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The
Cry, the Bridge, the Spirit
Man
is dual. All gnostic and hermetic writings, which form one testimony
to the great possibilities in the human being, refer to this. All
gnosis teaches the human being that he is essentially a god. The
reality of his life and modern science, however, make it hard for
him to grasp this idea.
The modern human
being only believes what he can see, measure or explain to others,
supported by proof. The spiritual sciences have lost the central
place that they still had at the beginning of the modern era.
Despite this development, human beings are again and again
fascinated to discuss what is superhuman, God, the spirit. From the
frontiers of science, where scientists are confronted with the
paradoxes of their systems of reasoning, new impulses penetrate
scientific thinking.
Is it a divine-spiritual aspect that drives human
beings? Or is it the curiosity of the young, playful mind that
sounds out the limits of its domain? The mere fact that these
questions continuously occupy human beings shows that they cannot
easily be answered. Apparently, the mind has its limits; there are
apparently realms in which the mind is not nor can be an authority.
Worldwide, many writings point out that the human being
carries a spiritual sun in the centre of his system. Once this
principle was active and even guided the human being. Nowadays, he
is looking for it, or he ignores that he ever possessed it.
The Russian philosopher Nicolai Berdyayev wrote: ‘The
contrast between spirit and nature must be considered a fundamental
one. […] The spirit is not a reality at all and is not
‘‘being’’ in the way in which being and reality are
considered in nature.’1
He explains that everything belonging to the human
being of this nature -- and this refers to the soul as well as to
the physical body -- is of this world and is only different from the
animal as to content and quality. The spiritual human being,
however, the original, true essence of the human being, belongs to a
totally different reality. At this point, the question immediately
crops up whether the spirit is at all active in this world.
Berdyayev says about this: ‘Only in unimaginable depths, the
spirit takes up the world and causes another light to radiate over
it.’2
This is why the spirit also touches the ‘small
world’, the microcosm, of the human being in unimaginable depths
only. If the human being has insight, he sees this touch by the
spirit as the cause of his longing. However, it is a false guide
when the longing does not focus on the spirit, but on its reflection
in matter. The human being is seeking paradise, but if he does not
‘know’, he becomes ever more entangled in the jungle of his
cultivated and civilised natural world.
Spirit and symbol
In his book Freedom and spirit, Nicolai
Berdyayev describes the difference between spirit and nature by a
quote from V L Solovyov: ‘Everything visible here on earth is only
reflection, is only the shadow of what is invisible to the eye.’
3
He continues that our natural world does not know any
depth, but receives purpose and meaning from another world, the
world of the spirit. In accordance with the hermetic statement ‘as
above, so below’, this also applies to the nature-born human
being. With all his power of perception, he is so bound to the
natural world, the ‘reflection’, that the eternal, spiritual
element in his innermost depth is nothing more than a suspicion.
In order for the spiritual aspect to be able to reach
him in such a way that he at least understands something, the
language of symbols is used. Only through this language, we can
recognise that which ‘is invisible to the eye’. Archetypical
images in the collective subconscious of humanity stimulate the
longing for the spiritual world, the origin of humanity.
The symbol of the spiritual aspect is like a bridge
that is crossed to reach the people in this world. Deep longing
leads the human being on this bridge, which is to him the first
opportunity to cross the chasm between nature and spirit.
The
Babylonian confusion of tongues
The original meaning of the spiritual symbols perishes
in a multifaceted lack of clarity. At the same time, symbols are
light and energy. Who does still possess the sensitivity to be able
to recognise vibrating energy in symbols? Although the light power
of the spirit appeals to the origin, to the slumbering consciousness
of the divine human being, we often come up with our own
interpretations that appear to be very mental or are far too
emotional to be powerful. These individual reactions shatter the
light into myriads of particles and split it ever further. With our
natural powers, we are only able to recognise fragments.
These individual reactions and the resulting ambiguity
cause a ‘Babylonian confusion of tongues’, in which the meaning
of the symbolic language of the spirit drowns. In the Biblical
story, the beginning of this decline is experienced, and it is
attempted to counteract its effect and consequences by building the
famous Tower of Babel.
There are, therefore, two ways of reacting to the
symbols of the spirit. When we try to explain and systematise what
is unimaginable, disharmony with the energy that touches us inwardly
develops. When we listen to its resonance that, in Berdyayev’s
words, resounds in the ‘unimaginable depth’, understanding, a
‘harmonious vibration’, awakens in our inner being.
Many attempts and disappointments make us conscious of
the chasm between spirit and nature. As has been said above, the
symbols of the spirit may serve as a bridge that leads us partly
across the chasm. Then the bridge ends above the middle of the
chasm. We do not yet see the second part. The human being who is
standing on this bridge, can reach this point because he carries the
divine human being as a feasible possibility within him. The human
being learns to see himself as a sleeping God.

Edvard Munch.
The Cry (Despair), Oslo, 1893.
In this psychological self-portrait by Munch,
it is quite remarkably the landscape that is crying;
the figure on the bridge can no longer cope with this accusation.
In his painting
‘The cry’, Edvard Munch has shown the human distress on this
bridge: it is the human being who hears the cry of distress of
nature with which he is one. This image evokes a strong aversion in
a human being and at the same time, he is almost magically attracted
to it. The cry is an autobiographic document; it shows Edvard
Munch’s chronic fear of life. It is related to a concrete feeling
that Munch described as follows in his diary:
‘I walked in the street with two friends, the sun was
setting -- I sensed a melancholic mood -- and the sky suddenly
coloured crimson. I stopped and, dead tired, leaned against a fence,
saw the flaming clouds like blood and swords -- the dark blue fjord
and the city -- my friends continued, while I stood there trembling
with fear -- and I felt how a long, never-ending cry rent nature.’
Halfway this bridge we realise that we, beings of this
nature, do not know anything and do not have any power in a
liberating sense: ‘I stopped and, dead tired, leaned against a
fence.’ With growing desperation, we try to awaken the sleeping
God within us and to urge him to action, for only he can cross the
bridge and the chasm.
Divine mercy
But
the cry is not answered; standing on the bridge above the chasm, the
human being discovers that the missing part of the bridge surrounds
him and guides him onward as it were. The striving human being above
the chasm understands that only divine mercy has the power to awaken
the sleeping God in the human being. Now the re-awakened spiritual
human being enters the new life. Paul describes this with the words:
‘The unspiritual man does not receive the gifts of the Spirit of
God, for they are folly to him, and he is not able to understand
them because they are spiritually discerned. It is sown a physical
body, it is raised a spiritual body.’
4
Sources:
1
Nicolai Berdyayev, Freedom and Spirit, New York, 1934.
2
ibid.
3
ibid.
4 1
Corinthians 2:14 and 15:44.
©
Lectorium Rosicrucianum 2007.
Article
from Pentagram No 2, 2007 |