by Yasmin Esack
“I’m glad you did. This place is amazing.”
Hart was staring at a deep abyss. There were passages in the walls that ended in foreboding darkness. He gasped. A momentary stream of light revealed an object. It was lodged at the bottom of a pit. With the light gone, the pit was pitch-dark again.
“Hand me your light,” he shouted to Salaam.
By the light of the torch, they could see the outline of an old and worn manuscript. Hart could barely make out the etchings on its cover.
“What do you think it could be?”
“Whatever it is, you can’t get it, Mr. Hart. There are snakes in that pit.”
“Hold the torch a minute.”
“Mr. Hart, what are you doing?” Salaam panicked.
Hart took a deep breath and jumped on a ledge. His feet slipped on broken mud and he landed on the floor. Circling him were hissing asps. He stretched his hand as far as he could. The manuscript was four feet away. He grabbed it and looked up. He could see Salaam’s body hanging down the pit, his right arm extended.
Chapter 43
“Alchemy comes from Al-Kimia, a Persian word. This is an eight century work of Jabir Ibn Hayyan, Mr. Hart. He promulgated Takwin, the creation of artificial life, an act that tapped the spiritual forces of nature.”
“He used five elements, air, ether, earth, fire, water, and, maybe two metallic elements to do it. Now, we can see how.”
Hart took a gulp of water from a bottle and sank to the ground holding the manuscript in his hand.
“This is quite an amazing find,” Salaam commented. “Hayyan was an astronomer, a mathematician and a notable alchemist. You know what he said?”
“What, Salaam?”
“His works were intended for those who accepted God as a creator. It was not for unbelievers. In essence, he fiercely guarded his works.”
Hart turned the sheets of the manuscript and stopped. “Hell, it’s coded, Salaam.” Disappointment ran deep for Hart was obsessed with alchemy. Zosimos, the Greek alchemist who had lived in Akhmim came to his mind. He defined alchemy as a process of drawing spirits from bodies of matter. He referred to a hermetic bowl which represented the divine mind and into which an initiate could be baptized and travel to different realms. “Can anyone decipher Hayyan’s code?”
“One would need a steganographer.”
“A what?”
“Steganography is the art of writing hidden messages.”
“Why’s this work encrypted?”
“Hayyan wrote for those who attended his alchemical school. It is said he created life forms in a lab. He claimed his mystical science of transmutating matter came from Hermes Trismegetus.”
“Hermes Trismegetus?”
“Yes.”
“Hermes was a god. He was also known as Thoth.”
“He was around before Moses. Some claim Moses and Abraham acquired their mysticism from him. The Hermetica is a work attributed to Hermes Trismegetus.”
“According to it, he used stones, alien matter, to render health and eternity. I sure wish I knew how it all operated, Salaam.”
“I doubt if anyone really knows. The classic elements of alchemy represent different states of matter.”
“Yeah, I know that.”
“There is, however, a sixth state.”
“There is?”
“It’s hidden and is supposed to affect the other states.”
Hart was deep in thought over what Salaam said. What was he missing he questioned as his mind sought answers.
“How could I be so foolish!” he soon exclaimed.
“Mr. Hart?” Salaam frowned.
“How could I be so foolish? How could I?”
“What is it, Mr. Hart?”
“I know what the sixth state is.”
“You do?” Salaam didn’t hide his disbelief.
“Was Hayyan extremely religious?”
“He was extremely devout. He would not share his knowledge with disbelievers.”
“The missing element is mind, pure mind! Where the mind is, there lies the treasure.” Hart’s voice boomed in the dank air of the ancient monastery as he paced the mud floor. “All miracle workers of the past had one thing in common and that was complete devotion.”
“Mind, you say?” Salaam was trying to fathom Hart’s argument.
“Supernatural mind that comes from our inner realm through meditation. Hayyan’s mind was probably close to the universal mind. It’s like they operated together.”
“You’re sure humans could access supernatural power from within, Mr. Hart?”
“I know they can, Salaam.”
“Have you heard of the Emerald Tablet also called The Secret of Hermes?”
“No.”
“It’s another text that’s attributed to Hermes. There’re many translations of it, including one by Newton.”
“Newton?”
“Yes. The text makes reference to Prima Materia, the unidentifiable base of matter.”
“Of course,” Hart’s memory clicked in. “In ancient times, Prima Materia was ascribed to things like heaven and light, but, the Greek philosopher, Anaxagoras, ascribed it to nous or mind. The universal mind is the base of matter. Devout alchemists manipulated its powers. They healed, created, and transformed.”
“The Arabic translation of the Emerald Tablet declares that all things arise from one by adaptation. Newton said: Its force or power is entire. By this means, ye shall have the glory of the whole world.”
“You see, we are destined to be gods.”
“Maybe, Mr. Hart.”
They exited the ancient monastery and passed through the courtyard that housed the tombs of ancient governors and made their way to the waiting taxi.
“Jerusalem may be your best shot at finding the gospel pages. I know that you believe a full explanation of our life and where we go after death exist in those pages.”
“I do.”
“I spoke to a guy in Tel Aviv called Eli Yehudi. He’ll do all he can to help. He’s a very knowledgeable man.”
“What’s his lead?”
“The Calouste Gulbenkian Library. It’s under the care of the Armenian Patriarchate.”
“Oh?” Hart shuddered. They were a strict lot who imposed restrictions on everything.
“Don’t worry. Eli would’ve spoken to them.”
The sun blazed the golden sands below a raw blue sky as the car took a road back to the city. Hart spoke again.
“Did you get any leads on the Secret Gospel of Mark, Salaam?” Hart hadn’t forgotten about the gospel that Malaki Thoplikos of Simonopetra mentioned. Thoplikos had said it was introduced to Alexandria by the apostle, Mark, in the second century.
“It seems that gospel was intended for an inner circle of early Christians. It wasn’t for the public. A letter written by Clement purporting the gospel’s existence was found at the monastery of Mar Saba on the West bank.”
“What was in Clement’s letter?”
“Clement regarded it as a spiritual version. He quoted from it.”
“He did?” Hart was very surprised.
“Clement also claimed the Secret Gospel of Mark was circulated by Gnostics of the Carpocration sect.”
“What do you know about them?”
“What we know comes from Irenaeus of Lyons. He was a Gnostic hater. Irenaeus said they practiced magic and adorned an image of Christ with paintings of Plato, Aristotle and Pythagoras.”
Hart imbibed it all. He pictured Clement as a far-thinking man trying desperately to resolve the issue of absolute reality. He smiled. Thousands of years later, he was trying to do the same.
“What exactly did Clement say about the secret gospel, Salaam?”
“That the mystery of an inner kingdom was discussed in the gospel.”
“Oh?”
“Further, Clement claimed instructions were given by Mark for those persons who wanted to be perfected by the kingdom.”
“Really?” Hart recalled what little he k
new of human perfection. A perfect human could be smaller than an atom or larger than a mountain. He could achieve any material effect like creating a planet, have control of others and travel anywhere in the universe. To achieve this state, a person had to access super consciousness within. It was the highest state available to humans. “What were the instructions? Did Clement say in his letter?”
“We don’t know anything about those instructions, Mr. Hart. We would never know as the Secret Gospel of Mark was never found. Eli Yehudi may know more of it.”
Chapter 44
Hart had taken a bus to Jerusalem City. From where he stood, he could see the wall of King Solomon’s Temple. At 24 degrees in the open sun, he didn’t think the city was a hot place. He looked out at the stone terraces that kept the soil from eroding and wondered what the city would have been like if it had had its original pine and almond forests.
He looked up as a man approached. Eli Yehudi was a forty-two year old scholar who had settled back in his home after traveling the world. He was of medium built and wore a shawl across his white shirt. His head was covered with a kippah.
“A pleasure to meet you.” Eli’s white teeth were as discernible as his bright smile.
“Same here, Eli.”
“Come this way.”
Eli led him to a coffee shop that was a block away. Hart looked around, feeling part of an ambiance that was unhurried at that hour. The surrounding trees filtered sun on the table where they sat. It was 8.30 A.M.
“Where shall we begin, Mr. Hart?”
“Would you happen to know anything about the Secret Gospel of Mark?”
“Oh!” the Jew responded.
“Do think there’s truth to its existence?”
“I do, although some will deny it. Through Clement of Alexandria, we know that the gospel existed. Clement’s letter was sound and couldn’t have been forged. Such things didn’t happen, so I see no reason to suggest the gospel never ever existed. Many argue that the canon gospel is a rewrite of the original gospel and some say there are separate texts. The original was supposed to convey secret knowledge to a select few. There would have only been a few copies.”
“Is there any way to know of this knowledge, anyway at all?”
“Of course not, but I can discuss the mystical teachings that led to all the monasteries that exist today.”
“I don’t want a discussion of miracles, visions and a contemplation of the soul. I want the gnosis. I want the secrets.”
“You will not find them. Only the apostles would have known, and scripture tells us they followed the teachings of a kingdom which leads to salvation.”
“What do you know of the kingdom?”
“The problem for me lies with its translation. The Hebrew word for kingdom is malkuth or realm.”
“I see.”
“According to the Kabala, there are many realms, the lowest being the material realm. The Essenes would not have known of any connection between mind and matter but they were mystical, devoid of worldly needs. According to Hippolytus of Rome, they spoke of a nature which is both hidden and revealed at the same time, a kingdom which is in a human. They believed in prophecy.”
“The Essenes existed thousands of years ago and were scattered through many parts of ancient Judea. Is it possible that Joseph and Mary were Essenes? Mary Magdalene?”
“I couldn’t say, Mr. Hart. They existed from time immemorial, even before Moses. It’s suggested that it was Enoch who founded the Essence sect. According to Philo, the Greek philosopher from Alexandria, Moses trained many as Essenes.”
“Did they lend importance to the doctrines of Hermes Trismegetus? Any connection to alchemy?”
“It’s not possible to say.”
“Who would have known that matter gave rise to a passion or an image that has no equal?”
“The disciples and no one else, according to the Gospel of Mary Magdalene.”
“Is there anything in Judaism that discusses mind and matter?”
Eli shook his head. “No.”
Hart sighed. “I’m searching for the truth.”
“I know.”
“We don’t know much about ourselves, do we? We live in ignorance of who we are, but, much was told to mankind from gods who visited the earth. The Gospel of Thomas makes a most significant contribution, if not the most. A platform of possibility, human capability was expressed in this gospel because it says when you come to recognize yourself you must first recognize what is in your sight.”
“Then, what is hidden will be known,” Eli finished the sentence. He turned and glanced down David Street as far as the Souk or Arab market. There was much to remind him that he lived in a city quartered by Jews, Muslims, and Armenians. Synagogues, domes, and ancient walls reflected the obsession of the land. The light sun streaked across his face as he turned back to Hart. “Origen considered the Gospel of Thomas unorthodox as many did in his time. The Revered Cyril of Jerusalem had considered it a work of three wicked disciples of Mani, the founder of Manichaeism.”
“Which it wasn’t. Who else gave significance to the Gospel of Thomas, besides Mani?”
“No one I can recall.”
Hart sighed again. “Eli, according to the Gospel of Mary Magdalene, we should be encouraged in the presence of all forms of matter. But, most interestingly, it says every creature, every form lives in and with each other and would be resolved again to its proper root. Matter may exist not just in one but several dimensions. I need to verify it.”
“According to the Kabala, there are many realms, Mr. Hart.”
“But, there’s no mention of matter.”
Eli sipped his coffee. He couldn’t provide Hart with the stimulus he needed. He wasn’t sure anyone could.
“D’you know what the soul is?” he asked swaying Hart from his obsession with other worlds. The soul was almost unidentifiable he knew, and, difficult to describe.
“What’re your thoughts on it?”
“The soul enters all humans at birth.”
“I’ve heard that.”
“It enters as hidden light.”
“You couldn’t tell me if it’s in a realm, could you?”
“The soul is in a realm of perfect form.”
“Who told you this?”
“The soul survives after death, Mr. Hart, and, some Jews believe the physical body also survives.”
“But, what is it? What is the soul?”
“There are many definitions of the soul. Ruah is a breath of life. Nefesh means self as in oneself.”
“The soul animates our bodies, doesn’t it? The soul is our real self, our mirror image self.”
Eli chuckled. “Something like that but, interpretation is difficult.”
“Judaism is a difficult religion, I must admit. Have you heard of a Science called Noetic Science?”
“It draws on Quantum Physics, ancient mysticism and philosophy. It attempts to prove that there are mind-matter interactions.”
“Can we move a mountain with our minds, turn a loaf of bread into a thousand with a thought? The information I’m looking for will help me clarify issues connected to this science. I need the pages of the Gospel of Mary Magdalene. I’m sure it’s a treatment of mind and matter, exonoesis and exohyle. We can access the universe. Our minds connect to a supernatural mind.”
“We cannot accomplish supernatural things, Mr. Hart. We can’t move a mountain, at least not in our realm. Our creative energy is small. Maybe, in a higher realm, we can.”
“The missing pages of the Gospel of Mary Magdalene will tell me, Eli. I know they will.”
Jerusalem was calm that Friday morning. Hart gazed around to take his mind off his obsessions. The Mamilla Centre’s design tarnished the beauty of the Ottoman Walls, he thought, staring at it in the distance. He turned to Eli.
“Why have all the gods abandoned us? They came centuries ago. Evidence points to that. They came to give us direction and it pains me to think they won’t come back.”
“No one has answers but I believe a millennium of peace lies ahead, Mr. Hart. We’re still in a time of darkness, a time when we suffer, but a new age will begin. All the hidden things will be revealed. Mankind will be restored and goodness will flourish.” Eli finished his coffee and stood up. “Let’s take a walk. You must see a few things. You have come so far.”
They walked through the cobble stone streets and arches of Old Jerusalem City. They stopped at Jaffa Gate and looked at the Tower of David. The city was starting to breathe life and Hart could see scooters shooting across streets and market places.
“I’ve always wondered about something, Mr. Hart.”
“What, Eli?”
“Why does page seven of the gospel begin with a question: Will matter then be utterly destroyed or not?”
“It’s difficult to say exactly what the question refers to but I believe it was a reference to the transformation of our matter to a dimension or realm. There’s a realm of light in us.”
“It’s important you find those missing pages.”
“How can I?”
“The Gospel of Mary Magdalene was sold to a German art dealer in 1896.”
“Where could the pages have gone?”
Eli pointed to the Armenian Patriarchate not far away. It was the ‘Vatican’ of Jerusalem, housing the Calouste Gulbenkian Library. “They have some idea of it. Mr. Hart.”
Thanking Eli and saying goodbye, Hart crossed the street.
Chapter 45
The Armenian Patriarchate was a place of ancient corridors and bearded men. A strictly run institution, the front doors were closed at night for a curfew. Visitors were restricted to the cathedral of St. James, built on the tomb of the apostle, James.
It was a remarkable step back in time for Hart. As he walked up the cathedral steps, he felt hallow, being in a place of secrets and mysteries. It was like nothing he’d ever witnessed. The scent of the incense was cleansing and he was sure that it found favour with the gods. He stopped along the aisle to gaze at Khachkars, stone carvings bearing crosses and plant motifs and the most delicate assemblage of hanging lights he’d ever seen.