Silence grabbed the audience in awe.
The sages gawked at his direction for a while before they reacted at once.
“Impressive!
“Beautifully said indeed!”
“Absolutely true!”
Murmurs ensued from the audience of students.
In fact, the sacred teachings in Temples and educational centers had integrated music in their curriculum long before Pythagoras was born. However, no one in that classroom had seemed to comprehend or know the exact essence of music better than him.
The eldest wise man stepped forward and asked him, “What is your name, young man?”
“I am Pythagoras, a pilgrim and seeker of Truth.”
The eyes of the sage warmed and brightened. A hint of a smile appeared under his white thick moustache. His peers nodded in approval. Students, however, glared at him with mixed feelings apparent in their eyes riveted at him; puzzlement, awe, and envy. They seemed confused.
“Well, Pythagoras,” the eldest priest addressed him with his creaky voice. “In your case, I strongly recommend that you continue your pilgrimage in the Temple of Eshmun. Let the God Al be with you, my son!”
At the mention of that temple, Pythagoras visualized at once the healing ceremony he had witnessed before his departure to the Ionian Isles. With that image, surged the sadness he had experienced at his incapability to help; a feeling whose impact continued to affect him to date; thus, his reluctance to seek the sanctuary. However, the wisdom he had acquired with Thales and Pherecydes impelled him to grab another opportunity to fathom the secret of the healing god of his Ancestors.
Therefore, Sofia took him, a few days later, to the Temple of Eshmun. There, he met with the newly elected High Priest. Had he been a commoner, he never could have benefited from such a privilege. However, Pythagoras, a true seeker of Truth, treaded the path towards enlightenment. Thus, in the privacy of his chamber, the High Priest convened with him. They tackled, in an insightful way, the science of Therapeutic healing.
“The water in the pool where children are placed is naught but an accelerator of the healing process,” the High Priest revealed. “Water, my son, is a very pure element of Nature. It does not only wash out all the dirt from the body, but it also allows a certain feeling of elation.”
Surprised, Pythagoras muttered, “Hmm… interesting.” He needed more explanation, “So, it is not the water that heals.”
“Not exactly, yet, it does work as a purifier,” the High Priest admitted and leaned closer to confide in a low voice. “Truth be told, my son, it is the will within me, Abdu-Eshmun, combined with the power of Theurgy that processes the healing.”
“If so, then, I could enjoy the same will!” Pythagoras thought out loud. Then, incited by excitement, he inquired, “How can I have the power of Theurgy?”
“With all due respect to the capability of your mind, Pythagoras, and to the great energy that radiates from you, I must say that it is not yet the time for you to have these powers. You are only a beginner, and, the road is way too long. Be patient!” His forthright words, stated so firmly, echoed mightily in the ears of Pythagoras.
His mind went on alert.
So it happened that Pythagoras made his primary steps into his Initiation, there in Saydoun, where he had come out of the darkness and into the light of life. Soon, he came to acknowledge that the more he tackled the sacred teachings, the more the road appeared endless.
How deep could he really fare into the secrets of religion, divinity and the universe was yet to be known. Still ahead, the great mysteries hidden beyond the phenomenal world, lingered, awaiting him.
* * *
A week later, Pythagoras sought the calm mood of the golden sandy shore of the city of Sur. There, under a palm tree, he found a haven where he retreated with his Lyre. Unconcerned by the sand that spattered on his comely purple robe, he delighted in the breeze that wafted through his long mane and caressed his face. A sense of peace engulfed him. He meditated on the mystical musical tones his lyre generated in the air and past the sea waves.
Sur, the rock, the birth place of his father, related somehow to the city of Gebel, the Sacred Land of El. They both constituted, from times immemorial, the cradles of the Society of Sacred Builders. Temples, castles and even houses, built all over the Phoenician coastal cities, carried the fingerprints of that secret society. And that included many of these constructions in the villages of the mountains.
Pythagoras had only recently come to know about them and wondered. The Secret Builders did not limit their exploits to the land in which their society blossomed, but had successfully extended all over the reachable and unreachable world.
While in Greece, some Phoenician sages had revealed to him that the Sacred Builders endorsed a very strict selection in their acceptance of builders and workers among them. They, like the Murex Experts, endorsed a stern vigilance in the management and secrecy of their work.
Scrutinizing the shore from his spot, Pythagoras imagined those Sacred Builders departing from there and spreading all over the world, with their skills as wealth to contribute to other nations.
At the thought, a sense of nostalgia drove the cadence of his fingers on the lyre, producing harmonious tunes that conveyed his emotion. In his mind, he gave tribute to all the great men and women who had sailed from that same shoreline to venture to worlds unknown to them; worlds they had ended up civilizing!
And many they had been!
Kadmus…
One of the Kabirim, he had sailed to Greece to import to its nation the tablets of a sacred system of writing, the Phonetic Alphabet invented by Thor the Geblite. In consequence, Kadmus had changed the life of the Greeks forever. With the Alphabet, he had taught them to manifest their thoughts on Egyptian papyrus imported by Phoenician traders. Kadmus, this great Phoenician, had also built many Greek cities, like Thebes.
Elissa…
The name flashed in the mind of Pythagoras, along with the great deeds of that Tyrian princess. Known as Dido by the Romans, Elissa had sailed towards the black continent, built the city of Carthage on the coast of Tunisia, and became its queen, sometime around the year 814 BCE. Carthage, or Kart-Hadasht, was known in Phoenicia as the new city in order to distinguish it from an older Phoenician outpost, namely, Utica.
Of course, Carthage was not the first Phoenician colony ever established by the Phoenicians.
King Hiram of Tyre…
That Phoenician king had dispatched artisans to build the Temple[19] of Jerusalem. Pythagoras recalled the Phoenician sages of Greece and Saydoun narrating that story to him: “Jerusalem, my son, was founded by the Jebusites, a Phoenician tribe. They named it Jebus initially. Throughout history, the city changed its name several times. It was called Ari-El, meaning the Hill of the God El. Later on, Melki-Sedek wished to dedicate it to Shalim, the son of El, so he called it Ur-Shalim. However, when he ruled the city, people designated it as the City of Peace because he was known as the King-Priest of righteousness. The Romans, later on, named it El-ya.”
“And so, by historical necessity and logic,” the sages had continued, “the Temple of Jerusalem was, in fact, the Temple of Shalim. King Melki-Sedek specially requested its construction for King Hiram, known also as Ahiram of Sur. Henceforth; the Temple of Jerusalem is simply a small copy of the Temple of Melkart, previously built in the great city of Sur.”
Pythagoras pondered over those facts. He thought of the major contributions his Ancestors, the Phoenicians, offered to the people of the world.
The name of Thales flashed in his mind.
How can I forget Thales, my great teacher!
“Thales, oh Thales!” he whispered. Emotion grabbed him by the throat, his eyes blurred and his fingers stopped their musical game. Just yesterday, the news of his death had reached him. He had refused to believe that his beloved teacher had passed away to another life. However, at this very moment in which Pythagoras recalled that great Phoenician who had made such a difference
in his world, he was impelled to mourn him.
He murmured the words that the messenger had ascertained reading the epitaph of Thales:
“This tomb is so small, but the fame of the man had reached the sky, it is that of Thales, the Wise.”
He repeated them in the silence of his grieving heart as a tribute to the great man that Thales had been. Gathering his courage, he shook off his state of grief and leaped to his feet.
He meandered in the city with no particular aim, until he found himself facing the Great Temple of Baal-Melkart[20], the Lord of Eden.
One of a kind in all of ancient Loubnan, the Temple stood majestically impressive. At each side of its entrance, two winsome pillars stood as guards to the main door of Cedar wood. One of them was made of Hajjar al Urjouwan, the Purple Stone, or Ruby, and the other shone as Crystal or Pure Gold.
He stood in awe, once again, in front of its greatness. Today, however, he decided to enter its abode and convene with the priests.
With confident, yet reverential steps, Pythagoras entered with the intention to listen and learn from the High Priest Ieto-Baal, whom he had already befriended.
Ieto-Baal, the Hierophant of Baal-Melkart, received him for the first time into the secret domain of the society. They soon engaged in their meeting.
“One night, a long time ago, a great rain and wind storm struck hard on our city,” Ieto-Baal related in an even voice as if he had narrated this story hundreds of times. “All the bamboo houses crashed down, so did all the trees of the city. A powerful thunderclap hit the adjacent forest and set it on fire. The fiery flames devoured almost every tree there in less than an hour, leaving in its wake an incredible devastation. The disastrous fire spread to the city, burning it down to ashes and killing a large number of its residents.”
“Very few survived. Among them was a man called Ieosos. To his luck, he found only one tree on the ground that had not been touched by fire. He trimmed off all its branches, put it in the water and sailed the sea. Upon reaching the island of Sur, not far away from the city of Sur, he erected two pillars, one for the fire and the second for the wind.”
“Once done, he faced them abashed, wondering what they really meant to him. He realized then that they represented the two powerful elements of nature that he could not control; fire and wind. Thus, he decided to worship them, although…” Ieto-Baal paused on a particular hidden thought of his.
Pythagoras took the advantage to comment, “Do you mean to tell me that the pillars were the first symbols of worship ever and that it happened here in Sur? That’s enormous!” He exclaimed.
“Yes son… kind of,” the High-Priest Ieto-Baal answered with pride. “Yet, bear in mind that Ieosos did not worship them because they were mere pillars he strove to erect. They, in fact, became the symbols of both fire and wind; two fearsome elements hidden within the power of nature. He just feared them as such and believed them to be deadly measures which gods used in their fury against people.”
He paused for a moment to wipe the sweat off his forehead and drink from his goblet of water.
Pythagoras remained silent and waited…
“These two pillars that you now see on both sides of our Great Temple do not, however, represent fire and wind at all, not anymore,” he revealed with his eyes widened on Pythagoras as if to emphasize his statement. “They actually symbolize Justice and Mercy; the two great functions of the Universal God Al-Elyon!”
“The Temples that the Sacred Builders built, and continue to build to date, are divided into three parts. Let me put it this way: to enter the Temple, you initially walk between The Pillars, that is the first part. You then reach the second part that we call the place of The Saint. It is there that incense is burned in the altar. From there, you continue straight to the last section, The Saint of Saints; where the statue of the God Al, or Baal, stands.”
Ieto-Baal stretched his back to look above Pythagoras’ head towards the closed door of his chamber. Reassured of their privacy, he relaxed to pursue his explanation, yet the tone of his voice remained low in conveying what was concealed to the commoners.
“In the eye of the common believer, the Temple is a sacred place where people practice, be it in the outside hall or around it, a ritual of faith that a priest celebrates to a certain god. However, what people do not really know is that some special geometrical calculations were taken into consideration, and effectively used, in the sacred building of most of our great Temples. In fact, these special geometrical calculations generate a kind of divine receptor. They help the Temple absorb the energy of God the Most High El. This is part of the hidden reality, or shall I say, its esoteric side,” the Hierophant concluded with finality and looked straight into the eyes of his student.
“But… uh…,” Pythagoras blurted out in confusion. “What does that lead us to understand?”
The Surian Hierophant stood up, glanced down at his student for a moment, and without further explanation, walked out of the chamber. Pythagoras was stunned as the door closed behind his tutor and intrigued by the secret message that was left for him to decipher; a mysterious riddle whose great meanings Pythagoras intended to discover.
* * *
To Pythagoras, the days seemed to end swiftly, the nights, by contrast, appeared to lengthen, abiding by a slothful rhythm. Yet, he cherished those long nights he spent under the Lebanese sky. Wearing his purple robe, he ambled barefooted on the sand of the Surian beach. Like a monk would, Pythagoras reflected on the arcane character of the Temple.
In a mechanical motion, acquired in childhood, he bent to grab a murex shell and brought it to his ear. The sound of the ocean whooshed deep and mysterious. For the first time, Pythagoras discerned the physical reality of the sound, and halted in suspense, as he tried in body, mind, and soul, to fathom its message. From the abyss of its many years of existence, past memories of the sea echoed the voice of silence in his inner realm, whispered into his mind, merged with his spirit, and vibrated within his body.
Upon heeding this revelation, Pythagoras realized the power of his own three dimensions; his tri-une nature of being. He felt the excitement of edging closer to the answer of his query. He sank to his knees at once and his finger scribbled fast on the sand the strange puzzle the Surian High Priest had left behind.
He read the words, once then twice, a smile lifting his spirits, his heart beat accelerated and… eureka! A tremendous relief triggered a compelling laughter from the bottom of his being and lifted his face to the stars in delight at the wonderful discovery.
The three divisions of the Temple… They are simply an allegory of my tri-une microcosmic being! It is who I am! Who everyone is!
As a neophyte, a true seeker of Truth, he had ultimately found the real Temple of God. But what should be done now, Pythagoras thought, was to complete the work started by God. It would be up to us to finish it, so that we may become what we are, temples of the Divine Light, he concluded then deepened on the concept of who he really was and who he would become.
Then, quiet was his mind.
Silent was the night.
* * *
Days passed with Pythagoras advancing in his journey of edification. The nights would find him at the shore in meditation. In that particular evening, few days after his significant discovery, Pythagoras meandered on the beach. He cherished the gentle breeze and the sound of the waves that flirted with the shore of the Surian Island. The stars spread their splendor all through the vast clear sky where the moon ruled in grandeur.
According to an ancient legend, Astarte, the goddess of fertility, had once made a star fall to the ground on that Surian Island. In consequence, it became a sacred place.
Pythagoras continued his way to the Great Temple. There, he paused for a moment to admire the game of the moon rays on the finely carved stones of its façade. With quiet steps, he entered the gate by the two pillars.
He came to an abrupt stop and turned around. Was it the sound of the wind, or had he really heard a
strange voice addressing him in a mysterious language? Cautiously, yet fearlessly, he retraced his steps and stood for a moment between the pillars. The voice, their voices probably, whispered to his heart, songs of resistance; resistance through the ages by challenging the evil and the injustice of this world.
Their message was clear, his mind, heart and spirit bowed in homage and respect. With pride and a renewed confidence, he entered the Great Temple and crossed the Saints into the Saint of Saints. There he halted a second in front of the statue of the god Baal-Melkart then continued down to the underground chamber where Initiations often took place.
Inside the secret domain of the Society, the High Priest Ieto-Baal welcomed him formally and offered him a seat at his side. On the wall behind the altar, an engraved image of a serpent with a Phoenix head, stretched from the center of a burning circle.
Confused by the possible meaning of the engraved scene, Pythagoras, dressed in a purple robe, addressed the High-Priest, “I have seen the serpent before. It was in the Temple of Eshmun. They informed me there that it symbolizes the art of medicine that remains incomplete without the scepter of the healing god.”
Ieto-Baal nodded and his bottomless eyes encouraged him to pursue. So he did, “It looks different here, kind of bizarre, I must say. What do these images symbolize?”
The reverend nodded again, slowly and went on with his explanation. “The serpent was considered divine to Hermes-Enoch-Tautus, the first Kabir in our Land and in Egypt as well. It is, in fact, a very special creature; the wisest of all animals. It breathes stronger than any because of the fire element that runs at a very high speed through its entire body. This same fire grants the serpent a great power for maneuvering and the capability of an extraordinary bodily modulation.”
Astonished, Pythagoras remained speechless in spite of the many questions that unfurled in his mind concerning that creature. Ieto-Baal seemed to have more words to add and more secrets to reveal. Pythagoras listened.
Pythagoras the Mathemagician Page 10