Gnostic Philip

Gnostic Philip (a study of early reason)

Contents: Forward Opening Assumptions Definitions Fill In The Blanks Differences Comparisons Connections The Union of Opposites Directions Separatism Name-isms Final Considerations Forward This study of the Gospel of Philip follows a formula, and I think it will be helpful to the reader to know the formula. The approach has been topical, insomuch that as far as my capability permits, the reader will find the work divided and ordered topically.

The work contains multiple writings which are all placed forward. There is no glossary; there are no foot notes. I have done this in a deliberate attempt to place all cards on the table. The reader will note my writing next to Philip's, and those two in concert with external source material.

My writing will always be in Times New Roman font, size 14. Philip's writing will be in Times New Roman italic font, size 14. Where I attempt to fill in the blanks, those words found within brackets will be in Times New Roman font, size 14 red.

Quotes from the Bible will differ in that they will be found to be in Arial font, size 12.

Some web links are included, they are posited whole, underlined and blue. While they may not be click-able, they are at least cut-and-paste-able.

I have leaned heavily on Wikipedia for source material. It is applied as an extension of my own writing and so will be found in Times New Roman font, size 14.

As much as possible, Bible quotes will be separate from my own writing, but occasionally will be employed as an extension of a sentence within my own writing. For the most part, I have divided my writing into dedicated clusters of writing, separate from one another, not so much for ease of reading as it is for an aide in helping concepts 'sink in'.

My style of writing follows the way I think rather than old standards. The reader will find that my work reads quite differently from the works of so called scholars. I do that deliberately. I do not wish to be compared with scholars, name droppers, and other bombasts. These studies are works of exploration at a more genuine level, and I wish to acknowledge the guidance of the Holy Spirit in our discovery and incorporation of all truth.

Opening We are baking a cake, and a new ingredient is called for. We must hold two things in mind: first is how much we may competently add, and second is how much we have so far included. Former ingredients include a thorough study of the canon, a study of the gospel of Thomas, a study of angels, and a study of the gospel of Magdalene.

What can we add to this? Our new ingredient is Philip. This gnostic work is an example of early reasoning. It shows us how the top thinkers of that day and age used reasoning to explain issues that had no easy answers close at hand.

When I use the word 'reason', of course, I am speaking of a spiritual quality. My catch phrase up to now has been, 'spiritual is mental is spiritual'. My alternate catch phrase has been, 'mental is spiritual is mental'. By these I mean that mentality, or the property of communicative thought, is a process, in all respects, equal to spirituality.

Modern critics assert that the works of gnosticism are too far removed from the life and times of Christ and his apostles to be of any relevance. Of course, they say the same things about the four gospels of the canon. By using the word 'reason', I indicate the occasions where the mind of God is communicated to man. To me, communication of this mind negates all distancing, by intervening years, from the events being reasoned.

In my studies, time is no obstacle. The mind of God and the spirit-centered power to communicate that mind, are equally effective in any age. Reason is a mental quality, and mentality is spirituality. The reasoning displayed in the book of Philip illuminates the communicated mind of God within man. Philip's work is as much a work of reason and philosophy as it is an apologetic. It holds as much for the man of reason as it does for the man of faith.

In the study of this bright work, I have divided the book under approximately ten topics: they are topics such as the assumptions that Philip makes, the definitions he provides, those areas where it becomes necessary to fill in the blank areas of missing

text, observed differences, comparisons, connections, how Philip reconciles opposites, directions, separatisms, name-isms, and final considerations. Let us proceed without delay.

Assumptions To make an assumption is like stepping out into the dark. At first, one's vision is not yet wholly acclimated to the darkness. One may trip over the odd obstacle, but in time the eyes adjust, and one is able to recognize what is, and where. One is able to navigate.

Recognition, then, is comparable to illumination.

We've all been there. Even the most learned begin with assumptions. We must recognize assumptions as a beginning to reason, else we trip over it as one trips in the dark. We must admit, sometimes assumptions seem silly to us – but, let us not be hasty to judge another. We should, rather, see each traveler on the plane of reason as being on the road and having their lamp in hand.

Their first steps may be but rudimentary stumbling, but they have the tools they require.

They have the road to move forward upon, and they have the lamp to trim as they will.

We must not hold people guilty of stumbling; we have stumbled too. With patience, we are able to pick out the objects from the darkness of another mind, and thus we, ourselves, may trim our lamp, and cease to stumble.

So, let us navigate some early reasoning. Philip, like any other individual, is a prisoner of his society. He is bound in chains of darkness such as his place in history, his mooring within society, and what his society has given him to work with. Make no mistake: these are heavy and cumbersome chains, but at least Philip has a free hand. His lamp is in his hand.

Philip thinks about the creation of the first man, and that man's relation to Christ. Of course, like the rest of us, Philip was not present during the life of Adam. Anyone who makes a statement about Adam, makes an assumption. That is not to say that, with enough rethinking of the topic, one may not come eventually to facts and truths. While Adam as a man, either created or evolved, remains up in the air, the fact is Adam was a man.

At some point in the history of mankind, Adam came into being. He existed; we hold that to be true. Philip sees the issue of a beginning, and he wants to explore that in relation to the issue of beginning anew. He compares the birth of mankind to the re-birth of mankind. See here how Philip compares the two: Adam came into being from two virgins, from the Spirit and from the virgin earth. Christ therefore, was born from a virgin to rectify the Fall which occurred in the beginning.

Philip's tools are limited. They are the tools that his society handed him. Among those tools are the proper birth of a proper man through a proper union which, according to that day and age and in that society, could only be accomplished in a Bridal Chamber.

That is to say, a personal, intimate, and hidden union between a free man and a virgin produced a legitimate heir – a perfect man.

In order to compare the perfect man, Christ was believed to be, with Adam, the first man also had to be perfect. In the reasoning above, Philip takes the popular notion of man's fall from grace, and attempts to explain the mechanism through which the advent of Christ would make it right. Until Adam, the Spirit and the earth had not brought forth.

They both were virgin. That was the Bridal Chamber whose secret union produced a proper man.

For Christ to be Christ, the union that produced him must also be pure. The Spirit was held to be pure, but fallen man was not. Both sides of the equation being equal, a mother for a Christ needed also to be pure. She had to be a virgin.

Understandably, modern thought may reject such reasoning, but at the very least, it shows us how very near thoughts of a pure virgin were to the event of Christ's birth.

They were so closely placed, in fact, as to actually occur before the birth. Prophecies of a virgin birth limited the qualification for Christ-hood to an exacting standard.

Such were the tools with which Philip made his first steps. If we should consider that he stumbled in the dark, at least we may be comforted to know that he got back on his feet and moved forward. Philip was just getting started. Christ, according to Philip, had to be a qualified Christ – but still, that was only the beginning of mankind's re-birth.

The assumptions of Philip are first thoughts about beginnings. Adam is a beginning.

Christ is a beginning. The union of the Bridal Chamber is a beginning. Perhaps the assumption of Philip, in regard to virgin births, might be more properly filed under the topic of 'union'. It is that same topic that we find in his second assumption.

The original union of Adam and Eve, according to the assumption of Philip, plainly differs from the assumption of Moses. We get from the assumption of Moses that Adam and Eve were something on the order of Siamese twins. They were a fused physical identity. The assumption of Philip speaks of something else.

When Eve was still with Adam, death did not exist. When she was separated from him, death came into being. If he enters again and attains his former self, death will be no more.

In the original union of Adam and Eve, death did not exist. Death came, according to Philip, when they separated. We must ask, then, what was the nature of their union, and what was the nature of their separation? We can easily be misled by such a statement as: she was separated from him. Philip did not elaborate on this point, but that is not to say that we cannot reason for him.

If the action of separation belonged to Eve then the action of reunion belonged to her as well. Yet, clearly, Philip has placed the burden of reunion on Adam. What is it that Adam must enter again in order to obtain the former deathless union, and how is that achieved, exactly?

Originally, Adam and Eve were one; then, Eve took off. Was she dating the serpent? The Bible places blame for death upon eating the forbidden fruit; disobedience is implied. Is Philip comparing the act described in the Bible to separation from each other? Eve shared the fruit with Adam, but, indeed, she went alone to the serpent.

What exactly is it that Adam is responsible to re-enter? If the original union was purely physical, as in the assumption of Moses, and Adam had to re-enter, that would have placed Adam inside of Eve. What, exactly, might Adam re-enter? Philip being of the gnostic persuasion, he likely meant that Adam must re-enter the Bridal Chamber.

But, wait, you say! Adam is dead. He's history. He'll not be entering anything. Physically true enough, but what if Philip spoke of Christ, as the second Adam? Some of us are familiar with that line of reasoning. Hold your horses, you say? Christ has died, risen, and entered Heaven – so, what is their left for him to enter?

What about this – Adam as a representation of mankind? That would place Eve as the representation of Spirit. Mankind enters again into union with the Spirit, which men like Philip might interpret as the Gnosis. It is the symbol of the Bridal Chamber all over again.

Let us also consider a physical union, but with a twist. It could be the original deathless union had a real corporeal connection between the male and female. I am thinking, here, of physical aging. We know now that 'telomeres', the protective DNA end caps, govern this aspect of our lives. “The telomere regions deter the degradation of genes near the ends of chromosomes by allowing for the shortening of chromosome ends, which necessarily occurs during chromosome replication.” I found that bit of information in Wikipedia.

So I'm thinking – what if the male telomere and the female telomere are each only half of the whole? What if the halves were rejoined? Would that completely negate chromosomal degradation? What if the original deathless union was a union of 'x' and 'y' chromosomes? Imagine, if you will, the immortal 'z' chromosome.

So, according to Philip, the original separation of male and female was the cause of death. Aging and death have since plagued mankind. According to Philip, the purpose of the second Adam is to 'repair' the separation of the first Adam. Repairman Adam had the task of re-entering the Bridal Chamber.

Let us remember that the communication of the mind of God is our main issue. The message, sent to the old, would have different tools at its disposal. The forms taken would seem, to the new, both alien and strange. Yet, it is the same message that is communicated to both old and new.

If the woman had not separated from the man, she should not die with the man. His separation became the beginning of death. Because of this, Christ came to repair the separation, which was from the beginning, and again unite the two, and to give life to those who died as a result of the separation, and unite them.

According to the tools at Philip's disposal, much importance is placed on a proper and lasting union. To Philip's age belonged the significance of the Bridal Chamber, less so to our own age. Still, those of us who seek truth must understand how Philip employs reason, and indeed, reason with him.

Adam and Eve had the canopy of trees, but they had no Bridal Chamber. Were they considered, in the bygone era of Philip and his peers, unmarried? Were Adam and Eve just shacking up? Were Cain and Abel born out of wedlock?

According to my reasoning, if Adam and Eve were joined enough for separation to be possible, they were married. That reasoning is based in our day and age, but of the day and age of Philip, reasoning placed a higher and more secretive significance on the Bridal Chamber.

But the woman is united to her husband in the bridal chamber. Indeed, those who have united in the bridal chamber will no longer be separated. Thus Eve separated from Adam because it was not in the bridal chamber that she united with him.

Adam and Eve were a product of the union of Spirit and virgin earth, but Adam and Eve were meant to unite in similar fashion – as new man and virgin. The fall came before the union. Because Eve went to the serpent before her union with Adam, her union with him was not the union of the Bridal Chamber, but adultery.

In older reasoning, fruit is the product of a union. There was a union between Eve and the serpent that bore fruit in Eve. Then in union with Adam, the introduction of abomination, in the cultural parlance of that age, bore the fruit of separation and curse.

Being under a curse, their first son was the fruit of the curse, and their second son was the true heir. In the models of Abel and Christ, the true heir died in relation to separation and curse. In both cases, according to reasoning of that age, the sanctity of the Bridal Chamber was paramount. Thus, we may see how they reasoned the need for a reconciliation.

Definitions Philip employs definitions in his reasoning. Like most of us engaged in defining an issue, the lines between pure definition and pure explanation are often overlapped. A thought occurs to Philip; he wishes to bring it into clarity. It may be the same thought communicated to you or I, and we might illuminate it differently, but Philip had only

tools of his time with which to work. We want to know what; we want to know why; we want to know how. Philip wanted the same things.

Spiritual communication takes many forms, and uses many mediums. Where you or I might paint our canvas with a synthetic acrylic, Philip might have employed a tempera.

His level of expression aside, we look to see if his pastoral landscape looks anything like our pastoral landscape. Crisp and exacting lines may be more to our liking, but we should not discount the faint fuzzy lines in what has come before our own efforts.

Rather, we should look much closer.

"My God, my God, why, O Lord, have you forsaken me?" (Mk 15:34). It was on the cross that he said these words, for he had departed from that place.

Philip sought to define a place in time and space; it took the form of an explanation. The medium of the communication was the quote attributed to Christ while on the cross, which actually was a recitation of a psalm of David. The quote by Philip is somewhat different, and opens new avenues for our thinking. The tool which Philip had at his disposal was a basic tool which we, in our day and age, just happen to share in common.

That tool is inquiry, it is the question 'why?'.

We ask the same question. Why did Christ say those particular words at that particular time and place? It has become a quotation for all possible audiences. Everyone who has ever heard or read of the account, as well as everyone who ever will hear or read of the account, stands beneath the lamp of those words. Who will be illuminated but those who choose to open their eyes and ask 'why'?

The issue for those who ask is this: did Christ speak to God, or did Christ speak to the audience? Did he cry out in agony, or did he send a message? If, from the cross, Christ dropped a clue for those of us in the habit of seeking clues, then we will linger at the cross til we find it. Philip lingered. Did he find his clue? Could that clue be whole, or did Philip find but a fragment? Many times the seeker, in search of the big picture, will find only a piece of the puzzle.

At this point we, as seekers of our own day and age, have a two-fold task ahead of us.

On the one hand, it behooves us to look closely at the reasoning of Philip, and on the other hand, we are responsible to make our own investigation. If what Christ dropped from the cross was intended for such seekers as Philip and ourselves, it might turn out to be more the key than clue. Keys are used to lock away treasures in chests and in treasuries, but keys are also used to unlock mysteries, and open a way for us to find higher meaning. For us seekers, higher meaning is all sparkly and glistening. Truth is our treasure.

So let us assume, then, that Christ wished, at and through that particular place and time, to point our inquiring minds to the psalm he quoted from. Investigation of that psalm may yield for us yet another aid in our endeavor. We should read it immediately – but not too quickly, and too, it must be diligently compared to the wording within Philip. In

our reading, we must be slow and cautious to remember the place and time from which the words were spoken. Of time, we have plenty; we can well afford, then, to make our two-fold task a three-fold task. Our third task, then, will be to define Christ on the cross.

First, let us define Christ on the cross. Then, let us investigate the psalm. Third, let us illuminate our findings in the psalm under the light of our definition. And finally, we can compare the results of our reasoning with the wording and reasoning of Philip.

How, then, should we define 'Christ on a cross'? We begin with a catalog of the aspects of the event. In other words, how many different ways can one express the concept of the event?

1. Christ died in the stead of guilty mankind.

2. A well-meaning prophet was betrayed and killed.

3. Christ on the cross represents the half-way point between God and man.

4. Christ was suspended between Heaven and Earth.

5. The cross was a strategic move within a deliberate plan of Christ and his followers.

6. Christ cried out to God (assuming the quote in Philip is accurate, and for some reason the writers of the canon found what he said to be close enough to the psalm that they used that instead.)

7. God did actually depart from Christ at that point. (It makes more sense that Christ should die as a man rather than a deity.)

Of the seven thoughts listed above, number seven bears directly on the reasoning of Philip. Indeed, it was there, and there only, that God being with Jesus was ever a real issue. All of his public works testified that God was with him in a big way, so why the departure at the cross? Many contemporary explanations of that question ultimately place limitations on God and Jesus. Hanging on a tree was a curse, etc. Our explanation more nearly empowers the event: as in 'done in such a way' as to achieve results.

Furthermore, there is the worldly symbol of the cross, and the spiritual symbol of the son of man. There is the concept of sacrifice, and of victory over worldly restraints. Yet, on a basic level of understanding, it is plain to see that spiritual and corporeal actions were in concert toward a specific end. Christ spoke of this end in veiled terms.

John 12:24 says this: “Except a corn of wheat fall into the ground and die, it abides alone: but if it die, it brings forth much fruit.�

Therefore, suspended between heaven and earth, the son of man buried himself with deliberate intent. When you look at an ear of corn, every kernel is nearly identical to the one that was planted. That is: to look at it from the spiritually symbolic angle, but to see it from the angle of worldly symbolism, we would sooner see beans than corn. The symbol of the cross is like the wooden stake that a young bean plant supports itself on

while it grows – and too, each bean within each pod is almost exactly identical to the one planted.

That is our definition-crossover-explanation of Christ on a cross. Now, let us examine the psalm. We will do that by a process of deduction. The first things we will remove are those bits that have historically been used to identify Jesus as Christ. This is necessary, for these verses only identify an individual; we wish to direct our investigation beneath that level.

What exactly are we removing? “My God, my God, why hast thou forsaken me? But I am a worm, and no man; a reproach of men, and despised of the people. All they that see me laugh me to scorn: they shoot out the lip, they shake the head, saying, He trusted on the Lord that he would deliver him: let him deliver him, seeing he delighted in him. they pierced my hands and my feet and all my bones are out of joint. I may tell all my bones: they look and stare upon me. They part my garments among them, and cast lots upon my vesture.”

If Christ is directing our attention to something in this psalm, let us make connections between Christ on the cross, and the remainder of the psalm. Is there something for the seeker? Will it be a key, and if so, what will it open?

We move on to that next level below; we continue the task of stripping away layers. The next level to be examined and removed is the level of the enemy: “Many bulls have compassed me: strong bulls of Bashan have beset me round. They gaped upon me with their mouths, as a ravening and a roaring lion. For dogs have compassed me: the assembly of the wicked have inclosed me.”

We may thus look at the enemy of Christ in Davidic terms. The enemy is described as an animal, or less than a man. Three animal references are employed: a bull, a lion, and a dog. A dog, from that cultural perspective, is used for the infidel. It is a reference to base people far below the cultural standards. The lion is a reference to the devil, who goes about seeking whom he may devour. The bull requires additional study, but all the animals are associated with a gaping maw that is ready to swallow whole the individual.

I have never really concerned myself with the bull aspect of this psalm, before now. A good reference source for allusions to the bulls of Bashan, and there significance, may be found here: http://bible.cc/psalms/22-12.htm. Suffice it to say that the bulls represent a fierce and brutal people in authority. One good connotation, in this regard, may be seen in Habakkuk 1:4, which speaks of the perversion of justice.

We may assume, from these animal references, that a fierce people, below the standard that Christ exemplified, used their authority to thwart and subvert justice in the spirit of the devil, in an attempt to swallow up the higher standard – thus reducing it to a more personally applicable level. After all, one way the devil may exalt himself to the heights of God is to reduce God to his own stature.

The next level is the petition for help: “But be not thou far from me, O Lord: O my strength, haste thee to help me. Be not far from me; for trouble is near; for there is none to help. Save

me from the lion's mouth: for thou hast heard me from the horns of the unicorns. Deliver my soul from the sword; my darling from the power of the dog.”

Again, we see the reference to the devil in the mouth of the 'lion'. We see, also, the dog, but how may we differentiate between the two concepts? Well, dogs generally run in packs whereas a lion may be seen more as a solitary hunter. Dogs have more of a social structure. We may see dogs in a pack as orbital of a central and singular authority.

Imagine the pack as subservient not to an alpha male of it's own kind, but to the lion.

The plea is for help that is quick and sure, as when we might call the police or the ambulance – our hope is that they will arrive in a timely fashion. The plea is for what is held dear, and the concept is: “my darling, my soul”. Now, there is plenty enough confusion concerning the nature of the soul; to alleviate this confusion, I have usually resorted to definitions that distance themselves from the out-of-reach. I end up with an amalgam: soul equals body plus spirit, in other words, one's whole identity.

The plea is to God, as to authority and power, but not to God far away – it is a plea to God so very near as to be internalized in the concept of strength. The plea is for the rallying of one's core attributes: one's best and highest to stand and defend. God, therefore is seen as the core element in an individual's whole identity. Let us see what a thesaurus offers for alternatives to the word 'strength'. A partial list appears as: force, potency, intensity, resolve, purpose, answer, execute, accomplish.

A Christ who went purposefully to the cross is not easily concerned with personal loss.

He would have been assured that his core being did not stem from the body, which perished, but from a source that was higher and stronger than flesh. His thinking was that he could lay it down, and then take it up again, as he had publicly stated, because it was not limited by the flesh. The strength, the soul, and darling that Christ would have been concerned with would carry a higher connotation. Look again at the thesaurus list above, and decide.

What's next? The psalmist's part: “O my God, I cry in the daytime, but thou hearest not; and in the night season, and am not silent”. Like David, Christ was a man of prayer. In the human condition, which David illuminated in his psalm, there is present the emotional additives of expectation, desperation, doubt, and fear. Unlike David, Christ was assured that his prayers were heard, and evinced such belief, with the sole possible exception being what might have been a quoted psalm.

We see the desperation of the psalmist in the following verses: “I am poured out like water,: my heart is like wax; it is melted in the midst of my bowels. My strength is dried up like a potsherd; and my tongue cleaveth to my jaws; and thou hast brought me into the dust of death. why art thou so far from helping me, and from the words of my roaring?” There is a

comparison to be made here, not between David and Jesus, but between man and a pot of water.

The psalmist states that his mind (heart) is dripping away from him like wax too near the flame; it has melted into his bowels, an old term used often for the emotions. That part about wax is a comparison to the psalmist's first concept of being poured out like water.

When you hold this up against the potsherd concept, it is easy to see the reference to a man's inner being, strength, and purpose.

A potsherd is a symbol of a broken pot, which in turn is a symbol of a broken man. A shard of a pot lies in the dust along the side of the road, and all who pass ignore it as it is useless. It's sole use (purpose, or, strength) was found in it being whole and holding within something of value. I will let the reader put together the symbols of water, spirit, and inner man.

As we continue to strip away the layers of this psalm, we next come to the assurances that are contained within. There are both personal and historical assurances. The psalmist's assurance: “But thou art he that took me out of the womb: thou didst make me hope when I was upon my mother's breasts. I was cast upon thee from the womb: thou art my God from my mother's belly.” This personal assurance speaks as well for Christ as it does

for David. It also speaks for all men and women, in that it speaks of a spiritual genesis.

Think of a pot giving birth to a pot; the pot is man-made, but the water is not, it is a gift.

The inner man can never be the product of physical nature.

There is also the historical assurance: “Our fathers trusted in thee: they trusted, and thou didst deliver them. They cried unto thee, and were delivered: they trusted in thee, and were not confounded”. This assurance was a matter of recorded history for David, but was just

as indispensable in the days of Christ. A great number of people still view that history as true today. Oral and written traditions carry the important things of a people through time.

Our next layer is in praise of the nature of God. Might Christ have been pointing to this?

“But thou art holy, O thou that inhabitest the praises of Israel. For the kingdom is the Lord's: and he is the governor among the nations. For he hath not despised nor abhorred the affliction of the afflicted; neither hath he hid his face from him; but when he cried unto him, he heard.” Five assertions are made here, and one of them contradicts the idea that Christ

thought God had deserted him. Let's examine these assertions.

God inhabits praise. (Yes, he is actually that close.)

The kingdom belongs to God. (As well the regular maintenance of its entirety.)

God is the governor among nations.

God concerns himself with the affliction of the afflicted.

God does not forsake those who call upon him.

These are no mere assumptions, nor are they claims of blind faith or baseless devotion.

These five assertions are assurances of matters that are above the human condition. As any upright body must necessarily include a load-bearing framework, such as our skeleton, so are these assertions a load-bearing framework upon which the muscle of hope and faith may be established and find exercise.

All of the five assertions are, as I have said, on a level higher than the human condition.

For those of our kind who do not place the human condition as the ceiling of their reality, these assertions are rudimentary. Of those five, the last is contrary to the notion that Christ might have actually believed himself deserted by God. Throughout the entire ordeal, God never left him alone. However, the supernatural qualities of Christ could not be permitted on the cross, and for good reason. If a death is called for, immortality is unsuited to the task.

If Christ is the example of what man can be and achieve, that example must be relevant to, and accessible from the human condition. In other words, the human condition is a ceiling we may rise above. In fact, if we are to attain any measure of Christ-likeness, we absolutely must rise above the human condition. Never should we cower before the lion, nor should we despair because of the sneering of dogs. Ever must we bear the violence of bulls. Is there something uncommon or unnatural about this? No. In the same field with the sheep may be found both the shepherd and the wolf.

Next level. There is an admonition within this psalm that may be seen to tie together two previous concepts mentioned in this study. “Ye that fear the Lord, praise him; all ye the seed of Jacob, glorify him; and fear him, all ye the seed of Israel.� The one concept is that God inhabits the praises of Israel. The other concept is the spiritual seed that Christ made of himself on the cross.

Both sides of an equation being true, if God inhabits the praises of Israel, then those who praise God are Israel. There are two identities of Israel to be considered here: the first was the historical, national, and physical Israel; the second identity is the spiritual Israel.

The human condition representing the Earth, and corporeal nature, the seed planted within that soil (the seed that would produce identities equal to a man possessed of God) would necessarily be a spiritual seed.

We can see that in the verse listed above. The admonition is to those who fear, or respect, the Lord. That group is admonished to praise the Lord, and as we now realize, when they do, God is just that close, even upon their lips. God lives actively within each and every word uttered in praise. That group is the seed of Israel. In agricultural parlance, it is understood that on an ear of corn, each kernel of corn is practically identical to the seed that produced it, and is itself, each and every one, a seed.

This section has seen close scrutiny; it was necessary to this study, but we are nearing the end, and we will be required to compare our findings with the reasoning of the initial statement made by Philip, as regards Christ on the cross, and the words spoken there and then.

What is our next level? It is the affirmation of both the psalmist and the Christ. By extension, it is also the affirmation of the product of the planted spiritual seed. That affirmation concerns the two congregations in which the affirmed vow is fulfilled. The two congregations: “I will declare thy name unto my brethren: in the midst of the congregation will I praise thee. My praise shall be of thee in the great congregation: I will pay my vows before them that fear him.”

There are two congregations, each to be compared with its counterpart. There is the general congregation, and the specific congregation. The specific congregation is distinctly set apart from the general in terms of importance, or elevation. It is the 'great' congregation. In both the common congregation and the elevated congregation, praise of God is equal. Paying of vows is equal. The name declared is equal. Yet, there are two congregations, and one is superior. There are two classifications of brethren, and one is superior.

The great congregation is the heavenly, and the brethren within it are the spiritual Israel.

More than the physical Israel that gathers in the common congregation, the spiritual Israel are they that truly take God to heart. That greater brotherhood that gathers in the higher halls of praise, will receive among themselves that greater brother. Let us assume they are angels – what is the image of this future event?

It is an image of the host of God receiving among their ranks a man possessed of God, a man who has arrived through trials to pay his vows. It sounds like a ceremony of initiation, or a rite of passage. It is the image not only of the seed planted, but of the harvest. It is also the image of me, and of you, standing among a great congregation, in whose praise God is very much alive.

There is, finally, within the psalm, a prophecy of the future of Earth and mankind. The future: “All they that be fat upon earth shall eat and worship: all they that go down to the dust shall bow before him: and none can keep alive his own soul. All the ends of the world shall remember and turn unto the Lord: and all the kindreds of the nations shall worship before thee. The meek shall eat and be satisfied: they shall praise the Lord that seek him: your heart shall live for ever. A seed shall serve him; it shall be accounted to the Lord for a generation.

They shall come, and shall declare his righteousness unto a people that shall be born, that he hath done this.”

Let us assume, for the sake of this topical study, that despite what anyone on Earth thinks or feels, in regard to issues of the Christian faith, the outcome, as seen in the verse above, is written in stone. What would that entail? All other beliefs will be swept aside.

Those who have formerly believed otherwise, as well as those who have not believed, will be no more. A new evolutionary stage of spiritual advancement and enlightenment will appear as the portal to a new era just as soon as we step through it.

The prophecy speaks to us of a process that is set, and which none may change. The non-spiritual individual may well be a dinosaur destined for extinction. A religious winnowing will cull out all but the spiritual disposition that has been predetermined by the process. Left will be the spiritual man whose faith and praise are most suited for the sustaining habitat of God. There is a message mankind must receive. It may take a generation but, more and more, man shall be found seeking the Lord. Those who seek are also those who praise; they are the spiritual Israel, each of them identical to the one seed that has served God with unimpeded success.

To assess the whole of the psalm from which Christ may have quoted, we would like our eyes to settle on the object. Have you ever had someone point, and then you follow the general direction to see what was meant for your eyes? Only, you did not see it right away. You looked, and strained, becoming annoyed, thinking perhaps there was nothing there. Then all your mounting frustration and doubt is swept aside: you see and understand.

Did Christ point to this psalm as he hung from the cross between Heaven and Earth?

What must we see when we look there? There is a prophecy for mankind's end, but is there something there for the individual? Perhaps. If any of us are looking, we should consider that we are the seekers. We are the new Israel, the generation that will bring the message of what has been done, who did it, and what will come of the work. If we are of the seed, we are the seed. If Christ said what he said at that time and place, as Philip asserts: because that is where he left this world, then it seems likely that we, the seed, will step through that same portal.

Let's look at another definition. We have doubtless all been told this or that by some person or the other in our lives. It is likely, at that time, we responded, or else we thought, that the point really depended on one's definition. Our notion was that not everyone believes the same things, or the same way. Different people see things differently, that is true, but that fact does not relegate one of the opposing points to a position of falsehood. If my position is North and your position is South, that may only mean that they are interdependent.

Philip's position is this: Surely what a man accomplishes depends on his abilities. For this reason, we refer to one's accomplishments as "abilities".

This is a common assessment most of us can agree upon. If a person teaches class at a local school, that is considered his or her ability, or skill, and is likely something that person is trained in, and practices regularly.

Philip goes on to say, Among his accomplishments are his children.

Let's view that in the same way as we viewed the teacher above. If a person has a child, it is because he or she is able to. It does not trouble us to see that particular accomplishment as an ability on that person's part. As to skill and training, I hesitate to comment, but there are a great many millions of people who are not only regularly practiced, but highly prolific.

Philip considers the production of offspring as an easy labor; he says, They originate in a moment of ease. Personally, I disagree. As an older man I must confess, that particular act is a lot of work. It's strenuous, and exhausting. There have been times that I wished to skip right to the cigarette.

Philip has observed life no less than you or I. Clearly, he is speaking of things common to mankind. Yet, within the commonplace, Philip notes a point of philosophical interest, and is, thus, able to branch away from the common.

Thus his abilities determine what he may accomplish, but this ease is clearly evident in the children.

The point is this: a farmer may accomplish farming and parenting. The child, on the other hand, may have no skill or inclination toward farming, but is able to produce his own kind, just as his or her parents did.

This is where Philip takes the common knowledge to a higher level. In speaking of inherited abilities, Philip takes it up a notch, passing from the physical father and son to the spiritual Father and son.

You will find that this applies directly to the image.

In making such a statement, Philip addresses the concept that man is the image and glory of God.

Here is the man made after the image accomplishing things with his physical strength, but producing his children with ease.

Philip speaks of all manner of men, whatever they may do in life. In creating children, a parent does more than pass on the ability to produce a copy with similar physical abilities. The parent, as an image of the spiritual Father, passes down the spiritual ability and brand.

Our definition of this topic may differ from that which Philip has conveyed, but not, primarily in the common aspect. We might disagree where Philip waxes spiritual.

However, I must insert here, that one's choice is not the final word on one's ability or accomplishment. My dad was an image of the creator, but his focus was upon practical necessities such as paying the bills. He had no inclination to involve himself in spiritual investigations. Yet, in passing down what he possessed, he passed to me the spiritual brand, and while I have not been or done all that my dad has been or done, I find in me more of the Father through practiced ability.

In making a definition, people often say things in reverse. This is especially true in the western mentality. Our language is rife with backward expressions. We say things such as 'thunder and lightning'. In dressing, we put on our 'shoes and socks'. This tendency to say things in a reverse order is associated with sets rather than singularities. We express the components of a set in a way that is easy and convenient. Our communications follow these paths without undo thought, that is the whole point to having ease and convenience.

It is just such a simple convenience that Philip seeks to redefine. In some cases we may actually think the way we speak. Upon reflection, none of us believe that thunder actually comes before lightning, but in certain other issues, the lines may be more easily confused.

Philip addresses this fact: Those who say they will die first and then rise are in error. If they do not first receive the resurrection while they live, when they die they will receive nothing. So also when speaking about baptism they say, "Baptism is a great thing," because if people receive it they will live.

An error in spiritual thinking – it is not only possible, but likely. Such an error may well stem from man's tendency to couch concept sets within comfortable expressions. It seems likely that the concept set of 'resurrection and life' is an instance of reversal, as in 'thunder and lightning'.

When I write about spirituality, what I hope to convey is mentality: everything that is higher than the physical body and its emotions. Our spiritual identity is one with our evolving ability to think and reason. Therefore, anything we wish to 'take with us',

beyond the termination of the flesh, must first be incorporated into our thinking, our reasoning, our spiritual identity.

The definitions that Philip proffers afford us this view: that resurrection must be a part of our spiritual identity before we die, and salvation must be a part of our spiritual identity before we are baptized.

Definitions by the common man are not precise. Not everyone can be a Webster. So it is that we find in common definitions a crossover into explanation, identification, and also comparison. In the following segment, Philip identifies himself as 'not the apostle'. We must be careful to realize, however, that this in no way implies authenticity of the quote thus ascribed to the apostle. Rather, we must view the statements which follow less in terms of identification, and more in terms of explanation by way of comparison.

Philip the apostle said, "Joseph the carpenter planted a garden because he needed wood for his trade.

As it is uncertain whether Joseph was a carpenter or mason, this comment must be viewed as a comparison to the original garden. If the two gardens are thus compared, then we must also compare the one father to the other.

It was he who made the cross from the trees which he planted. His own offspring hung on that which he planted. His offspring was Jesus, and the planting was the cross." But the Tree of Life is in the middle of the Garden.

As can be clearly seen from the continuation of this story, either by Philip the apostle or

by Philip the author, Joseph and God are actually compared in that it is said that Joseph made the cross from the 'trees' of the garden. The story thus becomes a treatment of predestination. The Yin and Yang of it is that both trees, life and death, were planted in the same garden. However, the sub-current of the argument is that life is to be found, not in the general outer multiplicity, but in the innermost core.

Almost as an after-thought, Philip returns to the general multiplicity to point specifically to one of its trees.

However, it is from the olive tree that we got the chrism, and from the chrism, the resurrection.

The olive stood alone in its value both to the physical and spiritual man. Indeed, it seems to have been revered as the element that brought the two together. The physical act of anointing was honored as a central and vital ingredient for the activation of ascension.

The symbolism is that of an individual who has followed in the anointing of Christ, and of one who has received the Holy Ghost.

Philip returns to the topic of chrism in his attempts both to define it and to place it within the order of importance. Philip draws his conclusions, in direction, from the word to the concept, thus attributing a certain sense of reality and power to the word. That was nothing new, neither was it particularly 'gnostic', as it was a type of thought process intrinsic to the Hebraic culture of that era.

The chrism is superior to baptism, for it is from the word "Chrism" that we have been called "Christians," certainly not because of the word "baptism".

Here, Philip points to common knowledge, getting past the obvious, in his placement of the word. This mechanism of reasoning which Philip employs, that of pinning reality to the word, is in a way comparable to modern scientists who pin reality to a mathematical formula. For Philip, the word is the formula. So, in effect, Philip is saying there is John the baptism, on the one hand, and Jesus the anointing, on the other hand. Christ is the anointed, therefore it follows that his followers are anointed, both revealed and explained in and by the same word: chrism.

And it is because of the chrism that "the Christ" has his name.

In fleshing out the general definition, he explains the connections, thus adding them as contributing factors within his definition: For the Father anointed the Son, and the Son anointed the apostles, and the apostles anointed us.

One is able to see how everything is connected by the anointing. If we ask: what did God use to anoint Christ with, (as if to ask is there a spiritual counterpart of the anointing oil) my best guess at present is that the physical Jesus was anointed, thus producing a Christ. Recall, if you will, that one of the three gifts brought by the Magi was chrism, otherwise known as Myrrh.

The continuation of this explanation is also echoed in canonical scripture. 1st Corinthians three, 21 through 23 says as much. 2nd Corinthians six ten says it again. 1st Timothy six seventeen has the weight of a third witness. 2nd Peter one three is witness number four.

And Revelation twenty-one seven follows as a fifth witness.

He who has been anointed possesses everything. He possesses the resurrection, the light, the cross, the Holy Spirit.

The symbol of the bridal chamber was pertinent to the thinking of that day and age, for it suggested the hidden mysteries of the process of creation. It was there that God created his begotten son, Jesus, who became that son simply by accepting the gift. Now, it appears that the particular gift that Jesus accepted is the self-same gift that is freely offered to each of us who would become born again children of God; it is the connection. It is God in man and man in God. It is the marriage of physical to spiritual.

The Father gave him this in the bridal chamber; he merely accepted (the gift). The Father was in the Son and the Son in the Father.

Philip's ending argument, here, is that this combination constitutes what we commonly call the kingdom of heaven. He concludes: This is the Kingdom of Heaven. Perhaps that is why the canonical Jesus tells us that the kingdom is within and without.

Let us turn to another of Philip's definitions: The world came about through a mistake.

It appears that the concepts of perfection and completeness were subject to debate even in ancient times. It is not particular to our time that such concepts be brought under the magnifying glass. However, unlike the scorners of our day and age, Philip is not negating God, or his work. It sounds like Philip said life is an accident, even a mistake on God's part. Why would he say such a thing?

For he who created it wanted to create it imperishable and immortal.

It sounds like Philip said God failed to reach what we hold as the ideal. Surely, neither Philip nor any other could possibly know what God had in mind. So, was Philip just being cheeky when he made the assertion?

He said of God: He fell short of attaining his desire. What was he thinking? Was there a point to such an argument? For the world never was imperishable, nor, for that matter, was he who made the world.

Now, wait!

Did we just read that God is perishable? Does the writer think to change the minds of believers on the nature of God, or is he reaching for something altogether different?

What is Philip really saying? I think he wants us to understand that anything of this world will ultimately cease to be – they are, after all, just things. He wants us to know, not that God is a thing, but that our concept of God is a thing. Our concept of the world and universe was created by our concept of God, and concepts are constructs – mere things that will perish.

Therefore, Philip is hoping to redirect our thoughts from perishable constructs toward connections and processes that are imperishable.

For things are not imperishable, but sons are.

You may well ask, how is a son any less perishable than another physical thing? The thing isn't, but Philip is not pointing to 'son' as an entity, but 'son' as a process. The connection that Philip indicates, within his reasoning, attaches to the entity a certain imperishable quality. The difference between an object and that which the object holds is that the object is stationary, while the quality moves on.

We come then to the point Philip wishes to convey: Nothing will be able to receive imperishability if it does not first become a son. But he who has not the ability to receive, how much more will he be unable to give?

Earlier, we looked at the bridal chamber, noting its importance within thoughts of that age and culture. We saw that within the mystery of the bridal chamber, the son was created by a particular process. The father in a moment of ease, passed on his accomplishments, abilities, and skills as a gift that was both a connection and spiritual brand.

That brand, those skills and abilities, that connection with imperishable likeness to the father was the gift. For the son to become the son, he merely had to receive the gift, but the gift, once received, could not be stationary with stationary man – it had to be passed along. What was the point? The point was to show that immortality is a quality of the spirit. The body may hold it for a short time, then it must be passed on.

When the thoughts of Philip turn to the rituals of his time, he defines them by way of their interconnectedness. There are, here, two sets which Philip lays out like a cross. The first set is baptism and the cup of communion. The second set is Christ and the perfect man. Philip points to the connection between Christ and the man who receives Christ, he points to the connection between baptism and the communion cup, and then he points to the connection between these two sets.

We can not be sure that the views set forth by Philip were shared by his peers, but the fact that Philip communicated to others through this text is sufficient to our need: namely that it is our contention that the Holy Spirit communicates to man through any given medium in any given age. Within the harvest that Philip offers is the seed planted by the hands of God. Philip suggests that: The cup of prayer contains wine and water, since it is appointed as the type of the blood for which thanks is given.

In saying such a thing, he points directly to the person of Christ. The type of blood which the cup symbolizes is the blood mingled with water that was reported in connection with the crucifixion of Christ.

He continues with the assertion that the ritual is a form of communication. It is that, through the Holy Spirit, the elevated nature is communicated to the one who looks up.

To partake of, that is to believe in the efficacy of, the shed blood is, in fact, the saved receiving into himself the nature of the savior.

And it is full of the Holy Spirit, and it belongs to the wholly perfect man. When we drink this, we shall receive for ourselves the perfect man.

(The living water is a body.) http://www.kingjamesbibleonline.org/Bible-Verses-About-LivingWater/ We see two separate elements in the cup: one is blood, or the life of the body, and two is the living water. The living water can rightly be called the water of life. It is said to be a body of sorts – the spirit being compared to the fluid nature of water. As a body, water fills, water flows on to the next, but it is not intended to be a thing unto itself. It

may be compared in many ways to wind, and to invisible spirit, and by extension of certain qualities, to light, but the most important thing about water is that nothing can live without it.

The perfect man, therefore, partakes of the laying down of the physical life, but in that death, he partakes also of the life that is exposed by the death. The life was always there; the blood was mingled with it. The stripping away of the physical nature exposed the life that made that nature possible. That water, then, that body of life, is the nail that binds together the concept of communion with the concept of baptism.

In its filling nature, water must become the body it is in. That is not to say that it becomes the old body. No, it must become the new body, for the death on the cross stripped away the old body. The newly exposed life must have a new counterpart. The 'living man' will only make sense as the man of 'life', that is: a new direction, a new focus.

It is necessary that we put on the living man. Therefore, when he is about to go down into the water, he unclothes himself, in order that he may put on the living man.

Both the inner and outer definition are tied together in these combined rituals. The ritual reflects the belief. On the outside, a man sips from a cup that contains physical wine and water, but in his belief, a great window is ripped open in the fabric of reality, and the very nature of the communicator is communicated.

He is, in a figure of speech, a round hole that receives a square peg – now he must take off the life that most fit his old roundness, and put on the new life that most fits the squareness he just received. He is a physical being, intelligent, and he knows that he will continue in his physical body; he knows that is not what he is to replace. In baptism, he does not remove his body, only his clothing. Clothing represents the things that he, himself, has added.

Next is a case of definition by comparison. Two unions are compared: the physical and the spiritual. Each union may be understood to contain its own polarities. In the physical, the polarities are male and female: equated as strength and weakness.

Whereas in this world the union is one of husband with wife - a case of strength complemented by weakness(?) However, in the Aeon (eternal realm), the form of the union is different, although we refer to them by the same names.

Those same names: male and female, man and woman, superior and inferior, are given as the model for the Yin and Yang of Aeonic union.

A tenet of the thoughts of Philip, perhaps of the thoughts of his time, is the power and nature contained in a word. After all, they believed the worlds were framed by a word.

(Heb. 11:3) Philip takes that belief toward the level of explanation and definition,

inferring that the word is an outward manifestation of a spiritual reality, much like a glove is an extension of a hand. The implication points to the futility of worldly words.

He wants us to understand both the difference and the oneness of the higher realities, and all subsequent manifestations.

There are other names, however; they are superior to every other name that is named and are stronger than the strong.

Philip illustrates his point with a superior and inferior that anyone can comprehend easily. The illustration includes the superior nature of strength, and also the physical man who takes within himself the nature of strength.

For where there is a show of strength, there those who excel in strength appear.

Thus, Philip would have us understand that physical nature is a subsequent manifestation of spiritual reality – the glove that fits around the hand: the strength of the glove being the strength of the hand.

We are advised to view these as one. They go together.

These are not separate things, but both of them are this one single thing.

The understanding (the hand) is superior to the man (the glove), yet, they are one, and mutually advantageous.

However, the understanding is placed, not apart from but, within the man, and the man understands himself, first and foremost, physically. To man, all the universe is a glove.

Of the two (which comprise the one) the understanding of man may not rise above the physical. The other side of that coin is this: if one of the two is pointed out as being unable to rise, that is intended to show that the other, by way of contrast, is superior in that it is able to rise.

This is the one which will not be able to rise above the heart of flesh.

The understanding of man may be well-grounded, but the man of understanding, being a higher manifestation, does not share the same tether.

Is it not necessary for all those who possess everything to know themselves?

Here, Philip touches on philosophy that is a Greek rather than Biblical aphorism. Many people through history have lumped “Know thyself” together with Biblical truth. Having Googled the expression, I found a long list of people still asking: “is know thyself in the Bible”. Perhaps we should view Philip's consideration of the aphorism as a marker of the extent of his learning.

Actually, the aphorism has more than one meaning, but Philip places it here within the context of connectedness. In assessing the original question, the reader is warned to focus on “everything” rather than on “possess”. It is the expression “possess everything” that links Greek philosophy to Biblical philosophy. (1cor. 3:21, 2cor. 6:10, 1tim. 6:17, 2pet. 1:3, & rev. 21:7)

Implied within the original question is the assertion of a truth. Philip explains his assertion with two statements, and there seems to be an intentional contrast between those who know, and those who do not know, themselves. The contrast, I think, is meant to point out a sense of ascendancy inherent in knowing oneself.

Some indeed, if they do not know themselves, will not enjoy what they possess.

Anyone can own something, lay claim, get a title, etc. However, once you buy your acre and fence it in, you are surrounded by all that you do not own. It seems an exercise in self-limitation, and alienation.

So, by contrast, one who knows himself, may be of just the opposite inclination – one who has not imposed limitations, one who has not set himself apart. This type of person may be one who owns a truth rather than a rock, one who possesses love for neighbors rather than a fence. In other words, there are possessions, and there are possessions.

But those who have come to know themselves will enjoy their possessions.

On the surface of this next thought, we see a man that is a priest, and what he does with stuff. We might think, then, that the point of this is that the priest needs to be clean and spotless. We might see a connection to the ordinary priest and Christ in his high office.

However, the thought is not so much about the priest as it is about the nature of consecration.

The priest is completely holy, down to his very body. For if he has taken the bread, he will consecrate it. Or the cup or anything else that he gets, he will consecrate. Then how will he not consecrate the body also?

All things physical are a reflection of spiritual reality, therefore, a man will become what his nature dictates, and he will thus affect all that he touches. A cop becomes a cop because of the nature which is present in him, a Doctor becomes a Doctor because of the inner Doctor. It is the same with an artist, a baker, a poet, a lout, or a priest.

What we need to understand in all this is the spirit of consecration. Perhaps any one of us may look within and find that very nature. What is consecration? Basically, the spirit of consecration is the spirit of devotion to a higher end. It is a focus that allows for the setting aside from the common or mundane.

As such, this nature denotes the propensity toward selection and judgment – as in the story of the merchant who sold all his little pearls in order to obtain one large pearl. The priestly nature is not only found in priests: consider the individual who devotes himself to science; we find there also the spirit of consecration.

Philip speaks next of fidelity. The first part of his statement is common knowledge both to his generation and ours.

The children a woman bears resemble the man who loves her. If her husband loves her, then they resemble her husband. If it is an adulterer, then they resemble the adulterer.

A bit of myth enters his explanation at this point. That generation had no access to microscopes and DNA research. However, a close inspection of his wording reveals that, despite the myth, DNA would still have played its central role in the given scenario.

Frequently, if a woman sleeps with her husband out of necessity, while her heart is with the adulterer with whom she usually has intercourse, the child she will bear is born resembling the adulterer.

That is made plain by the fact that she usually had intercourse with the adulterer. Which one she loved more had little to do with it.

Still, the scenario lends itself rather well to the point Philip wishes to illuminate. The core point is: 'like father like son'.

Now you who live together with the Son of God, love not the world, but love the Lord, in order that those you will bring forth may not resemble the world, but may resemble the Lord.

The difficulty of definition is tackled here. Philip begins with an observation. That observation could have been personal, or it could have issued from a system of thought already established.

Blessed is the one who on no occasion caused a soul [distress]. That person is Jesus Christ. He came to the whole place and did not burden anyone.

By extension, he then includes, within the framework of his initial assessment, all of us who seek to emulate the blessed one.

Therefore, blessed is the one who is like this, because he is a perfect man.

The perfect man, then, begs definition.

For the Word tells us that this kind is difficult to define. How shall we be able to accomplish such a great thing?

The problem is this: how can a perfect man define the perfect man? The very act of defining the perfect man, also defines the imperfect man, and thus may cause distress of soul to some.

How will he give everyone comfort?

The belief, here, is much like the one held by many of our own day and age. The belief is generic and homogenous. It is a stance that is offended at being on the losing end of

discernment and judgment. It complains of judgment across the board. It condemns all individuals and institutions of faith for taking a stand – for daring to state that there is a right and a wrong, a good and a bad, or a name or a cause worth killing and dying for.

Quite peaceably, and without rancor, Philip simply asks how far can we take the sweet end of being good.

Above all, it is not proper to cause anyone distress - whether the person is great or small, unbeliever or believer - and then give comfort only to those who take satisfaction in good deeds.

Indeed, many a faithless person esteems his good deeds of equal merit with the good deeds of believers. They tout their non-stand ('live and let live') as an alternative stand to actually taking a stand – that is: to make a judgment. They say: whatever makes you happy, run with it.

Some find it advantageous to give comfort to the one who has fared well.

There is a flaw in such thinking.

He who does good deeds cannot give comfort to such people, for he does not seize whatever he likes. He is unable to cause distress, however, since he does not afflict them.

The utter impossibility of giving comfort to this type is equal to the impossibility of causing distress to this type, for to say 'live and let live' is not an interaction between types, but total and unabashed inaction – with the sole exception of patting oneself on the back.

The definition of the perfect man may at times overlap the definition of the one who fares well. Those who have taken life by the horns, and received of it to their full satisfaction, may not be inclined to move beyond that point. It may be that the act of taking life by the horns is a purposeful campaign to receive their full satisfaction at the expense of others, or the distress of others may simply be due to the nature of the others – envy or jealousy, for example.

To be sure, the one who fares well sometimes causes people distress - not that he intends to do so; rather, it is their own wickedness which is responsible for their distress.

However, when it is exactly the perfect man, and there is no overlap of definition, we must know that this type of individual is focused – that is: a person of discernment and judgment, a person who takes a stand. The perfect man may or may not associate or communicate with individuals outside his own type. To those within his own type, no doubt, he is well received.

He who possesses the qualities (of the perfect man) bestows joy upon the good.

His very existence, along with anything he does or says, however, can be an annoyance to other types, expressly those who are offended at being on the losing end of discernment and judgment.

Some, however, are terribly distressed by all this.

Fill In The Blanks This area includes blanks and gaps: parts of the manuscript which have fallen into disrepair, parts with missing words. It is difficult for the reader to comprehend the text just through the parts that remain. Still, what remains clearly provides clues to those of us inclined to 'fill in the blanks'. We would only be guessing, but who is to say that guessing is not, in itself, a spiritual exercise.

I am inclined to guess. It is my peculiar way of thinking that allows me to imagine a communication from God in which I am permitted a voice. My input shall be included between the brackets in red size 14 font. Also, I encourage serious readers to try their own hand at filling in the blanks.

We may take certain words and expressions in extant text for clues. These clues prove essential to our guesswork, as they guide us in the filling in of blank areas. I will underline what we must zero in on. Let's take this in steps.

The soul of Adam came into being by means of a breath.

There seems to be nothing new in the concept, as it has been believed pretty much from the beginning that God breathed life into Adam, and as the scripture says, he became a living soul.

However, man has since often reflected on the true nature of the soul. What is a soul, exactly? Philip also puzzled over the nature of the soul. His ruminations are instructive.

I never thought, for example, that a soul had a partner. The general concept of Adam is two-fold: Adam, and the life that was breathed into him. It follows that once Adam was alive, the body would take over in a way that we, today, understand. That is: the firing of synapses creating the perceptions of the individual, etc.

The partner of his soul is the spirit.

Now, I am forced to scrutinize the original list of ingredients.

We think of God the Father breathing life into the first man; we do not normally include thoughts of a mother for Adam, but Philip did.

His mother is the thing that was given to him.

When we think of God, we think of a person. When Philip considered the mother of Adam, he thought of a thing.

We have been too casual in our assessments. Now, we must knuckle down in order to follow Philip's extended list of ingredients. Here, we've been thinking: body of Adam, breath of God. Philip's extended, and I add, clarified list includes a whopping: body, breath, soul, and spirit.

So, just how did Philip envision the creation of Adam. Clearly, he was not concerned with the body from clay issue. That seems to be a given, at least an issue that Philip deemed of lesser importance. Philip's focus was on higher issues. The body received the breath of life; it lived – enough said. Philip cared less about the animated body, and more about the internal identity. I follow that lead.

After all, animals have animated bodies, but the higher constructs seem inadequate.

Therefore, it seems to me that Philip considered both the soul and the spirit to be of the higher internal order. In the words of Philip, the soul came into being by a breath, and appears as an addition to, rather than a condition of, the body of Adam. In fact, I see, in the thinking of Philip, two contrasted sets. The one is body plus life, and the other is soul plus spirit. Philip seemed to assess the body as the partner of life, and the spirit as the partner of the soul.

There is, then, a primary and secondary placement of concepts. The soul is primary while the spirit is relegated to the position of partner. So, where does the mother of Adam enter this story? Adam's mother was a thing, the thing that was given to him. The life of Adam is, here, not considered. It is only prerequisite. What was given was an anchored identity, a sense of self in the corporeal nature. Could it be assumed that Adam was complete at that point? Obviously, God was not through with Adam's creation – at least, according to Philip. No, there was one more thing God wished to accomplish in man.

His soul was taken from him and replaced by a spirit.

At this point, I am inclined to recall that the spirit is the partner of the soul. Partners, at least in my thinking, should exist in tandem, not in the absence of one or the other. I must, for that reason, see in Philip's wording, not a replacement, but rather, a 'one-up', an upgrade in which the soul is enhanced by the addition of a higher quality: the spirit.

Philip's very next thought justifies my own assessment, for he wrote of the soul (or identity) and spirit united.

When he was united (to the spirit), he spoke words incomprehensible to the powers.

Suddenly, in the sequence of concepts, a replacement becomes a union. Thus amended, man might be considered a being made a little lower than the angels. It seems quite clear that the 'powers' were beings of intellect and reason, and this from the fact that they

suddenly were aware of something they could not understand. Furthermore, that something was special and desirable, in that those beings envied the ones who possessed that special incomprehensibility.

Now, I think we might be equipped to fill in the missing parts of this text.

They envied him [because he was less, and yet, he had more than they; he had a] spiritual partner [. The work had been] hidden [from them, and there was no] opportunity [for them to acquire what they imagined should be] for themselves alone [.

God had brought forth a better son in the secret of the] bridal chamber, so that [Adam possessed both the image of the mother and of the Father].

Next is a simple statement. The blank areas seem altogether small, and worthy of a simple treatment. I have based my treatment on previous readings of similar texts, and I offer both a positive and a negative take for comparison.

[Blessed is the one] who has been begotten through him who [came] from God. [Cursed is the one] who has been begotten through him who [came not] from God. Thinking man has always set himself above the brutish man. In the following segment, Philip considered man at opposite ends of the spectrum. He contrasted the perfect man, that is: the man that was meant to be, against man as just another animal, a soul without the higher attributes of spirit. In this, the brute is shown as a mere image, and quite empty without the addition of the inner man. It is that addition that perfects man.

The [perfect man stands apart] from the dead. [For it is certain that the soul without a spirit was not meant] to be, but now [man is] perfect. [This body is not the true] flesh, but this [perfect man] is true flesh. [Soul without spirit] is not true, but [that man] only possess an image of the true.

There are two trees growing in Paradise. The one bears animals, the other bears men.

Adam ate from the tree which bore animals. He became an animal and he brought forth animals. For this reason the children of Adam worship animals.

This odd assumption offers the seeker an opportunity to rethink certain core issues of the creation mythos. As in the trees of the garden, being a polarized group of two, Philip presented us with another set of two opposites. We must, therefore, reconcile in our thinking the two sets of symbols. Life versus knowledge of good and evil is set in contrast against man versus the man-animal.

In Philip's mind, man and the man-animal were the same, but for one crucial detail: the man-animal did not possess that addition which the angels coveted. Are we then able to

compare the tree of good and evil knowledge to the tree that bares animals? I think so.

Man as an animal, even without the spiritual addition, is able to think and reason.

We have questions. First, why was life compared to knowledge, rather than death?

Second, is this comparison comparable to man compared with animal? Third, why are Philip's trees placed in the present tense, as yet growing or developing? Fourth, where and what is paradise?

According to the Bible, Adam ate from the tree of knowledge, and was rewarded with death. The knowledge was mixed, being both good and evil. A choice was involved: Adam was forewarned. The fruit of that tree was desired (possibly in the same way that the powers envied Adam.) As we know, Adam went on living: physical death was not immediate, and may well have not been the death he was warned against.

Here is the interesting part about Philip's iteration. Adam ate from the tree that bore animals – therefore, Adam ate an animal. Adam ate flesh – the animal had to die and bleed, writhe and cry out in fear. Another word for eat, of course, is ingest, and one may ingest a thing by choosing it as a path and a way of living. If Adam merely chose, then he chose to be an animal, a thinking creature whose knowledge is always mixed and never pure.

Adam became an animal, possibly by choice, and against good advice. We have an old saying: you are what you eat. What we must see here, I think, are two ways of being, two opposing paths and choices. Ultimately, the thing we incorporate into our being is the thing we become.

Is Philip's story one merely of a vegetarian species choosing to eat meat? Scientists will assert that the eating of flesh played a vital role in the development of the brain in early species. Had hunter-gatherers once been only gatherers? Did they have to choose between flesh and extinction? Did they come to view their new diet as their salvation?

Could that be why Philip made such an assertion?

What one thing about mankind's idyllic paradise may we consider as most lost? What did man loose in the trade? Well, there was a departure from paradise, but not to a hunter gatherer life style. As we recall, Adam worked as a farmer. And, for Able to offer an animal sacrifice, the family had to possess domesticated animals.

Man went from gardener to farmer, from caretaker to killers of animals. What happened after Adam ate the animal fruit we will never know. We will never know just when he was ejected from the garden. Flaming swords, as an indication of the extremity of his choice, seems a bit severe for the first bite. How long did they hide themselves from God? How decimated had the animal population become?

The change, for Adam and his family, does not quite fit the model that Philip put forth.

He tells us that is why the children of Adam worship animals, but as we recall, Adam and his family worshiped God. Their sacrifices were to God. The one loose end might be

Cain. Did he fight with his brother over wasted meat? Did he carry into his exile a propensity toward gluttony and blood lust?

Philip considered issues that we still argue over. Did God create man, or did man create God? There are two choices; there are two paths man may follow. One of those paths creates images of the things that sustain and satisfy man. They are worshiped. The other path, partaking of the same flesh, offers something first to God, and God is worshiped.

In both cases, man kills animals for food and clothing, etc. History points to these two paths. The path of the chosen, in this regard, is trial and error. Twice, man and animal have been thrown together for the continuation of all. The first time, man failed. The second time, he succeeded.

I speak, of course, of the garden of Adam compared to the ark of Noah. Twice in the book of Genesis, God used a post-catastrophic statement. These statements are found in: Gen. 1:28 and Gen. 9:1.

In the Noah account, he and his family and all the animals had been saved from the catastrophe of the flood. The populations of the earth had been reduced to just the ark.

When God told Noah to replenish the earth, he of course meant that it should be restocked. The definition of the word replenish, as given by Merriam-Webster, is to restore or restock to the former level or condition.

God uses the same word: 'replenish' with Adam. Both Adam and the animals are placed in a garden that God planted. If God used the same post-catastrophic word with both Noah and Adam, and Noah was saved with the animals, then we may be justified in the view that Adam and the animals were saved from some catastrophe, and for the same purpose as Noah – to replenish the earth.

Man had been saved with the animals. Man was special at that time; he possessed something God had added to him which had turned the man-animal into a man. Like Noah after the flood, Adam was blessed, and commanded to replenish. Like Noah, there were two paths before Adam. There were choices.

The trees in the garden may be viewed diagrammatically as the forks in the road that Adam traveled. Our choices depend, to a great degree, on who we are. Noah made a choice. One of his first actions after leaving the ark was to build an altar and worship God. Like Adam, Noah had been a caretaker. Adam had been given something the angels envied; he gave it up for a choice. That choice did not result in physical death, that was already built into the physical being. What he lost was the spiritual partner.

Let us now fill in the blanks, and finalize Philip's paradisaical philosophy.

The tree [of life bears spiritual fruit. That] fruit is [eaten, and man is] increased. [Adam first ate of the tree of life. He] ate the [fruit that bears men and became a man, then he ate the] fruit of the [tree which bears animals, and not of the fruit which] bears men, [and Adam was no longer a] man. [Adam was lifted above the other animals, and given

a spirit.] God created man. [Men chose the animal over the man, and now,] men create God. That is the way it is in the world - men make gods and worship their creation. It would be fitting for the gods to worship men!

Here, we find Philip addressing the heavenly ministry, and the thought is that things in heaven are the opposite of things on earth. It is a notion seen often in scripture. Philip elaborates the notion, in its entirety, with a simple illustration.

In this world, the slaves serve the free. In the Kingdom of Heaven, the free will minister to the slaves: He sets the free and the slaves in contrast, then by that, explains the difference between two types of spirits, mindsets, or levels of ascension. Those types are solidified in the following: the children of the bridal chamber will minister to the children of the marriage.

Both types are children. Such a name points to the fact that both must come to what they are, developmentally, from a parent source. They are made what they are, set where they are, and placed on their particular path.

The children of the marriage are they who are headed in that direction – toward a union.

Among those children are found both the free and slaves, in a worldly sense. The children of the bridal chamber exist not prior to the union, but as a result of the union.

It seems inherent in the symbolism, chosen by Philip, that the worldly are set on a path that culminates at the union, and that by the union, new children are produced and set on a new path. To me, it seems obvious: the first children are the second children oneupped. The new children, in their ministry, help the old children become the new.

At first, I felt the following portion had too much missing text, and I was unsure how I was to treat it. However, I think I have gained a sense of Philip sufficient to hazard an attempt at filling in the blanks. My efforts, here, should be taken as no more than one person's guesswork.

This portion of Philip's text revolves around the word 'contemplation'. Before I attempt to fill in the blanks, I would like the reader to have an appropriate reference for the word. In that regard, I submit some excerpts from Wikipedia: In Catholic Christianity, contemplation is given importance. The Catholic Church's 'model theologian,' St. Thomas Aquinas wrote: “It is requisite for the good of the human community that there should be persons who devote themselves to the life of contemplation.” One of his disciples, Josef Pieper commented: “For it is contemplation which preserves in the midst of human society the truth which is at one and the same time useless and the yardstick of every possible use; so it is also contemplation which

keeps the true end in sight, gives meaning to every practical act of life.�

In Eastern Christianity contemplation (theoria) literally means to see God or to have the Vision of God. The state of beholding God, or union with God, is known as theoria. The process of theosis which leads to that state of union with God known as theoria is practiced in the ascetic tradition of Hesychasm. Hesychasm is to reconcile the heart and the mind into one thing.

Contemplation in Eastern Orthodoxy is expressed in degrees as those covered in St John Climacus' Ladder of Divine Ascent. The process of changing from the old man of sin into the new born child of God and into our true nature as good and divine is called theosis.

This is to say that once someone is in the presence of God, deified with him, then they can begin to properly understand, and there "contemplate" God. This form of contemplation is to have and pass through an actual experience rather than a rational or reasoned understanding of theory (see Gnosis). Whereas with rational thought one uses logic to understand, one does the opposite with God (see also Apophatic theology).

The children of the bridal chamber have just one name: rest. Altogether, they need take no other form, because they have contemplation, [and are the connection between God and the children of the marriage]. They are numerous [among the children of men, and are active both] in the things [of the world, and] the glories [of heaven].

In considering the possible interpretation my guesswork suggests, one must be mindful of two concepts: first is the 'movement and rest' found in the Gospel of Thomas. One must associate the 'movement' with the children of the marriage, and the 'rest' with the children of the bridal chamber. Second is the ease with which the bridegroom engenders offspring. That is to say that in a moment of ease (rest) the father passes on to his offspring all his abilities and skills, in fact, his complete nature (name), including ease.

Those [who are the children of the marriage] go down into the water. [The children of the bridal chamber are they who are lifted up from the baptism. Those who come up] out (of the water), will consecrate it, [they have received the form of rest, and contemplate the name of the father, and] they who have [contemplation do all things] in his name. For he said, "Thus we should fulfill all righteousness." (Mt 3:15) What, exactly, was Philip considering in the statement above? As in so many other sections of his treatise, he considered the actual mechanics of moving from the old man to the new. In other words, what were the road signs along the way? What were the tools specific to this task? Especially here, Philip also considered the examples given by Christ, himself.

Sometimes even we wonder about such things. Why would Jesus, of all people, need to be baptized? He was the son of God. Undeniably, there is much distance between those of our day and the baptism of Christ, but John, steeped in all that was actually there and taking place, and the whole baptism mind-set of that time, expressed the same concern.

Christ's answer, of course, was that we should do, all of us, the things that are right to do – all of them. We do not perform righteousness to get somewhere or to accomplish something. Righteousness is a way of thinking and living that not even the son of God may rise above. It is, in fact, the very object and goal of thinking and living. Christ sought baptism for the same reason he washed the feet of his disciples. Righteousness, holiness, divinity are, none of them, foreign to the human condition.

In this manner, Philip explained ascension from the children of the marriage into the children of the bridal chamber. He explained that even while the children of the bridal chamber find rest and contemplation, they work to produce, from mankind, the children of the marriage, and then guide them forward.

Divinity, holiness, and all righteousness are roadsigns for the children of the marriage.

They are also the tools specific to the service performed by those who have the wherewithal to guide the rest of us along the great highway of ascension.

The Lord said it well: "Some have entered the Kingdom of Heaven laughing, and they have come out [with great sorrow] because [they are not free of their old master, the world. There is still much love for the old master, which grieves the child of the marriage, and prevents him from becoming] a Christian, [and a child of the bridal chamber]. And as soon as [the child of the marriage] went down into the water, he came [out despising] everything (of this world), [and laughing] because he [may now see that the invisible is not] a trifle, but [the true life, and he is] full of contempt for this [shadow life. He now has great joy and power over this life, and is filled with love for the children of the marriage because he has been born into] the Kingdom of Heaven [through the water of renewal.] If he despises [this life], and scorns it as a trifle, [he comes] out laughing. So it is also with the bread and the cup and the oil, even though there is another one superior to these.

Philip painted a world of opposing ends, as have other writers of his caliber. His list: the bread, the cup, the oil, and the water, all are examples of concepts which have been divided into opposing ends. On the one hand, you have the inferior worldly image, and on the other hand, you have the superior reality of each, which is to be found on the spiritual plane.

Children of the marriage and children of the bridal chamber each find themselves in opposing camps inasmuch as they each belong exclusively to one side of the event they hold in common. Even within the concept of marriage, there are the opposing ends that are joined. In the worldly model, those poles are male and female, while the superior spiritual reality may most easily be visualized and explained through the inferior model of Christ the male bridegroom and the church as female bride.

Each model within Philip's list may thus be viewed with the same elements in their makeup. Each contains an event wherein opposites are joined into a higher state, and

each has a set of poles, with an opposite to either side of the event exclusively: one in transition toward the event, and one being the offspring or result of the event.

Perhaps, in a larger sense, both poles are actually one, as they both are aspects of the same event. Past and future are always joined by the reality of the present. That is an inferior worldly model. The superior spiritual reality, in the words of another inferior visualization, may be more like an individual who is being pushed from below and pulled from above. Each character in that play is only himself. There is a polarized self to each side of the event exclusively, but the event, the marriage of opposites, is always the present self.

A horse sires a horse, a man begets man, a god brings forth a god. Compare the bridegroom and the bride.

This statement falls in line with the previous elements concerning a common event wherein opposites are joined into a higher state that produces a representative of that higher state. To compare the bridegroom to the bride is to see just how very different (?) they are.

They have come from the [opposite ends of the Earth]. No Jew [without a Jewish father] has existed. And [gentiles are not born] from the Jews.

True to any union is the fact that the product, or offspring, represents the superior or dominant element. A Jewish man could marry a gentile woman and sire a Jew, but a Jewish woman, in marrying a gentile, would not be the defining or dominant influence of the type of offspring produced.

Philip went on to explore the relationship between the rightful heir and the father. Both Jews and Christians have claimed God as their father, but in our present case, there is an inferior image and a superior reality. Jews are the inferior image of the children of God, that is to say, they are what they are purely on a physical and national level. Philip pointed toward a higher concept, that of a child of God on a spiritual level. Still, the Jew and the Christian are opposite poles of a singular union from which the Christian emerges as the offspring of the bridal chamber.

[So it is with] Christians [, in whom is seen more of the father than the mother, and] these [new, spiritual Jews] are referred to as "The chosen people of [the Highest]," and "The true man" and "Son of Man" and "the seed of the Son of Man". This true race is renowned in the world [ throughout all the nations] that the sons of the bridal chamber dwell.

Philip did, in fact, exalt an ascended Jew, in whom all the telling marks of an heir were found on a level higher than mere physicality, or nationality. The ascended son was still a physical being with his feet firmly planted on the Earth, but the true man must be seen as more the son of his father because he is modeled after the image of the spiritual son, Jesus. The Christian is the new, spiritual Jew. He is the chosen; he is the seed of the spiritual.

Speaking of the true man, how is a false world to deal with him. He obviously flies in the face of tradition, and poses a real threat to all power and personal advantage built upon tradition. Naturally, they would detain him if they could.

However, in order to even recognize a spiritual being, one must do so spiritually. One may not lay hold on a person of light until he, himself, has put on light. At that point, though, he may no longer wish to detain him. Christians, be encouraged. All other detention is only argument, for it is, as Philip indicated, on a level below the light.

Not only will they be unable to detain the perfect man, but they will not be able to see him, for if they see him, they will detain him. There is no other way for a person to acquire this quality except by putting on the perfect light and he too becoming perfect light.

One may see, in the first sentence of this section, how the Pharisees and Sadducees rigorously sought to remove Jesus, but until it was the time of his choosing, their attempts met with failure only. He operated from a level higher than theirs. Had they, in their attempts, armed themselves with that higher level, they would have understood him. By that same understanding, they would have known their own wrongdoing.

He who has put it on will enter [the perfect light]. This is the perfect [union in] that we [who are worldly in all things should] become [spiritual in all things] before we leave [the world]. Whoever receives everything [of the spirit cannot return] hither [to this low estate and] be able [to remain in] that place, but will [wander] the Middle as imperfect.

Only Jesus knows the end of this person.

To arm oneself with that higher level is, in fact, that union of opposites which Philip iterated. Whereas Jesus represents the higher level of man, the Pharisees and Sadducees represent the lower level of man. Yet, these opposites are one in the union that produces the higher man.

Philip laid no blame on the lower man; what he saw as evil is for man to use what lifts men up as weapons to beat men down.

He who has knowledge of the truth is a free man, Philip unfolded a fundamental concept. Doubtless, people of his time no less than people of our time have misappropriated and abused the concept, else, he would not have brought it up. In my own day and age, I note individuals who take a superior stance in trotting out facts and figures. There is a real difference between knowledge of the truth, and mere facts and figures. Within that framework, it is obvious that one pundit is free and the other is not.

Is there a test by which the validity of such a statement may be judged? Yes, and Philip's work provides it for our convenience. Simply put, it is this: but the free man does not sin,

One of our two pundits is free, but the other is not. If the one who is free does not sin, the one who is not free still wallows in sin. In this regard, it seems more likely that the free individual possesses the truth. The one who is not free possesses only measurements of the physical universe.

Now, the man who only has measurements may compare himself to the man who actually possesses truth, and defensively declare that he too holds the truth. I have heard them trot out their facts and figures quite defiantly, and with the pretense of superiority, declare themselves as sole possessors of the truth.

In such a declaration, there is the stand they take, and the position against which they contrast themselves. Most frequently, that position is seen to be the faith of believers.

The possessors of facts and figures claim that the faithful believe in foolish nonsense and fairy tales. One might produce a sizable list of the claims made against the faithful by the possessors of facts and figures in defense of their stand.

One might further provide a list of the self-aggrandizements with which the possessors of facts and figures justify themselves: items such as non-violence, cultural tolerance, the live and let live attitude, individual autonomy, etc. Such are used to set the possessors of facts and figures apart from relationships with the faithful, and the responsibilities that go along with such relationships. It is a message to the rest of us that goes like this: “you may not tell me anything�.

At the very core of this rift is a rebellion against faith. Those with faith believe in a thing called sin. They see it as an impediment most adequately overcome by the possession of truth rather than facts and figures.

As for the possessors of facts and figures, their so-called truth includes concepts that work contrary to discernment and judgment. Their much loved autonomy, and their live and let live attitude, provide them with no tools to discern sin, and no weapons to fight it. Their only shield is a shield against people who would argue that they need tools and weapons, that they need a truth that includes faith, higher purpose, and direction (away from bondage). for "He who sins is the slave of sin" (John 8:34).

Truth is the mother, knowledge the father.

Philip, here, set forth a simple statement that must be scrutinized with care. It is all too easy to be led astray by the simplicity of this statement. Let us take a moment to look more closely. We look at 'father' and 'mother' and cannot help but see the offspring as well. Now, who are the offspring left with? Certainly not the father. The father goes his way and the mother is left to suckle the young.

If any of the young reject the nourishment of the mother, they become, as some might say, the runts of the litter. They will remain in that diminished state so long as they

refuse to be suckled. All the while, their nourished brothers and sisters argue that they need more than facts and figures. All the while these runts hold themselves aloof and adamant in their self-induced limitations.

Philip had them pretty well pegged. Here is his assessment of those who don't believe in foolish nonsense and fairy tales: Those who think that sinning does not apply to them are called "free" by the world.

Knowledge of the truth merely makes such people arrogant, which is what the words, "it makes them free" mean. It even gives them a sense of superiority over the whole world.

Philip exposed the runts of the litter. They began with everything their brothers and sisters began with, but they rejected the mother. Philip here returns to the mother, to truth, to faith, to higher purpose and direction. Those who have suckled at the breast of truth take more from knowledge than mere facts and figures. These healthy siblings stand tall enough to see over the wall, whereas the runts, in all their hopping about, will not allow their brothers and sisters to lift them up.

But "Love builds up" (1 Co 8:1). In fact, he who is really free, through knowledge, is a slave, because of love for those who have not yet been able to attain to the freedom of knowledge.

Imagine a man who has access to a ladder, but never employs it. Imagine the slain warrior that drew his sword, but never used it. Imagine that same warrior wounded unto death, and yet, his shield lies beside his cold corpse – without a scratch. Some people see knowledge as an end in itself, but that is not what it is. It is the sword that must be swung, the shield that must be held before you. It is the ladder of a faithful brother lifting one up that will at last allow one to see over the wall.

Knowledge is not truth, but it is able to bring one to the truth. One must first accept truth. One may load himself with facts and figures, but rather than freedom, one is only weighed down. As Philip's words assert: Knowledge makes them capable of becoming free.

The hungry student is slave to the school, but the teacher freely gives. What the teacher freely gives, all possess.

Love never calls something its own, [for it realizes that] it [cannot] possess [and also be free]. It never says,"This is yours" or "This is mine," but "All these are yours".

It's all about the possibilities.

Spiritual love is wine and fragrance.

Why make such a statement as 'spiritual love'? Isn't the nature of love spiritual? Well, that really depends on who you ask. The runts do not believe that it is. For them, love is something fashioned after themselves: autonomous, liberal, live and let live. It is a thing many relegate to the realm of emotion.

Those who can see over the wall are aware of so much more. Love is not a thing relegated to the realm of emotion, but rather to the realm of truth, higher purpose, direction. Whereas love is the hungry student, spiritual love is the teacher set free. There is a teacher in every student.

And, why did Philip associate spiritual love with wine and fragrance? Quite simply, because wine and fragrance, by their very nature, are items that connect individuals: All those who anoint themselves with it take pleasure in it. While those who are anointed are present, those nearby also profit (from the fragrance). If those anointed with ointment withdraw from them and leave, then those not anointed, who merely stand nearby, still remain in their bad odor.

Of course, all that was long before the day of mass produced personal deodorant. Smelly wasn't cheap back in the day, but as ages go, its malodorous nature was honest and up front. You might not be able to tell if I miss the occasional shower, but you could certainly not miss the fact back then.

In the same manner as the absence of fragrance, one may discern evil by the absence of righteousness, or bad by the absence of good. One may, by variants of this test, discern all that is wrong or lacking in this world. One may also test the truth in our brothers and sisters, for truth is like a fragrance. Just hide that fragrance, and we will all know who stinks.

The Samaritan gave nothing but wine and oil to the wounded man. It is nothing other than the ointment. It healed the wounds, for "love covers a multitude of sins" (1 P 4:8).

The same items used to dress the wounds of the man left for dead are also ingredients of the Holy anointing, or Chrism. Everything that speaks of ascendancy, whether it be sacraments, sacrifice, healing, or truth, also speaks of love and faith – neither of which may be found in measurements of the physical universe.

In my studies, I have employed the phrase: 'universal spiritual mechanics'. Like myself, Philip is keenly interested in how things work. Philip and I both are on the same path.

Both of us make sense of the spiritual by comparison to the corporeal.

It is explained in Romans 1:20 that “the invisible things of him from the creation of the world are clearly seen, being understood by the things that are made�.

Philip turns to farming to explain, by comparison, certain spiritual mechanics presently at work. As on the farm, a harvest is brought about by the timely interactions of four essential elements, a spiritual harvest, by comparison, is brought about by the timely interactions of four similar, but spiritual elements. Then, Grace is added to the list: Earth, Faith, Earth born.

Water, Hope, Heavenly.

Wind, Love, of the highest Heaven.

Light, Knowledge, Understanding.

Farming in the world requires the cooperation of four essential elements. A harvest is gathered into the barn only as a result of the natural action of water, earth, wind and light.

In his attempts to sleuth out how certain spiritual matters are accomplished, Philip employs comparison to certain worldly matters. This is no primitive undertaking; we do it the same way. Philip compares worldly farming to the farming of God, and by extension, Philip compares the worldly harvest to the spiritual harvest.

While we are considering such concepts, we must also recall certain concomitant concepts, and apply them appropriately. I speak of such things as the 'barn' within which the harvest will be placed, also such matters as who and what the field and planted seed are. All of these go together.

The scenario is that, first of all, there is a farmer. The farmer is not only the planter of the seed, but is also the owner of the seed. Similarly, the farmer owns the field in which the seed is sown, and the barn in which the harvest will be stored. The existence of a harvest is a thing that suits the purpose of the farmer rather than the purpose of the seed, and I say that in preparation of dealing with the concept of God as a farmer, and we as the seed, field, and/or harvest.

Biblically, we have been compared to a harvest of wheat. Considering Jesus as the spiritual seed, we turn a keen eye to the head of the wheat, and find that each grain is practically identical to the seed which was planted. Now, if you should be bright enough to ask where the farmer gets his seeds from – it will dawn on you that the most obvious source of seeds is the previous harvest.

The worldly farmer, has a plan. Through his hard labor, he clears the field, plants his seeds, weeds, hoes, and watches over his anticipated harvest. At the right time, he collects his long awaited prize into storage. That storage has two purposes. The most obvious purpose is that he will re-plant his fields next season, but the greater and more fundamental purpose for a harvest is this: it is the food with which the farmer sustains himself.

God's farming likewise has four elements - faith, hope, love, and knowledge. Faith is our earth, that in which we take root. And hope is the water through which we are nourished. Love is the wind through which we grow. Knowledge, then, is the light through which we ripen.

After we develop, we are harvested. The whole plant is not taken, just the part that sustains the farmer. The other parts are rooted out and destroyed. Many plants in the field look around and complain about the needless destruction of other plants: war, famine, disease, injustice, etc. Let's examine the nature of a field.

The field is where the seed is planted, and where the harvest develops. The farmer, naturally, will tend and protect what he owns, but be sure, the crow will get his part. The plant is nourished in the field, but sometimes the elements that nourish it become storms of great devastation. In fact, there are a great number of things that might adversely affect the harvest. Whatever is left is what the farmer collects into his barn.

Also, the farmer constantly struggles against weeds. Growing among the food that will eventually sustain the farmer, are plants of no possible nutritional value. The problem is that while the plants are immature, they and the weeds look a lot alike. You know, it only takes a few bad individuals to turn things upside down. They get all chesty and make outrageous claims like: I too am wheat, and, there is no proof the farmer exists.

In the end, however, the farmer steps in and takes the part he wants. The remainder is destroyed. The barn is filled, and the farmer is fed until the next planting season. Now, the wheat wannabes may claim that there is only the field, and that the field is what the weeds make of it, while the wheat may mistakenly assume the harvest is about life and death, but the fact that is most relevant to this issue is that God is a spiritual farmer. The harvest that will sustain him is a spiritual harvest.

Grace exists in four ways: it is earthborn; it is heavenly; [it is of] the highest heaven; [and, it is through understanding that the harvest of wisdom is placed ] in [the storehouse of God].

There was a householder who had every conceivable thing, be it son or slave or cattle or dog or pig or corn or barley or chaff or grass or [bone] or meat and acorn. Now he was a sensible fellow, and he knew what the food of each one was.

More comparison here from Philip. Please note the layers and levels within this account.

The primary level is that of an ordinary physical man in the maintenance of everyday life. He maintains what is his in a thoughtful and responsible manner.

The next higher level is the disciple to whom is given responsibility over the various humans that come within the sphere of his influence. He is responsible to maintain them with the same spiritual communication he received – if they will receive it. If they are unable to receive it, then he is responsible to provide for them according to their current level.

By extension, the next higher level is that of the Holy Spirit, and the communications of God. God communicates only what will be received. In other words, no individual can receive a spiritual communication until he has reached a personal level that is capable of receiving such communications. At all lower human levels such communications are inaccessible.

The sensible householder is no newbie. He knows all those in his care intimately. He has had long experience with each of them. Experience tells him what each is able to

receive. He knows, for instance (and we know the same fact), that a dog is able to chew and digest bones – that is why we don't give them to our children.

Each animal in Philip's explanation, whether human, porcine, canine, or bovine, is representative of a particular level of human spirituality. Each commodity is, likewise, symbolic of what each animal thrives on. Each symbol is carefully chosen to illuminate a particular fact, which we will see presently. For the moment, note the successful maintenance of the householder's house: He served the children bread [and meat].

He served the slaves [corn] and meal.

And he threw barley and chaff and grass to the cattle.

He threw bones to the dogs, and to the pigs he threw acorns and slop.

Philip brought all this up for a reason. The true nature of the true disciple had been called into question. It is the same to this very day. Some will think of Christians as ineffectual do-gooders, while others will peg them as hypocrites with dark agendas.

They will say to the Christian that he can't smoke, drink, have sex, etc. They will tell him he is not really a Christian if he does or does not say or do a particular thing that is held in the non-believer's preconception of what a believer is. I have most often heard such complaints against the Christians when non-Christians want something and are told no.

According to Philip, the true nature of the true disciple is a continuation of the nature of God which is found in God's communications to mankind. Recall, if you will, that God communicates only what will be received. The dog is drawn to blood, and will eat the meat from the table, but God says no. Likewise, the disciple says no. The swine will eat anything, it does not care, and has no skill with discrimination. By that same token, God/the disciple/ the householder will give it slop and acorns, since it doesn't care.

Philip pointed to the nature of the disciple's communication as the hallmark of his discipleship. The practice of his discipleship calls certain disciplines into play, the most fundamental of which is the identification of each individual's inner nature. Based on that identification, the disciple is then prepared to practice the communication of God: which is to give to each what each is prepared to receive.

Compare the disciple of God: if he is a sensible fellow, he understands what discipleship is all about. The bodily forms will not deceive him, but he will look at the condition of the soul of each one and speak with him.

There are many people out there, many voices, each leveling its own claim or complaint.

The fool walks among the wise, but the wise are not fooled. Philip's comparisons to

certain animals smacks of discrimination and prejudice, but I remind the reader that the dark connotations attached to these words are not the true nature of the words.

These words became associated with certain individuals and groups who were, to put it simply, wrong in their thoughts and actions. Long before the connotations, the nature of discrimination and prejudice was held to be necessary and fundamental. That is still true, despite the dark connotations.

When a man chooses to drink clean water rather than foul, that is discrimination. That holds true for the bulk of our everyday choices: we choose what is good, clean, wholesome, effective, etc. When a man moves his family to a safe neighborhood, that is prejudice, as is cleaning one's community of pornography, or monitoring the proximity of sex offenders to the school one's children attend.

Make no mistake, discrimination and prejudice are, in and of themselves, necessary attributes of good decision making. The following comparisons of men to animals should, therefore, bear no dark connotations, for these types of people are real, and are easily identified through such representations.

There are many animals in the world which are in a human form. When he identifies them, to the swine he will throw acorns, This type of man does not practice discrimination or prejudice. He views those who do practice such things as wrong and bad. This type of man receives and is sustained by almost anything of immediate use. Anything consumable that falls into a pig pen is greedily devoured. It could be good food, slop, dead pigs, or human bodies. Also, along with whatever falls into the pen, the pigs will devour a certain amount of their own wallow and refuse. The slop and acorns are symbolic of essential physical maintenance. to the cattle he will throw barley and chaff and grass, This type of man will allow others to make his decisions for him. He is the follower; he is the mob. He is the greater population swallowing what the establishment feeds him.

His opinions are those of the authorities, or those of his peers. He is not one for personal involvement in causes, and will readily vote for something that is accomplished by others. He is easily pacified, grazing the ample fields of bars, discos, sporting events, and video games, represented by the grass, chaff, and barley. to the dogs he will throw bones.

The nature of this type is easily seen in the symbol of the bone. Marrow is found in the bone, which denotes blood. This type of man is passionate, lustful, aggressive, violent, and dangerous. He takes what he wants when the opportunity presents itself. Aside from the marrow, the bone is often used to symbolize death, corruption, and the grave. This type will steal the meat from the table, but will in no wise see it as elevated, or enjoin it

in any way that is better or different from the bone. In other words, the elevated quality of the meat is reduced to the standard of the bone – just something else to gnaw on.

To the slaves he will give only the elementary lessons, The slaves are those who serve. They recognize the higher nature of what they are given, and, whereas the dog might happily receive a bone from a total stranger, the servant will recognize the master as the preferable source of choice, indicating degrees of prejudice and discrimination more refined than that of the dog. The slave holds his passions in check for a greater cause, and is closer to the householder than the other possessions of the master, often being the one entrusted to feed the dogs, cattle, and swine. While the slave enjoys a closer proximity to the master through his serviceability, he may also be called upon to attend the master's heirs. to the children he will give the complete instruction.

The sensible householder has put everything in its proper place. Of all the listed animals in human form (that is: in the form of the master) only the master, the children, and the slaves serve any purpose other than strictly personal. Only these three may be found inside the master's house. While the slave is content with his corner, meager provision, and work, it is the children of the householder who receive the best of the master. The children, being born with the traits and characteristics of the master, are fed the meat from the master's own plate. They are provided those things which are in preparation of their eventual rise to the position of new master.

When Abraham [believed God, and understood] that he was to see what he was to see, he circumcised the flesh of the foreskin, teaching us that it is proper to destroy the flesh.

Lessons in corporeality. One initially wonders why Philip would bring up such a trivial point of ancient history. Well, first of all, it is anything but trivial. To this very day, circumcision is a personal token of identity. It identifies certain men as being of the lineage of Abraham, and therefore, as inheritors of the covenant that God made with Abraham and his descendants.

More importantly, however, Philip is showing us the mind of someone at the point where faith and spirituality place him above his physical identity. We ask, therefore, what exactly did God require of Abraham?

We have heard stories of certain individuals who, in an emergency, were forced to hack off a crushed limb in order to free themselves and survive. We can certainly understand such drastic actions, and can imagine ourselves doing the same thing in similar circumstances. We also realize that, like ourselves, these other individuals would never otherwise have cut themselves.

Abraham was called upon to endure circumcision. We men feel less squeamish when contemplating the circumcision of infants a mere eight days old. When our thoughts

approach the circumcision of a grown man, 'ouch' is the word that comes to mind. It takes a powerful motivation to compel a man to even consider doing such a thing, and Abraham had ninety-nine years worth of personal attachment and fondness for the member in question.

It is a lesson in spiritual empowerment over one's corporeal nature. In the account, at first, Abraham does not believe. He even laughs at the notion of he and his wife having children at their age. Certainly, it will take more than the words of a man to cause an older, wiser, and more experienced man to believe strongly enough to pursue such a course. While at first Abraham did not believe, he did come to that point of belief within the time frame of the encounter.

Perhaps it was in the nature of the Godly departure – a feat that implied unimaginable power.

Genesis 17:22 “And he left off talking with him, and God went up from Abraham”.

Think about it. What would it take to convince you? So, Abraham believed and acted.

Does the conclusion of Philip necessarily follow? Does Philip infer that we should cut ourselves? Snipping off a little skin, although it strains the imagination, is a far cry from destroying the flesh.

Let us not be too literal here. Perhaps Philip meant that we should seek the spiritual empowerment that Abraham's faith provided him. Such empowerment over the body is seen in acts more demanding than circumcision: consider, for example, Jesus walking on the water. The disciple Peter was a common enough man, and such empowerment of the mind caused him to stand on the same sea with Christ – for a moment anyway, until corporeal thinking kicked back in.

Most things in the world, as long as their inner parts are hidden, stand upright and live.

Above, I listed an encounter that the patriarch Abraham had with God. It was an agreement between God and man in which both sides of the agreement were clearly set forth. The expectations that God placed on Abraham and his descendents were spelled out in no uncertain terms. One stipulation that came up more than once was that both Abraham and his descendents should be 'upright'.

Let us take a moment to examine the word. Some synonyms for 'upright' are: decent, ethical, honest, honorable, just, moral, right-minded, straight, true, good, and virtuous.

As we understand it, such language – that which speaks of the spirit – was at first a language that spoke solely of the physical condition. Therefore, the word came from a root meaning that set apart men who walked upright from a more savage and animalistic breed.

The meaning implied that walking upright was the thing that set one apart, and made one proper. This is achieved by allowing the bone structure (one's core element) to bear the

full load. Such thinking also set apart the upright from those who were burdened (slaves and workers), and it also indicated youth, vitality, and strength, as opposed to infirmity and old age. Just to be alive and well could be considered physically upright (on one's feet, rather than on one's back).

According to Philip, one is alive and well, and upright, so long as all the vital organs remain in their proper places. The internal organs function on the inside, hidden from view, supported by the core element, and protected by an outer layer. Obviously, to be inside-out is a very bad thing that rarely ends well.

If they are revealed, they die, as is illustrated by the visible man: as long as the intestines of the man are hidden, the man is alive; when his intestines are exposed and come out of him, the man will die.

Philip makes a very clear analogy. He goes on to support his first analogy with a second comparison, one that lends more to the spiritual nature of his discussion. Consider that the nature of an individual's personality and character are always hidden. We easily see the outward manifestations (the effect), but find it much more difficult to determine the inner clockwork (the root or the cause).

So also with the tree: while its root is hidden, it sprouts and grows. If its root is exposed, the tree dries up.

Philip laid out the proper groundwork. Things are hidden and internalized for a very real and necessary reason: protection. While a thing is secure, it may flourish. While it has protection, it may function undisturbed. This we know, that the gears of a clock work best when they are inside the clock. We recognize the whole clock by the exterior, but when we pull out the inner works and set them beside the case, the clock ceases to be.

In contrast, when we consider that darkness is destroyed when light is revealed, we must then consider that light is the internal working of darkness. In Biblical wording, God brought forth light from darkness, and said, “Let there be light”. John said of Jesus (an example of the inner light of God within a man): “The light shone in darkness, but the darkness would not recognize it. That was the true light, which lights every man that comes into the world. He came to his own, and was not received.”

So it is with every birth that is in the world, not only with the revealed (physical) but with the hidden (spiritual).

Everything that is physical has an inner working hidden within. Everything that is spiritual has an inner working that has its root either in the positive or the negative. Also, everything that is physical has a hidden spiritual root. When the one is revealed the opposite of it becomes the case. Pull out the life and lay it beside the body it animates, and death becomes the case. Remove the death and life becomes the case.

For so long as the root of wickedness is hidden, it (wickedness) is strong. But when it is recognized, it is dissolved. When it is revealed, it perishes.

We may easily recognize the whole evil thing by its outward manifestation, but once those protected inner workings are laid out, the whole thing ceases to be what it was.

When the working evil is revealed, it ceases to function, which in turn changes the outward manifestation.

That is why the Word says, "Already the ax is laid at the root of the trees" (Mt 3:10).

The Bible says a lot about trees and roots, including Philip's quote above. It also says that a tree is known by its fruit (it is recognized by its outward manifestation). Fruit speaks only of the physical world: what we recognize, deal with, partake of, use; it is a mirror image of the spiritual root, which is based either in the positive or the negative.

You can cut the fruit from the tree, but more fruit will take its place. You can cut down the tree, but the tree will continue to grow as long as the roots are functional – and of course, the fruit will be the same. To get a different fruit, you must totally root out the old tree, plant a new tree, and this time be sure the roots are what you want – then the fruit will be to your liking.

It will not merely cut - what is cut sprouts again - but the ax penetrates deeply, until it brings up the root.

Jesus is an example of change that is set apart from other examples of change. What is the difference between the two? Those who only make partial, or cosmetic, change see only the outward manifestation. “The light shone in darkness, but the darkness would not recognize it”. They lack the faith of Abraham, which is the faith needed to go the distance, to do what is necessary.

Jesus does what is needful, while the world that will not recognize him sits and complains. They bemoan a body count, but totally miss the true spiritual issue at stake.

Any actions they may take will miss the mark.

Jesus pulled out the root of the whole place, while others did it only partially.

Philip recommends what uprightness, itself, demands: strength of character. Philip recommends what God has been recommending all along: recognize the light of the world: Jesus. Not just the Jesus of history, we are to recognize the Jesus inside each one of us. We must get all Abrahamic and lay the ax to our own roots of evil. Jesus is that ax (two-edged sword).

Death must die, for where death ends, life begins. Darkness must perish, for where darkness ends, light begins.

As for ourselves, let each one of us dig down after the root of evil which is within one, and let one pluck it out of one's heart from the root. It will be plucked out if we recognize it.

Ignorance must dissolve, for where ignorance ends, enlightenment begins.

But if we are ignorant of it, it takes root in us and produces its fruit in our heart. It masters us. We are its slaves. It takes us captive, to make us do what we do not want; and what we do want, we do not do.

We can do little to effect real change so long as we refuse to recognize anything more than the outward manifestation. Those who will only recognize a measurable universe, those who will only accept facts and figures, remain enslaved to the evil rooted within.

It is powerful because we have not recognized it. While it exists it is active.

Many more people, these days, actually brag about their ignorance. They boast themselves of their rejection of spirituality. They call their darkness light, and they call the true light darkness. Deliberately, they make of themselves the opposite of all that Jesus is: son of man, son of God, the light, the truth, the way. Ignorance is anti-Christ, and the enslaved are anti-Christ.

Philip ends his discussion with a rather bold assertion. The worldly will argue that they are, they have been, and will be, but – that speaks only of the outward manifestations of those who will not recognize the true light within the darkness. They have failed miserably at the inner man, and have for their compensation only the outer man. That is what they choose, but their choice is the opposite of the inner man. Since it is Christ (the inner man) who is, and was, and is to come, Philip's assertion remains upright.

Ignorance is the mother of all evil. Ignorance will result in death, because those who come from ignorance neither were nor are nor shall be.

Philip deepens his explanation. Man, and thus mankind, must recognize the whole man, not the outward man with his inward truth removed: as we have seen, that limitation leads to death. To acknowledge the truth of the inner man (Jesus) by no means disavows the truth of the outer man, yet, one is not whole without both.

What is a man without his personality? What is a man without his character? What is a man, I ask, without his mind? What is the body without the spirit? The body may, indeed, exist apart from the spirit, but existence does not qualify as life. How can there be a son of man without an inner Jesus? Man has to recognize the synthesis of the two.

[The future man] will be perfect (whole) when all (not just half) the truth is revealed.

Truth, or for our purposes here: the mutual inclusion of corporeality and spirituality, is a higher reality. People like the daylight; they can see where they are going as they are comforted by its warmth. But, when it comes time to sleep, they want the lights out.

While the darkness may be a comfortable prerequisite to sleep, when the light is revealed, it is preferred.

Likewise, the revelation of the inner light is praiseworthy, for as I have already stated, where death ends, life begins. Where limitation ends, wholeness begins. Where mutual exclusion ends, mutual inclusion begins. Where limited man ends, Jesus begins.

For truth is like ignorance: while it is hidden, it rests in itself, but when it is revealed and is recognized, it is praised, inasmuch as it is stronger than ignorance and error. It gives freedom. The Word said, "If you know the truth, the truth will make you free" (John 8:32).

There is a good reason why Jesus has so many names. It is the connection between physical and spiritual. Jesus is the inner man, he is also the truth. He is, therefore, our inner truth. The truth of an acorn is the oak tree. The truth of a single man is what he will become. The truth of mankind is what mankind will become. Know this, the shell of an acorn will not grow.

Ignorance is a slave. Knowledge is freedom. If we know the truth, we shall find the fruits of the truth within us. If we are joined to it, it will bring our fulfillment.

Now, Philip asks the reader to see everything that is obvious compared to everything that is less than evident. We are beings grounded in the evident world. To see is to believe.

At the present time, we have the manifest things of creation.

He engages our attention with comparisons. There are the strong and the weak. There are the high and the low. There are the hidden and the revealed. He begins with the obvious.

We say, "The strong who are held in high regard are great people. And the weak who are despised are the obscure."

He points out the way in which our minds make natural distinctions between the high end and the low end. Similarly, we would place gold on the high end and wood on the low end. The wood is the more abundant and useful; we don't build our homes from gold, after all. Our distinctions in the evident world are just that way, but take one step up and make similar comparisons! We see the point of transition where things turn around.

Contrast the manifest things of truth: they are weak and despised, while the hidden things are strong and held in high regard.

What does he mean? As we advance from the most obvious things in our world to the least obvious things in our world, we reach a half-way point where the least obvious things may not only be compared to the most obvious things, but also to things which may only be guessed at. The things that are hidden from us are the things that can make a man great or powerful.

Those same truths, in their manifest forms, only point in that direction. If God or an

angel appears to a man, bringing truth, that appearance will be with power. The man will revere and respect based on the level of the impression made. Another man, bearing the same truth, will not impress. The manifest forms of greatness seem like cheap copies.

The mysteries of truth are revealed, though in type and image. The bridal chamber, however, remains hidden. It is the Holy in the Holy.

What can possibly be determined from a phrase like 'Holy in the Holy'? Today, most folk are too far removed from such a thought. All they can determine is that is has something to do with God. In reality, 'Holy' is not such a difficult concept. It is, in actuality, anything that one especially reveres. If something is special to you, above and beyond all else, you can call it holy. This can be seen in certain phrases like: 'the best of the best', or, 'Jesus puts the you in truth'.

Those things, in our evident world, that we think of as truths, are really no more than the physical manifestations of those truths: spoken words, or, acts our flesh may perform. If it is something our eyes see and our ears hear, it is only a type or an image. There is a definite point where reality is separated from our corporeal concept of reality. That division between the real and the image of the real is explained by the veil.

On one side is power, on the other side is weakness. On one side is truth, on the other side is only the physical creation. On one side is the word, on the other side the mere conveyance of the word. All that is high up, or powerful, is hidden from us on the far side of the divide. For it to exist on this side, it is limited to a cheap copy – and I say that because it is the mind on this side of the divide that has determined its place and relevance.

The number 9 is pretty high up on the list of numbers, and may belittle the number 5 – that is, until the number 10 is revealed, and is seen to embrace the number 5. Philip puts it this way: The veil at first concealed how God controlled the creation, but when the veil is rent and the things inside are revealed, this house will be left desolate, or rather will be destroyed.

Or put another way, everything that is revered in our evident world will take a step down. Like many other people, I have not previously considered a comparison between the superior Godhead, and an inferior godhead. I didn't know one existed. I guess the inferior godhead is, simply, the most revered thing on this side of the divide.

Where can the inferior go when the superior is revealed? The 9 that would not be divided by the 5 must, when the 10 is revealed, be seen with the 3 – and both below the newly elevated 5. Philip says this:

And the whole (inferior) godhead will flee from here, but not into the holies of the holies, for it will not be able to mix with the unmixed light and the flawless fullness, but will be under the wings of the cross and under its arms.

When an end came to World War II, many Germans took Jewish names, mingled with the Jews, and fled to America for salvation. Whenever an old order is destroyed and replaced by the new, a kind of shuffling takes place. Like a game of musical chairs, the remaining participants vie for one of a limited number of seats. To continue to exist, you take whatever helping hand is thrust in your direction, like free wild animals in an enclosed ark.

This ark will be their salvation when the flood of water surges over them.

But that is the direction of settling; what about the opposite direction? We see a small number going in that direction, only a select few. Noah took only his wife and kids with him. Some are permitted entry beyond the veil, but they are the ones who have prepared for it.

If some belong to the order of the priesthood, they will be able to go within the veil with the high priest.

Touching on the veil, Philip considers physical man's point of entry into things hidden.

That point of divide is where the corporeal transitions into the spiritual. It is where man without God may step through to man with God, or, God-filled man. That point is the sacrifice of the man-only. When Christ died on the cross, the veil covering the Holy of Holies was ripped in two from the top to the bottom. There was access beyond the divide made possible by giving up the man-only. The 10 was revealed.

A shuffling began at that point. The inferior godhead was in flight. Its place could only be below the cross, but there are others spoken of, and a comparison of directions toward the upper individuals and the lower individuals. Who were they?

For this reason, the veil was not rent at the top only, since it would have been open only to those above; nor was it rent at the bottom only, since it would have been revealed only to those below.

But it was rent from the top to (a direction) bottom.

In comparing the upper to the lower individuals, it cannot be missed that Philip uses the word 'us' in the place that is opposite of 'above'. It is not the worldly, in that those above are the strong and held in high regard, they've been chased away by the revelation. It is the once obscure and despised 5 that now leads us toward the revealed 10.

Those above opened to us the things below, in order that we may go in to the secret of

the truth. This truly is what is held in high regard, (and) what is strong!

So, we see the lowly types here; we see the forms of weakness. We see churches and weekly meetings. We see the beginnings of entry into the hidden things of truth. It is like the first grade in the school of truth. What goads some of us is that the first grade repeats and repeats, and no one seems concerned with graduating to the second grade.

But we shall go in there by means of lowly types and forms of weakness.

To those of us who have inhabited the first grade, the second grade seems impossibly high up. There seems to be a limited amount of choices before us. We can remain in the first grade, we can drop out, or we can struggle in solitary abandon to reach the second grade. All three: the first grader, the drop out, and the rogue struggler, when compared to the second grader, are seen to be short of the mark.

They are lowly indeed when compared with the perfect glory.

The first grade goes round and round: that is the teacher's fault. The teacher, after all, is a first grader himself, and only promotes first – graded – ness. The drop out is filled with hate for the first grade, and blames all woes on the first grade. The drop out is predisposed to see no warrant for a inclination toward the second grade. Presently, it is only the rare, lone individual who is prone to place himself between a rock and a hard place. So, forget about the college student. That is so far beyond our reach as to seem angelic or God-like.

There is glory which surpasses glory.

Everyone that is above us, including the humble second grader, seems empowered beyond our level. Let us examine empowerment. The second grader may have learned the primary strategy of chess. He is able to wow the first grader because the first grader is basically clueless. However, a third grader would have advanced learning that would render the second grader a rank newbie.

There is power which surpasses power.

If beating the second grader in a game of chess was the key that opened the door into the second grade, the first grader would seem hopelessly locked out. The drop out would despise the key as merely a dumb game. The rogue struggler is the only one to explore such an avenue. As I have noted in previous studies, this avenue is only open to those who are open to such an avenue. It is the second grader who steps in on the behalf of the rogue, because he was once a rogue himself. He says: here, let me show you a little trick that might help you in your next match. The rogue practices, goes back for the next match, and finally wins the game.

Therefore, the perfect (complete) things have opened to us, together with the hidden things of truth.

For the individual who sees something worth pursuing, there are seekers who have gone before. They can help. Like peddlers of puzzle pieces, they have scampered along ahead of us dropping the odd piece that will make the big picture more accessible. The second grader helps the first grader find and unlock the door into the second grade. There is a point of transition for the first grader where the realized goal becomes the first step in a new quest for a higher goal.

The holies of the holies were revealed, and the bridal chamber invited us in.

Differences Now, we come to the material I have set aside under the label above. Herein, Philip speaks of matters in a way that suggests he is dealing with the differences between opposites. Case in point: the difference between creating and begetting. There may be a fine point, as we say, that is wasted on many of us, but Philip seems keen to explore such avenues of thought.

In consideration of Philip's musings, we must be mindful that we travel a road Philip has already been down. If he should call back that the road is flat, or the shoulder is precipitous, we must conduct ourselves based on his soundings. While to many, Philip may seem simplistic, crude, or boring, the seeker must be aware that musings on the difference between 1 and 2 may actually be musings on the difference between singularity and divergence.

We, as fellow seekers on the same road as Philip, understand that no less than ourselves, Philip received and filtered communications from the mind of God. Spiritual communications of this magnitude may come at any point, at any time, and to any individual. So, we follow Philip, an explorer of fine points, as he calls this back: There is the Son of Man and there is the son of the Son of Man. A fine point, indeed. Most people don't use the expression, even though they may be aware of it. To them, it is simply the way certain people talked a long time ago. We, on the other hand, are inclined to look past the human agency of conveyance to the message itself. Philip goes on to explain what is entailed in the difference between the two.

The Lord is the Son of Man, and the son of the Son of Man is he who creates through the Son of Man.

There you have it. An act of creation is the core and defining issue. If one brings about through a higher agency, through what agency does the higher agency bring about?

While both may be engaged in bringing about, there is a clear difference between the two creative acts which needs to be thoroughly thought out.

The Son of Man (the Lord) received from God the capacity to create.

Therefore, as Philip will later state, what the Lord creates is not an offspring but a creature. A son will inherit defining traits from the father. What he does not inherit, the father teaches him. Our notion of God, usually vague, is that he is the creator. He created the universe, he created good and evil, our world, us, etc. Now, on the issue of 'us', we were created in his image.

The son of man might create any one of us in his image, but that would make none of us his children. Rather, he calls us adopted brothers, for the image we become is the image of his thought and intent: that is, we know, believe and practice the same things toward the same ends. He calls us friends, in that we are in agreement, and on the same page.

The Lord received from the Lord the traits of a Lord. He received from his creator father the capacity of creation. Such consideration places the Lord on a level with God. The next statement Philip makes, in contrast, places the Lord on a level with created man. In other words, we see the Lord, and we see Jesus.

He also has the ability to beget.

Why does this place Jesus on our level? We beget our children physically: Jesus was born a man. As a man, he had the capacity both to create and to beget. As Jesus, he was the only begotten Lord, but before Jesus, when he was just the Lord on a level with God, he was a spiritual son begotten spiritually by a spiritual father. Philip explains: He who has received the ability to create is a creature.

There is the thing, and there is the nature of the thing. You and I are creatures; we were created, and thus, possess the capacity to create. However, if I create a figure of a man, or a manikin, or a robot, or an android, none of my creations have life or spirit. No matter how complicated my creations may be, they are just things; they end with themselves. However: He who has received the ability to beget is an offspring.

The son is not just a son, but a father in the making. The father of the son was once a son himself. Philip is working toward the difference between spirituality and corporeality, but he must first resolve a tricky issue. If we, as creatures, create through the son of man, we are not begetting. If we are sons and fellow heirs of the traits of Lordship, we are begotten. However, according to Philip, he who creates is a creature.

We are not trying to work out opposites so much as we are trying to join opposites into a synthesis. The son of the son of man creates through the son of man, and yet we know ourselves to be both begetters and begotten. We are sons and fathers on our physical

plane, therefore, our created creature-ship must be on an opposing plane. We are, then, both at once.

The son of man has received both the qualities of creation and begetting: he, too, must be viewed as being a dual entity where opposites co-exist. As the son of God, he was created and was, therefore, a creature. As the son of man, he was begotten and was, therefore, a son. Having inherited both the abilities to create and to beget, we must accede to the dual nature of God. We see that the reasoning is toward the opposites standing united in a synthesis, but still, there are real differences. Jesus said, in the canon, that what is born of the flesh is flesh, and what is born of the spirit is spirit. So, God created man in his image, but we were creatures, and could not be sons. In order to have sons, some sort of inverse action was required. It seems to be a law that binds even God: He who creates cannot beget.

But – fear not; where there is a will, there is a way: He who begets also has power to create.

A begotten son was required to complete the work. Being the image of the invisible God only is a thing that stands on the spiritual plane in opposition to man's being the physical image of God only.

According to the reasoning of Philip, if a man is to be a son of God, it must be accomplished in two steps. These are the same two steps that are seen as opposites, yet working in concord, throughout perceived existence: Yin/Yang, night/day, up/down, in/out, right/wrong, north/south, left foot/right foot, breathe in/breathe out, asleep/awake – the list goes on and on.

It appears that Philip is actually addressing an interpretation of 'being' that is selfdefeating: Now they say, "He who creates begets". But his so-called "offspring" is merely a creature.

As seekers of truth, it is impossible for us to approach the right answers, except by means of the right questions. Just as surely as one road leads to Houston and another road leads to Vail, the particular language of our thoughts will lead us in only one direction – unless we change that language.

Because of [the physical limitations, and cyclic nature] of birth, they are not his (God's) offspring but [physical copies of the image of the creator].

Philip ends his argument by comparing the spiritual to the physical.

The spiritual:

He who creates (Jesus) works openly, and he himself is visible. He (God) who begets, begets in private, and he himself is hidden, since [he has no] image.

The physical: Also, he (the man) who creates, creates openly. But one who begets, begets children in private.

Next, Philip addresses the difference between the general and the more specific. There is a kind of wisdom (simply wisdom), a common wisdom, if you will, that is spread abroad rather homogeneously. It rests upon a broad base, and there is nothing too specialized about it. It is accessible to most men, and therefore, may be wisdom in name only. It might be better named 'common knowledge', or even 'common sense'.

In contrast to this, there is a specialized wisdom (only this one is mentioned, but I suppose there are others) which comes from narrowing one's focus. That narrowing, or specialization, holds an importance none of us may deny. For example, if I needed brain surgery, I would naturally want a surgeon with years of specialized experience in that one field. I would consider him wise beyond the meager capacity of general surgery.

So, Philip says: Echamoth is one thing and Echmoth, another. Echamoth is Wisdom simply, but Echmoth is the Wisdom of death, which is the one who knows death, which is called "the little Wisdom".

I Take “little wisdom” to mean the narrow focus of a specialized field. And the “one who knows death” to be the specialist. I see him rather like the 'preacher' of Ecclesiastes: one so studied in his particular field that he sees “nothing new under the sun”. He is an expert. I am mindful, however, that Philip may also be personifying the spirit of the little wisdom. He does, in fact, personify the next 'wisdom'. If we take our clues from other texts, this particular wisdom may be the one that grew up with the son of God: sophia is her name.

As for the Wisdom who is called "the barren," she is the mother of the angels.

I have at my disposal no information on “the barren”, although I have searched. Still, however, I recall that it has been said of Sophia that 'her delight was with the sons of men'. The infertility of this wisdom, implied in her name: the barren, may be wholly due to the inability to produce flesh and blood offspring, or the reverse of such. It is asserted that, even though she is barren, she is the mother of angels. The question we must ask is twofold: how does she produce angels, and, what is the true nature of angels?

And the companion of the [disciple,] Mary Magdalene.

This small and simple assertion may be gravely overlooked, and seriously underrated.

This statement may actually be pivotal, not only in our understanding of the following statements, but also in our understanding of the preceding question. Here, Mary may stand as but a single example, that is, only one of the individuals to whom the wisdom has attached.

'What is the true nature of angels' may be answered in the following statement made by Jesus. The nature of the 'mothering' of angels may well be found in the 'light' that wisdom brings to an individual. In this regard, we may assert that the answer is the 'companion' of the question.

[Jesus] loved her more than all the disciples, and used to kiss her often on her mouth.

Jesus and Mary shared something special, something quite recognizable in each other.

What they held in common was none other than the companion, the mother of angels.

Now, many people use this portion of text to point out that the two of them may have been lovers, or may even have been married. One would think that if either of these was the case, the other disciples, being men, would have respected the fact. We never hear Andrew or Thomas asking Peter why he loved or kissed his wife more than them. It is pretty much a man-constant to respect another man's choices and property.

We quite plainly see from the text above that Mary is compared neither to other women or other men, but specifically to other disciples. It must be remembered that in those days, and in the culture of that time, men regularly kissed each other as a matter of greeting. Let us be glad that Jesus did not kiss all his disciples on the lips.

The rest of the disciples [were jealous(?)...confused(?)...upset about the elevation of women into discipleship(?)]. They said to him "Why do you love her more than all of us?"

Look closely: they acted and spoke, not as individuals, but as a group, e. g. “all of us”.

Moreover, Philip refers to them as that self-same entity: “the rest of the disciples”. Were they simply confused? Were they jealous of the affection she received? Were they upset, angry, offended by a woman being included into a male dominated social structure?

Now, look at the Lord's answer to their question. What does it say about Mary, about Jesus, about the others? More importantly, what does it say about the companion?

The Savior answered and said to them,"Why do I not love you like her? When a blind man and one who sees are both together in darkness, they are no different from one another. When the light comes, then he who sees will see the light, and he who is blind will remain in darkness."

The disciples spoke in terms of degree: “more”, as if loving Mary negated whatever love he had for them, but Jesus related first, that he loved all of them, and second, that he only loved her in a different way: “like”. He loved her differently for the stated reason.

That reason clearly expressed the fact that Mary had seen the light and the disciples were still in the dark. That light was the companion, the mother of angels, and it is no hard matter to see that Jesus felt closer and more at ease with Mary.

Comparisons Philip, here, turns his attention from differences to comparisons. In this first section, we are asked to compare reaping and sowing to the greater cycle of life and death. We immediately note that Philip has reversed the order of things, so, let us get straight our implications.

First, and normally, one sows in the spring or summer, and reaps or harvests in the fall or winter. With spring and summer, the province of life is implied; with fall and winter, the realm beyond this life is implied. By comparison, Philip is stating that what one does in this arena has a predictable culmination in the following arena. He points specifically to our actions here and now, which explains the reverse order: Those who sow in winter reap in summer. The winter is the world, the summer the other Aeon (eternal realm).

Normally, we associate the winter season with death. In other words, all that can be done on this side of death is accomplished no later than the fall harvest, and that harvest has a twofold purpose. It is meant to sustain us through the winter season, and it is intended for the next planting. Philip is stating that what we grow and gather from our lives is intended to get us through to the next periodic return to this field.

However, there is a serious underlying implication to Philip's reverse order of things, that being: what we call life is actually death, and what we call death is actually life. The things that develop in this field, what we may take with us into the next, may only be considered a harvest there.

So, it is only while we are present in this world that we may accomplish all our works, and it is here that we must satisfy the demands of what a harvest is intended to be.

Let us sow in the world that we may reap in the summer.

We bring no harvest from the other side, and anything we pluck from this side is actually a thing we remove from our own store: thus, we have less of life. We may return to the

next periodic planting with something to plant, but, do we have the strength to plant? We may return with strength, but, do we still have seeds?

Because of this, it is fitting for us not to pray in the winter. Summer (the true life) follows winter. But if any man reap (take to himself) in winter (this world) he will not actually reap but only pluck out, since it will not provide a harvest for such a person.

Look again. There is a shift from the physical reference of sowing seed to the spiritual reference of prayer. Comparatively, this speaks of one's hopes and where exactly they belong. One's prayer, or spiritual mindset, has here been categorized alongside of the process of reaping; that is to say, of gathering to oneself.

It is not only [certain of what is plucked] that it will [neither produce nor] come forth, but also on the Sabbath [harvest is forbidden, meaning essentially that the field] is barren.

Here, we may see that prayer is portrayed, not as idle, but as productive. Prayer is a building process, and therefore, it is a directional process that builds toward a culmination. Prayer, as with a harvest, must be centered in the culmination. Our spiritual mindset, or prayer, may not be centered in this world, for that detracts from the culmination in the realm of life.

The fact that Philip has recognized the sequential nature of existence, stated in “Summer follows winter�, should likewise spark in each of us a similar view. If we but look, we see the same thing in day and night, Yin and Yang, right and wrong, etc. It is a basic process that is best visualized in the act of breathing. The oxygen our body needs is applied to only one side of the in/out process. If applied to the outward side, we are deprived.

Philip's treatise is based on the natural double standard of the universe expressed in Yin and Yang. The same rule is expressed in the gospel of Thomas as 'a movement and a rest'. It is the primary principle of creation, and is the first to be found in the Bible: God created the world in six days (the movement) and then rested (the Sabbath).

In Philip's next comparison, we again see the Yin and Yang. When one handles a coin, one normally looks at one side or the other. The outer edge, along the side of the coin, is often overlooked, but it acts to connect the opposing sides. A coin not only has two opposing sides, but it also bears two quite different faces, stamps, or imprints. We may say, then, that giving and receiving are the two opposing sides of Philip's coin, in the comparison that follows, and we may also say that faith and love are the spiritual stamps that have been placed on them.

Faith receives, love gives.

The worldly mindset, or, if I may say, this side of the coin, tries to do two things: it attempts to place both giving and receiving under its own banner, while it dismisses the other side.

As a principle, this coin is brought up in the Bible. Jesus asked whose stamp was on the coin, and they answered that it was the stamp of Caesar. To this, Jesus replied: we should give to Caesar what is his, and give to God what belongs to God. He brought attention back to the other side of the coin. More importantly, he demonstrated that the opposing sides are connected in the individual.

Philip robs the worldly mindset, and puts things back where they belong: Yin on one side, and Yang on the other.

No one will be able to receive without faith. No one will be able to give without love.

The comparisons abound. The giving and receiving, the faith and love, are comparable to sowing and reaping, to Philip's summer and winter. Love, one must also note, is comparable to Christ, and the example of his sacrifice. The sacrifice of Christ, moreover, was a victory in that it was an act of giving that produced results.

In the larger sense, the comparison actually points to the difference between the opposing wisdoms: the worldly wisdom that attempts to include all under its own banner while in denial of its opposite, and the spiritual wisdom that builds in this realm toward a harvest in the next, in open acceptance that the two sides of the coin are connected in the individual.

Because of this, in order that we may indeed receive, we believe, and in order that we may love, we give, since if one gives without love, he has no profit from what he has given.

The final comparison is of the two faces of the coin. The one face has love (the lord, Jesus Christ). The other face tries to deny him while simultaneously trying to include him under its own banner.

He who has received something other than the Lord is still a Hebrew.

To understand what Philip is saying, we must see the coin that bears the Christian stamp on one side and the Hebrew stamp on the other. The side of the Hebrew is the wisdom of the world, or: that which denies, excludes, even destroys. The side of the Christian is the wisdom that includes both sides in its orientation. It sets the value of both sides, and connects them in the Christ-like individual.

Indeed, the seed that is planted in such an individual is not a thing any of us could bring with us from the other side. It must be planted on this side, and it is the believer, by faith, who receives it. To love and to give, on this side of the coin, draws its impetus from the other side, but it is not a culmination. It is simply the best of human nature that desires to share what is good and right.

Philip now brings us to yet another comparison. Glass decanters and earthenware jugs may be viewed as the opposing sides of the coin described above: that being, the sides of spirituality and worldliness. In using these images, rather than images of sowing and reaping, Philip shows us the similarity of the opposing sides.

Two things jump right out at us. First, we see that both items have the very same source of creation: fire. Fire, therefore, may be seen to symbolize God, for God has been described as a fire. Second, both items are made from the same source material, and for basically the same purpose: both will be filled.

We may say either that they are filled with water, or they are filled with wine; it matters not. We may say they are filled with grain or milk. Whatever fills the container, it is certain that the benefit is not intended for the container, but for the maker and/or owner of the container.

Glass decanters and earthenware jugs are both made by means of fire.

They are material creations. Philip does not need to dwell on the difference between the two: both are taken from the earth. We know the difference between clay and sand: clay is hardened while sand is transformed.

Is Philip speaking of the body or the spirit? He speaks of the actual container: the body, but that should not be viewed as separate from the container's purpose. Indeed, the container is intrinsically bound to its purpose.

Now, since both containers 'contain', we must look to the type for a clue to its purpose.

While both decanter and jug may be used to contain water, a decanter is not created for a common purpose. The more refined decanter, in and of itself, speaks of what it contains.

Wikipedia gives us this clue: “A decanter is a vessel that is used to hold the decantation of a liquid (such as wine) which may contain sediment. Decanters are normally used as serving vessels for wine.”

Furthermore, Wikipedia tells us this about the process of decantation: “Decantation is a process for the separation of mixtures. This is achieved by carefully pouring a solution from a container in order to leave the precipitate (sediments) in the bottom of the original container. Usually a small amount of solution must be left in the container, and care must be taken to prevent a small amount of precipitate from flowing with the solution out of the container. It is generally used to separate a liquid from an insoluble solid (e.g. in red wine, where the wine is decanted from the potassium bitartrate crystals). For example, to obtain a sample of clear water from muddy water, muddy water is left in a container until the mud settles, and then the clear water is poured into another container.”

Both words, 'serving' and 'wine', speak of the benefit derived by the maker/owner of the vessel. We see that the word 'serving' is not used in relation to the coarser earthenware

jug. If both are used to represent the human condition, we see that man is both the jug and the decanter. Also, we take note that a process is involved between the two types which are seen in the self-same individual. It is a process of settling. Coarse elements are allowed to settle so that the proper mixture may be poured off. The jug, with its vile sediment, is broken. It is of no more use, and may not be returned to.

It must be noted that the more refined decanter is a vessel of service to the maker/owner.

The decanter is emptied into the glass, which is the vessel of service brought closest to the maker/owner. Unlike the jug, the decanter is reusable. Its end, or destruction, is never a true end, for the same material may be reworked. From its own shards it is reborn, Phoenix-like, through the fire.

But if glass decanters break, they are done over, for they came into being through a breath. If earthenware jugs break, however, they are destroyed, for they came into being without breath.

The eye is naturally drawn to the word 'breath'. We quickly assume that the 'breath' mentioned is the creation of man. Our rash assumption is wrong. While it is true the decanter and jug share a common source, our comparisons fail with such a premise, for all of us, aside from Adam, are just born: that is, brought about without the assumed breath of creation.

We must view the refined decanter as the inner man rather than the outer man, and by saying this, I point toward the mindset more than the flesh. Also, we must view the breath as a communication of the more refined mindset. That communication, or breath, may only be received after the application of fire to such an extent that the source material has become manipulable. Here, we note a certain brittle nature which the jug of earthenware is unable to overcome.

Next, Philip touches upon the superiority of the inner man in comparison to the 'common state'. The common state is a devolved state that is characterized by selfconsumption, and here, I use the word self in a collective sense. Before I come properly to what Philip says, I present illustrations that may act to prepare the reader for Philip's message.

A group of civilized and moral individuals travel across a mountain. They become trapped by snow at the most inaccessible point. With food depleted and friends dying, their superiority devolves into a common state of self consumption.

A man maintains a small farm, keeping things in order through his superiority. He feeds himself beef and milk, he feeds his cows hay from the fields, and calves milk from the cows, he feeds his pigs slop, and his dogs scraps. The situation devolves in a single stroke. The man dies, and falls into the pig pin; the pigs eat him. Without milk, the

calves become sick, and without scraps, the dogs eat the cattle.

Philip states that the superiority of man may not be found in the external world, but in the 'inner man'. What makes the best of us as good as we are, cannot be seen or measured. Those among the whole who subscribe to only what is measurable live already in a devolved state where the better part of mankind is denied and even ridiculed.

The superiority of man is not obvious to the eye, but lies in what is hidden from view.

Now, Philip speaks of animals, but it would be wrong, here, to take him literally. Let us say, rather, that Philip compares the better state to the devolved state.

Consequently, he has mastery over the animals which are stronger than he is and great in terms of the obvious and the hidden.

The representative of the devolved state is the brute. By use of this term, I mean both the animal and the common man. Either are stronger than the man with superiority. Both animal and common man have physical strength and instinctual natures that lend to their survival.

This enables them to survive.

Indeed, the influence of the superior man is tenuous at best. He holds things together – sort of: about as well as a sailor holds the sea in place. We say, however, that the sea has been conquered. When we view the whole, both with and without the 'old salt', what is the difference? The superior man has been called the salt of the earth. What happens when you take that one special ingredient out of the mix?

But if man is separated from them, they slay one another and bite one another.

The devolved state comes into play. When that special individual opens a path across the sea, he opens it as well to the common man. Then the common man claims honor for the work, looking only at what is obvious, and denying all things above the obvious.

Among the common may be found all those who decry the special. These are the ones who bite and tear at one another. These are the ones who commit offenses and wars.

Some of them pose as the special ones, and the true special ones are blamed for offenses and wars.

The salt of the earth gives direction, like the governor of a ship: the ship goes 'wheresoever the governor listeth'. These are also the elite few who are charged with the maintenance that holds all things in their place. Without them there is chaos.

They (the brutes) ate one another because they did not find any food.

Ultimately, the raging beast of overpowering commonality is held in check and given direction by those rare individuals who possess the superior inner man. To keep the

devolved state at bay, the brutes must be fed. They must be given their 'meat in due season'.

But now they have found food because (the inner) man tilled (ordered) the soil(mind).

Knowledge comes quite often by comparison. That said, comparison implies separate identities. If all identities are viewed as part of the whole, there is no apparent problem; the complete package is available.

God [provides a complete] garden. Man [avails himself completely of the] garden.

What Philip wishes to impress upon the reader is that a garden is, not only a place but, a state of being, even a state of mind in which the whole package is available.

There are [spiritual] and [worldly gardens] of God. [Adam's garden was an image of all gardens.]

How may we view a garden? For the sake of simplicity, I suggest that anything which provides completely, is a garden. The home and family unit may be viewed as a garden.

The church may be viewed as a garden. The internet may be viewed as a garden. Society and, dare I say, even its law, may be viewed as a garden.

The things which are in [my garden are available to me, as] I wish.

All things are laid out before me. They are there for the choosing. Much of our presentday, 'western' dogma places an extremely high value on choice. Philip points to an attitude that transcends the ages; Philip illuminates an attitude, basic to all men in all times, that states: “Hey, do as you please.�

This garden is the place where they will say to me, "[Come,] eat this or do not eat that, just as you wish."

Yet, for all our 'live and let live' bravado, it is common knowledge that certain choices are off-limits. It is there for you to choose, only – you are not allowed to choose it.

In the place where I will eat all things is the Tree of Knowledge.

The trouble with knowledge is not knowledge, but choice. When one chooses, one must necessarily employ discrimination and prejudice. One must 'reason' one choice better than another choice. The choices are named and cataloged; standards are created.

Separation is placed not only between the arbitrary 'good' and 'bad', but also between 'we' who choose the good, and 'they' who choose the bad.

That one killed Adam, but here the Tree of Knowledge made men alive.

Did the tree of the knowledge of good and evil actually kill Adam? Since Philip is openly comparing the tree of the knowledge of good and evil to the law, we are free to follow his lead. We may understand him to say, therefore, that it was the law that killed Adam. As far as we know, Adam had one law: 'don't eat from the tree'. If law was the

tree, then Adam was responsible for one thing, and one thing only: 'don't break the law'.

Adam's theme song might well have been the Sonny Curtis song popularized by The Bobby Fuller Four: “I fought the law, and the law won”.

The law was the tree. It has power to give the knowledge of good and evil.

Could it have been that the creation story actually was an allegory on the law? The law does indeed provide man with knowledge of good and evil. I, personally, have never known a person who writes law into effect – and many others throughout the ages may say likewise. We can, with one voice, ask: “Who makes this stuff up?”.

The age old philosophical question has ever been: 'can one who does not know the law be held accountable?'. If God had not told them about the tree in the first place, would there have been an original sin? That aside, it always seems as if it is another who gets to decide right and wrong, and not the individual 'I'.

Jesus, the individual, once asked: 'which one of you can convince me of wrong?'. He, in himself, knew right and wrong. It was an internal law not arbitrarily produced by others.

If you accuse me of something, I will know the truth of it more than any other person, because, no matter where I am, I am a witness of my own actions. The law allows others to say what you did or did not do.

Law neither perfects a man, nor recognizes a perfect man. Law merely chains man to the earth, in acceptance of eventual doom.

It neither removed him from evil, nor did it set him in the good, but it created death for those who ate of it.

On the one hand, if you know jaywalking is against the law, your own conscience will convict you each time you do it, no matter whether or not you are caught. On the other hand, if you go out into the street to help a blind man who has strayed, who can convince you that the law has been broken? You were, in fact, upholding a higher law.

Biblical detractors of the law, especially evident in the book of Hebrews, were concerned with two facets of the issue only. One was punishment, and the other was redemption. The punishment part was pretty much written stone, but, how could one be saved who had already accepted the heavy chain of law? In either scenario, 'conscience' was the central theme.

For when he said, "Eat this, do not eat that", it became the beginning of death.

Philip returns to the theme of 'summer and winter'. Here, he adds two spirits and two waters for comparison. A close inspection of the wording raises certain questions.

By perfecting the water of baptism, Jesus emptied it of death.

First of all: what is the difference between perfected and unperfected baptismal water?

When I think of baptism, I at least picture an individual standing in water. Sometimes

the individual is sprinkled, while in certain other instances the individual is simply dunked. 'Catholic' types will simply pour out a bit from some container, or a hand, on the top of the head.

Personally, I was baptized by a church of God preacher who poured out a few drops of water from a container, followed by a double daub of oil to the forehead. He made a house call, so, I can understand the container.

Here in Philip's statement, we must be able to wrap our minds around two opposing concepts. The one concept is water that contains death, and the other concept is water, after death in its liquid state has been poured out, that contains only life.

Just how does one pour something out of water? When we think of pouring, we naturally imagine something from which another something may be poured. We picture a cup, for instance. A cup contains, and a cup may be emptied. For me, two references to 'cup' spring to mind.

The first reference is Psalm 23; it states 'my cup runneth over'. Owing to my own baptism, recounted above, I cannot miss the connection of an over-running cup to anointing oil. Read it for yourselves. The cup in the psalm is not sloshing over with a surfeit of wine; it contains the Holy water of life, in association to the anointing oil, meant for sanctification. It is a cup that is poured out, a baptism.

The second reference is found on the Mount of Olives. In prayer, Jesus asked, “let this cup pass from me�. Now, it is obvious to all that this cup is mentioned in relation to his impending death. While other cups are mentioned in the gospels, cups of wine referencing the Passover, this particular cup, I think, is a cup poured out, and is the opposite of the cup found in Psalm 23.

Finally, let us think upon the process of pouring out. In an earlier passage, Philip spoke of decanters of glass and earthenware jugs. We explored the issue of decantation, and discovered a liquid that may be relevant to this particular application. Wine is a mixture; it is not pure. The coarser residue must settle to the bottom in the process of decantation.

Once that matter is settled, the better part is poured out.

In the process of pouring out death, it is the better part, less by volume, which must be allowed to collect.

Thus we do go down into the water, but we do not go down into death, So, what is the association of water to death? First and foremost, the association is to drowning. Water is a powerful element, easily able to overwhelm an individual or a crowd. It can wash away homes. When the dead slip beneath its remorseless swell, they are covered for all time: death owns them. When a body is covered thus, it has reached a point of no return in all of the corruption that death symbolizes. There is no more rising up into the light of life.

These are precisely the implications of baptism. One is covered by death, but death itself is owned, and there is a rising again to light and life. All the corruption associated with death is washed off as one comes back. In terms of decantation, death is poured out, while the residue of life that has settled and collected in the individual is kept, used, honored. Those are the two waters that Philip compares: death and life. Water places man into the common mix and allows for no control, no direction. Baptism removes those elements, washes away darkness and corruption. Baptism is an act of decantation that collects and preserves the best in a man, providing both direction and control. in order that we may not be poured out into the spirit (mindset) of the world.

The fluid quality of water is comparable to the fluid quality of wind. Thus, the mixed water that overwhelms, that drives the individual along with all the other flotsam and jetsam, is comparable to the hot wind that drives the chaff before it. In that sense, both death-water and chaff-wind own the things within their mix. While both applications end at the same place, each is seen by its own definition.

Water may be seen as a chain to the earth, a thing that will not allow one to rise up. As chains go, one is chained not only to the earth (or, all that is corporeal, worldly, fleshly, limited) one is chained to the whole merry-go-round. Without a powerful help, man is just not able to escape the confines of death. Death is cyclic; death is a system.

Wind, on the other hand, may be seen as invisible forces that prevent us from making attachments. Without weight of our own to hold us down, connections are required to hold us in place. These invisible forces are also cyclic. There is a system in place that works against an individual finding his own place. One is either in control, or someone (or something) else is in control. The invisible hot wind is a system of control.

I have long maintained that a spirit and a mindset are the same thing. What I am speaking of, in regard to a system of control, are the very thoughts in our heads. A man enjoys the attachment of family, but when the thoughts in his head place him in the arms of another woman, his present attachment is destroyed. Now, these thoughts do not originate in us; they are part of a larger system, a larger mindset. Consider how advertising affects our thoughts regarding such things as appearance, social acceptance, and desirability. Consider how the 'winds of change' war against stability.

The spirit of the world is nothing other than the way the world thinks. Those hot winds that take us hither and yon, they are not the whole matter. A drunk may begin in a bar, but he will end up in a fight, and then in a hospital, or more likely, in a gutter or in a jail.

When the hot winds are done with us, the cold winds take us up.

When that spirit blows, it brings the winter.

They hide us under a heavy snow the likes of which are not easily escaped. The snow traps us, and binds us to the earth. We are frozen in place, but it is not our place. It is the place the system has chosen for us.

Hot winds and cold winds are like tag team wrestlers: they are on the same team, part of the same system. The invisible forces, or, the way the world thinks, is a system that you are not apart from. You are included among the chaff. You will go where the wind blows you. Without strong help in the making of proper attachments, you will not find a place that is your own. The tag team spirit of the world has a methodology. They sucker punch you, then they pin you to the mat.

Philip's comparison speaks of sets. There is the water of death, and there is baptism.

There is the spirit (or mindset) of the world, and there is the spirit (or mindset) of all that is higher and better than mere worldliness. There is the winter of our present despair, and there is the summer of eternal ascendancy.

When the Holy Spirit breathes, the summer comes.

There are the invisible winds of this small and limited world, but know that there is also a higher, a better spirit. It is a way of thinking that will give you a place of your own: above all worldliness. Know that you are not in this match alone. Just reach out and take the hand of your partner.

Philip continues in the same vein of thought, comparing like with like, and illuminating their places in the bigger picture, while exploring the potential in each of us.

The human being has intercourse with the human being. The horse has intercourse with the horse, the ass with the ass.

In a very common sense approach, Philip reminds us that everything has a place in the bigger picture. Everything and everyone has an optimal attachment: a connection that works best. He sums it up in the following statement about normal associations.

Members of a race usually have associated with those of like race.

He expands his concept to include thoughts and spirits and orientations. We have an old expression: 'great minds think alike'. Experience itself will demonstrate that people associate more often with those of like mind. The rules and bylaws of many institutions, fellowships, societies are so written as to establish a common orientation in the thinking and behavior of their individual members.

So spirit mingles with spirit, and thought consorts with thought, and light shares with light.

Furthermore, one's very nature seems geared toward its own kind in most cases. The point is that, while we may have humble beginnings, our nature is a thing that is able to transcend. Nature is a thing that may be one-upped. The extended point is that, whatever nature we find ourselves in, those of like nature and orientation will seek us out and attach to us.

If you are born a human being, it is the human being who will love you.

If you become a spirit, it is the spirit which will be joined to you.

If you become thought, it is thought which will mingle with you.

If you become light, it is the light which will share with you.

If you become one of those who belong above, it is those who belong above who will rest upon you.

Philip clearly shows us that there is is an upward direction, and more so, an upward inclination: a predisposition to rise. There is an opposing direction that Philip reminds us of. It is not a direction of the flesh. He does not speak of being reincarnated into lower physical forms. He speaks of an individual's inner nature, a thing that may change for better or worse. He speaks of an individual's orientation, which in many cases is a creature of our own choosing.

If you become horse or ass or bull or dog or sheep, or another of the animals which are outside or below, then neither human being nor spirit nor thought nor light will be able to love you.

In an overall generic sense, the message is this: if you choose to be and act in a manner that is below the rest of society, society will not associate with you. Similarly, there will be no association of the higher orders without the corresponding orientation. One may conclude, therefore, that the path of ascendency winds through realms unseen and unknown by the lower states.

Neither those who belong above nor those who belong within will be able to rest in you, and you have no part in them.

Now, back to animals. So far, they have been quite useful in Philip's reasoning. Here, he employs them once more. In a comparison of wild and domestic animals, Philip reveals a subtle and overlooked difference between two types of man, and by extension, two types of spirit.

There are domestic animals, like the bull and the ass and others of this kind. Others are wild and live apart in the deserts.

Man has domesticated certain types of animals, essentially giving them a place in his daily life. They are useful in man's labors, but by those same labors not only is the man maintained, but the animals as well.

The maintenance seems to extend beyond the simple domain of the man, as the wild animals are said to benefit as well from the labors of the domestic. For instance, while the domestic ass is employed to plow the field, the wild deer will feed from the same bounty. The wolf will come to associate the field with the regular gathering of its prey.

Man ploughs the field by means of the domestic animals, and from this he is nourished,

he and the animals, whether tame or wild.

That was the preparation, and that is where we see Philip stepping up to the next higher level. He asks the reader to compare his simple man with a plow to the perfect man. We will compare both the person and the actions of the two men.

Compare the perfect man.

A man labors toward a harvest. The farmer, making use of the domestic animals within his domain, produces enough food to take himself and all his animals through the coming cold season. During that season, the animals, which labored so hard in the fields, are kept in a warm stall and cared for. The beasts, though powerful, were submissive to the will of the man, and it was through that submissive power that the harvest came to be.

It is through powers which are submissive that he ploughs, preparing for everything to come into being.

Let me be clear: in comparing the farmer to the perfect man, Philip is comparing you and I to the animals, both wild and tame. The perfect man is a reference to adepts of a higher spiritual caliber. The perfect man symbolizes either the disciple or the ascendant.

For it is because of this that the whole place stands, whether the good or the evil, the right and the left.

Here, Philip shoots well past the issue of 'good and evil' to expose the core upon which such issues rest. That core is summed up in regular maintenance. The domestic first labors, then is stalled and cared for. When the planting season returns, the domestic is put back to work. Philip is actually pointing to the cyclic nature of life on earth. We, whether wild or tame, come and go and come again.

Some of us, being tame, labor within a domain that belongs not to us. We benefit from our own labors, as do the wild, but what our labors do more is provide growth and direction to the domain. The farm grows, and begins to barter with other farms. Soon enough, there is a whole community centered around the cooperative labors of all the farms. With growth comes the opportunity to make plans, to choose a direction.

Now, let's talk about the differences between those who dominate and those who are dominated. The farmer dominates the domestic animals within his domain, but not the wild. The wild he keeps at bay, in a sense, affecting their natural behavior. He plants a field and provides for more than his domestics; he builds a fence, thus telling both wild and tame where they may not venture.

In order for us to step up to the next higher level and compare the farmer/perfect man to

the Holy Spirit, we must be able to see the Holy Spirit as an addition to, or one-up for, the farmer/perfect man. Imagine the domain filled with animals, man being one of them.

For the potential of growth and direction to become actual fact, there must be an avenue of advancement for one of the animals. That animal must 'become' the one to lead. The Holy Spirit, by its presence in any one animal, will affect all other animals as well.

The Holy Spirit shepherds everyone and rules all the powers, the "tame" ones and the "wild" ones, as well as those which are unique.

Therefore, among the tally of all animals, there must be a 'unique' animal: one especially adapted for the path of advancement. A 'power', as used here, may be viewed as any entity which acts and achieves. A unique power is an entity, whether physical, spiritual, or hybrid, which is empowered to maintain and direct the cyclic domain.

Some of us will ever be outside the fence, some others of us will seem anything but free.

Our time is consumed by the small drudgeries of daily maintenance. The only rest we may hope for lies well beyond the season of our present labors. We are enclosed here, and according Philip, we may be enclosed there – but there is a reason why the unique ones hold us in place.

Our core nature is still as wild as what may be found on the other side of the fence.

Should we escape back to that side, we will certainly become wild again, and while that may seem 'natural', as some put it, I prefer to call it 'brutish'. It is certain that none of the beasts outside, when it comes to the cold season, will find a warm stall and someone to care for them.

For indeed he [deliberately] shuts them in, in order that [they will not be able to do what they naturally] wish, they will not be able to escape.

Connections We have followed Philip as he compared the one with the other. We have followed him as he illuminated the differences between the one and the other. Examples he gave us, and definitions he gave us of just what the one and the other are. Now we must look at the connections that one and the other have.

Ordinarily, a person cares for but a single rose in a single garden. It is the most personal bloom of that person's most special place. That place is usually small and narrow.

The connections that many of us attend are singular facets of a multifaceted world. Our flower may be family, or it may be community. It may be what we already find ourselves to be: such as male, female, white, or black, etc. Our flower sits in the center of a garden that is fenced in to separate it from all other gardens.

Sometimes our garden may be expanded. We may enlarge our garden from the white male bloom, for example, to an ideology of whiteness or maleness, but that is no real improvement. The expansion may become the bloom of any number of single flowers: national pride, allegiance to a sport or one particular team. In any thing that I might list, we will only see one or another connection.

The same holds true for higher connections. One is usually found to cling either to the world or the spirit, but not both. One will be either in the camp of righteousness or sin, but not both. One will promote either life or death, but not both. One is either the son of God or Mammon, but not both.

When it comes to either life or death, Philip asks, has one really lived in order that he may die? This is a question worthy of any seeker's close inspection. For by this question a man must decide what really is life and what really is death. Now, out of the myriad definitions of life, one must employ certain higher skills of discrimination in order that he may determine the one proper and real definition.

This will seem to be, on the surface, rather than an expansion, a shrinking back and a fencing in, but what I am really speaking of here is finding the flower that grows among weeds, and giving it its own place. Life: there may only be one bloom. All others are weeds.

A Gentile does not die, for he has never lived in order that he may die.

Life, as we have gathered from certain other teachings, is invariably linked to truth and knowledge of the truth. Of course, this necessarily predisposes a personal relationship with the truth beyond merely knowing it. As I have said so many times, this path is open only to those who are open to this path.

He who has believed in the truth has found life, and this one is in danger of dying, for he is alive.

On this particular path, one's personal garden is more than expanded, it is lifted up. It places one above the cyclic re-occurrence of physical existence, onto a higher plane where death is the loss of a personal relationship with the truth.

Before the dawn, one may see all things. However, one sees all in a sort of half-light half-shadow. Then, when the sun rises, all things are bathed in a brighter light. It is a light that makes distinctions between what is truly light and what it truly shadow. It is also a light that warms and comforts those who have waited, and looked for its coming.

As the light climbs higher, all shadows diminish.

Since Christ came, the world has been created, the cities adorned, the dead carried out.

So back to our gardens. We have seen the limitation of our normal connections. To have a flower in one's garden necessarily means that the confusion of weeds is removed. But, by doing so, one ends up with but a single connection. We see that Philip is working

toward more than a single connection. When it comes to a personal relationship with the truth, we find that the nature of truth, unlike the nature of limitation, is inclusive.

Christ, the rising, includes and combines the things which are normally found to be separate. We may therefore surmise that the worldly, who seek and obtain spiritual truth, are connected both to the world and to God. When we were Hebrews, we were orphans and had only our mother, but when we became Christians, we had both father and mother.

Philip wants us to see the connections. Philip was a seeker, just as you and I are seekers.

And what do we seek but the core element that connects all things. We have previously assumed that there was only a difference between life and death. Philip has shown us that there is a connection between life and death. That connection is the type of individual.

To say that a dead man may not die is more than an understatement. To make such a claim places a qualifier on the exact natures of life, and existence. All of us exist, but that is not to say that all of us have found and taken hold of life. The claim, then, is that life is a higher matter than mere existence.

Yet, 'die' is an easy word; it rolls readily from the tongue, and all who hear the word understand that we mean 'cease to exist'. I'm not going to waste my time on three words when I can use one instead. We find next, however, that Philip uses the word die in what may at first seem to be a counter-indicative manner, but, look again. I think he is merely using the easier word to say that all who exist, cease to exist.

This world is a corpse-eater. All the things eaten in it themselves die also.

The world, as we know it, is a closed physical loop. From one and the same system spring all animate forms. When the animating force departs, the system recycles the remaining matter. Nothing is lost. The bodies we associate with our lives return to the dust we came from.

Life, on the other hand, has its own system; it is its own closed loop. Whereas the world spits out material only to swallow it back down later, gaining nothing, life lends, like a banker, to receive again with interest. Truth is the teller's window.

Truth is a life-eater.

Philip's claim places the individual on a higher plain than the body. The material flesh is nourished by things which are produced from the self-same closed loop. Those things, like the corpse the flesh will become, are simply recycled material. The inner man, the individual of whom Philip speaks, is on loan from the banker of life. The true individual is nourished from a higher system; that individual is nourished by life, and becomes life.

You are what you eat, after all.

Therefore no one nourished by truth will die.

The true content of this passage is Philip's desire to show the connection between life and truth. Recall what I said above: truth is the teller's window. Life is on loan to those who merely exist, and that transaction occurs through the window of truth.

It would appear that the banker himself filled his pockets and loaned himself out through that window. Moreover, he named himself with the name of the window: truth. Jesus is known as the truth.

It was from that place that Jesus came and brought food.

A way into and from a higher plain was established. Jesus is known as the way. More than simply passing loans through a window, the one who loaned, loaned himself. In order to accomplish such a feat, the window had to be transformed into a door. Jesus is known as the door.

Some of us had been given a heads up about a new banking policy and we opted in. We opted in just like a hungry man will join the bread line. He waits until he is given bread; he eats and lives. Jesus is known as the bread of life.

To those who so desired, he gave life, that they might not die.

We proceed to Philip's next discussion, in which he makes a bold claim. The claim is this: God has accomplished a work in the earth. On the surface, that may seem less than extraordinary – however, Philip has an angle, and we must be able to view his claim at that angle. The work that God accomplished is through Levi and has a connection to the number 72.

The Lord went into the dye works of Levi. He took seventy-two different colors and threw them into the vat.

I could find no record of a Levi who owned a dye works in my searches. When we think of dye we think of fabrics. According to the Bible, only the descendants of Gershon were responsible for the fabrics used in the tabernacle. For the purpose of this study, I will assume that Levi referenced the priesthood generally. More on that later. For now, I will commence with the number 72. Here are some facts I've gleaned from Wikipedia highlighting the significance of that number.

The average number of heartbeats per minute for a resting adult.

Percentage of water of which the human body is composed.

The life duration of the ovule is 72 hours.

The axis of the earth moves one degree every 72 years compared to the stars of heaven.

The number of languages spoken at the Tower of Babylon. (News to me!)

The conventional number of scholars translating the Septuagint, according to the legendary account in the "Letter of Aristeas".

The conventional number of disciples sent forth by Jesus in Luke 10 in some

manuscripts (seventy in others).

The number of names of God, according to the Kabbalah (see names of God in Judaism).

The Shemhamphorasch related to the number of the names of God. The total number of books in the Holy Bible in the Catholic version if the Book of Lamentations is considered part of the Book of Jeremiah.

The current distribution of the Book of Revelation is 22 chapters, adopted since the 13th century, but the oldest known division of the text is that of the Greek commentator Andrew of Cesary (6th century) into 72 chapters.

The number of warriors on the Muslim side at the Battle of Badr.

The number of people martyred along with Imam Hussain at the Battle of Karbala.

The 72 old men of the synagogue, according to the Zohar.

The number of houri each Muslim martyr (or every Muslim male, according to some ahadith) shall receive as companions in Paradise.

The degrees of the Jacob's ladder were to the number of 72, according to the Zohar.

The 72 disciples of Confucius.

Thoth, in an Egyptian creation myth, wins a 72nd of each day of the year from the Moon in a game of draughts, as a favor to Nut, the Sky Goddess. He uses these portions to make the five intercalary days on which the remaining Gods and Goddesses are born.

The good god Osiris was enclosed in a coffin by 72 evil disciples and accomplices of Set. It is the number of the Immortals of Taoism.

At the age of puberty, the young Parsee received the investiture of the sacred cord Kucti made of 72 linens in symbol of the community.

In Cao Dai, the number of planets between hell and heaven.

There are 72 demons and other spirits in the goetia The Lesser Key of Solomon.

This is the link http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/72_(number) It would appear that the number 72 holds an integral significance. So, to what might we compare 72 colors? What is the connection? Could it be 72 people chosen from among the tribes? Could the colors represent aspects of the human condition in general? Should we place the emphasis on 'colors', or more on the number '72'? Specifically, is Jesus pointing to things that mankind has arbitrarily assigned as important?

At any rate, Jesus, here, seems to say something similar to what we remember from the canon: that even if we are as crimson, he will make us white as snow.

He took them out all white. And he said, "Even so has the Son of Man come as a dyer."

Philip has shown a connection between 'Divinity', as a goal, and the 'human condition', as a sojourn. Mankind's march is like the march of Moses through the desert, with all the displaced people in tow. Their march was long and tedious, stretching between what they had lost and what they hoped for. They carried something special in their midst: God. That powerful presence was maintained through the priesthood: Levi.

If we assign God the pureness of the color white, then, according to Philip, all who touch God touch white and become white, in the sense that all who touch water become wet. Levi was white. Also, all those touched by Levi became white. Likewise, God touched Jesus, who touched the disciples, who touched those who touched us.

Contact with the spirit of God transmits the attributes of that spirit to the spirit within each of us. Philip is saying that God rubs off on us. He is not speaking in any wise of the flesh, but only of the spirit. Philip explains the connection between a spiritual God and worldly men of flesh. That connection is the Holy Spirit.

God takes the true dye, his very nature, and dyes us in that. When he pulls us out of the dye, the spirit in our unchanged flesh is the color of his nature. The Holy Spirit takes what belongs to God and imparts it to us. The great example of a man dyed white as God is Jesus.

You will note, when you read Philip's conclusion below, That God dips us in water. Our first thoughts may run toward baptism. Be reminded, however, that water is used to symbolize the Holy Spirit. Try not to be overwhelmed by the word 'immortal'. Immortal is a spiritual quality that has nothing to do with the cyclic nature of life and death.

God is a dyer. As the good dyes, which are called "true", dissolve with the things dyed in them, so it is with those whom God has dyed. Since his dyes are immortal, they become immortal by means of his colors. Now God dips what he dips in water.

Finally, we conclude Philip's connections with something I have noted in canon.

God is a man-eater.

Too many people are focused on local events and personal concerns. They fail to think that God has his own agenda. A living God eats. The Bible tells us that God plants a spiritual seed, expecting a spiritual harvest.

Mankind has been likened to wheat in a field, to fruit on a tree, to grapes on the vine, to cattle on a thousand hills. All of these are of personal use to the maintenance of a living God. These are not physical people led to the slaughter to appease the appetite of God, rather, they are spiritual.

Below, Philip speaks of sacrifice, and as often as not, we tend to think of a victim dragged to the alter kicking and screaming – or at least bleating and terrified. This is not the case in Philip's premise.

For this reason, men are sacrificed to him.

If it is not physical man that is sacrificed to God, then it must be spiritual man. By saying this, we are considering an opposite. A spiritual sacrifice includes no victim; there is no terror, and it is not forced upon one by others. The inner man willingly hands himself over to a higher process that suggests a sacrifice equal to the recipient.

Before men were sacrificed, animals (all creatures, including physical man) were being sacrificed, since those to whom they were sacrificed were not gods.

The Union Of Opposites Philip deals extensively with opposites. He has covered both the differences and the connections. He has given us comparisons, and has attempted to define the opposites.

One might aptly re-title this work 'Philip's Yin and Yang'.

In this section of our topical study, we follow Philip as he illuminates the union of the opposites. We may see in the symbol of Yin and Yang a perfect fit, a union where the beginning of one fits into the place which the other yields. It is a type of intercourse, and Philip presents it as such.

No one can know when the husband and the wife have intercourse with one another, except the two of them.

Philip leans heavily on the mystery of marriage. For the most part, the mystery of marriage, the intimate act of sanctified intercourse, is a thing that holds true even to this day. We may say that the opposites know their own connection, but the rest of us are left with the questions of 'where', and 'when', and 'how' – but especially, 'why'.

Indeed, marriage in the world is a mystery for those who have taken a wife.

Even among us who marry, intimate sanctified union is a mystery. To those modern and knowledgeable ones among us, who know the workings of the body, or who understand society as a whole, union is still a mystery. Should a knowledgeable man attempt an explanation, and that explanation is scientifically correct, some vital point will still be missing.

So, if those in the know really don't know, we are left to make comparisons until we stumble upon the truth. A seeker must embrace comparison, absolutely must appreciate its importance to the advancement of understanding. While Philip is touching upon the union of opposites, let us recall that he is not so much comparing the man to the woman as he is worldly, or corporeal, union to spiritual union.

It can be said that we have a fair amount of understanding as pertains to worldly union.

When we compare our understanding of corporeal union to spiritual union, the true mystery of the union of opposites begins to dawn on us.

If there is a hidden quality to the marriage of defilement, how much more is the undefiled marriage a true mystery!

Its as clear as night and day. The swelling dawn fits snugly into that place which the night yields. The swelling of the bridegroom fits snugly into that place which the bride yields. The secret of marriage requires that one party yield to the penetrating will of the other. While one party is lessened by the dominance of the other, there is a greater overall issue with which we must be concerned.

That issue is purpose, something that goes beyond the mere doing. The purpose of marriage, of union, of Yin and Yang, is to create a path through which the same point may be reached. Night always yields to the swelling dawn. Spent day always nestles into the bosom of night. The same point is repeatedly reached, but there is no gain.

In marriage, the opposites produce offspring, and the same point of union is reached.

However, the parents are lost, and so there is no gain. Our understanding of corporeal union knows it to be of lust and desire, love and emotion, flesh, darkness and secrecy.

We know that in a world overpopulated with offspring, as long as the parents are lost, there is no gain. By comparing all this to spiritual union, we can pretty well guess what that higher union is all about.

It is not fleshly, but pure. It belongs not to desire, but to the will. It belongs not to the darkness or the night, but to the day and the light.

According to Philip, then, the mystery of sanctified intimate spiritual union is, first, not like that of the flesh, which in itself carries several implications. Second, it is a union not found in the realm of emotion; it does not belong to desire, or what mankind considers to be love. Rather, it belongs in the realm of the will: that is to say, that it belongs to the mind specifically, and to mentality in general. Third, it does not exist in secret, nor is it exclusive; rather, it is spread abroad openly, and includes all that are illuminated by it.

Philip may be seen to digress from the spiritual at this point. He returns to the secretive and exclusive nature of worldly marriage. If nothing else, the following may prove useful in understanding the mindset of the middle East in regard to marriage. By that I mean that the mystery of worldly union is intrinsically related to the dominance of one party, and the very high esteem held for the dominated party.

We see that one party of that union is so highly prized that the mere sight of her outside the confines of that relationship is considered as defilement. We see in this a treasure, highly esteemed, and held exclusively. This may, to some extent, explain the heavy dress and veils of middle Eastern women.

If a marriage is open to the public, it has become prostitution, and the bride plays the harlot not only when she is impregnated by another man, but even if she slips out of her bedroom and is seen.

That particular mindset, while worldly, may yet have some bearing on Philip's thoughts concerning a higher union. This is the mindset of intimate knowledge. Here, must be recalled a salient point. We are comparing the spiritual union to the worldly union; not only is our comparison, worldly vs spiritual, one of opposites, but each taken separately, must be viewed as a union of opposites. The spiritual union is a union of opposites.

While the spiritual union is open and inclusive, the fact that there must be an opposite gives us hungry seekers much to chew on. That middle Eastern mindset, already touched upon, is actually a mindset of high esteem, ownership, and jealousy. When one comes into possession of a treasure, one naturally esteems it highly. It may also be said that one may only be jealous of what one truly owns.

So, in a spiritual union, the dominant party possesses the other – the one that yields.

These two parties are opposites; they are the spirit of God, and the spirit within man.

The spirit within man is God's treasure; he owns it, and is naturally jealous of it. He wishes no other dominant spirit to possess it, or even to see how glorious it is. Such a union defines the parameters of the yielding spirit.

Faithfulness, fidelity to, and alliance with the dominant party precludes casual associations with other dominant spirits. The middle Eastern mindset is a reflection of the new spiritual alignment. If the spirit in a man yields to the spirit of God, God will say to that man, 'Thou shalt have no other gods but me; I am a jealous God'.

That spirit finds itself in a new spiritual family, and it is to that extent that it may expose itself. See below. Finally, let us compare the spiritual union to its opposite: the worldly union. The worldly union seeks a path to the same point, but there is no gain. There is only the serial nature of that union's machinery. Being the opposite of such a dead end must mean, therefore, that there is gain in the spiritual union: growth and continuance.

Let her show herself only to her father and her mother, and to the friend of the bridegroom and the sons of the bridegroom. These are permitted to enter every day into the bridal chamber. But let the others yearn just to listen to her voice and to enjoy her ointment, and let them feed from the crumbs that fall from the table, like the dogs.

Bridegrooms and brides belong to the bridal chamber. No one shall be able to see the bridegroom with the bride unless he become such a one.

Philip speaks of the union of opposites. The mystery is an intimate connection. It is a connection that reproduces, not the opposites so much as, the connection.

Great is the mystery of marriage!

The great cycle of existence is a wheel with a spoke for every conceivable issue. The turning will always return to that point on the wheel. The harvest of one season always is the planting of the next.

For without it, the world would not exist.

The wheel may more precisely be visualized as a coil. As it goes around, it builds atop itself, thus, it is not static. Each time it returns to any given point, it is also lifted up above that point. There is no power in the static wheel. For it to find direction, it must be pushed or pulled. All progress is measured in contact with the road.

The planting is always a mixture of food and filth, but come harvest time, the wheat stands above the filth of the field. The union of worldly opposites must always include the element of defilement.

No matter how often you mix pure water with bad, you will never produce a single drop of clean water. Yet, it is from the tainted water that we may filter the purified elixir that sustains life. With a little guess work on my part, Philip puts it this way: Now the existence of the world [is the image of power], and the existence of [power is purified in] marriage. Think of the [worldly] relationship, for it possesses [no purity, no] power. Its image consists of a defilement.

I can neither confirm nor validate what Philip asserts here. As a seeker, however, I am inclined to work with it. If there is an understanding to be achieved, that is a treasure worth the blisters. So, I lay my hand to the spade.

The forms of evil spirit include male ones and female ones.

As always, my claim is that the words 'spirit' and 'mind' are interchangeable. I take this, then, to mean an evil mind-set. The spirit finds its form in either the man or the woman.

It is a way of thinking that permeates the bearer with untoward longing.

The males are they which unite with the souls which inhabit a female form, Curiously, Philip places the evil male spirit in the female form. Let's take a moment to scratch our collective head. Maleness in femaleness. I think, and this is only me, the male evil spirit is the thing that occupies the woman's mind. It is the mental image of the possibility. It is the square peg she turns over and over in an attempt to fit into a round hole. It is an obsession. but the females are they which are mingled with those in a male form, through one who was disobedient.

Normally, after such a consideration as I put forward above, one might naturally think that it would be just about the same for the female evil spirit in the male form: an obsessive longing. However, Philip makes a distinction between the two evil actions, as denoted by the word 'but'.

'Unite' and 'mingle' are not that different as concepts go, but the long form of Philip's assertion gives us more to work with: “but the female evil spirits are they which are mingled with the evil spirits in the male form.� The long form shows us that two opposing spirits join in some way before they enter a form and begin the evil work.

The addendum: “through one who was disobedient� is important, as it places a prior cause on the ethereal landscape. One cannot escape the implication of original sin through disobedient Eve. We may be more forgiving of Eve than those of Philip's day and age, but we note the importance of original sin in their thinking.

However it boils down, we come to two mind-sets that affect the behavior of those so possessed. According to Philip, it is a natural mind-set of all who do not possess either the bride or bridegroom mind-set. Here, we see a distinction between two sets of male and female minds. We gain also some insight into the differentiation between evil spirits on the one hand, and 'powers' on the other hand.

And none shall be able to escape them, since they detain him if he does not receive a male power or a female power, the bridegroom and the bride.

One receives the power of the married mindset just as Philip states below. The worldly bridal chamber is a reflection of the spiritual union of opposites, and necessarily includes the qualities of holiness and sanctification. The mind-set of the bride and the mind-set of the bridegroom are intimately joined; they are one, united, stronger, higher.

Powers united, they may resist the lesser mind-sets of fleshly obsessive longing.

One receives them from the mirrored bridal chamber.

What follows may be considered by some as no more than natural. It is reasoned that we are physical beings, that all such creatures have their beginnings in the act of sex. Sex is a natural constituent of such an existence. Know, therefore, that an act is just an act; no importance is placed upon it. The importance is placed upon the spirit or power attached to the act. In the case of evil mind-sets, importance is placed on the words: 'wanton' and 'lecherous'. These are not the normal mind-sets associated with sexual activity, they are excessive, obsessive extremes.

When the wanton women see a male sitting alone, they leap down on him and play with him and defile him. So also the lecherous men, when they see a beautiful woman sitting alone, they persuade her and compel her, wishing to defile her.

These mind-sets are akin to the 'dog-eat-dog' mind-set, the 'bully' mind-set, the mind-set of the 'pedophile', or any other mind-set that preys upon, uses, or abuses those that are weaker or less adept. It is the mind of a loathsome creature lurking in the shadows, able only to incorporate what cannot resist. The united mind-set not only resists, but fights back.

But if they see the man and his wife sitting beside one another, the female cannot come into the man, nor can the male come into the woman.

There is a point to all this. Philip portrays man (any man, any woman) as the image, the form. What are we the image of? Canon tells us we are the image and glory of God. Interestingly, he goes on to show that intimate union is both the planting and harvest of

the angelic mind-set. That is the fruit of God's work, the power each man and woman must attain to, and the point to which mankind must ever return.

So if the image and the angel are united with one another, neither can any venture to go into the man or the woman.

In his meditations on the union of opposites, Philip goes a step further in his bold assertions. It is important for those of us who seek the same understanding to slow down, and patiently absorb his writing word for word.

What follows in the thinking of Philip is indeed a tasty treat, but we must not be so rash as to swallow both meat and bone. We must pull the tender flesh from the bone, taking small portions for our edification. In other words, the wording must be picked apart, and before we cast the bone aside, we must be sure we've taken all we can from it.

As long as it is hidden, wickedness is indeed ineffectual, but it has not been removed from the midst of the seed of the Holy Spirit.

The above points to truths meant for hungry pickers like us. After the bone is tossed, what remains on our plate? I will attempt to work backward from the main thought. The main thought is that the Holy Spirit (at least in men) is a thing that begins as a seed, then grows. It develops into what it is.

From that main thought follows the notion that the seed contains not only holiness, but its opposite: wickedness. Philip speaks of the planted seed of holiness in which wickedness is hidden, that is to say: suppressed, but not removed. This seed may be explained in clearer terms.

Within a man, God plants the mind of God. Within that mind, is that mind's own opposite. The host of that mind has two possible directions from which to choose. If the opposite of God is suppressed, it become ineffectual. If God is suppressed, he becomes ineffectual. This follows natural law: light is the absence, or suppression of darkness, while darkness is the absence, or suppression of light.

A man may attain to much by the suppression of wickedness. With good thoughts and good intents, a man may become moral, just, philanthropic, an emissary of peace.

However, that wickedness is ever present, it is only hidden, not removed. Therefore, man will remain the animal he is. His evil lies just beneath the skin. A 'good' man can make mistakes and miscalculations. A 'good' man can justify a bad cause with good intent. The suppressed wickedness can at times bubble up through the cracks, and a good man can be subverted to great evil.

They are slaves of evil.

So the mind of God is a seed that is planted in a man, and must develop, a seed that bears within itself the potential of not developing at all. We must keep in mind that the

one who plants hopes for a harvest. Imagine God as a farmer with a bag of seeds. He plants them knowing any one of them may develop into a sterile weed, or not at all. But he holds out hope for the amber grain with which he will make his bread.

Also, we know that no farmer plants his seed and then just leaves it on its own. He tends the field, providing those things the seeds depend on for development. One of those things is light.

In our case, the 'man-field', our implanted seed of light carries within its core the element of its own failure. The wickedness that is in us is, by most, effectively suppressed. But, how do we remove it? It is always possible the implanted mind of God will never develop, and this is due to the presence of the mind that is not of God. The seed may never sprout, never see the light.

When Philip states that the wickedness is (that is to say: must be) 'revealed', that is not just revealed, but revealed for what it is. The process of removal is revealed in the word 'revealed'. To defeat an enemy, one must first define an enemy. Many people presently define the wickedness in them as natural, as free. They hold many inspiring epithets for the thing in them that works against their seed ever seeing light. They insist, however, for all their natural greatness and freedom of self will, that others of us do not accost them with simple conversation, both free and truly freeing.

Yet, some of our minds do sprout. We reach the light, and use the light to expose the dark for what it is. We embrace the removal of limitation.

But when it is revealed, then the perfect light will flow out on every one. And all those who are in it will receive the chrism.

So, comes the time when wickedness is revealed for what it really is. What happens? I can answer that question with another question. Who points to the Yin? Answer: the Yin's own Yang. No one points out the loser better than the winner. No one sends the night packing like the light of dawn. What Philip contemplates above are the actual spiritual mechanics of personal salvation, enlightenment, and ascension.

Important stuff.

The perfect light within us points to the absolute blackness within us. It exposes the darkness, and not only shows it for what it is, but shows us our victory and its defeat.

This is not a thing that is easily hidden. In the past, man was limited by the night; he waited for the rising sun where, with the rising, he too rose up and moved about freely.

Like the spreading of dawn light, the perfect light realized in one may also be seen, felt, and incorporated by those nearby.

This is the chrism, the moment when the planted seed pushes up out of the black dirt and

is joined to the sustaining light from above. Slaves to the night are set free by the light.

One may call out to his neighbor, 'come out, the sun is up'.

Then the slaves will be free and the captives ransomed.

So now, back to spiritual mechanics. A spiritual God plants a spiritual seed in the black dirt of a non-spiritual creature. Will it sprout? Will God receive a harvest? What is the wickedness in the midst of the seed? How does the seed in one individual affect the seed in another individual?

The seed is spiritual, and therein lies the answer. A spiritual seed is not planted in the flesh of a man, but in the spirit of a man. The planted seed is not just a spirit, but 'The' spirit. Here is the difference: the planted seed is what is intended to grow up into the Holy Spirit: that is to say, into the mind of God. The mind of God is the mind of a spiritual being not dominated by the flesh. The spirit of a man is a mind that is dominated by the flesh and its passions. The mind of man is the 'wickedness' that is found in the midst of the seed of the Holy Mind.

The planting is a synthesis of two minds, and ultimately, the victorious mind will expose the mind of failure for what it is. Philip used the canon to justify his argument; he pointed to one verse in particular: "Every plant which my father who is in heaven has not planted will be plucked out." (Mt 15:13) It may be stipulated, without contention, that the synthesis of opposites is a union named 'one'. It is as if the very nature of their opposition is a quality designed for union. We have a saying: 'different as night and day'. Indeed, night and day are total opposites, but you will never find one without the other. The man and the woman are polar opposites, but they seem designed for union. Every question is a cup meant to be filled with an answer. Philip's stand is this: Those who are separated will unite [as one. Want seeks provision,] and will be filled.

That explains the synthesis of opposing spirits. They were separated, but they will unite.

The union will produce a result. The spirit with something to offer will fill the spirit that is in need. However, we should keep in mind that the field must be prepared, that is to say: opened for the farmer's seed. The mouth of the infant must open to the breast, and the bride must open to the bridegroom. It is always the case: the night opens to the swelling dawn, and without hesitation, the light presses in.

Philip compares the natural union of opposites to the spiritual union of opposites. The mystery of the natural union is that it is closed off and hidden to those outside of the bridal chamber. Except for a fire kindled within, all would be darkness inside as well,

but to the bride and bridegroom, the mystery is dispelled by the application of light.

Newlyweds, by the application of light, may see where the parts fit together, and will work out how best to proceed.

Every one who will enter the bridal chamber will kindle the light, for [the bridegroom lights a fire for the bride,] just as in the marriages which are [natural, and] happen at night. That fire [is kindled] only at night, and is put out.

Every natural union may be guessed at by those who stand outside the chamber. Advice is passed down from the seasoned to the inexperienced. Even those outside the experience share the information. Still, it is a secretive matter. It excludes all but the two and the small flame they alone share for the night.

The mysteries of the superior union are another matter altogether. Philip declares the higher union to be the total opposite of the worldly union. Whereas the worldly union is exclusive, the spiritual union is inclusive, and open to all. All things about that union proceed in the open, exposed by the light. The light is not put away, because it is the higher spiritual light of knowledge. It is an unending radiance under which all may be united.

But the mysteries of that marriage are perfected rather in the day and the light. Neither that day nor its light ever sets.

The union, though spiritual, is to each individual, living and real; it is a thing that may only be received on a personal level. It is not the union itself, but an addition to the union – that is to say: each physical individual is added to the union through the light. If you receive the light, you receive the union. If you receive the union, you receive the light. Philip, here, places the individual recipient of the union neither as a bride nor a bridegroom, but rather as a son, by which we understand him to mean: the result of the union.

If anyone becomes a son of the bridal chamber, he will receive the light.

This is a common theme of thought among thinkers of that time. It is inclusive to the point that all may become sons of the Bridal Chamber through adoption. Know, here, that no adoption can take place if one of the two parties is unwilling. As humans, we constantly adopt the thoughts, sentiments, words, and actions of those around us. This process of adoption is what connects us. Likewise, when we speak of parents adopting a son, we mean by that a process whereby the son also adopts the parents.

On the son's part, what, we ask, is the machinery of that adoption? What does the son actually receive to become that son? For the answer to that, we turn to the canon. John 1:12 tells us this about adoption: “But as many as received him, to them gave he power to become the sons of God, even to them that believe on his name:� .

To be a son of God, one need only believe on the name of God. To be a son of the Bridal Chamber, one need only believe. What does it mean, then, to believe on the name of God? What does it mean to adopt, or receive, the Bridal Chamber? The Bridal Chamber is inclusive, is perfected in a light that never sets. Believe in that and you are a son of the Bridal Chamber.

To become a son of God, one must adopt, not a sound or a written word but, the actual name of God. One must adopt who God is, what he does. One must adopt his very nature, his way of thinking, just as we normally adopt the thoughts, sentiments, words, and actions of those around us. We connect with God by adopting his thoughts, sentiments, words, and actions as our own.

Anyone who ever knew my Dad, may see him in me. I have a habit of paying my bills before I buy my groceries. I got that from Dad. I turn off the heater at night; I close and lock doors behind me – just a couple of things I picked up from him. I comb my hair like he did, I use idioms and expressions he used, I even sing the little ditties he used to sing.

One must receive in himself (adopt) the whole mind of God. That is believing on the name. Likewise, to believe on the name of the only begotten son of God, Jesus Christ, is to adopt the thoughts, sentiments, words, and actions of Jesus as your own. Our connections and conversations with those around us depend on all parties having certain things in common: the way we talk, shared behavior, standards and norms. We do not accomplish these links before or after our associations with those around us, only during.

Just as we only have one opportunity to connect with those we know on a daily basis, our opportunity to receive the mind of God is found here and now. The light of that mind never sets; it is communicated through many mediums. If there is a Bible in your home, that is a communication, an opportunity, a light. If someone communicates God to you, a rejection of the message is a rejection of the one who sent it via the messenger.

The things I learned from my Dad serve me well. I learned them while he was present.

The things we normally pick up from others help us navigate a shared existence. That shared, and mutually inclusive nature is a light that guides us. What we share is a knowledge of ourselves and others as one, proceeding as a whole. The guiding light of shared knowledge is ever-present, but only in the present.

If anyone does not receive it while he is here, he will not be able to receive it in the other place.

We see a nature invested by the light, and it may well have been a nature that Philip saw in others – saw with his own eyes. Certainly, the invested nature changed how many people approached persecution and death as a Christian, but Philip looks deeper than the

unperfected Christian – casting his eye, rather, to the perfected Christ within.

Certain Biblical verses corroborate this nature in Christ, pointing out that had his enemies truly seen him, they would have been like him, and thus, no longer his enemies.

What they saw, all they were able to make out, was an individual fashioned in their own image. Many times they attempted to detain Christ, but he walked through their midst and went on his way. Jesus outwitted them in their own arguments. Finally, scripture points out that even in his physical suffering, there was no torment: he forgave his captors from the cross.

He who will receive that light will not be seen, nor can he be detained. And none shall be able to torment a person like this, even while he dwells in the world.

While Jesus came from the truth, and is identified as the truth, the invested nature within each of us, in its perfection, perfects us, and enables each of us toward the truth. The beginning of our spiritual ascension is, admittedly, found in our non-spiritual and very human condition. A beginning is just that: a beginning, but it is also a direction, and it is also a momentum. A frog has legs while a tadpole has not, but the tadpole is a beginning.

And again when he leaves the world, he has already received the truth in the images.

The frog is the 'fullness' for the tadpole, albeit as yet incomplete, but make no mistake – legs are in the works. Wings are the 'fullness' for the caterpillar who has received in itself the truth of wings: they are in the works. Truth in our present image is the promise of a higher, more developed nature. Who are we really? We shall soon find out.

The world has become the Aeon (eternal realm), for the Aeon is fullness for him.

While many of us actively seek that fullness, none of us expect to see it in other people, for it is a personal issue. It is the innermost self who longs for such completion. The individual tadpole has frog legs hidden within it; the caterpillar has wings hidden within it. Science is able to penetrate the dark mysteries of the image to show us just where those promises are set to develop.

The Jesus within each of us will be discovered in similar fashion, but it is not for science to point that out. Who will show us, I wonder? Jesus is not a promise that is dark or mysterious; he is hidden, rather, in full disclosure.

This is the way it is: it is revealed to him alone, not hidden in the darkness and the night, but hidden in a perfect day and a holy light.

Directions

Our present western culture has a saying that points to the natural consequence of a matter: it states, 'a body in motion tends to stay in motion while a body at rest tends to remain at rest.' That is a directional statement. Philip, too, made such directional observations. What Philip says below may be summed up as: 'one in life tends to stay in life while one in death tends to remain in death.'

Even as the body may change direction between activity and rest, an individual may change direction between life and death. Whether life or death, each case is governed by its own rules of natural consequence.

In the statement that follows, Philip contrasts slavery against freedom. He displays the dual polarity of the matter, painting an image of 'either or'. He shows us that one may be in one or the other, that an individual may rest in one or strive toward the other. The thing I take from this is that an individual's attention can be upon one extreme only, and that secondary issues do not enter the primary formula.

The slave seeks only to be free, but he does not hope to acquire the estate of his master.

There is a formula for the slave that is set, not by his desires, but rather, by reality itself.

He may remain a slave, or he may strive toward freedom. No other possibilities will present themselves until after the prospect of freedom is obtained. Upon completion of liberty, the possibilities of a life and autonomy open up.

The chain reaction of possibility – or, that each possibility is a locked door that may be opened (a hard-won victory) to reveal yet another locked door. As formulas go, they are I think, defined by their polarity. Philip points to two individuals that inhabit the same house, yet, they are not the same.

Polarity-wise, they are opposites. One is bound, the other is free. One is a son and inheritor, the other is not. It follows that the formula for the son and inheritor may be somewhat the opposite of the formula for the slave.

The son rests in freedom from the beginning, and does not need to strive for it. The possibilities of life and autonomy are already present with the son. These parameters are inside the formula for the son, and outside the formula for the slave. For the son, these matters are less like locked doors, and more like natural developments.

But the son is not only a son but lays claim to the inheritance of the father.

So the house, and all its content, all its value, is set and maintained by the householder and father. The son, by the father's determination and natural desire, is set to inherit all that the father has set and has maintained. The slave simply does not fall under the father's determination and natural desire, as these are reserved for the son by default.

The servant may inherit nothing from the householder and father – except, perhaps, more servitude. The slave must be set free from service to even begin to possess property and standing. Should he accomplish that, it still is not the same: it is less substance for more work.

What is there for a slave set free? To live on his own requires working for others. If he considers this his inheritance, he has merely inherited a different kind of servitude. He still has a master, and all his possessions and standing are tainted by that fact – they will never be as glorious as the possessions and standing of the inheritor son.

The two formulas are like oil and water. The free son inherits more freedom. The son of wealth inherits wealth. The slave, even free, inherits more slavery. The opposition of these two polarities is, itself a formula. Every polarity is governed by its own law of natural consequence. After this model, we may also determine that the popular inherit popularity, the hungry inherit hunger, the living inherit life, and the dead inherit death.

Those who are heirs to the dead are themselves dead, and they inherit the dead.

When the son inherits the father's house, all of the father's possessions come with it, including the slave. When this truth is used as a model for life and death, for spirituality and worldliness, the differences in those around us become clear. The son is life, the son is spirituality: the formula for the son begins with freedom and possession. The law of natural consequence that governs him is a law of natural development, promise, and timely procession. His formula is a framework that includes the father's standing and possessions. The possessions of the father may list many who are indentured, indebted, and in servitude.

Those who are heirs to what is living are alive, and they are heirs to both what is living and the dead.

Again, with the model applied to life and death, to spiritual as opposed to worldly, the dead can inherit no more of life than the slave his master's house. The worldly can claim no more of spiritual ascension than the slave his master's wealth.

The dead are heirs to nothing. For how can he who is dead inherit?

The law of natural consequence, as regards the spiritually alive, sets the framework. This individual is set to assume ownership of the world: a possession that does not belong to the worldly but is, rather, their defining framework, as it must be recognized that the worldly do not contain the world; the world contains the worldly.

I began this section with the saying “a body in motion tends to stay in motion; a body at rest tends to remain at rest�. It is a worldly expression of a higher truth. The road that one finds oneself on has a destination that is set and definite. Life leads to life; death leads to death. The choosing of, and practice of, worldliness will never have a spiritual direction.

Our poor slave, while he was considering freedom, was inherited by the son, along with all the other possessions of the father. Had he strove a bit harder and won his freedom, he might have gone out into the world and worked for a living: selling himself to new masters for paltry coins. He may have convinced himself of independence and

autonomy, but it was the son who wound up with a grand house, many possessions, and celebrated status.

However, what if we suppose that the householder loved his slave as much as his son?

What if the father adopted the slave and gave him a place beside his natural son? The focus of the former servant would no longer be on freedom, as that was a gift.

Opportunities would no longer be locked doors leading to locked doors, rather, they would be matters of timely procession, onward and upward, to the inheritance.

If he who is dead inherits what is living he will not die, but he who is dead will live even more.

Continuing with the comparison between slave and successor, Philip has two final thoughts. The first deals solely with bondage; the second deals only with the right of succession.

Imagine a man who has been a slave most of his life. While freedom seems desirable, bondage is all he knows. Suddenly, his master sets him free, with the injunction to go and spend the remainder of his life as a free man.

The man has two choices before him. One choice involves matters with which the man has no experience. In order for him to live freely, he must learn freedom. This choice places the man at great disadvantage, as it is a long hard road to that particular goal. It is a choice that demands of him much sacrifice.

Failing that, the man will revert to the one thing he knows will work: slavery. At least that way, he will not go hungry. His old master saw a man who desired freedom, his new master sees a man who desires to be a slave.

He who is a slave against his will, will be able to become free. He who has become free by favor of his master, and has sold himself into slavery, will no longer be able to be free.

A story was told to me of a man who lived in my grand father's time. He could neither read nor write. He had worked for years at a local lumber mill, where at the end of each week they paid him ninety-five cents in odd coins. One day, he heard of a mill in another valley that paid a dollar each week. He thought: “Oh, wow! More money.� So, he quit his old job and went to work for the other mill. At the end of the first week, they promptly dropped a shiny new silver dollar into his open hand. It all sounded so good a week before, but the man had no experience with silver dollars. He quit the new job and went back to the old where he got more coins.

In contrast to bondage, the free son has everything at the beginning. He does not have to strive for something new, or different, or more – he already has it. It belongs to him through the right of succession. The father desires to leave everything to his son, but like the slave, and like the laborer in my story, the son has no experience with such things.

The young son faces a time in the future when all will be his, but in the meantime, the father has determined that the son must first learn the way of things.

What the father possesses belongs to the son, and the son himself, so long as he is small, is not entrusted with what is his. But when he becomes a man, his father gives him all that he possesses.

Philip uses the slave and the successor as models to explain higher issues. On the higher spiritual plain of our existence, any one of us may be seen to possess either the mind of a slave or the mind of a successor. Every one of us desires what the successor possesses, but only the successor is actually moving in that direction. At one point and in a certain sense, the son is no different than the slave, but on the spiritual plain, the son chooses a different direction. The son becomes the son by choosing to learn of the father, what the father offers, and how to act responsibly with all that he will inherit.

Separatism The philosophy that Philip has espoused so far has shown us many wonderful things. It is not a philosophy particular to this one individual, but rather, must be seen as a development in the thinking, of a particular age and culture, to which Philip was affiliated.

Many people, through many ages, have attempted to sleuth out the higher meaning of things, and in that regard, what belonged to those ages and cultures belong to ours as well.

What we have sought equally with Philip includes the assumptions he used as beginning points of inquiry, the definitions he employed, the differences between opposites (said opposites being joined at the hip), comparisons of all kinds, connections of things generally held to be independent of one another, the union of opposites, and the directions we may choose.

Now, Philip's philosophy drops the two-sided coin to examine what their age and culture held to be absolutely separate.

A constant theme in early thinking drew along the line that divided upper from lower, better from worse, the will of the spirit from the will of the flesh, etc. This theme can be seen quite plainly in the writings of Paul. In regard to the division between upper and lower, the lower was considered a mere fragment of the higher glory of reality, spread upon the Earth in various corrupted forms.

Man could gain a glimpse of the higher glory through certain names, but those words, however enlightening, were themselves nothing more than lower forms. Philip puts it

thus: Names given to the worldly are very deceptive, for they divert our thoughts from what is correct to what is incorrect.

The words that we employ for our dawning concepts of higher matters cannot, themselves, be the higher matters. Aside from being simple representations of abstracts fleetingly grasped, and retained through great labor, the words we use are invested with our emotions, contaminated with local biases, and clouded by the various brutal demands of life on this plane.

Words are further distanced from truths by the connotations attached to them. Thus, the word love can have the dark connotation of an illicit affair or sinful desire. The word God has, in fact, obtained a darker meaning in many minds, for they see God as an unfair task master, as one who demands death and destruction. Like all other words, the word God is a low-end construct, a mere form that is invested with the emotions, desires, fears, and needs of the human condition. This world is indeed a dark filter.

Thus one who hears the word "God" does not perceive what is correct, but perceives what is incorrect.

Words are inferior tools severely tested by superior truths. Such concepts, high and illuminated, will be muddied when passed through the dark filter of this world. The common understanding of all the higher concepts are darkened and thus separated through the dark filter of our inferior forms and tools. We simply are inept with our tools. We take a hammer and hit our thumb, then our thoughts are turned against that which is built, the building plan, and the architect.

Tell someone about God the Father and the Son, and it will be filtered through memories of flawed people: a father that beats his son, a stymied son filled with resentment and desperate longing to stand apart. Tell someone about life and it is filtered through a limited experience that sees a linear progression between a helpless beginning and a helpless end.

Those who are unsure of exactly what a spirit is will hardly be in a position to understand the Holy Spirit, either by written or by spoken word. The darkly filtered concept of 'Holy' becomes no more than everything man is not. It is alien, and a thing apart. When darkened, church is seen as everything but what it actually is, and blame for church related atrocities is placed on the church rather than where it belongs: on the worldly who misuse it. Philip says: So also with "the Father" and "the Son" and "the Holy Spirit" and "life" and "light" and "resurrection" and "the Church (Ekklesia)" and all the rest - people do not perceive what is correct but they perceive what is incorrect, It takes quite an effort to rise above our own natural way. Nothing will ever be seen apart from the filter. To see light for what it truly is, one must remove the filter. When

the darkness is removed, wonderful things result. Old concepts will receive brand new interpretations. That which was formerly viewed as everything not us, will be seen anew as actually the better part of all that we are. unless they have come to know what is correct.

Problem is: the words get dark and twisted. The problem rests in the very words we speak, the thoughts we think. We are a people, after all, who speak and think in reverse.

Our low-end language has us putting on our shoes first, and then our socks. We hear the thunder before the lightning strikes. That is how we say it, and so, we contaminate our own thoughts.

Where does a person begin to address such a deeply rooted problem? He will begin with himself. He will ultimately need to change the way he thinks and communicates. He will need to use worldly forms differently. He may no longer say God as the world says God. He may no longer say Father as if of one who deprives and overrides. Son must now be used as if of one who longs to come closer to the Father rather than to go farther away.

Holy Spirit may no longer mean contrary and disconnected, alien, unnatural.

The names which are heard are in the world [, and they] deceive.

Early thinking included a natural separation of concepts, due in great part to the limited capacity of communication, and the wisdom of separatism has infiltrated the thinking of man as far as into our modern age. We think that you can be one or the other, but not both. For example, common complaints against Christians include such expressions as: 'you can't be a Christian if you smoke', or, 'you can't be a Christian if you drink'. Untrue.

Both smoke and drink are words owned by the world, used by the world. The word Christian is also owned by the world, being used however the world chooses. The actual truth of the Christian nature does not rest in the word, neither is it owned by the world.

If they were in the Aeon (eternal realm), they would at no time be used as names in the world. Nor were they set among worldly things. They have an end in the Aeon.

Like all men of wisdom, Philip realized that there is more to man than meets the eye.

Our great potential shines out through the cracks. Thoughts of the spirit of man have, in past treatments, been placed above the flesh as more valuable. It has been seen as a great treasure that one hides, and stands guard over.

Where, and how, would one accomplish such a slight of hand? We recall the treasure 'hidden in the field'. We recall the pearl of great price, but how are we to see the truth of a thing so precious that it is hidden? Understandably, many people have buried their wealth in coffee cans. Things we wish not to be taken from us, we hide in places others do not explore. The treasure that was buried in the field was stumbled upon quite accidentally.

What about the pearl? It was larger and grander by far than all the smaller pearls which the merchant had traded for his bigger prize. In saying that, we must realize that the

smaller pearls were equal in value to the one larger pearl. It's just a matter of opinion which seems the better. For purposes of hiding, the smaller pearls would not only be easier to hide, but could be hidden in many places, thus increasing the chance that if one was found and stolen, the others would still be safe.

But where, and how, to hide a larger item! Many small pearls could be hidden easily in many small places, if one decided to hide them in the home, close to hand for ease of access. A larger pearl would need to be hidden in something bigger – but then, that is an obvious fact. To hide the larger pearl successfully, or to bury it in a field, would also reduce its accessibility to the owner.

Moreover, to hide a large pearl at home might necessitate its placement in something of value. Should the pearl be lost, the valuable hiding place could be lost with it. How many thieves are we aware of, in our own time, who have taken the whole damn safe, or yanked the register intact from the counter?

No one will hide a large valuable object in something large, Imagine that a man came home with two valuable acquisitions. One, he placed in a prominent display on his shelf. The other, he accidentally dropped into a trash can.

While he retraced his steps to find his lost treasure, a thief broke into his home and overturned it. When the man returned, he discovered the treasure on the shelf had been stolen. Then, he happened to find the treasure he dropped in the trash. His worthless dust bin, which he found at a yard sale for a quarter, had suddenly become worth much more because of what it hid from the thief. but many a time one has tossed countless thousands into a thing worth a penny.

The revered is hidden in the reviled. Should we prominently display the one thing that gives us value, it will be taken from us and trampled under foot. Why do I say that?

Imagine the thief who finds he has stolen something he cannot fence. Imagine the dog that takes an empty plate from the table because it smells of blood. Imagine the swine that comes upon a pearl in its slop.

Compare the soul. It is a precious thing and it came to be in a contemptible body.

Conversely, Imagine the small amount of yeast that, according to the parable, was divided among the three lumps of dough. It made the dough rise, and then each small lump was combined with the others, so that the net result was an elevation of the whole.

Within the philosophical musings on separatism, early thought placed certain concepts exclusively in their own slots – kind of like reserved parking. Even though, in a parking lot, another car is just another car, and even though the spaces are not truly separate, but connect one to another, a reserved space exists for one car in particular.

In this manner, early thought could treat man and the spirit within as a whole, while simultaneously holding the spirit as higher and separated by worthiness and value. In a

parking lot of two spaces, the spiritual Audi sits in the reserved and honored space, separate from the physical clunker.

According to such a premise, the separate placement of the higher into its own reserved space is the thing that lifts and sanctifies the whole. In Jewish ceremonial rituals, certain elements were reserved for the elevation of the whole, and by those elements all that was held to be common or low was purified and elevated.

Two elements used in said rituals were fire and water. Through the application of these elements, that which was undesirable could be washed away or burned away, leaving only what was considered to be the best. The practice did not culminate in itself; it did not end in the physical – the whole was considered. In other words, the actual physical fire and water existed on two separate planes.

While those plains were a whole, the abstract and invisible counterparts got the reserved parking space. Philip's argument is that physical water washes clean, while spiritual water washes cleaner.

It is through water and fire that the whole place is purified - the visible by the visible, the hidden by the hidden.

Another key element in Jewish ritual, for the purpose of sanctification, was salt. One may recall that in the early history of the Hebrews, there was an immense amount of sacrifice. Animals perished by the thousands, and we, today, are left wondering about the purpose of it all.

That purpose was sanctification. A sacrifice had its common and low qualities washed and burned away; the remainder was elevated. Salt was added, and it was good. All of that was done with the spiritual counterparts in mind. Within the actual fire, there was believed to be the higher, more vital truth of fire, of which physical fire was a mere image. The same view was held for water and salt.

The invisible water was held in such regard that even the son of God insisted on being baptized. The importance of spiritual fire and salt can be clearly viewed in the words of Jesus, found in the gospel of Mark.

Mark 9:49 and 50 says this, “For everyone shall be salted with fire, and every sacrifice shall be salted with salt. Salt is good: but if the salt have lost his saltness, wherewith will ye season it? Have salt in yourselves, and have peace one with another.”

When Jesus tells his disciples to have salt inside, he is speaking of a sacrifice that sanctifies, that elevates. He points to the spiritual part of the whole man. When it is said later in the new testament: “Quench not the Spirit,” said spirit is (and I surmise that the capital 'S' references the Holy Spirit) referred to as a fire, perhaps the same sacrificial fire that everyone will be salted with.

There are some things hidden through those visible. There is water in water, there is fire in chrism.

Name-ism In Philip's day and age, great stock was placed in the very utterance or writing of a word.

It was a philosophical mind-set I call name-ism. Name-ism presupposes a certain power and connection to spiritual truth through the name, which was held to be an image of a spiritual reality. For instance, when they spoke the word 'water', that image in the real world had a set connection to a truth on a plain that was more real than real. The use of the word 'God' carried with it the power and nature of God, as the word was a physical expression of an invisible reality.

Some of the older writings seem wasted on the modern mind for just this reason; to us, words are just words. The world will always set such works aside. The modern mind of science, and the so-called mind of reason, will only find reasons to exclude such works.

There was a time, for example, when reasoning men of science rejected the existence of meteorites. You may read of this in The Books of Charles Fort; rocks simply did not fall from the sky. When rocks did fall from the sky, they explained away the fact based on what they, alone, found reasonable.

So it is with words. The mind set that calls itself science or reason may only explain away such troublesome issues, and we suspect they will never really understand another person's point of view. For those who wish to understand what a Philip, or a Thomas, are talking about, placing oneself inside the older mindset is the most necessary and fundamental aspect of their research. It is just as much a necessary tool as, for example, a telescope is to an astronomer.

Philip says: A Hebrew makes another Hebrew, and such a person is called "proselyte".

When speaking of a convert to Judaism, a proselyte is identified as a stranger, or someone representative of a place less focused. The Hebrew is a focused state, that is, not everything together, but one specific thing. That is a state achieved by the basic cognitive process of discrimination. From the Hebrew point of view, one is brought up from the muddle, and all the hindrances to Judaism are brushed away, making an individual who is able to live in one specific manner.

But a proselyte does not make another proselyte.

The word 'Hebrew' carries with it just such a power. 'Proselyte' has less power as a word.

Imagine, if you will, a group of sitting men, and in their midst is one man standing. The standing man has the power to help any of the others to their feet whereas those who are

seated do not. Tug as they will, they remain seated. So it is with the proselyte: he remains a member of the muddle, and since all others at his level are already like him, there is a fundamental inability to convert another to muddle-ism, much less to Judaism.

[There are some who truly live, and they have the power to make others live] just as they [do,] and make others like themselves, while others simply exist.

From the canon, we get the impression that redemption is a broad concept that covers much. Our modern inclination is not toward investing words with their own power, like those in Philip's day were inclined to do, but, we cannot successfully study Philip without that inclination. To understand what he is trying to say, we must see each word as he saw them: each in its own place, and with a focus all its own.

Below, Philip employs three words, each with a unique influence and world-moving power. Philip breaks down the Christ plan for us, and our understanding of that plan will hinge upon his employment of those three words. If we insist on perceiving each word as equal to the others, we will miss his point altogether, so, let us think like Philip.

Philip's first word: Christ came to ransom some, Let us begin with a firm grasp on the concept. I take this from Wikipedia: In Judaism ransom is called kofer-nefesh (Hebrew: ‫)כפר נפש‬. Among other uses, the word was applied to the poll tax of a half shekel to be paid by every male above twenty years at the census. We may take it to mean, then, a type of extortion. It is not everyone who is held for ransom, but those of value.

That fact, alone, tells us two things. One: The extortioner holds something he believes another sees as valuable enough to pay for, and two: the extortioner demands a payment in a medium that is valuable to him.

Word two: to save others, Save differs from ransom, not necessarily in context, but certainly in connotation.

Imagine the man who must pay ransom for a loved one. He draws money from his bank account and prepares to convey it into the extortioner's possession. In the process, the FBI discovers the whereabouts of the kidnapped person, and goes in to rescue that person physically. There is a clear connotative difference between paying and rescuing.

The third word: to redeem others.

Lets go back to the old west – at least to recollections of the western movie mindset.

Here is the scenario: a young woman is kidnapped by an Indian tribe. She bears a halfbreed child. It is discovered where she is, but to the average white man, she is now unclean. She has no value to white society. For a brother, or a father, or especially a boyfriend or husband to receive her back would mean the reinstatement of prior value.

By the letter, redeem can mean the same thing as ransom, or save, but in a connotative sense, redeem means to give someone their former value.

Therefore, the three words employed by Philip are unique to themselves. They are separate and distinct in their meanings, and they play separate and distinct roles in the concept of mankind's elevation. Philip explains each word below.

He ransomed those who were strangers and made them his own.

This notion goes back to that of the proselyte. Those ransomed were part of the general muddle: they were common, they were profane. They were outside, apart, and different, but the very concept of a ransom necessitates the realization that the common were once the special, that those outside were once on the inside, that the apart and different were once one and the same.

So, what exactly are we talking about here? Did the world kidnap the spirit? By asking such a question, I must include all individuals and institutions with an inclination toward worldliness, or against spirituality. By the same token, we may see that those with such an inclination must believe in the one whom they extort, and in the value of what they have taken. We may be sure their demand is not for a spiritual payment, but rather, they seek a payment in a medium that is of personal value to a worldly mindset.

Let us say, then, that God pays the world a worldly ransom and buys back His spirit. The world cannot destroy the spirit, therefore, it is to their advantage to be free of the burden.

All spirit, and spiritual concepts, including those individuals who adhere to spiritual concepts, are rejected by the world. Those who belong to God stand alone.

Now, Philip springs a new word – 'pledge' – on us, and we are responsible to know just how and where it fits into the plan. It is an important word; here is the definition: 1 A solemn promise or agreement to do or refrain from doing something: a pledge not to wage war, for example.

2 To bind by or as if by a pledge.

And he set his own apart, those whom he gave as a pledge according to his plan.

There has always been an uneasy compromise between the spiritual and the worldly. The world seeks advantage, but not at the price demanded by the spirit. While the world can

accept the pledge given by the spirit, they are wholly unwilling to offer a pledge of their own. In this regard, one may see that it was the pledge of God that was held for ransom.

God's pledge was a spiritual people set apart as a beacon of spirituality. Those spiritual people have suffered many abuses during their bondage among the worldly. They have been killed, enslaved, misused, accused, and denied to this very day. No matter the abuse, the pledge of God has been ever-present, and cannot be destroyed.

What has the world demanded for return of the captive? My best guess is 'free will'. The world grandly declares, 'you may have what is yours, only let us be autonomous; shine your beacon elsewhere'. As in a movie, the two parties may be imagined meeting at a halfway point on a bridge to make the exchange.

It is another agreement, and in making such, God leaves a pledge – the same pledge, in fact. The world, drunk on the dark wine of their imaged victory, release the pledge, but the pledge will not go away.

In our so called enlightened age of free will, former abuses may not stand, and therefore, there is but one abuse to fall back on – that is, to shun and ignore the pledge. There is a policy of avoidance at all cost, and cost them it does. Long avoidance of the weight of the pledge reduces the strength necessary to stand upright under lesser weights. Soon enough they will not even be able to hold themselves up.

Lest we forget the main point of Philip's words, we must be mindful that Philip is speaking about the coming of Christ, and three actions that Christ took. First is the action of 'ransom' – Christ paid a price. He paid that price willingly because he loved his own, and would have them back.

Philip invests the word 'ransom' with the very purpose and nature of Christ, and in so doing, also invests the nature and purpose of Christ's existence with the word's meaning.

Like a seed that, by its core nature, is already the tree it is to become (philosophically speaking) Philip explains everything in the nature of Christ as leading up to the crucial role he plays in the maintenance and elevation, or in other words: reinstatement, of mankind.

It was not only when he appeared that he voluntarily laid down his life, but he voluntarily laid down his life from the very day the world came into being.

Philip's explanation of the concept of ransom includes the concept of a pledge. It is important for us to fully understand that concept. We might do well to see it in modern terms. One simply does not, or is not allowed to, pledge something that is of no value.

Should you find yourself in a situation where you owe someone money that you do not have with you, and therefore you must leave to get it, you might find that you agree to leave something of personal value as earnest: say, your driver's license. I have found myself in such a fix at least once, as I recall.

Would you fail to return for your pledge? I warrant not. Now, what if, when you return, the holder of your pledge, knowing its value to you, trumps up some bogus line such as a 'holding fee'? Whatever it may be called, it is extortion, pure and simple.

So God, in dealing with man, found himself in a situation where he had to pay a price for what was valuable to him. He appeared in the form of a man to buy back his pledge.

Then he came first in order to take it, since it had been given as a pledge.

He did more than pay a price. He came with a plan for real and personal rescue of his pledge.

It fell into the hands of robbers and was taken captive, but he saved it.

In speaking of a pledge, we must recall that this particular pledge was everyone in whom he had pleasure: indeed, it was all of his own, who from the beginning, were of great value to him. Christ paid the price, effected the rescue, and also reinstated all former value to those sullied by the extortioners.

The act of redemption, or the action of giving back the value once held, is applied by Philip to the pledge that God had first established. Philip described that pledge as: 'his own apart'. The pledge, according to Philip, includes both good and evil people.

He redeemed the good people in the world as well as the evil.

Therefore, we may not see the good and the evil as two ends of the spectrum. That would be more of the world pressing all of us into the same generic mold. No, there is something of a higher spiritual value that all of us share, something in us that is of value to God, no matter whether we find our way or lose our way.

In the previous section, Philip spoke of the good and the evil as one, and all of them together as 'one' were once one with God, and of value as one. It was both Yin and Yang, together, who were held for ransom. If we consider that the evil in the world kidnapped what God had set apart as his own, and given as a pledge, we must then realize that the evil kidnapped themselves along with the good.

To say that Yin and Yang are joined at the hip is to see the big picture – the whole nine yards. Sure: it is an understatement, and as such, may have little value to the scientific, that is to say: picayune, mind set. Some of us, however, realize that the understatement is a powerful tool. The thought processes of us all, not just seekers, is rife with broad generalizations and generic classifications. That's just how we roll.

In life, we often flip a coin – and the outcome of some event will depend on which side of the coin turns up. As decisions go, neither heads nor tails is a complete opposite of the other: we know they are joined in the middle. Philip is not telling us anything new or revelatory when he makes the following understatements:

Light and Darkness, life and death, right and left, are brothers of one another. They are inseparable.

Of course, this is the short list; there are so many more. We are all familiar with this particular symmetry when it comes to the nature of existence. The double standard that meets happily in the center – well, that's just life. All personal experience confirms that life comes at us in twos.

But – what about the higher, itchier, issues – the ones most busy people avoid? The one who is faithful will list the faults of the non-faithful, and the one who is a non-believer will list the faults of the believer. However, according to common experience, we know that the atheist is not truly atheist, and the Christian is not truly Christian. We are aware that these seeming opposites are part of a set that is joined at the hip. Philip tells us: Because of this neither are the good good, nor evil evil, nor is life life, nor death death.

What is Philip's point? I see him as sleuthing out the nature of existence. Every single thing we may imagine includes its own opposite – and then, each of these sets may only be half of some larger set. Philip's point, I think, is much the same as that voiced in the Gospel of Thomas: 'a movement and a rest'.

Every reality meets in the center, and while one half of a whole moves toward that resolution, the other half is at rest. Each side will always dissolve into its earliest, most original state, and that would be: just slightly less than absolute: For this reason each one will dissolve into its earliest origin.

And yet, this too may be but one half of a larger set, as Philip concludes: But those who are exalted above the world are indissoluble, eternal.

In a language where words are invested with their own unique powers, it is to be expected that one name must rise above all the rest. We have examined this frame of mind; Philip and his peer's thinking is a bit clearer now. There are levels, the highest of these realities being so different from our own that they may no longer be invested with attributes related to our common experience.

When the name Jesus is used, it is invested with attributes of this world, and that is why we, being of this world, may use it. We see it as we see our bodies of flesh: a base thing that contains, a gross representation. The name Christ is likewise a base container for a higher reality, and while the container may be no less gross, the reality it contains has been scaled higher.

One may scale upwards only so far. There is a point beyond which base and gross are insufficient to carry the burden. As an example, I watched a short video once of a young man who attempted to bench press beyond his limit. One of his arms folded in a way that was painful to see. Philip speaks of a name and a reality that is so far removed from

mortal insufficiency that we may not even utter it. We know that even to this day, devout Jews refrain from uttering the name of God. Philip says: One single name is not uttered in the world, the name which the Father gave to the Son; Our linear thoughts place the name of father at one end of an array and the name of son at the other. We see each as distinct unto itself. However, some of us remember that, according to Philip's thinking, certain sets are joined in the middle, neither side of which is truly unique. Instead, each side or half is inseparable from its complement.

If Philip had asked this as a riddle: “What is the name that a father gives to a son?”, We might have taken into account that Philip would have already invested the answer with its own unique power. In retrospect, it seems incredibly simple that a father was, himself, once a son, and that the making of a son is the empowerment to ultimately become a father. The son inherits the father's name. The son inherits the father's nature. it is the name above all things: the name of the Father.

When we think of Jesus being lifted up to sit at the right hand of the power of God, we should take that next logical leap and realize that Jesus is in line to inherit that power, to take on the name of father, and engender a son of his own. We should realize that there is a process of ascendancy in play, and that the end of that ascendancy is a higher reality.

For the Son would not become Father unless he wore the name of the Father.

Let me try to explain in modern terms. A man wants more power from his car. In order to achieve that end, he replaces the original motor with an upgraded motor. I'm sure that anyone who sets their mind to it can think of examples where power is transferred, where a new nature is achieved.

Those who have this name know it, but they do not speak it. But those who do not have it do not know it.

Jesus may not be the only one who has the name and power of God. Many of us may walk in the company of Christ. Yet, here in this plane, that higher name and power are not evinced in our conversation. An example of what I mean may be seen in a simple comparison of Christ to himself. I refer to his nature, and thus his conversation. When he came as savior and teacher, his nature was just that. We have only to open the new testament to see what he talked about, and how he said it: by this, I mean to point out that he spoke from his nature, and his conversation was an accurate reflection of who he was and what he was about.

Now, compare that Christ to the one who is to come. The higher name and power of the father will be a more actualized component of his nature. He will come as a king, and his conversation will reflect that. The Christ that is to come and judge the world, by all descriptions, seems to be a totally different persona.

Let us talk about poor you. Your present conversation might be: “Someday those lottery people are gonna slip up and sell me the winning ticket.” Or it might be: “If I had your

money, and you had a knot on the head, life would be a better place.” Imagine now, how your conversation would change if your reality was suddenly upgraded to 'millionaire'.

That upgraded circumstance would totally rewrite the book on who you are; your conversation, manner, bearing – all would change, and you would know it.

After Philip sets the matter straight on the name of the son, he turns his attention to lesser names. This, then, deals with our reality, and our communication with the other side. The concept may be re-envisioned thus: The nature of truth is a two-sided coin: that is the whole thing. That whole is expressed as a set: spiritual and corporeal.

A coin has a face and a reverse: a head and a tail, if you will. The face of the coin is spirituality, and that is how it is identified – just as any coin in our experience is identified by its face. Be it a quarter, a penny, or a nickel, we know and identify its value by its face.

The face is, as I said, part of a set, or – only part of the whole. There is another side to the coin of truth, and somehow it has to connect to the face. That connection, that relationship to the face, and thus to the whole, is held in place and maintained through the side of the coin, which we will call communication. The nature of the whole is invested in the entire coin, but the coin is identified by and valued through the face.

Attributes of the reverse are set through attributes of the face. I doubt we will ever see a half dollar with a buffalo on the back.

So Philip is pointing to the reverse side of the coin when he mentions you and me. As the corporeal side, we share attributes with the spiritual face of the coin. Our relationship to the face is held in place and maintained by the whole communicating through the face. Our attributes may never be those of the face, but through names: that is to say, through reverse-side specific attributes, we may know of the face. Philip says simply: But truth brought names into existence in the world for our sakes, because it is not possible to learn it (truth) without these names.

It is interesting to note Philip's take on what the truth actually was. His notions hold certain points in common with a more universal philosophy of truth, a distillation of which is prevalent in modern thought. Those of us who are well read, Biblically speaking, will recognize the same theme from canonical texts. Truth is the whole bag of apples. One, the name of God, is the whole bag of apples. Truth, the whole truth, is the name of the son given by the father. Truth may be viewed as everything that is.

The arteries by which we arrive at truth are many. It is through a multitude of sources that we come to know and understand what the 'one' is all about. There are tens of thousands of words, spelled, pronounced, and identified separately. These combine into concepts, and concepts held in common combine into conversations.

The nature of the coin is communicated to both sides in attributes which the eye perceives as bumps and ridges on a physical surface. No one bump or ridge is ever more valuable than the others, though all may be known. While the back of the coin may

understand the bumps and ridges of the face, the bottom line is that they are only bumps and ridges.

It takes the entirety of the face to determine the value of the whole, and that is something the reverse side does not have within its power. All that is allotted to the back of the coin is that it may be valued along with the face, and that it may learn of the whole, or what it means to be 'one'.

Truth is one single thing; it is many things and for our sakes to teach about this one thing in love through many things.

In regard to the whole bag of apples, each of us may know that we are a single apple, and we may realize our own personal apple-ness, or our identity as defined by individuality. But – the whole bag is in contact with each of us, communicating what it means to be connected and whole.

What follows here is a mythos that is peculiar to Philip's day and mentality. Let us explore the concept of 'archons'. I take this from Wikipedia: The new testament several times mentions the prince of the devils, or of the (this) world, or of the power of the air; but never uses the word absolutely in any cognate sense. The true biblical source of the usage is Daniel 10:13-21, where the Archon, prince, is the patron angel of a nation, Persia, Greece, or Israel; a name (Michael) being given in the last case only.

The Book of Enoch (vi. 3, 7; viii. 1) names 20 Archons of the 200 watcher angels who sinned with the daughters of men, as appears from one of the Greek fragments. The title is not indeed used absolutely, except perhaps once, where the Ethiopic has no corresponding words: but it has evidently almost become a true name, and may account for St. Jude's peculiar use of the word.

Christians soon followed the Jewish precedent. In the 2nd century, the term appears in several writers alien to Gnosticism. The Epistle to Diognetus speaks of God sending to men a minister, or angel, or Archon. Justin understands the command in Psalms 24:7-9 to open the heavenly gates as addressed to the Archons appointed by God in the heavens.

The first spurious set of Ignatian epistles enumerates the heavenly beings and the glory of the angels and the archons visible and invisible, and again the heavenly beings and the angelic collocations and the archontic constitutions (i. e. order of provinces and of functions), things both visible and invisible; the meaning being lost by the time of the interpolator, who in one case drops the word out, and in the other gives it a political sense. The Clementine Homilies adopt and extend the N. T. usage; and further call the two good and evil (right and left) powers, which control the destiny of each man.

Prevalent in thought even into modern times, Archons are beings with authority and

power, but not necessarily with virtue. Many times in modern fiction, the Archangel Michael is portrayed as villainous and evil. Archons, then, may be viewed as a set of types: good and bad otherworldly beings who are in a relationship (a higher set) with the more down to earth set of good and bad humans. Man has long employed the word Archon for those beings, or circumstances, that seem to throw a monkey wrench in the works. The original Archon in the garden of Eden was portrayed as a sentient reptilian creature.

The Archon's jealousy of, and ill will toward, man is a theme which has endured many generations. We must examine what that jealousy and ill will says about the Archons.

Such affectations amend the general notion of their supposed power and authority. Is the issue of man one of opposing natures? Are Archons evil, and do they feel threatened by our alliance with good?

If the feeling was merely one of resentment, as if they felt man just didn't belong, we might have a more immediate grasp of the situation. However, Philip is just one voice in a very broad chorus of voices, all of them singing the same tune: these nearly almighty beings are jealous of us. They see that we have something they don't, and if they can't have it, they will seek to deprive us of it as well. They must be a pretty miserable lot to want us as fellow passengers in their sinking boat. Philip says: The rulers (archons) wanted to deceive man, since they saw that he had a kinship with those that are truly good.

Then, Philip explains just how the Archons sought to deceive man. The following process of deceit should bear out the process which began all deceit: the argument of the serpent in the Garden of Eden. What Philip is pointing to is a communication aimed at twisting things completely around. The original ploy was nothing more than the old switch-a-roo. In his argument, Satan used bad names switched for good: he convinced man that he would be a god if he adhered to an argument of opposition. Man allowed himself to become subservient to the point of view espoused by those who opposed good, thus the name of the enemy fell upon man.

They took the name of those that are good and gave it to those that are not good, so that through the names they might deceive him and bind them to those that are not good.

All that remains is a more thorough examination of the motives involved, both of the deceiver and the deceived. In the canonical account of the fall, there is a 'before' and an 'after'. Before the fall, the writer includes man's paradisaical nudity and complete lack of shame. I must assume that it was included because the writer thought it a relevant point.

The opposite is true after the fall: man feels shame as a direct and immediate result of his actions. What was the motive behind those actions? We see that man was convinced there was more to be had.

The Archon's motive seems plain enough; they were on the outside, and wanted back in.

Let us assume that the Archons were expelled from a previous relationship with those that were good, because of rebellious inclinations. The first step was to remove the new favorite from that old relationship.

There are those who are good, there is man in the grace of those who are good, and there are those who are anathema, or for all intents and purposes, dead to the relationship. I recall stories where a father disowns a son, and considers him dead: “I have no son; my son is dead�, etc. If man adopts the very nature of anathema, then man becomes anathema. If man adopts the thoughts and actions of the dead then man will certainly die as well.

As I said, that was the first step. After their deceit, what do the Archons stand to gain?

The names have been changed; the roles have been switched. Man lifts the Archons up as benefactors. Everything goes on as before, except that a connection to the good ones is lost. The evil Archons usurp their place as gods, doing good for man, and being revered. Philip says this: And afterward, what a favor they do for them! They make them be removed from those that are not good and place them among those that are good.

The Archons didn't just want what man had in their relationship with those who were good, they wanted what man offered up to those who were good. They wanted praise and worship; they wanted all of our need and all of our devotion.

These things they knew, for they wanted to take the free man and make him a slave to them forever.

It is easy to see that in Philip's time, words and names were assigned their own power, and that power influenced thought and reasoning. The paints with which an artist covers his canvas may be composed of highly localized materials, but, the work he renders is taken from something common and available to all.

Philip paints for us a portrait of our Lord in pigments specific to his day and age, but despite the medium of communication, the subject matter may be interpreted, reinterpreted, even re-imagined in bright new colors conducive to thought that does not normally invest each word or name with power.

Philip uses three words for one person. He invests each word with its own power and influence. In doing so, he not only hopes to show the direction of each power, but how they are connected in that individual. Furthermore, by explaining the elements involved in this individual, Philip identifies all individuals under his influence. He begins his argument thus: The apostles who were before us had these names for him: "Jesus, the Nazorean, Messiah", that is, "Jesus, the Nazorean, the Christ".

So, the three invested words are 'Jesus', 'Nazarene', and 'Christ'. Each word is used separately, but in a broad sense of the application, all of them are only tools used in the process of reasoning. Philip identifies them and sets each in place thus: The last name is "Christ", the first is "Jesus", that in the middle is "the Nazarene".

Next, Philip assigns each word its definition: "Messiah" has two meanings, both "the Christ" and "the measured". "Jesus" in Hebrew is "the redemption". "Nazara" is "the Truth". "The Nazarene" then, is "the Truth".

Philip is guiding our attention to this: 'redemption', 'truth', and 'measured'. After explaining the power in each name for this one individual, Philip goes on to show the connection of one man to all men. Do not miss the point that Jesus is a power invested individual. If you do, you are just playing with words.

Philip asserts that only one of the three powers of the individual is the defining aspect of his whole identity. The portion within the brackets was missing in the text. I have taken a guess at the wording based on the general flow of Philip's argument. The included material is mine alone, but you are certainly welcome to make your own guess.

"Christ" [is the standard by which man] has been measured. "The Nazarene" and "Jesus" are they who have been measured.

Note that within my guesswork, the concept of measuring is aligned with the concept of a standard. Proverbs 20:10 states: “Divers weights, and divers measures, both of them are alike abomination to the Lord.� The idea is one of a true and dependable standard.

One set of weights upon which all transactions are based.

We actually use such a standard in modern thought. When it comes to the appearance of women, '10' is the standard. Women either measure up, or they don't. Likewise, there is a standard which man, in general, must measure up to. Jesus, himself, had to measure up to it. In a sense, the defining aspect of the individual is the sum of all aspects.

Man by himself is nothing much to consider. One ingredient is not a recipe. However, if you take man and throw him in with 'redemption' and 'truth', you suddenly have a recipe.

What are we baking here, you ask? Perhaps, the bread of life.

Philip does not leave us hanging; he shows us exactly what each of these invested names are in relation to each other. If we are at all paying attention, we cannot help but see the connection of those words, both in one man, and between that one man and all others because of the power those names are invested with.

"Jesus" is a hidden name, "Christ" is a revealed name. For this reason "Jesus" is not particular to any language; rather he is always called by the name "Jesus". While as for "Christ", in Syriac it is "Messiah", in Greek it is "Christ". Certainly all the others have it according to their own language.

As an exercise in Philip-specific reasoning, let each of us assume, just for a moment, that we are the man Jesus. Within the power of our name, and by that I mean – who we are, is a nature hidden to all of us. For all intents and purposes, we stand in this exercise as nothing more than a man. But – something stirs inside. Philip tells us this: "The Nazarene" is he who reveals what is hidden.

Truth is the revealer; it is truth that stirs within. Perhaps, every seeker is actually a Nazarene. I am the acorn seeking the oak. Say it with me. I am the bud seeking the bloom. I am the sheep who seeks the shearer, the grape that seeks the wine press, the harvest which seeks the sickle of God. That Nazorean power within is both the secret nature of the inner seeker, and that which is ultimately revealed. Philip names what is to be revealed: Christ has everything in himself, whether man, or angel, or mystery, and the Father.

Of all the potential a man contains, a man is still just a man, and a man is certainly nothing much to consider. Yet, as a yeast in bread, truth rises in man – enlarging him, remaking him. As recipes go, these two ingredients are incomplete by themselves.

Combined, they are no more than contaminated elements of the world. Yeast is an infecting fungus, and grain is a mere plant which has, for a season, been in contact with the dirt, and all the pests that inhabit it.

How can these two ever reach a state of value, much more a value held prior to their current state? That is exactly where the element of redemption comes into play. The concept of redemption requires a prior value to which one may be returned. It requires a process by which that goal may unfold. In the most exacting sense, redemption is a preparation necessary for the combined elements.

As in the baking of bread, one may not simply combine wheat and yeast. Sugar is a catalyst for the yeast. Water is a necessary sub-process. Fire is a final and overall preparation of all ingredients and sub-processes.

Man, then, would be the contaminated grain in need of preparations; truth is the yeast swelling within. By combinations and processes, the man becomes what is desired of him. He attains to a former value; he becomes a whole new item – all over again.

Philip struggles with sophism, indeed, all of us struggle with it. There is an unseen aspect to man, and a relationship to the unseen, which has been belabored in man's religious and philosophical writings. The whole is divided into three parts: the powers who are good and true, the fallen powers who are dead to a previous relationship with those who are good and true, and duped man, who lost the same relationship, but still has a shot at being redeemed to that prior value.

Man came to a crossroad; he had to, essentially, choose between a good power and a bad power. He was a player at the big table, but he had no poker face, and was taken to the cleaners. Man was conned into choosing the bad power.

As a reminder, this section of the study is about words – words invested with power. At this point, let us try to envision the powers over man as words. Some have retained their goodness and truth while others are empty and void. They made a bid for independence, but the trade off was the loss of what they previously shared with those who were good and true.

Then man comes along and is offered what some retained and others forfeited. In a word, man was a replacement power set in a relationship with the power that retained goodness and truth, or: its original nature. Man shared that nature, but, the fallen found it hard to suffer loss, and they wanted that nature back. Of course, they could not reclaim that nature, but they could possess man who now had it.

If we view all of this as words, then man, too, is a word. In this, we see that the nature man shares with those who are good is the nature of reality. Words can be very real; God framed the worlds with his word. The fallen words are words with no reality, no connection. Also, we see that it is the fallen and powerless powers who presently possess our reality. They accomplish such a feat through our ongoing 'Adamic' choice.

As long as we continue in the same choice, we share the fallen state of the fallen. As long as we align ourselves to their rebellion, we share in their death. The fallen rule this world only by our concession. We lift above our heads these powerless words, as if they had power. Anything so worshiped, whether religious, academic, scientific, philosophic, whatever – is a thing we give our power to, thus becoming equally as powerless. Philip says this: These are powers which [detain] man, not wishing him to be saved, in order that they may [be worshiped].

Originally there was only the good and true. Then some turned and lost reality. Man obtained that connection and was, himself, a power, but gave away his reality. Man has to be seen as half way between the two extremes. What is above man? What is below man? Man, himself, shares the natures of both extremes, his base nature being that of the animal. If man has power to give to the powerless fallen, that places the fallen below man. The fallen, having forfeited the higher nature of reality, are no more than animals, parasites that drink the life of their hosts. They are reality-sucking vampires.

For if man is saved, there will not be any sacrifices [of life for death,] and animals will not be offered to the powers.

Look at the evidence from early culture. Man willingly gives his power to the reality suckers – but man has been duped, he really knows no better. Man not only sets his parasites above him, as gods, but he also sacrifices living beasts to them. Moreover, man crafts images of the gods as the very animals he kills for them. Philip put it this way: Indeed, the animals were the ones to whom they sacrificed.

Man never really perceived that the end result of his sacrifices was no more than death.

Still fooled by powerless words, man has embraced every rationalization. To such glazed eyes the truth is imperceptible. Material objects and actions may never affect the immaterial reality. Killing animals is just killing animals. Jumping up and down is just jumping up and down, and while modern man may pride himself on a modicum of progress, most of the world's religions and sciences are based solely on material objects and actions. Philip saw it. Do you?

They were indeed offering them up alive, but when they offered them up, they died.

Centuries of sacrifice to powerless powers: animal and human. Mankind still believes that what he does, physically, has some bearing on his spiritual reality. In all of his mad rantings and gesticulations, man is only giving away his reality. That is the biggest and most useless sacrifice of them all. Where does it end? Well – it already ended, long ago.

The whole sacrifice game was turned on its head.

Instead of delivering the living animal up to death, the death of a man was offered in such a way as to result in life – and redemption to a prior value. It was not a sacrifice to the good but to the evil powers, a sacrifice intended to diffuse their entire power-grid.

As for man, they offered him up to God dead, and he lived.

Now, in case any of you doubt that the fallen are in control, just take a look at the wording in the book of Revelation. The beginning chapters offer an image of a victorious (revealed) Christ in communication with the churches. That is what the reader perceives if he is not paying attention. Actually, Christ is in communication with the angels of the churches. Those things promised by Christ, whether of the nature of benefit or punishment, are actually promised to the angels which govern the churches.

One such communication to one such angel is very telling. Christ warns the power that is in control of the church to remember “from whence thou art fallen”. It would appear, then, that fallen angels control the churches. It is like community service for angels accused of falling. There may be a chance of redemption for the bad guys as well.

Consider this: If fallen angels run the churches, and man worships there, is man only giving away his power to the powerless, his life to the dead, his higher reality to those void of their own reality? Fortunately, the sacrifice of Christ places the whole process of redemption outside the church, and has charged the power-thieves with the return of all power stolen from man.

Philip begins this next segment with one of the major tenets of modern Christianity; it is a Gnostic explanation of the virgin birth.

Some said, "Mary conceived by the Holy Spirit."

This is not a minor subject, but a theme upon which faith is based. Many people will have strong opinions on this matter. Since Philip here espouses an alternate view, we may expect that some people will ignore it while some others will resist it vehemently.

They are in error. They do not know what they are saying.

While Philip refers only to people of his age, the matter is further compounded by the fact that Philip asserts people of such faith to be in ignorance of the truth. Not only will Philip seem to attack the faith of many, that is: their reality, but their ability to reason as well While you and I are here, while we are open-minded seekers of truth, let us pause to examine Philip's alternate view.

When did a woman ever conceive by a woman?

His view begins with a strange question, indeed. Of course, our shared experience dictates that two women cannot engage in intercourse and engender a child. This holds true when we take the matter to a higher level and consider the union of feminine natures. There are instances in the natural world of such as asexual generation, but all higher forms of begetting, as we know them, require the combination of male and female elements.

To consider Philip's argument demands that we revise definitions held close and dear.

First revision: the Holy Spirit (considered to be the one who inseminated Mary) must be re-defined as a feminine element. This feminine element is counted among the powers that inhabit a plane higher than our coarse corporeality. Philip makes this assertion: Mary is the virgin whom no power defiled.

This view has been argued by others; it is a point of contention, for the worldly, and those less interested in higher matters have turned this point into an accusation of the faithful. The faithful are seen by the worldly as a type that believes in 'fairy tales'.

Seekers who approach the issue may likewise be tagged, but, if Mary was not fertilized by a feminine element, much less any of the other powers, what does that leave?

She is a great anathema to the Hebrews, who are the apostles and the apostolic men.

Such an issue is deeply disturbing to the mindset of that particular area, and the cultures that dwell there. The feminine element has traditionally be held as a closely guarded possession. As much is true to this very day. The history clearly states that Mary was pregnant before she married Joseph. How was a man of that culture to reconcile the concept of the very son of almighty God with an illegitimate birth?

This virgin whom no power defiled [must have had intercourse with an ascendant or angel, for] the powers defile themselves.

We have to ask: was Philip opening the same old can of worms, or was his argument actually going in another direction? As you might surmise by the words I have ventured to place in the brackets above, perhaps Philip was onto something other than an illegitimate birth.

While much of what is said in this type of ancient text may fly over the heads of the readers, Philip's greatest argument is the wording of a text we hold in common with him.

I say this because much of my own focus rests upon 'how' a text is worded. A text cursorily read yields little. Sometimes you just have to slow down enough to see the words more than the sentence. Philip's best argument follows; check the wording closely. It matters.

And the Lord would not have said "My Father who is in Heaven" (Mt 16:17), unless he had had another father, but he would have said simply "My father".

Remember two things about Philip's argument. One is that Jesus' wording indicates that he himself recognized two fathers. Two is that a male element with a physical nature was required for the birth of a physical son. I submit, therefore, that the male element was the angel that visited Mary – I say this because angels have a history of getting women pregnant.

Philip turns next to a brief topic I like to call 'Divine Maintenance'. I have included this brief statement because it stipulates a direction for our relationship with God. The relationship finds expression on the physical plane – I say this to draw attention away from the possibility that it finds expression merely in our attitudes and platitudes.

Philip actually tries to explain nothing here, but rather, allows the quote to speak for itself. It is not my desire, at this point, to enter discussions regarding either pros or cons as to the authenticity of the quote; I wish only to draw from its content for the purpose of my study. That purpose, please recall, is to examine anything that may qualify as a communication from the spirit.

The relationship indicated by the quote plays out in three parts. There are the physical man and the spiritual God, but between them is the social structure of the church. What may be seen here is more than the casual meeting of like minds that coalesce around a central belief system. What may be seen is actually a bodily function – the church being the body of Christ. The function is one of maintenance, growth, health. The quote: The Lord said to the disciples, "[Bring] from every house. Bring into the house of the Father. But do not take (anything) in the house of the Father nor carry it off."

The type of logic that Philip employs sometimes seems like a complete reversal from accepted forms of logical thought. It appears to be modeled along the lines of reverse psychology, such as when parents get children to do something by telling them not to.

That is only what I say it seems like; Philip is not attempting to be clever or cunning. He merely notes here that people think and speak in a backward manner.

It is true that we do. Our present language is full of expressions and idioms that are constructed in reverse. Two quick examples are: 'thunder and lightning' and 'shoes and

socks'. I think many such constructs are benign, but I agree here with Philip that some such constructs may actually interfere with a proper understanding, and thus hold a person back in their personal growth.

It may be common to most of us to think first of death and second of resurrection, but the construction of such a statement may mislead and stymie a proper inquiry. This may hinge on what, actually, is the central or key element of the whole. To think of passing through a locked door, one must envision the key, the door, and the lock. Rightly, we may not construct a statement where the key is obtained by passing through the locked door. Obviously, it does not work that way. Despite our present day idiom, we know that we have to put the sock on before the shoe.

So it is here with death and resurrection – we must discover the proper order by ascertaining the key element. Philip points to the reverse construct first: Those who say that the Lord died first and (then) rose up are in error, If you can only think in terms of the physical death, skip to the next section. Death is a multilayered concept, and Philip normally takes it to the next higher level – that's just how he rolls. We, too, must raise the level of our thinking as we approach the concept of death. Is it merely a physical end? If it might be viewed as a change or transition, that is to say: a door through which we must pass, then it probably is not the key element that opens the way. The prerequisite key must be the other element within the construct. The key to death, the key to transition, is resurrection. Philip makes this correction: for he rose up first and (then) died.

Philip then explains that resurrection is what actually opens the way to allow passage.

One must achieve the state before one can move on. Philip is not talking about an end, but about a beginning. Graduation from the first grade is not an end to school, but an achieved state that opens the way to something more complete, yet no more an end in itself than the previous grade.

If one does not first attain the resurrection, he will not die.

When we assign the higher values to our common concepts, the constructs seem inadequate. Those who are going nowhere see death as an end. They will continue putting on their shoes and socks until one day their conscious part finds that their physical part is wholly inadequate. A door will stand before them. They will have no key.

As God lives, he would [never rise up].

Here, Philip treats several topics allegorically. We have a lot to take in. Philip covers created man versus begotten man, Adam and Eve, Cain and Able, the serpent, adultery, intercourse, and nobility. This last seems particularly elusive, for he compares nobility, or the lack thereof, between two types of offspring.

He who has been created is beautiful, but you would <not> find his sons noble creations.

The begotten sons of created man do not seem to be noble, but rather a disappointment. I looked up the word to get a sense of what Philip might be referring to. The word noble may be used to various ends. I think Philip used noble in the sense of: “an exalted moral or mental character or excellence”.

Synonyms include: lofty, elevated, high-minded, principled; magnanimous; honorable, estimable,worthy, meritorious.”

Seems that after Adam, mankind was no more than a bunch of low-lifes. Compare that to Philip's contrasting notion.

If he were not created, but begotten, you would find that his seed was noble.

Why would that be? Why would I find the begotten sons of a begotten man more noble than the begotten sons of a created man? Admittedly, it is hard to follow Philip's reasoning here. His basis for such a comparison must hinge upon some concept taken for granted by Philip, for he certainly does nothing to make this point clear.

But now he was created (and) he begot. What nobility is this?

Philip displays a marked disappointment in ignoble mankind, and leaves the modern reader wondering why. Was mankind's ignobility based in the corporeality of childbirth or in the lost nature of the created state? Adam supposedly was created from mud and dirt – so what did his children lose? On the other hand, according to Philip's own words, the begotten sons of begotten Cain would evince nobility.

Perhaps it is a matter of only being able to move up or down from a particular point or state. Or, maybe the key to our understanding must be found in the early middle Eastern concept of adultery. Adultery was more than simply frowned upon, it was feared.

Adultery flew in the face of all that was held to be right and dear by the male-owned mentality of that time.

The woman was property. In order that she might offer a pure son, she herself had to be pure. The woman was not the important thing, the son was. A son by adultery, or even a son by a previously married woman just was not the same. The nature of the son by a pure virgin was the nature of the father. The nature of the seed of adultery was the nature of the adulterer.

First, adultery came into being, afterward murder.

Now, Philip's reasoning takes a sharp turn into the bizarre. The murderous nature of Cain could not possibly have come from Adam, according to Philip. Just as a tree is known by its fruit, a father may be known by his son. Philip states it plainly.

And he was begotten in adultery, for he was the child of the Serpent.

The assertion is that Cain was the son of adultery between Eve and the Serpent. She had carnal relations with a higher power, an Archon, a fallen angel. A higher being who was physically able to inseminate her convinced her that she had something to gain from it.

Was it a matter of simple physical desire on the part of Eve? Recall that she was created as a response to Adam's lack of a sexual partner, because, of all the animals in the garden, he was the only one unable to procreate.

In all likelihood, Adam and Eve engaged in sexual congress from the beginning. We wonder then, how long had the Archon been in communication with Eve to convince her of an alternate course â&#x20AC;&#x201C; and what was his line? My thought here is that early culture was family oriented, that may be seen easily enough in the Bible. It was all about having children, and Eve was a response to Adam's inability to have children like all the other animals in the garden.

They tried perhaps without immediate success. When we think of Cain as the son of an Archon, we may think of him as the fruit that both Adam and Eve swallowed â&#x20AC;&#x201C; they swallowed a lie. What was the lie? Perhaps the introduction of greatness into an otherwise animalistic family oriented mindset. The reasoning might have been that they were nothing more than another set of animals in God's zoo, and that a son with the nature of an Archon would make them more like the higher powers.

We normally think of the leafy crotch coverings that followed as a matter of shame, that they suddenly woke up and discovered a distaste for the natural state they had enjoyed for so long. What if the leaf loin cloth was meant to hide some physical change? Were there outward signs of the adultery? Ask yourself also, which would more justify God's harsh reaction, eating something from a tree, or consorting with his enemy?

Why did Adam put on the leaf; had there also been a physical change in him he wished to hide? Whether or not they had already had children, we might assume that the male dominated family oriented mindset of the early middle East had its roots in Adam.

Following such an assumption, we might further assume that Adam was more at fault than Eve. Perhaps Eve gave him only daughters, and the Archon offered a son.

So he became a murderer, just like his father, and he killed his brother.

So maybe they wanted a high born son, but, God did not, or could not, allow the introduction of such into that particular environment. The garden may have been more than just a physical place on the earth. The whole consorting family was cast out.

In all of our concept of adultery, we picture human with human. Philip's closing argument shows us something not as ordinary. He indicates a union between a human and a non-human. He implies that the entire human race is the result of that union, and that the nature of that union is perpetuated with each new ignoble child. There might have been a line of descendants from Adam which could have claimed nobility, but Cain destroyed that line before it began.

Indeed, every act of sexual intercourse which has occurred between those unlike one another is adultery.

Now, Philip wanders through the landscape of personal opinion. He speaks of 'have' and 'have not', taking issue with limited worldly opinions. He begins with the thought of either being clothed or naked, but we immediately see that he speaks of something higher.

Some are afraid lest they rise naked.

Philip notes a common attribute seen in men limited to a worldly view. We can understand this view, as we share it. To be naked is to be without, and found thus, our thinking demands that we put something on. The expanded view of this takes in the resurrection and afterlife. A common notion is that we will receive a new body – the thought is a comfort to those of us who cannot think beyond the body.

Because of this they wish to rise in the flesh, and they do not know that it is those who wear the flesh who are naked.

The new body is even found in scripture. Also found in scripture is the notion that what we hold dear is just the opposite of what God holds dear. In other words, Philip is exploring the concept of reversal. This concept asks us to envision everything in a sort of reverse order. In that reverse-order-heaven, having a body is equal to being naked, or without. Some thinking imagines the immaterial core of a man about which the body functions as a mechanical extension. Thoughts of losing the body at death leaves the individual nothing with which to work. Philip points to an alternative mindset.

It is those who [are prepared] to unclothe themselves who are not naked.

Beyond the grave is the spiritual kingdom of God. God, said Jesus, is a spirit (John 4:24). Jesus also said, “a spirit hath not flesh and bones” (Luke 24:39). Now, should man really expect heaven to be like this realm? That place beyond the grave is not a place for the continuation of the body as we know it. Philip bases his argument on this verse: "Flesh and blood shall not inherit the kingdom of God" (1 Co 15:50).

Such a place might seem frightening. It is a place where everything we ever depended on suddenly fails us. It is a new thing, and it calls for new. How may we function in a spiritual realm if we may not put on flesh and bone? Obviously, rather than worldly clothing, we must put on spiritual clothing. But recall the concept of reversal. What is the spiritual opposite of 'putting on'? The answer is 'putting in', that is to say: incorporation.

What is this which will not inherit? This which is on us.

The physical may not inherit the spiritual kingdom? So, who will inherit the spiritual kingdom? Or should I rephrase to ask, what will inherit the spiritual kingdom? Philip

says it is on us. In reversed parlance, we say it is in us. It is something we take into our identity, something we ingest, something we incorporate. There is a process of transcendence from our physical clothing to our spiritual clothing. It is ingestion.

But what is this, too, which will inherit? It is that which belongs to Jesus and his blood.

We must discover what it was that made Jesus who he was, and then incorporate that into who we want to be. Something about Jesus took him beyond the confines of spiritual nakedness. He was able to stand before God fully clothed. Knowing that we will lose our physical clothing at death, what kind of clothing do we need to have ready to put on?

Because of this he said "He who shall not eat my flesh and drink my blood has not life in him" (Jn 6:53).

The new clothing we will need to put on is the spiritual body with which we will function in a spiritual realm. It is none other than the spiritual flesh and blood of the son of God that we need to ingest here and now. Since Jesus told his disciples to eat his flesh and drink his blood, no one ever has eaten, or will eat, his physical flesh and blood.

In the church age, men have eaten bread or crackers, and have swallowed wine or grape juice as a token of his physical sacrifice – his broken body and spilled blood. That, however, is wholly insufficient. It is not something physical we wish to put on. The entire affair became absorbed back into the world, and mingled with the holidays of men – namely Easter, although I personally believe that Jesus had assigned the matter to the Jewish Passover, making of his flesh, not bread, but the slain lamb.

Jesus, in another instance, did refer to himself as bread, but however these things play out symbolically, what we must ingest is something of the spirit. We have a saying: you are what you eat. If you ingest freedom from the oppressor (the Paschal lamb), you are free. If you eat the manna of life, you are life. We look then for the spiritual quality of Jesus that took him beyond the chains of flesh and the world. We want to incorporate into ourselves the spiritual life that he offered, to put in, or put on Jesus.

What is it? His flesh is the word, and his blood is the Holy Spirit.

We ask, if not a real Passover lamb and spiced wine, if not crackers and grape juice – then what? Tokens and symbols will not suffice. We must ingest something spiritual.

But, what is spiritual exactly? I have asked that same question in other studies, and I have offered this as an answer: spiritual is mental is spiritual. Mentality and spirituality are one and the same. The thought, the word – these are the spiritual counterparts to our worldly flesh and bones. The Holy Spirit is the life blood of the new bodies we will put on.

He who has received these has food and he has drink and clothing.

The communication of the word, and the Holy Spirit throughout – that is all you will need to function in heaven. The things of this world are the things of this world only, and

must be left behind. This is Philip's personal opinion and belief. I see the sense of it. But Philip's is only one of three schools of thought. There is his own, there is the school that hopes to have a physical body beyond the grave, and there is the school that thinks there is nothing beyond the grave.

I find fault with the others who say that it will not rise.

Those pesky non-believers actually existed before the advent of the internet. The seekers of old held the same place as modern seekers of truth â&#x20AC;&#x201C; that is, between the rock of the conventional church and the hard place of the atheists and gentiles.

Then both of them are at fault.

A rock and a hard place is a rock and a hard place. To see that necessitates a prerequisite spiritual elevation. If you have risen up enough to see it, you have already tasted what Christ had to offer. Move on then and fully put on Christ. Eat the word and drink the Holy Spirit. To live and move in the realm of spirit and truth, you must be spirit and truth â&#x20AC;&#x201C; you are what you eat.

You say that the flesh will not rise. But tell me what will rise, that we may honor you.

You say the Spirit in the flesh, and it is also this light in the flesh. (But) this too is a matter which is in the flesh, for whatever you shall say, you say nothing outside the flesh.

Philip's complaint: we must rise up. Our argument, also, must rise up above the level of mere flesh; it must rise above the world. Both of the other two schools of thought are chained to the flesh. It does not matter if you claim to be religious or non-religious, you are trapped where you are. It is needful to know this realm of existence, and most of us can only judge by what we presently possess. After all, everything we know exists in this realm â&#x20AC;&#x201C; and that includes the suspicion that there is something more. That includes the process of transcendence beyond this realm, and all the help we could ask for.

It is necessary to rise in this flesh, since everything exists in it. In this world, those who put on garments are better than the garments. In the Kingdom of Heaven, the garments are better than those that put them on.

There is something better.

We have a saying: 'it takes one to know one'. What Philip presents here may be just as well worded in the reverse. I would like the reader to keep that in mind. Philip sets the matter in what appears as a chameleon Jesus, or at least a man of a thousands faces, offering a different song and dance to each and every need.

Jesus took them all by stealth, for he did not appear as he was, but in the manner in which they would be able to see him.

Philip contends that Jesus, at first, was not recognized as the revealed one. That would come later, but everyone saw him according to his own understanding and personal bias.

The main point here is that all saw him. He was common and accessible to all.

He appeared to them all.

Seen by everyone â&#x20AC;&#x201C; but always through some personal filter. Such a filter might be a bias, a prejudice, a preconception, a driving desire, a particular nature such as jealousy, or even a limited education.

He appeared to the great as great.

Philip gives us the impression that Jesus deliberately revealed himself as great only to the great. An extended image of this would be visualized as Jesus hobnobbing with the Pharisees. That does not bear out in scripture. Jesus had contentious relations with many people, but most especially with the Pharisees.

Here is where we take things out of the Philip-wording, and put them forward in reverse order. What I am saying is that only a great spirit could recognize Jesus as great. For me, the reverse order clears away the possibility of confusion. We are not talking about the great as important or powerful or rich, and we are not talking about the small as downtrodden or poor or in need of healing.

He appeared to the small as small.

When Philip speaks of the small, our reverse order understanding should clearly illuminate the small in spirit. A small-spirited person would want to portray Jesus as small so that he might be easily dismissed. The Pharisees and Sadducees and lawyers all tried to discount Jesus. Yet even among their ranks, there was one example of greatness who recognized the greatness in Jesus, and came to him secretly.

John 3:2 shows Nicodemus coming to Jesus and openly confessing the greatness in Jesus. Why was that? He was a Pharisee of high status, and wielded both power and influence. Clearly, however, his personal biases and prejudices differed from those of his peers.

He appeared to the angels as an angel, and to men as a man.

There was a connection between Nicodemus and Jesus that called to the Pharisee. That is exactly what the saying: 'it takes one to know one' is all about: connections. Each and every individual will naturally see in another what they see in themselves. Angels connect to the angelic nature of one like themselves. Kings will see a rival who needs to be eliminated. The needy connect to one who understands their needs. The student connects to the one with answers.

Because of this, his word hid itself from everyone.

Jesus came and taught, but how the individual saw him through their particular filter affected the impact of Jesus' words. It must be noted that everyone did not understand

Jesus' teachings in the same way. The zealots, for example, would only have understood the parts which took them out from under the yoke of Rome. We clearly see in the teachings of Jesus that he had to go back and explain many things to his closest disciples. Doctors of the law were so busy attempting to legally dissect his teachings that nothing got through. To them, it became only a competition.

Some indeed saw him, thinking that they were seeing themselves, but when he appeared to his disciples in glory on the mount, he was not small.

Smallness can manifest itself in a big way. Smallness can be a really huge blind spot.

Often in the Bible, people would judge Jesus thus: 'Who does he think he is? He's just a man like us.' They would say: 'We know this man. We know his family.' Even the closest disciple can have a huge blind spot that hides the true nature of the teacher. Biases , preconceptions, and the like are chains that bind greatness to all that we already possess and know, to all that we are most comfortable with. But greatness will not be held down.

He became great, but he made the disciples great, that they might be able to see him in his greatness.

The disciples were ignorant of the true nature of Jesus; they had to be shown. In that case, Jesus had to reveal his greatness to their smallness in order that they too might rise up. Had he not, the religion of Christianity would have failed. Even after his display of greatness on the mount, their connection was on the verge of collapse. They thought all they had received was lost with his crucifixion. He had to show them his greatness again and again for them to see him as more than themselves, and for faith to take root.

The opening statement. It is a declaration of types and patterns. For Philip and his peers, everything had to be in its proper place. By knowing the proper place of one thing, a man could reason the proper place of its counterpart.

The heavenly man has many more sons than the earthly man.

A line is drawn between the heavenly man and the earthly man. A line is drawn between a man and a son. By the line, one may reason the complete or perfect on one side and the incomplete or undeveloped on the other.

If the sons of Adam are many, although they die, how much more the sons of the perfect man, they who do not die but are always begotten.

Here, it is a good idea to stop and examine the wording. We do not look to the word 'begotten' as that is a given. We understand that Philip has differentiated the earthly from the heavenly, and by doing so, the mechanics of begetting.

Rather, we should focus on the word 'always' as it may explain the difference between worldly and heavenly son making. The heavenly begetting is always but the earthly begetting is the opposite of always. To get a grasp of the word 'always' we must turn to the thesaurus. This is what we get: (adverb) 'forever'. But, forever in what sense? If the

word indicates a cyclic nature, that is then no different from the begetting done by the sons of Adam.

'Always begotten' must, therefore, be the opposite of always begetting. It may seem to us that the whole point is overly thought out, however, that is precisely the obstacle we, as seekers, have set ourselves to overcome in our quest to understand Philip's reasoning â&#x20AC;&#x201C; and by extension, the communication of the God Mind. In earthly begetting, it seems, the nature of being begotten is lost. By that I mean, once the son is begotten, he begins his descent toward death. If heavenly begetting is the opposite, the begotten nature must remain.

While there is growth in the son toward manhood, and the ability to beget, the nature of the father, or the 'begotten' nature never diminishes. This may be a topic worthy of much more attention, but we must leave it for now and move on. Until the son becomes the father, he remains the son. Philip has placed both in their own place; he has drawn the line.

The father makes a son, and the son has not the power to make a son.

These are counterparts of one another where the father might represent the nature of 'making' and the son might represent the nature of 'becoming'. Yet, both are joined, and held in place by the shared nature that does not diminish: the 'begotten' nature. That nature cries out for definition, and so I submit a comparison to our sun. The sun is a spark; it is always a spark.

For he who has been begotten has not the power to beget, but the son gets brothers for himself, not sons.

The son, then, represents a father in the making, yet, undeveloped. Always at the point of being begotten, he shares the begotten nature, but is unable to beget. The one thing he can do is seek his brothers and shine a light on their shared nature.

All who are begotten in the world are begotten in a natural way, and the others are nourished from the place whence they have been born.

While the spark never wanes, there is still within the child the nature of becoming. The simple comparison here is that for a child to grow, it must be nourished. With every thing in its proper place, the animal kingdom nourishes its young, the kingdom of man nourishes its young, and also, the heavenly kingdom nourishes its young. To each comes the nourishment needed, and from its own place.

Man, actually, must be categorized as a part of the animal kingdom. By such categorization, we more clearly see the counterparts of flesh and spirit. If man receives his nourishment from the animal kingdom only, there is no point in Philip going on and on. Man, however, is dual in nature. He is both man the flesh, and man the spirit. He straddles the drawn line. It is because of this dual nature that Jesus said 'man shall not live by bread alone'. Go back to the Bible and read what Jesus says about our

nourishment. The bread of life, the word of God, the communication of the spirit of God, the promise of heaven, which has driven men through the centuries â&#x20AC;&#x201C; it all supports Philip's argument.

It is from being promised to the heavenly place that man receives nourishment.

That, of course, is the spiritual man that Philip refers to. Our nourishment is every word that proceeds from the mouth of God. The promise: eternal life, forever-life, always-life. Is there a definition of eternal life (that Holy spark)? Yes there is; Jesus defined it when he said eternal life is the knowledge of God. It has never been claimed that life everlasting is the continuation of a physical or functional body.

[The promise went out to] him from the mouth.

That is to say that the spiritual communication to the spiritual man was accomplished through the physical mouth, and preaching.

And had the word gone out from that place, it would be nourished from the mouth and it would become perfect.

When we think of the communication, itself, going out into the physical world, then it too would be a begotten son, and would therefore be in need of the same preaching, the same nourishment by the mouth. If you think about it, that is what John said when he wrote 'the word became flesh'.

Philip's argument honors the physical mouth as the instrument of communication to, and nourishment of, the spiritual man. In that regard, Philip also honors the Holy kiss, or, the recognition of brothers in the spirit. The kiss is a type and pattern of the shared begotten nature â&#x20AC;&#x201C; the same nature by which the father conceived and brought forth. Let it be known, then, that the kiss is the secret of the bridal chamber.

For it is by a kiss that the perfect conceive and give birth.

The kiss is always where two meet, and two are not the same, but are made one. The kiss is always where the spiritual communication of God reaches the physical ears of spiritual man. The kiss is always where physical man straddles the drawn line because of his spiritual connection. The kiss is father to son, and the kiss is also sibling to sibling.

For this reason we also kiss one another. We receive conception from the grace which is in one another.

The thing the father does in begetting his son, and the thing the son does in gathering brothers, is not something done apart from us at some distant place. It is always accomplished here and now.

And now, we come to an interesting aside. Philip is thinking out loud, just considering three of the characters not as often in the credits. He gives the aside no more than two sentences, but, let us consider it with him.

There were three who always walked with the Lord: Mary, his mother, and her sister, and Magdalene, the one who was called his companion.

I recall that Mary Magdalene was said to have been with Jesus from the beginning of his ministry, but, I do not recall either his mother or her sister as being so named, even though many women followed the ministry. Jesus' mother, no doubt, had other children.

In fact, she showed up once with some of his siblings in tow. Had she been 'always' a part of his ministry, the home might have been abandoned, and the siblings might also have been a part of the ministry.

Mary's sister was also a Mary: the wife of Clophas, and the mother of James the disciple. I understand that the name 'Mary' had alternate forms: 'Miriam', for example.

An interesting point about this aside is that Philip names this particular Mary as both Mary the mother's sister, and as Jesus' sister. It has been suggested that this Mary was related through Clophas, who was the brother of Joseph. She was a sister-in-law.

Such a relationship would actually make her an aunt. It might be possible that they referenced aunts, in those days, as sisters, but I want to bring up a connection more on a spiritual plane. Jesus was considered through prophecy to be a prophet on the order of Moses, and Moses had a sister named Miriam (or Mary). It could well be that Philip had that in mind when he named her as Jesus' sister.

In light of any woman being part of such a traveling ministry, certain problematic issues arise. Foremost was the status of women in the culture of that day and age. The fact that Jesus included women in such a capacity could have been highly unusual. Also, the women are said to have supported his ministry. If we think in financial terms, we are more likely to think of widows, as we might naturally think of Jesus' mother. Was her sister also a widow?

The logistics of such a traveling ministry are complicated. At the end of the day, camp had to be set, meals had to be cooked, etc. Who provided the tents and the bedding?

Who cooked and cleaned? Where did the women sleep? Did women such as Peter's wife accompany the ministry, and did married couples and/or their children have separate quarters? Was there a hierarchy among the female supporters?

That brings me to Magdalene. Philip makes a point of naming her as Jesus' companion.

He uses the word twice, once in each sentence. Why? Was she just a fellow traveler, or was she the one who attended him at the end of the day, getting his meal, preparing his place for the night? Was she more than that? When he rested from his ministry and his followers, did she provide non-shop-talk company? Or could her position have even been more special â&#x20AC;&#x201C; that of a familiar consort? Was Philip dancing around the idea that she was his wife, or was he trying to place a more 'common-law' relationship in a neutral

light? Philip may have had no real stand on Magdalene's relationship with Jesus, but he seems to have accepted, rather casually, the claim that others made.

One more note about Magdalene. I have for years considered Magdalene to be the sister of Lazarus and Martha â&#x20AC;&#x201C; this solely from my research in the canon, primarily from the raising of Lazarus and wedding in Cana texts. In researching this study, I ran across a new resource in Wikipedia. Here it is: (An apocryphal Coptic Book of the Resurrection of Christ, attributed to the apostle Bartholomew, names the women who went to the tomb. Among them were: Mary Magdalene; Mary the mother of James, whom Jesus delivered out of the hand of Satan; Mary who ministered to him; Martha her sister; Joanna(perhaps also Susanna) who renounced the marriage bed; and "Salome who tempted him".) I submit this simply because Philip places Magdalene as Jesus' companion, the one who ministered to him.

His sister and his mother and his companion were each a Mary.

Now, Philip touched on the three Mary's, but I have a further aside. I wish to add the three J's. There was Jesus, there was his cousin John, and there was his Dad Joseph.

There were other J's as well. There was James his cousin, James his brother, Judas his friend and betrayer, and Joseph of Arimathea.

Here, Philip gives us the 'misunderstanding' of the saints. If those nearest the truth have such a blind spot, how sad and pathetic is the world? Seekers of spiritual enlightenment, it seems, are still prone to misinterpret the findings. That is: they do not carry their seeking far enough to know the difference.

There are saints, and there are evil powers. Philip clearly states that the saints do not serve the evil powers, but that: The saints are served by evil powers, One would think that evil powers would stand in opposition to the saints. Perhaps their intentions stand in opposition. We have already seen that, through jealousy, they have deceived man â&#x20AC;&#x201C; stolen him from God, and made every attempt to make him their own.

They have reduced the spirit to the level of man; they have demanded worship, and in return, they have offered those blessings that keep men bound.

However, there are men, and there are saints. The plan of the evil powers is riddled with loop holes. The Holy Spirit (that is: the mind of God) is an irresistible power that has full command of all lesser powers. The evil powers have a blind spot, for God has made them think that saints are ordinary men. They give saints 'enough rope to hang themselves with', but the saints use that rope to scale the walls of their prison and escape the normal confines. Evil powers offer them the same chains they give to all men, but saints chain the doors behind them so that the evil powers may not follow.

for they are blinded by the Holy Spirit into thinking that they are serving an (ordinary) man whenever they do so for the saints.

There is a problem still: saints are a mixed bag. There are saints that subscribe to the worldly notions of ordinary men. They do not seek the higher truths, but the blessings that keep them bound. Consider what men seek of the Lord. Even though God offers more than bread alone, it is the bread that some desire. Consider what men have asked of Jesus.

Jesus once said 'give to Caesar what is his, but to God the things of God'. This may be viewed by two separate minds. The mind that is bound, the worldly mind, does not seek beyond the ordinary. The mind that seeks after higher truth will see that there is another side to give. It is the side of 'ask'. The saint will ask of God the things that belong to God. The ordinary man will ask of God the things that belong to the world.

Because of this, a disciple asked the Lord one day for something of this world.

Consider how two disciples once asked to be on the right and left of Jesus in heaven.

The place one holds, the influence and power one obtains â&#x20AC;&#x201C; these are things of the world.

Consider how Jesus once offered something spiritual to Peter, but Peter rejected it: his worldly mindset, his pride, asked Jesus not to wash his feet. Even John the Baptist had his moment of misunderstanding, and said to Jesus, 'it is you who should baptize me'.

The mind of the world seeks for the things of the world. Evil powers have conditioned ordinary men to see 'good' only within the confines they have set. You might well ask, then, how does one rise above to become a saint? Recall that the Holy Spirit affected the thinking of the powers that be. That same Holy mind of God can affect the thinking of ordinary men.

In the world, the things we count as good, or of some benefit or advantage, usually come at a cost. We must labor to get them, we must purchase them, fight for them even, because they are owned by someone else. Picture the poor who work in mines, who pay out of their meager wages to live in company owned hovels, who give their pay back to the company for mere necessities.

God is your spiritual father, and you may ask of him the spiritual things he possesses.

The world is your mother, and you may ask of her the worldly things she holds in store.

You may ask of both, but who should you ask of first? There is an order to things, and there is a wisdom: if you ask for 'two' before 'one', you have nothing to add together.

Jesus said, 'seek first the kingdom of God'.

He said to him, "Ask your mother, and she will give you of the things which are another's."

Don't be fooled. If you wear the clothing of a saint, you are only dressed like a saint. A true saint is a saint even in worldly garb.

Philip continues here on the spiritual symbolism of salt. As we recall, salt was used in the animal sacrifices of the old testament. We may view the addition of salt as an additive, or 'that little extra' that made the sacrifice acceptable.

Wikipedia says this: The role of salt in the Bible is relevant to understanding Hebrew society during the Old Testament and New Testament periods. Salt is a necessity of life and was a mineral that was used since ancient times in many cultures as a seasoning, a preservative, a disinfectant, a component of ceremonial offerings, and as a unit of exchange. The Bible contains numerous references to salt. In various contexts, it is used metaphorically to signify permanence, loyalty, durability, fidelity, usefulness, value, and purification.

This article speaks specifically of the symbolic meaning of salt in the old testament, and the symbolic meaning of salt in the new testament. I recommend it be read completely.

'Salt in the Bible' is the title of the article.

Those of us exercised in Bible study will recognize the use, or application, of salt as in the addition of salt to a sacrifice, but Philip goes another way here, exploring not the giving but the receiving of salt.

The apostles said to the disciples, "May our entire offering obtain salt."

The symbolism of salt is a thing the apostles would have learned from their teachers, the disciples. The symbolism of salt had many originating applications, but over time, it coalesced into an ideology that found expression in later writings. It was the ideology of ascendancy.

They called Sophia "salt".

Indeed, an ascendant had to obtain a particular quality within himself, a quality that was Christlike and Godlike, and that marked the ascendant's passage into higher spheres. It is a thing that is particularly relevant to my study, this quality they called Sophia. We call it wisdom, and we see it as a mental attribute that goes way beyond the basics.

If the reader makes any connection at all through these studies, let the reader connect spirituality to mentality. The mind is a spiritual entity. It is built up and sustained by the things that are communicated to it. In this regard, wisdom may be considered a whole, healthy, and well-developed spiritual entity. Wisdom may be considered that which is born of the seeker's efforts.

Philip and his peers believed Sophia to be the mother rather than the child. Wisdom is the sole attribute that gives all our efforts an identity of value. Should others emulate our struggles, they are empty and vain, being without wisdom. Should these others claim that their collection of facts and figures and measurements are equal to wisdom, they are in error.

Understanding occurs as one pulls away from mere facts and figures and measurements.

It is a long and sometimes painful road one must walk to arrive at such a place, but it is a better place. Equally long and painful is the journey one undertakes to rise above mere understanding. It is in the long run, more a matter of distillation than addition.

Of old, wisdom was considered barren. She could not have children of her own.

Without it, no offering is acceptable. But Sophia is barren, without child.

Being an immaterial quality, we as material could never be born of wisdom as wholly immaterial. Rather, some small trace of that identity must be grafted on, or infused. We then have something that we may work with and develop.

For this reason, she is called "a trace of salt".

An individual, having the trace of salt within, will develop that quality with the markings of his or her own individuality, but the spiritual substance will be the proving identity of parenthood. The individual will align his or her forward momentum with the development of his or her spiritual identity despite his or her individual markings. In other words, any one of us may become and grow as a spiritual offspring, and seemingly in spite of our obvious differences, we are spiritually the same.

Wherever they will [, men will lift up Sophia] in their own way, the Holy Spirit [is the mother of wise men and women], and her children are many.

In a separate section, Philip continues his thoughts about the trace of salt, or wisdom, found in the children of Sophia. Here he refers to that trace as a fire â&#x20AC;&#x201C; and with good reason. To compare fire with a trace, or small amount, one naturally thinks of the beginning spark. We know that a spark may be fanned into a roaring blaze. One starts a fire with a spark and a little wind, blowing gently until the spark becomes a flame. In this regard, we may allude to the creation of Adam by the breath of God. So as the breath of God, Sophia begets us as more than mere living beings; by wisdom, we are begotten anew as spiritual beings, as children of the spark, as it were. We must ask then, what is this new birth, and what defines it? We have in us the trace of salt, the identifying mark of the mother, the small spark gently fanned in preparation of the flame. Wisdom is that trace, that identifying mark. Wisdom is both spark and flame.

Wisdom, as we are all aware, is a mental attribute of the highest order. As I like to say: 'spiritual is mental is spiritual'.

I have mentioned that the personal journey toward wisdom, of the seeker and ascendant, is more a matter of distillation than addition. It is a refinement of all we possess. It is a narrowing clarification of purpose. It is a distillation of personal drive, and an inclination toward a more singular direction. The flame leaps up.

From the trace of salt comes all of who we are, and what we do. It burns in us, and sometimes the fire rages. The flame is a special quality that must be attended, and that

attention is applied outside of the physical experience. Angels may be viewed as keepers of the flame. As humans, we can see our part in this, our role, as the little brothers of the angels. We cannot tend our own flame, but we may seek to understand. Understand that a flame requires fuel and air. One may see in this the representation of three of the four elements.

We may not tend our own flame, but we may hope to reach a point where we can help those below us understand what they are subject to. We may have a hand in the refinement, in the narrowing and distillation, but we must remember that each flame bearer is an individual. We are not boxcars attached to some larger common train; we are each of us separate engines, each with a fire within, and as it happens from time to time, some of us may occasionally go off the track.

Those who have gone astray, whom the spirit begets, We can see in what Philip says that he is not speaking of the earthly man. He speaks clearly of the spiritually begotten. To 'go astray' presupposes that one has a set path, a track, from which to deviate. In thinking of a 'life-direction' in these terms, we may picture the matter more clearly as the route of one particular train. The track is something that incorporates not only distance, but time as well. This set route incorporates the procession of individual change.

The flame leaps up, and the little engine pulls ahead. The hotter the flame is fanned the faster the train will go. If there is too much fire, and the train goes really fast, it can all too easily derail. Is it the engine's fault? The engine cannot tend its own flame, others do that, but responsibility demands of the engine that it not only have a set of brakes, but use them judiciously. In ascension, which is basically a learning process, none of us are at first familiar with our brakes. The fire within can easily blow us away. usually go astray also because of the Spirit.

When we strike a match, we are faced with two basic choices aside from its use. We can watch the match burn down to our fingers, or we can use our breath to blow out the flame. That is a lesson from 'Keeper of the Flame 101'. What are the choices of those who tend the fire within us, and what leads them to make one choice over another?

The spirit sets the spark. Sophia fans the flame. Wisdom directs the keepers of the flame to their particular set path. They tend the flame within others for reasons which belong purely to the spiritual realm. At any time, Sophia may extinguish either the keeper or the kept.

Thus, by one and the same breath, the fire blazes and is put out.

The spirit is the mind is the spirit.

Philip muses here on the pearl of great price. By the time of Philip, this saying attributed to Jesus would not only have been passed down orally, but would have found its way

into widely distributed epistles. Most certainly, the disciples would have taught the lesson to the apostles as they had been taught of the Lord.

Most of us have at least some familiarity with the parable. Whether or not we dwell on the concept is another matter. The principle, though, is inescapable, permeating every life in a number of all too common examples.

Yet, even something so valuable as a large pearl can become less than attractive. Philip states it thus: When the pearl is cast down into the mud, it becomes greatly despised, Circumstance, then, greatly affects the apparent value of any given item or issue. Let us examine the scenario. Say the owner accidentally dropped his beloved pearl into the muck. He belongs to an anal society that forbids him to touch mud lest he be considered unclean. This actually increases the value of the pearl, as the owner must hire someone to fetch and clean it for him.

One small change in a situation can matter greatly. Consider the drunk that takes the pretty woman up to his room. In the morning, he wakes to the ugliest woman he has ever seen. Even international models are a whole other story when they come out of their make-up.

On the other hand, it is impossible to take a thing truly precious and make it more valuable. Philip puts it in these terms: nor if it is anointed with balsam oil will it become more precious.

Imagine the dealer of fine and exquisite pearls trying to sell a pearl to another dealer.

Both are aware of its value â&#x20AC;&#x201C; which depends heavily upon the profit. The seller and the buyer see profit in a very different light. While the seller hopes to get more, the buyer hopes to give less. They haggle but cannot come to an agreement. The seller offers to rub the pearl in precious oil, but the buyer responds that used oil is no longer precious, and the pearl will be hard to hold.

No matter the circumstance, the owner of the pearl counts its value by the amount invested, by the sacrifices made to obtain it. He will not let the buyer talk him below his price; he will pay extra rather than suffer the loss of it. Philip states the obvious: But it always has value in the eyes of its owner.

What constitutes value, or who is allowed to ascribed value? The seller of the pearl will not suffer the buyer to tell him what his pearl is worth, he already knows. He knows that he invested everything he possessed into the purchase of it. He knows that when it was lost he had to sacrifice even more to receive it back again.

Now, lest you surmise that Philip thinks nothing new upon the subject, I remind you that this study is ultimately about the communication of the spirit to those considered distanced from the matter. The study revolves around the conveyance of the God-mind.

God conveyed it to Jesus, who in turn conveyed it to his disciples, who then taught it to their students, and now we, at the greatest current distance from the matter, stand poised to receive the same mind through such seekers of truth as Philip. Through all, it is the Holy Spirit who so kindly deals with each of us.

In Philip's conclusion, I have underlined what is new to thoughts on this matter. I direct our attention to the underlined because it is needful to see those of us who belong to God not only as valuable to God, but as valuable in light of various circumstances. 'Wherever we may be' speaks of the varied conditions of our ascension. Our Father invested everything in us, and would not be told we were worth less than his investment. Then when we were lost to him, he reclaimed us through great personal sacrifice rather than suffer our loss.

Compare the Sons of God: wherever they may be, they still have value in the eyes of their Father.

Philip now turns his attention to a closer inspection of our identity. All people set a value on others by first identifying them with something. A small boy will identify a girl as a nuisance, as an enemy, as a bearer of Cooties, and will thus seek to avoid her. When that boy reaches puberty, he actively seeks out the girl. Why? Because he now identifies her as a desirable opportunity.

The entire Muslim world has been identified with the terrorist, and that greatly affects how non-Muslims interact with them.

In the sixties, blacks were identified in a way that restricted white interactions. Of course, that has changed for the better since then.

In the conquest of America, American natives were identified as obstacles to manifest destiny. They were murdered, and their lands stolen.

However, the American Indian is now identified as incorporated, and is thus ignored.

The black identity is now one of common place. Fewer whites are openly belligerent.

Increasingly, the Muslim is seen as a normal person, working in the interest of his or her family â&#x20AC;&#x201C; just like the rest of us.

Some folks are no longer alarmed. Some folks are unimpressed. Common worldly people are just people after all. Philip knew this. Identities that at one time alarmed his generation seemed less threatening, less imposing. Here are Philip's thoughts on the matter.

If you say, "I am a Jew," no one will be moved.

Obviously, there was a time when people were moved by such a claim. Is Philip a Jew; does he speak for the Jew? If so, we may take this to mean that not even the Jew is moved by such a claim.

If you say, "I am a Roman," no one will be disturbed.

This sentence displays a certain easing of one's trepidation in regard to those who were once feared and despised. In all so far, Philip seems to be saying that things change, man's attitude included. After time, a man will cease to be impressed by either good or ill. A certain amount of normal wear and tear will dampen a man's sensitivities.

If you say, "I am a Greek, a barbarian, a slave, a free man," no one will be troubled.

Issues that once mattered greatly to us will, at some point, cease to trouble us. The man might ask of any one of these issues: â&#x20AC;&#x153;Well, what's that got to do with me?â&#x20AC;? Indeed, we all have a tendency to 'weed our garden' to a point where we only have to deal with the most immediate of issues. Only those things that touch us will get a rise. We may not swat a mosquito but we will certainly scratch an itch. The reverse of that is that we may all tell what gets under our skin by the reaction we have to it. An applicable saying here is that: 'a bit dog always barks'. Philip put it this way: If you say, "I am a Christian," the [heart of stone] will tremble.

This was not only a matter of empirical evidence to Philip, but a thing that impressed him. A person who, like the judge in one of Christ's parables, regarded neither God nor man might still see a challenge in the nature of Christianity. The persistent call to rise might, to a soul that is sedate and settled, seem very much like a threat.

While the Roman might represent danger and death, one's senses may be dulled through lack of actual contact, or even through one's own distancing bravado. However, the persistent nature of Christianity presents one with the challenge of change. One feels expected to accept that just anyone can come along and say one is wrong about something, thus flying in the face of one's autonomy.

That one is made to feel compelled to deal with more than what one expects from oneself really does leave a barb in one's conscience. Some folk would not jump at all â&#x20AC;&#x201C; unless they were bitten.

Those of you who ply the social sites may have noticed a lack of response to certain questions and topics. Oh, but let someone ask a well-intentioned question on matters of Christianity, and three dozen conscience-bitten non-believers will chime in as if attacked, as if in defense. Kind of shows just what really gets next to them. Philip, and I dare say, many others want to be that quiet force that still moves the world.

The fact that the world will swallow a camel, but swat a gnat is really just the result of presentation. When I raised cats, I fed the kittens garlic to dispel their worms. Of course, they would turn their noses up at the slightest indication of that healthful herb. But when I presented that same cure disguised in a ball of raw hamburger, they swallowed it whole. Philip says this in conclusion: Would that I might [be to every man just] like that - the person whose name [the world] will not be able to endure hearing.

The Eucharist is a complicated, layered issue. It is viewed differently by different denominations within the Christian faith. Put as simply as possible, it is an event based upon the words of Jesus: “This do in remembrance of me.” It occurred during the 'last supper', where Jesus shared wine and bread with his disciples.

It has come down to us as a celebration and commemoration of the body and blood which Christ sacrificed for the world. Some churches partake of crackers and wine, some partake of crackers and grape juice, still others partake of crackers and water. That date in time has come to be associated with the spring equinox, with rebirth, and celebrations of fertility socially connected to the religion of Ishtar: that being chicks and bunnies and eggs, etc.

Churches regularly stage Easter egg hunts 'for the children'. Chocolate bunnies are pressed into the expectant hands of toddlers, and live chicks are sold at that time of year.

A seeker is responsible to go beyond all that. We seek the truth that lies behind the mask and the truth that is buried below the surface of the apparent world. We must necessarily ask, then, what exactly was a last supper?

The Eucharist hinges upon the accounts of the last supper as found in the canonical gospels such as Matthew 26: 17-30. In verse 19 of that chapter we find: “And the disciples did as Jesus appointed them; and they made ready the passover.”

The 'last supper', therefore, was the passover. Now, his detractors wished to apprehend him: “Not during the feast, lest a tumult arise among people.”

If Judas did his part correctly, the arrest would occur either before or after the actual feast, but for all intents and purposes, Jesus returned to Jerusalem to eat one last Passover with his disciples.

The last supper was the Passover meal. So, what was the Passover meal exactly? It was a celebration and commemoration of the exodus: that is, the freeing of God's people from bondage. The meal included bread and wine, but more importantly a slain lamb who's blood guaranteed deliverance from the final curse of death. The same meal and commemoration was practiced in Jesus' day.

Of course, our next question is this: why did the gospel writers only focus on the bread and wine; where was the lamb? Well, he was right there at the table. Jesus took the place of the Paschal lamb, for it was his blood (not the symbolic wine) that would guarantee deliverance. It has been my understanding for some time now that when Jesus said: “This do in remembrance of me”, what he really meant was to celebrate the Passover with him in mind. As I see it, the Eucharist has gone far afield, and is no more than an empty physical gesture.

The eucharist is Jesus.

When Philip makes the statement that the Eucharist is Jesus, we may understand him to mean that Jesus is in fact the slain lamb of God, the most important part of the Passover meal.

Jesus was a Jew. The Passover was a Jewish feast.

The Eucharist should, therefore, retain its Jewish character and identity. The obvious fact that the Eucharist, as it is practiced today, has no Jewish identity means only one thing: it is counterfeit.

Philip's initial statement comes with an implied question. Our seeking minds ask (The eucharist is Jesus because . . . ?), and then our seeking minds try to associate Philip's first remark to his second. We scratch our heads. Is Philip once more jumping off into name-isms? What is Philip trying to tell us?

For he is called in Syriac "Pharisatha," which is "the one who is spread out," In some liturgical definitions 'spread out' is expressed as 'stretched out'. In either case, the reference is plain. It is the actual crucifixion that Philip wants us to interpret as the Eucharist. When he was hung on a tree (although popularly it was considered a curse) Jesus became the fruit of that tree: life, and that was in answer to the fruit of the Adamic tree of the knowledge of good and evil, which was death.

It seems to me that Philip wishes us to see the interactions of opposites, and more importantly, to know which pole is true North. The world calls the South pole North; that is what it teaches. Knowing that, we may be sure that when the world teaches crackers and wine, it is actually a misdirection.

The world also teaches that Christ was crucified: “But we preach Christ crucified”, the flip side of that being: “that the body of sin might be destroyed”. Philip is leading our thoughts to the flip side.

It really wasn't Jesus who was crucified, but the world. It is not a wild or unbelievable assertion that Philip makes when he says: for Jesus came to crucify the world.

Jesus, himself, corroborates what Philip asserts when he says in Matthew 10: 34: “Think not that I am come to send peace on the earth: I came not to send peace, but a sword”.

It is the world, it is the body of sin that is crucified.

There are things in our lives, things we take for granted, things which deserve a greater degree of consideration and reflection. Philip brings that up in this section. Basically, Philip asks: what's in a name – exactly?

What is the difference between a grant and a loan? The loan is not really yours; you have to pay it back. Many of us call ourselves Christian, and try to let that word carry the ball, totally overlooking the fact that the ball is still in our court. We have failed to ask ourselves just what kind of Christian we are.

According to Philip, one may not simply take up the name. There are prerequisites.

There are differing applications. It is safe to say an easy application is easy to submit. It is on the bottom shelf, so to speak, and we do not have to reach up for it. Philip says this about the easy application: If one goes down into the water and comes up without having received anything, and says "I am a Christian," he has borrowed the name at interest.

You wanted a grant, but the easy application you submitted was actually for a loan. Now, you can say 'I'm a Harvard man', and that is all well and good – until you look around and discover you are only enrolled in the local community college. Moreover, you still have to pay your own way – and with interest.

What is in a name, and what is its cost? Easy can cost you big time. The small cost of a gift is easy – simply reach up to the higher shelf. Philip is clear about the prerequisite.

But if he receives the Holy Spirit, he has the name as a gift.

Philip does not simply mention the taking of a name, but such as it is accomplished through the prerequisite of baptism. What Philip is actually showing us is two types of baptism, or, two types of application: the easy and the thoughtful. The thoughtful application is not hard because is not easy, it is simply thoughtful. The higher shelf is not out of reach, neither is it hidden from us. One must only be thoughtful enough to realize the higher application.

Philip is showing us the difference between the worldly and spiritual application.

He who has received a gift (i.e., by way of reaching up thoughtfully and spiritually,) does not have to give it back, You have gained something that is yours for keeps.

The name 'Christian' is not a worldly name. It is not about the act of baptism. It is not about the act of church attendance. Anything that is merely physical or of the world is just that: merely physical and of the world.

The name 'Christian' is a spiritual name. It is all about the spirit of Christ. Did you receive the spirit during baptism? Good. Do you exercise the spirit of Christ through

church attendance? Good. Can you define the spirit of Christ? Can you give examples from your own experience? If so, very good. You reached for the higher shelf. You were, and still are, thoughtful.

However, if you cannot define the spirit, if you cannot reach into yourself and bring forth examples, then you have not obtained that Holy Spirit that Christ also obtained. All you have done is dance around the outside of the issue. You have only enacted the parts that are still physical and worldly. As Christ would say, you have whited the outside of the sepulcher, not realizing that the dead bones and uncleanness of the physical world are all you have obtained. but of him who has borrowed it at interest, payment is demanded.

What you think you have will be taken away from you, and more besides, but realize this: you never obtained the true currency. When someone gets a loan for college, that money goes to the college, but it is not the college who must pay it back. That must come from your own pound of flesh.

You should know by now, o reader, what it is that I say: “Spiritual is mental is spiritual”.

Consider your Christianity – or lack thereof. Consider your spirituality – or worldliness.

Consider your great wealth – or your poverty. What is in a name? Consider the Holy Spirit (the Holy Mind) of the true Christian.

What is a light bulb that never lights up? It is dark; it is dead. It is nothing but a bulb.

This is the way it happens to one when he experiences a mystery.

Philip, here, expounds on the two core polarities: worldliness and spirituality. He presents them as states of mind with concomitant physical locals. He first of all explains how one may be spiritual in a physical body bound to a physical world. He presents a good case – complete with 'lawyer-speak'.

He who comes out of the world, and so can no longer be detained on the grounds that he was in the world, evidently is above the desire of the [the world, with all of its envy] and fear.

To be free of the world, one must approach the issue of freedom from the inside out. If one, in his mind, rises above the spiritual satellites of physicality and worldliness, one also rises above the physical world. In actuality, one has adopted a positive spiritual condition in place of a negative spiritual condition. He has leapt across the void to ride the satellites of a higher reality. The change is evident in his changed spirit.

He is master over [his flesh]. He is superior to envy.

The old satellites, that is to say: the usual tenants of the worldly mind, are a real handful.

They come from all quarters, with unquenchable demands. Every attention given them only makes them more ill-natured and pugnacious. Philip puts it this way:

If [Legion] comes, they seize him and throttle him. And how will this one be able to escape the great [demonic] powers? How will he be able to [free himself from so many unclean spirits]?

Philip takes a quick look at the contemporary 'church-goer' â&#x20AC;&#x201C; the same rascal that aggravates many of us even in the present. These are they who merely take on the form of change, while within, the spirit is no less worldly, and is not likely ever to be so. They make a big show of it, however. The preacher fell, (back into his true nature) and got caught. He cried and confessed; his congregation received him back again, but he never really had the new mind to begin with. Those evil little satellites stick all over you â&#x20AC;&#x201C; like Velcro tribbles â&#x20AC;&#x201C; for the whole world to see. Philip simply says: There are some who say, "We are faithful" in order that [they may expel] the unclean spirits and the demons. For (but,) if they had the Holy Spirit, no unclean spirit would cleave to them.

The problem being declared, Philip launches immediately into the remedy. Here is his advice: Fear not the flesh nor love it. If you fear it, it will gain mastery over you. If you love it, it will swallow and paralyze you.

That sort of leaves only one path to follow: be the master. However, don't miss this one salient point: to be the master of something, one must include that something inside the mastery. Had the falling preacher been the master, a little casual sex would not have thrown him. He would not have felt guilt, or the need to ask forgiveness. It is the old mind of the world in those who only have the form, and not the substance, who will say stuff like: 'you can't be a Christian is you smoke, drink, have sex', etc.

And so he dwells either in this world or in the resurrection or in the middle place. God forbid that I be found in there!

There are two minds, and three places to be found. Where are you? If you find yourself in the middle place, you are the old you. You are the world. You are there because you are unprepared for the place reserved for new minds. If you find yourself in the world, you are still riding the old satellites, but there is still time and opportunity to make that great leap. Would you like to swing on a star? If you find yourself in the resurrection, you are above it all. You have a new mind; you know. You have new eyes that see things as they really are.

In this world, there is good and evil. Its good things are not good, and its evil things not evil.

You also have a shiny new ticket to the green pastures beyond the desert. Let me try to map it out for you. Imagine a circle. At one pole of the circle is a smaller circle; it is an enclosed area known as the world. At the opposite pole may be found another small circle, and here, I will simply call that the green pastures. There is an even smaller circle

to be found; we find that small enclosure inside the circle known as the world. The smallest circle is the resurrection. It is a fenced in train station, and the track runs across the waste. Its destination – green pastures. Not many find themselves in the train station, but you are there, and you have your ticket ready.

But there is evil after this world which is truly evil - what is called "the middle". It is death.

There is only one train station, and only one track across the desert waste. The only time and place that affords us access to the station is the world. But, how may one acquire a shiny new ticket? That is the real catch – its not going to just fall into your hand. You have to go out and get it. Then, you have to hang on to it: it is not only your access to the train, but, you'll never get past the station gate without it.

While we are in this world, it is fitting for us to acquire the resurrection, so that when we strip off the flesh, we may be found in rest and not walk in the middle.

So, Philip's deal is life and death. Death is the middle place, a place for those wandering spirits who never prepared themselves for life. Guess they were too busy pulling tribbles from their hair to make the great leap to new satellites. No time or inclination for preparations will be found in the lost host. If one wanders in circles in this world, we expect they will do the same in the middle place. If one makes the effort to go straight in this world, we expect them to continue on that same trajectory.

For many go astray on the way. For it is good to come forth from the world before one has sinned.

Since Philip has touched on death, let us inquire into life. Did Christ ever explain what he meant when he used the word life? Yes he did. John 17:3 gives us this explanation of eternal life: Jesus said, “And this is life eternal, that they might know thee the only true God, and Jesus Christ, whom thou hast sent”.

Life is knowledge. Death is ignorance, and the sin of just not trying.

Let's take a good long look at mankind; let us thoroughly plumb humanity. With no regard to the age in which a man lives, the strengths and weaknesses of men are always the same. Philip saw it in his age; many of us can see it in our age.

There are some who neither will nor have the power to; What does Philip mean? To will and to have, or use, one's power to act. To make clearcut, some times hard decisions. To use judgment properly, or at all. To man up to necessary mental functions such as discrimination. We know them. They espouse a live and let live philosophy, which is basically a leave me alone attitude.

Mankind flips, like a toggle, between gross non-confrontation and all-out aggression.

But, there are a few of us who practice the higher functions. We make it our business to seek out what is right, to not only live by it but also to bring the good news of it to our brothers and sisters who are yet in their hour of want. We see them as crossing the street of life and being mere moments from being run over by the uncaring traffic of worldliness. We call to them a warning, and we are vilified.

To judge, to employ discrimination, to take a stand and believe in something – though all are necessary functions of the human condition – these higher abilities of life navigation have come under a shadow. The attitude is altogether rebellious, for when we at last leave the home to take our roles as adults in society, we take with us a resentment of being told what to do, what not to do, what is right and wrong. We had enough of that as children.

We are all aware of the rebellious nature of the adolescent who craves independence, autonomy, whose complaint is that it is just not fair, and that the parents (A.K.A. The ones who tell them what is right) just don't understand. What some of us don't see is that the adolescent rebellion is carried over into the adult philosophy. People simply wish not to be told – anything – ever.

That pretty much sums up the polarity – there are the parental-minded who wish to guide and help, to make things right, and there are the adolescent-minded who rebel at the very thought of being told anything by anyone else, unless it is something they have already told themselves. To paint a complete picture, there are also people to be found with a foot in either camp. They know there is a right and a wrong, but they fail to act decisively as making a choice either way puts them in the bad graces of one or the other of the two camps. and others who, if they will, do not profit; for they did not act since [knowing what is right] makes them sinners.

The adolescent are they who want to plow their fields without a mule. They may be characterized as inexperienced and unlearned. It will take them some time to gain necessary experience. They could take the short cut of learning from those who already have experience – but, they are rebellious, and will not be told. The parental are they who, as the saying goes, have already been around the block. They may be characterized as older and less open to blundering about: they are set in the ways they have discovered to be the most effective.

Of the three, then, we have the rebellious, the ditherers in the middle, and those who are settled into a good way. Of the latter, it is a way they have earned through hardship, and achieved through trial and error – for believe it or not, they were themselves once rebellious. They passed from the adolescent category to the ditherer category, but somehow, rather than falling back or remaining static, they moved forward. They

achieved that by using discrimination, and by being judgmental. They took a stand and settled themselves there, hoping to share their good fortune with others. {“Oh, excuse me, but I have found that using a bottle opener is good and right.”

“I'll continue using my teeth, thank you very much, and stop trying to tell me how to live my life!” }

To be fair, I have to say this. The adolescent mind-set enjoys much elbow room and a free range of movement within their limitation, but I view it more as a holding pattern rather than actually landing the plane. Those who have grown past the adolescent mind set, however, can by their very act of settling achieve their own holding pattern. They can cease to grow.

Here, I am setting the rebellious as first graders, and the parental as second graders.

There is still a lot of room for development. Those who grow may find that they have only a higher limitation.

As in Philip's world, our present world is divided between will and action. Action proceeds from will, and without will is merely spastic. We have a saying about will: (you thought I was going to say, where there's a will, there's a way, but no) the saying is this: it's the thought that counts.

The person who neither wills nor acts is static. The person who wills but fails to act is static. The person who has grown and settled is static. An example of growth/stasis may be found in the concept of sin, which is shared equally between the worldly and the religious mind sets. Religion states that casual sex is a sin. The world will tell the religious person that he can't be religious if he has casual sex (or indeed, if he drinks or smokes, etc.) Both mind sets have settled on the physical action rather than the spirit behind it. As I stated earlier, it is the mind, it is the will, it is the thought that counts.

Jesus had many detractors who sought to find faults in his actions, to point the finger, and accuse him of sin. But Jesus had not settled into a higher limitation; he continued on his path of ascendency. In John 8:46 Jesus asked his detractors: “Which of you convinceth me of sin?”

That is a point that touches on justice, for justice is a matter that 'lifts up' rather than 'drags down'.

This comes from Wikipedia: Justice as a divine law is commanding, and indeed the whole of morality, is the authoritative command. Killing is wrong and therefore must be punished and if not punished what should be done? A famous paradox called the Euthyphro dilemma essentially asks: is something right because God commands it, or does God command it because it's right? If the former, then justice is arbitrary; if the latter, then morality exists on a higher order than God, who becomes little more than a passer-on of moral knowledge. The dilemma is however claimed to be false by some religious apologists, who claim that goodness is the very nature of God and is

necessarily expressed in His commands. Another response is that the laws and moral principles are objective and self-evident in nature. God embodies these laws and is therefore neither higher nor lower than the law. He sets an example for the good people among men to follow His way and also become an embodiment of the highest principles and morals.

The concept of 'highest' principles and morals, cannot be based in actions, and may not be found in static limitations. They are sought after, worked for, maintained. Growth, truth, righteousness, and justice are all hallmarks of the path of ascendency.

And if they do not will, justice will elude them in both cases: and it is always a matter of the will, not the act.

Who will choose salvation? Philip shows us who will not. He shows us the very people that were shown to us in the Bible. As John 3:19 says: “This is the judgment, that the Light has come into the world, and men loved the darkness rather than the Light, for their deeds were evil.”

Philip uses a story to explain this point: An apostolic man in a vision saw some people shut up in a house of fire and bound with fiery [chains], Let us focus for a moment on fire and chains. Hell is often portrayed as fiery: Mk. 9:44 “where the worm dieth not, and the fire is not quenched.”

Chains have been used as a symbol of darkness and ignorance: 2Peter 2:4 “For if God spared not the angels that sinned, but cast them down to hell, and delivered them into chains of darkness, to be reserved unto judgment;”

So, I come to this point: we have in our language an idiom worded: “in the dark” or “left in the dark” which basically means 'uninformed' or 'ignorant of'. lying [on a bed of] flaming [coals, souls roaring], them in [the anguish of darkness where neither light nor] faith [could reach].

The darkness can be a hard thing to deal with; most of our choices follow the pattern of our ignorance. The entire vista of mankind might be seen as a roiling, seething, selfperpetuating scream of agony. How much misinformation/disinformation, how much ignorance is a simple matter of choice!

And he said to them, "[Are you] able to be saved?" [An angel of the Lord answered, saying, “Christ himself has saved them.” The apostolic man asked, “Why then are they not saved?” The angel replied], "They did not desire it. They received [a just] punishment, what is called 'the [outer] darkness', because he [offered the light of truth as salvation]."

Philip tries to put his thoughts in a clearer perspective. He is thinking of origins. He is thinking of combinations, and offspring. In other words: where do certain realities come from? What are the mechanics of their production? Philip dares a definition of the elements that is more concise.

It is from water and fire that the soul and the spirit came into being.

First combination: fire and water. First product or products: soul and spirit. The combination of fire and water speaks to me of volatility, of each canceling the other out, or of reaching a middle state, of smoke and steam, and things of the air. Only two elements are mentioned; the inference of a third element is not of Philip, but rather something I project.

As to the product, or offspring, of the union of fire and water, it is unclear if Philip wished us to understand a single outcome embodied in two terms, or two separate outcomes. Indeed, most people, I think, interpret soul and spirit as interchangeable words. At this juncture, no definition is offered of either term, as if the reader is expected to know.

Just for reference, I here include my own take on that matter. Spirit is the mind with all of its invisible satellites. Soul, to me, is the whole identity of an individual, which includes both the physical and the immaterial.

It is from water and fire and light that the son of the bridal chamber (came into being).

Whereas the first combination gave us the worldly individual, the second combination, with its addition of a higher element, must necessarily give us a higher individual. That higher individual is named as the son, and is set in contrast to the worldly being. I would say that, here, Philip refers to himself as the offspring of the first combination, and to Jesus as the offspring of the second.

What we see, then, is an ordinary and commonly understood combination and its product in the first place. However, in the second place, we are not shown a combination of three elements, but a combination of two. The water/fire combination, taken as a synthesis of two elements that are striving toward equilibrium, speaks of the seeker, and does so from a ceremonial point of view.

Earth is not mentioned in Philip's list of elements. It is the element that seekers want to rise above. Philip's list begins at water, the baptism, the washing away of the old man.

Then is added fire, an important ceremonial element of communication between God and man. God communicated his very nature in fire, as the language of that day attests.

Moreover, in the ceremonial use of fire, man returned the call by answering with a sweet savor, or something that was no longer physical.

Now, man could not offer himself to God through a normal fire, for that destroyed the combination already achieved. Man could, however, offer himself through the internal

fire of his originating constituency: water and fire: soul and spirit. Now, here is Philip's attempt at definition.

The fire is the chrism, the light is the fire.

Philip completely drops the element of water to focus solely on two types of fire. These are the fire of the first combination, and the fire of the second combination, or light.

Both the fire and the light are types of fire. Philip states that one has form and one does not. Surprisingly, these separate fires are presented serially, as stemming from one another, or phasing back and forth. Philip also mentions the Chrism, of which he had gone into some detail earlier.

It is clear in Philip's interpretation of the concept of Chrism that it was a higher form of Myrrh, a spiritual anointing of the fire that is the light. Christ received Myrrh as an individual of the world, and later, a higher, spiritual anointing. As to form, one fire has no form, another does.

God is spiritual, he has no form. What he communicated into us originally, his very nature (spirituality) was the fire without form. It is what made us a living soul, but at the same time, it set us up to receive the higher fire, the Chrism. In that the fire has phased into a light with form, it speaks of something that is noticeable in physical man. That noticeable light in the upgraded man, though spiritual, is a thing that can be discerned by physical man. Note the transfiguration of Christ. (Mk. 9:29) Note the face of Moses upon his return (Ex. 34:29-30).

I am not referring to that fire which has no form, but to the other fire whose form is white, which is bright and beautiful, and which gives beauty.

One may not adequately approach the work of Philip without a prior understanding of the Canon. Much of his writing is dedicated to an expanded view of scripture. Here, for example, when he speaks of types and images, the individual of only a worldly mind will fall short, become frustrated, and resort to labeling, the least offensive being that Philip is a Gnostic.

Philip, as some of us realize, is just as much a seeker of spiritual truth as are we. He travels the Highway of Ascension just slightly ahead of us. He calls back to us. We would most certainly not understand his language had we not poured ourselves into the same studies and meditations as he.

Truth did not come into the world naked, but it came in types and images.

There is a scriptural counter part to Philip's opening remark. It is a remark made by the Son: Matt. 12:33: â&#x20AC;&#x153;The tree is known by his fruitâ&#x20AC;?.

We understand from this that every spirit, or mind-set, has a corresponding worldly manifestation. These 'fruit' may be divided by type: apples and oranges if you will.

The spirit of truth is a type of tree that bears an elusive fruit. This spirit's worldly manifestation does not fall from the tree; it is not easily gathered. Neither is it easy to pull from the tree. Aside from the prerequisite of being advanced enough to identify the fruit, the seeker who desires it must really put some labor into the harvest.

The world will not receive truth in any other way.

This is not an accusation of the non-seeker, but rather a simple statement of fact. We are in the world; we are images and types. Although we may rise above it, we may not fully escape our physicality. Our brains are both worldly and physical, and the cords we must stoke this engine with are solid. This little engine of ours runs on words and concepts, visual and other sensory input, all of which are only a manifestation of something that cannot be incorporated into our individual spirits otherwise.

That is precisely why our language is rife with examples, idioms, allegories, parables, fables, stories, and proverbs. Through the symbolic language of the phoenix, for example, we understand all new beginnings, and anything that comes back around. The sweet savor is a shared communication that has been before, and will be again. It rises to our nostrils from the ash upon the altar.

There is a rebirth and an image of rebirth. It is certainly necessary to be born again through the image. Which one? Resurrection.

We have had Jesus-es before Jesus; we have had resurrections before the cross. They are, all of them, worldly manifestations of the communication of new beginnings. The fruit tree bears its fruit again and again, according to its season. The message has come around before and will come around again. We simply cannot hope to understand a Jesus or a cross apart from their worldly manifestations.

The image must rise again through the image.

Curious statement, but we know this phoenix will rise again. Resurrection is an image; Jesus is an image, and this image of a new beginning may only come to us through the image of a Jesus. There is obviously a set of spiritual mechanics at play, things we cannot yet see, but like Philip before us, we examine, knowing full well that if we but find and press the right button, this elevator (to put it in our symbolic parlance) will lift us to higher plateaus of truth.

The bridal chamber and the image must enter through the image into the truth: this is the restoration.

This, then, is the formula. There is a connection of opposites â&#x20AC;&#x201C; the unseen spiritual 'Yin' with the apparent worldly 'Yang'. To reach this truth, one must enter through the image of this truth. One might view such action as passing through a portal into a hidden realm.

Perhaps that is why Jesus referred to himself as a door.

He said in John 14:6: “No man cometh unto the father, but by me.” He also said, in John 14:9: “He that hath seen me hath seen the father.”

Jesus was the fruit of a spiritual tree we call God. It is like an acorn saying, 'if you have seen the acorn, you have seen the oak'. Jesus was the worldly manifestation of a spiritual communication of restoration to a higher type, and of the phoenix-like rise through the projected image of its next higher incarnation.

It is an integral stage in the process of 'rising up' to not only reach the trinitarian union within oneself, but to communicate the same to the next in line. Jesus communicated that to his disciples, who in turn communicated it to the apostles (disciples of disciples) who in turn communicate that same union of opposites through the portal of the image to seekers such as you and I. Note in the following that Philip deliberately speaks to the reader.

Not only must those who produce the name of the Father and the Son and the Holy Spirit, do so, but have produced them for you.

This, to me, is summed up in the symbolism of the tree referred to by Christ. The acorn taken from the oak may in turn become the next oak.

In that regard, Jesus had this to say in John 12:24: “Except a corn of wheat fall into the ground and die, it abideth alone: but if it die, it bringeth forth much fruit.”

So we, too, must rise up through the door of the image into the truth, and through the union of the bridal chamber obtain within ourselves the Son, God who communicated the Son, and the Holy Spirit communicated by the Son. These are more important than the name of 'Christian', and I'll tell you why.

We take the name Christian thinking to be like Christ – but who is Christ like? He is like God; and, how is he like God? He is like God through the Holy Spirit. You simply cannot have one without all three.

If one does not acquire them, the name ("Christian") will also be taken from him.

Refer back to the difference between a grant and a loan. Refer back to the Eucharist, the baptism, the cross, the communion and communication. Images all. How do we understand 'unction'? Obviously, through the image of it.

The ointment of healing and consecration symbolizes the setting right, the rising up, and the communication of the same. To obtain the Son is to have the father also, for the father and son are united in spirit (that is, in mind.) God, who is named Holy, is a spirit (a mind, or rather, the mind.) The Holy Spirit, who is also named Holy, is the mind of God, both obtained and communicated, held and given, uniting the flesh to the spirit through the image of what our potential will achieve.

But one receives the unction of the [Holy One, that he may be a communicator] of the power of the cross.

Someone who actually knew Jesus, what he had obtained and what he shared, said this in 1 John 2:20: â&#x20AC;&#x153;You have an unction from the Holy One, and you know all things.â&#x20AC;?

For this, one must be a seeker; one must labor long hours, both to receive and to share the fruit found only on the tree of truth. To imbibe such fruit makes one the image of such fruit, for one is what one eats. That is how Jesus (an image) could say that he was the truth. Imbibing the bread of life makes one life. Eating the image of the door (communion) makes one the door. The spiritual and the corporeal are locked in earnest union, and you may not have the one without the other. You cannot have a right or a left without the real and present reference of its counterpart.

This power the apostles called "the right and the left." For this person is no longer a Christian but a Christ.

One of the issues Philip strives to resolve is 'balance'. Many seemingly diverse factors must be taken into account, and admittedly, Philip struggles in some of the steeper climbs.

If one could see the particles which are engaged in Brownian Movement, they would at first seem to work against each other. Each particle has its own trajectory, and moves at its own prescribed velocity, being bounded by other particles operating under similar rules. But, for all the jiggling and jangling, the whole strives for balance. Each piece of the whole, you can be sure, seeks its own proper place.

Those of us who remember opening a new jig-saw puzzle, and pouring out the pieces for the first time can relate to the labor Philip has set for himself. You pick up a piece, which gives no clue, and wonder where it goes. Do you work it immediately, or save it for later? The single tenet of your faith, however, is that it fits somewhere into the big picture.

If you are honest, you must admit that what you are working to solve is a mystery to you. If you already knew what the big picture was, you would not be trying to figure it out. Philip's puzzle did not come packaged with an image of the finished work on the top of the box. Philip honestly admits that he is attempting to fit mystery puzzle pieces into a mystery puzzle.

The Lord did everything in a mystery, What are some of the pieces Philip hopes to put in place? a baptism and a chrism and a eucharist and a redemption and a bridal chamber.

As fellow sleuths with Philip, let us work to solve the mystery. Usually, when I have worked a puzzle, I begin by sorting the pieces into types: outside pieces and inside pieces. I work the outer side first in order to have a framework within which to achieve my goal. Then, I might continue on to sort inside pieces by color and shape. I will not know the orientation until I turn a piece that final time before snapping it firmly in place.

So, what must we do here? We must sort and type. We must find common attributes to accomplish our work of sorting and typing. Philip gives us five puzzle pieces to sort, and to type according to their common attributes. Where do we start? How do we move forward?

Beginning with the mystery of baptism, we look for a handle, something to grasp. A quick understanding of baptism would begin here: that it is a physical act intended to symbolize something more than the physical. Dare we assume the spiritual, here?

Baptism is a symbol of washing away, or the death and burial of the old man.

Some may see in this a rejection of man's physical inclinations, and a preference for the newness of spirituality. In short, the view would be that of swapping out one thing for another. However, and this is my input, a more functional view might be the overcoming of the limitation of one-sidedness by way of combining the two.

This well may be the handle we are looking for. Can we see a common thread between the mystery of baptism, and the other four mysteries? Chrism: the anointing of the worldly body with the Holy Spirit as symbolized by the application of perfumed oil during the laying on of hands(another combination).

Eucharist: union of the physical to the spiritual. In this regard, I offer a quote from Fr. Alexander Schmemann, “Thus, the kingdom of God is the content of the Christian faith — the goal, the meaning and the content of the Christian life. According to the unanimous witness of all scripture and tradition, it is the knowledge of God, love for him, unity with him and life in him. The kingdom of God is unity with God, the source of all life, indeed life itself. It is life eternal: “And this is eternal life, that they know thee” (John 17:3).”

Redemption: is often symbolized in the body and blood of Christ, or the bread and wine of the communion. Here, I offer a quote from Charles Stanley: “The Last Supper, which took place hours before the Lord’s crucifixion—was a Seder (Passover observance).

Previously, the feast’s symbols had only pointed back to the Hebrews’ redemption from Egypt. But that Thursday night, Jesus revealed the messianic significance of two symbols: bread and wine.

In a Seder, a cloth bag with separate compartments holds three sheets of matzoh, or unleavened bread. The middle matzoh is removed and split. One half is broken and distributed; the other is wrapped in a napkin, hidden, and bought back after it is found.

Breaking the bread, Jesus said, “Take, eat; this is My body” (Matthew 26:26). In Scripture, leaven symbolizes sin, so bread without yeast represents holy God. In the divided bag, matzohs are unified yet distinct—a picture of the Trinity. The middle bread signifies the Son, who left His Father’s side to dwell among us (Galatians 4:4) and was broken for mankind (Isaiah 53:5), wrapped in a burial cloth (Matthew 27:59), hidden in a tomb (v.

60), and resurrected (28:6). Our redemption was, indeed, costly (1 Corinthians 6:20).

Wine, the other symbol Jesus highlighted, is poured four times at a Seder. Scholars believe it is the third cup—known as the cup of redemption—that He called “My blood of the covenant, which is poured out for many for forgiveness of sins” (Matthew 26:27–28).”

In the symbols for redemption, we may properly see an infusion of Christ, or, a combination with the essence of Christ – a union that alleviates an individual of his limitations (slavery to the world, or body of sin). To be infused with Christ is to be like Christ (not like Jesus, but like Jesus anointed with the Holy Spirit of God).

By now, we should all be aware of what Philip meant by the Bridal Chamber. It is the intimate and secret place of union that produces an offspring: a combination of two parents, not a substitution of one for the other. Philip explains balance through union.

[When Christ was among us] he said, "I came to make the things below like the things above, and the things outside like those inside. I came to unite them in the place."

Obviously, Philip has some of the puzzle already pieced together, and he is gathering a rudimentary mental image of the big picture – through those few pieces he already has in place.

[These things we may only know] here through types [, and we may only see them in types]and images.

Who is the man of heaven? How high may we assume the heavens extend? Philip here addresses the issue of the 'heavenly man', an issue, it would appear, that did not originate with Philip. According to commonly held notions, there was not only a type of man more evolved than ordinary folk, but there was also a type superior to the heavenly type.

This kind of thinking smacks of the ancient 'seventh heaven' cosmology.

We might, similarly, assign seven echelons of ascendancy, but let's not. Like Philip, let us draw a line here and say, “No more!” The assignment of seven separate levels of heaven, or seven separate levels of ascendancy only establishes, promotes, and prolongs separatism. Philip begins with a firm declaration to that effect.

Those who say, "There is a heavenly man and there is one above him" are wrong.

My own thought on the matter of ascendancy is that one is continuously added to, ever greater yet always the same. Jesus was not a higher type of man, composed of different flesh; Jesus was the same as you and I. When one advances, one does not throw on a uniform and insignia, or a suit and tie, as if to say 'I am different, I am higher, I am better'. One simply improves by adding what is better and/or removing what is worse.

Ultimately, it will be found to be, not a matter of separate levels, but a more basic and fundamental matter of 'either or'. Either you are on the higher path, or you are not. You are either making the you that is into something more, or you are not. It is man's

arbitrary decision alone that sets as different the man we may see and the man we may know.

For it is the first of these two heavenly men, the one who is revealed, that they call "the one who is below"; and he to whom the hidden belongs is that one who is above him.

It really is a simpler matter than man makes it out to be. It is also a matter of one's vantage point â&#x20AC;&#x201C; for that affects one's interpretation. Consider, for example, the interpretation of a cup of water.

One interpretation may be from the vantage point of the cup â&#x20AC;&#x201C; that is: the cup of water is defined by the cup. The cup has a handle on the outside only, and will interpret its totality by the external condition, that is: whether it is cracked or whole, big or small, clean or dirty.

Another interpretation may be from the vantage point of the water â&#x20AC;&#x201C; that is: the cup of water is defined by the water. The water is internal, fluid in nature (continuous change is the nature of water), and knows both the cup in which it is contained, and its changing condition, that is: whether or not it is cut off from its source, in a state of evaporation, contamination, or purification. It knows the shape of the cup it is in, but will take other shapes while remaining the same.

If the cup breaks, and the water runs out into the saucer, the cup becomes lost and useless, while the water knows itself by the shape of the saucer it is in. Of the two vantage points, the one that is inside seems more versatile, and therefore, more likely to continue in the face of changes that wreck the external. A heavenly man may thus be viewed as a cup that is aware it contains clean water. The one above, then, should be viewed as the water inside, that is connected to its source in both the giving and receiving.

For it would be better for them to say, "The inner and outer, and what is outside the outer".

I would have to say with Philip that the inner man has a more complete interpretation and self-possession as it includes both the inside with the outside. An interpretation that is based solely in the external is limited, and disconnected from its totality. The acknowledgment of the internal is not the same as including it into one's interpretation of self. Neither is it the same as embracing such change as spells out certain destruction and loss of purpose from that particular vantage point.

Because of this, the Lord called destruction the "the outer darkness": there is not another outside of it.

There are not seven layers to heaven, to ascendancy, or to death and destruction. There is only the two together where one increases and one diminishes, or there is the one who disconnects and diminishes alone.

One of the world's complaints against God tags him as a white bearded 'sky Daddy'. The world, as we see, separates itself. It disconnects. It limits itself. Then, it places the position of its rant anywhere but in itself: the sky, the past, the future. The world does not acknowledge its inner self, because the true place where God may be found is in each and every one of us.

He said, "My Father who is in secret".

God is to be found in the secret inner man, the man who freely flows out of one broken holder and into another, knowing that destruction is a part of his moving onward and upward.

He said, "Go into your chamber and shut the door behind you, and pray to your Father who is in secret" (Mt 6:6), the one who is within them all.

Unlike the outer man, who disconnects, the inner man makes the connection. The inner man embraces both the temporary part of continuousness, and the continuous part of all things temporary. The inner man is intimately knowledgeable of his source, always receiving from the whole, becoming whole, and returning to the source all that makes the whole even greater.

But that which is within them all is the fullness.

As there is nothing more beyond the outer darkness, there is nothing beyond the fullness of the inner light. What the world sets as separate and above man is actually the combined nature of God and man just below the skin.

Beyond it, there is nothing else within it. This is that of which they say, "That which is above them".

There is a dynamic to the following thought, a dynamic that calls out to passing seekers.

We are stopped; we tilt our head to one side and another, hoping the call will draw us in.

Philip heard the call and recorded it. Now, it is our turn to explore it in depth.

What is the dynamic of this thought? It is 'before' and 'after'. It is movement beyond a point which there is no return. In the 'before', there is loss. In the 'after', there is the institution of a new policy. Philip presents us with 'before'.

Before Christ, some came from a place they were no longer able to enter, and they went where they were no longer able to come out.

Two things come immediately to mind. One is the fallen angel. Two is the outcast Adam.

The angel left his first estate (first state) and went to earth to mingle with humanity. The door closed behind him, and he was locked out. Adam, with arm around weeping Eve, paused just outside paradise. He turned to glance back at the angel, who with fiery sword in hand, barred all access. What a difference a choice makes!

This is important, and we need to stop long enough to understand what we are reading. It was important enough for Philip to write it from both ends. Indeed, this issue may be seen equally from either end of the spectrum. Not only is the leaving an act of transition, but the arrival elsewhere is a becoming of something else entirely.

It is a simple sentence, but there is a lesson to be learned here by all of us in regard to choices. Each and every choice we make shapes the definition of our existence. In second guessing, we sometimes wonder what would have happened had we gone a different way in life. Had I remained in the Navy, for example, had I taken into myself the military life style, and retired from service still relatively young, what would have happened?

The answer is simple. It would have obliterated many of the avenues I have followed since my departure from service so many years ago. The people that figure prominently in my life today would, in all likelihood, be unknown to me. My nature and temperament, no doubt, would be wholly different. For many people, a simple choice can mean the difference between who is born and who is not.

Then, there is the whole spiritual side of the issue â&#x20AC;&#x201C; the choices that shape who we are inside, meaning: how high we may ascend, or how low we will fall. The transitions which occur in the present scenario are permanent. When an angel falls, he is fallen for all time. When Adam paused to glance back, he knew he was dead to God and paradise.

There was no going back.

I thought about the issue, attempting to find some mental image that would clearly define the change equally from both ends of the spectrum. I settled on this: a cup of pure water sits in a saucer. The saucer is filled with black ink. The water swells to the point where a single drop spills over the rim. It slowly rolls down the side of the cup.

Two things are certain at this point: it is not in the nature of the water drop to reverse its descent, for one, and two: once the drop reaches and mingles with the ink that is in the saucer, all purity is lost. One may even go so far as to say that the identity of the drop is lost as well. The ink may be watered down, but it is still black.

Then, there is the new policy. The permanence is removed from the transition. But, note the tense of the wording. Where one would expect to be brought into the present and current condition, Philip continues to speak in the past tense.

If you are like me, you have no problem seeing the image of a door in what Philip describes. Indeed, the reference is plain. Christ referred to himself as a door. In John 10:9 Christ said, â&#x20AC;&#x153;I am the door: by me if any man enter in, he shall be saved, and shall go in and outâ&#x20AC;?.

In this, our minds understand that Christ is the door to the sheepfold. Those who go in and out are those who belong to Jesus. The problem here is that Philip continues his thought in the past tense.

Then Christ came. Those who went in, he brought out, and those who went out, he brought in.

So, Philip may not be talking about you and me. Philip may not even be talking about himself. There is a chance, however, that Philip refers to the fallen ones. Remember the drop of water? It ceased to be water when it mingled with the ink. Likewise, I am able to interpret fallen angels as no longer angels, for they became what they mingled with.

Therein may lie the definition for 'chains of darkness' (ignorance). They see themselves as men rather than angels, indeed, they are men and undergo every last nuance of the human condition.

Here, we may think on the death of Adam. Our immediate complaint has been that he did not really die, he was simply cast out. In fact, he went on to live nearly a thousand years – pretty damn close to immortality, I'd say. Yet, the other end of the spectrum may offer up a better understanding. For all who went in or out, for all still to go in or out: the door is no longer locked. It swings both ways.

As a doorway home, we may interpret Christ as a redeemer. As to the redemption of any man (or fallen angel), a common understanding of the word 'redeem' is extremely telling. In regard to man's salvation, it means to be 'recovered', or 'returned' to a previous condition within the grace of God. But, to what condition may a man be redeemed – the condition of a man – which may be no redemption at all – or the condition of an angel?

Philip had an understanding of the Yin and Yang: the double nature of all things. Some people may reject the entire spiritual realm as fantasy, but they must still admit that to every up there is a down, to every in there is an out, etc.

Philip, here, does not approach the entire vista of twos; here, he only deals with the Yin and Yang of being born again. He is sorting extant information in an attempt at a cohesive mental image of ascendancy. He begins with the two: Christ and the Holy Spirit. He is examining the symbolism within actual fact. The opening statement is : Through the Holy Spirit we are indeed begotten again, but we are begotten through Christ in the two.

How does one interpret such a statement? Common thinking naturally will choose one or the other. Yet, Philip asserts that both have a function in the process. What may not be immediately apparent to the modern mind is the layered associations that attach to all things in the minds of that time.

Philip mentions Christ and the Holy Spirit, but he also mentions being born again. The attached layers would then be baptism and the Holy Spirit resting on Jesus. Further associations involve water and light, the anointing of ascension and self-awareness, or self-actualization. One may also see that the union of the Bridal Chamber is implied in these same associations. Philip explains:

We are anointed through the Spirit. When we were begotten, we were united.

Philip began by saying we are born again through the Spirit, but now he is saying we are anointed through the Spirit. Does he see these as one and the same? Let us refresh our minds on the topic of anointing.

Wikipedia states: “People and things are anointed to symbolize the introduction of a sacramental or divine influence, a holy emanation, spirit, power or God.” So then, this is the rub – man recognizes and accepts something more than the purely physical. Man self-actualizes, and in his self-awareness, his self-more-ness, he admits there is more to his reality than those things which may simply be quantified.

Indeed, Philip's own words take a turn toward self-awareness. In doing so, his explanation employs the double of 'water and light'. As we recall, the associations here are both to Christ and the holy Spirit, as well as to 'baptism and anointing'. He says: None can see himself either in water or in a mirror without light. Nor again can you see (yourself) in light without mirror or water. For this reason, it is fitting to baptize in the two, in the light and the water.

One is not baptized in secret, in the night, but rather in the bright daylight. This is not so much that others may see the man coming up from the water into the light, but that the man may see himself. What should he see, then? To what change is he made self-aware?

I ask these questions not to point at symbolisms; we know that baptism symbolizes a washing away of the old man, and birth of the new. I ask: what is man aware of beyond the symbolism?

Does he know, for example, that he just relinquished former limitations? Does he know he was just in the Bridal Chamber? Does he realize he is now the Yin and Yang of flesh and spirit? He has walked up out of the water; the light rests upon him. It is the first step along a road that defies measurement.

So, back to the original 'two'. The two are united; we are introduced into the two through Christ, also, the union is introduced into us through Christ. Philip has already pointed out that we know and do all things through the 'image' of the actual fact. Christ is that image of our being begotten again through the Holy Spirit. Christ is the image of the self-actualized man: a man into whom the very spirit of God has been introduced.

That self-actualization is the anointing. It is the application of Christ-likeness, by which when we look into the mirror of self-awareness, we see the renewed image of Christ.

Philip closes his argument on one specific point: the Chrism. He has said many things about the Chrism, but here he says the light is the Chrism – and he had just alluded to

the Holy Spirit as the light.

Let us refresh our minds on Philip's thoughts about the Chrism. Now, I will list what Philip has said in regard to the Chrism, but it is up to the reader to make the proper associations. It is the seekers responsibility to place each Yin and Yang together correctly. [“It is from the olive tree that we got the Chrism, and from the Chrism, the resurrection.”

“The Lord did everything in a mystery, (an image) a baptism and a Chrism and a Eucharist and and a Redemption and a Bridal Chamber.”

“The Chrism is superior to baptism, for it is from the word “Chrism” that we have been called Christians.”

“It is because of the Chrism that “The Christ” has his name.”

“There are some things hidden through those visible. There is water in water, there is fire in Chrism.”

“The fire is the Chrism, the light is the fire.”

“But when it is revealed, then the perfect light will flow out on every one. And all those who are in it will receive the Chrism.”]

Now the light is the chrism.

Speaking of Yin and Yang, Philip continues in that vein, considering how the spiritual Jesus mirrored the corporeal Jesus, and how the two worked together as the sum of their parts.

How does the seeker interpret Christ? If Christ is a spirit, then physical man may not grasp him. If Christ is a man, then his presence and persona, Indeed his physical self, lacks the wherewithal of spiritual influence. Christ must be viewed both as man and spirit. The very effectiveness of a Christ must, then, hinge upon the completeness that Philip ponders. There must be both, and they must be united here where the work is needful.

Jesus appeared [as the ascending man rising from the river] Jordan - the fullness of the Kingdom of Heaven.

Philip's concept of that united spiritual/corporeal being is housed compactly in the

expression “fullness of the kingdom of Heaven”. The mutual reflections of Christ not only transcend the two realities: spiritual and corporeal, but span the whole measure of the space/time continuum.

He was before existence as we are aware of it, having arisen from a past that may well be our present, and returning to us, he strengthens his work in such a manner as to permit us to travel that same circuit with him. For us, he becomes the circuit.

He who was begotten before everything, was begotten anew.

All things that concern his ascendancy, he freely shares with corporeal man, that corporeal man, too, may achieve the transcendent nature. The worldly limitation must fall by the way, must acquiesce to the union of physical and spiritual. As the man Jesus arose from the Jordan river, having washed away the worldly man, and having the spirit come down to rest on him, so too must all forward moving men and women be anointed.

He who was once anointed, was anointed anew.

Now, I'll bet you can understand exactly what I am saying – sort of. You can see the connection (Yin and Yang wise) of a birth before existence and a birth before transcendence. You can understand the anointed one in spirit also being anointed as the image from which we discern anointing for ourselves. You see both sides, and all parts working together in unison – but then, you stall out when you try to think of Christ, in any way, as needing redemption.

However, the very construction of Philip's intellection leads inevitably to the fact that one reflection must be equal to the other. It is impossible for a savior to redeem another individual without first knowing personal redemption himself. I assert here that a Christ offers to man, not something outside himself, but something of himself: something personal.

How can this be? Consider the very words of Christ in this regard: Mk. 12:29, “And Jesus answered him, the first of all the commandments is, Hear, O Israel; The Lord our God is one Lord”.

John. 10:30, “I and my Father are one”.

John 17:11, “Holy Father, keep through thine own name those whom thou hast given me, that they may be one, as we are”.

John 17:21, “That they all may be one; as thou, Father, art in me, and I in thee, that they also may be one in us”.

John 17:22-23, “And the glory which thou gavest me I have given them; that they may be one, even as we are one: I in them, and thou in me , that they may be made perfect in one”.

Although none of us may yet fully comprehend, we may still follow the logic: God gave

Jesus the glory, that made them one. To make man one with Christ and God, Christ does not give something outside of himself, rather, he gives exactly what God gave to him.

Did God give something outside of himself? No, he gave himself, and only himself – it is only in that manner that God and Christ can be one. When Christ gave redemption, he did not give something other than himself, he gave only himself – it is in this manner alone that man and Christ may be one.

He who was redeemed, in turn redeemed (others).

Philip ends his contemplation on an eye-opening note: a note I am happy to receive.

Being redeemed and giving redemption are two halves of a whole – they are one, and they work in unison. Both are part of the nature of Christ, the ascending man.

The order of things is quite specific – generally speaking. Everything has its own place and time. Tradition is built on this tenet. Absolutes and ideals are the usual suspects. It is like the Mexican who cannot imagine food without salsa, or the redneck who cannot eat without a biscuit on the plate.

Concepts calcify. Over time, they become pearls of great value to the bearer. So it is that Philip offers us a pearl – and nowhere does this pearl shine brighter than in its original setting. However, those of us today cannot examine this jewel without immediately noticing the inequality of its component parts.

The reasoning develops from common knowledge to middle-eastern, male-dominant -specific defense reaction. Much of modern thought has evolved beyond chest-thumping male dominance, but as seekers, in order to properly explore Philip's thinking, we must keep things, at least for now, in their proper places.

Philip speaks again of the bridal chamber.

Well, of course, it cannot be for the animals. Animals know way too much freedom for that. There is no tradition with animals. There is no preamble, no ritual, no special circumstance or consideration – just, Bam! A bridal chamber is not for the animals, Again, the Bridal Chamber is not for slaves – at least, according to Philip. But, why? Is this just more middle eastern inequality? Is it all about position? (Maybe the chamber was not granted to the common man either, but then, in those days, a lot of common men ended up as slaves anyway.) Of course as we all know, slaves had all those open fields to spawn in, and barns on a rainy day. Chambers were places for special people: proud noble men. nor is it for the slaves,

Again, proud noble men took the women folk into the Bridal Chambers with them, but not just any old women folk. Among women, there was the right kind and every other kind. It was the right kind only that best served the purpose of the Bridal Chamber. It was a serious business when a son became a man. At that special time in the family line, when a new beginning was called for, something used just wouldn't do. nor for defiled women; It is easy to see, the argument is couched in male-dominant terminology. but it is for free men and virgins.

Free men thought of themselves as free men, but obviously, it was just as needful for the man to be a virgin, that is to say: undefiled. The core issue of being undefiled is a precursor to spiritual purity. The undefiled Bridal Chamber produced an undefiled heir to the family line: a noble, a free man, a man not in bondage.

In speaking of Bridal Chambers, Philip points to the spiritual through the corporeal image. The spiritual Bridal Chamber continues the family line of the free and noble and pure. It is separate from the condition of bondage. As such, baptism plays its proper role in purity, anointing takes its proper place to set a man above animals and slaves as noble.

The husband (Jesus), upon entering the Chamber, must find his equally pure counterpart in the church (virgin). The individual, then, being the product of purity, anointed and thoroughly washed, is lifted into the family line as a new heir.

Philip continues here with a slightly different take on the Bridal Chamber theme.

Previously, Philip alluded to both God and the Chrism using such words as 'fire' and 'light'. He is quoted in regard of the Chrism thus: “The fire is the Chrism, the light is the fire.”

Anyone who has read about God knows that scripture describes him as a 'consuming fire'. On the other hand, what God consumes is not necessarily destroyed, as the example of the burning bush teaches us. King David, in the Book of Psalms, would say such things as: “The Lord is my light and salvation” and “In thy light we see light”.

In the creation story, God created the heavens and the earth, that is to say: God created the spiritual and the corporeal (refer back to the Yin and Yang). The order of that creation lists 'heavens', or the spiritual, as first and/or most important. Then upon the void of the earth, the first thing God established was light, dividing it from and setting it over the dark, thus creating the earth's first Yin and Yang, reflecting creation itself.

God is light, he created light, and his first reaction to light is that he liked it. Our day and night is an image of heaven and earth. Each comprise a totality wherein one part absorbs from the other part, only to be absorbed in turn. The first and second Yin and Yang are followed by a third, and we see that one in the garden of Eden, where the cycle of life and death finds its beginning.

More importantly, in regard to the garden, and as we have already seen, the light of God's creation was usurped by the dark powers who effectively removed the light of God from man. They re-fashioned man in their image: an image of limitation, and rejection of the higher nature. Man, then, could not see, as David had said, light within light, because his light had been changed into darkness.

In effect, Yang rebelled against, and rejected Yin. All the little Yin/Yang models running around had their Yin parts removed. Man was enslaved to limitation. All of mankind's history, all of his religious worship and all of his rejection of religious worship, together, have played into the hands of the powers. Yang took it all for itself forgetting that it was but half of a whole, not thinking that anything it could absorb from Yin, Yin in turn could re-absorb.

But, the light shines through, and that light puts a man under the radar. Philip says: The powers do not see those who are clothed in the perfect light, To every Parry there is a Riposte. and consequently are not able to detain them.

Philip has addressed the purpose of the powers. They have taken man away from the light. We are stolen goods. Their purpose is to detain man, to enslave man. So far, it has not mattered whether a person was a believer or a non-believer, as both sides of that issue have played into their hands.

We may say then that for all their agnosticism or atheism, there is something valid beyond the unbelief of the unbeliever. We may say, likewise, of the religious practitioner that there is a crucial component beyond the grasp of their practice.

Philip offered a bit of cryptic advice. Among the whole range of self-limiting nonbelievers, as well as failed believers, there are a group who reach beyond what is presently acceptable. Those of us who know we are an image of the Yin and Yang, reach through the cracks for our lost Yin. In that we are images, the measures whereby we consolidate our separated natures are also images. Philip calls them sacraments. However, it is within these 'things' and 'physical actions' that we approach the Bridal Chamber.

One will clothe himself in this light sacramentally in the union.

Faith, as the contemporary religious establishment practices it, can be just as much of an insurmountable wall as is that of self-limitation and non-belief. A seeker finds himself exactly between that rock and that hard place, reaching through the cracks to lay hold on something more. Although he is outside the circle of 'non', neither is he some failed creature such as a 'sinner saved by grace'.

A 'saved' sinner is no longer a sinner. The seeker does not seek to remain where he is; the whole point of seeking is to move forward, to rise above, to be whole.

The parable of the prodigal son offers insight into the necessary nature of a seeker. At first, the son represented the limitation of non-belief. The choice of rejection placed the young man on the path of attrition and eventual death. The return of the son represented the mindset of the church-goer who seeks only to remain upon his knees. The reaction of the father teaches us that we may only be redeemed to the former state of a son in the full grace of the father under one condition. We must stand on our feet, wear the shoes, robe, and ring of the family, and in the feast, accept nothing less than full restoration.

Philip has invested much of his thought into the topic of the Bridal Chamber. He has previously named the matter a 'mystery', and now, he returns to the concept. Admittedly, the undertones of this topic are sexual. As we have seen before, the free man and the virgin engage one another in secret. Philip has called this union a 'moment of ease' for the father, in which he sires his progeny. The father communicates information about himself, the entire packet, into the virgin, where it is incorporated into the final product of an heir. In effect, the father has made a copy of himself that will assume full authority and ownership in the father's stead.

Philip is exploring spiritual mechanics. Something begins, proceeds, and culminates; Philip seeks to understand just what that is. How does a spiritual God recreate himself in a corporeal heir? How may a corporeal heir reach a point where he, too, may enter the same spiritual rest as the father before him? This topic puts a whole new spin on the 'day of rest', that is to say, the Sabbath of God. Indeed, one must utter a mystery.

And God rested on the seventh day. Now, we see that rest as a moment of conjugal ease.

The mystery of the great invisible chamber. A secret place where secret things happen, and yet, from which all things proceed. Through this line of thought, the possibility of a previous Sabbath opens up to us, in that creation, as it is recorded, may be the result of a previous moment of ease.

It seems quite like the layering involved in the craft of candle making. Layer upon layer are applied until the end product is a vague reflection of the wick within. The end product, then, is an item of use whereby a fire may slowly use up the layers to reinvent the light of which the wick, itself, is but a dim reflection.

The Father of everything united with the virgin who came down, and a fire shone for him on that day.

What must we see in the mystery of the great Bridal Chamber? First is the 'Father'. He is the father of everything. Remember that for later. Second is the concept of union. To become united means to become one. In the oneness composed of opposites, we again see the Yin and Yang of all that exists. Remember that too. Third is the virgin. We ask, what is the nature of virginity? It is the nature of non-exposure, and as of yet un-used, a

clean blank nature ready to receive a communication from a partner in union. Yes, and not only to receive, but to act upon that information to bring forth.

So then, the 'Father of everything' is a spiritual creator of both spiritual and corporeal reality. The virgin, in order to be a partner, that is: an opposite able to engage in a union, is described as having come down. In other words, the virgin could not have been a spiritual equal to the father, rather the virgin had to be corporeal – thus, she was created.

She had to exist at a layered distance from the wick, as it were. The virgin, an opposite to God, united with God and became one. Now, we know that such unions do not remain as one, but will separate, and may rejoin at another time.

Fourth is the purpose. Philip stated that a 'fire shone' for the father at that time. Imagine, if you will, that you are a being of light. Everything about you is light. Light magnifies your being and is your continuance. How do you make more light? Layering outward from the insubstantial to the material, you produce a wick. You will use the wick, but what will the wick use? You continue to layer until, at last, you ignite the wick, and the wick gives back light.

Believe me when I say that every person who grows their own food, enjoys it more.

They are not only satisfied with the end product, but the success of their labors. There is satisfaction suggested in the Bridal Chamber, and in the Sabbath, God's moment of ease.

Notice God's personal satisfaction as recorded in our creation: “And God saw the light, that it was good”. Personal gratification.

Light magnifies light, but not without cost. A candle unlit is a virgin, but a used candle goes out, its fuel burned away. The fire, itself, is intent to consume the whole candle.

The flame, while it makes light, is at the same time, a more material reflection of the light.

He appeared in the great bridal chamber. Therefore his body came into being on that very day.

Creation of the material by the spiritual, and union with, thus consummation of, corporeal reality by spiritual reality is a process geared toward the magnification and continuance of spiritual reality. Virginity is a fleeting precious commodity, it may be used but once. The layers of a candle may be copied from used and spent material reworked to new purpose. The candle is weak and easily used up, however, the weakness inherent in the body of the candle is the strength inherent in the body of the flame.

The passion ignites the flame, and light recreates light. Christ, as a flame, is the best reflection of the light of God's being. Remember Yin and Yang, the dual nature of all creation. The bridegroom came forth as a result of the union between the Bridegroom and Bride. He will go forth and receive his own bride, a virgin, unused and fit for consummation.

It left the bridal chamber as one who came into being from the bridegroom and the bride.

Here is the pitch, then. We see Jesus recreating Jesus. We see the layers building up. The process is not brutal, rather it proceeds as the gentle breathing in and out of one at rest.

One has taken a moment of ease, has found union with the perfect counterpart, has produced and come away from the union built up and satisfied. Perhaps in one epoch or culture he is known by one name, and by other names in differing times and cultures.

That may still be arguable, but I imagine that by constant layering and recreation, all that may be categorized as unreliable has, through passage, become more trustworthy.

So Jesus established everything in it through these.

As a cyclic principle, a vibrant self-sustaining light, has found a more hospitable niche in our material reality and social practices. Therein may lie advice geared toward the truer nature of the Sabbath rest. Therein may lie advice for those of us who seek to communicate our new-found spiritual reality into the virgin soul of the casual passerby.

Witnessing should be more like the gentle nudgings one would imagine to occur in a bridal chamber, and less like the rape the world perceives it to be.

It is fitting for each of the disciples to enter into his rest.

Philip has still more to say about the Bridal Chamber. Here, he references three 'buildings', or sites, or stations, within the temple, that were dedicated to sacrifice. He names them as: 'the Holy', 'the Holy of the Holy', and 'the Holy of the Holies'. A brief search afforded only information on the latter.

My initial assessment of this section sees Philip attempting to connect the old and new testaments. He seeks to associate certain aspects of the practice of physical sacrifice with certain aspects of spiritual ascension via the sacraments of faith.

These associations include: the Holy as baptism, the Holy of the Holy as redemption, and the Holy of the Holies as the Bridal Chamber.

There were three buildings specifically for sacrifice in Jerusalem. The one facing the west was called "The Holy". Another, facing south, was called "The Holy of the Holy".

The third, facing east, was called "The Holy of the Holies", the place where only the high priest enters. Baptism is "the Holy" building. Redemption is the "Holy of the Holy".

"The Holy of the Holies" is the bridal chamber.

We can see that Philip is still trying to work out the more mechanical aspects of things both spiritual and invisible. He wonders, as should we, how certain matters play out. As best as he can work out, the physical, sacramental baptism and the spiritual Bridal Chamber are a duality that is connected at the middle by redemption.

Redemption is a component of baptism that takes place in the Bridal Chamber.

Baptism includes the resurrection and the redemption; the redemption (takes place) in the bridal chamber.

The problem with this portion of Philip's meditation is that some of the text is missing, leaving us to guess about his closing arguments and summations. Yet, there are things we already know. We may use those things as a starting point here. There are hints within the text which we may utilize to fill in the blanks. It is all too clear, in Philip's concluding statement, that his summation includes the concept of the 'veil'. Note here the connection between the veil that covered the Holy of Holies and the veil that covered the face of a pure virgin.

The veil is another middle ground, and may be associated with 'redemption' as a middle ground between baptism and the Bridal Chamber. As middle grounds go, the Holy faced west and the Holy of Holies faced east, leaving the Holy of the Holy, facing south, in juxtaposition. Of these primary directions, God himself may be inferred as true north.

What Philip seems to be working toward is the connection, or middle ground, between God and man, the middle ground between the spiritual and the corporeal. Of interest is how, exactly, one ascends up beyond the veil. A pertinent aside, here, is the configuration of the four directions, and I use the word pertinent in regard of their abstract connotations. The four directions consist of two dualities that cross each other, and thus may form an association to the cross of Christ.

How Philip works toward his veil-associated summation may best be understood through both the things we already possess and the hints within his text, and we may use those, as pieces of a puzzle, to fill in the blank areas of missing text.

But the bridal chamber is in that which is superior to [all created things, both visible and invisible. Spirits] you will not find [in the Bridal Chamber] are those who pray [for Jerusalem; those who pray for Jerusalem are neither the bride nor the groom. It is fitting that the Holy remains without. But, the one above] Jerusalem who [will see the face of] Jerusalem, [he is the greater of] those called the "Holy of the Holies" [When Christ was lifted above the temple of Jerusalem] the veil was rent, [as none may enter the] bridal chamber except the image [of the unseen spirit] above.

Because of this, its veil was rent from top to bottom. For it was fitting for some from below to go upward.

Philip had previously stated that: the veil was not rent at the top only, since it would have been open only to those above; nor was it rent at the bottom only, since it would have been revealed only to those below.

But it was rent from the top to (a direction) bottom.

Final Considerations

Bread, the man-food, makes a spiritual leap in Philip's next discourse. A demarcation is placed between the civilized man and the hunter-gatherer, Adam in paradise being classed with the latter. Although Adam's diet may have been superior in abundance, and in variety of healthy items, it lacked the staple that men of Philip's day and age had set as the measure of food success.

Most cultures, even today, have a staple that defines them. Rice for some, beans for others. Where there is no culture-specific staple, there is bread as a default. Now, while Philip touches on early man's diet, it is merely a leading reference. It is meant to point our minds in one particular direction, thus, we should not view his opening remark literally.

Before Christ came, there was no bread in the world, Of course there was bread in the world before Christ came, but it was the bread of the world. Philip is comparing upgrades. On the one hand, an upgrade from hunter-gatherer is the civilized cooperation of men who maintain a more certain source of sustenance. just as Paradise, the place where Adam was, had many trees to nourish the animals but no wheat to sustain man.

We see in the fall of man the change from finding available nutrition to a more sweat of the brow approach. Mankind took up agriculture. Adam's expelled family could manage not only fruits and vegetables, not only livestock, but long lasting store-able grain for a reliable staple. In a hostile and uncertain environment, the availability of bread is as much a matter of life and death as is the availability of water. Both are critical.

Likewise, the spiritual man sustained himself through spiritual foods that were, at best, unreliable. The comparison, here, to civilized man is directed toward the Christlike man, the perfect man. The advent of Christ is here viewed as the advent of a more certain and maintainable spiritual staple. The concept of bread makes a spiritual leap.

Man used to feed like the animals, but when Christ came, the perfect man, he brought bread from heaven in order that man might be nourished with the food of man.

As we ingest this discourse, we see the connection between the critical need of a worldly staple and the critical need for a spiritual staple. Mankind made the leap to civilized cooperation, providing for itself those things that took on the importance of life itself. In a similar fashion, spiritual man also made a leap assuring itself of the one thing that meant spiritual life: the communications of God. In the natural world, there is a pattern of ascendancy from hunter-gatherer to civilization.

One man plants a seed, and obtains a harvest. Life is assured, and from the abundance that one man is able to communicate to a second man everything he will need for similar

success. This communication continues until men are able to work together for the life of all.

Now, in their new life of cooperation, rules are drawn and rulers administrate. They may direct the farmers to their fields, and feel as if they have ordered things in such a manner as to cause the success of their cooperative efforts, but the truth of the matter is that their communications are secondary. The primary communications of seeds, planting methods, storage, and bread making still rests with those who do the work.

The maintenance of, and the communication of, life does not rest in the most august but rather in the most basic and humble levels. Adam was a gardener and a farmer, Christ was a carpenter or stone mason. The high levels we see in our studies: kings, and Pharisees, and sons of Pharaohs were never the ones involved in the communications of life maintenance. To be involved in planting and harvesting, or making the bread which sustained life would have entailed a lowering of status from on high to humble.

The rulers thought that it was by their own power and will that they were doing what they did, Those high ones who did communicate were first brought low. Moses, a son of Pharaoh, was brought low. David, a king, was brought low. Paul, a Doctor of the law, was brought low. Even Adam, the first man, was brought low. What a dysfunctional family Adam had! What murderers Moses and Paul were! What an adulterer was David! To be a communicator of the seed of life, one must be lowly enough to get his hands dirty. In that same vein, to be a communicator of the spiritual life, one must be humble. but the Holy Spirit in secret was accomplishing everything through them as it wished.

We see, in actuality, that what counts the most is never the communicator, but always the communication. The farmers are interchangeable; the transmission of seeds, and techniques for farming, and recipes for bread pretty much assure themselves. In the spiritual arena, the worldly rulers count for naught. All their rationalizations count for naught. Moreover, we who do the work of spreading the word count for naught; we have only done what is our duty to do. What counts for everything is the communication itself. It is the godly nature communicating the godly nature.

The Holy Spirit has his way, despite what notables of the world think. Communications of the Holy Spirit continue to this day, and they are the assurance of life. Therein lies the importance, even as Christ himself perceived it, for he claimed that offenses against God and Christ are forgivable, whereas offenses against the Holy Spirit are not.

Now, of those who willfully act as a conduit of the spirit, there are many. Those who are interested enough to follow through, those who roll up their sleeves for the long haul, are not so many. However, all of us are exposed to the truth, and the mindset of truth will be communicated only by those who maintain the mindset of truth. Some of us get the work up under our fingernails, hoping to see the harvest. We would do well to heed this advice: 'quench not the spirit'.

Truth, which existed since the beginning, is sown everywhere. And many see it being sown, but few are they who see it being reaped.

A final thought about bread: when Christ said 'man shall not live by bread alone', was he referencing worldly bread as opposed to spiritual bread (every word), or was he referencing spiritual bread as opposed to the extra effort of ingesting 'every word'? If it is the latter case, what does that say about the ordinary contemporary religious observer who has gone only so far, and now, as it were, rests upon his laurels? Do these individuals not see that there is more to receive and communicate? And, in any faith where God's words are passed along, is the 'every word of God' clause the same as putting one's hand to the plow, only to turn away from the actual work?

A short discourse may have much to say. The seeker of truth will not be hindered by the man through whom the communication asserts itself. The seeker of truth will not take the course of the worldly intellectual, insofar that all he receives are the former scholars and their sterile ruminations. Indeed, many have gone before us, but none of them have a nose for the truth. We seekers have big wet noses, all the better to sniff out truths which grow unseen like truffles in the roots of trees.

I began my spiritual studies years ago in the canon, without regard to external references. The point was to pray, and to take in only what the Holy Spirit brought forth.

Since then, I have broadened the boundaries of truth to include certain other works. I began with Thomas, and have progressed as far as Philip. I do not consider this a divergence, as I seek the same through all. I seek the truth given by the Holy Spirit.

I am able to compare my present findings with those of the canon. After all, the Holy Spirit is just as capable of opening the understanding of a Thomas or a Philip as he is of opening the understanding of a Matthew or John. And too, as a seeker, I do not seek to only find what matches scripture. I fully expect to find things that seem completely off the wall. I welcome the new; I lean in close, and sniff.

And so we see in this present discourse that there is something completely off the wall.

Try as we may to match this next with anything from scripture, we are unable to see Christ saying what Philip purports. The scholars would think this is a very good place to stop, and make their usual rejections. They will count each and every tree, give them names, and of course, make much of what other scholars do or do not say. But, we seekers move past them and enter the forest.

Philip opens his discourse thus: He said on that day in the thanksgiving, "You who have joined the perfect light with the Holy Spirit, unite the angels with us also, as being the images."

Now, we initially see a connection to the last supper, namely: 'He (Jesus) said on that (final Passover) day (before the arrest) in the thanksgiving' (as recorded in the book of Luke). That first part, admittedly, sounds kind of scriptural, that which follows has a decidedly Gnostic feel. But, we are seekers; we are not too worried about that. First, I would like to put Philip's quote up beside what I consider a close canonical match, then I would like to examine the Philip quote for its own merit.

Luke 22:28-30 says this, â&#x20AC;&#x153;Ye are they which have continued with me in my temptations. And I appoint unto you a kingdom, as my Father hath appointed unto me; that ye may eat and drink at my table in my kingdom, and sit on thrones judging the twelve tribes of Israel.â&#x20AC;?

Clearly, this speaks of a connection to God arrived at by the ascension of man from a purely physical status to an angelic status, and acting in positions of guidance over tribes much as the angels in the book of Revelation guide their churches.

So, let us assimilate the merit of Philip's unique quote. Jesus spoke to his disciples at the Passover. He iterated that they had made the connection to God. They had ascended to such a point that the mind of God within each of them, the perfect light, was quite like the mind of God that was in God, the Holy Spirit. Not only that, but Jesus speaking collectively and including himself goes on to state that in doing so, they have also become one with the angels. The rationale follows. They were one with the angels of God because angels are the outward manifestation of the mind of God. Jesus concludes his statement thus: Do not despise the lamb, for without it, it is not possible to see the king.

Yes, man evolves spiritually. He proceeds toward the very status of God, with each newly obtained status higher than the last. But we are warned that man must not despise, or in any manner dismiss, the process by which we ascend. We may not complain about those agents which make change possible. Christ, the very son of God, accepted his own betrayal and crucifixion. He never once complained that it was unfair. He did not whine that if God was just and merciful, suffering would not exist.

It is in the nature of things that the fields upon which the shepherd feeds his flocks are also the same fields circled by wolves. Destruction makes way for growth; death makes way for life. And the shepherd, trusted by the sheep, will take wool from the sheep to clothe himself. One ascends from the humble lamb to the mighty king. The very first sacrifice covered Adam and Eve. Christ, the lamb of God, was sacrificed to the same end, that we may be covered, that we may come into the presence of our spiritual superiors. We find that sacrifice actually occurs at the level above us. It was God's sacrifice and loss of Jesus that clothed Christ in white. Just as Christ was then permitted in the presence of God, it was Christ's sacrifice that clothes us and readies us to be with him.

Consider the canonical parable of the wedding. Matthew 22: 8-14 speaks of a king who furnished a wedding with guests from the poor and disenfranchised found along the highways and byways of his kingdom. Most had good sense, and went to the extra effort to dress for the occasion. One man, however, was found without a wedding garment.

Now, it could have been that the king provided the clothing, but this one man declined.

He should have figured he was no longer in his own element, and no matter how he complained that it was unfair, the king's rules applied; the man was cast out.

No one will be able to go in to the king if he is naked.

Why do I go on and on about Philip's thoughts and opinions? Quite frankly, I feel a kinship with the man. He was a man much like myself, a man keenly interested in truth.

Both of us struggle with the same issues, yearning sincerely to know what, exactly, is going on.

We seek to fathom the higher nature that has been communicated to us. Objectively, we hold it in the palm of our united hand, hands joined across time and space. I say 'objectively' for if it was not so, we could not separate it from us to such an extent, but truly, we see it from a distance some cannot manage. We turn it in our palm, examining each facet in the light.

Both Philip and I have struggled with the concept of duality. It is displayed throughout all creation, and cannot be missed. But why; what is it? What is it a part of? What is the hidden nature of it, and its function? I have found that the simple ruminations of Philip on this matter match my own from my first study: “The Great Reflection”.

"The Father" and "the Son" are single names; What is said speaks; what is not said speaks. You may state the left as opposed to the right, but in truth, there would be no left without the right, no right without the left. We can see this type of coupling throughout all creation. Up is joined to down, and out is a part of in. Men and women are not truly separate; they are one. Right and wrong, good and evil – these things do not compete, they are joined in the same system, they cooperate.

You may, therefore, call the father by one name, and the son by another, but are they not truly one? Did not Christ, himself, say, “I and my father are one”? (John. 10:30) The singular names given by man are arbitrary constructs. And yet, constructs which tend to separate work in tandem with constructs which tend to unify. We will reach the unification by and by, if we but first deal with the arbitrary separation. We will arrive at the day, if we but get past the night.

So it is with the seemingly separate names of father and son. I have shown that Christ, always the topic of study, whether for a Philip or a Daniel, has said he was one with the father. What did he mean? Let us explore what else is said in this regard. 1 John 5:6-8 says the following: “This is he that came by water and blood, [even] Jesus Christ; not by water only, but by water and blood. And it is the Spirit that bears witness, because the Spirit is truth. For there are three that bear record in heaven, the Father, the Word, and the Holy Ghost: and these three are one. And there are three that bear witness in earth, the Spirit, and the water, and the blood: and these three agree in one.”

What could John possibly be speaking of? He speaks through symbols, clearly, and those symbols are obvious references to unseen spiritual realities. We have no spiritual words with which to reference spiritual realities. Our words are neither unseen nor unheard. John's three earthly witnesses correspond to the three heavenly witnesses.

Father = water Word = Jesus = blood Holy Ghost = Spirit = truth.

The three heavenly witnesses achieve unification; the three worldly witnesses find agreement in the heavenly unification. So then, what is the agreement? Philip puts it this way: "the Holy Spirit" is a double name.

The nature of reality is duality, but duality is always joined in the middle. It is the study that joins me to Philip; we hold the same truth in the palm of our collective hand. It is the Holy Ghost that connects the father and son. It is the Spirit that connects the water and the blood. It is the son of God, filled with the spirit, who connects the worldly to the spiritual. When Christ said, 'I am the truth', he spoke of the Spirit within the worldly man, for he also made a point to tell us in John 6:63: “It is the spirit that makes alive; the flesh profits nothing: the words that I speak unto you, they are spirit, and they are life.”

We see duality everywhere. It is seen in all cultures. Why is the Holy Spirit a 'double name'? It is a name that joins together those things our words place in opposition. Do you view God as separate from man? Many do. Even those who view God and man as one, still use a language that sets them in opposition. Sure, there is an up and a down, but shouldn't we rather see the connection? Every island is joined to the ocean floor. The water that seems to sever the island from its source is an illusion. The sky above, with its many differences from the ocean below, cannot escape the system that makes it one with earth and sea.

For they are everywhere: they are above, they are below; they are in the concealed, they are in the revealed.

In my book, “The Great Reflection”, I spent considerable time and thought on the topic of duality, and also on connections. Philip has wrestled with the same topics. Both of us have worked past the arbitrary isolation of concepts and truths, and have emerged into the daylight of connections and unification. While I am bound by the same symbolic language as Philip, and while I might say north and Philip south, there is a place in the middle. It is a place where our two palms unite, and the study makes us one.

The Holy Spirit is in the revealed: it is below. It is in the concealed: it is above.

Every north has its south, but I promote the connection that makes them one. Every revealed has its concealed, and I promote the connection that unites them. If we but work past the revealed, by way of the connection, what a prize will be the Holy Spirit of Truth!

It takes one to know one – or so the expression goes. That is the opinion that Philip sets forth, and I must admit, I sense the resonance. I have seen this also in my studies of the canon. So then, if you are such a one, you at least have a clue; you know what to look for in others. The expression, it takes a thief to catch a thief, is therefore a reliable adage in as much as a thief knows best about thievery. Philip begins: It is not possible for anyone to see anything of the things that actually exist unless he becomes like them.

But, Philip is not talking about common things. As usual, he speaks of the hidden things of spiritual reality. How might you see an angel? Be like an angel. How would you see a being of invisible spirit? Be like a spiritual being, and exercise spiritual sight. Philip makes a point to distinguish such a practice from the usual modi operandi of common men. He explains: This is not the way with man in the world: he sees the sun without being a sun; and he sees the heaven and the earth and all other things, but he is not these things.

It really begs the question. Is man seeing the existence, or the image of the existence?

When Jesus walked the earth, men saw him, but what exactly did they see? Jesus asked his disciples who they thought he was. Peter answered, “the Christ, the son of the living God”.

Admittedly, Peter was seeing things differently. Rather than sight of the worldly formula, Peter was seeing by the spiritual formula which Philip here declares. Christ, himself, made a distinction between the two formulas, for he told Peter that flesh and blood had not revealed that truth to him. The spirit opened Peter's spiritual eyes and

allowed him to perceive spiritual reality.

This is quite in keeping with the truth.

This is where the formula changes from worldly to spiritual. As any other man, Peter saw the world as men see the world. The world saw Jesus as just another man. That is to say: man sees the outward manifestation of man, but not the reality of man. However, to be shown the hidden reality, as was Peter, also incorporates the same reality within the observer, thus making the observer more adept at detecting reality. It is a thing that is accomplished in reverse order. One is shown an open eye by opening the eye.

How should we explain poverty to the rich aristocrat? We take away his place; we take away his wealth. We place him on the very bottom with all the poor, and let him wallow and weep and moan until he accepts his new reality. He will see the poor because he is one of them.

But you saw something of that place, and you became those things.

In Peter's case, he was shown the Christ by the simple initiation of Christ-likeness within his own spirit. It takes more than a man to see more than a man.

Where is the point where the impossible occurs, and how is it introduced? Solid eyes cannot see invisibility in any way, or by any means. How, then, can a man see the spirit?

The self will always see self. Spirit must be introduced into one's personal sense of self.

The self may then note the change. Each time he looks at it, he incorporates the newness to a higher degree. The repetition becomes an exercise. Each time he sees invisibility, the self becomes more transparent. Before long, he is able to see it in others as well.

You saw the Spirit, you became spirit. You saw Christ, you became Christ. You saw the Father, you shall become Father.

All those things which are normally set beyond, or above, that is to say: outside our personal realm, may be understood and incorporated only through personal experience.

If we look at Christ outside the personal experience, we see an image only â&#x20AC;&#x201C; just another man. Nor, can we see the cross as anything other than a piece of wood until we take it upon ourselves to carry.

Every actual change, every advance along the path of ascendancy must begin within.

You cannot receive baptism first, and then inner change. You must first be renewed within, and then baptism is both possible and real.

So in this place you see everything and do not see yourself, but in that place you do see yourself - and what you see you shall become.

The 'experts' will contend that those who wrote the Gnostic books were too far removed from the actual events, that they simply drew upon older texts to make their own points, which are seen as unrelated. I contend that all communications from God are by way of the Holy Ghost â&#x20AC;&#x201C; that is: Old Testament, New Testament, Gnostic, whatever.

What we see in Philip is a man like ourselves, a man interested in the Bible, every word of God, Christ, and man's relationship to all things above and beyond the daily human condition. Philip is a detective attempting to sleuth out the facts; he is exactly the same as you and I. Philip, in his time, worked a grand puzzle, but he died before all the pieces were in place. Others came before Philip; we follow. To each of us, it seems, there is a limited allotment of pieces. We do our best and leave the rest to kindred spirits who will take the places we now hold. Anything we may add, even if only a clarification of earlier work, is a communication of the God-mind via the Holy Spirit.

In the sense of an individual, the communications of the Holy Spirit connect us to all other individuals similarly edified. That connection joins us through time and space. We are never too far removed from the actual events. All communications are valid; all individuals thus communicated to are valid.

Philip sees that great expanse of time; he sees that time as serial time. God designed time as he did the seasons: to return upon themselves. He designed it as a medium for beginnings and conclusions, as a medium for plantings and harvests. The corn will fall into the ground and die, thus bearing fruit to the harvest. In turn, the harvest provides the seed for next season's planting. The individual, by type and in personal detail, is remade and reused.

Who is to say that I am not Philip returned to finish my work? While many Christians relegate reincarnation to other faiths, canonical texts admit to reincarnation as a matter of prophetic fact. For example: Daniel is slated to return in the final days.

Daniel 12:13 - â&#x20AC;&#x153;But go thou thy way till the end be: for thou shalt rest, and stand in thy lot at the end of the days.â&#x20AC;?

John the baptist was the reincarnation of Elijah the prophet. Read what Christ said about it: Matthew 11:13-14 - "For all the prophets and the Law prophesied until John. And if you care to accept it, he himself is Elijah, who was to come."

Would you care to accept it? By all means, do not just take me at my own word, but read

it with your own eyes. There is a physical description of Elijah in the Old Testament; there is a physical description of John the Baptist in the New Testament. Compare them.

Put them side by side, and read them word for word.

Philip attributes a saying to the Lord, (we are all so beyond what 'experts' try to tell us) and that saying speaks of serial time. Christ describes himself using the same language in: Revelation 1:8 - “I am Alpha and Omega, the beginning and the ending, saith the Lord, which is, and which was, and which is to come, the Almighty.”

Philip's quote speaks not of the physical body alone. A corn is the same from one planting to the next; what was before, is again the same. Even within the entire scope of individual permutation, the corn that died is the same as the one next planted. Nor does the quote speak only of the inhabiting spirit. John was the reincarnation of Elijah, but he did not believe that he was.

However, what if John knew himself as Elijah? How happy would he be to have made the leap through time with the same mind! The harvest corn is identical with the planted corn because it is made after the pattern of the corn's true nature. John was identical to Elijah because he was fashioned after the pattern of the Elijah persona. Yet, there was lacking a higher awareness of the connection.

As you read what Philip asserts, keep in mind the awareness of your true identity, keep in mind that ascension brings us to that place where we are as blessed as Christ, for the man Jesus was aware of his whole identity. Look closely at the word 'is', for that word is central. That word is primary. 'Is' controls what 'was' and what is 'to come'. 'Is' is the pattern. So, who are you, really? Who have you been, and who will you be again?

The Lord said, “Blessed is he who is before he came into being. For he who is, has been and shall be.”