Money

In the created universe, the law of cause and effect governs all things. Whether in the realm of the physical, the psychological, the economic, or the political, actions have consequences. The laws of creation don't require our belief for their operation. What goes up, comes down. It comes down whether we believe it will or not. It is affected neither by our charm, our ingenuity or the depth of our self-deception.

In human affairs, cause and effect operate as reciprocity. You give me a Christmas card; I give you one. I lend you twenty; you pay me back -- and if you don't, you're unlikely to see another twenty. Saints may turn the other cheek, but in the realm of egoity (you and me; us and them) we all keep careful score.

What goes around comes around. Actions bring reactions. You scratch my back, I scratch yours. Part of becoming an adult is accepting the inevitability of all this. Sure, there are folks who try to game the system, get something for nothing. They play the lotto, go to Las Vegas, kite checks, take things and forget to pay for them. These people think they can beat the house, but in the long run, the house cannot be beaten. Sooner or later, these people lose. There isn’t anything uncertain about it. It’s built right into the system.

We live in a complex society. What started out as simple barter has become an intricate web of international multiparty transactions. Somewhere along the line, money was created to denominate the relative value of the things we exchange -- our time, our effort, our resources. Money permits me to exchange my time selling advice in California for a barrel of oil pumped out of the ground in Canada, a bale of cotton spun into a bolt of cloth in India, a television set assembled in China, or a pair of shoes cobbled in Brazil. If I don’t need these things right away, money lets me hold onto (“save”) the value of the work I’ve done until I do need them. And it even lets me pledge the value of work I haven’t done yet. I can buy something now (“borrow”), and promise to pay for it later -- assuming I’m willing to pay a little extra for the convenience.

The monetary system today is incredibly complicated – so complicated, in fact, that almost no one understands it. But as complicated as it is, the system is still subject to the law of cause and effect: reciprocity. If I give something up, I want it back. And if I have to wait, I want something extra.

As the term is used today, “money” no longer represents an interest in precious metal --silver, gold –- or anything else. A twenty dollar Federal Reserve note entitles me to receive another twenty dollar Federal Reserve note, nothing more. The dollar (and the euro and the yen) are all “fiat currencies”, meaning they exist solely by fiat of the governments that issued them. Their "values" represent nothing more than ideas – numerical indices of what we owe, and what we are owed. The continued existence of this system relies on nothing more nor less than the assumption by each participant that the other participants will continue to honor the system. In other words, it relies on an assumption of stability. If that assumption goes, the system goes with it.

The value of a fiat currency ultimately depends on the supply and the demand for it. Over time, the demand for a currency rises (and falls) with the overall output of goods and services in the economy that uses it. The supply of a currency is determined by the government that issues it. If the amount of a currency is kept more or less in line with the output of goods and services in an economy, the value of the currency remains more or less stable. If the amount of currency grows faster than the economic output of the economy – as for example, if a government is printing money to fund expenditures for wars, retirement benefits, social programs or anything else that is out of line with the government's receipts – the supply of the currency winds up increasing faster than economic output, and that currency declines in value. When this happens, the people holding the currency experience what is known as “inflation”.

Thus, inflation represents a collective attempt by the people in a society to live beyond their means -- to borrow money they have no way of repaying. When this happens, other nations may be willing to provide goods and services in exchange for the debtor nation's currency for awhile, but that willingness will decrease over time. As it does, the debtor nation's currency will decline in value. Since the currency is inherently worth nothing more than the paper it's written on, there is essentially no limit to how far its value can fall.

The world is based on reciprocity. Countries, as well as individuals, are subject to the law. There are those who try to game the system, of course. Ultimately, these countries lose. There isn’t anything uncertain about it. It’s built right into the system.

Gehenna?

Though most Christians tend to forget it, Jesus was a Jew and so were most of the people he was teaching.

In the time of Jesus, the Jews believed that a Messiah (Mašíah) would be coming on earth to judge the wicked and restore righteousness.

It was part of the Jewish tradition that the prophet, Elijah, would return to earth before the Messiah to prepare the way. “Behold, I will send you Elijah the prophet before the coming of the great and dreadful day of the Lord.” (Malachi 4:5) So, when people began to wonder whether Jesus was the Messiah, the question also came up, if Jesus is the Messiah, who's Elijah?

It was in this context that Jesus told his disciples that Elijah had already come, and he was John the Baptist. “For this is he, of whom it is written, Behold, I send my messenger before thy face, which shall prepare thy way before thee. … and if ye will receive it, this is Elias, which was for to come.” (Matthew 11:10, 13-14)

Most of us have heard all this before, of course, but consider for a minute what it means.

It means that Jesus and his disciples all expected and believed that someone who had died hundreds of years before could come back on earth in a new body.

In other words, they believed in reincarnation.

Or take Jesus’ conversation with his disciples on the way to Caesarea Philippi. Jesus asks them, “Who do people say I am?” And they say “Some say John the Baptist; others say Elijah; and still others, one of the prophets.” (Mark 8: 27-30). This conversation is incomprehensible unless the disciples all believed in reincarnation.

So let’s assume for the moment that Jesus and the disciples believed in reincarnation.

That doctrine, as commonly taught, includes the notion that rebirth works in furtherance of the law of cause and effect as applied to human actions. In other words, the things that happen to us in this life are a result of what we did before.

That the disciples of Christ believed this is suggested by the episode recounted in John, Chapter 9, where Jesus heals a blind man on the Sabbath. “And as Jesus passed by, he saw a man which was blind from his birth. And his disciples asked him, saying, Master, who did sin, this man, or his parents, that he was born blind?” In other words, the disciples clearly believed a man who had been blind since birth could have brought the situation upon himself by sinning before.

To those who believe in reincarnation, the “judgment” one receives at the end of life comes not by way of a permanent assignment to heaven or hell, but through rebirth in relatively favorable or unfavorable circumstances. Certainly this isn’t what most people who call themselves Christian believe. They believe that those who receive Jesus Christ will ascend to everlasting life, and everyone else will be condemned to burn in hell forever.

But did Jesus ever say that?

Actually, Jesus never used the word “hell” at all. In fact, that concept didn't exist in Jewish theology at the time. The word Jesus used that is translated in the Gospels as "hell" is “Gehenna”.

Gehenna is derived from “Ge Hinnom”, which meant literally, “Valley of Hinnom”. This valley is an actual place outside the south wall of the ancient city of Jerusalem, stretching from the foot of Mountain Zion eastward to the Kidron Valley. It is mentioned a number of times in the Old Testament, and has extremely unsavory associations. Jeremiah refers to it as the site where “high places” were built to Baal, and children were burned in sacrifice to the pagan god, Molech. (Jeremiah 32:35). After King Josiah forbid these practices, the area was turned into a dump where refuse was burned, and that’s what it was in Jesus’s day: a garbage dump.

Jesus uses the word, Gehenna, eleven times, mostly to describe the consequences of improper actions (See, e.g. Matthew 5:22, 29, 30; 10:28, 18:9, 23:15, 33c; Mark 9:43,45; Luke 12:5.) Without going through all these references, it’s fair to say that virtually none of them requires or even suggests Jesus meant anything other than “a gully where idols were once worshiped in barbaric fashion and where garbage (including the dead bodies of criminals) are now burned.”

Jesus wasn't a fan of this world. He warns his disciples, “Lay not up for yourselves treasures upon earth, where moth and rust doth corrupt, and where thieves break through and steal: But lay up for yourselves treasures in heaven, where neither moth nor rust doth corrupt, and where thieves do not break through nor steal.” (Matthew 6:9-20).

He made it plain, “My kingdom is not of this world.” (John 18: 36). When the Pharisees asked him when the kingdom of God would come, he answered: “The kingdom of God cometh not with observation: Neither shall they say, Lo here! or, lo there! for, behold, the kingdom of God is within you.” (Luke 17: 20-21)

So if this isn’t the kingdom of God, what is it?


* * *

The story goes that a woman once asked the great yogi, Paramahansa Yogananda, whether he believed in hell or not.

He hesitated a moment, then looked at the woman quizzically and said, “But Madam, where do you think you are?”

Maybe Gehenna?

Mother

The first metaphor is Mother. Birth is the second.

We come into the world helpless, but we do not come alone. We come into the womb of the mother. In that womb we are complete and happy, without need or want, cares or concerns, problems or troubles. We are perfectly nurtured, protected, and provided for. Our troubles begin with the awareness of the separate existence of self, which begins with the birth of the body.

You may not think you remember, but see if this doesn’t ring a bell for you.

Darkness, silence and peace. Then –

Brilliant, glaring light (the operating room). Eyes unable to focus. Objects and colors moving in a hazy field of view. Sounds that are too loud, human sounds, people moving, voices. Objects hard and painful to the touch. The space beyond, cold and forbidding. Then –

Searing, burning pain that begins in the back of the throat and races down the throat and into the lungs (the first breath). Then, even worse, the gasping, grasping need to repeat the excruciating process again … and again … and again.

Familiar?

The womb represents our undifferentiated existence in universal consciousness (God). Birth is the creation of our individuality – which from the individual perspective, is initially involuntary. The experience of physical birth provides us in each life with a sense of comparison between the attractiveness of the inner and outer worlds. The starkest reminder is the first breath – that gasping, grasping need to continue our separate existence, in spite of the excruciating pain that necessarily accompanies it. It is the breath that ends our comfortable, undifferentiated life in the womb, and begins our tumultuous earthly existence. We are so attached to the existence of this world that it is almost impossible for the average person to appreciate its limitations. Accidents, illness, old age and death confront us all, but generally cause us to cling all the more tightly to the world. Yet in a subtle way, we are reminded each night of the limitations our existence here. For no matter how captivating and involving the activities of the day, we willingly give them up each night so we can return to the inner world of undifferentiated consciousness.

Though we arrive here helpless, as I have said, we are born into relationship, and our first relationship is with the mother. Mother represents in the paradigm the perfect nurturing and care-giving nature of God. In pregnancy, she plays the role unconsciously, giving protection and sustenance from her body. With the birth of the child, the role becomes conscious – though still somewhat instinctive. The helplessness of the child brings forth nurturing in the mother, for the welfare of the child is essential to the survival of the species. As the child grows older, it does not want to be helpless any more; it wants to be independent, self-reliant and strong. So the child pushes the mother away. But the mother understands the child’s need for independence and ultimately lets the child go off to learn the lessons of the world and, if all goes well, to return as an adult with a mature understanding, so that in the end there can be an exchange of love by free choice, beyond the realm of instinct.

That is the metaphor of the perfect mother, which is the soul’s relationship with the Motherhood of God. This Motherhood is real – it is a creation of the universal consciousness, as real (or unreal) as the ideas of us all. Each one of us is born in the womb of this Mother, and our lives here on this earth are helpless before the Lord. No matter how intelligent or accomplished or powerful we may be, we cannot determine the outcome of our actions. No matter how carefully we plan, we may fail. No matter how hard we train, we may lose. And there will come a time for each one of us when we will fall victim to sickness, old age and death, no matter how faithfully we exercise, how healthfully we eat, or how many vitamins we use. If we acknowledge our undeniable position before God, we automatically bring forth God’s mercy, for mercy is the nature of God as the Mother. But if we insist on playing the part of independence, if we push God away, then the Mother withdraws, allowing us to go out in the world to “make it on our own” – which, as we will discover, is impossible.

To the baby, the mother is everything. But on this earth not all mothers are perfect. In this world, the mother may not be interested in the child, or she may feel angry or trapped, or unfulfilled. If the mother is selfish, uncaring or cruel, if the mother withdraws, the child comes to believe it is unworthy of love. This feeling may be directed inwardly as depression or outwardly as anger. Lacking faith in the fairness of the universe – and in ones’ own self – there may be a tendency to self-destruction, or there may be a compulsive need to demonstrate outwardly one’s mastery and control. Both of these represent an inability to trust and let go. One may embrace materialism or nihilism, secular humanism or totalitarianism, skepticism or fundamentalism, but in none of these comfort be found. For nothing can substitute for surrender to the love of the Mother.

If a child is born to an uncaring mother, it is because the child has itself been uncaring. Human action is by no means exempt from the law of cause and effect, and the cycle of birth and death is how the system functions. We appear in this world as infants, apparently pure, blank slates, but each experience that is written on the slate of our lives is mathematically determined by our own past actions. In each experience we are given a choice: to blame (the world, and thus ourselves), which will condemn us to remain what we were before, or to forgive (the world, and thus ourselves) allowing us to grow in understanding, and to become emotionally mature.
It is only in the costume of flesh that we can play the game of separate existence on the circus stage of the world. And it is only by learning to play our part perfectly that we can join the eternal audience of angels or, if we so choose, graduate to the role of writer or director in a world of our own making.

Point of View

The world is a metaphor. You, me, our bodies, our world ... everything is metaphor. By this I mean that everything is capable of being seen at a higher level -- as pattern, as concept, as pure idea. And that "seeing" is the purpose of our experience here, the purpose of our existence, our relationships, our world. When we realize this, when we begin looking for the metaphor, the game begins. Until then, we are living by instinct -- drifting in a dream, groping toward pleasure, recoiling from pain, moving in circles through the same monotonous set of experiences, again and again and again. When we begin to seek meaning, when we look within, there is the possibility of something else.

So the game -- and make no mistake, this is a game we're playing -- is to perceive a series of metaphors. Each time we figure one out, and move beyond our emotional reaction to it, we change, we grow, we get unstuck. And we move on.