Here we talked about the creation of the material world and embodied intelligences (us) by God. Over here we looked at how truly free creatures must be created at a certain “distance” from God’s perfection, with the (probably inevitable) corollary that at least some, if not most, of them will fall away to one degree or another. Let us now start connecting these two threads and see where this leads us.
First, it is worth pointing out a slight nuance in the concept of the Fall. To the orthodox, the Fall of mankind came after embodiment. That is, humans were originally created as embodied souls. Since humans were, in this narrative, primordially innocent, there was thus nothing “wrong” with embodiment. Had the Fall not occurred, humans would have lived embodied lives in innocent perfection. Embodiment is a feature, not a bug, so to speak. The Fall distorted the relationship of body and soul; but that relationship in and of itself is fundamentally good. It is also important to point out that in this model, we don’t have a body; that is, we are not actually a spirit that just inhabits a corporeal form. Rather, we are a body; or better, we are a holistic combination of body and soul making up one single hypostasis (person).
C. S. Lewis puts it in somewhat mystical language in Chapter 14 of The Great Divorce:
I saw a great assembly of gigantic forms all motionless, all in deepest silence, standing forever about a little silver table and looking up on it. And on the table were little figures like chessmen who went to and fro doing this and that. And I knew that each chessman was the idolum or puppet of some one of the great presences that stood by. And the acts and motions of each chessman were a moving portrait, a mimickry or pantomime, which delineated the inmost nature of his giant master. And these chessmen are men and women as they appear to themselves and to one another in the world. And the silver table is Time. And those who stand and watch are the immortal souls of those same men and women.
Thus the body and the soul are in a sense different manifestations of the same thing, merely seeming different (puppet vs. giant) because of our perception of time.
In the Gnostic mythos, the body, along with the rest of the material cosmos, is created by the evil and/or ignorant Demiurge, who makes it as a sort of imperfect, Bizarro-world copy of the dimly perceived Pleroma (the perfect spiritual world of the Aeons, the angelic intelligences created by God). Thus, embodiment is a bad thing, as the material world itself is a bad thing, at best a pale reflection of the true Good, at worst a cesspit of suffering and limitation. Some versions of the Gnostic mythos posit embodiment as a theft of the Light–the spiritual essence that comes from the Pleroma–by the Demiurge and his Archons; in some versions, Sophia (the Aeon whose sin led to the existence of the Demiurge in the first place) deliberately “seeds” the human body with the Light, as a long-term “time bomb” that will defeat the Demiurge and ultimately bring about the end of the material cosmos. In this reading, embodiment is a good thing for the goal it will ultimately achieve; but it is still bad for us at the present. Our goal is to escape embodiment and return to the Pleroma.
Thus, the Gnostic perspective holds embodiment to happen after the Fall, or perhaps to be a sort of Fall itself; and the antagonism of the spirit and the body is not an accident, but it is baked into the cake, so to speak. We are not a body-soul amalgam, as in orthodoxy, but a soul–our true self–which is unfortunately connected to a body (or possibly many bodies–some forms of Gnosticism posit reincarnation) as a result of the entrapment of the Light in matter.
I died as a mineral and became a plant, I died as plant and rose to animal, I died as animal and I was Man. Why should I fear? When was I less by dying? Yet once more I shall die as Man, to soar With angels blest; but even from angelhood I must pass on: all except God doth perish. When I have sacrificed my angel-soul, I shall become what no mind e’er conceived. Oh, let me not exist! for Non-existence Proclaims in organ tones, To Him we shall return.
–Mevlâna Jalāl ad-Dīn Muḥammad Rūmī,”I Died as a Mineral”, as translated in The Mystics of Islam (1914) edited by Reynold Alleyne Nicholson, p. 125; courtesy of Wikiquote
I’m not putting this officially in the “Legends of the Fall” series, because it’s a bit tangential. Nevertheless, I’ve been writing about Hell of late, and I’ve written about reincarnation quite a bit around here, so I thought this might be of interest. I don’t necessarily endorse every specific aspect of this; but there are large parts I’d tend to agree with, too. Note particularly the concept that reincarnation can work backwards in time as well as forwards (remember, our time is meaningless from a Pleromic viewpoint); and that we all ultimately live as everyone else, and so just desserts are automatically taken care of.
Among other things, a strange take on reincarnation. Also a good description of how Wednesdays often feel….
Having thought about it, I have decided occasionally to post my own original poems here. Comments are welcome–just be honest, and if you re-post or quote, give due credit. This was written about twenty-five years ago or so during a more or less Buddhist/Hindu phase of my life.
They say that ever when a life is spent
The spirit lingers for a moment while
Reviewing all the deeds of life just past:
The good, the bad, the undone and the done,
The joys, the woes. This reverie complete
The soul ascends, more swift than beams of light
Surpassing all the planets and the stars
Until it comes into the Atman’s realm
Awaiting incarnation once again.
But ere the soul return to take anew
Its cloak of flesh, again to trod the earth,
It tastes the realization of True Self
Dissolving into Brahman infinite.
Now from this vantage point omniscient
The soul, once human, now divine surveys
The trackless starry sweep of cosmos and
The formless, nameless That from whence it sprang;
The myriad myriad creatures manifest
Who sing their lives with vast cacophony
Of voice and note, who come and live and die;
And also the supernal quietude Read the rest of this entry