last exit for the lost

In the midst of the mundane, followers of an ancient mystery religion gather to celebrate their sacred and solemn rites. These seekers of empyreal wisdom are adherents of a faith once considered to be the heresy above all heresies: Gnosticism. The word gnosis comes from the Greek, gnostikos, meaning roughly, knowledge; not necessarily an intellectual, objective knowledge, but a very specialized type of divine or self-revealing knowledge, and thus, subjective. Violently suppressed in the second and third centuries, and long forgotten by all but a select few, Gnosticism’s perennial philosophy has again risen from its ashes and found vitality and expression within bodies such as the Ecclesia Gnostica Catholica Hermetica. Though their existence is not secret, the Parish of St. Michael the Archangel of the EGCH could be easily overlooked by anyone; for they have no grand cathedral or even a simple sign that would indicate their presence. Their sanctum sanctorum happens to be within the confines of a small tax preparation office. One would hardly suspect that in the substratum of the establishment, beneath the clicking of keys and printing of paper, a modern perpetuation of this ancient heretical sect congregates on a regular basis.

Walking through the door of C&M Tax in Kenosha, WI, one would see nothing that seems out of the ordinary for a tax preparation business. In the front area there are some plants, chairs for those waiting (often with anxiety and anticipation), and a receptionist’s counter. Just beyond the receptionist is a doorway, through which is a small office with two desks where, one by one, clients will learn of their fiscal fate; for some, confirming their suspicions, and for others, coming as a great shock of either relief or disappointment. To the left of the receptionist, however, and around the corner, is a doorway leading into a dimly lit, not-all-too-inviting basement. After walking down the steep, narrow staircase, there is still nothing to suggest that this is anything other than an old, dusty, unfinished basement used to store files and maintenance items such as light bulbs and cleaning supplies. To the left, though, is another doorway. There is a light peeking through from a distance. Upon entering this first subterranean passage, one finds a dark ante-chamber. The faint scent of incense is beginning to permeate the air. One is reminded of the catacombs in which the ancient Gnostics were forced to celebrate their rites in secrecy, for fear of the harsh persecution that had befallen most of their brethren in Europe, the Mediterranean, and Northern Africa.

Past the ante-chamber is the temple proper. Once inside the temple, there are a handful of congregants. They are patiently awaiting the evening’s events, which tonight happens to be the Liturgy of the Hermetic Light, One of the congregants, a local middle-aged business owner, begins telling me about a new website he’s found which explores the history of the Knights Templar, a religious-military order founded by the papacy in the twelfth century which was ultimately condemned for heresies similar to those of the Gnostics. A young congregant is listening attentively to a deacon of the church who is telling him about the new book on Gnosticism he’s reading by Dr. Stephan A. Hoeller.

To my right, beyond the congregants is a wall filled with various documents: charters, ordination certificates, and concordats of intercommunion with other gnostic churches. As I gaze down the wall and around to the next, the altar comes into view. Upon the altar are several items, each having a special significance to the ceremony. On the right hand side of the altar is a vase with a small floral arrangement. Just behind the vase are two cruets, one filled with water, the other with wine. Behind the cruets are a stack of papers, the text of the Mass itself. On the left hand side of the altar is a metal censer, containing a burning charcoal within it. Behind the censer is a small dish containing “hosts”, which are small round pieces of unleavened bread. Beyond the hosts lies the lectionary from which the day’s lessons will be read. In the front center of the altar, upon a triangular base, is a wooden cross with a rose, painted red, carved into the center. The rose is neither closed nor is it fully in bloom, but rather, in a state of perpetual unfolding; emblematic of the awareness of the human soul, unfolding within the individual amidst the trials and tribulations of the mundane world. (To the Gnostics, you see, everything is symbolic, as it is not a religion of dogmatic faith, but of intimate personal experience initiated by myth, symbol, and ritual.) Right behind the cross is a seven stemmed brass candelabrum, holding seven unlit white candles. Behind the candelabrum is the Holy of Holies: the sacred chalice. Upon the chalice is a paten supporting a large host which the priest will consume during the celebration of the Eucharist, the central rite of the Mass. Covering the paten and the chalice is a purple veil, preserving its sanctity until the temple has been properly cleansed and of all evil and unwanted influences, and the proper entities have been invoked.

The clergy have now disappeared into the ante-chamber to vest and prepare for the forthcoming ceremony. Tonight, the mass will be celebrated by a bishop of the church. He will be assisted by a deacon and an arch-priestess (yes, women are ordained into the priesthood). The lights are dimmed, and the murmuring of the congregation has now ceased. The first to appear is the deacon, bearing the censer that was upon the altar a few moments previous. He walks slowly, swinging the censer rhythmically from side to side. He walks around to the far side of the altar. There, using the censer, he traces out some symbol or glyph with an exact precision, marking out the boundaries of the space wherein the clergy will be performing their sacred rites. The incense is thick, and fills the room. The most predominant fragrance is the sweetness of frankincense. It is combined with the pungent undertones of myrrh, and in the distance my olfactory senses pick up a suggestion of the subtle spiciness of benzoin. Dropping the censer to his side, the deacon begins again the rhythmic swinging, circumambulating the entire altar clockwise, stopping at each quarter to trace out the sacred symbol. When done, he replaces the censer upon the altar and returns to the ante-chamber.

After a short time, the clergy begin their procession to the altar. They are arranged in hierarchal order: the deacon, the priest, and finally, the bishop. As they approach the altar, the deacon turns, walks to the left, and stands a few feet in front of the altar, facing it. The priestess then makes a similar movement, but to the right, and the bishop then places himself between his assistants. They approach the altar with three steps, slowly and in unison. When directly before the altar, they kneel and pray together:

“O, Ineffable Light, Father of Resplendent Glory, Mother of Eternal Wisdom, we being assembled together on the path of Light to manifest the Power of the Logos, the Christ within, and to participate in the offering of that great sacrifice which was and is and is to come do hail Thee as the Great Architect of the Universe, and the Source of all Light, Life, Love and Liberty.”

The celebrants then arise and assume particular stations. The bishop, who is chief celebrant, takes his place behind the altar, facing the congregation.

The liturgy continues with verses of adoration to the Lord and his Lady, Sophia, and mystical pondering of life and light, truth and beauty. At times, the whole room resonates with the intoned invocations of Aeons and Archangels, pronounced in Hebrew, Greek, Latin, and other tongues long forgotten by humankind, unintelligible except, perhaps, to the angels themselves. The priest traces out the letters of holy names in the air about the altar. All of this is done in preparation of the transmutation of bread and wine, symbols of our terrestrial and celestial natures, into the body and blood of the Logos; the Primum Mobile that was in the beginning.

At last, the time has come to begin the process of consecrating the elements. The priest carefully removes the purple veil from the chalice, folding it neatly and placing it to the side. In like manner, he removes the paten holding the large host, and lifts the chalice toward the deacon, who receives his silent cue and moves closer to the altar. The deacon takes up the cruet containing the wine and reverently begins pouring the wine into the chalice. With a brief exchange of glances, the deacon knows when enough wine has been poured and takes the cruet of water, pouring only a little. As the priest replaces the chalice, the deacon returns to his station in front of the altar.

Next is a litany paying homage to, and calling forth a body of men and women, saints, martyrs, prophets, and renowned teachers of the Gnosis. As each name is solemnly intoned, my mind is filled with whispers of the sages: Mary Magdalen, who according to Gnostic tradition was the consort of Jesus and privy to special teachings that were not relayed to his apostles, nor to the public; Valentinus, who preached a complex Gnostic cosmology to second century Egyptians and Romans; the ascetic Cathars, whose simple and peaceful communities were rent asunder by the Pope’s crusaders; and many more, each of whose teachings, values, and lifestyles helped contribute to Gnosticism’s rich tradition.

The consecration now enters into its final moments of preparation. The priest takes the host, breaks it in half, and then breaks off a small corner which he places into the chalice. He now utters holy words, some barely audible, and with his hands extended over the bread and wine, traces again some symbols in the air. He then pronounces a final name of power as he slowly lowers a ritual dagger into the chalice, symbolizing sacrifice and serving as a method of directing the salvific essence of the Aeon he has called forth.

The elements of bread and wine have now become infused with the spiritual essence of the “Logos of the Eternal Aeon”. The chief celebrant is the first to partake of the communion, followed by the other clergy, and finally, the congregants. As I consume the consecrated elements and sit in pensive contemplation, I can feel the fragments of my pysche coalesce into a perfect one-ness, if only for a moment. After each, in turn, has received the Eucharist, the meditation is ended by the priest’s concluding rites.

The concluding rites are something of a homily. It bids one to become as eternity itself. It encourages one to explore all of the heights and depths of human experience. In true Hermetic fashion, the individual is instructed to comprehend in oneself all of the qualities of God and Nature. It reminds us that “Gnosis differs much from sense; for sense is of the things that surmount it, but Gnosis is the end of sense”, and that “all Gnosis is unbodily, but useth the mind as an instrument, as the mind uses the body.” We are then dismissed to “go forth in peace to serve the Logos in the person of one another.”

As the clergy recesses, the congregants remain still and contemplative. After a few moments, a soft murmuring resumes. People start talking about the ceremony, and the various impressions they received. The conversation eventually develops into a debate over where everyone may go for further discussion. The clergy now reappear in their secular garb. No longer could you tell the difference between priest, bishop, acolyte, or profane.

As we begin to file back up the stairs and through the offices, the sights of file cabinets, desks, and computers fill my realm of perception. The pleasant perfume of the incense, the warm resonant tones of the priest’s calls, and the sharp tannin of the wine are now only barely lingering on my senses. I depart with the bitter-sweet satisfaction of having attained union with my maker, my mate, my self. For the Gnostic, however, the Eucharist truly never ends.

Tomorrow morning, the office will be filled with workers hurrying about, typing this, filing that. Clients will be coolly greeted in a business-like manner, and asked to sign in and have a seat.. Myriad people will flow in and out, never speculating that they are standing over hollowed grounds; never knowing of the jewel hidden within. Few and fortunate are they who will find the sublime within the sublunary.