Q&A: A serious question for aabout pagan history…?

The Secret Doctrine

Perhaps the strangest aspect of this mystery surrounding the Grail, and the various secret societies dedicated to its service, is the vast abundance of so much symbolism which seems to have no apparent connection to Christianity whatsoever. This has lead to speculation that the Grail tradition might have something to do with a secret teaching of Christ, or perhaps constitutes and even more ancient hidden gnosis. Such supposition seems highly probable, given the fact that Christ was a descendant of King Solomon, considered by occultists to be one of the greatest sorcerers of all time. Furthermore, it is indeed true that much of Judaic and Christian doctrine has roots in what can only be called occult theology. To examine this notion fully, we must look into the earliest traditions from which both Judaism and Christianity emerged. And of the two, it is perhaps Christianity whose historical roots are most at odds with the prevailing theological orthodoxy of modern Judeo-Christian dogma. In fact, the things that Christians once believed would today be considered nothing short of heretical, and the things that Christians now believe still seem, when closely examined, to be bordering on the pagan. If the majority of practicing Christians new more about their religion and its history, the church theologians would find themselves in a difficult catch twenty-two: How can they say that Christianity is against paganism and occultism when Christianity itself is derived from them?

The Cult of Christ

If you were to tell a stranger that you belong to a religious movement whose adherents believed in demons, the raising of the dead, or the invoking of entities to alter worldly events in accordance with one’s own will, they might logically suspect that you were a member of a Satanic cult. And if you further told that person that your faith practiced rituals patterned on the idea of drinking blood and consuming human flesh, they’d no doubt feel certain that such was the case. Yet all of the ideas just mentioned are precepts fundamental to orthodox Christianity. Beliefs that would seem utterly bizarre or inherently occult in any other context are, for mainstream Christianity, simple articles of faith. Even so simple an act as prayer has roots in ancient occult practice and belief. There was a time in which it was thought that there were hierarchies of angels and demons whose aid and assistance could be enlisted by mortal men. Each particular angel or demon was seen to govern some specific aspect of human existence, and by making entreaties to the correct entity, man could achieve his desires. To invoke a demon, one had only to speak his name aloud, say the right words, and command him to do one’s bidding.

In the Catholic church, the legions of angels and devils have been replaced by saints, but the process involved is essentially identical. Each saint is said to hold dominion over some aspect of daily life, and by offering prayers to them one can receive blessings covering everything from safe travel to baking bread. While asking for blessings obviously seems far more benign than the act of invoking a demon, both practices are rooted in the magical thinking of the far-distant past, and represent different aspects of the same fundamental world-view. In passing, it’s worth noting that the Catholic church is the last Christian institution which still embraces the concept of the malediction, or in common parlance, the curse. While it is well-known that the early church consciously co-opted certain aspects of paganism (including pre-Christian holy days), Christianity is so rife with occult concepts that it is difficult not to imagine them as vestiges of ideas that must have been central to the creed from the very start. After all, some of the most illustrious biblical patriarchs, such as Abraham, Solomon, and Moses, were men said to traffic in the black arts. In the time of Christ it was widely believed by both his enemies and his supporters that he too was a sorcerer.

Though the foregoing statement will undoubtedly seem blasphemous to true believers, there is ample evidence in historical sources which indicates that this perception of Christ was not an uncommon one in his own day. Such evidence is explored in-depth in Morton Smith’s landmark book Jesus the Magician. In this book, Smith documents how popular opinion at the time posited that Christ’s miraculous powers were the result of the fact that he “had a demon.” This could mean either that he was possessed by a demon, or exercised control over one. Many believed that John the Baptist had a demon too, and that at the time of his beheading, control of the demon passed from John to Christ. Strangely, for many at the time, the notion that Christ was possessed by a demon didn’t seem at all inconsistent with their perception of him as “divinely inspired.” It is said that many faithful Jews at the time even included the names of demons alongside those of biblical patriarchs when saying their prayers. Examples of this can also be found in some ancient magical incantations, such as this quote from the Papyri Graecae Magicae:

“…Lord of life, King of the heavens and the earth, and all those that dwell therein, whose righteousness has not been turned aside… who has irrefutable truth, whose name and spirit [rest] upon good men, come unto my mind and my vitals for all the time of my life and accomplish for me all the desires of my soul. For you are I and I am you. Whatever I say must happen… for I have taken to myself the power of Abraham, Isaac and Jacob, and of the great god-demon Iao Ablanathanalba.”

While most of Christ’s early followers didn’t seem to view his status as a magician as any sort of stumbling-block, his opponents used it to discredit him, saying he was a charlatan, a mere sorcerer. After all, the Holy Land of that day had no shortage of would-be messiahs, false prophets and sorcerers. Many of these people were probably charlatans, but by and large the designation of “magician” was by no means synonymous with charlatanism. In fact, according to Morton Smith:

“In Jewish priestly circles of the first century like those of Josephus, to be thought a magician was not necessarily discreditable, and in other Jewish circles it might be taken as a messianic trait.”

Evidently, in Christ’s own lifetime (and the years immediately following), his status as a magician was seen as a messianic trait. As the centuries passed, his powers came to be seen as divinely ordained rather than demonic, and by the fourth century his transition from magician to messiah was complete. In the intervening years however, there was a strange interim period in which the occult tradition of Christ became indistinguishably blurred into what would eventually emerge as Orthodox Christianity. In some cases the occult aspects were subtly present, in others widely overt. In the most pronounced cases, Jesus himself was invoked as a demon, or alternately, as a king of demons, whose blessing would confer power over other demons. In a lead curse tablet from first or second century Greece, the goddesses Persephone, Hecate, and Selene are conjured in the name of Jesus to curse an enemy’s “body, spirit, soul, mind, thought, sensation, life, heart.” Another such tablet, from Carthage, reads:

“I conjure you, whoever you are, daemon of the dead, by the god who created the earth and heaven… I conjure you by the god who has authority over the subterranean regions, Neicharoplex… by … holy Hermes … Iao …. Sabaoth … the god of Solomon, Souarmimooth … the god having authority over this hour in which I conjure you, Jesus.”

Interestingly, the gods mentioned herein seem to be viewed as co-equal, with the ruler of the underworld being called upon in the same breath as he who created the Earth and heavens. In this context, Jesus (the “demon of the dead”), although being conjured, seems to be an intermediary between man and the gods. The fact that there is a plurality of gods whose power is being invoked here is significant, insofar as it demonstrates that the figure of Christ was indeed viewed at one point as the new evangel of a far more ancient tradition. For some he was an prophet who, in the manner of earlier deified kings, joined the ranks of the gods upon passing from His earthly life. For others, he was a conjurer of demons who became a demon. Though he would ultimately be viewed as the son of the one true God, author Morton Smith asserts that in the centuries leading up to that time, “there is no question that Jesus’ name continued to be used in magic as that of a supernatural power by whose authority demons might be conjured.”

There is ample evidence in the Old Testament, alternative traditions and Rabbinic lore that the notion of Christ as a magician or conjurer of demons is no mere misconception or misinterpretation. In fact, it seems to constitute a family heritage of sorts. The patriarch Abraham was said to be well-versed in “the black arts”, and traveled extensively, sharing his knowledge with priests and kings of other lands. In Rabbinic lore it was recorded that Solomon conjured the demon Asmodeus to build his mighty temple. And Solomon was also said to have been the author of an influential grimoire, The Key of Solomon, which was revered by occultists as a text of monumental importance for many centuries. Clearly, there are firmly-established traditions in which these patriarchs are remembered as occultists and magicians.

Though to modern sensibilities, much of this seems utterly incomprehensible, these ideas may have originally been viewed in an altogether different light than they are today. For instance, it is widely thought that the word “demon” merely meant “spirit”, and was initially devoid of any connotation denoting evil entities. The Socratic use of the term “daemonic” simply referred to a power beyond that of humans. Much of early religion was based upon a form of ancestor worship. Many ancient kings both worshipped their deified forebears, and presented themselves as being their living embodiments – possessed by their very spirit. Invoking the names of demons/spirits may have merely been a form of such ancestor worship. A good many demonic names, when translated according to predominant ancient tongues, bear a remarkable resemblance to many titles used for kings in the ancient world. For instance, Asmodeus can be translated as “the Lord God”, and Azazel can be translated as “Lord, son of God.” If the invocation of so-called demonic names was an esoteric tradition, known and understood by only a small number of initiates, it’s plain to see how it could easily have been misunderstood or misinterpreted by outsiders. We have already described the use of the names of biblical patriarchs in demonic conjuration, which may be another indication that ancestor worship played a part in the process. But that is just speculation. When all is said and done, the most we can definitively say is that these people believed there were forces exterior to man which could be entreated to conform to his will. As previously mentioned, this view differs little from that of any man who lights a candle and utters a prayer, or invokes the name of a saint in hopes of securing blessings.

Those with an anti-Christian bias point to the fact that there were upwards of a dozen crucified messiahs in world mythology whose stories closely resembled that of Christ, claiming this constitutes “proof” that Jesus never existed. After all, they argue, mythology is full of dying and resurrected gods such as Tammuz, Dumuzi, and others. The fact that Christ’s story shares similar elements must mean that it too is merely another myth. Of course, such an argument doesn’t prove anything of the sort. What it does tend to indicate, it seems, is that Christ was part of a long-standing tradition – a tradition whose tenets are often preserved in myth and symbol.

The traditions from which Christianity is derived date back to a time when the symbolism of religious iconography was widely recognized and understood. Although much of this same iconography later played a central role in Christianity, the original meanings have long since been forgotten. Take, for example, the cross, the foremost symbol of Christianity. Ask most Christians its meaning, and they are likely to tell you that it is an emblem of their faith because Christ died on the cross. Such an idea seems fairly straightforward, since as often as not, when one sees a cross, it is in the form of a crucifix, bearing the image of a crucified Christ. Thus, the conception of the cross as being synonymous with the death of Christ has come to be firmly established in the popular consciousness. In fact, however, the cross was one of the primary religious symbols in many ancient cultures for millennia before the advent of Christ. In both the East and the West, the cross can be traced to the remotest antiquity. Some claim that the origin of the cross lies in the earliest practice of solar religion. At dawn, salutations were given to the Sun as God the Father reborn. People would face the Sun as it rose on the eastern horizon, embracing it ritualistically by extending their arms straight out at their sides. They would then turn away from the Sun and, maintaining the same posture, gaze toward that point on the western horizon where the dying Sun would “sink into the Abyss” later that evening. While looking westward in this manner, the rising Sun cast a long shadow of their body that gave a cross-like appearance. So it was that the cross became a symbol of the Sun as a dying and resurrected god. The later meanings attributed to the cross by orthodox Christianity are but a continuation of the theme of death and resurrection – a theme whose roots go back to the dawn of recorded history.

The single institution in which the overlap of Christian and pre-Christian ideas can be seen most explicitly is without a doubt Roman Catholicism. The emerging Church of Rome absorbed a great many of the rites and ideas that had dominated Roman religion and politics in the centuries prior to the birth of Christ. Much of this had come to Rome by way of Babylon, Sumer and Persia. The idea that the emperor was a living incarnation of god was rooted in the most ancient examples of religion in Sumer and Egypt. During the period in which the caesars were looked upon as gods, the role of emperor was also to serve as high priest in the Mithraic mysteries, which were then the state religion. His title in this capacity was Pontifex Maximus. Later, as papal authority accrued, the Church of Rome would lay claim to the title Pontifex Maximus as a designation for the Pope. In time Catholicism elaborated a policy which presented the Pope as having a role analogous to that of Christ, representing “the voice of God on Earth.” Such a notion is more in keeping with the ideas that defined pagan Rome than with anything to be found in the Bible. Non-Catholic Christians deemed the idea blasphemous, and harsher critics went so far as to label the Pope an agent of the Devil.

The emblem of papal authority, a logo comprised of two crossed keys surmounted by a crown, also has its roots in pre-Christian religion. The gods and goddesses associated with the mysteries (such as Janus and Diana) were often depicted holding keys. It is altogether probable that early non-Christians who saw this iconography in the context of the new religion may have drawn the conclusion that the Pope was an initiate of the mystery schools, or that he was a living inheritor of the knowledge of the gods. Later, as the intrinsically pagan symbolism of the keys faded from public memory, the Church began to assert that the keys represented the “keys to Heaven” given to the apostle Peter by Christ. Peter, they said, traveled to Rome and became the first Pope. Subsequently, the metaphorical keys have been passed down to each successive Pope. This is the version of things that has been accepted as official Catholic doctrine, although prior to the first half of the fifth century there had been no mention of St. Peter as the first Pope, or of the keys to Heaven.

The distinctive clothing of the Catholic priesthood for many centuries involved the wearing of a garment that looked rather like a dress. The adoption of this style of clothing may have its genesis in the cult of Attis and Cybele, which originated in Greece in 500 BC, and remained a strong presence in Rome until around 400 A.D. The central myth of the sect stated that Attis had stood beneath a sacred pine tree and castrated himself as an offering to Cybele. This legend served as the basis of yearly rites held in Spring, in which “priests wearing effeminate costumes” would castrate themselves, burying the knives and severed members in the earth as a “blood sacrifice to the goddess.” Such rites may have been the source of the practice of celibacy in the Catholic priesthood. Most religions have no policy demanding celibacy from their priests, and there seems to be no basis in any Christian literature for the adoption of such a practice. Although there is nothing to indicate that Catholics have participated in ritual castration akin to the goddess cult, there is however a curious quote from The Book of Matthew in which the author refers to priests as “eunuchs of the Kingdom of Heaven.”

The black color of Catholic priestly garb can be traced to Babylon, where the priesthood of Baal were famous for having dressed in black. Babylon exerted a powerful influence on the religious thought of Rome, and another rite central to Roman Catholicism may also have its roots in the priests of Baal. Undoubtedly the most bizarre ritual of the Roman Church is that of Communion – the symbolic consumption of the flesh and blood of Christ. Even as a purely symbolic act, the ceremony’s connotations are barbaric, and seem to have more in common with occultism than Christian doctrine. It is said by some that in certain Babylonian rites, a human sacrifice was required, and that the victim’s flesh and blood was then consumed by participants in the ritual. If such accounts can be taken seriously, this might have served as the basis of the later (purely symbolic) practice of Communion. Though some scholars dismiss the claims of Babylonian sacrifice, it is interesting to note that our modern word for consuming human flesh, “cannibalism”, is rooted in the Babylonian words “kahane baal” (“priest of Baal”).

In a number of ancient cultures, it is said that each year a young man was chosen to act as a living incarnation of one of their gods. He would reside in the temple dedicated to that god, and lead a kingly existence, with no luxury denied him. At the end of a year’s time, however, he would be offered as a sacrifice. Being selected for this role was evidently the highest possible honor, both for the sacrificial victim and his family. When the sacrifice was completed, the man’s flesh would be eaten, evidently as a means of achieving communion with the deity he symbolized. Assuming that this rite may have been associated with the purported human sacrifice and cannibalism said to have been practiced in Babylon, the additional symbolic content of consuming the dead god’s flesh would complete the similarity between the ritual practiced by the Babylonians and the Communion of Catholicism. Though such ideas are not at all in keeping with what we imagine we know about early Christianity, there is perhaps much that we don’t know about it. The emergence of Christianity in pagan Rome was a phenomenon viewed with suspicion and fear. Christians were seen as a dangerous, subversive foreign sect. Their doctrine was seen as seditious, because it denied the emperor’s divinity, and recognized his authority as being second to that of Christ. Chroniclers writing at the time tell us that the Christians were an ungodly sect who held bizarre rituals beneath a full moon. The rituals were said to have climaxed in an orgiastic frenzy which sometimes involved human sacrifice. Ironically, the very charges leveled against the early Christians by pagan Rome are nearly identical to those later leveled against heretics by papal Rome. And very similar charges were later made against the Jews in medieval Europe. Most serious students of history dismiss all such charges as fabrications – libelous falsehoods intended to demonize any group who fails to conform to the prevailing orthodoxy. Although such an explanation seems immanently rational, and in keeping with human nature, it is hard to deny that much of early religion involved practices that would today be deemed savage: intoxicated frenzy, orgiastic excess, and sacrifice (both animal and human). Though the early Christians may be entirely innocent of the charges made against them, it is not inconceivable that such practices may have been indulged in by organized groups keeping alive strange traditions from antiquity.

Much of the symbolism of the Church of Rome is derived from the old solar religions, coming by way of Egypt, Sumer, and (yet again) Babylon. It is a popular misconception that solar religion equates with mere “sun worship”, and is the most primitive of superstitions. In fact, the earliest forms of solar religion evince a high level of symbolic purity and sophistication, which seems to have steadily decreased with the rise of polytheism. At any rate, imagery related to the Sun can be found abundantly in Catholicism. It is perhaps most evident in the many depictions of saints. The so-called “haloes” surrounding the heads of saints are identical to the solar discs pictured around the heads of earlier gods and goddesses associated with the Sun. In some cases the solar connotation of these haloes is made even more explicit by the inclusion of a red equilateral cross within them – a sun cross. This image of a solar disc enclosing an equilateral cross is a very ancient sun symbol, and can be seen on the king seals of many Sumerian rulers. These deified kings were seen as being suns of God, and some bore the title “Son of the Sun.” Consequently, they are often pictured in close proximity to this solar icon, as a sign of their divine authority. Therefore the single idea most central to Christianity, that of a man being the son of God, had its origin in the ancient royal concept of the Sun as the father of kings.

For a great many years, Roman priests sported a distinctive hairstyle known as the Roman tonsure. It was defined by a round circle shaved atop the priest’s head toward the back, with a fringe of hair cut to a uniform length surrounding it. The style would eventually be adopted by other religious orders, but its association with Catholicism is the reason it remains known as the “Roman” tonsure. It was a style, however, that was worn for centuries prior to the formation of the Catholic church by priests of the solar religion. The symbolism of the hairstyle was intended to denote the priest as a servant of the sun god. The shaved circle is said to represent the solar disc, and the fringe of hair around it was meant to mimic the Sun’s aureole. Though this tonsure may have been worn by priests of numerous solar sects, it would have been best known to Romans as the style associated with the priesthood of Mithra. At some point the Roman tonsure was evidently phased out. However, high-ranking members of the Roman church often still wear small yarmulke-like hats which occupy the same spot on their heads as once did the circle of shaved hair.

One of the most long-standing tenets of Judeo-Christianity is its taboo against the use of graven images. This dates back to an age in which other religions made statues of their gods, and many people worshipping such idols perceived them to be actual incarnations of the gods they were meant to represent. It is said that the father of Abraham made his livelihood creating likenesses of the gods of other cultures, such as Baal, Dagon, Astarte, and so on. One day Abraham took one of these idols and smashed it, then stated that it could not possibly be a god, or it could not have been so easily destroyed. This single event seems to have signaled the beginning of the prohibition against idolatry and the graven image. The most extreme example of this prohibition can be seen in the iconoclasts of Constantinople. The original meaning of “iconoclast” is “destroyer of images”, and this fanatical sect took holy writ very literally. They insisted that no statue, painting or depiction of any sort should be allowed to exist portraying divinities, patriarchs, saints, the Madonna, etc., on the grounds that they constituted forbidden graven images. Consequently, churches were sacked, statues demolished, and paintings burned. The great churches of Constantinople must have looked very boring as a result.

In contrast, the Church of Rome seems to have embraced the pre-Christian fondness for statues. Cathedrals in the eternal city abound with statues, paintings, and holy relics, all of which have become the object of veneration over the centuries. In St. Peter’s Basilica, visitors actually kneel before the statues of saints, often kissing their feet or hands. Quite often early Catholic churches were established in buildings which had long been pagan temples, and the same statues of gods worshipped in pagan times were simply repainted and re-christened as Catholic saints. As often as not, the saint names given to the statues were nearly identical to those of the previous gods. This is commented on in Babylon Mystery Religion by Ralph Woodrow, where he states:

“The goddess Victoria of the Basse-Alpes was renamed as St. Victoire, Cheron as St. Ceranos, Artemis as St. Artemedos, Dionysos as St. Dionysis, etc. The goddess Brighit (regarded as the daughter of the sun-god and represented with a child in her arms) was smoothly renamed as St. Bridget. In pagan days her chief temple at Kildare was served by vestal virgins who tended the sacred fires. Later her temple became a convent and her vestals, nuns. They continued to tend the ritual fire, only now it was called ‘St. Bridget’s fire.’”

The practice of using pre-existing pagan idols as Catholic icons was so widespread, it is virtually impossible to ascertain how many of these early statues date back to the pre-Christian era. It is particularly difficult in regards to one of the most well-known of Catholic icons: that of the Madonna and child. This image, depicting the goddess holding the Holy Child, was central to pre-Christian religion for millennia prior to Christianity. In Egypt, the mother and child were Isis and Horus; in Babylon, Semiramis and Tammuz. India and China likewise had their equivalents. This image of the sacred mother and her divine child goes back to an age in which worship of the “Divine couple” was still the order of the day. The king and queen were worshipped as earthly incarnations of the father god and mother goddess, while their son, the future king, was seen as having been born of the company of Heaven. Although the details differ significantly, this is precisely Christ’s implied legacy, that of a king, and of a son of God – or, moreover, a son of the Divine couple, if the “Holy Spirit” portion of the Catholic Trinity is to be thought of as female.

The Primordial Duad

This notion of the divine couple is one of the most ancient concepts in religion. In Sumeria, it appears as part of perhaps the earliest notion of Trinity. God the Father was symbolized as the Sun, his consort was symbolized alternately as either the Moon or the Earth, and the king was viewed as their offspring: the Son of the Sun; a living representative (or emanation) of God on Earth. A similar idea can be seen in Egypt, where the Pharaoh was viewed as a living incarnation of Horus, son of the divine couple Isis and Osiris. The Pharaoh was seen both as a god, and as a mediator between the earthly and the divine. It was said that when he died, he ascended to the heavens and became Osiris (essentially returning to the source with whom he had always been synonymous in the minds of the Egyptians.)

In many traditions the gods and goddesses who comprise the divine couple are not seen as being separate or distinct entities, but rather as differing aspects of one another, or even emanations of one another. In this we see traces of an even more ancient tradition: God as the primordial androgyne. Such a notion has been part of many theologies, although the idea has largely been forgotten or (perhaps) ignored. Traces of it can even be found in Judeo-Christianity. For instance, we are told that the name of Jehovah is comprised of Hebrew characters representing the four elements: air, fire, earth, and water. But read slightly differently, the same characters spell “He She.” And the word Elohim, usually translated as “gods”, or “the angels”, is actually a composite of “Eloh”, the feminine plural of “god”, and “Im”, the masculine plural of “god.” Even straightforwardly Christian sources concede that this is no doubt indicative of the belief, anciently held, that God was primordially possessed of both sexes. This idea has been central to certain occult traditions, and experienced a kind of revival in the 19th century, influencing the Hermetic Brotherhood of Luxor and the Hermetic Order of the Golden Dawn. It developed into the doctrine that the entirety of creation flows from the differentiation of the unmanifested divine into male and female. To those who followed this doctrine, the reunification of the divine duad represented the means of achieving union with God.

In ancient cultures, the sundered aspects of this duad were seen symbolically as being the heavens and the Earth; the heavens representing God the Father, and Earth representing the Earth Mother. Together the two embodied the most fundamental notion of generative power. In Mesopotamia it was said that there was a time at which the heavens and the Earth were one. This primordial oneness, called Anki, gave birth to a son: Enlil. This son proceeded to cleave the heavens and the Earth apart, creating two separate entities from a primeval whole. “An” departed to rule from the heavens. “Ki” descended to earth to rule with her son Enlil. Thus we have the birth of the divine couple, in an early creation myth that chronicles the original state of union from which the two emerged.

In a related story, the god Marduk is said to have created the heavens and the Earth by killing Tiamat, the goddess representing the primeval waters. He cut her corpse in half, and one part became the heavens, the other the Earth. Her eyes became the Tigris and Euphrates rivers that bordered Babylon. Though the story dates from a later period than the Anki tale, and the symbolism is less straightforward, it nonetheless demonstrates that even at this latter date, the idea that Heaven and Earth constituted a primordial unity was still in currency. And although many other creation myths involving a divine couple seem to hint at this, most are far less specific in their details. For instance, in Hindu mythology, Dyaus Pitar (God the Father) and Prthivi were the primordial couple who sired the Vedic pantheon of gods. They were said to have placed Heaven and Earth into “conjunction” with one another. If any original cleaving asunder took place, it seems to have eluded mention.

In other myths involving the divine couple, their separation seems to be conveyed symbolically by the act of castration. The most well-known tale in this regard must certainly be that of Isis and Osiris. In this story, Osiris is cut into pieces by the dark Set, who scatters the pieces far and wide. Isis sets about finding the pieces to sew them back together again. She finds all but one: the penis. In some versions, the penis has been thrown into the Nile and eaten by fish. Undaunted, she fashions Osiris a penis from gold, attaches it, and instantly the god is resurrected. This tale is remarkable in that, unlike the early myths, it represents not the separation of the divine couple, but the notion of their reunification. The well-known obelisks of ancient Egypt are said alternately to represent the penis of Osiris, or the needle of Isis. Either interpretation carries essentially the same symbolic meaning. In sewing together the pieces of Osiris, Isis is making him whole once more. The penis she fashions represents the point of union between the divine couple, and thence comes its symbolic significance to the ancients. So the elements of the story, taken as a whole, can be seen as representing the power of the female element to restore the power of God by restoring the primal equilibrium of the divine couple, reestablishing the union of the two.

Other instances of divine castrations abound in the early creation myths, yet none manage to recapture the simple eloquence and symbolic purport of the tale of Isis and Osiris. But another example of castration dating from the Middle Ages is of particular interest to us insofar as it has become associated with the saga of the Holy Grail. I’m speaking, of course, about the story of Parcival and the Fisher King. The story, in a nutshell, is as follows. The Fisher King lies dying of a wound that never heals. Some versions of the Grail romance are vague as to the nature of the wound, but at least one is very specific indeed. In a bizarre accident, the king has lost his genitals. The sword he was wielding broke in two, slicing away his penis. It is said that the area between his legs is “as smooth as a woman.” The king can only be redeemed by the Grail, and so the knight Parcival embarks on a quest in search of it. But before Parcival can hope to win the Grail, he must procure a weapon to take along on his mystical journey. Taking the shattered pieces of the king’s sword, he melts them down, forges the weapon anew, and sets off on his quest.

This is all very interesting. The sword in question is no ordinary one, but a weapon possessed of legendary powers. It is said that it ordains victory and absolute power – but only to those destined to wield it. To all others, it ordains ruin. The very fact that it shattered in the hands of the Fisher King seems to indicate that he wasn’t its rightful possessor. The wound of the Fisher King is also very telling. The loss of his manhood indicates that he existed in a decadent, emasculated state. This in and of itself certainly seems to constitute a “wound that never heals.”

The symbolism attendant to the figure of Parcival is every bit as telling. To win the Grail he must first re-forge the mythic sword, and make it whole again. This weapon obviously represents some primordial archetypal power – one both creative and destructive. It’s breaking in two was the basis of tragedy and ruin; it’s reunification, the basis of attaining the Grail. With its shattering, the king was both emasculated and doomed. With its restoration, Parcival won his quest and married the bearer of the Grail.

The symbolism inherent in this story could hardly be more straightforward. The missing penis, besides representing the obvious loss of manhood, is emblematic (as in the case of Osiris) of the cleaving apart of the two most basic forces, as signified by their two most primary manifestations: male and female. The king is useless without the ability to become conjoined to the queen and produce an heir to the throne.

Another revealing aspect of the tale is that en route on his quest (and in order to attain it), Parcival must curse and reject God. He can only attain the Grail by becoming like unto God. This indicates that the very notion of God has become, for him (the truest of heroes), a hindrance that must be overcome before winning the Grail is possible.

Is the figure of Parcival meant to be a Templar Knight? Is he a true servant of God, who, in the course of his service to the supreme deity, must reject organized religion? Perhaps. And what of the Fisher King? Does he represent the orthodoxy of the Church, an established authority, possessed of a throne and attempting to wield a supreme power, but hopelessly incapable of doing so? Maybe. Parcival certainly seems to be everything the king is not. He is possessed of the capability of getting the Grail, marrying the Grail bearer, and not only wielding the legendary sword, but of forging it anew. All of this would seem to indicate that the mystery of the Grail encompasses far more than the mere object to which the name is attached. The very quest itself is a part of the process of redemption/transformation. And since the attainment of the Grail seems to be associated with marrying the bearer of the Grail, we posit that this symbolic union is more probably the goal of the Grail quest. The mere object is simply emblematic of it. In other words, the true significance of this tale lies in the coming together of the archetypal male and female in a reflection of the original sacred idea: the divine couple. This hypothesis seems to be borne out by the fact that when all of this is accomplished, the Fisher King’s “redemption” is that he dies, and Parcival succeeds him.

Many of the elements central to the saga of the Grail bloodline could also be explained in terms of the divine couple and the principle they signified. For instance, the Knights Templar were intrinsically linked to Solomon’s Temple, with its cabalistic pillars of Jachin and Boaz. Occultists tell us that these pillars represented the dual qualities of mildness and severity. One of the pillars was gold, the other green. It seems likely that the royal colors of the Merovingians, gold and green, refer symbolically to the principle embodied by the pillars of Solomon’s Temple. Taking that notion to its logical conclusion, it would follow that the use of gold and green in both cases also signifies the divine couple. Gold, in the ancient world, was always used to symbolize the Sun: God the Father. And green would seem the logical color to symbolize the consort of God in her role as Earth Mother. The roles of god and goddess in ancient cultures seem to have been patterned after the classic parental model. God the Father was severe, distant, and aloof. His consort was far more approachable, and in many ways was seen as a mediator between God and Man. It is thought that except in rare or extreme cases, few people petitioned God directly in those times. Rather, they appealed to the female deity to intercede on their behalf, just as any child knows its mother will naturally be more sensitive to its desires, while the father has a tendency to be unyielding and authoritarian. It is speculated that this is the reason why relatively few statues remain depicting father gods, while statues of goddesses abound.

Viewed in this context, one of the prime mysteries of the Grail legend seems more readily comprehensible: the phenomenon of the Black Madonnas. Statues of the Black Madonna appear in churches throughout France (particularly in the Languedoc), and have long been associated with Mary Magdalen. But the question that has always perplexed observers is: “What could these enigmatic figures possibly mean?” Heretofore, the answer to this question has been elusive. Most of the hypotheses offered have seemed to be either baseless speculation, wishful thinking, or a combination of the two. Some have pointed to the obvious similarities between the Black Madonnas and Kali, the Hindu goddess of destruction. However, the “obvious similarities” cited are perhaps the most superficial qualities they share: both are female and both are black. The characteristics that define the fundamental nature of each (one is a nurturing mother, the other a crazed destroyer bedecked in a garland of severed heads) would seem to indicate that their respective dissimilarities far outweigh any shared attributes.

Some authors have asserted that both Mary Magdalen and the Black Madonnas are “linked to pagan goddess worship.” This conclusion seems to possess even less inner logic than the Kali hypothesis, and fails to explain why the symbolism unique to the Black Madonna phenomenon could be seen to indicate such a notion. The most straightforward explanation for the symbolism of the color black is the most common meaning associated with it in the occult: matter. To the ancients matter was synonymous with the world, the flesh, and the Devil. Consequently, the figure of the Madonna (a mother) symbolized as matter1, can easily be seen to equate with some of the most ancient notions previously discussed concerning the female aspect of the divine couple. At that point in history when Black Madonnas came into prominence, heresies were dealt with severely, and the idea that God had a consort would have been wildly heretical. Therefore, the Black Madonnas were a coded means of keeping alive one of the most primordial notions of deity, an ancient secret hidden in plain sight. Their outward form was, in all respects but one, deceptively orthodox-seeming. Their unusual coloring was just perplexing enough to confuse those who didn’t understand, while not being so odd as to generate too much suspicion. Yet the Black Madonnas have been a source of bafflement for centuries, misunderstood by the public, the clergy, and even most occultists.

In light of what we have just explained, the symbolism of the Black Madonnas seems not only unambiguous, but really quite obvious. Such symbolism is central to occult doctrine, and is even quite prominent in orthodox religion itself. The well-known depiction of the dove descending into the Grail chalice represents nothing less, and is an image that was of central importance to both the Catholic church, and to Aleister Crowley‘s Ordo Templi Orientis. The latter’s use of such straightforwardly Christian iconography no doubt perplexed many, and indeed this was perhaps the intent. But so as to convey the precise intent of utilizing this conventional image, Crowley placed it inside of an oval shape, the arc of which came to points at both the top and the bottom. Were one to follow the path of the arcs comprising each side of this shape, you would find that each formed a perfect circle, and that the shape employed by Crowley represented the point at which these circles overlapped. This is a well-known occult symbol, the “vesica picses”, and the circles are said to represent the corporeal world and the non-corporeal world, or spirit and matter. Therefore, the point at which the two intersect would be emblematic of precisely the same thing as the image placed within this geometric shape: the symbolic union of Heaven and Earth, spirit and matter, masculinity and femininity.

We see the very same image of the overlapping circles on a sacred well in England, in a place called Glastonbury said to have been visited by Christ and Joseph of Arimathea. It is called Chalice Well, and it is covered by a large slab of stone decorated with metalwork forming the intersecting circles. Even Christian commentators assert that the circles signify the point of union between “the visible realm and the invisible realm.” Yet here an additional element has been added. The two circles are pierced by what has been said to be a “bleeding lance”, a symbol well-known from the Grail legends. Some speculate that this lance, said to be symbolically linked with the Spear of Longinus that pierced the side of Christ, was perhaps emblematic of death and resurrection. Being the instrument of Christ’s destruction, it was therefore a key element of his resurrection. This may be at least partially true, yet seems unsatisfactory as a complete explanation. Viewed in conjunction with the two circles, the lance seems to assume a deeper level of meaning. Here it intersects and conjoins the dual worlds represented: spirit and matter, Heaven and Earth, etc. Once again, we seem to see an echo of the same elemental idea already familiar to us. Seen in conjunction with the intersecting circles, the lance serves to emphasize and reinforce the symbolism already implicit in the configuration, in much the same way that Crowley’s use of the odd geometric shape around the chalice and dove was a coded reiteration of the same theme.

Finally, another context in which we see the unusual shape defined by the intersection of two circles is perhaps one of the most mainstream icons of Christianity. Turn this shape on its side, extend briefly the lines indicated by the arcs on one end, and we have the well-known fish emblem used by Christians since the earliest days. This emblem is known as the ichthys, which means “fish” in Greek, and the word “ichthys” is comprised of the first letters (in Greek) of the phrase “Jesus Christ – God – Son – Savior.” This all seems to beg the obvious question: “Why would Jesus Christ be identified with a fish?” This fish represents much of what the shape which defines it has already been shown to identify: the intersection of two realms. As a denizen of the waters, it signifies the sea, and all that the sea in turn symbolizes. For the ancients, the waters represented an intermediary point between spirit and matter. Above them loomed the heaven, below them the Earth. Hans Jonas, in his Gnostic Religion, tells us, “sea or waters is a standing Gnostic symbol for the world of matter, or of darkness into which the divine has sunk.” So once again we see the very same idea associated with the very same shape. This shape turns up repeatedly in medieval religious paintings. There is a painting of Sophia (much associated with the Black Madonnas) framed within this odd oval emblem. It would appear that a good many artists were schooled in occult theology, and like the troubadours, used their craft as a means of keeping alive a secret tradition.

Perhaps the penultimate divine couple was Ia and Inana, reputedly the primordial parents from which all the early Sumerian deified kings were thought to be descendants. Inana is thought to be the prototype of most of the major goddess figures in world mythology, such as Isis, Ishtar, Astarte, Diana, etc. And in examining Inana, we find the basis of much of the unusual symbolism identified with Mary Magdalen – symbolism seemingly inexplicable in the context of orthodox Christianity. For instance, Inana was symbolized by the rose, and by Venus, the morning star, both symbols associated with Mary Magdalen. She was worshipped at dawn as the principle which animated the whole of the natural world, and at the evening, we’re told, “she became the patron of temple prostitutes when the evening star was seen as a harlot soliciting in the night skies.”2 Here then, we find the roots of all the major symbolism attached to Mary Magdalen: the rose, the morning star, and prostitution. Christ, in his union with Mary Magdalen, was consciously trying to manipulate or revive the archetype of the divine couple. He represented spirit and the heavens, she represented matter, the flesh, and the Earth.

But the myth of Inana also incorporates elements very similar to those of Christ: a story of death and resurrection. In it, she descends to the underworld and “finds herself stripped naked and tried before seven underworld judges, the Annunaki. She is sentenced and left for dead for three days and nights before being restored at the behest of Enki.” This tale of death and resurrection after three days and nights is not an unfamiliar one, and echoes of it can be seen in the legends of Christ, Osiris, and many others. But the story of Inana’s descent is unique because it appears to be the first telling of this archetypal tale.

The role of the temple prostitute was a highly respected one deemed sacred, and many high-born ladies took the office. The daughter of Sumerian King Sargon II was a temple prostitute, as was the daughter of King Assurbanipal. In fact, most women were taken to the temple at the age of puberty to give their virginity as an offering to the gods. Julius Evola says in The Metaphysics of Sex that:

“These ritual or religious unions of man and woman were intended to renew or celebrate the mystery of the Ternary, or union of the everlasting male with the everlasting female (sky with Earth), when should arise the central current of creation. The corresponding principles were embodied and activated, and their momentary physical union became an effective and evocative reproduction of divine union beyond time and space.”

An interesting variation on this took place in Babylon, where once a year, a virgin would ascend by night to the very apex of the seven-tiered holy ziggurat. The high holy place was a bed chamber thought to be inhabited by God himself. The virgin spent the night there, presumably being deflowered by God the Father. Says Evola, “It was also believed that the priestess of Apollo at Patara passed the night on the ‘holy bed’ in union with the god.”

Mircea Eliade, writing about the ritualistic orgies used to invoke the divine couple, said:

“The orgy corresponds generally to the holy marriage. The limitless… frenzy on Earth must correspond to the union of the divine pair. The excesses play a very precise part in the arrangement of the sacred; they sunder the barriers between man and society, nature and the gods; they help in circulating the force, life, and seeds from one level to another and from one zone of reality into all the others.”

Indeed, ceremonies such as this gave ancient man a chance to tangibly experience the sacrum, to invoke and manifest, within himself, the archetype of God by becoming, if only briefly (and symbolically) one-half of the Divine couple.

Though the gods and goddesses of the ancient cultures that we have examined may at first glance appear to have no connection to the later creeds of Judaism and Christianity, such is not the case. Even Judaism (a relative newcomer in the context of the theologies thus discussed) had its own divine couple in the persons of El and Asherah, who appear to be the Judaic equivalent of the older Babylonian Baal and Astarte. It is thought that the Jewish move towards monotheism was necessitated when the notion of the divine couple became lost, as polytheistic cultures interacted with the Jews, giving rise to an increasingly confusing proliferation of deities, both foreign and domestic. The emerging Jewish nation needed to be united into a single will if it was to survive. And in order to accomplish this task, the polytheistic miasma of gods and goddesses, of belief and counter-belief, had to be transcended. Thus began the emergence of patriarchal monotheism, with its harsh father figure, Jehovah. El and Asherah were vanquished, and in time, Asherah was even turned into a male demon, Astaroth.

Despite all of this, even in the context of patriarchal monotheism, rabbinic tradition records that even Jehovah once had a consort named Lillith. This goddess figures prominently in rabbinic lore, and is said to have left the side of God to come to Earth as Adam’s first wife. She bore Adam his first son Cain, but being of a haughty and rebellious nature, she refused to submit to Adam’s rule, eventually leaving him. Some traditions record that she went off to live at the bottom of the Red Sea with Asmodeus, the demon who plays so prominent a role in the mystery of Rennes-le-Chateau.

Be it Ia and Inana, Isis and Osiris, Odin and Freya, Zeus and Hera, Kronos and Rhea, Ouranos and Gaia, Baal and Astarte, or El and Asherah, the names may vary, but virtually every culture has had a version of the divine couple. Before the formulation of the notions of good versus evil, or God versus the Devil, man understood duality in terms of male and female, Sun and Moon, of fire and water, and the divine couple represented an equilibrium between these opposing forces; a marriage, if you will, between the two. Ancient man seems to have had a far better understanding of the schematic upon which the universe operates than does his modern counterpart. At the most elemental level, most of the so-called “secret doctrines” seem to preserve this understanding.

The Divine couple was not a duad of man and woman, but a triad. The third element was the equilibrium between the eternal male principle and the eternal female principle. And from the resultant harmony of the Ternary, we arrive at “One.” This seems to represent an idea central to the ancient understanding of the sacred, and can be glimpsed in its purest, most elemental form in a tradition undoubtedly of far greater antiquity still: the worship of the primordial hermaphrodite, and the ritualized practice of sacred sex.

Sexual Alchemy: The Union of Opposites

The roots of sacred sex are ancient. Down through the centuries it has been practiced in many lands at many times, both openly and beneath the cloak of secrecy. Chroniclers who refer to the rites of sacred sex are often vague both as to the details involved and the rationale behind it all. Most seem in agreement that the motivation behind sacred sex is an attempt to somehow achieve union with the divine, or awaken within the participants a spark of the divine. Christians, however, were almost unanimous in their appraisal of sex practiced in conjunction with unorthodox beliefs: it was the Devil’s handiwork, plain and simple.

This notwithstanding, perhaps the most interesting and compelling rationale for the evolution of sacred sex comes from within the context of Christianity itself. Christian mystics, such as Jakob Boehme, Leo the Hebrew, Scrotus Eriugena and Franz von Baader postulated a thesis based on a unique interpretation of The Book of Genesis. According to the theory, since God created man in His own image, Adam must have originally been a hermaphrodite, a creature combining the attributes of both sexes. The original Fall occurred not when Adam and Eve exited Eden, but when God robbed Adam of his original unity by creating Eve from out of him so that he would not be alone. Therefore the sexual impulse comes from an instinctual yearning in man to try and recapture his primordial condition. According to Franz von Baader: “The higher meaning of sexual love, which should not be identified with the instinct for reproduction, is nothing other than to help both man and woman to become integrated inwardly (in soul and in spirit) in the complete human or original divine image.” This notion, bizarre and eloquent at once, has recurred in varying guises, from ancient times to modern times. We see glimpses of it in ancient creeds such as the cabala and alchemy, as well as in more modern practices such as sex magick. And its wisdom was echoed in the words of Christ when he stated, “I am of the undivided”, or, “When you were one you became two. But when you are two, what will you do?” What indeed! Though none of these Christian writers ever gave detailed descriptions of the techniques one might utilize to become re-integrated in “the original divine image”, there are some hints. At least one of them mapped out a series of energy centers within the human body which man could tap into and achieve this state. Although he stopped short of indicating the means one might employ to tap these sources, his map showed striking similarities to the locations of the chakras in the Hindu Yogic tradition. It is therefore safe to assume that these early Christian mystics had some fundamental understanding of the principles underlying the practice of Tantric sex.

The word “hermaphrodite” is a conjunction of Hermes and Aphrodite, a union of the masculine and feminine aspects of God. The symbolism of the Hermaphrodite and its central significance to alchemy is well-known. Its importance to occultists in the guise of Baphomet is likewise recognized. Those familiar with Plato will recall that in his Symposium, he contended that humans were descended from a primordial race “whose essence is now extinct” – a race of hermaphrodites. The race was powerful, yet arrogant, and when they rebelled against the Gods, they were in turn cursed and split in two. According to Plato, “From such an ancient time love has goaded human beings, one toward another; it is inborn, and seeks to renew our ancient nature in an endeavor to unite in one single being two distinct beings, and therefore, to restore human nature to good health.” He added that , “… this was indeed our primitive nature when we constituted one unit which was still whole; it is really the burning longing for this unity which bears the name of love.” This is echoed in Genesis 2:24, which says, “For this reason a man will leave his father and mother to be united with his wife, and they will become one flesh.” (Emphasis added.)

Whether Plato actually believed in a de facto race of hermaphrodites or merely referred to their myth metaphorically is not important. What he cites as being the mystical genesis of love echoes the secret doctrine of esotericists from time immemorial. It is the same gnosis preserved by Hermes, said to represent the wisdom of a forgotten race of antediluvian gods. And apparently, it may well have constituted part of the secret doctrine of Christ as well.

The Gospel of Thomas was one of the Gnostic texts known as the Nag Hammadi Library, which were lost until the mid-20th century when they were discovered in Egypt. In The Gospel of Thomas, Christ teaches a doctrine very different in nature to that adopted by mainstream Christianity. Some orthodox Christians deny the validity of this gospel, while others embrace it as a very beautiful text, as important (if not more so) as any found in the New Testament. Scholars argue back and forth over whether the Nag Hammadi books were essentially Christian texts aimed at a Gnostic audience, or essentially Gnostic texts aimed at a Christian audience. A third possibility exists, especially in regard to The Gospel of Thomas: What if the contents of this are in fact closer to what Christ actually taught? Could this gospel retain some fragments of Christ’s true doctrine as it existed before it was sanitized, edited and doctored to suit the political agendas of those doing the editing? It is certainly an intriguing possibility.

The author of The Gospel of Thomas is said to be Christ’s own twin brother Thomas, and one would assume that if any of Christ’s disciples were to truly grasp his teachings, there would be no more likely a candidate than his own twin. There is much in The Gospel of Thomas that would have invoked the displeasure of the fathers of the early church, such as Christ’s admonition that He was “everywhere”, and not to look for Him “in a building.” Even had the rest of the gospel passed muster at the Council of Nicea, that line would surely have been deleted. A lot of the text is fairly straightforward, but certain passages are bizarre even by biblical standards. For example:

“Jesus said to them, When you make the two one, and when you make the inside like the outside, and the outside like the inside, and the above like the below, and when you make the female one and the same, so that the male be not male, nor the female female… then you will enter (the kingdom.)”

This is very explicit, and not the least bit Christian. It speaks of an initiatory process of Gnosis, a process that requires no churches, no holy men, and no prayers of forgiveness. It should have a familiar ring to students of the occult, for it is very similar to words contained in the Emerald Tablet of Hermes:

“True it is, without falsehood, certain and most true. That which is above is like that which is below, and that which is below is like that which is above, to accomplish the miracles of the One Thing. And as all things were by the contemplation of one, so all things arose from this One Thing by a single act of adaptation. The father thereof is the Sun, the mother the Moon… the power thereof is perfect.”

Not only do Christ and Hermes seem to be coming from the same place, it is amusing to note that Christ is far more explicit in his use of Hermetic symbolism than was Hermes even, the putative father of the alchemical arts. Christ was clearly invoking the archetype of the primordial hermaphrodite, inferring that the state of unity it symbolized was a prerequisite for (or synonymous with) “entering the kingdom.” Elsewhere in The Gospel of Thomas, Christ tells his disciples, “When you make the two one, you will become the sons of man…” And still elsewhere he says, “I am he who exists from the undivided.” Although such esoteric teachings don’t appear elsewhere in the officially sanctioned scriptures, they are certainly in keeping with some aspects of the Judaic tradition from which Christ emerged, and seem to figure prominently in the traditions of various groups said to have been custodians of the secret doctrine of Christ.

From the Zadok priests of ancient Israel to the Knights Templar, and from the Freemasons to the Rosicrucians, all occult groups have employed symbols representing the union of opposites, and the balanced union and equilibrium of male and female forces. For instance, the “X” worn on the forehead of the Zadok priests of the Temple of Solomon was symbolic of the union of the chalice and the blade. The chalice, as receptacle, was a female symbol. The blade, as phallus, was a male symbol. Even the Temple of Solomon itself was a qabalisitic symbol, its pillars of Jachin and Boaz representing the equilibrium of creative and destructive forces. The Seal of Solomon represented much the same thing as the Temple of Solomon: an equilibrium and intertwining of opposites, in this case light and darkness, or spirit and matter. Spirit is associated with the masculine principle, matter with the feminine. The equilateral cross of the Knights Templar is also a representation of the intersection of masculine force with feminine force: the former represented by a vertical line, the latter a horizontal.

The well-known square and compass of Freemasonry is yet another symbol of the conjunction of masculine and feminine principles. The square is used to draw just that: a square, a male symbol. The compass is used to draw a circle, a female symbol. The circle contained within a square thus represents, yet again, the same equilibrium of opposites. Some even believe that the square and compass is patterned after, or indeed suggestive of, the Seal of Solomon. Alternate explanations of this symbol exist wherein the symbolism is precisely the opposite, yet the ultimate meaning is identical

The rose-croix, or rosy cross assumes many forms, but again, the symbolism inherent is identical. The cross is a male symbol, and the rose female. This emblem, however, is far more specific in its iconography, with the cross symbolizing Christ, and the rose Mary Magdalen. Besides representing her, however, the five-pointed rose often employed in this symbol is also associated with both Venus and Lucifer. The Fleur-de-Lys is the pre-eminent heraldic emblem of French royalty, and is said to represent a lily, symbol of Davidic descent. While flowers in general are seen to represent the female reproductive organ, the lily is even more suggestive of a vulva than most. But unlike most flowers, the lily possesses a phallic rod which thrusts forth from its interior, making it uniquely hermaphroditic in its symbolism.

All of these symbols have additional layers of meaning, and many can be explained in alternate terms as well. For instance, it has been pointed out that the rose-cross, or “rosa crux”, was a deliberate misrepresentation of what was originally called the “ros crux.” You see, “ros” means “dew”, a term for the “universal solvent” which the ancient alchemists supposedly used to transmute base matter into gold. Rosicrucians took advantage of the confusion between the two terms to consciously camouflage their true intentions in an ambiguous, seemingly unthreatening icon. Both interpretations, ultimately, are equally alchemical in nature. In fact, all the symbols discussed could be understood in an alchemical context. They all represent an integration and transcendence of opposites – a conjunction of male and female principles.

Why would Christ tell his disciples to make the male like the female and the female like the male, so that the male wouldn’t be male, nor the female female? And how were his disciples to accomplish this feat, this blending of male and female? The answer: sacred sex. In what more direct manner could man or woman experience the essence of their counterpart and achieve (if only briefly) union with it? Modern readers are undoubtedly familiar with this concept as it applies to Tantra and Western sex magic, but believe it or not, it constituted part of many traditions that pre-dated Christ. Several examples could be cited, but the tradition closest to Christ and with which he would have been most familiar was the Judaic. The cabalistic text known as The Zohar states: “The Holy One… does not choose to dwell where the male and female are not united.” And elsewhere, even more specifically:

“The King (God) seeks only that which corresponds to Him. Therefore, the Holy One, blessed he be, dwells in him who (like Him) is one. When man, in perfect holiness, realizes the One, He is in that one. And when is that man called one? When man and woman are joined together sexually…” (Zohar 111, 81a.)

The Jewish mystics of Sabbatism practiced a “messianic mystery of awakenin