, Jung saw the significance of Christianity in modern European culture.  Even among those who called themselves scientific or atheistic, Jung saw the consequences of having grown up in a culture that was heavily influenced by Judeo-Christianity.  It was not all bad, of course. Like all religions, Christianity offers a path to understand and at least partially integrate greater than ourselves.  Jung believed that, at our core, we know that there is something immensely bigger than us.  At some level, we know that the thoughts that obsess our little sense of identity – who am I, what should I do, what is true, am I worthy, and so on – fade into a bigger pattern of meaning, where we are known and embraced absolutely, as an essential and inseparable strand in the great fabric of existence. Each of us are an amazing gift to creation, a coming together of precious elements that has never been known before in the history of mankind and will never be repeated again. Live your life fully and completely, Jung urges us – it is too precious to be wasted on doing only what is safe and acceptable to others.  And, at the same time, we are not separate or along at all.  We are the hopes and dreams of our ancestors, and the foundation on which future generations of seekers will be launched. It is our inclination to emphasize our separateness and forget or deny our connectedness to each other and to that Higher Power. Our ego wants to think that it is the master, even when that is obviously silly or terrifying. But, despite our best attempts to deny it, that bigger image of wholeness, which Jung called the Self, will break through in dreams and daily miracles.

Jung found some of these same themes in Christianity. The story is powerful – the Higher Power so wanted to know what it meant to be human, it became incarnated in a human being named Jesus.  He taught many lessons, and brought about many miracles, coming from this deep place of alignment with Higher Power. In the end, even the most malevolent forces of church and state – torture and execution – could not prevail because Jesus’ true identity was with the Higher Power. Jesus now serves as a bridge for any of use who wish to prevail through the darkness and come into the light of connection to Higher Power.  That is not, of course, the mainstream interpretation of the Christian myth, but it is the one that inspired Jung and the many thousands of Jungians that have followed.

Why is the other version of Christianity – with emphasis on sin, an exclusively good and masculine God, heaven for the saved, hell for the rest of us – the one that prevails in Christendom today?  In part, it is a translation problem.  Even in his time, Jung had access to older versions of Christian texts, in the language of Aramaic that is at least close to the language of 1^st Century Judea.  He knew there was something amiss with the translations used by the church.  Since Jung’s time, there have been many more Biblical scholars who have taken up exploring those old Aramaic texts, and what they discovered is that a lot of nuanced meaning was lost when the original Aramaic and Hebrew stories were translated into Greek. The Greek language, like related European languages of Latin, Spanish, French, German, and English, are very good at describing the physical world and conveying straightforward observations and facts.  They are not so good at describing larger patterns of meaning, symbolism, and layers of subtlety – which is where older languages like Aramaic are at their best. So, when the Council of Nicea went about selecting the official texts of the New Testament, and Greek translations got chosen, much of the richness of the original stories was lost. The translators tended to choose the most superficial meanings, as opposed to the more mystical meanings; where one version of the text could make the Higher Power sound like a king, and human beings like flawed vassals, that is the version they tended to accept, although other version were equally valid.

Most notable to us Jungians, the original Aramaic words are much closer to Jung’s ideas that the alternative Greek translations.  In Aramaic, for instance, there is a word “Alaha” that appears frequently in early Christian texts, which means sacred unity, oneness, the All, the ultimate power or potential, and the One with no opposite.  This is very, very close to what Jung called the Self.  But, the Greek translators of those old texts chose “Deos” for this word, which is more like a masculine creator deity, and the English translators chose the word “God” which is a northern Germanic word that means both ultimate deity and good.  Is it any surprise that the official dogma of the Christian church is that God is both fully masculine and fully good? Jung teaches us that this has had major impact on people for literally thousands of years – if God is perfect and male, where does that leave imperfection and feminity?  Jung would say, “in the human shadow.”  In other words, we have tended to see ourselves as broken, flawed, shameful, and unworthy at least in part because of how the official Christian church depicted the words of Jesus some 2,000 years ago.

But today we have new options. There have been enough of the old Aramaic texts discovered, and enough scholarship into the Aramaic language, that we can reclaim some of these Christian scriptures and hear them with new ears.  And what we find there is very familiar to us Jungians.

For the rest of today, we will be exploring the first part of the text that has come to be known as The Lord’s Prayer.  The translation that most of us are familiar with, if we were raised Christian, is as follows, appearing in Matthew Chapter 6, verses 9-13, King James Version (KJV):

9 Our Father which art in heaven, Hallowed be thy name.

 10 Thy kingdom come, Thy will be done in earth, as it is in heaven.

 11 Give us this day our daily bread.

 12 And forgive us our debts, as we forgive our debtors.

 13 And lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil: For thine is the kingdom, and the power, and the glory, for ever. Amen.

With a few minor variations, that is the translation that most Christians learned and have recited for generations.  Let’s start with just the first line, which is “Abwoon d’bwashmaya” in Armaic.  Using a translation from the Aramaic supplied by Neil Douglas-Klotz, here is an alternative translation of that line, capturing more of the nuanced meanings:

O Birther! Father-Mother of the Cosmos,

you create all that moves

in light.

O Thou! The Breathing Life of all,

Creator of the Shimmering Sound that

touches us.

Respiration of all worlds,

we hear you breathing--in and out--

in silence.

Source of Sound: in the roar and the whisper,

in the breeze and the whirlwind, we

hear your Name.

Radiant One: You shine within us,

outside us--even darkness shines--when

we remember.

Name of names, our small identity

unravels in you, you give it back

as a lesson.

Wordless Action, Silent Potency--

where ears and eyes awaken, there

heaven comes.

O Birther! Father-Mother of the Cosmos!

As Douglas-Klotz explains, the word “abwoon” can be separated into multiple parts.  The first part is “ab” which means “that which germinates from the source of Unity.”  It can mean either a personal or spiritual parent, father or mother, but the original root is genderless, meaning something more like “birther of the cosmos.”  “bw” means a flow of blessing, proceeding from the interior of this Oneness to all of creation, including us humans.  “oo” means breath and energy, something like “life force.”  And “n” means the vibration of this creative force from Oneness as it touches, interpenetrates, and takes on form.

The next word in this line is “d’bwashmaya” which English translators have translated as “in heaven.”  But the Aramaic view of heaven is radically different from what typically comes to mind when most westerners hear the word.  The Aramaic root is “shem” which means light, sound, vibration, name, or word.  It means the entire manifestation of a being, including not just the sound of its name, but the entire atmosphere or vibrational field that surrounds it.  By appending “aya” at the end of this word, it takes on a much bigger meaning, encompassing everything, every center of activity, every place, and the potential in all of this.  Here is how Douglas-Klotz puts it:  “In effect, shmaya says that the vibration or word by which one can recognize the Oneness – God’s name – is the universe.”  In other words, if you want to grasp the nature of the Higher Power, of the Self, tune into the deep vibration of everything, everywhere.  That, of course, is impossible for a mere human to do, which is why we are constantly reaching for it, integrating some aspect of it, and falling short of full understanding, leading to further and further explorations.

This is quite consistent with what Jung tried to convey about the Self. We can dimly intuit its wholeness, that it contains a resolution of all opposites, that it includes every possibility for us, but we can only “circumambulate” it, travel round and round it, but never capture it in words or concepts.  All religion is just an attempt to lead us to that place, but religion is also bound by words and concepts, so they also fall short.  But the experiences of the Self are undeniable.  It comes to us in dreams and visions, and our daily life is full of those miracles that Jung called synchronicities.  Where do you find experiences of the Self – everywhere and in everything, inner and outer, in waking life and in dreams.  As they would say in Aramaic, “shmaya.”

And that is just the first line!

Now let’s move to the second line.  In Aramaic, it is “Nethqadash shmakh,”  translated as “Hallowed be thy name” in KJV.  And here is Douglas-Klotz’s alternative, multi-layered translation:

Focus your light within us--make it useful:

as the rays of a beacon

show the way.

Help us breathe one holy breath

feeling only you--this creates a shrine

inside, in wholeness.

Help us let go, clear the space inside

of busy forgetfulness: so the

Name comes to live.

Your name, your sound can move us

if we tune our hearts as instruments

for its tone.

Hear the one Sound that created all others,

in this way the Name is hallowed

in silence.

In peace the Name resides:

a "room of one's own," a holy of holies

open, giving light, to all.

We all look elsewhere for this light--

it draws us out of ourselves--but the Name

always lives within.

Focus your light within us--make it useful!

The second word in this line, shmakh, is another variation of the Aramaic root “shm,” which again means both “name” and “entire atmosphere or field by which someone or something is known.”  The Greek translators, and the English ones that used the Greek translations, chose the most straightforward meaning of “name.”  But, in the more nuanced Aramaic language, we are told that another action is needed in order for the holiness of that name/field to be realized by us.  We must evoke or create a holy place for it.  The word is “nethqadash” and in Aramaic it evokes the image of someone clearing or sweeping a piece of ground in preparation for planting something there. More specifically, the image is of a person bending her or his head over a special place where seeds will be sown, showing both devotion and perseverance in the task.  It is the idea of creating a sort of inner shrine, a place that is uncluttered by random thoughts and worries, and it is in this place that the Oneness can make itself known.  In the words of Douglas-Klotz, “In Aramaic, the prayer always directs us in a practical fashion. To make the experience of Abwoon useful we need to create a place for this Oneness to live inside. Then the light of shem – the clarity or intelligence that arises in ultimate peace – becomes usable on an everyday basis, like light in a lamp.” (p. 25)

As with the first line of the prayer, this second line parallels Jungian thought in many ways once it is revealed in its Aramaic layers of meaning.  How does a person integrate the Self, that deep source of identity?  We must cultivate consciousness. If we are unconscious, we are mostly living out of the pain of our history.  We spend most of our time replaying the old tapes of how we were hurt, how we were disrespected, how we were disappointed, how hard life it, how it is unfair, and so on.  That is what Jung called complexes, and if they consume too much energy, they can literally kill us.  But there is another choice.  Through hard work, often with the help of a trained therapist, we can stop the endless playing of those tapes. Meditation can also be very helpful.  Then, there comes a clearing, a place of light and of openness to the Oneness.  Borrowing language from alchemy, Jung called it a “temenos” or “vas” which means a tight container which can hold the process until transformation occurs.  That is the inner temple, the nethqadash.

Let’s move to the third line, which is “Teytey malkuthakh” in Aramaic, translated in the KSJ as “thy kingdom come.”  And here is Douglas-Klotz’s translation from the Aramaic:

Create your reign of unity now--

through our fiery hearts

and willing hands.

Let your counsel rule our lives,

clearing our intention

for co-creation.

Unite our "I can" to yours, so that

we walk as kings and queens

with every creature.

Desire with and through us

the rule of universal fruitfulness

onto the earth.

Your rule springs into existence

as our arms reach out to

embrace all creation.

Come into the bedroom of our hearts,

prepare us for the marriage of

power and beauty.

From this divine union, let us birth

new images for a new world

of peace.

Create your reign of unity now!

According to Douglas-Kloz, in this third line of the prayer the holy space that we created inside can now become the space where we envision and prepare for new creation.  The word “teytey” does mean “come” in the most superficial sense, but it also means mutual desire and the fulfillment of mutual desire.  It can also mean “nuptual chamber” where marriage results in satisfaction of mutual desire and the beginning of the birth of something new.

The second word, “malkuthakh,” means “quality of rulership and ruling principles that guide our lives toward unity.”  It is genderless, so it could have been translated as “queendom,” and perhaps that is the more appropriate translation in that the word “malkatuh,” from the same Aramaic root, was an ancient name for the Great Mother goddess.  The imagery associated with the word “malkuthakh” is very earthy.  Imagine the great verdant potential of the earth, just poised to unfold or release the bounty of life – that is malkuthakh.  As Douglas Klotz explains, the ancients observed that everything in the natural world seemed poised to take on its role or purpose without hesitation, a divine “I can” that could not be held back.  Those who expressed a similar quality in the community rose to leadership as kings and queens.  But these human leaders did not own this quality, they only reflected what was in nature.  By extension, malkuthatkh can mean any sort of collective ideal or underlying ruling principle that guides or directs the life of a community or nation.  So, in the third line of the prayer, we are asking that our personal ideas come to be aligned with the deeper ideals of the creator so that we, like the earth, might move toward Oneness and creativity.

Jung said that our deepest impulse as human beings is to individuate, to become more fully and completely who we really are.  Individuation is not done in isolation, nor is it an act of pure will power.  It is an alignment of one’s ego with with one’s true purpose and fully experiencing one’s personal destiny in social and historical context.  The Self yearns for us to be creative seekers of meaning, and when we align our vision with that deeper yearning, nothing can stand in our way.   That seems very close to the meaning of “teytey malkuthakh.”

That brings us to the fourth line of the prayer, for which the Aramaic words are “Nehwey tzevyanach aykanna d'bwashmaya aph b'arha.”  The KSJ transation is:  “Thy Will be done in earth, as it is in heaven.”  Here is how Douglas-Klotz translates it from the Aramaic:

Your one desire then acts with ours,

as in all light, so in

all forms.

Let all wills move together

in your vortex, as stars and planets

swirl through the sky.

Help us love beyond our ideals

and sprout acts of compassion

for all creatures.

As we find your love in ours,

let heaven and nature form

a new creation.

Unite the crowd within

in a vision of passionate purpose:

light mates with form.

Create in me a divine cooperation--

from many selves, one voice,

one action.

Let your heart's fervent desire

unite heaven and earth

through our harmony.

Your one desire then acts with ours,

as in all light, so in

all forms.

Douglas-Klotz says,  “In this fourth and most central line of the prayer, heaven meets earth in acts of compassion.”  We have come to know and recognize the Oneness, we have cleared a place for it, and we have aligned ourselves with the deeper processes and patterns of life.  All of that has been preparation for action.

One way to translate the word “tzevyanach” is “will,” but again that is a very superficial translation, because it implies forcing something by trying very hard to make it happen.  That is not the Aramaic sense of the word, for which the image is celestial bodies swirling in the heavens, following their natural orbits. These orbits are not acts of will; the earth does not will itself to travel around the sun.  It is in the natural state of things for this to occur.  So it is with tzevyanach.  Once there is the kind of fundamental alignment we have been discussing, the next steps do not require force; they come naturally.

The phrase “ahkanna d’washmaya aph b’arha” can literally be translated into English as “in heaven just as in earth,” but there are, of course, subtler Aramaic meanings.  We have already discussed d’washmaya as meaning the naturally occurring vibration or atmosphere of the higher power.  B’arha means not just earth, but all forms, everything that we human perceive as solid reality, even though physics tells us that all matter is just vibrating energy fields.  So, another way to translate the fourth line of the Lord’s Prayer is:  “that which is above is like that which is below, and that which is below is like that which is above, to produce the miracle of one sole thing,” a line from the Emerald Tablet.  The all-permeating Oneness manifests in forms, but the underlying unity only appears to be broken and separated into individual forms.  All is one in Alaha.  We can and must hold this “world below” reverentially, including our own bodies; the physical dimension is no less or no more Alaha than the spiritual or vibrational dimension.  It all mirrors tzevyanach, the natural order.

Jung wrote extensively on this concept.  He revered the writing of the alchemists, and in particular their idea that there is a “spark” of divinity that lives in every human being.  We are not just humans having spiritual experiences, we are spirits having human experiences.  Individuation is the coming together of these dimension in harmony, not by some act of willpower, but because there is no other way to live life with deep honor and meaning.