God the Father

God the Father is a gendered title given to God in many monotheistic religions, particularly patriarchal, Abrahamic ones. In Judaism, God is called Father because he is the creator, life-giver, law-giver, and protector. In traditional Christianity, God is called Father also because of the mystery of the Father-Son relationship revealed by Jesus Christ as well as the reasons mentioned above.

In general, the name Father signifies God's role as a life-giver, an authority, and powerful protector, often viewed as immense, omnipotent, omniscient, omnipresent with infinite power and charity that goes beyond human understanding. For instance, after completing his monumental work Summa Theologica, St. Thomas Aquinas concluded that he had not yet begun to understand God the Father.

Masculine characteristics are often ascribed to God, in the Scriptures and traditions of many monotheists. In the Bible, God is directly addressed and referred to with the masculine term "Father", in both the Old Testament and the New Testament.

God is also usually defined as being a spirit, and thus having no human biological gender. For instance, the Catechism of the Catholic Church #239 specifically states that "God is neither man nor woman: he is God". Yet, God is thought of as dominant, powerful, fatherly, masculine, passionate, whose ways are too high for his children to understand. God is traditionally referred to by the masculine pronoun he (often capitalized; He).

Feminine imagery for God is also found in the Bible. Even though God is never directly addressed as "Mother", he at times is compared to and likened to a Mother. A woman in labor;[Isa 42:14] a mother who does not forget the child she nurses;[Isa 49:14-15] a mother who comforts her children;[Isa 66:12-13] a mother who births and protects Israel;[Isa 46:3-4] a mother who gave birth to the Israelites;[Dt 32:18] Other maternal references: Ps 131:2; Job 38:8,29.

In modern monotheist religious traditions, such as Christianity, Judaism, Bahá'í, Krishnaism, Vaishnavism and the Brahma Kumaris religion, God is addressed as the father, in part because of his active interest in human affairs, in the way that a father would take an interest in his children who are dependent on him and as a father, he will respond to humanity, his children, acting in their best interests. Many monotheists believe they can communicate with him through prayer, and improve their relationship with him. At times, it is also expected that God may punish those who err like a father punishes his children, e.g. as stated in the New Testament: "Endure hardship as discipline; God is treating you as sons. For what son is not disciplined by his father? If you are not disciplined (and everyone undergoes discipline), then you are illegitimate children and not true sons." [Heb. 12:8]

In Judaism, God is called "Father" with a unique sense of familiarity. In addition to the sense in which God is "Father" to all men because he created the world (and in that sense "fathered" the world), the same God is also uniquely the patriarchal law-giver to the chosen people. He maintains a special, covenantal father-child relationship with the people, giving them the Shabbat, stewardship of his oracles, and a unique heritage in the things of God, calling Israel "my son" because he delivered the descendants of Jacob out of slavery in Egypt[Hosea 11:1] according to his oath to their father, Abraham. In the Hebrew Scriptures, in Isaiah 63:16 (ASV) it reads: "Thou, O Yahweh, art our Father; our Redeemer from everlasting is thy name." To God, according to Judaism, is attributed the fatherly role of protector. He is called the Father of the poor, of the orphan and the widow, their guarantor of justice. He is also called the Father of the king, as the teacher and helper over the judge of Israel.

In Christianity, God is called "Father" in a more literal sense, besides being the creator and nurturer of creation, and the provider for his children.[Heb 1:2-5] [Gal 4:1-7] The Father is said to have an eternal or special relation to his only begotten son, Jesus Christ, which implies an exclusive and intimate familiarity: "No one knows the Son except the Father, and no one knows the Father except the Son and any one to whom the Son chooses to reveal him."[Mt. 11:27] In Christian theology, this is the revelation of a sense in which fatherhood is inherent to God's nature, an eternal relationship.[cf. Jn 17] In the New Testament, God is called "Father" 245 times.

In the third century, Tertullian claimed that God exists as the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit—with the Father being the Head. To trinitarian Christians (which include Roman Catholics, Eastern Orthodox, and some but not all modern Protestant denominations), God the Father is not at all a separate god from the Son (of whom Jesus is the incarnation) and the Holy Spirit, the other Hypostases of the Christian Godhead.
According to the Nicene Creed, the Son (Jesus Christ) is "eternally begotten of the Father", indicating that their divine Father-Son relationship is seen as not tied to an event within time or human history.

To Christians, God the Father's relationship with humanity is as a father to children. Thus, humans in general are sometimes called children of God. To Christians, God the Father's relationship with humanity is that of Creator and created beings, and in that respect he is the "Father" or "Life-giver" of all. The New Testament says, in this sense, that the very idea of family, wherever it appears, derives its name from God the Father,[Eph 3:15] and thus God himself is the model of the family.

However, there is a deeper sense in which Christians believe that they are made participants in the eternal relationship of Father and Son, through Jesus Christ. Christians call themselves adopted children of God:
“ But when the fullness of the time had come, God sent forth His Son, born of a woman, born under the law, to redeem those who were under the law, that we might receive the adoption as sons. And because you are sons, God has sent forth the Spirit of His Son into your hearts crying out, "Abba, Father!" Therefore you are no longer a slave but a son, and if a son, then an heir of God through Christ. ”— Galatians 4:4-7

The Gospel of Mark records that Jesus used the term Abba, "Father" when praying to God during his Agony in the Garden of Gethsemane shortly before his crucifixion, saying: "Abba, Father, all things are possible to you; remove this cup from me. Yet not what I want, but what you want."[Mk 14:36] Here is the fervent appeal of a son to a beloved father, followed quickly by an assurance that, in any event, he would remain obedient. The New Testament refers six times to God as the "God and Father" of Jesus.

In Eastern Orthodox theology, God the Father is the "arche" or "principium" (beginning), the "source" or "origin" of both the Son and the Holy Spirit (which gives intuitive emphasis to the threeness of persons); by comparison, Catholic theology explains the "origin" of all three Hypostases or Persons as being in the divine nature (which gives intuitive emphasis to the oneness of God's being) while still maintaining God the Father as the Source of both the Son and the Spirit.

Unlike Christianity, Islam does not have a separation between Father, Son and Holy Spirit and generally views God as the unique and ineffable God and Creator of All.

Hinduism is not just one religion, but many related religions collectively, believing in about 330 million gods and goddesses of varying ranks and meanings, as part of a pantheon, and as aspects of the Supreme Being, and generally views God, not so much as the Father, but instead Ishvara, a Supreme Controller or Supreme Being, although some say Brahma the Creator is father of all humanity. Therefore, human attributes, such as personality and fatherhood are the mind's projections.

For over one thousand years, no attempt was made to portray God the Father in human form, because early Christians believed that the words of Exodus 33:20 "Thou canst not see my face: for there shall no man see Me and live" and of the Gospel of John 1:18: "No man hath seen God at any time" were meant to apply not only to the Father, but to all attempts at the depiction of the Father. Yet, western art eventually errantly wanted some way to illustrate the presence of the Father, so through successive representations a set of artistic styles for the depiction of the Father in human form gradually emerged around the tenth century AD.

By the twelfth century depictions of the "hand of God" had started to appear in French manuscripts and in stained glass church windows in England. In the 14th century the illustrated Naples Bible, one of the earliest printed Bibles carried a depiction of God the Father in the Burning bush. By the 15th century, the Rohan Book of Hours included depictions of God the Father in human form. The trend in depicting God the Father in Western art continued thereafter, although still prohibited by the Eastern Orthodox Churches.

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6 Religions in Peace: Light and Joy with Flowers and Prayers

This YouTube video called "Light and joy with Flowers and Prayers: 6 Religions", those being Taoism, Hinduism, Buddhism, Judaism, Christianity and Islam has a stage full of people singing, playing and dancing together to a song in a concert in Russia. The last part features the choir of the (Russian Orthodox Christian Church) Moscow Patriarchate's Belgorod Seminary singing their prayer to the Holy Trinity under the direction of Protopriest Nicholas Katsu, done with the blessing of Archbishop John of Belgorod. Ecumenism at it's finest in a flashy package sure to please the masses.

The Lohans of Buddhism

In Theravada Buddhism, the Arhat, Arahat or Arahant, translated into Chinese as Lohan, is one who has followed the Eightfold Path and has achieved deliverance of this earthly existence. He has reached "the other shore" and is saved for all eternity. In him the asavas - the craving for sensual pleasures, earthly existence, ignorance and wrong views - are gone. He is subject to no more rebirths and karma.

Lohans are well-known for their great wisdom, courage and supernatural power. Due to their abilities to ward off the evil, Lohans have became guardian angels of the Buddhist temple and there in the main hall standing guard are the ever-present, indomitable-looking 18 Lohan figures, sometimes accompanied by 500 or more lesser Lohans.

According to tradition, there were originally only 16 lohans. Two were added on the list by the Chinese in the Tang Dynasty.

Legend has it that the first portraits of the 18 Lohans were painted by a Buddhist monk Guan Xiu, in 891 A.D. Guan Xiu lived in Chengdu, the capital of a small kingdom, the Former Shu, formed at the decline of the Tang Dynasty in what is today's Sichuan Province. He was adept at the scholarly pursuits of painting, calligraphy and poetry.

It was because of his expert painting skill that the Lohans chose him to paint their portraits. They appeared to him in his dreams to make that request.

The traditional order of the 18 Lohans is based on the order in which they appeared in Guan Xiu's dreams, not on the strength of their power. The order is: Deer Sitting, Happy, Raised Bowl, Raised Pagoda, Meditating, Oversea, Elephant Riding, Laughing Lion, Open Heart, Raised Hand, Thinking, Scratched Ear, Calico Bag, Plantain, Long Eyebrow, Doorman, Taming Dragon and Taming Tiger Lohans.

Since then, Chinese artists, be they painters, sculptors or potters, have sought to give flesh and blood to these essentially mythical figures. Often they would base their portrayals of the Lohans on Guan Xiu's paintings. Innumerous legends have served to provide attributes and dispositions, from which the artists draw their inspiration. As each artist has his own method of expression, thus the portrayals of the Lohans differ from dynasty to dynasty and from place to place.

Himalayan Ascent to Christ

When we come to know God as Person, we begin to see His hand at work not only in the circumstances of our daily lives, but also in the events of our past which have led us to the present moment. We see how from partial truths He has led us to the fullness of Truth, and how He continues to lead us into a more profound realization of that Truth. As Fr. Seraphim Rose wrote, when we come to Christ “no real truth we have ever known will ever be lost.”

Surrounded by five of the highest peaks in the Himalayas, I was standing at 14,000 feet gazing at the Annapurna mountains as the sun rose. My trek in Nepal had begun a few weeks previously and this was its culmination. As I stood staring at the pristine beauty soaring above me, a thought entered my mind and refused to budge: “What’s the point?” My ego immediately retorted to this random thought, “What’s the point! What do you mean, ‘What’s the point?’ The point is you hiked all this distance to see these mountains, now enjoy it!” Still the thought plagued my mind. Yes, it was one of the most beautiful things I had ever seen, and I was joyful at the moment, but where would those feelings be tomorrow when I was no longer so greatly inspired? The happiness of this world could never bring me satisfaction. It should have been apparent throughout my life, but it took my climbing to the top of the world for me to finally accept it. And that was my first step toward Christ and Orthodoxy.

Until that point my entire adult life had been a secular one devoted to satisfying sundry passions. I had finished University at the age of 21 with plans of going into business while at the same time pursuing a career in art. Within a year I seemed well on the way to reaching my goal. I was then living in London, employed by IBM. My position was secure and a promotion was imminent. My private life was similar to that of many of my generation: casual relationships, pursuit of comfort, and constant diversions to preserve myself from any self-reflection.

At about the same time my older sister became an Orthodox nun in Alaska. Whether it’s a coincidence or not I’m not sure, but from that time on my passion for worldly pursuits began to wane. Surveying my co-workers, no one seemed to be truly happy or content. That elusive quality of satisfaction was never present but always tantalizingly just around the corner. Travelling, sports, drinking with the “lads” all became more and more mundane. Every Monday the same question: “How was your weekend?” Every Friday again: “Any plans this weekend?” London became greyer and greyer and the steady drizzle never managed to wash away the grime.

Instead of looking deeper into the causes of my boredom, I placed the blame firmly on the shoulders of corporate culture. I assumed that my disdain for the world was due to the pursuit of monetary gain. So I quit IBM, packed my bags and returned to America. Cherishing my disdain for prosperity and social acceptance, I began my descent into Bohemia. Oddly enough, I failed to notice that the same rules that govern acceptability in corporate life were applicable to the alternative scene. Substitute a leather jacket for a suit, a tatoo for a rolex, and a pierced eyebrow for cufflink and you still have the same man.

I began the pursuit of a Masters degree in art and found a job at the Museum of Modern Art. My artwork consisted of large custom-made canvases covered in thick layers of tar. Tar had not been used as an artistic medium before, so my work was instantly popular. I strove to be passionate about obscure modern philosophers, post-punk shows and late-night parting, but it all wearied me. I assumed that something was wrong with me. Why did I find it impossible to seriously discuss a gallery exhibit featuring a basket of crushed aluminum cans and underwear stretched on pieces of wire? Why did I find no joy in watching a performance artist squawk like a chicken for fifteen minutes? Fortunately, I quickly wearied of my “alternative life-style,” and right then a friend phoned me asking if I wanted to go to Japan. I had always had an interest in Asian cultures, and I esteemed myself a floater par excellence, so within a month I found myself in Kyoto, Japan.

I quickly acclimated to my new surroundings. Within two weeks I was enrolled in a language course and had found a position teaching English. It was peculiar to be in a country where one could leave their car running while they went into a store and not worry about it being stolen. Honesty was the norm and it initiated a change in me. My conscience began to return to life. I felt an immense relief, when I began to do simple things like paying the proper toll on the subway. It was a mere adherence to the law without any deeper understanding, but it was the catalyst for subtle changes, and I began to breathe more easily.

Living in the ancient capital of Japan exposed me to two thousand years of tradition on a daily basis. I had grown up in the suburbs of southern California (the oldest building in my neighborhood being ten years old); here I was living next to a thousand year-old temple which had served countless emperors. The temples, gardens, and customs began to feed a soul that had consumed far too much tar. Naturally attracted to the beauty of the traditions, I commenced upon a phase of dabbling in Zen Buddhism. For my easily distracted and impatient mind it was too much. In a Zen temple there is only one correct way of performing any action and it must be done precisely. My bows were too violent, my posture never erect, and my socks never clean enough. The priest shuddered at my appearance. Perfection was demanded and I came up far short. I finally stopped not because of my inadequacy, but because of the utter lack of joy I felt there. It was all too mechanical: push the right buttons and attain enlightenment. There was a calmness I felt after meditating, but did this really help anyone else? I supposed I could attain this state with much less effort through a tranquilizer.

Three years passed, my Japanese was adequate, and I felt I had gleaned everything useful from the culture. The challenge of surviving in a foreign culture had disappeared, my salary was high, my job easy, I could see myself becoming complacent. It would be very easy to pass the next forty years in this very warm niche that I had carved out. I quit my job, gave up my house and began my slow journey back to America.

I travelled all over Asia from Vietnam down to Singapore with no clear destination in mind. The excitement of new places and travelling companions kept me distracted most of the time, but before bed the dull pain of emptiness would return. I was still desperately searching for that element that was missing in my life. I travelled to the remote sacred places of the Buddhists and the Hindus; by the time I reached them I was already planning the next stage in my trip. During my travels through Burma, I visited a temple on the edge of Mandalay. Thousands of steps led up the side of a mountain to the temple which overlooked the entire city. As I made my ascent, I perceived a Buddhist monk next to me matching my stride. He was in his fifties, short, slightly plump, with a ruddy cheerful countenance. He introduced himself and we continued our climb. Arriving at the summit we sat on a wall of the temple talking as the sun set over Mandalay. After some introductory pleasantries, I turned the subject to the political situation in Burma (Burma is presently under a harsh military dictatorship) which murdered a large segment of the population after riots against corrupt policies in the late eighties). He sighed and looked upon me with a disappointed gaze, “Why do you want to talk about that?” I mumbled an excuse to cover the true reason, which was to display my knowledge of serious subjects. He steered the conversation in a completely different direction. “Last week I saw a movie called ‘Jesus of Nazareth.’ What a wonderful life!” For the next ten minutes he extolled the virtues of Christ. I was being proselytized by a Buddhist monk, not to convert me to his religion but to Christianity. I was dumbfounded. I had thought myself far above Christianity since I was in high school, and here was a pagan giving me back what I had rejected. Because of the words of a simple Burmese monk, I was awakened to the fact that perhaps there was something more to Christianity than the veneer I had rejected. I still was not compelled at that point to make a serious investigation into Christianity, but the seed-bed was being prepared.

A short time passed and I travelled on to Nepal, where I was to meet some friends for a trek in the Himalayas. I arrived some time before them, and decided to spend the interim in a Tibetan Buddhist monastery. I found one a short distance from Katmandu, which offered courses in English. I went as a cultural tourist, sampling the next dish at the smorgasbord of world religions.

I arrived skeptical of everything, expecting to find lots of spaced out new-agers. After the first few days my opinions were completely altered. This wasn’t a feel-good chiliastic religion; these were people honestly struggling to attain the truth. I was astonished to learn that they believed in hell. Who in this modern age believes in hell? But for them it was the natural outcome of a wasted life. I was intrigued. I began to listen more carefully as further doctrines were disseminated. The core of the religion is the idea that all beings live in a transitory realm of desire and suffering. All suffering is created by chasing after that which is impermanent; instead one must look toward that which is permanent: the truth. The only way to attain this is to cease clinging to ones ego, and instead to live for others. Only when we put others’ happiness above our own can we have happiness ourselves. I was stunned: after 27 years of being told, “Do whatever feels good,” the Tibetans were telling me that whatever feels good will probably make you miserable in this life or the next. This was a revolutionary idea to me, but at the same time I had a vague feeling I had heard it somewhere before.

After a few weeks at the monastery, I left to go trekking with my friends who had now arrived in Nepal. We took a bus across country and began our trek into the Annapurna mountain range. With full packs we ascended to 14,000 feet over the next two weeks. The scenery was stunning, the terrain changing from fertile valleys to dense forests, to snow covered summits. The hiking was drudgery at times, as we would ascend 1,000 feet and then enter a valley where we would descend the same amount. The beauty of creation was astonishing, but every night as I lay down to sleep that old feeling of missing something reappeared; I assumed this would vanish once I arrived at the base of the Annapurnas.

We reached our destination one afternoon, breathless and more than a bit disappointed. The entire area was swallowed by a huge cloud bank which we were inside. We explored the glaciers and spent time huddled next to a stove in a small tea hut. By night there was no sign of a cloud break. We went to sleep and were awakened just before dawn with the news char the weather had cleared. I came outside and one of the most astonishing sights in the world greeted my eyes. The sun slowly rose over the top of the world, which I felt I could reach out and touch. Then that dastardly thought arose in my mind, “What’s the point?” Then it dawned on me: this whole trip had been done for my own gratification. As soon as the momentary high was gone, I would be back in my own normal state. I had struggled with blisters, bad knees and giardia, and for what? To see an exalted, but in the end just another pretty view. Had this improved me as a person or helped anyone else? No, it had merely fed my ego; I had acquired excellent fodder for conversation at parties. Where had all my high Buddhist ideals gone? At that moment I realized my life had to be dedicated to some higher principle than earthly pleasure. I decided to return to the monastery.

I spent the next few months studying Tibetan Buddhist philosophy and meditation techniques. Still there were certain elements I had trouble accepting. The doctrine of Karma seemed to allow for no free will in man; ones decisions to do good or evil were always controlled by previous actions. How would it be possible to break free, if every decision was predetermined? If one had sinned since beginningless time as they believed, how could one ever purify oneself in such a short life? In some ways, what was so difficult was that it was so logical; it seemed devised by a human mind. Still the philosophy of self-sacrifice had rooted itself in me, even if I had failed to act upon it; I knew I could no longer live the life I had.

While at the Tibetan Buddhist monastery, I began reading The Way of a Pilgrim. I saw in the pilgrim the manifestation of self-abnegation and compassion that I had found in Tibetan Buddhism, yet it came from the Christian tradition I had been raised with. Why had I never heard about this in my Catholic church growing up? Stranger still was the fact that my sister was a Russian Orthodox nun and yet I knew nothing of the religions mystical qualities. I decided that perhaps I was not ready to become a Buddhist and that I should inquire further into my own heritage.

After being hit on the head enough times, I finally came to the conclusion that all of my travels were rather pointless and that I needed to return home and anchor myself. I had plans to meet friends in Egypt for Christmas, but I found a cheaper flight to Istanbul and thought that would be a good departure point for Western Europe and the U.S. The carrier was Aeroflot. A few days later it registered in my mind that Aeroflot was the Russian airline and my sister was living in Moscow. I thought perhaps they might have a stop-over in Moscow. It turned out they did. Within a few days I had a three-week stopover and a visa for Russia. I flew into Moscow on St. Herman’s day.

My sister greeted me at the airport and thus began my three-week crash course in Orthodoxy. A new world began to open to me. I was in a land where people died for Christ, and the intersession of the saints was a normal event. This was not an empty Christianity viewed as a social obligation. These were people who had endured incredible hardships in suffering for the truth.

I began reading volumes on Orthodoxy, visiting churches, and civilly discussing with my sister the differences in Orthodox and Buddhist tenets. She kept on coming back to the same point: Christianity has the truth in the form of a person. I failed to understand the importance. Force or person, I could not see the difference.

Then I met Fr. Artemy, a well-known Moscow priest with a huge congregation. He is a self-sacrificing man, whose entire life is dedicated to Christ and the spreading of the Gospel. We arrived at his church during the Saturday-night vigil. We found him hearing confessions surrounded by a crowd of fifty to a hundred people waiting to confess. I stood at the edge of the circle and before much time had passed I was pulled into its center by Fr. Artemy. With eyes closed, hands on my shoulders he began speaking to me. When he wished to emphasize a point, he would ram his forehead into mine. As he spoke to me in a highly florid English, I had the overwhelming impression that this priest, whom I had never met, knew much more about me than he should. What truly shook me was the feeling that he was urgently concerned with my soul, as though he had a personal stake in it. He spoke to me for ten minutes while the babushkas impatiently began tightening in on us. He continued talking, telling me that my experience in Nepal had been given me by God to pull me out of materialism. Then he told me why Christianity was the true faith: only it had a personal God. I still failed to understand the importance of this fact, but I left feeling lighter, although I had said almost nothing.

In the barren sepulchre of Moscow a new world began to open to me. The oppression of the city weighed little on me, as I realized that the heavenly realm of God and His saints was actually closer than the gray slab buildings dominating the city. I visited the St. Sergius Lavra and for the first time was able to venerate the relics of a saint. In those “dead bones” there seemed to be more life than in all of southern California. My stay culminated with Nativity at the Valaam Metochion. I felt as though I was surrounded by what appeared to be ordinary people, yet they remained with one foot in heaven. Christianity may be a religion of intangible faith, but I seemed to be receiving tangible verification everywhere I turned.

A few days later I left Moscow. Before my departure, my sister chastised me, saying, “My dear, if you can spend three months sitting with the Buddhists, you can at least spend one standing with the Orthodox.” Which is exactly what I did. Increasing the pace of my return, I arrived in California two months later. On the eve of Annunciation I travelled up the rough dirt road to the St. Herman of Alaska Monastery. The first thing that struck me, having just come up from San Diego, was the fact that these monks were anachronisms in the twentieth century. Who heard of giving up comfort and possessions in these times? It was the middle of Lent and it was clearly visible that these men were in the midst of spiritual warfare. Sobriety permeated the monastery. They seemed ready to die for the truth, and that was not something I had seen at IBM, Art School or in Japan. There was suffering in those places, but were they willing to give everything for the one thing needful? After all I had seen, I still did not have a firm belief in God, but I knew these monks saw something and I wanted it.

Lazarus Saturday arrived. On this day the Church commemorates Christ raising Lazarus from the dead after four days. I was awakened early to attend Liturgy at a nearby convent, followed by a meal there. After I awoke, I immediately fell back asleep. When I finally did rise from my bed, I found the entire monastery empty. Not a soul remained. As I wandered through the monastery, the verse, “Behold the Bridegroom cometh at midnight, and blessed is that servant whom he shall find watching,” ran through my head. And chat was exactly what had occurred both physically and spiritually. God had knocked and offered me a feast, but I had remained reticent. Had God finally closed the door on me? I began the descent down the mountain, hoping to hitch-hike to the convent. As I walked I contemplated the events of the morning, and it seemed obvious that God had allowed me to be left behind to rouse me from my indecision. Then it finally hit me, what was meant by a personal God. Why would an impersonal force send me such a clear message for the salvation of my soul? If it was impersonal, why should it care what happened to me? Love cannot exist except between people. A force cannot love (and I challenge you to try to love an impersonal force). Therefore I came to the conclusion that God had to be a Person. As I arrived at this deduction, I heard a car approaching me from behind: it was our only neighbor on the mountain. I flagged him down and by a strange “coincidence” it happened that he was making his once-a-week trip to the store which neighbored the convent. I arrived in time for Liturgy.

Two years have passed and I am now a ryassophore monk, an anachronism if you will. My struggles have not ceased) but my days of wandering are at an end. I sometimes mourn over my wasted past, but when I look more closely I see God’s hand guiding me through even the most barren of times. Now He has brought me here for a reason, but that must still be revealed.

What are the Seven Heavens?

While there are abundant and varied sources for conceptions of Heaven, the typical believer's view appears to depend largely on his religious tradition and particular sect. Some religions conceptualize Heaven as pertaining to some type of peaceful life after death related to the immortality of the soul. Heaven is generally construed as a place of happiness, sometimes eternal happiness.


In ancient Judaism, the belief in Heaven and afterlife was connected with that of Sheol (mentioned in Isaiah 38:18, Psalms 6:5 and Job 7:7-10). Some scholars asserted that Sheol was an earlier concept, but this theory is not universally held. One later Jewish sect that maintained belief in a Resurrection of the dead was known as the Pharisees. Opposed to them were the Sadducees who denied the doctrine of Resurrection (Matt. 22:23). In most forms of Christianity, belief in the afterlife is professed in the major Creeds, such as the Nicene Creed, which states: "We look for the resurrection of the dead, and the life of the world to come."


In Buddhism there are several heavens, all of which are still part of Samsara. Those who accumulate good karma may be reborn in one of them. However, their stay in the heaven is not eternal—eventually they will use up their good karma and will undergo a different rebirth into another realm, as humans, animals, or other beings. Because Heaven is temporary and part of Samsara, Buddhists focus more on escaping the cycle of rebirth and reaching enlightenment (Nirvana). In the native Chinese Confucian traditions Heaven (Tian) is an important concept, where the ancestors reside and from which emperors drew their mandate to rule in their dynastic propaganda, for example.


Some faiths teach that one enters heaven at the moment of death, while others teach that this occurs at a later time (day of judgement). Some of Christianity along with other major religions maintain that entry into Heaven awaits such time as, "When the form of this world has passed away." One view expressed in the Bible is that on the day Christ returns the righteous dead are resurrected first, and then those who are alive and judged righteous will be brought up to join them, to be taken to heaven. (I Thess 4:13-18)


Two related and often confused concepts of heaven in Christianity are better described as the "resurrection of the body", which is exclusively of Biblical origin, as contrasted with "the immortality of the soul", which is also evident in the Greek tradition. In the first concept, the soul does not enter heaven until the last judgement or the "end of time" when it (along with the body) is resurrected and judged. In the second concept, the soul goes to a heaven on another plane immediately after death. These two concepts are generally combined in the doctrine of the double judgement where the soul is judged once at death and goes to a temporary heaven, while awaiting a second and final physical judgement at the end of the world.


In some early religions (such as the Ancient Egyptian faith), Heaven was a physical place far above the Earth in a "dark area" of space where there were no stars, basically beyond the Universe. Departed souls would undergo a literal journey to reach Heaven, along the way to which there could exist hazards and other entities attempting to deny the reaching of Heaven.


One popular medieval view of Heaven was that it existed as a physical place above the clouds and that God and the Angels were physically above, watching over man. Heaven as a physical place survived in the concept that it was located far out into space, and that the stars were "lights shining through from heaven".


Many of today's Biblical scholars, such as N. T. Wright, in tracing the concept of Heaven back to its Jewish roots, see Earth and Heaven as overlapping or interlocking. Heaven is known as God's space, his dimension, and is not a place that can be reached by human technology. This belief states that Heaven is where God lives and reigns whilst being active and working alongside people on Earth. One day when God restores all things, Heaven and Earth will be forever combined into the 'New Heavens' and 'New Earth'.


Heaven is a key concept in Chinese mythology, philosophies and religions, and is on one end of the spectrum a synonym of Shangdi ("Supreme Deity") and on the other naturalistic end, a synonym for nature and the sky. The Chinese term for Heaven, Tian (天), derives from the name of the supreme deity of the Zhou Dynasty. After their conquest of the Shang Dynasty in 1122 BC, the Zhou people considered their supreme deity Tian to be identical with the Shang supreme deity Shangdi, much as the Romans identified the Greek Zeus with their Jupiter. The Zhou people attributed Heaven with anthropomorphic attributes, evidenced in the etymology of the Chinese character for Heaven or sky, which originally depicted a person with a large cranium. Heaven is said to see, hear and watch over all men. Heaven is affected by man's doings, and having personality, is happy and angry with them. Heaven blesses those who please it and sends calamities upon those who offend it. Heaven was also believed to transcend all other spirits and gods, with Confucius asserting, "He who offends against Heaven has none to whom he can pray."


Other philosophers born around the time of Confucius such as Mozi took an even more theistic view of Heaven, believing that Heaven is the divine ruler, just as the Son of Heaven is the earthly ruler. Mozi believed that spirits and minor gods exist, but their function is merely to carry out the will of Heaven, watching for evil-doers and punishing them. Thus they function as angels of Heaven and do not detract from its monotheistic government of the world. With such a high monotheism, it is not surprising that Mohism championed a concept called "universal love" (jian'ai, 兼愛), which taught that Heaven loves all people equally and that each person should similarly love all human beings without distinguishing between his own relatives and those of others. In Mozi's Will of Heaven (天志), he writes:

"I know Heaven loves men dearly not without reason. Heaven ordered the sun, the moon, and the stars to enlighten and guide them. Heaven ordained the four seasons, Spring, Autumn, Winter, and Summer, to regulate them. Heaven sent down snow, frost, rain, and dew to grow the five grains and flax and silk that so the people could use and enjoy them. Heaven established the hills and rivers, ravines and valleys, and arranged many things to minister to man's good or bring him evil. He appointed the dukes and lords to reward the virtuous and punish the wicked, and to gather metal and wood, birds and beasts, and to engage in cultivating the five grains and flax and silk to provide for the people's food and clothing. This has been so from antiquity to the present." Original Chinese: 「且吾所以知天之愛民之厚者有矣，曰以磨為日月星辰，以昭道之；制為四時春秋冬夏，以紀綱之；雷降雪霜雨露，以長遂五穀麻絲，使民得而財利之；列為山川谿谷，播賦百事，以臨司民之善否；為王公侯伯，使之賞賢而罰暴；賊金木鳥獸，從事乎五穀麻絲，以為民衣食之財。自古及今，未嘗不有此也。」
—Mozi, Will of Heaven, Chapter 27, Paragraph 6, ca. 5th Century BC

Christianity has taught "Heaven" as a place of eternal life, in that it is a shared plane to be attained by all the elect (rather than an abstract experience related to individual concepts of the ideal). The Christian Church has been divided over how people gain this eternal life. From the 16th to the late 19th century, Christendom was divided between the Roman Catholic view, the Orthodox view, the Coptic view, the Jacobite view, the Abyssinian view and Protestant views.


Roman Catholics believe that entering purgatory cleanses one of sin (period of suffering until one's nature is perfected), during agony in which makes one acceptable to enter heaven. This is valid for venial sin only, as mortal sins can be forgiven only through the act of reconciliation and repentance while on earth. Some within the Anglican Communion, notably Anglo-Catholics, also hold to this belief, despite their separate history. However, in the Eastern Orthodox, Oriental Orthodox, and Eastern Catholic Churches, it is only God who has the final say on who enters heaven. In the Eastern Orthodox Church, heaven is understood as union (Theosis) and communion with the Triune God (reunion of Father and Son through love).


In the newer Protestant Christian sects of the last 500 years, eternal life depends upon the sinner receiving God's grace (unearned and undeserved blessing stemming from God's love) through faith in Jesus' death for their sins, see atonement, his resurrection as the Christ, and accepting his Lordship (authority and guidance) over their lives. Some Protestant sects also teach that a physical baptism, or obligatory process of transformation or experience of spiritual rebirth, is further required. Also, Protestantism is divided into groups who believe in the doctrine of eternal security (once a person becomes a Christian, s/he remains one forever, also referred to by the slogan "once saved, always saved") and those who believe that a person who sins continually without any repentance or penitence was never saved in the first place. Some sects do believe that those who continually sin can lose their salvation, though it is generally believed that it shows that the individual was not fully committed in the first place.


From the early second century, we have a fragment of one of the lost volumes of Papias, a Christian bishop, who expounded that "heaven" was separated into three distinct layers. He referred to the first as just "heaven", the second as "paradise", and the third as "the city". Papias taught that "there is this distinction between the habitation of those who produce a hundredfold, and that of those who produce sixty-fold, and that of those who produce thirty-fold".


In the 2nd century AD, Irenaeus (a Greek bishop) wrote that not all who are saved would merit an abode in heaven itself.


Christians in the first century, such as Paul of Tarsus, believed that the Kingdom of God was coming to earth within their lifetimes. They looked forward to a divine future on earth. After the Kingdom of God did not arrive, Christians gradually refined their hopes, so that they came to look forward to a reward in heaven after death rather than to a reward in an imminent, divine kingdom on earth; while continuing to use the major creeds' statements of belief in the Resurrection.


The teachings of the Eastern Orthodox and Oriental Orthodox communions regarding the Kingdom of Heaven, or Kingdom of God, are basically taken from scripture, and thus many elements of this belief are held in common with other scriptural faiths and denominations. Some specific descriptions of this Kingdom as given in the canon of scripture include— (this list is by no means comprehensive):

1. Peaceful Conditions on a New Earth — Is. 2:2–4, 9:7, 11:6–9, 27:13, 32:17–18, 33:20–21, 60:17–18, Ez. 34:25–28, 37:26, Zech 9:10, Matt. 5:3–5, Rev. 21
2. Eternal Rule by a Messiah–King — Ps. 72, Jer 31:33–34, Zech 2:10–11, 8:3, 14:9, Matt 16:27, Rev 21:3–4
3. An heir of David, Is. 9:6–7, 11:1–5
4. Bodily perfection — No hunger, thirst, death, or sickness; a pure language, etc. – Is. 1:25, 4:4, 33:24, 35:5–6, 49:10, 65:20–24, Jer. 31:12–13, Ez. 34:29, 36:29–30, Micah 4:6–7, Zeph. 3:9–19, Matt 13:43
5. Ruined cities inhabited by people and flocks of sheep — Is. 32:14, 61:4–5, Ez. 36:10,33–38, Amos 9:14

Eastern Orthodox cosmology perceives heaven as having different levels (John 14:2), the lowest of which is Paradise. At the time of creation, paradise touched the earth at the Garden of Eden. After the Fall of man, paradise was separated from the earth, and mankind forbidden entry, lest he partake of the Tree of Life and live eternally in a state of sinfulness (Genesis 3:22-24). At his death on the Cross, the Orthodox believe Jesus opened the door to Paradise to mankind again (Luke 23:43), and the Good Thief was the first to enter.


Various saints have had visions of heaven (2 Corinthians 12:2-4). The Orthodox concept of life in heaven is described in one of the prayers for the dead: "…a place of light, a place of green pasture, a place of repose, whence all sickness, sorrow and sighing are fled away."


According to Jewish teachings in the Talmud, the universe is made of seven heavens as below:

1. Vilon (וילון), Also see (Isa 40:22)
2. Raki'a (רקיע), Also see (Gen 1:17)
3. Shehaqim (שחקים), See (Ps 78:23, Midr. Teh. to Ps. xix. 7)
4. Zebul (זבול), See (Isa 63:15, I Kings 8:13)
5. Ma'on (מעון), See (Deut 26:15, Ps 42:9)
6. Machon (מכון), See (1 Kings 7:30, Deut 28:12)
7. Araboth (ערבות), The seventh Heaven where ofanim, the seraphim, and the hayyoth and the throne of the Lord are located.

The Jewish Merkavah and Heichalot literature was devoted to discussing the details of these heavens, sometimes in connection with traditions relating to Enoch, such as the Third Book of Enoch.


While the concept of heaven (malkuth hashamaim מלכות השמים, the Kingdom of Heaven) is well-defined within the Christian and Islamic religions, the Jewish concept of the afterlife, sometimes known as olam haba, the World-to-come, is not so precise. The Torah has little to say on the subject of survival after death, but by the time of the rabbis two ideas had made inroads among the Jews: one, which is probably derived from Greek thought, is that of the immortal soul which returns to its creator after death; the other, which is thought to be of Persian origin, is that of resurrection. The Mishnah says, "This world is like a lobby before the World-To-Come. Prepare yourself in the lobby so that you may enter the banquet hall." Jewish writings refer to a "new earth" as the abode of mankind following the resurrection of the dead. Originally, the two ideas of immortality and resurrection were different but in rabbinic thought they are combined: the soul departs from the body at death but is returned to it at the resurrection. This idea is linked to another rabbinic teaching, that men's good and bad actions are rewarded and punished not in this life but after death, whether immediately or at the subsequent resurrection.

Kabbalah Jewish mysticism recognizes seven heavens. In order from lowest to highest, the seven Heavens are listed alongside the angels who govern them:

1. Shamayim: The first Heaven, governed by Archangel Gabriel, is the closest of heavenly realms to the Earth; it is also considered the abode of Adam and Eve.
2. Raquie: The second Heaven is dually controlled by Zachariel and Raphael. It was in this Heaven that Moses, during his visit to Paradise, encountered the angel Nuriel who stood "300 parasangs high, with a retinue of 50 myriads of angels all fashioned out of water and fire." Also, Raquia is considered the realm where the fallen angels are imprisoned and the planets fastened.[27]
3. Shehaqim: The third Heaven, under the leadership of Anahel, serves as the home of the Garden of Eden and the Tree of Life; it is also the realm where manna, the holy food of angels, is produced.[28] The Second Book of Enoch, meanwhile, states that both Paradise and Hell are accommodated in Shehaqim with Hell being located simply " on the northern side."
4. Machen: The fourth Heaven is ruled by the Archangel Michael , and according to Talmud Hagiga 12, it contains the heavenly Jerusalem, the Temple, and the Altar.
5. Machon: The fifth Heaven is under the administration of Samael, an angel referred to as evil by some, but who is to others merely a dark servant of God.
6. Zebul: The sixth Heaven falls under the jurisdiction of Sachiel.
7. Araboth: The seventh Heaven, under the leadership of Cassiel, is the holiest of the seven Heavens provided the fact that it houses the Throne of Glory attended by the Seven Archangels and serves as the realm in which God dwells; underneath the throne itself lies the abode of all unborn human souls. It is also considered the home of the Seraphim, the Cherubim, and the Hayyoth.

The Qur'an contains many references to an afterlife in Eden for those who do good deeds. Regarding the concept of heaven (Jannat) in the Qu'ran, verse 35 of Surah Al-Ra’d says, "The parable of the Garden which the righteous are promised! Beneath it flow rivers. Perpetual is the fruits thereof and the shade therein. Such is the End of the Righteous; and the end of the unbelievers is the Fire."[Qur'an 13:35] Islam rejects the concept of original sin, and Muslims believe that all human beings are born pure. Children automatically go to heaven when they die, regardless of the religion of their parents. The highest level of heaven is Firdaus (فردوس)- Paradise (پردیس), to which the prophets, martyrs and other pious people will go at the time of their death.
The concept of heaven in Islam differs in many respects to the concept in Judaism and Christianity. Heaven is described primarily in physical terms as a place where every wish is immediately fulfilled. Islamic texts describe immortal life in heaven as happy, without negative emotions. Those who dwell in heaven are said to wear costly apparel, partake in exquisite banquets, and recline on couches inlaid with gold or precious stones. Inhabitants will rejoice in the company of their parents, wives, and children. Texts also refer to "pure consorts" (houris), with whom sexual relations are said to be "a hundred times greater than earthly pleasure". According to Shi'ite sources, A Hadith from Ali mentioned the name of Seven Heavens as below:

1. Rafi' (رفیع) the least heaven (سماء الدنیا)
2. Qaydum (قیدوم)
3. Marum (ماروم)
4. Arfalun (أرفلون‏)
5. Hay'oun (هيعون‏)
6. Arous (عروس)
7. Ajma' (عجماء)

It is believed in Theosophy that each religion (including Theosophy) has its own individual Heaven in various regions of the upper astral plane that fits the description of that Heaven that is given in each religion, which a soul that has been good in their previous life on Earth will go to. The area of the upper astral plane of Earth in the upper atmosphere where the various Heavens are located is called Summerland (Theosophists believe Hell is located in the lower astral plane of Earth which extends downward from the surface of the earth down to its center). However, Theosophists believe that the soul is recalled back to Earth after an average of about 1400 years by the Lords of Karma to incarnate again. The final Heaven that souls go to billions of years in the future after they finish their cycle of incarnations is called Devachan.

The Jesus Sutras Part Two: An Ancient Message for a Post-Modernist Future

Martin Palmer is the Secretary General of the Alliance of Religions and Conservation (ARC), and the author/translator of The Jesus Sutras: Rediscovering the Lost Scrolls of Taoist Christianity, published by Piatkus Books (2001) as well as the Penguin Classics translation of The Book of Chuang Tzu (Penguin Classics), a compilation of the great Daoist philosopher from the fifth century BCE. He wrote the following important article in 2005.

For over 30 years I have been profoundly interested in the faiths, cultures, history and philosophies of ancient China. Most especially, I have been intrigued by that strange phenomenon, ancient Christianity in China. When I mention this deep interest, the most common response is a puzzled look and the question “What ancient Christianity?” Chinese Christianity dates from early in the Seventh Century, but it has been a closely kept secret, both for China and for Christianity. The tradition, as it developed, drew upon not only Christian imagery and philosophy, but also the wisdom of Daoism, Buddhism, and Confucianism. The texts that survive are few, but fascinating. My colleagues and I, in recent years, entered, through them, the conceptual world of these early Chinese Christians. Most marvelous of all, hidden in plain sight in China’s heart, we discovered the earliest monastery—adorned with the earliest Christian artwork—that still survives.

The place was not far from where, if legend can be believed, Lao Tzu wrote the Dao De Ching. In an incident straight out of a fairytale, it was an aged seller of amulets who was the instrument of revelation. My colleagues and I had come to Lou Guan Tai, the site of the greatest official Daoist temple. I believed that the earliest Christian church in China was located nearby.

West of the main temple, we saw a perilously leaning seven-storey pagoda. We asked an old woman, a vendor of amulets, sitting nearby what religion it represented. “It is Buddhist,” she replied. As we turned away disappointed, she added, “But it wasn’t always Buddhist.”

Our hopes were aroused until she continued, “It used to be Daoist,” she told us. Crestfallen, we again prepared to leave. With impeccable timing, she again prevented us from departing.

It doesn’t really belong to either of them, though,” the old woman confided. “It was built by five monks who came from the West and believed in one God.”

To explore further, we climbed the steep hill into which the site had been cut. We scrambled to the top—and were welcomed by another aged lady, a Buddhist nun who informed us that she was 115 years old.

We searched for proof that the pagoda had once been Christian. No evidence offered itself. Only when I climbed still higher did I discover that we had found what we had sought. Daoist, Confucian, and Buddhist temples, almost without exception, run north-south. This terrace, cut to hold the temple, ran east-west: the cosmic alignment for Christian churches.

“Why so much noise?” the Buddhist nun asked as I ran down the hill shouting the news. I explained my conviction that we stood on an ancient Christian site, then worried that I had offended her when she drew herself up to her full height of five feet. “Well, of course it is!” she informed us.” This was the greatest Christian monastery in China. We all know that!”

We were told that local people remembered the five monks who had come from the West and the building that they had made. Memory lost to the wider world for over a millennium had persisted here.

We were saying our farewells when the old nun turned to me. “You want to pray, don’t you?” she asked. “Go ahead, then. They will all hear you.”

I prayed on ground sanctified by Christian and Buddhist supplications. We know only a little about how they prayed, these spiritual ancestors of China. One Tang Dynasty painting shows Christians with hands raised in simple devotion. Another shows a saint—or perhaps Jesus himself—in the Buddhist mudra associated with teaching. I know how I prayed that day. I prayed weeping.

Discoveries followed, once excavation had begun. Within the center of the mountain was a cave, and in the cave was the lower portion of a statue. The design of the mountain and the cave were classical Chinese. The figure was not.

The Orthodox Church bases its representations of Christ’s birth on the Book of James, which recounts that Mary gave birth alone, in a mountain cave. The figure in the cave echoed thousands of Orthodox depictions of the Nativity. A woman, semi-reclining, gazes at the child she holds. She is Mary. Outlined in the dirt was the shape of a child. The earliest known Christian statue in China was composed of Orthodox iconography surrounded by Chinese art. The second statue seems to represent a favorite prophet of the Church of the East, Jonah.

Architecturally and historically, these were important discoveries. Even more important, perhaps, is the spiritual discovery of The Jesus Sutras.

On its publication, my book translating these Sutras aroused great interest. The Christianity revealed in the texts emerges in a form unknown to most of us. In showing what the past has been, these writings suggested what the future could be. An ancient faith revealed a way of believing ideal for those who live today.

My colleagues and I found classics brought to China by the first official Church mission in 635 CE, texts not extant only in Chinese. We found Persian books retelling the life of Jesus; documents from the Subcontinent exploring the fusion of Greek and Indian Buddhist traditions; evidence of religious dialogue among Christians and Hindus and Jains; even a fragment of a text from the ancient Church of Tibet. The insight into Greek, Persian, Zoroastrian, Buddhist and shamanic cultures was remarkable. So was the ability of the Church to fuse Christian teachings and images with wisdom and symbolism from other traditions.

In the Sutras, Jesus is called “the Jade-Faced One,” because, for the Daoists, jade is the stone of immortality. In the Sutras, the doctrine of original sin has no place. Creation is innately good. Concepts of dharma and reincarnation are explored. There is even feminism. The Sutra of the Teachings of the World-Honored One explains that Eve’s sin in Eden is fully expiated by the women who are the first to see the evidence of the risen Christ, saying:

As the first woman caused the lies of humanity, so it was women who first told the truth about what had happened, to show all that the Messiah forgave women and wished them to be treated properly in the future. (Ch 5:32)

The early Chinese Church taught that not only feminine nature, but all human nature is in harmony with Nature itself. The Stone Sutra explains that, as in Daoist philosophy, the whole of creation is intrinsically good. Only when humans allow the goodness that is their birthright to be invaded by foolishness, greed, envy and pride do they become inharmonious with the rest of creation. “Original sin”—the doctrine that “in Adam’s fall/ we sinned all”—is not mentioned.

Sino-Syriac Inscription courtesy Kirschner Museum at Stanford Correspondence Project
“These Teachings are Inexhaustible”

Instead of a viewpoint that sees all of humanity laboring under a curse, the early Chinese Church found much in Daoist teachings that reflected its more loving beliefs.

All of you should chant this day and night,
Because it brings back clear seeing,
And each of you will return to your own original nature,
Your ultimately true beingness,
Free from all falsehood and illusion.
And you will see these teachings are inexhaustible.

Anyone, even if they only have a little love
Can walk the Bright Path, and they will suffer no harm.
This is the way that leads to Peace and Happiness.
And they can come to this even from the darkest of darks.

If you really follow the Sutras, imagine how easy this could be!

“Following the Sutras,” in Seventh-Century China, meant opening to the possibilities exemplified by Jesus. It meant peeling off layers of ignorance and greed to reveal the glory that is our truth, not crushing any inherited wickedness.

It is not only in teachings on The Fall that the Chinese Church is so wonderfully different from what we might expect. The Stone Sutra’s version of the Ten Commandments echoes Buddhism in forbidding the taking of any life and Confucian thought in encouraging the veneration of parents. In fact, the Decalogue itself becomes interwoven with the Sermon on the Mount, as the passage below suggests.

The first covenant of God is that anything that exists and does evil will be punished, especially if they do not respect the elderly.

The second covenant is to honor and care for elderly parents. Those who do this will be true followers of Heaven’s Way.

The third covenant is to acknowledge we have been brought into existence through our parents. Nothing exists without parents.

The fourth covenant is that anybody who understands the precepts should know to be kind and considerate to everything, and to do no evil to anything that lives.

The fifth covenant is that any living being should not take the life of another living being, but should also teach others to do likewise.

The sixth covenant is that nobody should commit adultery, or persuade anyone else to do so.

The seventh covenant is not to steal.

The eighth covenant is that nobody should covet a living man’s wife, or his lands, or his palace, or his servants.

The ninth covenant is not to let your envy of somebody’s good wife, or son, or house or gold, lead you to bear false witness against them.

The tenth covenant is only to offer to God that which is yours to give.

There are even a few “extras.”

If a poor person begs for money, give generously. If you have no money, have the courtesy to explain why you can only give a little help.

If someone is seriously ill or handicapped do not mock, because this is the result of karma and not to be ridiculed.

Good counsel is not all that the Sutras offer. The following passage illustrates how far beyond Judaic tradition the Chinese Christians ranged.

Now, what are the Four Essential Laws of the Dharma?
The first is no wanting. If your heart is obsessed with something,
It manifests in all kinds of distorted ways.
Distorted thoughts are the root of negative behavior . . .

The second is no doing. Don't put on a mask and pretend to be what you’re not . . .
The effort needed to hold a direction is abandoned,
And there is simply action and reaction.
So walk the Way of No Action.

The third is no piousness. And what that means
Is not wanting to have your good deeds broadcast to the nation.
Do what's right to bring people to the truth
But not for your own reputation’s sake.
So anyone who teaches the Triumphant Law,
Practicing the Way of Light to bring life to the truth,
Will know Peace and Happiness in company.
But don't talk it away. This is the Way of No Virtue.

The fourth is no absolute. Don't try to control everything,
Don't take sides in arguments about right and wrong.
Treat everyone equally, and live from day to day.
It’s like a clear mirror that reflects everything anyway:
Green or yellow or in any combination-
It shows everything, as well as the smallest of details.
What does the mirror do? It reflects without judgment.

Such ancient teachings resonate for contemporary people. The Sutra of Returning to your Original Nature offers words from the living Jesus that speak across the ages.

Then He spoke to the assembled crowd and said:
This Sutra is profound and unimaginable.
All the gods and gurus agree on this, and acknowledge
This Way that is the essences of connection and return.
To move you need light to see by — this teaching provides it
Just as the sun slants out, so you can see what is in front of you,
This Sutra offers understanding, and by its light
You can know the Way of Peace and Happiness in your heart.

If anyone wants to share these teachings with friends or family
Of course they can. Honor them, sing and pray together —
And this will bless you and your family into the next generation.
Every generation is united in this communion —
From goodness in past lives, people come to this religion
And through the faith they have they find Happiness.
It’s like the spring rain that refreshes everything —
If you have roots, you will flourish in its coming.
Ch.3 :12 – 19.

The discovery of a site so long hidden is wonderful. Finding art that so beautifully fuses Chinese and non-Chinese traditions is deeply satisfying and instructive. Knowing more about the forms that surrounded the early Church in China contributes much to our human heritage.

The spiritual teachings once imparted within these forms contribute even more. The Jesus Sutras urge respect, kindness, gentleness, and receptivity. To understand them is to peer into an almost-forgotten distant past. To understand them is to light a path to a possible future. Contemplating “The Jade-Faced One” and the Church built around him in China may allow a model of Christianity that is not only ancient but well-fitted for contemporary life, a revelation not only of what has passed away, but of what can come to be.

Chan Buddhist New Year's Party

We ring the temple bell 107 times on the night before New Year’s Day and one time on New Year’s Day itself, just past midnight. There are several theories about this custom. For example, one is simply that people have 108 kinds of worldly desires and can get rid of them by ringing a bell. The other theory involves the Japanese word shikuhaku, which means "agony". It so happens that many Japanese words and sounds have several possible meanings. Ku, for example, means either "troublesome" or "nine". Shi means either "death" or "four". So if we do multiplication tables, shi (4) times ku (9) is thirty-six, and ha (8) times ku (9) is seventy-two. Then, thirty-six plus seventy-two is 108 — the number of worldly desires! By ringing the bell that many times, we hope to rid ourselves of this troublesome karma.

Here is a traditional Chinese explanation: Like the knots or beads on a Mala, the bell is considered as an auspicious article in Chinese tradition. At great ceremonies, the temple bell is rung typically 108 times to begin the celebration. There are 12 months, 24 solar terms and 72 hours on the Chinese lunar calendar, 108 in all. According to Buddhist custom, people have 108 worries which are said to be removed by the bell. The bell-ringing at mid-night of New Year's would captivate many people as its echo carries around the vicinity, whether one is close by or just heard it via broadcast.

Thanksgiving Prayer By Lama Surya Das

May the lamp of love

which eternally burns above

kindle divine fire in our hearts,

and fan that innate spark of divinity into flame-

illumining all, opening our eyes

and consuming our differences,

driving the shadows from our faces.

As love dawns on the horizon,

may our community awaken

in the kingdom of true communion,

which is at hand always.

May we learn to love one another better

even than we love ourselves.

God is great-

may His grace be made manifest.

Love is stronger than death,

Yes.

Amen.

Sexuality and Buddhism

Many variations of Buddhism do not go much into details of right and wrong regarding sexuality and other activities of life. The historical Buddha advised his students to avoid sexual misconduct, but at the same time largely avoided to define how to have sex. The interpretation of sexual misconduct will thus vary between the different schools and traditions, the cultures and even between individual teachers within the respective traditions.

Another variation in the view of sexuality is dependent if the Buddhist practitioner is an ordained monk or nun, since monastic Buddhism has very strict regulation regarding celibacy. Lay Buddhists do not have these regulations, since sex is a very natural part of having a life in society with family and children. In Vajrayana, sexual intercourse can even be a part of the way to enlightenment, the goal of Buddhism.

Celibacy and monasticism

Those who choose to practice Buddhism as ordained monks and nuns, also chose to live in celibacy. Sex is the downfall that could end a monk or nun’s career, and seen as the most serious monastic transgression. There are four principal transgressions: sex, theft, murder, and boasting of superhuman perfections, where sex is listed first. Sexual misconduct for monks and nuns even include masturbation. In the case of monasticm, chastity is seen as a necessity in order to reach the goal.

Lay Buddhism

The most common formulation of Buddhist ethics are the Five Precepts and the Eightfold Path, which say that one should neither be attached to nor crave sensual pleasure. These precepts take the form of voluntary, personal undertakings, not divine mandate or instruction. The third of the Five Precepts is "To refrain from committing sexual misconduct. However, the "sexual misconduct" is such a broad term, and is subjected to interpretation relative to the social norms of the followers. In fact, Buddhism in its fundamental form, does not define what is right and what is wrong in absolute terms for lay followers. Therefore the interpretation of what kinds of sexual activity is acceptable for a layperson, is not a religious matter as far as Buddhism is concerned.

Attachment

The second of the Four Noble Truths states that the ultimate cause of all suffering is attachment and unquenchable desire (tanha), and the third states that the way to eliminate suffering is to eliminate attachment and desire. Sexual practices (heterosexuality, homosexuality, bisexuality or others) are characterised as both attachment (kama-upadana) and desire (kama-tanha). Sensual desire (kama-cchanda) is also the first of the Five Hindrances, which must be eradicated if one is to progress spiritually. Of the three kinds of cchanda, kama-cchanda is the one that is ethically immoral.

Homosexuality

Asian societies shaped by Buddhist traditions take a strong ethical stand in human affairs and sexual behavior in particular. However, unlike most other world religions, most variations of Buddhism do not go into details about what is right and what is wrong in what it considers mundane activities of life. Details of accepted or unaccepted human sexual conduct are not specifically mentioned in any of the religious scriptures in the Pali language. The most common formulations of Buddhist ethics are found the Five Precepts and the Eightfold Path, which state that one should neither be attached to nor crave sensual pleasure. These precepts take the form of voluntary, personal undertakings, not divine mandate or instruction. The third of the Five Precepts is "To refrain from committing sexual misconduct. However, "sexual misconduct" is a broad term, and is subject to interpretation relative to the social norms of the followers. In fact, Buddhism in its fundamental form does not define what is right and what is wrong in absolute terms for lay followers. Therefore the determination of whether or not homosexuality is acceptable for a layperson is not a religious matter as far as fundamental Buddhism is concerned.

Among Buddhists there is a wide diversity of opinion about homosexuality. Buddhism teaches that sensual enjoyment and desire in general, and sexual pleasure in particular, are hindrances to enlightenment. Buddhist monks and nuns of most traditions are expected to refrain from all sexual activity and take vows of celibacy. Some Buddhist orders may specifically prohibit transgender, homosexually active, or homosexually oriented people from ordination.

Thailand

In Thailand, traditional accounts propose that "homosexuality arises as a karmic consequence of violating Buddhist proscriptions against heterosexual misconduct. These karmic accounts describe homosexuality as a congenital condition which cannot be altered, at least in a homosexual person's current lifetime, and have been linked with calls for compassion and understanding from the non-homosexual populace." Since 1989 gays are prohibited from being ordained.

Dalai Lama

The current Dalai Lama of Tibet interprets sexual misconduct to include lesbian and gay sex, and indeed any sex other than penis-vagina intercourse, including oral sex, anal sex, and masturbation. He also says "tantric sex" is only to be imagined in the mind.

Chinese Buddhism

In Chinese Buddhism, homosexuality is a third level sin punishable in one of the nine hells. Marie-Eve Blanc writes that "Mahayana Buddhism (as in China and Vietnam) is less tolerant than Theravada Buddhism (Thailand)."

Buddhism in the West

In contrast to Buddhism in Asia, modern Buddhism in the Western world is typically associated with liberal politics and a concern for social equality—partly as a result of its largely middle-class intellectual membership base, and its philosophical roots in freethought and secular humanism.