The Spirit Of Truth

The “upper room discourse,” comprises chapters 13-17 of the “Gospel of John,” and has no real equivalent in any of the other Gospels.  It is by far the most extended conversation between Jesus and his disciples found in any of our four canonical Gospels.  By style and content, this dialogical discourse clearly appears to be a composition by the author whom we know as “John.”   The man wrote the discourse out of his mystical experience of the presence of Christ to him, with him, in him.  If one doubts the origin in a mystical union, read the passages slowly and prayerfully, and see if they do not speak to your own union with Christ; they cannot be understood by private, secular, inner-worldly “reason,” but are communicated by the Spirit to a man or woman attuned to “the Spirit of truth.”  Apart from spiritual attunement (which is a living union with God), these words make little or no sense. A truly spiritual human being from any tradition who reads these words will feel at home in them. They are one of the mystical masterpieces in all of literature. 

That the discourse is set on the verge of Christ’s death is highly significant:  they are presented as his parting words, his final conversation with his inner circle of disciples—and hence with those of us who are his intimate friends, living on the edge of eternity.  And these words have much meaning to a man or woman who is aware of existing between time and eternity, and  striving to live in communion with Christ, with the divine reality that he makes present.  If your heart and mind are set primarily on fulfillment in this present life—possessions, wealth, status, family—these words will sound like “double-talk,” or “nonsense,” as I have heard one clergyman characterize them.  Again, what is engendered out of communion with God must be understood by someone living in that same spiritual tension—life stretching into eternity beyond death. Otherwise, they are only words to be believed or not, rather than an analysis of existence in Christ—that is, of a genuine spiritual life. 

The discourse spoken and heard between time and eternity leaves no doubt that the genuine Christian life, lived in accordance with the spirit of truth, the holy Spirit, is not what is often peddled by the churches:  “If you believe in Jesus, you are saved; if you do not believe in Jesus, you are going to hell.”  The variations of this over-simplification and distortion of spiritual truth depend on the particular denomination; the Catholic variety is more often “receive the Sacrament, and be saved; miss Mass and be damned.”  If verses in John’s Gospel can be lifted out of context and be used by peddlers of a vulgarized Christianity, the dialogical discourse spoken by the Word within the attentive, loving mind serves to reground the disciple in the truth of divine-human communion:  “Yet a little while and the world will behold me no more, but you will behold [or, gaze upon] me, because I live and you will live.  In that day you will know that I am in my Father, and you are in me, and I in you.”  The word “behold” or “gaze upon” is not a seeing with bodily eyes, but an inner awareness of divine presence.  The mutual indwelling or communion of the divine with the human is accomplished not by “religious beliefs,” or even by faith alone, but by mutual love.  On the human side of the partnership, this love is not a sentimental feeling, but utter obedience to will of God:  “He who has my commandments and keeps them, he it is who loves me…If one loves me, he will keep my word, and my Father will love him, and we will come to him, and make our home with him….” 

God is at home in the one at home in God. The dwelling place of God is in the soul or consciousness of the faithful-loving disciple, who humbly contemplates the word of Christ, who keeps his word, doing God’s will.  The cult of worshiping God in the Temple has been replaced by the simplicity of reverencing God in one’s heart through listening to the Word and incarnating the word in the world through loving action.  The Creator-God is also the Saving-God, at home and at work in the obedient disciple, through whom Christ continues his transforming Presence in the human community.  Truth is not a collection of doctrinal formulations, but a process of becoming one in faithful love with the one who “loved us to the end.” 

On "The Good Shepherd"

“Symbol” comes from the Greek word symbolein, literally meaning “to throw together,” or “to bring together.”  Symbols united reality.  In the case of our language about God, symbols are intended to bring together the divine and the human.  Despite claims in popular culture, God and humankind are not identical:  one is the cause, the other is an effect of that cause; the divine is wholly free from space-time, whereas we human beings exist in space-time.  To communicate anything about divine reality, symbols are needed.  And among these symbols are words, or language symbols, as well as gestures, art, and music.  Symbols are needed for mind to communicate with mind. 

All of our language about Jesus is symbolic, and needs to be properly interpreted. A mind must search for the meaning intended by another mind.  To understand the meaning of word symbols requires mental effort.  Most of us have learned that many people put insufficient effort into seeking to understand someone’s meaning.  Often we think we understand the words of another, but we do not, or we “do not know as we ought to know,” using St. Paul’s phrase. The evangelists employed language symbols to communicate to ancient readers the truth and beauty of their experience of “life in Christ Jesus.”  These writers felt so much joy and spiritual renewal through their union with God in Christ, that they wanted to share their joy, and did so by writing down their thoughts and circulating them.  The evangelist John, a master in the use of language symbols, has Christ Jesus declare:  “I have come that you may have Life—Life more abundantly.”  Clearly that is the evangelist’s experience of what he has found through faith-union with Christ. 

One must seek to understand word-symbols in light of the experiences of the one speaking or writing.  As any adult knows, the word “love” has vastly different meanings, depending on the one using the word, on the occasion, on the intention of the one speaking.  One way that the evangelist John sought to communicate his experience of Christ was by using the Jewish symbol of God as the good shepherd, as in the 23rd psalm, “The LORD is my shepherd, I shall not want….”  The evangelist experienced himself being guided, tended, shepherded by God in and through his faith-response to Christ.  In calling Jesus “the Good Shepherd,” the evangelist tells us that he experiences the love and providential care of God in and through the Resurrected Christ.  “I will not leave you orphans, I will come to you,” John writes, speaking for the Resurrected. “I am the vine, you are the branches.”  “I am the good shepherd, who lays down his life for his sheep.”  “I am the Way, the Truth, and the Life; no one comes to the Father, except through me.”  All such expressions written by the evangelist John testify to his experience of God through his loving faith-union with the Risen Christ. 

And whom, we may ask, does God shepherd in Christ?  A reasonable answer would be:  everyone who allows God to rule and to guide him into true Life.  Potentially, this includes every human being.  But each of us has discovered in ourselves an ability to turn away, to rebel, or simply to ignore the silent, subtle promptings of God as he seeks to shepherd us. We are not likened to sheep because we are wise, prudent, and understanding, but because we “often go astray like sheep,” to use the language of Deutero-Isaiah.  (Perhaps we can even at times be justly likened to mules, “who must be driven to pasture by blows.”  Can you ever be like a mule?)

To call Christ “the good shepherd” is a way of saying that he is the rightful, just ruler over humankind—over and in all human beings potentially, and actually over those who submit to his gentle and wise rule.  All who “do the will of my Father” belong to Christ.  Ultimately, as St. Thomas Aquinas wrote, Christ is the head over all of humanity.  He is not the head of one group only, or of some “elected” or “saved” individual beings, but over each and all of us, from the beginning of history to the end.  That is why we call Christ “LORD.”  He is the beginning and end of each one of us, and of all of us together. To you, to me, to everyone, the Risen One says:  “You are mine.  I have give my life for you, so that you may know true love, peace, and happiness.”  Such is Jesus, “the good shepherd.”

What Is The Gospel Telling Us?

“Familiarity breeds contempt.”  Yes, it may.  In the realm of the spirit, familiarity can more likely breed dullness or staleness, an unwillingness to question or to think, a belief that if one just “believes” what is said, that suffices, and then one can be left “free” to live as one wishes. Then “religious belief” becomes a comfortable way to keep distant from God:  perhaps useful as “fire insurance,” but of little or no effect in one’s daily life.  That is comfortable for those who want spiritual “comfort” above all else.  And it is safe indeed for those who want “blessed assurance,” and “home security.” 

           

For all of us, the Gospel stories about Jesus have become so familiar, that we do not hear them as fresh and alive.  We may not even try to listen, but indulge in comforting daydreaming when the Gospels are read, or the homily is preached.  Part of the problem for clergy in preparing to preach on this Sunday’s passage from the Gospel of John, and for lay folks who hear it, is that much of  this Gospel has been simplified and incorporated into diverse teachings of the Church, and these teachings in turn serve to keep one from hearing the Word sounding within.  Jesus’ words to “Receive the Holy Spirit” becomes a formula to the Apostles, who in turn become a means to guarantee the security and longevity of the institutional church, “founded on the Apostles.” 

On the other hand, to listen with faith requires that one’s mind is open, that one is searching, asking questions, with an ongoing awareness that one really does not know well the truth of God.  “If you think you know, you do not know as you ought to know,” as the Apostle Paul wrote in words that sound genuinely Socratic—and wise. With an attentive, engaged mind, one actually listens to what is being said here and now, not primarily to what one thinks was said years ago to saintly men and women entombed in a book.  In other words, you are the one being addressed.  The living word of God is always personal, always from the mind of God to the mind of an attentive human being.  In the recurring words of Orthodox liturgy:  “Be attentive; holy things for the holy.” 

Let’s take next Sunday’s gospel, the famous Emmaus Road story, to show how to listen to what the Gospel says to you.  One needs to listen to the story in all of its details, and then, in effect, activate the same fundamental experience embodied in the story in one’s own soul or consciousness.  Not to let the story engage one spiritually or existentially is not to hear it as it was intended to be heard: to bring one into living contact, right now, with the God of Jesus Christ. 

We discuss matters, but rarely about God or Christ or how to live well, but probably about food, politics, sports, ranching, weather, grand-children, sports. Not often do I hear two parishioners speak about God’s actions in the world, although occasionally one remarks on the beauties of creation unfolding before our eyes.  God in nature seems to speak even to those who have not yet discovered God breaking into consciousness. Now, how would Christ encounter those whose eyes are cast down, and whose minds are not attending to the things of God at this moment?  How could that which we call “Christ” press in?  Where is the opening in the discussion to be encountered by the Risen One—especially when there is no rational discussion which the Lord may be moving guiding?  If one is not attending to the divine in some form, how does God break in? 

Later on, perhaps many years later, someone may realize that God was actually at work, but it was unseen, perhaps unwanted at the time—as dark and as unnoticed as mint roots growing under earth in winter.  And then perhaps someone will remember and bring into consciousness that of which one had been barely conscious at all.  “There was something about that experience that I have not felt since.  What was it?  Somehow it was there, and I missed it.  Why?  What was I thinking?  Or was I thinking at all?”  In a moment, walking along a wooded path, a glint of light stretches out of the sky, and strikes the rock.  Something happens.  One then becomes aware of the reality of what had not seemed real, of the presence of that which had felt utterly absent. 

If that does not arrest you, consider this week’s Gospel.  When did you last turn and recognize the presence of God as Christ breaking into consciousness?

Afterlife or Eternal Life

Every religious-spiritual tradition of which I know includes within it two distinct ways of life:  the social and religious traditions, publicly celebrated; and its hidden or mystical life, often practiced by only a few, and in solitude.  The outward, religious side of Catholicism is rich, having developed over some 20 centuries, not counting our roots in Jewish ritual, practices, and beliefs, nor in those of the Hellenistic world which were incorporated Into Catholic practice and belief in the early centuries. The liturgies of Holy Week are not only the high point of the Church year, but in my opinion, the most meaningful and beautiful services that Christianity has to offer.  The center decisively on the suffering, death, and Resurrection of Jesus Christ—as does every Eucharistic celebration, but often in more muted tones, especially if drowned out by the kind of loud and busy, often social-activist services so common in our country today.

The mystical life of the Church is essentially one with mysticism in other forms, because it is utterly simple: the individual human being seeks internal growth in holiness (the purification of spirit) in order to become one with that which we by tradition call “God.”  This process is the growth in love and virtues, even to the point in which one seeks to dissolve his or her own ego or self into divine Presence. St. Paul said it well: “Now I live, yet not I [ego], but Christ lives in me.”  He kept renouncing himself, his own will, in order to allow the Risen Christ to live in him and through him. That is the pattern of the mystical life. It is the goal of our Catholic faith, at least as taught by the saints of the Church, but unfortunately, has often been neglected for more external, ritualistic religion, or for social “activism” of one kind or another. Anything is easier than dissolving one’s ego into the abyss of divine love.

If one lives only as a practicing Catholic in the external forms, and does not develop an internal spiritual life, one will not understand the meaning of eternal life. For outwardly religious Catholics, eternal life is usually misunderstood as afterlife, as something that happens to one after one dies. Hence, the celebration of Christ’s Resurrection (Easter) for example, is thought to be about what happens to people when they die. Even Christ’s Resurrection is externalized into stories and beliefs that sound more like a resuscitated corpse—more like Lazarus—than the  experience of the Risen Christ in the psyches (consciousness) of selected men and women. In this sense, Catholic religious belief is not essentially different from that of ancient Egyptians, or Greeks, who had stories about life in the “underworld,” and how to escape the “lake of fire” and get to “paradise” or “heaven” in some way. For many people, including for some of our faithful Catholics, it seems that they believe that “getting to heaven” is the goal of life, and what “religion” has to offer. One theological mind called this kind of religion “fire insurance.”

Eternal life is not essentially “afterlife,” nor is it a form of speculation on some kind of futuristic existence beyond death. The term “eternal life” was coined by the Greek philosopher Plato, and it would have had some currency by the time of Christ. It means true life, a life that is true because one practices dying to self, especially in yielding up one’s opinions for truth, and one’s selfish passions for the rule of reason in the soul and in one’s actions.  Eternal life is a life of openness to the divine Presence, that “eternalizes” or “immortalizes” the soul from within. At the end of his Ethics, Aristotle notes that the purpose of genuine life is “immortalizing,” and it comes from attunement to the divine mind. This is experientially equivalent to what the Apostle Paul means by “Christ lives in me.” Life in union with God is eternal life, here and now, and it is true life.  “This is eternal life: to know You, the only true God, and Jesus Christ whom You sent,” using the language of St. John’s Gospel. God’s Life, beyond space-time, is eternal, forever. 

Holy Week

 We remember what God has done for us and for all human beings in and through the death and Resurrection of Jesus Christ. We remember with love and gratitude what Jesus Christ willingly suffered for us.  We remember God’s action in Christ, and we resolve to live in and for the one “who loved us, and loved us to the end.” 

These are the high holy days of the Church of Christ:  Passion (Palm) Sunday; Holy Thursday with the Mass of the Lord’s Supper; the Good Friday liturgy; the Easter Vigil of the Lord’s Resurrection; and Easter Sunday, the joyful celebration that “God has raised Christ from the dead.” We who love Christ Jesus suffer, die, and rise with him.

I urge our parishioners to attend each of the liturgies of Holy Week.  Each service is unique, and repeated only once a year, in a somewhat different form or style, depending on the celebrant and ministers. All of the liturgies of Holy Week focus on the suffering, death, and Resurrection of Christ, but each with its own emphasis:  On Passion (Palm) Sunday, we are presented with an overview of the climatic events of Christ’s life through the reading of the entire Passion narrative.  On Holy Thursday, our attention is drawn to Jesus’ Last Supper, in which he interpreted for us the meaning of the Passion, symbolized under the form of bread and wine, and symbolized in Christ’s washing the feet of his disciples:  death in love for each and for all.  On Good Friday, we remember the suffering and death of Jesus by listening to the Passion narrative from the Gospel of John, and we experience our gratitude and willingness to share in Christ’s suffering as we venerate the cross and receive holy communion. 

 Holy Week reaches its dramatic high point in the Easter Vigil, the most beautiful and meaningful liturgy celebrated by the Catholic Church. “This is the night when Christ rose triumphant” from death. This is also the night when the faithful renew their faith and commitment to Jesus Christ, to the community of disciples through space and time, to all of our fellow human beings, and to creation itself. This is the night when we receive with joy new members into the Body of Christ, celebrated through baptism, confirmation, and holy Eucharist.  The Masses of Easter Sunday continue the celebration of Christ’s Resurrection, and invite each of the faithful present to renew his baptismal vows.  So beautiful and rich in meaning is the Resurrection of Christ from the dead that we continue this feast through 50 days of Eastertide, up to the Feast of Pentecost. 

We all live busy lives, but I invite and urge all of our people to “come to the waters,” to enter into these liturgies with faith and loving attentiveness, in order to be renewed from within by the unsurpassable gift of the Holy Spirit.  We present ourselves to the Lord, open ourselves to his word, resolve to follow Christ faithfully all the days of our lives, and we participate afresh in the inflowing of the Holy Spirit—God’s loving Presence in us, for us, with us. 

Selected Passages For Meditation

There is interest in our adult faith class to learn meditation, and hesitation or real difficulties in learning to contemplate in silence without words. So I will select some passages from our Scriptures and other spiritual texts to assist you in learning to meditate actively.  Here is how to use these passages: choose one passage for a given session.  Read it over several times, until it is clearly in your mind. Then turn off the light, ask God to assist you, and think about the passage. The goal is to listen to what God might be saying to you in and through these words, stories, images. A session could last about 10-15 minutes initially, about 30 minutes as you get more skilled and comfortable with it. This exercise is intended as “training wheels” towards silent contemplation. You already pray in words. This exercise uses your mind both to think about what the words mean, and to listen for what God may be telling you. Towards the end of the session, you may usefully distill your thoughts in a single, crisp sentence, pulling the session together.  Give thanks to God for assistance. I recommend that you keep still, upright, alert throughout this meditation, to serve the better for concentration, and to move you towards the silence of God. Here are a few passages with which you may begin. Or, you could select your own from the bible or other spiritual texts.

(1). “Philip said to Jesus, `Lord, show us the Father, and we will be satisfied.’  Jesus said to him, `Have I been with you all of this time, Philip, and you still do not know me?  Whoever has seen me has seen the Father.  So how can you say, `Show us the Father?’ Do you not believe that I am in the Father and the Father is in me?”  (John 14:8-10a)

(2).  “Be still, and know that I am God:  I am exalted among the nations, I am exalted on the earth.”  (Psalm 46)

(3).  “O God, you are my God, I seek you.  My soul thirsts for you, my flesh faints for you, as in a dry and weary land without water.”  (Psalm 63)

(4).  “Jesus asked his disciples, `Who do you say that I am?’  Peter answered him, `You are the Christ.’  And Jesus charged them to tell no one about him.” (Mark 8:29-30)

(5).  “Jesus said, `For judgment I came into this world, that those who do not see may see, and that those who see may become blind.’ Some of the Pharisees near him heard this, and they said to Jesus, `Are we also blind?’  Jesus said to them, `If you were blind, you would have not guilt; but now that you say, `We see,’ your guilt remains.” (John 9:39-41)

(6). “This is the judgment:  that the light has come into the world, and men loved darkness rather than light, because their deeds were evil.  For every one who does evil hates the light and does not come to the light lest his deeds should be exposed.  But he who does what is true comes to the light, that it may be clearly seen that his deeds have been wrought in God.” (John 3:19-21)

 (7). “Jesus said to Simon, `Launch out into the deep, and let down your nets for a catch….’ When Simon Peter saw the great catch of fish, he fell down at Jesus’ knees, saying, `Depart from me, O LORD, for I am a sinful man.’” (Luke 5:1-8, passim)

(8). “Jesus said to Mary Magdalene, `Woman, why are you weeping? Whom do you seek?’ Supposing him to be the gardener, she said to him, `My lord, if you have carried him away, tell me where you have laid him, and I will take him away.’ Jesus said to her, `Mary. She turned around and said to him in Hebrew, `Rabboni!’ (which means, Teacher)…” (John 20:11-18, passim)

(9). “Jesus stopped, and commanded that the blind man be brought to him; and when he came near, Jesus asked him, `What do you want me to do for you?’ He said, `Lord, let me receive my sight.’  Jesus said to him, `Receive your sight; your faith has made you well.’ And immediately the man received his sight and followed Jesus, glorifying God; and all the people, when they saw it, gave praise to God.” (Luke 18:35-43, passim)

(10). “Be still before the Lord and wait in patience; do not fret at one who prospers.” (Psalm 37:7) 

(11). “ The thirst [craving] of a heedless person grows like a wild vine; he runs from life to life, like a monkey seeking fruit in the forest.”  (Dhammapada #334)

(12).  “Through meditation wisdom is won; through lack of meditation wisdom is lost.  Let a man who knows this double the path of gain and loss so conduct himself that wisdom may grow.” (Dhammapada #282)

(13). “Come now, friend, turn aside for a while from your daily employment, escape for a moment from the tumult of your thoughts.  Put aside your weighty cares, let our burdensome distractions wait; free yourself awhile for God, and rest awhile in him.  Enter the inner chamber of your soul, shut out everything except God, and that which can help you in seeking him, and when you have shut the door, seek him.”  (Proslogion of St. Anselm, chap 1)

(14).”O Lord my God, teach my heart where and how to seek you, where and how to find you. Lord, if you are here but absent, where shall I seek you?  But you are everywhere, so you must be here; why then do I not see you?  Surely you dwell in light inaccessible—where is it?  and how can I have access to light which is inaccessible?” (Proslogion, chapter 1)

(15). “Lord, you are not only that than which nothing greater can be thought; you are also greater than can be thought.”  (Proslogion, chap 15)

(16). “Everywhere you are entirely present, yet I cannot see you.  In you I move and have my being, and I cannot come to you.  You are within me and around me, and I have no experience of you.”  (Proslogion, chap 16)

"I AM the Resurrection and the Life"

The readings for the 5th Sunday of Lent, Year A, which we hear today, are clearly intended to lead us directly to the celebration of Holy Week:  to the Passion of Jesus Christ, his death on the cross, and the Resurrection.  The Gospel heard today is the famous story of the raising of Lazarus from the dead, an event only mentioned in St. John’s Gospel; there is no clear parallel in the Synoptic Gospels (Matthew, Mark, Luke), although each Gospel has a story of someone being resuscitated from death by Jesus.  Last week we read the story of the healing of the man born blind, which is, as I tried to explain in the homily, a picture of God recreating (restoring) humanity to our original goodness, and opening the soul to “sight,” that is, to living trust in the presence of God.  The story of the raising of Lazarus is not primarily about our recreation by God in Christ, but is about at least three essential truths:  (1) that God in Christ has power over death; (2) that the raising of Lazarus strongly contrasts with the Resurrection of Jesus; and (3) the contrast between what we call “afterlife” and what John calls “eternal life.”  We consider each point briefly. 

 

 (1) On the literal level of the story of Jesus raising the dead man, Lazarus, back to life in this world, one main meaning is obvious:  that God-in-Christ has power over life and death.  Not even physical death can limit the free action of divine creativity and goodness.  Out of his mercy and with divine power over all forces, Christ calls Lazarus back to life in this world:  “Lazarus, come forth!”  And the previously dead man, whose bodily life is now restored, comes out of the tomb.  “Unbind him and let him go.”  Christ unbinds the man Lazarus from the chains of death, and sets him free to live physically.  This is the kind of life his sisters, Mary and Martha, wanted Jesus to restore.   

 (2) By the placement of the story right near the end of John’s “Book of Signs” (chapter 11) of his Gospel, and hence just before the beginning of the Last Supper and Passion narrative, the evangelist intends to show us what the Resurrection of Christ is not.  Lazarus becomes a resuscitated corpse, a physical body brought back to life in space-time, and hence subject to suffering, and to dying once again in the body.  The Gospels present the Resurrected Christ through stories that are physically embellished to allow us to grasp with faith that the crucified Christ is truly Risen and is Lord.  John uses the physical to communicate the spiritual, just as in the Eucharist, we use bread and wine to communicate the spiritual Presence of Christ in and with his body, the Church—that is, the faithful gathered here and now, the community of disciples. If Jesus’ Resurrection were no more than an event equivalent to his raising of Lazarus, then he would have to die again, would be limited by space and time in his actions, and would constantly be suffering, as all sentient beings suffer. “But now is Christ risen,” and that risen Life is free from all limitations of space-time, free from suffering, free from death, because it is completely a sharing in the Life of God.  In the One to whom all are alive, Jesus Christ is Risen and Lord (proclaimed at every Eucharist, celebrated especially in Eastertide). 

 (3) As for the difference between “afterlife” and “eternal life,” that contrast is drawn out in the fascinating dialogue between Jesus and Lazarus’ sisters, especially with Martha.  “Your brother will rise,” says the Christ. “I know he will rise at the Last Day,” Martha responds, with good Pharisaical-Jewish belief in a Resurrection after death. To Martha’s creedal religious belief, Jesus replies with one of his thunderbolts intended to pierce through the veil and haze of Martha’s religious beliefs, right into the depth of her spirit: “I AM the Resurrection and the LIFE.  He who lives and believes in me…. will never die.Do you believe this?”  Jesus has indeed pierced the cloudy mind of Martha, who wants to put off into an afterlife our sharing in divine Life. This attitude remains common in Christianity (and in Islam) to this day. But Christ has something far better in store for those who open their minds and hearts to his life-giving word: “I AM…the Life.”  To believe in Christ, truly to trust in him, is to open up to the eternal I AM flowing into the depths of one’s heart and mind NOW.  “Not tomorrow, not today, but NOW.”  As with Plato who had coined the phrase, “eternal life” several centuries before Christ, so with John of the Gospel (and the Apostle Paul):  to “have eternal life” is to share now and forever in the life of the deathless One, the divine Presence in whom there is no darkness or death.  As St. Luke has Jesus say, “God is not the God of the dead, but of the living; for to God, all are alive.” Period.  Not fancy stories, not myths, not rituals, but just the utterly simple reality of the divine I AM.