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.