Story Teller arrived in the town in the cool of the early evening and took a seat in the public square near the splashing fountain. People recognized him and began gathering around. Like all towns of that time, they had no electronic devices for saturating themselves with continuously manufactured sight and sound.
After all were comfortably settled in, Story Teller began.
"Tonight I tell you the story of another Story Teller. Many people liked him and liked his stories, though they did not always understand them. His stories were always simple ones about the visible world but had deeper meanings, pointing to the realities of the visionary world, the world not seen with physical eyes, the spiritual world."
"I do not understand," said a listener. "What eyes do we have besides these in our head?"
"Imagine a rose," said Story Teller. "Can you see it?"
"Yes. It is red, has a long stem with green leaves and with thorns."
"That eye." said Story Teller. "The eye of the imagination. It is no less real than the physical eyes. We use it, see with it all the time but tend to take it for granted and give it little attention. We see a world we call visible and a world we call invisible, yet they are both visible."
Story Teller waited to see if he was understood. The listener smiled with visible relaxation.
"The Story Teller's name was Yeshua. He told the story of our Source which he called our Father. In doing so, he got into trouble with some of the religious folk, with the philosopher story tellers, and eventually with the government.
"How did he get into trouble, Story Teller?" asked a boy.
"He told stories that did not match the stories of the other story tellers. Plus people began liking his stories better. The other story tellers were outraged. Their story teller status was threatened. They had been telling their stories for a long time and were regarded as the ones in the know, the ones who knew what life was all about. Now here was this upstart who said their stories were okay as far as they went, but now that he was here, a new story had begun. They were obsolete."
"More than that, Yeshua had a wisdom the other story tellers did not have. They were constantly exposing themselves to ridicule by trying to trap Yeshua in public debate but were reduced to sputtering withdrawal by his remarks."
"Here is the part of the story of Yeshua I wish to tell you tonight. Eventually the jealous indignant story tellers partnered with the government to have Yeshua killed. In the town where this took place there was a temple dedicated to God. The inner temple where the Spirit of God dwelled was separated from the outer temple by a curtain or veil. There was a clear understanding that the Spirit of God was in one place and the spirits of humans in another. Two worlds.
"At the very time of Yeshua's death, this curtain ripped from top to bottom. The inner temple and the outer temple became one temple. No longer was God over there and humans over here. They now lived in the same place. One world of continuous interflow.
"Let me bring this story closer to home," said Story Teller.
"Do you ever take time to sit quietly and think about things?"
Many heads nodded.
"That is called contemplation. It is called that for a reason. In the middle of the word contemplation is the root of the word templum. A templum is a clear open space where diviners or seers would go with a question they wished answered or where they would go and just sit quietly allowing whatever to arise.
"Now become aware of your head," said Story Teller. "Place your hands over your temples."
All did so, some smiling as they began to understand the point of Story Teller's story.
"When you allow a clear open space between your temples, you too can divine, can see."
"Each of us is a temple of our Source. No longer is there a barrier between us and The-One-Who-Breathes-Us. We have direct and open communion if we but allow it."
"Do you understand?"
Many said yes, with pleasant smiles beaming through their faces.
"For those of you who do not, you may wish to take this story with you to your templum, to your clear open space, and let it speak to you."
They arose, talking quietly in small groups, heading for home.
After all were comfortably settled in, Story Teller began.
"Tonight I tell you the story of another Story Teller. Many people liked him and liked his stories, though they did not always understand them. His stories were always simple ones about the visible world but had deeper meanings, pointing to the realities of the visionary world, the world not seen with physical eyes, the spiritual world."
"I do not understand," said a listener. "What eyes do we have besides these in our head?"
"Imagine a rose," said Story Teller. "Can you see it?"
"Yes. It is red, has a long stem with green leaves and with thorns."
"That eye." said Story Teller. "The eye of the imagination. It is no less real than the physical eyes. We use it, see with it all the time but tend to take it for granted and give it little attention. We see a world we call visible and a world we call invisible, yet they are both visible."
Story Teller waited to see if he was understood. The listener smiled with visible relaxation.
"The Story Teller's name was Yeshua. He told the story of our Source which he called our Father. In doing so, he got into trouble with some of the religious folk, with the philosopher story tellers, and eventually with the government.
"How did he get into trouble, Story Teller?" asked a boy.
"He told stories that did not match the stories of the other story tellers. Plus people began liking his stories better. The other story tellers were outraged. Their story teller status was threatened. They had been telling their stories for a long time and were regarded as the ones in the know, the ones who knew what life was all about. Now here was this upstart who said their stories were okay as far as they went, but now that he was here, a new story had begun. They were obsolete."
"More than that, Yeshua had a wisdom the other story tellers did not have. They were constantly exposing themselves to ridicule by trying to trap Yeshua in public debate but were reduced to sputtering withdrawal by his remarks."
"Here is the part of the story of Yeshua I wish to tell you tonight. Eventually the jealous indignant story tellers partnered with the government to have Yeshua killed. In the town where this took place there was a temple dedicated to God. The inner temple where the Spirit of God dwelled was separated from the outer temple by a curtain or veil. There was a clear understanding that the Spirit of God was in one place and the spirits of humans in another. Two worlds.
"At the very time of Yeshua's death, this curtain ripped from top to bottom. The inner temple and the outer temple became one temple. No longer was God over there and humans over here. They now lived in the same place. One world of continuous interflow.
"Let me bring this story closer to home," said Story Teller.
"Do you ever take time to sit quietly and think about things?"
Many heads nodded.
"That is called contemplation. It is called that for a reason. In the middle of the word contemplation is the root of the word templum. A templum is a clear open space where diviners or seers would go with a question they wished answered or where they would go and just sit quietly allowing whatever to arise.
"Now become aware of your head," said Story Teller. "Place your hands over your temples."
All did so, some smiling as they began to understand the point of Story Teller's story.
"When you allow a clear open space between your temples, you too can divine, can see."
"Each of us is a temple of our Source. No longer is there a barrier between us and The-One-Who-Breathes-Us. We have direct and open communion if we but allow it."
"Do you understand?"
Many said yes, with pleasant smiles beaming through their faces.
"For those of you who do not, you may wish to take this story with you to your templum, to your clear open space, and let it speak to you."
They arose, talking quietly in small groups, heading for home.
