Jesus Face

 

In the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit, a good portion of the world population has been pacified. We have been told repeatedly that blessed are the meek, the poor, and the downtrodden. We lift up our eyes and take refuge in that sad, crucified figure and pin our hopes on a better life... after we are dead. Meanwhile the puppet masters and deity designers feast on a spiritually deadened population that is paralyzed with fear. A delicious irony it is that we have been pacified by an image of a true rebel. We have been beseeched to turn the other cheek, to put down our swords and to give up our will to a "greater will" in exchange for an eternal, blissful afterlife. Was this rebel not the one who turned over the tables of the moneychangers in the temple? Was he not the one who came to put a sword between mother and daughter, father and son? Was he not the one who would light the sky afire with power and great glory?

That old master-poet was not mindful of obedience or rebellion. He did not seek out violence. He sought the stark truth that can split stone and make mountains move from their place. And let all else be damned. He was a dangerous figure who would ignite the hearts of the masses with a creative fire and breathe into their lungs a breath as mysterious and primordial as the Universe itself. He did not teach submissiveness or obedience to stale traditions but rather questioned all authorities who would impose their truth on the human spirit, who would suffocate the childlike innocence in all of us, and who would deafen our ears to the song of the Universe.

He was portrayed by the learned of his day as a rogue, self-proclaimed teacher possessed of evil or as a crazed, homeless and lost dreamer wandering the countryside. Although he was quite knowledgeable in the Jewish tradition, he wanted nothing of its customs and traditions; rather he used it cleverly to further his point. He distanced himself from ideologies, religions and gods of any kind. He preferred to spend his days and nights with the rejects of society rather than to dine with the scribes and high priests of his day. He was scourged, beaten and crucified not because he was intoxicated by the creative wine of the Universe but because he threatened the establishment of his day. He sought to free the minds of the masses. And when the authorities could not put out his blaze and confine his spirit to a tomb, they sought to control the flame by elevating him to the right hand of their god and, in his name, demand blind obedience from on high, under penalty of everlasting torture.

The plight of that ancient master is no less relevant today than two thousand years ago. In fact, to think of him as a historical figure is to do ourselves a disservice. That ancient master is none other than our heart seeking to expand into the infinite vicissitudes of space. And such growth is never achieved without pain. The gospel of that ancient master is the story of our heart. He lives now, just as he lived two thousand years ago and many millennia before that. If we however should insist that the old master lived and died for you and me, then we must understand the meaning of this. He died so that we may be freed of gods and demons, of saviors and ideologies. He died so that our hearts may roam freely and our minds may be arrested by the miracle in every breath of life. He died so that we may be unshackled from fear.

For a long time now, our spirits have been hijacked by a shadowy meme, a system or paradigm that is powered only by fear. It demands blind obedience and assimilation and warns that our eternal character hangs in the balance. Those who question its foundation are thrown into the pits of its hell and made to squirm for an eternity. Its aim is total control. It walks the halls of religious temples dressed in fine robes. It masquerades as savvy politicians and learned men who would rule peoples and nations. It is a hungry animal that has infected our knowledge and corrupted the integrity of the human spirit. We however must be careful lest we should put the blame on a person or a group of persons. For we are up against unseen forces that cannot be exorcised by removing those that sit on thrones or in parliament. Rather, these forces haunt the inner reaches of our own minds. It is there where we must shine a light without any fear of what we might discover. It is the underworld where we must descend, just as the master had done, and confront this shadow and resurrect to a new life, a new way of seeing. For then we will truly understand the miracles of the master and be healed of our infirmities.

Strange... The more I befriend my solitude, the more people desire my company.