From Many, To one: Christ the non-self

Jesus said to Martha: you are worried about many things, there is need of only one thing.  The adulterous woman's sins were many, but when her judges departed, she was left with Christ alone.  On Mount Tabor, Jesus glowed white, and stood beside Moses and Elijah.  After the misguided suggestion to build tents, after the cloud and the fear: Peter, James and John were left, as well, with Christ alone.

In questions of "spiritual becoming," this journey from "many to one" eventually requires the sacrifice of identity itself. [bxA]  No greater representative of this shift exists than the demoniac Legion: when asked his name, he gave it, saying "for we are many."  Initially he lived among the tombs, gashed himself with rocks.  After meeting Jesus, he was found "sitting clothed and in his right mind."

In the epistles, "Christ" is the new name for oneness.  Oneness is our source and summit--it's a cosmic principle, but it specifically eclipses the many egoic roles we play.  The Scriptures say "[Christ] is before all things, and in him all things hold together."  In order to see the process of "students becoming like the teacher" through to its end, the relativization of identity is incumbent on all who would learn thoroughly.  

You have heard of the "confusion of material cravings:" this is the dark night of senses.  You have heard of the "confusion of spiritual ideals:" this is the dark night of spirit.  But perhaps you have yet to hear of the "dark night of the self," or the confusion of identity.   Once we're attuned to this confusion, in the writings of the early Christian community, the theme is impossible to ignore.  

When ambivalence resolves, this "persona built of unknowing" gets a label: Christ.  Expressing that uncertainty, St. Paul says "I do not do what I want, but I do the very thing that I hate...who will free me from this body of death?"  Later, we can see him inching toward integration: Paul's sufferings aren't his personal possession, (for that matter, neither is his bliss).  They aren't material with which he can justifiably build an ego story. He will healthily relabel his suffering and bliss, so that his second letter to the corinthians will acknowledge that they both belong to Christ alone.  Christians are "always carrying in the body the death of Christ" he says "so that the life of Christ may be made known in our mortal bodies also." All suffering is part of Christ's death, all bliss is part of his life.  At the height of integration, Paul will say "I live, but not I, Christ lives in me."   

Returning, for a moment, to Legion: it's worth wondering what the mechanism of "sitting, clothed and in his right mind" was.  Jesus often asked those he healed to contend with non-fulfillment. Legion, healed by Jesus, wanted to get in the boat, but the Lord himself refused and sent him away.  At first, this would have surfaced all manner of resentment.  But it also would have developed the muscles of emotional choice.  Reasons for resentment may endure, but deliberately choosing gratitude fosters health and sanity.

Suffice to say: both emotionally and in terms of identity, Legion had been shaken to his core.  Finding inner stillness entailed emotional choice and "rootedness in the name." I do not know how successful Legion was at "telling his family and friends what God, in his mercy, had done"--but whatever gratitude he felt, he'd have felt while reasons to be resentful remained.  I do not know who Legion eventually decided he was, or even whether such a decision remained an important one.  But I'm certain of this: mantra-like repetition of Jesus' name--as those who pray the "Jesus Prayer" know--acquaints a person with the way everything is sound.  If Legion was like Elijah, he would have "heard the sound of everything" and the vibration of the name would have called ego into question.  It would have specifically targeted and broken up both the stores of physical tension in the body and the afflictive thoughts such tension begets.  It would not surprise me if either identity or strong emotion became, to Legion, less important than returning to the sound of Jesus' name. Vibration can be physically felt, while identities and emotions are just thoughts. If Legion let go of either of them, it would have been to embrace what was more palpable and real.

There's a paradoxical spot where sound and feeling are one, and thoughts of self become less important than remaining with such intense physical feeling.  Elijah encountered it at Horeb, and covered his face.  Christ encountered it on the cross, and surrendered his spirit.  There's a paradoxical spot where weeping and mirth are one, and it calls all our labels into question. When a mixed group of exiles rebuilt the temple, some cried and some laughed, and holy writ says the sounds were indistinguishable from one another.  There's a paradoxical spot where the wound and the healing are one, and it helps us to see others' suffering.  Christ offered Thomas the opportunity to probe this with his hands, and, (perhaps while all his doubts remained unresolved) he exclaimed. 

By becoming nothing, Jesus became everything.  In the light of paradox, Legion would have seen that the self he was giving up never existed anyway.  Legion would have seen that suffering and bliss are just a set of emotions and sensations: sometimes intense, sometimes not, but never a source of identity.  If we listen, we can guess that Legion came viscerally to understand what the formerly rich man Job, that mouthpiece of biblical wisdom, himself understood.  Perhaps, wise words were even, with some frequency, in the demoniac's mouth: he giveth, and he taketh away, blessed be the name of the Lord.  Indeed, blessed are those who hear the Word of God, and do it.