“Before all things,” commences a phrase in one ritual, “are the chaos, the darkness, and the gates of the land of night.” It is in this dark, chaotic night so blindly called life, a night in which we struggle, labor, and war incessantly for no reasonable end, that we ordinary human beings stumble and proceed about our various tasks. These gates of the far-flung empire of the night indeed refer eloquently to the material bondage that we ourselves have created—a bondage whereby we are tied to our circumstances, to our selves, to trial of every kind, bound to the very things we so despise and hate. It is not until we have clearly realized that we are enmeshed in darkness, an interior darkness, that we can commence to seek for that alchemical solvent that shall disperse the night, and call a halt to the continual projection outwards of the blackness that blinds our souls. As in the Buddhist scheme, where the first noble truth is sorrow, so not until we have been brought by experience to understand life as sorrow, can we hope for the cessation of its dread ravage. Only then does the prospect open of breaking the unconscious projection, the ending of which discloses the world and the whole of life in a totally different light. “One thing only, brother, do I proclaim,” said the Buddha, “now as before. Suffering and deliverance from suffering.”
These restricting circumstances and bonds are only the gates of the wilderness. The use of the word “gate” implies a means both of egress and ingress. By these gates we have entered, and by them also may we go out if so we choose, to enter the brilliance of the dawning sun, and perchance greet the rising of the spiritual splendour. For “after the formless, the void, and the darkness, then cometh the knowledge of the light.” As intimated above, one first must have realized that one’s soul is lost in darkness before a remedy can be sought to that irresponsible participation mystique, the unconscious projection outwards of interior confusion, and aspire to that divine land which is, metaphorically, the place of one’s birth. In that land is no darkness, no formlessness, no chaos. It is the place of the light itself—that light “which no wind can extinguish, which burns without wick or fuel.”
Being “brought to the light” then is a very apposite description of the function of initiation. It is the Great Work. There is no ambiguity in the conception of the rituals, for it appears throughout the entire work from Neophyte to Adeptus Minor and perhaps beyond. For the path is a journeying upwards on the ladder of existence to the crown of the Tree of Life, a journey where every effort made and every step taken brings one a little nearer to the true glory of the clear light. As we know, the experience of the rising of the light in both vision and waking state is common to mystics of every age and of every people. It must be an experience of the greatest significance in the treading of the path because its appearance seems always and everywhere an unconditional psychic thing. It is an experience that defies definition, as well in its elementary flashes as in its most advanced transports. No code of thought, philosophy, or religion and no logical process can bind it or limit it or express it. But always it represents, spiritually, a marked attainment, a liberation from the turmoil of life and from psychic complications, and, as Dr. C.G. Jung has expressed the matter, it “thereby frees the inner personality from emotional and imaginary entanglements, creating thus a unity of being which is universally felt as a release.” It is the attainment of spiritual puberty, marking a significant stage in growth.
Symptomatic of this stage of interior growth is the utter transformation that comes over what previously appeared to be “the chaos, the darkness, and the gates of the land of night.” While man is assumed into godhead, and the divine spirit is brought down into manhood, a new heaven and a new earth make their appearance, and familiar objects take on a divine radiance as though illumined by an internal spiritual light. And this is what, in part at any rate, was meant by the old alchemists, for the finding of the Philosopher’s Stone converts all base metals into the purest gold. In his book Centuries of Meditation, Thomas Traherne gives an interesting description of the rapture of the inner personality, its reaction to the world, when it is freed by the mystical experience from all entanglements. He says: “The corn was orient and immortal wheat, which never should be reaped, nor was ever sown. I thought it had stood from everlasting to everlasting. The dust and the stones of the street were as precious as gold; the gates were at first the end of the world. The green trees when I saw them first through one of the gates, transported and ravished me, their sweetness and unusual beauty made my heart to leap, and almost mad with ecstasy, they were such strange and wonderful things. The men! O what venerable and reverent creatures did the aged seem! Immortal Cherubim! And the young men glittering and sparkling angels, and maids, strange seraphic pieces of life and beauty. Boys and girls tumbling in the street, and playing, were moving jewels … I knew not that they were born or should die. But all things abided eternally as they were in their proper places. Eternity was manifest in the Light of the Day, and something infinite behind everything appeared …”
And to illustrate the magical attitude towards life and the world when initiation has produced its true result, there is another exalted panegyric by Traherne, which I cannot desist from quoting. For let me add that magic does not countenance a retreat from life, an escape from the turmoils of practical life. It seeks only to transmute what formerly was dross into gold. Initiation has as its object the commencement of a new life, to transform the base and low into the pure and unutterably splendid. “All appeared new and strange at first, inexpressibly rare and delightful and beautiful. I was a little stranger which at my entrance into the world was saluted and surrounded with innumerable joys. My knowledge was Divine; I knew by intuition those things which since my Apostacy I collected again by the highest reason. My very ignorance was advantageous. I seemed as one brought into the state of innocence. All things were spotless and pure and glorious; yea, and infinitely mine and joyful and precious. I knew not that there were any sins, or complaints or laws. I dreamed not of poverties, contentions, or vices. All tears and quarrels were hidden from my eyes. Everything was at rest, free and immortal. I knew nothing of sickness or death or exaction. In the absence of these I was entertained like an angel with the works of God in their splendour and glory; I saw all in the peace of Eden … All Time was Eternity, and a perpetual Sabbath …”
Such is the stone of the Philosophers, the Quintessence, the Summum Bonum, true wisdom, and perfect happiness.
Psellus, the Neoplatonist, has written that the function of initiatory magic was “to initiate or perfect the human soul by the powers of materials here on earth; for the supreme faculty of the soul cannot by its own guidance aspire to the sublimest intuition and to the comprehension of Divinity.” It is a commonplace aphorism in occultism that “Nature unaided fails.” That is to say that the natural life, if left to itself, and isolated from the impact of a higher type of life or consciousness, can only produce a commonplace thing of the natural life. It reminds us of the sentiment of the alchemists who expressed contempt of their first matter as it existed in its natural or impure state, in the condition where it normally is found. But this first matter, cleansed and purified by the psycho-chemical art of alchemy, that is to say by initiation—is that which is transformed into the most precious thing in the whole world. But until cleansed and purified, it is of little or no value. Nature, however, aided where she had left off by wise and devout men, may surpass herself. And this is why Psellus claims that the soul of itself and by itself is not able to attain to divinity unless and until it is guided by initiates and thus enfolded into another life.
It is to effect this integration, to bring about this initiation, this exaltation of the consciousness above its natural state to the light divine, that the magical system of the Golden Dawn, or of any other legitimate initiating system, owes its existence. The function of every phase of its work, the avowed intention of its principal rituals, and the explicit statement of its teaching, is to assist the candidate by his own aspirations to find that unity of being which
is the inner self, the pure essence of mind, the Buddha-nature. Not only does the system imply this by its ritualistic movements and axiomata, but there are clear and unmistakable passages where these ideas are given unequivocal expression. Thus, we find it written that the entire object of initiation and mystical teaching is “by the intervention of the symbol, ceremonial and sacrament, so to lead the soul that it may be withdrawn from the attraction of matter and delivered from the absorption therein, whereby it walks in somnambulism, knowing not whence it cometh nor whither it goeth.” And moreover, in the same ritual, celebrated at the autumnal and vernal equinoxes, the Chief Adept officiating recites an invocation beseeching guidance for the newly installed Hierophant. It is asked “that he may well and worthily direct those who have been called from the tribulation of the darkness into the light of this little kingdom of Thy love. And vouchsafe also, that going forward in love for Thee, through him and with him, they may pass from the desire of Thy house into the light of Thy presence.” This is succeeded by sentences read by the Second and Third Adepti: “The desire of Thy house hath eaten me up,” and “I desire to be dissolved and to be with Thee.”
And finally, that not the least vestige of misunderstanding or misconception may remain as to the objects of this divine theurgy, let me reproduce one last quotation from this same ritual. Referring to the Supernals and the temple that in old time was built on high, the speech adds: “The holy place was made waste and the sons of the house of wisdom were taken away into the captivity of the senses. We have worshiped since then in a house made with hands, receiving a sacramental ministration by a derived light in place of the cohabiting glory. And yet, amidst signs and symbols the tokens of the higher presence have never been wanting in our hearts. By the waters of Babylon we have sat down and wept, but we have ever remembered Zion; and that memorial is a witness testifying that we shall yet return with exultation into the house of our Father.”
Thus and unmistakably is the true object of the Great Work set before us, and we shall do well ever to keep eye and aspiration firmly fixed thereto. For while the road to the spiritual Zion demands great exertion, and because it is a way that at times proceeds by devious routes, there is great temptation to linger by the roadside, to stroll down pleasant side-lanes, or to play absentmindedly with toys or staves cut but to assist our forward march. But if we forget not to what noble city the winding path leads us, little danger can overtake any who pursue it steadfast to the end. It is only when the abiding city is forgotten that the road becomes hard, and the way beset by unseen danger and difficulty.
Prior to attempting to describe a few of the salient points of the rituals—briefly, for since they appear within these volumes, they must be individually studied and experienced so that an individual point of view may be acquired—it may be advisable to devote a few explanatory words to the art of ceremonial initiation itself.
A useful and significant preface may be taken from Dr. Jung’s commentary to Wilhelm’s translation of The Secret of the Golden Flower, where there is much that explains the ritualistic functions of magic. “Magical practices are,” he declares, “the projections of psychic events which, in cases like these, exert a counter influence on the soul, and act like a kind of enchantment of one’s own personality. That is to say, by means of these concrete performances, the attention or better said the interest, is brought back to an inner sacred domain which is the source and goal of the soul. This inner domain contains the unity of life and consciousness which, though once possessed, has been lost and must now be found again.”
From one point of view, the officers employed in these rituals represent just such psychic projections. They represent, even as figures in dreams do, different aspects of man himself—personifications of abstract psychological principles inhering within the human spirit. Through the admittedly artificial or conventional means of a dramatic projection of these personified principles in a well-ordered ceremony a reaction is induced in consciousness. This reaction is calculated to arouse from their dormant condition those hitherto latent faculties represented objectively in the temple of initiation by the officers. Without the least conscious effort on the part of the aspirant, an involuntary current of sympathy is produced by this external delineation of spiritual parts, which may be sufficient to accomplish the purpose of the initiation ceremony. The aesthetic appeal to the imagination—quite apart from what could be called the intrinsic magical virtue with which the G.D. documents Z.1. and Z.3. deal at some length—stirs to renewed activity the life of the inner domain. And the entire action of this type of dramatic ritual is that the soul may discover itself exalted to the heights, and during that mystical elevation receive the rushing forth of the light.
Applying these ideas, then, to the Neophyte or 0 = 0—so called because it is not attributed to any of the enumerations or Sephiroth on the Tree of Life since it is a preliminary or probationary grade—we find that the Kerux is an officer who personifies the reasoning faculties. He represents that intelligent active part of the mind that functions ever in obedience to the will—the Qabalistic ruach, in a word. The higher part of that mind, the aspiring, sensitive, and the intuitive consciousness is represented by the Hegemon, who seeks the rising of the light. And the Hierophant, in this initial ceremony of the Neophyte, acts on behalf of the higher spiritual soul of man himself, that divine self of which too rarely, if ever at all, we become aware. “The essence of mind is intrinsically pure,” is a definition of the Bodhisattva Sila Sutra, and it is this essential state of enlightenment, this interior self, Osiris glorified through trial and perfected by suffering, which is represented by the Hierophant on the dais. He is seated in the place of the rising sun, on the throne of the east, and with but two or three exceptions never moves from that station in the temple. As the Qabalah teaches, the everlasting abode of the higher self is in the Eden of Paradise, the Supernal sanctuary that is ever guarded from chaos by the flaming sword of the Kerubim whirling every way on the borders of the abyss. From that aloof spiritual stronghold it gazes down upon its vehicle, the lower man, evolved for the purpose of providing it with experience—involved in neither its struggles or tribulations, yet, from another point of view, suffering acutely thereby. And seldom does that genius leave its palace of the stars except when, voluntarily, the lower self opens itself to the higher by an act of sincerest aspiration of self-sacrifice, which alone makes possible the descent of the light within our hearts and minds. Thus when the Hierophant leaves the throne of the east, he represents that higher self in action, and as Osiris marks the active descent of the supernal splendour. For he says, as he leaves the dais with wand uplifted: “I come in the power of the light. I come in the light of wisdom. I come in the mercy of the light. The light hath healing in its wings.” And having brought the light to the aspirant, he returns to his throne, as though that divine genius of whom he is the symbol awaited the deliberate willing return of the aspirant himself to the everlasting abode of the light.
Even in the communication of the usual claptrap of secret societies, the signs and grips, all these are explained solely in terms of the quest for the light. Also the various groupings of officers and their movements in the temple are not without profound meaning. These should be sought out, since they constantly reiterate the implicit purpose of the rite. Thus, at the altar, the three principal officers form about the candidate a triad, representing in symbolic formation again the supernal clear light of the void, and this also is represented by the number of the circumambulations about the confines of the temple. The white cord bound thrice about the waist has reference to the same set of ideas. Even upon the altar of the temple are symbols indicating the rise of light. A red Calvary Cross of six squares as symbolic of harmony and equilibrium is placed above a white triangle—the emblem of the Golden Dawn. They form the symbol of the supernal Sephiroth, which are the dynamic life and root of all things, while in man they constitute that triad of spiritual faculties which is the intrinsically pure essence of mind
. Hence the triangle is a fitting emblem of the light. And the place of the cross above the triangle suggests not the domination of the sacred spirit, but its equilibration and harmony in the heart of man. Despite the fact that the whole of this intricate symbolism can hardly be realized by the candidate at the time of his initiation, its intrinsic value is such that unconsciously as an organized body of suggestion it is perceived and noted and strikes the focal centre.
We are taught by tradition that the entire object of the sacred rites was the purification of the soul so that its power could gradually dissolve the impediments of, and percolate through, the heavy body and opaque brain. “Know,” says Synesius, “that the quintessence and hidden thing of our stone is nothing else than our viscous celestial and glorious soul drawn out of its minera by our magistery.” Hence the entire trend of the preliminary Neophyte grade of the Golden Dawn is towards the purification of the personality. It fulfills the testimony of the Hermetic art so that the light within could be fermented and perfected by the ceremonial method of initiation. Purification and consecration—this is the insistent and uncompromising theme caught by the candidate’s ear. “Unpurified and unconsecrated thou canst not enter our sacred hall!” Fire and water assist in these several consecrations until, eventually, the candidate is placed in the position of balanced power, between the two pillars, where the first link is effected with his higher and divine genius.
_____
The Neophyte ritual really stands by itself. It is an introductory ceremony shadowing forth all the major formulae and techniques. With the Adeptus Minor ritual it is concerned almost entirely with the light itself. The five grades that are placed between them have as their object the awakening of the elemental bases of what must develop into the instrument of the higher. Awakened and purified, they may be consecrated to the Great Work, in order that they may become worthy vehicles for the indwelling of the light. First, however, it is necessary that they be awakened. For, psychological truism that it is, until their presence is realized their transmutation cannot be accomplished. In symbolic form and pageantry, the ceremony of each grade calls forth the spirits of a particular element. And as a steel placed in close proximity to a magnet receives some degree of its magnetism, and comparable to the electrical phenomenon of induction, so the presence of power induces power. Contact with the appropriate type of elemental force produces an identical type of reaction within the sphere of the Neophyte, and it is thus that growth and advancement proceeds. The speeches of the officers deal almost exclusively with the knowledge pertaining to that element and grade, and excerpts from fragmentary remains of the ancient mysteries and from certain of the books of the Qabalah do much towards producing an impressive atmosphere.
The Golden Dawn Page 6