Tobias Churton - 24 Oct

I dedicate this book with love to my wife, Joanna,

and daughter, Merove, with thanks to the

Brethren of Alexandria-Washington Lodge No. 22,

Alexandria, Virginia, and with hope to all the

St. Johns Men and Women of today and tomorrow.

THE MYSTERIES OF JOHN THE BAPTIST

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

This book would not have happened but for the kindness and forbearance of the members of Alexandria-Washington Lodge No 22, Alexandria, Virginia; in particular Past Master Douglas Wood, former Director of Communications at the George Washington Masonic Memorial in Alexandria. This famous Lodges warm invitations to me to cross the Atlantic to speak have proved strangely inspirational, this book being the first fruit.

Inspiration comes to the prepared mind: a lifetimes study of mysticism and esoteric theology was never in my mind supposed to be buried in the esoteric world alone. I always intended to return to the canonical sources with renewed interest and perception: a golden key to open the mysteries of the kingdom of heaven; such has been the case.

I am reminded of how well I was taught the rudiments of biblical scholarship, both at school and at university. The following names ring out for special mention: divinity teacher Trevor Harding (who encouraged me to return to school with the tantalizing promise of opening my mind after I had left for a craft apprenticeship, aged fifteen); Canon Aleric Rose, rector, fine scholar, bibliophile, and sincere Christian; Canon John Fenton, then theology tutor at Christchurch, Oxford; Old Testament specialist Rex Mason of Regents Park College, Oxford; and master of ancient Near Eastern texts Prof. John Day of Lady Margaret Hall. My wits have been further sharpened by encounters with the late master of Gnostic studies Hans Jonas, the unforgettable Gilles Quispel, the intriguingly provocative Elaine Pagels, and the late head of Uppsala Universitys theological faculty Jan-Arvid Hellstrm.

Above all, I thank my late parents, Patricia and Victor Churton. They furnished me with all I needed to embark on a lifetimes theological and mystical quest for truth.

That which inspired John inspired them, and inspired me.

CONTENTS

PREFACE

I seldom cease to be amazed by the extraordinary wealth of esoteric knowledge to be found in the Bible. That word found is of course the key: Seek and ye shall find is a master watchword; do not expect to find anything if you wait to be shown. As I grew up, I was always struck by how much religious instruction came secondhand. No one really wants secondhand parents; likewise we should not be satisfied by anything less than a genuine relationship with the One who draws our imaginations onward to the truth we seek. We need to experience truth in ourselves; if it is not our truth, both gift and possession, it is of little value: parrot-talking is the language of the moral bigot who knows what is right for everyone else but does not know himself, fearing exposure to the spiritual light. Laws are walls built to protect us; spiritual truths are doors to the unknown. Hence, the fear of God is the beginning of all understanding: this is the fear that enables us to enter the unknown.

Congregations customarily receive the word; consequently the word seldom acquires profound levels of meaningfulness for the receiver. People often hang on to beliefs like talismans, fearing offense, as if the talisman might shatter if touched by the unknown. Has there ever been a society more fearful of causing or receiving offense than ours? The phenomenon suggests to me that our convictions are paper thin, demanding protection of law. Lawyers do well from it all, but spiritual liberty suffers. Meanwhile, sacred mysteries, pregnant symbols, spiritual doors are bandied about like goods in the vulgar marketplace like beautiful love songs on the lips of the lascivious. We take religion for granted, as if we know it all.

We do not.

This insight became very clear to me when I decided to investigate John the Baptist. We think we know who he is, but we have been misled: a flanker has been pulled, rendering us blind. I hope you can share in my journey for the truth of John the Baptist.

Chapter One

THE MYSTERY OF JOHN THE BAPTIST

MATTHEW 11:11A

I HAVE LONG BEEN FASCINATED by the figure of John the Baptist, but did not realize how persistent a fascination this was until I noticed, some time ago, that our home displays no fewer than three portraits of the mysterious prophet. Each portrait tells a different story, each reveals something different about the man known to us as a Christian saint, but who, in his own time, was seen as nothing of the kind.

Three paintings. They all feature John, yet they might very well depict three different people, even though two of the paintings are the work of the same artist.

First, we see John as a heroic, muscular, commanding figure. He stands firm, practically naked, towering over the River Jordan with all the force and passion of Poseidon in his natural element. Fierce and kind, the Baptists face and beard are reminiscent of a Sikh warrior and holy man: an inspired guru, one who knows the world and what is beyond it. He has the chest of a Hollywood Hercules, with masterful hands mighty enough to take anyone through anything, from belated baptism to a brick wall.

The background figures, by contrast, seem diminished. They appear as sick, curious, censorious, or violently hostilelike townsfolk nervously watching Clint Eastwood stalking a remote Main Street in a spaghetti western.

On a hill above the people, Jesus reclines. Perhaps insignificant, a sole spectator of the star performance, Jesus observes the scene below. On the shore, a female figure (a self-portrait of the artist) dips her toe into the waters. Should she take the leap, or should she not? Should she join the giant in the waters depth and be transformed, or forever cling to familiar, secure territory?

This painting depicts John the Baptist as a figure of massive attraction, at least to the artist. Her watercolor is a kind of fan letter: one from the heart, wrought with the pigments of imagination dipped in the waters of initiation.

Recently, I met the artist, Louise Ford, by chance. Now a quarter of a century since she had been moved to concentrate her talent on the Baptist, just what, I asked, had inspired the work? John, Ford recalled, was for her the man who had gone beyond. He was the man with the guts to step outside of society, regardless of peer disapproval and hostility. Heeding a higher light, a purer voice, he entered the wilderness to live in the wild on what nature alone provided: to go without comforts, subsisting on the spirit, to live out his outsiderness, his consciousness of his difference to the once-born children of matter, with all his strength of endurance. Trusting he had done aright, John demonstrated with actions, as well as words, his willingness to pay the price for his audacity and startling holiness. The John-type goes beyond the city walls: the mind-set of his time. And the city, which thinks it knows all, cannot tolerate him; John tells the truth. He is a voice crying in the wildernessa cry the artist long ago heard and clearly longed to hear again, in the feverish vacuum of our collective anthill.