Jesus, the Christ: redemption, God, and modern discipleship: on the Christ within
A book excerpt from the spiritandflesh.com religion and spirituality online library.
The Christ is the center which is also the pinnacle, ever crucified into the new life, rising from the core of every plane, and pulling, like a great carpet, the entire cosmos upward. Like the topmost sprout of a growing pine tree, which appears as a cross, the Christ in all of us is the ever-changing form of an evolving humanity; the 'son of man' is the upward ascending yet earthbound rising newness, ever living and dying in, and as, the transforming flame of humanity's furthest reachings.
To be human is to be Christ, which is to be the intersection of the entire menagerie of visible and invisible realms, and to be bisected and constructed by the push and pull of these infinite, unique radiations of the cosmos. For the Christ is not a separate entity, nor is the Christ a separated entity, because the Christ is non-division itself, which is cosmic union, the marriage of all dualities. Christ is One, the Noah of now, carrying every pair of opposites across the tempest of spirit and into tomorrow. And this Christ is the absence which creates the whole, and therefore the Christ is the whole. The hole is the whole, which is the last stage of the microcosm, the last agony of separation, the last growth on the skyward tree. The blastema. The last to grow, the first in height. The first and the last.
And this Christ is not a person, for the Christ is the event of individual abdication of self-ownership, opening up into harmonious, sublime, undichotomized being, in which the unfoldment of life occurs synchronistically within and without the now unseparated individual, who is still individual.
Christ is the one within, who does not bother with mankind but trusts God in all things, which is the absolute surrender of personal interpretation, which is an offering that affirms "Thy Will be done", which is the end of the ego. For with the utterance of such a statement a person becomes disinterested- they lose interest- for to truly say "Thy Will be done" eliminates the possibility of interest, for what interest have they now in matters? What's done is done. They let it be, and fall away, and are set free without having done anything.
As such perhaps there is no such thing as a saint after all, for miracles are performed in the saint's presence because of their absolute faith in the infinite possibility of spirit. The saint does nothing, but only abdicates his or her being, thus creating the option for divinity to occur in their stead. And that very abdication is divinity's first act, wherein the chastening flame descends so as to eviscerate the unlucky candidate through whom the spirit desires to operate, and thus the saint dies so that God can live. But also God lives so that the saint can die.
Redemption is thus empty, and yet full of sacrifice, for the closer you come to yourself, to the force which creates you, and to happiness, the closer you come to the possibility of true sacrifice, for then you understand the value of what it is you relinquish- the cost to yourself to acquire it, and the subsequent cost to release it. But you know also the psychic economy of such a decision, and why it must be made, and why you will make it, and why you will be the only one who will ever know.
Back in the pious and puerile years of my becoming, I had not only uttered "Thy Will be done" on numerous occasions, without, at first, knowing the absoluteness of what that actually implied, but I also committed a sacrifice, by offering to God something which I cherished, as a trade so as to benefit another who was in great pain at the time. That was when I came to understand very quickly the power such an invitation possessed, for I had given up something, something dear and precious to me- in an attempt to help another. I did so because, at that time, I could do no other. I had no strength to stand in the face of human misery. If someone near me was suffering, I suffered as well. I had no walls, and that made me a perfect candidate for Christ to come flying in with his shotgun and create all the trouble that was to come after it.
I believe that sacrifice, which I made without ever intending to ignite Christ's chastening upon me, was the key which unlocked the door to many of the events which followed. Though, looking back, I am not certain whether I performed any sacrifice at all. For since all and everything is an emanation of the One Godhead, nothing is separate, nor is possessed by a person which does not belong already, and firstly, to God, and therefore there is no sacrifice possible, but only a giving back what is not ours in the first place.
No matter, I soon found myself asked to undertake a number of endeavors which were always confusing and hard to follow, though I followed as best I could. What I gather from my learnings is that we redeem others by ceasing to exist ourselves. What I mean is that once we are in contact with God, there is nothing left to do but be absent, and thus let God do as God will. To serve the Christ, then, is nothing more than self-elimination, and deserves no applause, and no praise, because it requires no talent, no decency, and no honorable characteristics. I should know, because I am a sinner.
However, in learning about the new non-role which I had been bequeathed, I was beginning to understand why life in the world had been so troublesome, so hazardous, and so futile to me. I was beginning to understand the horrible truth about vicarious atonement, about how in our emptiness we offer a void to all who are full of anguish, anger, and woe, and in doing so we become their anguish, anger, and woe. This was something which I soon realized I was not interested in, and so I had to find a way to keep one door open, and the other door closed.
In the midst of mankind's confusion, I had to become like a one-way valve, empty and open to God within, and yet shielded and guarded against the chaos without; I had to let God out onto the world, but not let the world back into me.
That was the trick, to be like a physician in a leper's den- to touch without being touched myself. Because to let God pull another out of the claws of death, through me, meant to go down into their death without dying, and to care for them without caring for them. It was to hold a line between life and death, upon which to let God regularly descend and ascend, and slowly, ever slowly, coax them back up, while never turning away from life myself, never changing my direction nor stride but only for a second to stop, let God go down into them for a moment, and then climb back up while I was still living. Only in this way could they be whisked out of the clutches of the reaper.
For to redeem another without incurring trespass is to witness non-division with humility; it is to stand amongst them in your emptiness, to look them in the eyes without yourself, so that their God within can awaken, and their love can spill forth everywhere.
(excerpted from Roots and Wings: adventures of a spirit on earth, by Jack Haas)