Jeannot
Jeannot
THE PATH
The original disciples of Jesus did not call themselves Christians, but followers of the Way, or the Path. (Greek, hodos).
After Jesus restores sight to Bartimaeus in Mark 10:52, he tells him,
"’Go. Your trust (or belief) has saved you.’ And Bartimaeus followed Jesus on the Path. (en te hodo)" And throughout the Book of Acts we find references to "the Way."
In the non-canonical gospel of Thomas, Jesus says "I am not your teacher. Because you have drunk, you have become intoxicated from the bubbling spring that I have tended."
My thesis is that Jesus came to point out to us the "Way," the path to "salvation."
A perfectly acceptable reading of the Bartimaeus story is that Jesus opened his eyes to his vocation, his calling – indeed the calling of everyone. Bartimaeus was enlightened. He knew what he must do, so he stopped standing still, and started moving in the along the path that Jesus had indicated.
Like Zoroaster or Buddha, Jesus spent the first part of his life developing insights from observation. Then, like them, he shared them with those around him.
It's interesting that Jesus chose not to write a book. One wonders, if he wanted to share his insights, why didn't he do so? Many wish he had.
One possible answer is that he realized the problem of entrusting what he had to teach to a book. He saw how the TaNaKh, the Jewish scriptures were a two-edged sword: they contained the truth, but at the same time could easily be enshrined as a sacred object in themselves, thus defeating their purpose.
He did, of course, quote from them. But not always accurately, and often to give his own spin to the accepted reading. "He taught as one having authority, not like the scribes and Pharisees."
The scribes were scholars and interpreters of the Law, the Torah. They pored over scripture by night and day. Jesus probably at one time did this himself. But he moved beyond the Book. He saw how a book could congeal and freeze the truth. Since the truth was a living truth, which should be made active in the lives of men, Jesus saw that a book could go only so far.
Reading a map is one thing. Making the journey is quite another.
Jesus, like Zoroaster and the Buddha, came to shed light on the Path. They said that the path is both interior and exterior. They said that there are a million obstacles along the way. They also taught that evil is a perversion of the good. Pleasure is good, but dwelt in for its own sake, or for too long, becomes evil.
Strangely – or maybe not so strangely – religion itself can be a major obstacle along the way. Dogma, for example, congeals the truth so that it is no longer a living truth but only an abstract proposition to which one is asked to give assent. This is not the Way, but an exit from the Way.
Setting the teacher up as an object of worship is perhaps the most insidious method of foreclosing or short-circuiting the demands and rigors of the Way. One way to disregard someone is to put him on a pedestal. To worship the teacher is a device to avoid having to live his teaching.
"If you meet the Buddha on the road, kill him."
Books like the Rig-Veda or the Judaeo-Christian scriptures can function like a road map. The problem is that they're like those old-fashioned maps, with all kind of sea monsters and fanciful figures depicted. And often with inaccurate geography.
The problem is further complicated by the fact that there is no one map for everyone. So the path of wisdom would seem to be to read the maps – not depending on just one – and then to find one's own way. Each person, in a sense must blaze their own trail. There are many false teachers who would have you believe that their trail is the way for you.
And the Way is never-ending: "They who eat Me hunger still, and they who drink Me still thirst."
But there's another way to look at this: "You would not seek Me if you had not already found Me."
The original disciples of Jesus did not call themselves Christians, but followers of the Way, or the Path. (Greek, hodos).
After Jesus restores sight to Bartimaeus in Mark 10:52, he tells him,
"’Go. Your trust (or belief) has saved you.’ And Bartimaeus followed Jesus on the Path. (en te hodo)" And throughout the Book of Acts we find references to "the Way."
In the non-canonical gospel of Thomas, Jesus says "I am not your teacher. Because you have drunk, you have become intoxicated from the bubbling spring that I have tended."
My thesis is that Jesus came to point out to us the "Way," the path to "salvation."
A perfectly acceptable reading of the Bartimaeus story is that Jesus opened his eyes to his vocation, his calling – indeed the calling of everyone. Bartimaeus was enlightened. He knew what he must do, so he stopped standing still, and started moving in the along the path that Jesus had indicated.
Like Zoroaster or Buddha, Jesus spent the first part of his life developing insights from observation. Then, like them, he shared them with those around him.
It's interesting that Jesus chose not to write a book. One wonders, if he wanted to share his insights, why didn't he do so? Many wish he had.
One possible answer is that he realized the problem of entrusting what he had to teach to a book. He saw how the TaNaKh, the Jewish scriptures were a two-edged sword: they contained the truth, but at the same time could easily be enshrined as a sacred object in themselves, thus defeating their purpose.
He did, of course, quote from them. But not always accurately, and often to give his own spin to the accepted reading. "He taught as one having authority, not like the scribes and Pharisees."
The scribes were scholars and interpreters of the Law, the Torah. They pored over scripture by night and day. Jesus probably at one time did this himself. But he moved beyond the Book. He saw how a book could congeal and freeze the truth. Since the truth was a living truth, which should be made active in the lives of men, Jesus saw that a book could go only so far.
Reading a map is one thing. Making the journey is quite another.
Jesus, like Zoroaster and the Buddha, came to shed light on the Path. They said that the path is both interior and exterior. They said that there are a million obstacles along the way. They also taught that evil is a perversion of the good. Pleasure is good, but dwelt in for its own sake, or for too long, becomes evil.
Strangely – or maybe not so strangely – religion itself can be a major obstacle along the way. Dogma, for example, congeals the truth so that it is no longer a living truth but only an abstract proposition to which one is asked to give assent. This is not the Way, but an exit from the Way.
Setting the teacher up as an object of worship is perhaps the most insidious method of foreclosing or short-circuiting the demands and rigors of the Way. One way to disregard someone is to put him on a pedestal. To worship the teacher is a device to avoid having to live his teaching.
"If you meet the Buddha on the road, kill him."
Books like the Rig-Veda or the Judaeo-Christian scriptures can function like a road map. The problem is that they're like those old-fashioned maps, with all kind of sea monsters and fanciful figures depicted. And often with inaccurate geography.
The problem is further complicated by the fact that there is no one map for everyone. So the path of wisdom would seem to be to read the maps – not depending on just one – and then to find one's own way. Each person, in a sense must blaze their own trail. There are many false teachers who would have you believe that their trail is the way for you.
And the Way is never-ending: "They who eat Me hunger still, and they who drink Me still thirst."
But there's another way to look at this: "You would not seek Me if you had not already found Me."
