Dear Brothers and Sisters, Friends, and Fellow-Travelers,
I am writing this in response to one of Eric’s recent questions,
about some of our mythology regarding Sophia, the feminine
personification of divine wisdom (I am holding off until next time
the other question about the pairing of the aeons).
I was very struck by Eric’s way of formulating the question: “Why is
Sophia the one who got into trouble?” which puts the question very
succinctly and very powerfully I think. For the benefit of those of
you who may not be as familiar with Gnostic creation myths, let me
briefly review the story that Eric is raising. Please note that I
am essentially harmonizing and conflating several different creation
accounts from the Nag Hammadi texts, in order to produce a “typical”
version of the Gnostic creation story � of course, strictly speaking
there can never be such a version, given the dynamic quality of
Gnostic myth-expression, but if you will grant me your patience, I
hope to make a few suggestions that may be helpful to you in your
own explorations of Gnostic mythology.
We pick up the story in the midst of the “pleroma” or the spiritual
realm which has been brought into existence by emanations emerging
outward (metaphorically, not spatially) from the source of spirit,
which we call God. Sophia is one of the aeons or spiritual beings
that inhabit this pleroma. For reasons that are never fully clear
in the stories, Sophia longs to produce something on her own, apart
from the rest of the pleroma, and in so doing she gives birth to a
child that is monstrously deformed in terms of its spiritual
identity � “On the Origin of the World” portrays the imperfect
aspects of the child as being formed like “an abortion without any
spirit in it.” It is this child of Sophia who becomes Yaldabaoth,
the Demuirgos, the demiurge and shaper of the physical realm or
cosmos.
Yaldabaoth is above all a mixed being, a being divided against
himself, constantly torn apart by the forces that war within him, by
the contest between the parts of his identity that are the “abortion
without any spirit in it” and the parts that are in fact the
spiritual principle he has inherited from Sophia. Again, the
gradual self-realization of the demiurge is portrayed most vividly
in On the Origin of the World, where Yaldabaoth emerges up out of
the waters and darkness of chaos, looks around and sees nothing but
himself and chaos, since he is separated by a veil of darkness from
a full vision of the pleroma � and proclaims himself as the only God
and ruler of the chaos. It is in this supreme act of suffering and
divided will, detached from spiritual awareness, that the physical
realm comes into existence. What was spiritual in Yaldabaoth
remains spirit trapped in the formalisms of physical space-time.
Sophia looks down into the chaos over which Yaldabaoth asserts his
reign, and out of pure compassion (like that of Christ) she
dedicates herself to the liberation of that spirit � the liberation
we call gnosis.
Last night, I spent some time talking to one of our dear sisters who
has a great devotion to Sophia, but a tempestuous one and she gets
angry with her. “Why,” she asks, “would Sophia do these things that
brought about, even if indirectly, pain and sorrow?” Many people
seem to have these feelings about the mythological structure.
I say, to the contrary, these myths give us profound ways to
conceptualize Sophia and radical hope for the future of our own
individual and collective spiritual liberation. Remember, dualities
are part of the physical cosmos � actually, they constitute the
cosmos. We are so enmeshed in these dualities that we want to apply
them to our myths. We want Sophia to be ashamed of her mistakes; we
find her present centrality to our liberation an intolerable pride
given the stories we tell about her. But the Thunder: Perfect Mind
gives Sophia’s voice to reply to just such sentiments: “For I am
knowledge and ignorance. / I am shame and boldness. / I am
shameless; I am ashamed.”
In other words, all this is to say that spirit purely transcends all
dualities, but to us � mired as we are in a world defined by
dualities � this transcendence manifests itself as something that
encompasses both sides of the dualities. So, again in the words of
the Thunder: Perfect Mind, ” I am the one who has been hated
everywhere / and who has been loved everywhere. / I am the one whom
they call Life, / and you have called Death. / I am the one whom
they call Law, / and you have called Lawlessness.”
Further, our myths about Sophia demonstrate the ultimate optimism of
Gnosticism. It is true that we are tragic optimists, and much of
what we say can be misinterpreted as pessimistic in terms of how we
view the limitations placed on spirit in the cosmos. In the long
run, however, we fall back on the understanding that what is
spiritual within us contains our true destiny. So what do the myths
of Yaldabaoth and Sophia say to us? They say we can move forward.
Before we have any experience of gnosis, we are strikingly like
Yaldabaoth; we suffer without knowing the cause of suffering, we
comfort ourselves with delusions too often, we mistake control over
others for love. But through the process of spiritual liberation,
we become like Sophia in transforming ourselves into agents of
compassion and indeed agents of the spiritual liberation of others.
Indeed in the mythic structure, there is no reason to suppose that
Yaldabaoth himself will not eventually heed the call of Sophia
fully, and emerge from the chaos into the unity of the pleroma.
Let me close by sharing one more thing from “On the Origin of the
World.” In describing the origin of Yaldabaoth’s name, the text
tells us that Sophia calls out to the demiurge, mired in chaos,
saying “Ialda Baoth which means ‘Child pass through here.'” We too
are mixed beings, we too suffer, we too find ourselves imprisoned in
the dualities that surround us and grip us in their vise. And
yet…and yet…we too hear that call, Sophia crying out to us in
her tragic compassion: “Pass through here.” As we begin to ascend,
we reach first the darkness of that veil that separates cosmos from
pleroma, and this is disorienting, frightening, like a great abyss.
But as we hold to the path, we begin to see emerging out of that
darkness the beauty of a pure existence, unlimited, undivided, no
longer separated. And that, I think, is the final message of
Sophia’s story, for she, like Christ, gives us not only the call to
take this journey, but a model for what we shall become when we
surrender ourselves to her embrace.
In Christ and Sophia,
Matthew
————————————————————————–
Dear Brothers and Sisters, Friends, and Fellow Travelers,
I am finally back home from my trip! I just wanted to let you all know that I am
back and if you have sent me emails or messages, I will get to them as soon as I
can. I am copying some text from an email I sent earlier today about Sophia, in
case some of you might find it interesting. It was in reply to a lengthy email
by a Romanian inquiring about a number of things including possible connections
between Orthodox and Gnostic theology. Love in Christ and Sophia,
First, about our geographical location — most of our members live across the
United States, although we also have members and supporters in Canada, the
Phillippines, and Italy. We have a strong emphasis on supporting the
individual’s spiritual search, especially in areas where there are few other
people pursuing the Gnostic path. We also encourage the formation of
semi-independent local groups and churches, and currently have formed or are
forming several in the United States, in Texas, Tennessee, Virginia, and Las
Vegas. We are always looking for new groups to form and hopefully will continue
to expand local communities outside North America as well. Our local groups all
have a great deal of autonomy and independence while linked together in a
democratic communion of fellowship.
I am indeed familiar with Sergei Bulgakov’s work. It may be interesting to you
that there are certain similarities that western Gnosticism shares more in
common with the Orthodox and eastern Christian churches than it does with
western Christianity. As the east and west began to diverge over the centuries,
eastern theologians and philosophers came to emphasize what we call in English
“theosis” or the transformation and transcendence of the human into the divine.
For example, Basil the Great reportedly put it by saying “the human being is an
animal that has the calling to become God.”
You can see that such an idea is similar — though not exactly the same — as
our concept of “gnosis” or the gaining of experiential knowledge of the divine
within us. For example, in the Gospel of Thomas we read Jesus saying that, “I
am the light that pervades all things. I am the totality. From me the totality
come forth, and unto me did the totality extend. Split a piece of wood, and I am
there. Lift up the stone, and you will find me there” (saying 77). Yet at the
very same time, we also read Jesus say that we too can take up the same kind of
relationship to God and the “totality” or pleroma (spiritual realm): “They who
will drink from my mouth will become like me. I myself shall become them, and
the things that are hidden will be revealed to them” (saying 108). In other
words, gnosis is conceived as being a radical transformation of the self by
which we become “divinized” — or more precisely, we come to see the divine that
is already in the core of our being, all around
us, “pervading all things.” This is ultimately what we mean by gnosis, which is
both this state of enlightenment and the process by which we pursue it.
This kind of thinking never became a major part of Latin Christianity, and I
think this is part of why today many Gnostics feel such a split from western
Christianity but also why so many people are becoming interested in Gnosticism.
On the other hand, it is true that some western Christians, especially mystics
and visionaries, took up the theme of Sophia and developed it into what became
known in Latin as “Sapientia” or Wisdom. Sapiential theology, which was
promoted by people like Hildegard of Bingen, revolved around focusing on the
feminine relationship of the individual to divine wisdom, the mediation of that
space between the divine and the human, so that it can be crossed, or entered.
This, however, never has really become a part of the mainstream Christianity of
the west.
Sophia is a very complex force in contemporary Gnostic belief. Sometimes we
speak of her as a being, like a character, and sometimes like an abstracted
force like Wisdom, but in essence she stands as a symbol that transcends this
kind of category and is at the same time neither one and both, as we can read in
texts like the Thunder Perfect Mind. Let me try to summarize, however, three
fundamental roles that Sophia plays to the system of Gnosticism.
Sophia functions as a representation or symbol of the forces that can propel us
along the journey of gnosis, as well as the goals for which we strive. Gnosis
— “knowledge” — is in the end seen as leading to “Wisdom,” something even more
intimate, a deep and indissoluble connection between the human person and the
spirit/God. Sophia also represents the importance of the feminine nature of
this process, emphasizing such charcteristics as silence, the “dark night of the
soul,” mystical awareness.
This helps us see a second function of Sophia. In the Gnostic system, she
serves as a sort of counterbalance to Christ. She complements Christ, and makes
Christ complete, just as he makes her complete. The Gnostic Christ is above all
both the Logos or Word and the speaker of the Logos, sending it out into the
world, as he does in the Gospel of Thomas. Sophia complements this by
representing what the Thunder Perfect Mind calls “the silence that is
incomprehensible” — the moments when words and even the Logos/Word fail us and
we are simply overwhelmed by the mystery of what we experience as we move along
life’s journey. As human beings, we face the paradox that we must speak about
the spirit in order to move toward it, but in the end we must also find that we
can never speak in a way that contains the spirit within material language.
Similarly, Christ is experienced fundamentally as Light, illuminating our
journeys, Sophia is experienced as darkness — the darkness of the
night where we abandon our pretensions and surrender to the beauty of the divine
that pervades our very beings. We could carry these ideas out in many different
examples. If Christ is a solid, like a rock, strong and ever-present, Sophia is
like liquid — always present, but in the way she flows around us gently,
passively it would even appear.
The third function of Sophia is that she is also an important figure in Gnostic
mythology. The early Gnostics told many stories about the nature of the world,
about creation, and how things came to be, and so forth. Now it is important of
course to understand that these stories are simply that — stories that we use
to symbolize and reflect on mysteries of the universe around us. Sophia as a
“character” or entity in these stories is very deeply and centrally figured.
There are various Gnostic myths, but in a common myth, we see God emanating
spirit out from God’s self, producing the “pleroma” including Christ and Sophia
(and our own spiritual natures). Sophia, however, comes to desire to produce
something on her own, apart from the rest of God, and ultimately gives birth to
a being/force that is imperfect, separated from the divine — what the myths
call the “demiurge” who in turn becomes the “creator” of the material world,
which is imperfect just as the demiurge is
imperfect, systemically. But Sophia is not a “villain” in this story — it is a
great story of redemption, because she is shown as subsequently being the force
that works to bring about our liberation from imperfections and our
reunification with the rest of the pleroma or spiritual reality. In one version
of the myth, the very production of the demiurge in a sense splits Sophia into
half, a Heavenly Sophia and an earthly one, who long for reunification. It is
the earthly Sophia, moved by her Heavenly counterpart, that comes to the human
beings in the demiurge’s “garden” in the form of a humble, simple animal — the
snake — to lead people on their first steps toward reunification. In a
symbolic sense, then, she becomes our bridge, and we become hers.
I hope this gives you some things to think about and I hope to hear from you
soon. Please accept my warmest blessings and wishes for peace for you and your
family.
—
Brother Matthew Ouroboros
http://www.gnostic-church.org/
As Jesus was walking along, he saw a man called Matthew sitting at the tax
booth; and he said to him, “Follow me.” And he got up and followed him. And as
he sat at dinner in the house, many tax collectors and sinners came and were
sitting with him and his disciples. When the Pharisees saw this, they said to
his disciples, “Why does your teacher eat with tax collectors and sinners?” But
when he heard this, he said, “Those who are well have no need of a physician,
but those who are sick. Go and learn what this means, ‘I desire mercy, not
sacrifice.’
Matthew 9:9-13a
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