The Healer

The thought with the modern mind, which is quintessentially an Abrahamic thought, is that there can be only one story, but this has never been true. Great uncertainty accompanies most stories, theirs included. This uncertainty allows for other stories to live, and so begins the story of the Healer.

In ancient times, the wisest and most pure recognized an unfortunate degeneration in mankind. This degeneration was perhaps due to the incessant mixing of bloodlines and teachings from widely divergent sources. Regardless, it was understood that mankind was becoming ever denser, and more material and this move into density was ushered in with a loss of faculties and abilities.

It was recognized that the new man could only sing of surfaces, and like Aristotle, could only dignify that which satisfied the longing for substance. The last of the great mystics understood that for mankind to have the road of return left open, their inner essence would require a divine power to rope itself to, as a means and a path to rediscovery. For this, they called upon the entheogen and that ancient force whose name still reverberated in the deep minds of men.

The fact that the Healer was stolen and changed to fit the agenda of mortal men is hardly understood today. Conventional thought being based upon conditions of life ensures this condition, as the theft has been adroitly obscured, with a consistency of the mortal message loud and pervasive, allowing for no variation, no development beyond its masquerading intent.

The modern world boasts billions who have internalized this message. Every continent harbors its organized belief in the stolen story. Almost none are allowed to doubt the narrative. To question it evokes rage and denial. To expose its foundation results in disbelief and gasps of indignation. Yet the truth behind the story of Jesus is far different from the story we are told.

The story begins with a name, and the name we are told is somehow a Hebrew one. Yet the origin of the name is most certainly Egyptian, and the assignation of Hebrew to it occurred at a much later date. Iao developed into the Gnostic Iasous, and the I and J sounds of Hebrew became conflated. Thus, to the mortal message, Jesus is naught but a Hebrew name. No one bothers to ask where the name originally derived from. It might be, for those invested in the current explanation, disturbing to know this truth.

To understand Iao one must understand Egyptian religion, of which mysticism was an integral function. Suffice it to say here that Iao was understood as a pervasive and mighty power, one which was linked directly to the realm of the Gods, who could use this name in a manner mortals could barely conceive.

Iao was the master, the shaman, the guide to the ascent beyond the mortal realm, to the incomprehensible vastness of spirit, that which can be experienced by the pure, the aware, yet never truly described. That the ancient Gnostics, who were an integral link in the tradition of mysticism that was old before their time called upon Iao as that force, that power to rope their essences too, is beyond doubt.

In a direct fashion, Jesus owes his inception to the Complex Egyptian spiritual experience and the Gnostics who followed them. Similarly so, the verbiage of Christianity owes its existence to ancient Egypt and the rites and observations that attenuated religious experiences long before Hebrew as a language was even a thought.

Christian, quite literally, refers to any group that follows their chosen elevated figure. This figure was consecrated through magical acts of application of oils. Thus, Christ is the one who is thusly blessed, and the Christians are the devoted followers of the anointed one.

Anointment was a common magical and religious procedure in the ancient world. The wisdom of combining oils, herbs, and fragrances is one that can be found in many homes, dating back to ancient times. Inherent to this also, was the knowledge of the entheogen, and the understanding of how to make that which was base, divine.

Closely associated with Christ was Chrest, a title, not unlike Pharaoh, that denoted a position of authority and power. Chrest was a denotation then, of a select group of the especially esteemed. Chrest, like Pharaoh, was not a name, but it could be used in lieu of a name. Egyptians maintained that great potency existed in names, and thus the names of the select would not be simply strewn about as mere identifiers.

Famous Chrests included Isis and Osiris, the formative figures of Mediterranean religion. The followers of these Gods were known as Chrestians. In at least one document surviving from Roman times, Chrestians was clearly written, later changed to Christian, in an attempt to award Christianity with a pedigree it had never earned. The early church fathers developed the habit of combing through documents in order to alter them in ways that looked favorably upon their new religion. They liked to refer to this process as editing. It was truly simple fraud.

Constantine admitted, in establishing the Christian church with himself as its head, that he freely took from festivals, iconography, and lore that already existed. This syncretism was instrumental to the ability of Christianity to absorb different peoples, traditions, and beliefs. It provided a way and a means by which religion could grow in political power and significance. Thus, we are on very solid ground when we illustrate how Christ and Chrest became the central concepts of the new political religion of Rome.

So too, this reality is at the heart of the despair of modern scholarship, which cannot find anything under the umbrella of Christianity that is truly Christian. There was no Christian church before the 4^th century AD, and the mysticism of that church was directly transcribed from the ancient mystical tradition. It was never Christian. This is hardly surprising when viewed in light of all Abrahamic religions. Sufism clearly predates Islam, and the Qabbala was borrowed permanently from Chaldea by Judaism.

The narrative of ownership propagated by all Abrahamic religions, of their apparent mystical traditions, is one designed to turn all eyes to them, and away from those who actually explained this mysticism for thousands of years prior to the advent of Abraham. Yet even for those unaware of what we have revealed, the figure of the Christian Jesus, and his myth, are not the unique arrivals upon the Earth that they are claimed to be, for knowledge pulls back the curtain of ignorance unless that ignorance is willfully maintained.

The narrative of the Christian Jesus was identified as belonging to a class of myths by the great mythologist, Joseph Campbell. Far from the Christian Jesus conveying a unique and anomalous philosophy upon the world, Jesus remains an essential contribution to the corpus of agrarian myth, the myth that is shared by the Corn God of the Americas, and the Osiris of the Egyptians. The essential feature of agrarian Gods is that they die, and in dying, become reborn in a different guise. So it is that followers eat of his body and drink of his blood. Far from a purely Christian experience, this transubstantiation has long been central to the agricultural religious process, and although it derives from a much more ancient source, it is essential to an understanding of the mysticism of the entheogen.

Joseph Campbell agreed with those scholars who concluded that agriculture was not a positive evolution, but a strategy for survival in a world of dwindling resources where scarcity became synonymous with extinction. Agriculture was a forced condition, developed from the more natural hunter-gatherer lifestyle, and the angst, distress, and trauma so present in agricultural myth illustrate this reality.

The ancient mystics, in presenting their healers to the public, realized that the public would simply materialize him. Such was the reason for the inclusion of the entheogen into the process of return. Currently, entheogens are generally referred to as hallucinogens, with not a small amount of derision. Whilst some like Terrance McKenna have pushed back against this prejudice, the common concept is that nothing can assist the querent in achieving a greater than a physical experience.

John Allegro, scholar and researcher par excellence, has conclusively proven that Jesus and entheogens together were common iconographic images in ancient times. He rightly states that such are not simply decorative devices, but didactic efforts to preserve and communicate the means by which lost man might reconnect to the divine principle.

Perhaps here, a disclaimer is in order. Entheogens by themselves, outside of a rigorous purification and dedication context presented in a conscious ritual context, are not in any way guaranteed to provide anyone with a mystical experience, often quite the opposite. The ancient mystics employed the entheogen within the strict ceremony, and the masters guided the events. It certainly wasn’t a case of guzzling down cheap beer while munching down a fistful of mushrooms, with a course of GMO chips and football.

However, in the correct context, with the correct focus and training of the mind, the entheogen could and did render the mission of roping one’s essence to the divine possible. Soul flight, as it has often been dubbed, occurred for thousands of years through many means, and one of those means was definitely through entheogens.

It was the ancient Gnostics who brought the teachings of this divine intersection to the written word. Gnostic gospels and texts clearly place Jesus in the position of a spiritual teacher, constantly admonishing, directing, assisting, and revealing principles only known to those upon the spiritual path. It was natural for the political creation of the church to seize upon such a transcendent figure.

Augustine boasted in his writing that the religion he was fashioning was going to have great and wide appeal, for it was centered on a man, and to the masses, this would be its ultimate appeal.

The world of the eastern Mediterranean at the inception of Christianity was dominated by two mythic systems that had largely merged, Dionysus and Osiris. Such were strong agricultural myths that featured the dying God. Christianity thus reflected and adopted the prevalent mythic structure of the time. This was a requirement, to appeal to the greater masses, the new religion had to contain familiar elements.

Agriculture is directly married to the cycle of the year, with planting and harvest associated with the return of life, Spring, and the close presence of death, Fall. Jesus was assigned the birthday of the 25^th of December, which he shared with Mithras, in order to emphasize the return of light, as the winter solstice would have passed, and the days would be growing longer as night diminished.

There are 13 lunar cycles through the course of the year, with 12 solar months, thus the numbers 12 and 13 have special significance to agrarian cultures, as the solar and lunar principles are acknowledged. So it is that Jesus had 12 apostles, and altogether they summed up the number 13.

Osiris was directly linked to the movement of the heavens, to which the annual flooding of the Nile was an essential feature. With the appearance of Sirius, the onset of the planting season, and the time of heat would occur. Jesus too was linked to his star. The three Magi appeared to canonize his birth, and as everyone familiar with basic gematria understands, three is the number of the establishment of the cosmos, the birth of the vesica pices.

Most Christians balk at the evidence that their religion is the result of syncretic distillations of pre-existent structures. They demand that we all adopt their rather puerile view that Christianity somehow popped into the world fully formed, with no antecedents other than Judaism.

Unfortunately from this point of view, there is absolutely no evidence to substantiate it. Every significant item found in Christianity has its direct pagan antecedents, from the garb which is clearly an imitation of that worn by the Egyptian priesthood, to the mythic structure of the religion, to its current emphasis on commanding love and devotion, which clearly descends from a prominent pagan practice.

The eastern Mediterranean was a zone that by the onset of Christianity had seen thousands of years of heavy agrarian development. The religion, the attitudes of the populace, and the very structure of society were based on the agricultural way of life. As we have seen, the Christian Jesus follows closely in the path of such a structure. Far from being an anomaly dropped upon the world, his narrative follows that of the agrarian dying god.

Assumptions that Jesus somehow runs his own course outside of the agrarian mythic structure must ignore a plethora of evidence to be taken seriously. The Christian Jesus stands as a figure derived directly from agrarian myth.

His emergence, featured with the religion ostensibly carrying his name, ushered in its own great reset of Roman society. Constantine not only moved the capital of Rome, but he also transferred ownership of all rural property to the state he headed, thus the landed peasantry underwent a phenomenal transformation into landless serfs, and the promise of sustainability was replaced by a reward after death for the service of the slave. It is little known that Emperor Constantine, the creator of the Christian church, was also the father of Feudalism, a political force that would dominate Europe for almost 1,000 years.

Modern Christians are taught to worship Judaism and its adherents. In a very real sense, the adulation from Christians, and the dispensation of their blood and treasure, keep Judaism alive.

This parasitic relationship derives from an erroneous belief that Christianity was an organic development of a first principle, which is honored for its establishment. Yet it is clear throughout the historic development of Christianity into a major religion that any similarity to Judaism is merely incidental. It is Christianity that seeks its certainty in the cold embrace of Judaism, and for this validation, Christianity is willing to do literally anything.

It was Judaism that launched its’ rebellion against the life-affirming cycles of the agrarian world. Abraham admonished his flock that there was no need to see themselves in light of the world. It was their god alone who mattered. Thus in Deuteronomy, the followers of Jehovah are directed to hack down every tree that is sacred to the Earth’s mother and to destroy her shrines. This violent rejection of the world has concocted an enormous victim complex, which is weaponized against that world in a defective abuse of emotion. One could easily conclude that this violent rejection of the living world is what gives Judaism its unique character, but such has never been true of Christianity.

The Healer, as we have seen, was never Jewish. The Healer, simply put is the divine principle of motion and power that has been understood by shamans and mystics for thousands of years. The Healer was honored amongst the polytheism of Egypt from time immemorial and is sanctified in invocations and chants.

This divine force was understood by the ancient mystics as the power and the way for increasingly material mankind to re-establish its right to the divine. Christianity materialized the Healer and made him a sacrifice to the world, but every wonder that Jesus performed had been performed previously by adepts and magicians. It was the wont of wonder workers to cast out evil entities, to bring the dead back to life, and to heal the ill. Jealous of such power, Christianity banned it from their worship, but they could not win such a position without Christianity calling upon more powerful magic.

Beyond the realm of myth, the sphere of reality saw a real struggle against the powers of adepts and magicians. Irenaeus was irked to no end by the existence of Marcus the Magician, whose most heinous wonder was found in his retinue of gorgeous French gals whom he would spur on to prophecy.

The figure of Jesus emerges from the world of mystics as Iasous the Healer, divine principle, and magician. It is no mere coincidence that cutting-edge medicine today is learning to employ entheogens as a means of easing the distress of terminal patients, or as medicine to allow the traumatized to regain healthy function. This has been known for thousands of years.

It was the ancient Gnostics who perhaps most closely defined Iasous before Christianity dealt with them by the sword. He was invoked of course in rituals of ascent, and great care was taken to illustrate his divine nature as one not dependent upon any physical form. The Gnostic Jesus laughed and instructed, became exasperated, and loved women.

In the Gospel of Thomas, which almost made it into the official Bible, Jesus shows a nature that clearly reflects the spiritual wisdom that is foundational to all mystical schools. Such understanding does not arrive via flash in the pan social movements, but through long traditions that have tested and retested their knowledge against the backdrop of human life.

Our final exploration in this piece regards the nature of fiction as an active principle in human affairs. The eastern Mediterranean region at the dawn of Christianity was a place fully infatuated by its own fiction. Classical education had become debased into rhetoric. Truth in the human sphere was a distant second to fashion, and popularity was the measure of success. Doubtless, an aware reader immediately discovers uncomfortable parallels with the modern world.

The unshakeable thirst for fiction arrives to us today via ridiculous “histories”, fantasy biology, and complete misrepresentations of real conditions in order to empower agendas and intrigues. Christianity was hardly immune to these societal forces. In fact, a strong case can be made that Christianity was activated by Constantine through them and because of them. A fitting example here is the claim that Constantine was guided by divine visions to establish his church, with himself as its head. Such claims fully reek of cynical political process, fully devoid of any genuine spiritual directive.

The damage done by the lust for fictionalization is deep and pervasive. Weaponized fictions destroy trust. They place the human mind perpetually on the defensive and require the development of a critical faculty that itself can be steered by fiction. Yet perhaps worst of all is the damage done to the perception of truth itself, where truth becomes situational, easily manipulated by forces arrayed to seek any and every advantage over those they have soothed with their lies.

Lust for fiction reveals itself in a need for constant titillation, a mindless fascination in clever strategies devoid of moral authority. Fictionalization leads its devotees into exceptionally shallow waters where empty diversions achieve monumental status. Consumerism was largely invented by Sigmund Freud’s nephew Edward Bernays.

He laid out in his 1923 book “Propaganda” his prescription to cut the legs off a populous that was becoming sophisticated and educated enough to seek its own destiny. Bernays won, and today the omnipresent shallow water ensures that people remain ignorant and unaware.

The Christian Jesus is fiction. The narrative of his life was taken from Apollonius of Tyana, his wonders were the wonders of the great magicians, and his spiritual wisdom was rejected in order to create the fiction of a man. This does not mean that the religion fashioned around his fiction is altogether useless, but it does mean that maturity and wisdom are required to temper both message and faith.

In this modern time, a genuine means to return to the divine principle is incredibly rare. Few modern methodologies offer any viable path, nor can there be any return that is based upon fad or fiction, only the truth shall do.

Forgotten now, in a Christianity that has destroyed its’ own mysticism in lieu of a doctrine of blind faith, is the need for the human essence to rope itself to the ineffable so that ultimately it might come to recognize that divinity within. The anagogic nature of this link was clearly and succinctly articulated in the remnant Gnostic gospels. Here, the role of Jesus as Savior lives in a thoroughly mature explanation of how the application of knowledge and skill are to be employed in the seeking of this union.

Time will tell if the Christian Jesus can or will retrieve his true potency. Obviously, there will be no return to ancient Egyptian and Gnostic revelations, yet there is room for a deepening, and achieving of a greater significance within a spiritual milieu.

A good start is an honest review of the fiction, and replacement of blind faith with genuine spiritual principles. At this point, he is but the focus of a highly emotionalized collectivism that only to the ignorant is the nature of religious experience. The historic role of this divine principle was so much greater than a political function that justifies the existence of a religion, yet currently, in this modern fiction, this is all the Christian Jesus can be.

Mike Kay

Mike has always lived his life on the edge, without a safety net. He is not a traditionalist, although he values tradition. He is not a social maven, although he values a functioning society. In fact anything you might think Mike is, he is not, thus he refers to himself as a nobody. His destiny has led him into the oddest of places, at the oddest of times. He is oft convinced that as in the Hymn of the Pearl, he is doomed to grope around in the dark, having forgotten who he is. His dream is remembering, and his writings are perhaps an ode to this process.

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