Beyond Heaven and Earth

by Steven H. Propp

  “Kind of like a Japanese version of Unity or Christian Science, I guess,” Jobran replied. In a voice of resignation, Jobran said, “So in summary, I guess it goes without saying that Jodo Shinshu Buddhism doesn’t hold out much prospect for me of an eternal life where I am reunited with my deceased wife, correct?”

  Reverend Hirota looked at Jobran with deep feeling, and shook his head gently. Then he started to say, “Of course, you understand that we are not denying the existence of such a state…”

  Jobran held up his hand, to stop him from continuing. “That’s not a problem; that’s about what I’d gathered from my reading.” He shrugged his shoulders, and said, “I guess I would have to say that for persons such as myself—who are most interested in the possibility of personal survival after death—your branch of Buddhism does not seem to be a very fruitful avenue to pursue. In that respect, I suppose it is similar to the Chinese religions of Taoism and Confucianism, which contain fascinating and profound teachings, but which say nothing about life after death—except perhaps in their most ‘popular’ and probably debased forms today.”

  Reverend Hirota bowed his head slightly, and said, “That is perhaps true—for persons exclusively looking for retention of the individual personality after death.” Then in an earnest tone, he added, “But for persons looking for a practical spiritual path to help them out in everyday living, Jodo Shinshu may be the ideal solution. We view death as a vehicle to help make us aware that life is fleeting, and should be cherished. Even a tragic event, such as the death of a loved one, can serve a useful purpose if it helps awaken the bereaved person to the truth. Many times, such a ‘jolt’ is necessary to wake us from our spiritual lethargy.”

  “That may well be true, Reverend,” Jobran said, rising from his chair, which cued Abraham to do the same. “Unfortunately, that isn’t the particular vow that I undertook to pursue when my wife died.” With a self-deprecating laugh, he added, “And at any rate, I think that the death of my wife certainly served to wake me from my spiritual lethargy.” He extended his hand, and they all shook hands.

  “Quite frankly, Reverend Hirota, I wish that I had known about Buddhism earlier, when my wife was alive,” Jobran said. “So much of it seems perfectly rational and makes intuitive sense, such as the Four Noble Truths—teaching that ordinary life is ultimately unsatisfying because of our desires and attachments. There are even Catholic teachers who are strongly influenced by Buddhism; it would have been very interesting to have been able to explore these paths with my wife.” With a sigh of resignation, he added, “But, such was not to be the case.”

  “As Shakymuni said, ‘Life is impermanent,’” Reverend Hirota said, and Jobran nodded his agreement, and he and Abraham headed for the door.

  Before opening the door to leave, Jobran turned back and said, “But I want to thank you so much for your time, and the information, Reverend Hirota. I sincerely wish the best for you and your sangha.”

  Then another thought occurred to him, and he added, “And remember: Shakyamuni didn’t deny that there was life after death—he only said that such questions were not ‘profitable’ for us in this lifetime.” With a grin, he added, “So who knows?”

  18

  THE ASCENDED MASTERS

  Jobran was a little tentative as he approached the door to the second-hand bookstore. He tried the doorknob and found it locked (not surprising in light of the fact that it was almost 8:00 o’clock at night), before he noticed the hand-lettered sign in the window that said, “Group meeting upstairs.”

  “What’s it say?” asked Abraham, who had had to lock up his car before catching up to Jobran.

  “It says they’re meeting upstairs—wherever that may be.”

  Abraham looked around the outside of the bookstore, and saw no stairways, or other entrances, and said, “The door’s probably around in the alley.”

  So the two friends walked around to the back alley behind the store. There was one door right next to the garbage cans that was locked, so they kept walking, and found another. Jobran tried the knob, which was also locked, but he discovered that it had been kept from locking by a small, carefully-placed stone, and pulled it open. “Voila,” he announced, and held the door open for Abraham, who entered tentatively.

  “You sure this is the place?” Abraham said, dubiously. “This looks more like the door to someone’s studio apartment.” Jobran didn’t answer, but let the way up the narrow stairwell. With an unseen grin, he said, “In this Quest, there’s no time for looking back.”

  As they neared the top, they heard several voices, both male and female, talking animatedly. Cautiously, Jobran stopped before a wide open doorway from which the voices were coming, and peered in. He saw six people—three male, and three female—sitting either cross-legged on the floor, or on one of a number of pillows that were scattered about. They were all sitting in a large room that was half-filled with stacks and stacks of boxes, which appeared to be filled with books, which lined the walls in huge stacks. As soon as Jobran stuck his head in the door, the conversation inside abruptly ceased, and every eye turned toward him, a slight tension in the air.

  “Umm…” he said with uncertainty. “Sorry to disturb you; we were looking for the Metaphysical Book Club?”

  There was a moment of silence, before a man in his thirties with a shaved head and a thick dark brown beard jumped up, and said, “That’s us!” Quickly, he walked over to Jobran extending his hand, and saying, “Welcome; it’s nice to meet you; I’m Stephen Ripkis.” He pronounced his first name with a distinct “f” sound.

  Jobran shook his hand, noting that two of the women sitting on the floor behind Stephen had quickly pulled out their compacts, and were hastily applying lipstick. Jobran motioned behind him for Abraham to enter, as he said, “I’m Jobran Winter, and this is…”

  “Rabbi Abraham Kaplan,” Abraham finished for him. There was a moment of silence as Abraham’s announcement of his “title” had its usual effect. (“You give us instant credibility,” Jobran often told him, laughing.) Shaking Stephen’s hand, Abraham added, “But call me Abe.”

  Stephen looked uncomfortable for a moment, then looked at them and asked in a hesitant voice, “You two…you aren’t some kind of…well, fundamentalists, are you?”

  Jobran shook his head emphatically. Smiling, he said, “Definitely not; we’re just ‘earnest seekers after the truth,’” and the group relaxed again.

  Jobran noticed that the eyes of the young woman closest to them was eyeing his left hand (which bore his wedding ring), then quickly shifted to Abraham’s hand (which was ringless). The young woman then gave Abraham a glowing smile, and patted a pillow next to her. “Nice to meet you, Abe; I’m Katherine, but you can call me Kate.” Abraham sat down next to her, and she pulled her own pillow closer to his. “I’m Jewish, too, by the way; non-observant, though.”

  “You’re not the only one,” Abraham replied with a smile, which she returned, settling in very close to him.

  Stephen pointed in turn to the other members of the group. “That’s Marcus; he’s the ‘intellectual’ of the group. Then that’s Rachele, and Julie; and Byron.”

  “Nice to meet you all,” Jobran said, and accepted Stephen’s invitation to sit next to him.

  “How did you hear about us?” Rachele asked.

  “There was a flyer I picked up while buying for some books downstairs last week,” Jobran replied.

  “See?” Julie said to Rachele, triumphantly. “Those flyers do work, sometimes.” To Jobran she then said, “Both of us work in the bookstore; I don’t remember seeing you before, though.”

  Jobran shrugged. “Actually, I buy most of my books online, but I’ve started doing more browsing in used book stores; you can discover a lot of books you’d never heard about that way.”

  “Smart move,” Rachele said, winking at him.

  Addres
sing both Jobran and Abraham, Stephen asked, “What interested you about the flyer?”

  “It was the words, ‘Teaching of the Ascended Masters,’” Jobran replied. “I like to think that I’m pretty widely read in religion and philosophy, but I wasn’t sure I understood what you meant by that. It also said that you studied Buddhism, Hinduism, as well as the topic of life after death, which is the particular interest of Abraham and I.”

  “Actually, we’re a pretty wide-ranging group,” Stephen explained. “We’ve got about eight or nine regular members of our group, but we don’t get new members or visitors very often. Byron was the last one to join, and that was several months ago.”

  “Which book are you currently discussing in the group?” Jobran asked.

  Stephen looked slightly embarrassed, and said, “Well, we’re still trying to decide that for our current cycle; that’s what we were arguing about when you came in. We usually go over a book every two weeks. We’re a pretty wide-ranging group; we read just about anybody in the esoteric traditions. In the past, we’ve read all the Theosophists such as Blavatsky, H.S. Olcott, A.P. Sinnett, Annie Besant, and Charles Leadbeater; Rudolf Steiner and Anthroposophy; Alice Bailey and the Arcane School; the Agni Yoga Society books by Helena and Nicholas Roerich; Baird T. Spaulding; Godfré Ray King—Guy Ballard, that is; the Bridge To Freedom books by Geraldine Innocente, writing as Thomas Printz—they used a lot of pen names in the early days; A.D.K. Luk; and even Mark and Elizabeth Clare Prophet.” He thought for a moment, then added, “And of course Gurdjieff and Ouspensky; but we usually have big fights when we read them, so we can’t read them too often.”

  “That’s a lot of books that you read,” Abraham commented. “How did most of you get interested in this subject?”

  “Several of us were raised in Waldorf Schools,” Marcus said. Seeing the blank looks on the faces of Jobran and Abraham, he explained patiently, “Waldorf Schools are based on the philosophy of Rudolph Steiner, the founder of Anthroposophy.

  Have you ever read—or at least heard of—Steiner?” He looked hopefully at Jobran and Abraham.

  Abraham shook his head, and Jobran said, “Marginally; wasn’t he originally a Theosophist?”

  Marcus nodded, and said, “Steiner was a great German scholar, who worked his whole life to develop a scientific method of spiritual research. He started his own school of Anthroposophy—the name derived from the Greek words for ‘man’ and ‘wisdom,’ and which he defined as ‘awareness of one’s humanity’—and wrote widely on artistic, cultural, and social issues, but it may be his educational, cultural and therapeutic work that are his greatest legacy.” With unfeigned enthusiasm, Marcus continued, “Waldorf Schools are the largest non-sectarian school movement in the country, and probably in the world. They are also starting to be established as charter schools in places like California.”

  Rachele snorted in good-natured derision, “How can you call Waldorf schools ‘non-sectarian’? They are just as dogmatic as the Southern Baptist school I went to when I was a kid!”

  Marcus made a “shooting” motion at Rachele with his fingers, then continued, “In connection with Steiner’s philosophy, Waldorf Schools emphasize the education of the whole person: intellectual, emotional, and spiritual. They particularly emphasize Eurythmy—which is Steiner’s philosophy about harmonious bodily movements expressing musical and poetic spirit, and helping us develop inner balance; art, such as painting and sculpture; drama and puppetry; stories and mythology to help children become more aware of their place in the world, and much more, as well as the standard academic curriculum.” He thought for a moment, then added with a slight downturn to his mouth, “In fact, some of us think that they emphasize the non-spiritual aspects almost too much these days.”

  “Isn’t, um…Anthroposophy—that’s hard to pronounce—sort of an offshoot of the 19th century Theosophical movement?” Jobran asked.

  There was a moment dead silence in the room. Rachele recovered first, and said, “Well, right there, you’ve hit upon probably our group’s single biggest ‘bone of contention!’ Marcus is a hard-core Anthroposophist, and Kate and I are more into Theosophy. I’m a ‘Back to Blavatsky’ kind of Theosophist, whereas Kate prefers Annie Besant and Leadbeater, as well as more recent Ascended Master teachings. The more recent stuff is totally what Stephen is into, and so is Julie— except that she joined the group because she wants to learn about the older, more traditional stuff, like H.P.B.’s Secret Doctrine, and such.” She gave Byron a friendly nudge, and added, “Byron doesn’t talk much, but I think he’s mostly into the ‘Mystery’ Schools of people like Gurdjieff, not to mention the ancient teachings of Atlantis and Lemuria, right?” Byron blushed, and looked down at the floor. Rachele continued, “The rest of the group—when they show up—is about evenly split between Anthroposophy, Theosophy, and former members of CUT—the Church Universal and Triumphant, I mean—Mark and Elizabeth Clare Prophet’s group. Julie used to be on staff with CUT, too.”

  “Wow,” Abraham said, shaking his head in confusion. “And I thought the Kabbalah was confusing.” Kate gave his arm a sympathetic squeeze. “So all of these different groups you are mentioning represent different religions, right?” Abraham asked.

  All the group violently shook their heads, raised their hands in disagreement, and so on. Speaking first, Rachele said, “Definitely not; although they organize into different societies and such, which allows them to publish and promote their individual teachings and particular emphases, they are absolutely not a system of hierarchy, beliefs and dogma the way that religions such as Buddhism, Islam, Christianity—and Judaism, for that matter—are. The teachings from the Ascended Masters are the truths that underlay all religions, which are like the different colors of a prism.”

  “Actually, the Liberal Catholic Church that was founded by James Ingall Wedgwood and Charles Leadbeater definitely is a ‘religion,’” Marcus added. “They even claim to have ‘apostolic succession.’”

  “The Liberal Catholic Church isn’t part of the Theosophical Society,” Kate countered. “They’re independent, even though most of their founders and early members were Theosophists. But for most Theosophists like myself, they’re too ‘Christian’ and ‘churchy’ for our tastes.” Quickly, she added, “Not that we have any particular opposition to Christianity; on the contrary, Theosophists think that there is a ‘hidden’ side to Christianity—that most people miss—that is absolutely consistent with Theosophy.”

  “So anyway,” Stephen said to Jobran and Abraham, “As you can see, we have hugely different ideas within our group about Theosophy, Anthroposophy, and just about everything else. Some people—like Marcus—think that Anthroposophy is the high water mark of all metaphysics. Other people—like Rachele—think of it as practically a heresy, that Steiner came up with because he resented the Eastern and Buddhist orientation of Theosophy, and wanted something more Western and ‘Christian.’ Whereas others—like myself—view it as being part of a continuing tradition of teaching, which is still going on in the present time.”

  Marcus interrupted, to say, “Which is why Stephen wants us to pick as this week’s choice something very recent that is supposedly by St. Germain, El Morya, Serapis Bey, or Kuthumi—whose writing styles are suspiciously similar to each other, not to mention exactly like those of Mark and Elizabeth Prophet.”

  A little testily, Stephen said to Marcus, “I keep telling you, all teachings of the Ascended Masters sound similar, because they all have the same level of realization, and thus are all teaching the same truths.” He laughed, and said to Jobran and Abraham, “That just shows you the difference between going to a Montessori school, as I did, and going to a Waldorf School—we Montessori people are much open-minded.”

  “You keep using that term, ‘Ascended Masters.’ What do you mean by that?” Jobran asked.

  Smiling, Stephen said in an expansive tone, “The Ascended Mas
ters are exalted beings who have balanced their karma over numerous embodiments, and have transcended time and space, and are now available to share their wisdom with us. Jesus is one such Ascended Master, as is Buddha; Krishna; Confucius; Pythagoras, and many others, including El Morya, Kuthumi—or Koot Hoomi, as Madame Blavatsky called him—and especially St. Germain. The Ascended Masters comprise the Great White Brotherhood; that is, the company of saints who remain to share divine love and wisdom with those of us who remain in the Earthly sphere.” To Abraham, he added in an apologetic tone, “The term ‘Great White Brotherhood’ has nothing to do with race, by the way; it just refers to the divine light that surrounds these exalted beings, in their heavenly realm. El Morya was of Middle Eastern descent, for example, and Buddha was East Indian.”

  “That’s reassuring,” Abraham said, keeping a straight face.

  Rachele said, “But the main thing that all of these societies have in common— and that is the thing that allows us to all keep meeting together, despite our obvious differences—is that they all represent the esoteric tradition of religion and spirituality.” The group nodded and murmured its agreement. “Jesus, for example, had his public, or exoteric ministry—where he talked in parables, gave the Sermon on the Mount, argued with the Pharisees, and so on—but he also had his esoteric teachings, that were only given to the ‘inner circle.’ Some of these you can find in the Gospel of John, but mostly they’re found in the texts that the Christian Church suppressed, such as the Gospel of Thomas, and the Gnostic texts that were found at Nag Hammadi in Egypt. Most religions have this kind of distinction: Buddhism has something similar with its distinction between the Hinayana or ‘Lesser Vehicle’ teachings, and the ‘Greater Vehicle’ teachings of the Mahayana and Vajrayana schools; Islam has the mystical Sufi tradition. Judaism, in the same way, has its hidden teachings in the Kabbalah and the Zohar.”