AKASHA - excerpt from earlier version of FIFTH GOSPEL - a novel - (ETERNAL GOSPEL)

IN THE BEGINING, in the fine airs of heaven, was written the Eternal Gospel, and the Gospel was with God and the Gospel was God. All things were written therein and without it there was not a thing written that was written. It speaks of the life, the life that is the light of men. This light that shines into darkness and is not understood by men is Christ, the true light, which enlightens every man. Christ came into the world and Christ is the Gospel and the Gospel was made by Him. But the world has understood it not.

I am the Akasha, the ancient breath of the spirit. Upon my airs is written the Gospel. I am the guardian of beginnings and endings; the possessor of the eternal knowledges and intelligences; keeper of hidden things. In future times, when wisdom has ripened in the soul, what I embody shall be seen and heard and known by every human heart. Now I give it only to those who are mine, and I will make them who see and and hear it to swear an oath, by heaven and earth and fire and water and the seven rulers of the substances and the creating spirit in them, that they will guard these things, for wrath will come to each one who violates it.

  It begins before the remote first making when the purest essence was lifted out from Adam and the purest essence was lifted out from Eve and taken to the sun to be tended and nurtured and loved. Inwardly luminous, morally chaste, unmixed with knowledge and worldliness and untouched by sin, this dual life creation, waited. Now did the sun gods know the earthly Eve and she begat Cain. The moon god, the Lord Jehova breathed life into the earthly Adam and separated him from Eve and man and woman created he them.

Thus was Paradise.

But Eve desired more than this eternal bliss. She was inquisitive, she sought a wisdom that was promised only by Lucifer and fell into his waiting arms. Adam who loved her followed and Lucifer opened both their earthly eyes to the world made by wisdom’s working…and at the same time passed a veil over their spirit eyes. 

Thus was the down-fall of man and woman.

On earth now Adam knew Eve and Eve through wisdom begat Abel and from that time onwards, Cain and Abel, sun and moon, fire and water, knowledge and wisdom, king and priest walked the earth, side by side.

Generations passed and the light of the spirit, which yet shone beyond the veil of darkness, grew dim. Forgotten were the fathers in the heavens, deserted were, therefore, the great sanctuaries of the mysteries in India and Persia in Memphis, Delphi and Eleusis, their altars lay broken and forsaken for the priests of the ancient oracles were no longer able to evoke the forms of the true gods.

Darkness of night held sway.

Selfishness ran free.

But the spirit light of the world was descending.

The mystics dreamt of a saviour.

In Egypt and Israel prophets foretold His coming.

In Chaldea astrologers began to calculate His arrival.

In Greece Sibyls, drunk on sulphurous fumes, swayed and danced to the portents of the last age.

Those who still remembered the echoes and the shadows of former days drew together in austere circles and waited with hope for the plague of deafness and lifelessness ravaging the earth to end.

What had long ago been taken from Eve-Adam and kept from the fall was male and female and the male formed a body garment for the coming God while the female part, descended to earth to prepare a womb for his birth.  

The world held a breath.

The task fell on the people of Abraham, those chosen by God to prepare this perfected body, the vessel for the Messiah.

When fourteen generations had passed, a king called David had two sons: to his first-born son Solomon, he gave the Kingdom; to his second son Nathan, he gave the Priesthood. And so those who yet possessed spirit sight presaged the birth of two children. The first child would be a wise, old soul, destined to enter into the womb of the oldest woman, Eve, from the lineage of Solomon. This child would be born first and would be known as the King of Kings. The second child would be a young soul untouched by sin, preserved from the fall and destined to enter into the womb of the youngest woman, a heavenly Eve, from the lineage of Nathan. This child would be called the Priest of Priests.

Because both children were destined to be the salvation of their people, they would be called Jesus; their fathers who would be lifted up by God would be named Joseph and their mothers, who were set to suffer a harsh fate, would be known as Mariam or Mary, according to the law - she who will suffer bitterness.  

Through the centuries successions of old Magi noted the skies with dreamy eyes, looking for the sign that would herald the birth of the Kingly child - a great conjunction of planets in the constellation of Pisces – an effulgent star.

In the depths of their souls generations of young Shepherds dreamt of the birth of a Priest, whose coming would be announced by the great choirs of heaven intoning melodies that would set a seal upon their souls in the image of a lamb.

At the turning point in time the Akasha, the imperishable substance upon which all things are written, spoke out from the heavens and into the heads and hearts of men. It rang out this word:

Awaken!

The Painter and the Shepherd

The painter had chosen the church because here the light was the most pure and the darkness the most profound. Without light, colour had no language with which to express its sentiments. Without darkness light could not find its forms.

His father had taught him how to use both.

After his father's death he had been sent a long way from home to become an artist under the wise guidance of another master whose skill he soon surpassed.

He had learnt many lessons. But one lesson his master could not teach him was the one lesson he needed to learn for himself.

He ate a sparse meal under the stars, listening to the lapping of the ocean. The stars told him of his spirit home. The sea told him of places far from Italy and the Urbino of his youth.

Tired from his travels he cleared a spot inside the old church and lay down. Looking at the darkened ribbed vaults he soon fell asleep. 

In the morning he awoke refreshed and began making ready the colours and set the linseed oil in a pan to cook over the little fire. He liked preparation, which to him was as important as the execution. While he organised himself he remembered Florence, where he met Leonardo the great painter, who already an old man, had taught him of darkness and light and the problem of the human skin. The great master too had a problem with faces. At Santa Marie de la Grazie he could not find a model for Judas and for years had worked to understand how to paint the darkness that was the absence of light inside Judas’ soul.

He did not achieve it.

The painter stirred his oil now, peaceful and composed. He was not a scientist like Leonardo who loved him, he was not a tortured man like Michelangelo who hated him. His life was simple and uncomplicated. He was loved and he loved in return. He owned no man and no man owed him. He had a belief that if God had chosen Him as painter of his works then he would also show him how to express his face through the language of light and dark. 

He would wait. 

The day was mild.  He took out the lime and made his way to the beach. He brought back sand to make the mortar. He sifted two parts sand with one part lime and wet it until it was the right consistency then he let it stand while he swept the walls. When they were clean he watered them down thoroughly and after that working the mortar with a trowel he plastered the mixture on a section of the walls to the right of the door. A small amount to begin with to get the plaster flat, then adding more to make it uneven and rough. 

When it was dry he took the charcoal in his hand and stood a moment thinking on what to draw when a figure blotted out the light coming through the door. 

It was a man, tall dark though he could not see the face. He came into the church and looked around. The painter could hear the sound of sheep moving beyond the gaping mouth of the church. 

The man sat down with his back to the ruined altar as if to peruse his art. He took an apple from a canvas bag and polished it on his clothing.

“You are like the Greeks you have no models,” he said.

The painter was puzzled and amused. He set down his charcoal and frowned coming nearer to the man. The light from the door fell on his face and the painter observed him more clearly. It was symmetrical, open, with almond shaped eyes, melancholy in their depths, framed by well-shaped brows, dark like his hair and beard beneath which full lips spread in a smile.

“The Greeks did not use models?” the painter asked the man.

“No.” The man said chewing, “They knew the laws that rule form and movement - the forces of life. They had a memory of the origins of balance and rhythm. They looked to the stars, the moving planets and knew from them concerning the heights. They looked to earth to the heaviness of the bones and they knew the depths..."

“But you are a shepherd. How does a shepherd know so much about painting?”

“When I see a rainbow I do not see colour but the sufferings and joys of light!”

The painter was spellbound. He sat down and fell to smiling.

“Yes...yes...and what is God?”

The other man finished his apple, “God is colour poised between darkness and light. When the sky is red it is His wrath which pours over the world, He knows our sins, our evils. Red is the judgement of God. In the trees the grass, the meadows, the verdant colour I find strength, it brings new life, health to the animals and calmness to the world. I feel Him within myself in green. In blue on the other hand He moves away from me. I want to follow Him to heaven. In yellow He radiates his warmth and life-giving power...He is like the sun ...”

Something moved in the painter’s heart. The man’s voice echoed in sympathy with his soul.

“Do you wish to understand how to paint God, is that it?” the man asked.

The painter nodded, “Yes. I want to paint how He is between darkness and light!”

“Then go to your wall. Begin.” 

“But...how shall I start...what shall I paint?”

The Shepherd made to go and looked behind his shoulder. "Start at the end...and paint Yourself!"