Thursday 20 September 2018

A bit about Freyja, Heimdallr, and Eir

Freyja is the most renowned of the Norse goddesses, one of the Vanir, whose name is Old Norse for 'Lady'. She is the sister of Freyr ('Lord'). Their father was Njord, the sea god, possibly by Njord's own sister, Nerthus, who is sometimes known as the Earth Mother. 



Freyja was a goddess of love, fertility, battle, and death. She is often depicted wearing a falcon-feathered cloak, riding or accompanied by a boar named Hildisvini ('Battle-swine') with golden bristles, and travelling in a chariot drawn by two cats - so both pigs/boar and cats are sacred to her. 

It was Freyja's privilege to choose half of the heroes slain in battle for her great hall in the Fólkvangar, the other half being taken by Odhinn to Valhalla. Described in some sources as the mother of the Valkyrie, Freyja is credited with teaching witchcraft to the Aesir, the other tribe of gods. She possessed the necklace Brisingamen, wrought by the dwarves in deep earth, which both symbolises her and embodies her power. It was stolen by Loki and recovered for Freyja by Heimdall.

There is some confusion between Freyja and Frigg/Frigga ('Beloved'), the Aesir wife of Odhinn, not least since, after the Aesir-Vanir War, Freyja, among others, received honourary membership of the Aesir tribe of gods. Freyja's husband is named in late Old Norse literature as Óðr, who, according to the Prose Edda, is often away on long journeys, causing Freyja to search for him and to weep tears of red gold.

Freyja's knowledge and power are said to be almost without equal. She can control and manipulate the desires, health, and prosperity of others, and she practices seidr, and first brought this art to the gods and thus, through them, to humans. Seidr is said by some sources to be a form of magic/shamanism, concerned with discerning destiny and altering its course be re-weaving part of its web. Those who practice seidr, including Freyja herself, are known as the völva - itinerant seeress/sorceress - a role often held within the Germanic/Teutonic tribes by the wife of the chieftain/warband leader (xarjanaz), known as the 'veleda', whose role was divination, influencing outcomes of action, and serving the special cup of power during the ritual feasts.

Freyja has at least four nicknames: Mardöll (Sea-brightener), Hörn (Flaxen), Gefn (The Giver), and Syr (Sow), and Friday is named for her (Freyjasdaeg).



Heimdallr is one of the Aesir, a son of Odin, and the watchman, or guardian, of the gods and of their stronghold, Asgard. He himself has his dwelling at Himinbjörg, the Sky Cliffs, at the top of the Bifrost Bridge (the rainbow) which leads into Asgard.

Heimdallr needs less sleep than a bird, is able to see for 100 leagues, both by day and by night, and has such acute hearing that he can hear grass grow in the meadows, and wool growing on sheep.

Heimdallr is the possessor of the Gjallarhorn (Resounding Horn) which can be heard throughout the realms, and which Heimdallr will sound in order to summon the gods when their enemies, the giants, draw near across Bifrost - the sign of the start of Ragnarök, the end of the world of gods and human beings. When that time arrives, Heimdallr and Loki (who is of the etin-kin, although a blood-brother, and perhaps shadow side, of Odin) will slay each other.

Some verses of the Eddas seem to indicate that Heimdallr was once considered to be the father of humankind, and he has been said to be associated with the Ram - perhaps because of the Gjallarhorn.



Eir, whose name means 'help', 'grace', or 'mercy', is the goddess of healing, patron of shamanic healers, and a companion, or handmaid, of the goddess Frigg, wife of Odin. She dwells at Lufjaberg, the hill of healing, with her helpful spirits, and is revered as a lifegiver, with power over life and death.

One of the ways in which Eir was able to heal was through a ritual involving a white flower, known, for that reason, as the Eirflower. When praying to Eir for healing it is common to light a red or a green candle.

Some sources also regard Eir as a forge goddess, although more on the artistic, creative side than actually making weapons and so on. This may be related to her role as the defender and aid of warriors.

It is generally agreed, however, that Eir was one of the Valkyrie, the shield maidens. According to Snorri Snurlsson (in the Gylgafinning) and the older Poetic Edda Fjölsvinnsmál, Eir was one of the 12 or 13 highest ranking goddesses, and was also an Asynjur - the females who lived together with the Aesir (males) - and possesses the ability to predict the future as well as being one of the best physicians among the gods and goddesses.




Two questions about Norse culture and Christianity

Question: In your opinion, why did the Christians conquer the Norse, take over their culture and infuse a new system of belief? And why did the people of Europe accept Christianity as opposed to their own heritage.

The Norse Heithni culture was one of community and kin, the maintenance and health of which was the basis for their system of ethics. The people relied on one another and, especially, on their chieftain and other leaders.

This would have presented a challenge to Christianity, which, although in some ways community-based, is about the individual's dependence on God and the priests of God who (inappropriately in my view) acted as intermediaries. Since the Christians believed their Way was the Only Way (which is just plain Wrong) they had to break down the old ways. One might hope that their motive was not political, but spiritual: that they truly believed in the necessity of accepting 'Christ' as 'The Saviour'.

The people of the North may have been convinced by their arguments, or they may have seen how the two belief systems could dove-tail, or they may have been ready for new expressions, especially if there was some/any disillusion with the old ways/leaders. And there is likely to have been very strong pressure to convert, including the threat of death.


Question: Is it possible to be a Christian AND practice the older religion of the Teutons, Celts or other pre-Christian “pagan” peoples?

This is an interesting question, with no one answer, and no 'right' answer. I don't think it would be possible for some Christians to also practice the older religion - those literalist, fundamentalist Christians who believe there is only One Way, theirs. I am glad that I have never held that view - although there have been moments when I've envied their certainties!

Not wishing to speak for anyone else, I would say this: I was born into a church-going family, with a strong Christian heritage on both paternal and maternal sides. I have honoured that heritage, and it has been the matrix through which I have developed my spiritual self. I am an ordained and experienced Christian minister of Word and Sacrament (and Pastoral Care, although that is sadly not part of the 'title').

However, I believe that the purpose of religion - any and all religion - is to help us to lead the fullest life possible as a human being - which includes our spiritual selves as well as what we define as emotional, mental, and physical - although of course all are inter-mingled, and one could add other aspects too, such as social, for example.
Christianity is my starting point, it is my roots as I know them, but not in any exclusive way. My 'definition' of my own 'Christianity' is much at variance with a lot of doctrine and dogma: I try to follow the Way of Jesus, especially in his command to love and to serve, and to know that Godde is here and now. There is nothing in any of that which would exclude the possibility of practising any of the older religions, and there is so much in them that calls to me. However, I'm not sure that the pick-and-mix approach is a good one - it is a bit too self-serving.

What I have continued to do since my teenage years is to find the commonalities between different belief-systems, and to honour other people's faith as much as I hope they respect mine.

Godde has many faces, and there are many paths that lead us to Godde. There is only one Godde, and Godde is One.

A Celtic Poem

The Mystery
by
Amergin Glúingel

I am the wind which breathes upon the sea, I am the wave of the ocean,
I am the murmur of the billows, I am the ox of the seven combats,
I am the eagle upon the rocks, I am the beam of the sun,
I am the fairest of plants, I am the wild boar in valour,
I am a salmon in the water, I am a lake in the plain,
I am a word of knowledge, I am the head of the spear in battle,
I am the god who puts fire in the head.
Who spreads light into the gathering on the mountain?
Who announces the ages of the moon?
Who teaches the place where the sun rests?
(If not I) 

http://www.ndoylefineart.com/celticpoems.html

Amergin Glúingel is a character in the Irish Mythological Cycle. He is said to have been one of the 'seven sons of Míl Espáine' who overthrew the Tuatha dé Danann, and were given permission to settle in Ireland by the wives of the Tuatha dé Danann (Eriu, Fódla and Banba). The Song of Amergin (also known as 'The Mystery') was used against the magical storm that the Tuatha dé Danann had created in order to bring the Milesian ship safely to land. Amergin was subsequently appointed Chief Ollam by his two brothers, Eber and Eremon, whom he made, respectively, Kings of the south and of the north of the island.

I have chosen to share this poem/song here on my blog both because of its vivid imagery and because of the story of its use in parting the storm: it is a great reminder of the fact that words do have power. It is also a moving description of Godde in our midst - in the elements of earth, air, fire, and water, in people and animals and fish and birds, in the sun, moon, and stars, in our strengths and in our vulnerability, in our independence and in our need of each other and of Godde. Also, the Song reminds me of the passage towards the end of the Book of Job, where Godde asks 'Where were you when I laid the earth's foundations?'

I have tried to find the words of the Breton poem/song Ar-Rannou, also known as Les Series, one of the Barzhah Breizh (Ballads of Brittany - barzh = bard) collected by Théodore Hersart de la Villemarqué, which recounts a dialogue between a Druid and his pupil, including details about Korrigans, but so far without success, other than the first verse:

Druid: My pretty, my white child of the Druid, pretty one, what do you want? Of what shall I sing?
Child: Sing to me the cycle of the number one, until I have learned it for today.
Druid: There is no cycle for the number one, only the unique need, Ankou the bringer of death, the father of pain, nothing before, nothing more.

You can hear it here:


Pythagoras and the Four Elements

Question: Pythagoras is said to have studied in Babylon, and that this was perhaps the source of the doctrine of Four Elements. Do you think this is likely?

To begin with a bit of background about Babylonian beliefs:

The Enûma Eliš (also spelled as Enuma Elish, found in 1849 at Ninevah, now Mosul, in Iraq) is the Babylonian creation myth, which was written down around the 7th century BCE on seven clay tablets, each holding between 115 and 170 lines of Sumero-Akkadian cuneiform ('wedge-shaped') script - one of the earliest known forms of writing. Some of the elements of the beliefs it describes - which includes the creation of the world and of man, and a battle between the gods to do with the supremacy of Marduk/Marutuk ("bull calf of the sun god Utu") - are attested by illustrations dating to the Kassite era (18th to 16th centuries BCE - wow.) 




As well as the Creation myth and the battle of the gods, the Enûma Eliš also documents the belief in four gods who may be understood as the personifications of the cosmic elements of Sea, Earth, Sky, and Wind. Babylonian mythology itself is said to have been influenced by Sumerian religion, which ascribed responsibility for all matters to do with the natural and social order to the divinities.

Sumer was one of the earliest known civilisations, along with those of Ancient Egypt and of the Indus Valley, located in southern Mesopotamia - modern day Iraq - along the valleys of the Tigris and the Euphrates rivers. When the Amorite Babylonians gained dominance over the area by the mid 17th century BCE, the Sumerian and Akkadian languages were retained for religious purposes and for some literature (such as the Babylonian version of the Epic of Gilgamesh) while the pantheon was altered, notably by the introduction of Marduk and the evolution of the goddess Ishtar as counterpart to the Sumerian goddess Inanna.



So, turning to Pythagoras: he was born around 570 BCE on the Ionian (Greek) island of Samos, which is said to have been a 'thriving cultural hub' known for its feats of engineering and its riotous festival culture. It was a major centre of trade with the Near East - and traders of course brought with them their cultural and religious ideas, concepts, and beliefs. At the same time, natural philosophy, begun by Aristotle (384-322 BCE) was flourishing in the Ionian islands, that is, the philosophical study of nature and the physical universe, regarded as a precursor of natural and modern science. Pythagoras was also a contemporary of Anaximander and Anaximenes (both material monist philosophers) and the historian/geographer Hecataeus, who all lived in Miletus, on the mainland just across from Samos.



As well as these Milesian influences, Pythagoras is said both to have studied at Thebes in Egypt, and to have been a student of Magi from Persia, possibly even of Zarathustra himself. And although the most likely dates of Zarathustra's lifetime don't support this nice idea, it does indicate a link between Pythagoras and Zoroastrianism. Greek writers of the classical period also assert that Pythagoras visited Crete, learnt astronomy from the Chaldeans, arithmetic from the Phoenicians, and studied under 'the Jews', the Hindu sages in India, and the Celts of Iberia. Busy man!'



All of which perhaps goes at least some way toward indicating that the influences on Pythagoras were many and varied, and almost certainly would have included the Babylonian concept of the four elements.

Pythagoras himself was a particular influence on the pre-Socratic Sicilian philosopher Empedocles, to whom is ascribed the origination of the cosmogenic theory of the four classical elements - earth, air, fire, and water - from which he believed all the structures in the world were made, being represented as energies, gases, liquids, and solids. Empedocles called the four elements 'roots' (it was Plato who coined the term 'elements') and regarded them as indestructible and unchangeable. His concept that nothing new comes or can come into being, and that the only change that can occur is a change in the juxtaposition of element with elements, became the standard dogma for the next 2000 years.

Empedocles also identified the 'roots' with the deities Zeus (the sky/thunder king of the gods),


Hera (sister-wife of Zeus and queen of the gods), 


Nestis (aka Persephone, wife of Hades and queen of the underworld), 


and Aidoneus (a mythical king, represented as the husband of Persephone/Nestis, and thus the same as Hades): 



"Now hear the fourfold roots of everything: enlivening Hera, Hades, shining Zeus. And Nestis, moistening mortal springs with tears"... from which it would seem that Nestis is Water, Zeus would be Fire, Hera could be Air, and Hades would be Earth.

Here in Brittany, the triskele emblem is said to represent Earth, Sea, and Sky, which certainly surround us. We have to make the Fire ourselves! :-)


Ahura Mazda

Question: Who is Ahura Mazda?

Also known as Avestan, meaning 'Wise Lord', Ahura Mazdā is the creator of the universe and the supreme god of the ancient Medes and Persians, and especially of Zoroastrianism, the religion of the prophet Zarathustra (6th century BCE). He was worshipped by Darius I, who ruled Persia from 522-486 BCE, and by his successors as being the greatest of all gods and the protector of the just king/ruler. 




It was believed that Ahura Mazdā is the supreme being in Garothman (heaven), the uncreated spirit, beyond and apart from and without whom, there is no-thing in existence. He is changeless, moving all, while not being moved by anyone and having no equal. He favours the just, upholding truth and proper behaviour.

Worth noting is that the proto-Iranian word Mazdāh, from which the Avestan word Mazda/Mazdā derives, is a feminine noun, meaning (as far as I can discover) Life.

Zoroastrianism was the faith of the Parthian Empire (247-224 BCE) and many temples which had previously been destroyed around 330 BCE by the campaigns of Alexander the Great were rebuilt. The Parthians, however, also tolerated the presence of Hindus, Buddhists, Jews, and Christians, along with elements of Mithraism. During the Sassanid period (224BCE -651 CE) Zoroastrianism and the worship of Ahura Mazdā as the supreme being was succeeded by Zurvanism, Ahura Mazdā being re-named Ohrmazd-mowbad, and down-graded to a son of Zurvan alongside Ahriman/Angra Mainya.



Some questions about magic and religion

Question: What does the term "Magic" mean to you?

It is sometimes suggested that magic is a way in which people can gain the feeling that they can be personally involved with both natural, super-natural, and super-human energies and events, in order to be active participants in their own 'fate'. 

That seems a bit sad and limited to me, and I am a strong believer in free will, not in 'fate' per se. 

I think what we term 'magic' is the attempt to engage with that which is unseen, the intangible, and that this has more to do with vision and wisdom, rather than manipulation and fakery.


Question: Did the Christian Church ever "perform magic"?

The Christian Church before the Enlightenment tolerated 'natural' magic, that is, that which involved energies inherent in nature or the products of nature. 

Certain beliefs and practices within the churches very much blur the purported boundaries between magic and religion, for example, the belief in transubstantiation, the creation of 'holy oil' and 'holy water', the use of the sign of the cross, the veneration of relics of the saints, speaking in tongues, snake handling, faith healing, and prayers for healing and divine vengeance. 


Question: Is Magik Different from Religion?

I have always thought that there are some elements of religion which are 'magical', and that that is right and proper: religion is about intangible stuff, that which is beyond and/or within, not that which is sensory/tangible, and magic deals exactly with that realm, although it may involve artefacts which are tangible and sensory, as does religious practice.

In some current reading, however, I have been disappointed with certain reductionist statements, for example, that religions "serve to give people a sense that the energies we feel and the events we experience are not chaotic or unfathomable but have a cause, if not a reason'".

Similarly, a summary statement on magic (that it "gives humans a feeling that they can be personally involved with these energies and events, not merely as passive recipients, but actively, with the ability to influence them in ways to benefit humanity, or at least individual humans") is merely reductionist.

However, I am inclined to agree that a 'magician' may be "a religious functionary who operates as a power and communications expert, crisis manager, miracle healer, and all-purpose therapist and agent of worried, troubled, and troublesome souls" although I think that religious "functionaries" themselves have more than that to offer: not just "yet another way to be active participants in their own fate" (yes, reductionism strikes again!) but, far more positively, we, I hope, indicate and demonstrate how humans can interact with the Divine for the good of the whole creation, in which the Divine in-dwells.

So I would suggest that, while magic and religion can and do have blurred and over-lapping edges, religion - or perhaps more accurately, faith - is greater than magic.


Thursday 6 September 2018

Some more book reviews

Hidden Wisdom, by Richard Smoley and Jay Kinney - Revised Edition, 2006




The aim of the authors in this book is stated as being to address the question of how the esoteric tradition, which is here regarded as holding 'consciousness' to be a 'primary force in the universe', came to be 'despised and rejected' in the West, and to offer guidance to the various forms which that esotericism has taken as, over the last two decades, it has 'inched closer to the mainstream'.

By way of introduction, Smoley and Kinney compare and contrast the esoteric and the exoteric, and emphasise that 'the notion of Western esoteric traditions' is a comparatively new one, since the Western world view has become somewhat more diverse than the former division into the two spheres of 'Christendom' and 'heathendom', to the extent that by the 20th century, 'seekers in America and Europe were seized with passion for the lore of mystic Asia'. Having defined certain key differences between Western and Eastern esotericism, such as the role of the teacher and the place of the ego, and emphasising the hard work, discernment, and decency demanded by the esoteric path, the main part of the book is divided into twelve chapters, which cover the following topics: Jung, Gnosticism, esoteric Christianity, the Kabbalah, magic, paganism/witchcraft, shamanism, alchemy and hermeticism, the teachings of Gurjieff, Sufism, secret societies and brotherhoods, and the New Age.

Each of the twelve chapters is divided into short sections and followed with a comprehensive list, with comments, of suggested further reading. This enables the reader to pick and choose depending on their particular interest, without having necessarily to plough through the whole volume, which would be a big ask at one go, as it is pretty dense, although the writing style is clear, mostly factual, apparently neutral, and authoritative - as indeed it should be, from two former editors of the journal 'Gnosis'. By way of an 'Afterword' the authors advise the necessity of groundedness, 'faithful scepticism' (a lovely phrase for a very sensible concept!), and an ability to keep things in proportion while on this road to the discovery of inner equilibrium. For anyone looking for an introductory work on Western esotericism, and/or a revitalised, non-traditional, sense of spirituality and the practices that enable that, this fits the bill, and demands no prior knowledge. And it would make a fascinating TV series!


A Different Christianity, by Robin Amis




British-born Robin Amis (1932-2014) was the founder and first director of Praxis Research Institute, a not-for-profit research and educational organisation set up in 1992 in Massachusetts. The stated mission of Praxis is to study and pass on the inner, spiritual, teachings of the Christian tradition which date back to the Gospels and the writings of the early Church Father, and which, it claims, are still in practice in some monastic communities, such as that of Mount Athos, Greece.

Amis, latterly a frequent visitor to Mount Athos, in particular to the Osioy Gregoriou monastery, had, in the early 1960s, joined the Study Society in London, which was led by Francis Roles, a former student of P.D. Ouspensky, the Russian esotericist known for his expositions of the early work of G. Gurdjieff, the Armenian-Greek teacher of esoteric doctrine. Amis, having studied various spiritual traditions, subsequently converted to the Eastern Orthodox Church, and was recognised by the Mount Athos community as a 'synergatis' - that is, a fellow worker and equal of the monks - not least for introducing Hesychasm, a mystical tradition of contemplative prayer, to the West.

With all this in mind, I was looking forward to my first reading of his seminal work 'A Different Christianity', said to have been influential in making available to a wide non-Orthodox, Western readership the practices and knowledge of Eastern Orthodoxy and the Athonite tradition. I got quite happily as far as the last sentence of the opening acknowledgments - the page before page one - and was stopped in my tracks by a glaring misspelling of the word 'encouragement', published as 'encoruagement'. Of course, we all make typos, me included, but surely proof-reading standards should be better than this, not least in a stand out paragraph, in which Amis is paying tribute to his wife.

More in a practical vein: Positive comments: each chapter is divided into sections, and are not too long, there are good notes for each chapter, and the whole book is well indexed. Negative points: pages x & xi are printed twice, and the font size of this book is relatively small, which does not make for easy reading, and creates a sense of density, which may or may not be justified, there are no exercises or pauses for thought, despite Amis' emphasis on the need to ponder: it is very much a solid text book. Amis also spends quite a long time in his Introduction setting out his stall, as regards what the aim of the book is for: he phrases and re-phrases his purpose several times.

The book proper begins with a summary of Amis' sources, before moving on, at last!, to an examination of the message of Christianity - but sadly even this is confused by Amis' habit of falling into memoir-mode about his own experiences. This works in some books, especially those of a practical nature: it does not, for me, work here: I am waiting for an exposition of Eastern Orthodox/Athonite/esoteric theology, not what comes across to me as a mish-mash of the author's thoughts, various writings, and mentions of Mount Athos. But I do admit my own prejudice against this 'Holy Mountain' - a sad place where women, and female animals, are banned, in order that the monks may focus on their path toward spiritual enlightenment. Sorry, but how is 'spiritual enlightenment' possible without the inclusion of the feminine? Do they not know that women and men are created in the image of the Divine? Or do they not care? - a different Christianity from mine certainly!

Without prolonging this report, suffice it to say that this book and I do not at the moment get along - and I accept fully that this is no doubt as much to do with me as with the book itself. What is advertised as a bridge to the esoteric teachings of Christianity and the 'difficult doctrines' of the early Church Fathers, is to me a confusion of ideas, thoughts, teachings, lacking substantiation, and poorly edited. I am disappointed that the wealth of material and of experience which Amis very clearly possessed, was allowed to be published in such an inaccessible fashion. My hope is that my money spent on this book will not be completely wasted, and that at some future time, I may find it of some use as a reference work.



Anthony Duncan: The Lord of the Dance


The Lord of the Dance is the first of a series of five books by Anthony Duncan, which, according to the author's preface, 'wrote themselves'. It has me at the title: The Lord of the Dance - a great if over-used song by the brilliant Sydney Carter, Shiva Nataraja, Michael Flatley's Irish dancing, and, of course, the Great Dance of the cosmos. So, off to a good start before I've even opened the book!

Sub-titled 'an essay in mysticism', the back cover claims this to be 'a book with a difference... both traditional and revolutionary'. There are six chapters, each divided into sections. There are no notes, references, or suggestions for further reading.
Chapter One, The Great Dance, begins with the assertions that 'everything that exists treads the same measure, each according to its own rhythm' and that 'time is an illusion'. Not sure if the latter doesn't negate the former? And I have problems with the concept which Duncan moves on to - that of 'the fall' and what he regards as the consequent division of 'Man' into man and woman - which he writes as if it is a given, rather than a questionable concept.

That said, Duncan's writing style is clear, lucid, engaging, and has an almost poetic eloquence. But, and it's a big but, he is totally dogmatic. 'Fallen Man' is, according to Duncan, 'redeemed in Christ' and can now once again dance with God 'himself'. While I both delight in and commend the image of the Dance, I nonetheless condemn the black/white totalitarianism of the theology. The concept of a 'fall' continues in Duncan's exposition of the 'fallen angel and his creatures'. With the Dance of Bread and Wine Duncan introduces the curious concept that the earth itself is thus identified with 'man' through whom it is redeemed. Sorry, but Duncan has lost me here.

The 'duty' of contemplation, images of the fiery spear and the grail, archetypes, symbols, the Silence of Heaven, and the understanding of the Eucharist as Nuptial and Sacrificial, bring us finally to the I AM, but not, for Duncan, the great I AM who simply is, but an I AM defined as this, that, and the other (child, lord, king, host, priest, and so on).

This is not an essay in mysticism: it is a mystical essay - rather a different creature. It makes interesting, if not particularly useful, reading, if one is interested in other people's experiences and interpretations of Divine revelation. Sadly, Duncan is not, as yet, my partner in the dance.


Richard Temple: Icons, and the mystical origins of Christianity




Richard Temple, considered one of the world's greatest experts in the field of Russian, Greek, and Byzantine icons, founded the Temple Gallery in 1959 as a centre for the study, restoration, and exhibition of historic icons and other sacred art. This book is said to represent the culmination of Temple's lifelong interest in Christian mysticism, neo-Platonism, the emergence of Christianity from Hellenistic culture, and Christian hesychasm - the seeking of divine quietness through the contemplation of God in uninterrupted prayer.

Temple's stated aim in this book is to investigate the mystical origins of icons and their potential relevance in contemporary culture. It is divided into two parts, the first, 'The Mystical Background of Christianity' of seven chapters, the second, 'Interpretation of Icons' of twelve, followed by Notes and a thorough index.

Temple is clear from the outset that his belief is that the deepest meaning of 'the Christian drama' lies not in an historical interpretation, such as has been attempted by traditional doctrinal theology, but in its spiritual realities, which are hidden by the literal events. He regards these two interpretations, the historical and the spiritual, as complementary, but 'on different levels'. Temple also holds that the mysticism of Christianity relates to the possibilities of spiritual awakening and 'recovery from spiritual death'.

Having briefly examined examples of symbolism in art and myth, Temple then addresses the relevance of Hellenistic philosophy to his main thesis, suggesting that Christianity also inherited the Hellenistic style and use of iconography - representing psycho-spiritual ideas, a divine unifying principle and numeric principle, and the idea of a cosmic hierarchy - as well as being influenced by other cultures, such as that of Egypt. Gnostic belief and practice are discussed, along with the contribution of Dionysius the Areopagite, before Temple moves into the second part of his book: the interpretation of icons.

This second, longer section is much more engaging, with sufficient illustrations to ground Temple's thesis and allow the reader to contemplate the images and reach her/his own agreement, or not, with the author. There is much of interest, especially regarding the 'spiritual architecture' of some of the icons discussed.
The author is obviously deeply engrossed in, and highly knowledgeable about, his subject, and for anyone interested in iconography and/or the multi-layering of meaning within the Christian faith - too often forgotten by scholars and evangelists alike - this is an interesting work.

It is quite dense in its arguments and the general thesis of the book would have been better served with a much briefer introduction (Part One) and more specific examination of actual icons, preferably with larger colour illustrations: some of those included, in black and white, are difficult to make out. Such a re-balancing could make for a greater sense of accessibility of the subject matter. And while Temple certainly does examine the 'mystic origins' of iconography, I am not convinced that he demonstrates their potential contemporary relevance sufficiently well to evoke further study. Interesting, thoughtful, and literate, but not inspiring.



Bruno Barnhart: Second Simplicity




Fr. Bruno Barnhart (1931-2015) was a member of the New Camaldoli Hermitage, Big Sur, California. The Camaldolese are the inheritors of the tradition of the monk-hermits of Camaldoli, Italy, whose order, an independent offshoot of the Benedictines, was founded in the 11th century C.E. Barnhart, a former Navy biochemist, is said to have had a deep conversion experience in 1959 while recovering from a laboratory accident, in which he lost the sight of one eye. He took monastic vows in 1960, was ordained in 1966, and served as prior to the community from 1969 to 1987. From 1994 onwards he was editor of 'The Golden String' (the official publication of the Bede Griffiths Trust, a charitable foundation which supports ashrams in South India) and he also served as retreat/spiritual director and prior at Epiphany Monastery, New Hampshire - the Camaldolese experimental community. One of the people to whom he was spiritual director and mentor is The Rev'd. Cynthia Bourgeault, who regarded him as the one spiritual writer who 'most perfectly integrated the distinctly different Western and Eastern understandings of non-duality' while remaining grounded in Christianity's 'incarnational epicentre'. Another of his colleagues said he reminded him of a line from Tolkien: 'He was as noble and fair as an elf-lord, as strong as a warrior, as wise as a wizard, as venerable as a king of dwarves, and as kind as summer'.

In his book Second Simplicity, Barnhart challenges Christianity to 'emerge' from its confinement within the experience and consciousness of the Word/order/rationality/the 'masculine' and to re-discover God, the Spirit, and the Cosmos, thus enabling a fuller experience both of the Christian faith and of 'wisdom that brings all created reality into unity with God'. He suggests that, despite the apparent expansion of human life in the twentieth century, in fact there has been a contraction and a lack of depth, which has caused many to turn to Eastern philosophies in order to find the wisdom that Western Christianity has lost. Barnhart creates his own circular mandala to represent the four dimensions of the unitive vision of God, the Word, the Spirit, and the Cosmos, his perspective being determined by the two principles of unity and quaternity. The book is thus itself divided into four parts, The Silence, The Word, The Music, and The Dance.

Barnhart's exposition of his theme is written with the accuracy of a scientist, the breadth of reference which characterises an open-minded seeker, the authority of one confident in his thesis, and a clarity derived from a life-time of the give and take of effective communication. His style is so engaging that the fact that one is dealing at an unusual depth with unusual topics is barely noticed. There are useful notes for each chapter, an extensive bibliography, an explanation of abbreviations used, an index of authors, and an index of subjects, as well as three appendices: one a very informative glossary of terms, the second on the Quaternity Mandala, and the third on the Christian Mandala (John, Peter, James and Paul). And there are drawings, by Lynne Clarkin.

'Second Simplicity' is, quite simply, a good book. I recommend it.