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" Jesus in the Temple of God in Jerusalem
Matthew 21
12: AND JESUS WENT INTO THE TEMPLE OF GOD, AND CAST OUT ALL THEM THAT SOLD AND BOUGHT IN THE TEMPLE, AND OVERTHROW THE TABLES OF THE MONEY-CHANGERS, AND THE SEATS OF THEM THAT SOLD DOVES
Rebellion is individual. It comes out of the truth of one being.
Revolutions are organized, but you can not organize a rebellion.
Revolutions becomes establishment, and then they fail.
Rebellion comes out of the truth and authenticity of one being's heart.
Revolution is organized and political, rebellion is spiritual.
A revolution is of the future, rebellion is here and now.
In revolution, you try to change others, in rebellion you change yourself.
Jesus is a rebel.
Christianity is the organized religion, which appeared after Jesus was murdered.
Christianity is established by the same establishment that Jesus rebelled against.
Jesus is a rebel, who lived out of his own love, truth and understanding.
AND HE SAID TO THEM, IT IS WRITTEN, MY HOUSE SHALL BE CALLED THE HOUSE OF PRAYER
Jesus entered the temple of God in Jerusalem, and saw that the temple had been destryed. It was not a house of prayer.
People were not meditating, people were not praying. The temple was no longer the abode of God.
Priests have always been against God. The talk about God, but they are basically against God. They do not teach truth.
The temple of God in Jerusalem had been destroyed by the priests.
Christianity is based on one simple word: love. But the result of Christianity is wars, murder and crusades.
The priests go on talking about love, but he does not live in love.
AND HE SAID UNTO THEM, IT IS WRITTEN, MY HOUSE SHALL BE CALLED THE HOUSE OF PRAYER; BUT YE HAVE MADE IT A DEN OF THIEVES
Jesus says that the temple of God, is not longer a house of prayer. It is a house of thieves.
AND WHEN HE WAS COME INTO THE TEMPLE, THE CHIEF PRIESTS AND THE ELDERS OF THE PEOPLE CAME UNTO HIM AS HE WAS TEACHING AND SAID, BY WHAT AUTHORITY DOES THOU THESE THINGS? AND WHO GAVE THEE THIS AUTHORITY?
Organized religion always asks about authority, status, as if truth needs some authority, some licensing from the outside.
The priests talks the language of the establishment, even while meeting a mystic like Jesus.
Truth arises from your own being, this is the inner authority.
Truth is born out of your own being.
The priests asks Jesus who has given him the authority to overthrow the tables of the money-changers? Who has given him the authority to change the rules of the temple?
But Jesus did not answer the priests. He remained silent.
Jesus is his own authority.
Jesus whole message is to be your own authority. You are not here to follow anybody.
You are here to be yourself.
Your life is yours. Your love is your inner being.
The priests wanted to arrest Jesus and throw him into prison, but they were afraid of the masses of people who listened to Jesus.
They had to wait for the right moment to arrest him.
The authentic mystic is always a danger to the priests and the organized religion.
When you can allow the yes to be born in you, there is no need to go to a temple.
Then God desends in you.
Whenever a man is ready, God finds him. "
― Swami Dhyan Giten
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" Every dictator is a mystic, and every mystic is a potential dictator. A mystic craves obedience from men, not their agreement. He wants them to surrender their consciousness to his assertions, his edicts, his wishes, his whims—as his consciousness is surrendered to theirs. He wants to deal with men by means of faith and force—he finds no satisfaction in their consent if he must earn it by means of facts and reason. Reason is the enemy he dreads and, simultaneously, considers precarious; reason, to him, is a means of deception; he feels that men possess some power more potent than reason—and only their causeless belief or their forced obedience can give him a sense of security, a proof that he has gained control of the mystic endowment he lacked. His lust is to command, not to convince: conviction requires an act of independence and rests on the absolute of an objective reality. What he seeks is power over reality and over men’s means of perceiving it, their mind, the power to interpose his will between existence and consciousness, as if, by agreeing to fake the reality he orders them to fake, men would, in fact, create it. "
― Ayn Rand
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" Mademoiselle De Lafontaine – in right of her father, who was a German, assumed to be psychological, metaphysical and something of a mystic – now declared that when the moon shone with a light so intense it was well known that it indicated a special spiritual activity. The effect of the full moon in such a state of brilliancy was manifold. It acted on dreams, it acted on lunacy, it acted on nervous people; it had marvelous physical influences connected with life. Mademoiselle related that here cousin, who was mate of a merchant ship, having taken a nap on deck on such a night, lying on his back, with his face full in the light of the moon, had wakened, after a dream of an old woman clawing him by the cheek, with his features horribly drawn to one side; and his countenance had never quite recovered its equilibrium. "
― J. Sheridan Le Fanu , Carmilla
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" The mystics have always stressed the religious aspect of Islam, the rationalists the other one. All the same, both of them have always had difficulties with Islam, simply because it cannot be put into any of their classifications. Take wudu as an example. A mystic will define it as a religious ablution with symbolic meaning. A rationalist will look upon it as a matter of hygiene only. They are both right, but only partly. The defectiveness of the mystic explanation lies in the fact that it lets the hygienic side of wudu become a mere form. Following the same logic in other questions, this approach will reduce Islam to pure religion, by eliminating all physical, intellectual, and social components from it. The rationalists take quite the opposite way. By neglecting the religious side, they degrade Islam to a political movement only, creating a new type of nationalism from it, a so called Islamic nationalism, deprived of ethical-religious substance, empty and equal to all other nationalisms in this regard. To be a Muslim in this case, does not represent an appeal or a duty, a moral or a religious obligation, or any attitude to the universal truth. It means only belonging to a group different from the other one. Islam has never been only a nation. Rather, Islam is a call to a nation, " to enjoin the right and to forbid the wrong" Quran- that is, to perform a moral mission. If we disregard the political component of Islam and accept religious mysticism , we silently admit dependence and slavery. On the contrary, if we ignore the religious component , we cease to be any moral force. "
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" Iain MacGregor,” she whispered longingly, looking up. The woods were quiet. Strips of moonlight shone through tree limbs that reached like surreal black fingertips across her vision. A single tear slid down her cheek. She touched her mouth, imagining his kiss.
Taking a small pocket knife out of her cargo pants, she looked about. A mystic had once told her that if she left pieces of herself around while she lived, it would expand her haunting territory when she died. Jane wasn’t sure she believed in sideshow magic tricks—or the Old Magick as the mystic had spelled it on her sign. She had no idea what had possessed her to talk to the palm reader and ask about ghosts. Still, just in case, she was leaving her stamp all over the woods.
She cut her palm and pressed it to a nearby tree under a branch. Holding the wound to the rough bark stung at first, but then it made her feel better. This forest wouldn’t be a bad eternity.
The sound of running feet erupted behind her and she stiffened. No one ever came out here at night. She’d walked the woods hundreds of times. Her mind instantly went to the creepy girl ghosts chanting by the stream.
“Whoohoo!”
Jane whipped around, startled as a streak of naked flesh sprinted past her. The Scottish voice was met with loud cheers from those who followed him. “Water’s this way, lads, or my name isn’t Raibeart MacGregor, King of the Highlands!”
Another naked man dashed through the forest after him. “It smells of freedom.”
Jane stayed hidden in the branches, undetected, with her hand pressed to the bark.
“Aye, freedom from your proper Cait,” Raibeart answered, his voice coming through the dark where he’d disappeared into the trees.
“Murdoch, stop him before he reaches town. Cait will not teleport ya out of jail again,” a third man yelled, not running quite so fast. “Raibeart, ya are goin’ the wrong way!”
“Och, Angus, my Cait canna live without me,” Murdoch, the second streaker, answered. “She’ll always come to my rescue.”
“I said stop him, Murdoch, we’re new to this place.” Angus skidded to a stop and lifted his jaw, as if sensing he was being watched. He looked in her direction and instantly covered his manhood as his eyes caught Jane’s shocked face in the tree limbs. “Oh, lassie.”
“Oh, naked man,” Jane teased before she could stop herself.
“That I am,” Angus answered, “but there is an explanation for it.”
“I don’t think some things need explained,” Jane said. "
― Michelle M. Pillow , Spellbound (Warlocks MacGregor, #2)
