Chapter 2
Donna was waiting for him in the parking lot as Phil topped the bluff. He wasn’t sure what he should say to her. ‘Beware of Manuel’s shenanigans,’ might be too cryptic. Although, it was apparent Manuel knew about Donna’s abilities and potentials. Phil really didn’t want his daughter tangled up with the mess his spiritual life had become. On the other hand, did he have a choice?
“Hi,” he greeted her as he climbed into the Mercedes.
She turned down the radio and eyed him expectantly, “Well?”
“Well, what?”
“Well, you had a purpose for coming here. Did you achieve your purpose?”
She was too clever, Phil determined and struggled to come up with any kind of answer other than the truth.
“It’s complicated.”
“Lame, Dad.”
“Honestly, you don’t want to know.”
“Honestly, I do.”
Phil sighed and put on his seat belt, “I’m not going to involve you in my troubles.”
“I’m already involved.”
Just what Manuel said. This was not going to be easy.
He came at it from a different angle, “What do you know about the spiritual domain?”
“There are four broad levels all traditions have found,” she recited. “Beyond the limits of reason, there are nature mysticism, deity mysticism, formless mysticism, and the Great Mystery.”
“How do you know this?”
“Comparative religion,” she smiled. “I got a 4.0 in it.”
“They teach this stuff?”
“Yeah, but they don’t teach us how to do anything in those realms.”
“Why not?”
“Like you said,” she explained. “It’s too dangerous.”
Nodding in agreement he asked, “Did they tell you what happens in each category?”
“Sure,” she affirmed. “Shamanism, archetypal psychology, nirvana, and Enlightenment. They all go by different, unpronounceable names in Buddhism or Kabbala or Sufism or whatever. But those are the four broad distinctions and disciplines.”
Donna flashed a proud-of-herself smile at him and started driving home while Phil sat not knowing what to say.
At length, he managed, “I didn’t know they taught this. Did they discuss fundamentalism?”
“It’s equivalent to concrete operational thinking,” she answered as she pulled onto the highway. “You know, the black-and-white thinking appropriate to a grade-school kid.”
“Amazing. I thought all they taught was secular humanism.”
“They try,” she agreed, “but we aren’t buying it anymore. Endless processing doesn’t get the job done.”
“Everybody feels heard.”
“Some people ought to be ignored,” she pointed out. “But you’re evading my question, Dad. What are you up to?”
“To tell the truth, I’m not sure. My meditation practice has brought me to a really weird place. I seem to be dealing with existential questions in a format I can’t fully grasp.” He paused to ask, “You know what existential means, don’t you?”
Donna glanced at him with both eyebrows raised.
“Right,” he smiled. “Anyway, don’t be surprised if weird stuff starts happening.”
“Like what?”
“Like -- I don’t know.”
“Dad?”
“Do you have any information on angels?”
“Probably archetypal entities,” she said.
“No. They have individuality. Archetypes don’t. I think angels may be real in a sense.”
“And you’re interacting with them. How exciting.”
Phil sighed again, “Right. But there are good angels and bad ones.”
“Oh, yeah,” she frowned. “You aren’t in any trouble, are you?”
“Not yet,” he said. Even though what he wanted to say was, ‘Not recently.’
They drove in silence until the final turn onto their block. Then Donna said, “Is the Grail story important to what you’re doing?”
“It will be.”
The next day, Phil retrieved his notes on the J version of the first five books of the Hebrew Bible and reread them. The J version was written by one of four known authors of the Hebrew Bible. There were also E, P, and D. Then there was R (for Redactor), who weaved the stories together. When each version was teased out of the composite script, the bias of the individual author became apparent.
The J version, as Phil discovered, was a wonderfully complex children’s tale. Manuel said a granddaughter of King David wrote it. Her name was Gevurah, which meant Great Lady. Her complete literary effort was long gone, edited by the priests, but Manuel said the story began with creation as a battle with sea monsters. After the battle, God made man from clay. The story ended with Moses dying in sight of the Holy Land and God buried him.
Gevurah’s story held the poetic force to launch three of the world’s great religions, and Phil wished he could read it in the original Hebrew, and in its entirety. The text, apparently, was filled with nuances and word-plays not translatable into English. What did come through was Gevurah’s irony. It came through as a bumbling God, flawed patriarchs, and the trickery and scheming of notable women. Gevurah seemed to be mocking the patriarchy itself as she told the tales of the Patriarchs.
Sturdy Abram, trusting directions from God, began it. Nearly sacrificed Isaac, traumatized for life, never really accomplished anything. He was duped by Rebecca, his wife, into giving his blessing to Jacob, the younger son who ran from his brother Esau’s wrath. Jacob, in turn, was duped into a marriage with Leah, Rachel’s older sister, but stayed on as a laborer to gain Rachel’s hand. From Jacob’s two wives and two concubines, the twelve Israelite tribes were traced. Of these, only the Joseph and Judah tribes eventually remained.
Joseph’s story brought the family to Egypt. In Phil’s rereading of the story, he recognized Gevurah’s skill. Jacob’s beloved Rachel bore him two sons, Joseph and Benjamin. She died giving birth to Benjamin. Subsequently, Joseph required Benjamin as a hostage as he toyed with his other brothers. This brought the aged Jacob to Egypt, out of the famine-cursed northern lands. Once in Egypt, the entire family prospered.
Joseph’s line was responsible for two tribes that flourished during the intervening centuries. Judah’s line was the other. However, their stay in Egypt turned sour. It was left to Moses to plan the Israelite’s escape from bondage.
Phil wasn’t sure why Manuel insisted on a review of the Patriarchs’ story. Phil couldn’t see much relevance between the tribal social system and the current patriarchal one. Powerful beliefs and strong women hedged in by a tribal system. The current system boasted a glass ceiling and women as sex objects. There didn’t seem much overlap.
The story of Moses, though, drew Phil into a deeper study. He researched it with some intensity, especially after he found out Freud assumed Moses was a devotee of Aton. According to Freud, Ikhnaton, a Pharaoh during the Hebrew Egyptian period, overthrew the pantheon of gods and goddesses in favor of the monotheistic god Aton. Moses adopted this monotheism and brought it to the Hebrews. When Ikhnaton was himself overthrown, Moses led the people out of Egypt to find the religious freedom to pursue monotheism. However, at Mount Sinai, those who wanted more than one god killed Moses. The golden calf, Freud reckoned, was a symbol of Baal -- the older Babylonian head god. In the end, the Hebrews settled for monotheism, but settled for the local thunder god of Mount Sinai, Yahweh, instead of Aton.
Freud advanced an intriguing theory, Phil thought, and he was interested to find out Manuel’s view.
It took a couple of days, but he finally made it back to the beach to meditate. As he sat on the ledge, Phil noticed the restless sea and recalled the consult from an oceanography teacher in college. “For those who know the ocean,” he said during a long ago lecture, “living inland is your best bet.”
Phil smiled and hoped a freak storm or tsunami didn’t wash him out to sea while he explored other depths tonight. He breathed deeply a few times; then he entered into meditation.
Manuel’s patio was bedecked in maroon and purple flowers. The angel was tending them as Phil arrived.
“They’re all symbols,” Manuel spoke in a reverent voice as he caressed his flowers. “Everything in Creation is a symbol, though. Still, I like these blossoms.”
Manuel would come up with such statements, Phil knew, most of which went right over Phil’s head. Usually, he ignored these asides, but today he answered, “Symbols for what?”
“Evolution,” Manuel answered. “What did you get from reading Gevurah’s novel?”
“Did the Israelites kill Moses?”
Manuel chuckled, “Freud denounced all things spiritual. It wasn’t his only problem. Or maybe his other problems made spirituality a little too frightening.”
“You didn’t answer my question.”
“Because the context of your question is faulty,” Manuel retorted.
“It’s a simple question.”
Manuel moved to the marble bench and sat. After a long pause, he said, “Aton, Yahweh, or any other name of God is beside the point. There is an Organizing Principle, a First Cause, a God-above and a Goddess-within. Behind that is En Sof, the Great Mystery. How people get to this realization is beside the point. All rivers lead to the ocean.”
“Okay,” Phil said and sat next to the angel, “but did they kill the messenger?”
“No. Moses had too much status as a soldier. And his brother protected him as well.”
“Aaron. But he was the one who built the golden calf.”
“That’s the story,” Manuel equivocated. “He was more in tune with the people -- more the politician. Moses eventually convinced him of the One God idea, and Aaron sold it to the people. He sold it as a henotheistic step up the ladder.”
Phil thought on this for a moment before saying, “But Abram and Isaac and all the Patriarchs believed in a henotheistic God already.”
“So the story goes,” Manuel reiterated, “but it wasn’t true for the people -- for the Israelites. They didn’t adopt monotheism until Moses, and even then, it took a while.”
Phil grimaced at the answer. His theory about the relative importance of the patriarchy was unraveling.
Manuel read Phil’s confusion and said, “The importance of patriarchy isn’t in the history of the Patriarchs. It’s in the idea of ‘blessing.’ What does ‘blessing’ mean?”
“You tell me.”
Manuel sighed deep and heavy. His aura went through a series of color shifts Phil knew represented emotional changes. At length, when his aura settled into a vibrant violet, Manuel said, “God’s blessing, Phil. It’s not rocket science. These folks were still locked into henotheism. God was to deliver the goods: rain for the crops; success in battle; lots of children; you know, basic stuff.”
Phil smiled a weak smile, “I thought it was more. I thought it was another of your trick questions.”
“Right,” Manuel snorted. “Since when have I ever tricked you?”
Phil laughed, “Since when haven’t you?”
Manuel returned the laugh and conceded, “Okay, there is a trick piece to this. Metatron told you the patriarchy equated mythos with logos. God’s blessing can be viewed through two lenses. Mythic blessing would be one thing; rational blessing, another.”
“I suppose I need to know the difference,” Phil rejoined, still smiling, but worry was contaminating his humor.
“The difference between them is rather obvious. How they got confused is a bit more challenging.”
“Mythic blessing would have to do with God’s spiritual gifts to us,” Phil tried. “The more mundane blessings would be the ones any henotheistic god could bestow.”
“Very good,” Manuel said in a matter-of-fact tone. “Now, how did they get confused?”
“Don’t know.”
“Azazel might be helpful in teasing the two apart.”
Phil’s worry multiplied. He wanted nothing to do with Azazel -- the desert demon had a grudge against Phil.
Manuel began chuckling as he put his hand on Phil’s shoulder. They flew out of the patio towards the Compound of Evil. Apparently, Manuel was going to seek Azazel’s help.
When Phil regained his ability to speak from the abrupt shock of Manuel’s intent, he voiced his concern, “Azazel is nothing but trouble for us, Manuel. Why would he help me? All he’s ever been interested in is eating our souls.”
They were now flying across a barren plain. In the distance was the Wall -- a chilling, black, living structure surrounding the Compound of Evil.
Manuel laughed at Phil’s concern, “You’re still thinking in absolute terms -- good and evil; right and wrong. You’ve done enough research on angels to know better.”
It was true, Phil realized, angel literature proposed a confusing analysis. The Bible never segregated angels into good ones and bad ones; although, Christians did. However, Christian sources contradicted one another with alarming regularity. Remiel, in Enoch I, was a rebel angel in Chapter 6, but transformed into one of the holy seven in Chapter 18. In the Book of Revelations, Chapter 9, Abaddon/Apollyon was stuck in the bottomless pit, but in Chapter 20 became a good and holy angel who binds Satan. Ariel, Kakabel, Usiel, and other notable angels enjoyed the same ambivalent stature of both good and bad angels. Even so, Phil wanted nothing more to do with Azazel.
But he was curious, “How could Azazel help?”
As they flew through the gates of the Compound of Evil, Manuel answered, “He is a seducer of mankind. He knows why the patriarchy has become the dysfunctional muddle it is.”
“Don’t you know?”
“Nope,” Manuel replied. “I mean, I sort of know. Man confused logos and mythos. I’ve been concerned in undoing the confusion. Azazel knows why the confusion happened -- the subtle causes, so to speak.”
Though a less than satisfying answer, Phil let it slide. He knew angels were not a well-organized bunch. Their Councils were reactive rather than proactive, because as Manuel pointed out none of them knew the final purpose of Creation. In essence, then, they were informed by no real mission statement -- no ‘goal’ they were working towards. This chaotic situation violated Phil’s tidy sense of corporate structure, but there was nothing he could do to fix it. The celestial realm, in his view, was a nightmare of confusion.
At length, they reached an oasis on a desert plain. A single tent stood next to a palm-lined lake. Azazel emerged from the tent as the pair alighted.
Azazel was darkly handsome and possessed a lyrical androgyny. His voice, Phil knew from experience, was seductive, and Phil took a moment to steel himself against it. He did so by activating the Flesh, Force and Spirit energies he was acquainted with and filled himself with those energies.
“Manuel,” the dark angel cooed in greeting. “You’re brought the human. I’ve been hoping to meet with him again. We have unfinished business.”
Phil swallowed hard and redirected the energies of Flesh, Force and Spirit into his chest in preparation to shield himself.
Manuel spoke, “We have a request. Phil needs to know how logos and mythos became confused.”
“Does he now?” Azazel continued to smile. “What is he willing to pay for such knowledge?”
“What’s it worth,” Manuel countered.
“Depends,” Azazel shrugged. “If he uses the knowledge to make my life harder, the price goes up accordingly.”
“How about his daughter?” Manuel offered.
Phil rounded on Manuel in horror, “You can’t.”
“She’ll be fine,” Manuel reassured him.
Phil was having none of it, “Leave her out of this. Whatever price there is to pay, I’ll pay it.”
“Done,” Azazel said. “I’ll take his daughter.”
Stunned, Phil didn’t know what to do. Manuel, on the other hand, was ready to proceed.
“Tell us,” the angel prompted.
Azazel’s smile dissolved as he said, “Mythos has to do with meaning. Logos has to do with practicality. They are separate spheres -- apples and oranges. However, during ages of transition, the ruling myths break down and have to be reconstructed. It happened during the Axial Age first, and it happened again in the 17th and 18th Centuries as scientific rationalism took over.”
Phil wasn’t tracking this dry recitation. His mind remained numbed with shock. How could Manuel so cavalierly offer up his daughter?
Azazel was continuing, “Since mythos looks back to human roots, it provides a context for daily life. Logos looks forward to the horizon of human potential. Both, therefore, are necessary for evolution to progress.”
“Stop,” Phil managed to say. “I don’t want this information. You can’t have my daughter.”
“Too late,” Azazel smiled again. “You already have the salient pieces. But the details are fascinating. You might as well have them.”
Phil groaned a response.
Azazel went on, “Unlike logos, mythos is not reasonable -- just as poetry isn’t a reasonable endeavor. During the Axial Age, the early myths, which were mostly external, gave way to an internal unifying principle. Many gods became one god. Likewise, propitiating the many gods gave way to discovering the Divine-within. We weren’t able to derail this project, but we learned from our mistakes.”
Phil sat down hard on the rocky ground and wondered what he could do to prepare Donna for an encounter with the devil in charge of a host of demons.
Manuel kicked him, “Pay attention.”
Azazel pursed his sensuous lips and continued, “We gathered some success during the Crusades. When the fanatics got control and waged mythic war, they lost and we won. When the pragmatists were in control, men like Frederick II or Saladin, things stabilized. They won; we lost.”
Phil was having difficulty paying attention, but was realizing there was nothing he could do right now to save Donna. He forced himself to listen to this dearly-priced information.
“For the last 400 years,” Azazel was saying, “we’ve done a credible job of convincing humans to rethink their mythologies in terms of historical fact. In short, to confuse myth and reason. Our best success was John Nelson Darby. He lived in the 19th Century and advanced the idea of ‘dispensations.’ We rather liked the irony of the term.” Azazel paused to chuckle at this before going on, “He divided time into seven epochs, his dispensations. Each epoch ended when God destroyed mankind for its wickedness. Among these apocalyptic cycles were the Fall, the Flood, and Christ’s crucifixion. Darby figured he was living in the 6th epoch, and the closure to this one would be catastrophic. However, the 7th dispensation would be the millennial reign of Christ on Earth.”
As Phil absorbed these facts, he began to see the errors in Darby’s thinking -- the mistaking of apples for oranges. If mythos gave meaning, then Darby’s theory gave meaning only to death, to global suicide. This was what the Sixties Revolution tried to prevent. Phil’s generation sensed the insanity and rose up to challenge it. So far Boomers were successful, but Azazel was indicating the game wasn’t over yet. And the dark minions for centuries were honing their methods.
“You mean to bring about the End Times,” Phil said as he recognized the dark angel's strategy. “You want us to destroy ourselves.”
“It would prove our point,” Azazel confirmed. “We’ve always held you humans were not worthy of God’s faith in you.”
Phil offered no reply, and Azazel went on, “The nice touch in this was how we were able to get the early fundamentalists to despise scientific materialism, but at the same time use its methods. Darwin, among others, said conflict aided evolution. Fundamentalists embraced the notion of conflict and sanctified it. It was a great coup for us. So was the Raptures. It’s based on Saint Paul’s random remark about people being taken up to meet the descending Christ. Darby fleshed out the idea nicely and gave born-again Christians a way to feel superior.”
“Divide and conquer,” Phil muttered.
“Yes,” Azazel chuckled. “Darby’s work was consolidated into the twelve volume Fundamentals in 1910. That pleased us to no end. We got similar results in Islam through Sayyid Qutb, also during the 20th Century. Basically, he advocated anarchy. He dressed it up by claiming any human government was corrupt by definition; therefore, the Sharia should be the only set of laws allowed on Earth. To get there, of course, all governments would have to be overthrown.”
“How does the patriarchy factor in?” Phil queried.
Azazel smirked in recognition of the insightful question and said, “The patriarchy was a biological necessity until fairly recent times -- the late 17th Century to be exact. Since then, the patriarchy has become an ideology. As with all ideologies, it is divisive, repressive, and perfectly suited to our needs.”
Phil considered this for a moment and then asked, “What about God’s blessing?”
Azazel frowned, “It’s a promise that God will be with the Israelites and take care of them. The blessing turned into the covenant God made with the people. After the patriarchal times, when each patriarch passed on God’s blessing to his son, the Kohanim carried the authority to receive God’s blessing and pass it onto the people.”
Manuel added, “He’s frowning, Phil, because the blessing messes with his logic that mankind is inherently evil.”
“But how does the blessing-issue factor into the mythos-logos problem?” Phil wondered.
Azazel spoke, “It gave the Israelites a way to view history as a confirmation that they were blessed by God. Even after all they have been through for thousands of years, they can look at their history and find God’s blessing.” Azazel paused and shook his head, “It’s most annoying. With that kind of guiding mythos to balance logos, we have a difficult time with them.”
Phil sighed and picked himself off the ground. He stood, facing the two angels, and said, “You’ll have a fight with my daughter.”
“I look forward to it,” Azazel replied and bowed in mock humility.