The Original Light of Creation

Today we have the final installment of Bob’s reflections on the Gospel of Thomas:

The final metaphor from the Gospel of Thomas that I want to try to make sense of is his distinction between ordinary light and the divine light from within that comes from creation before the Fall.  In saying 37 we hear this:  “His disciples asked him: When will you appear to us?  When will we see you?  Jesus replied: When you strip naked without shame and trample your clothing underfoot just as little children do, without being afraid.”

In a related passage, saying 70, “Jesus said: When you give rise to that which is within you, what you have will save you.  If you do not give rise to it, what you do not have will destroy you.”  And finally, in saying 85: “Jesus said: Adam came into being from enormous power and wealth, but he was not worthy of you, for had he been worthy of you he would not have died.”

In these passages Thomas’ Jesus addresses the central gospel concept of salvation, but as usual, with a different twist than the synoptic gospels.  Thomas distinguishes between the light before and after the Fall.  I believe he uses this common (to the people of his time at least) dividing line to make a Platonic point—if  we are in touch with eternal truths and with the world below the surface of appearances, we will transcend the limitations of ordinary experience, and like God’s immortal image we will live forever as the immortal image does.

I am reminded of an important idea from the academic field of ritual studies:  A central goal of many religious rituals is to put us into “original time and space,” to suspend everydayness and be transported back to the beginning.  In this state the wise child sees the world as it was, in a sense, before culture, before we acquired our judgmental categories such as the shame of nakedness.

Here also Thomas is not out of step with passages found in the Bible.  In saying 77a Jesus says, “I am the light above everything.  I am everything.  Everything came forth from me, and everything reached me.”  Besides suggesting a kind of pantheism, Thomas is affirming the creative power of Jesus in the beginning of creation, which echoes with passages such as John’s famous opening verses (“In the beginning was the Word and the Word was with God…”) or 1 Corinthians (“For us there is one Lord, Jesus Christ, through whom are all things and through whom we exist…”).

What about the how of the path to this difficult and remarkable rebirth?  I think Thomas’ strongest hint is to be found in one of the most enigmatic sayings in this collection, #97: “Jesus said: The Kingdom of the father is like a woman who was carrying a jar full of grain.  As she walked along a handle of her jar broke off and grain trickled out, but she didn’t notice.  When she arrived in her house, she put the jar down and found it empty.”

Remember our discussion that “the Kingdom is like…” a person doing something?  I think Thomas is suggesting here that the most important “doing” on the road to higher consciousness is not doing.  Many spiritual traditions recognize the importance of ending our striving, our ego-driven attempts to control our worlds, of “halting our monkey minds,” of emptying.  The Greek word for this process is kenosis.  Notice that the woman didn’t realize she was losing her grain (“mind”)—it happens best when we don’t try too hard or are too self-conscious.

Well.  I hope you’ve found that bearing with me for five rather dense days bears fruit, even if that fruit is nothing. At the least I’m sure you can see why The Gospel of Thomas appeals to philosophers and mystics. Cheers!