Meditation in the Book of Revelation

For the ordinary reader of the Bible, the Apocalypse, or Revelation of St. John, is an enigma, a puzzling departure from the clarity and detail which characterizes the balance of the New Testament. Contrasted with the gospel writings, for instance, the Book of Revelation reveals no more of the circumstances under which it was written than a few statements regarding John's exile on Patmos Island and his intention to write to certain Christian communities in Asia Minor. Aside from this meager bit of information, the structure and content of the book seem to be a labyrinth of esoteric symbolism for even the most astute of readers. Modern biblical scholars frequently admit that the complexities of language in John's prophetic vision exceed their best exegetical skills, and even with the fresh insights of current anthropology, archaeology and philology, Revelation remains veiled.

While this may not be cause for alarm to the churches (since they have survived for centuries already without fathoming the esoteric truths of Revelation) still there lingers in our minds the hope that this exceptional book will yield much to help the genuine seeker for God.

Reason and faith alike have been insufficient as expository tools for opening the Apocalypse to our understanding. All we can be sure about is that John was meditating one day and had an extraordinary vision which he evokes for his readers. As unexpected as it may sound, the clue to deciphering Revelation may be just as simple as remembering that he is describing a meditative experience. The whole context of Revelation, in fact, assures us that the author was not presenting a speculative tract on theological topics. Instead, the writing reflects a series of interior experiences of a highly symbolic character. What is more, John starts by telling us what he is doing--meditating--thereby signaling his readers to approach the text in a different way from that of traditional exegesis.

The churches insist that Revelation is divinely inspired, that it belongs officially to the canon and thus deserves faithful study, but they do not provide the key to the hidden significance of the writing. This is of no help to one who seeks ultimate truths. In other words, the traditional acceptance of its place in the scriptures does not relieve the serious student of the task of seeking to unravel the mysteries of the book's elaborate symbolism.

Current biblical criticism has proven unsuccessful in uncovering the real significance of Revelation because its research employs only discursive analysis; the prolonged inability of conventional exegetical methods to illuminate Revelation is virtually assured by the continuing failure to examine the state of consciousness indicated by the author. To move beyond this impasse two guidelines are proposed: first, the process of gradual interiorization, known as nondiscursive meditation, serves as a point of practical departure for the reader and simultaneously provides him with the interpretive key for unlocking the Apocalypse; second, the profound disclosures in John's meditation may be compared profitably with ancient Eastern writings which elucidate the particular state of consciousness which gives rise to them. The latter proposal should not seem out of place when we consider the geographical and cultural situation of the author.

Among the Upanishads (texts of Eastern culture) there are Sanskrit writings which describe in detail the state of consciousness that St. John passed through. These reflect definite steps, or levels of consciousness, which come about by means of the meditative process. In comparing John's experiences with this tradition, then, we are not inferring that hallucinatory, or purely subjective, condition prevailed in him. On the contrary, his personal experiences take on a universal significance when the reader can understand the physical and mental modifications involved in achieving this remarkable state of awareness. Through the insights provided by Eastern texts, then, the Book of Revelation takes on dimension it did not gain from conventional exegesis.

Just as the final goal of Christians is face-to-face knowledge of God, so also do those who follow the Eastern paths to God strive for a similar achievement which they refer to as "conscious union," or yoga. The latter is a Sanskrit term which indicates the path to achievement, and tantric yoga, one of several branches of yoga science, teaches that the normal human body has available an unusual power source residing near the base of the spine. Through the release of this power, the human body and consciousness undergo radical changes in their composition and level of awareness, respectively.

In Sanskrit symbolism this kundalini shakti, or creative force, is visualized as a sleeping serpent coiled at the base of the spine with its mouth covering the actual base. Its power is dormant because of an intoxicating nectar seeping into its mouth through the vertical column known as the sushumna (comparable to the spinal column). The task of the meditator is to awaken and sustain the rising power, or searching serpent.

When the dripping nectar ceases flowing (having been halted deliberately by the aspiring yogi) the serpent awakens and travels upward in search of the missing elixir, and the sushumna, or pathway of upward travel, leads the serpent through a series of seven chakras, or centers of consciousness.

In the makeup of the human individual these chakras are generally associated with the centers located along the length of the spine. Through these centers the endocrine system and the connecting plexuses serve as the physical agencies which manifest the activity of the chakras which are not, however, to be identified with their physical counterparts. The word chakra means "wheel" or "disc" and connotes a vortex of energy, and in nature and function they are far more complex than the physical centers with which they are associated.

The stimulation of these chakras produces changes in consciousness which affect one's mental, moral and vital qualities. It also heightens one's awareness beyond the greatest capacity of rational comprehension. Consequently, when the kundalini rises, one's body, temperament and character undergo a metamorphosis, culminating eventually in an expanded creative consciousness when it reaches the upper source of the nectar-union with God, samadhi, the state of total self-fulfillment.

In this brief essay it is not possible to do justice either to the Book of Revelations or to the yoga counterparts of the experience it describes. Therefore, we will not attempt to give more than a partial summary in order to underscore the similarities between the writings.

Often in manuals of spiritual development, meditation is presented as a reasoned application of the mind upon some great spiritual truth in order to penetrate its meaning and to increase fondness for it. Certainly one may devote mental energies in this direction with profit, but this procedure is not the type of meditation that will lead one to the deeper realms of inner awareness where the Christ-consciousness awaits. This comes from non-discursive meditation, the method known in raja yoga as dhyana, and it is such an experience that John describes in Revelation.

John's Revelation records the spiritual odyssey of Self-realization, which is the aim of all religions, but its credibility can be established only gradually through one's own inner experience. No outer, or objective, evidence could corroborate the inner truth which John experiences, but he is a candidate for the highest initiation; his vision of the Logos reveals his own spiritual self. Just as Jesus had attained the Christ-consciousness, so now the same paradigm of Self-realization is manifested in John: through meditation, John is led to a regeneration of self, a rebirth, a dying of the old self and an awakening to a new life.

In Revelation, then, John traces the development of his self-discovery in an allegory of seven centers, or cities. The Greek word for church means purposeful assembly, and the seven churches, or communities of which John is writing coincide with the seven principal ganglia of the human body and to the seven chakras described in tantric yoga. They are also the seven lampstands, the light, or fields of consciousness, that he depicts as awakening in sequence, and they are the seven seals which interpenetrate the outer, or gross, physical body. Passing through these centers affects a startling metamorphosis in him, for great powers are contained in them. So he carefully mentions the consequences of abusing as well as rewards to be derived from these energizing powers, lest the initiate naively expect automatic success.

John notes that when he hears a trumpet sound, a vision accompanies it. The ancient Sanskrit texts, too, note that the simultaneity of sight and sound has a physiological basis, and that when the chakras are stimulated, meditational awareness often includes definite sounds and colors.

But however fascinating each of these levels of new awareness may be, John must travel further in search of the fullness of divine grace within, for his Self, as the image and likeness of God, is emerging into conscious awareness.

Revelation 2:1 to 3:22 gives a graphic description of the various city-churches occasions the writings of a letter to each of them in which he delivers various kinds of instruction, veiled in highly symbolic terms, to the particular "angel" who receives the letter. He then continues his inner odyssey and describes how he was brought face-to-face with a sacred scroll that bore seven seals. A special "lamb" undertook the breaking of these seals, and with the breaking of each John experiences further visions. Finally the last seal is severed, but instead of a culminating revelation, John experiences only silence.

This entire sequence baffles the scholar as well as the lay reader. Attempts have been made to interpret the symbols by correlating them to the current events of the day, the impending fall of the decaying Roman Empire, foretelling in grotesque fashion its immanent destruction. But at the same time there are recurring themes and figures of speech that one easily recognizes from the earlier gospels.

For those who are familiar with the ancient texts describing the evolution of spiritual growth from the

perspective of consciousness, these Christian symbols bear an uncanny resemblance to those found in the older writings in terms of their colors, sounds and shapes as well as the sequence in which they appear. One can find parallels to them also in the various Books of the Dead that have been translated into English.

What we are suggesting here is that this remarkable narrative of John could have not only a historical basis, but also--and this is crucially important--a fundamentally spiritual one as well, but one whose reality is heavily veiled in the language of symbol.

John, in other words, is experiencing the Christ-consciousness in Revelation; his narrative is an attempt to condense the various levels of its awakening into the language of symbol. In his own way he is confirming its universal message by associating it with the inner transformation of his being.

While many of the Eastern commentaries dwell at great length upon the subtle intricacies of the physical and mental transformations that take place as the energy moves upward, John's short presentation covers only the barest outline. His limited descriptions should be filled in by the aspirant's own experience in meditation, for everyone must learn for himself the process of self-conquest and experience personally the new birth of oneself as a spiritual being. Each one, as a sacrificial lamb, must liberate the chakras and acquire the spiritual prizes.

The most startling insight to be gained from comparing the tantric texts with the Book of Revelation is their mutual agreement that dhyana, or meditation, can eventually lead to a direct experience of God. If this is correct, then a number of problem areas intrinsic to institutionalized Christianity are eliminated. For one thing, intuition, or the direct experience of spiritual truth, supplants dogma, or belief, as the basis of religion. The merely tentative security of formal beliefs yields to the real knowledge of divine realities. Faith is necessary only to the extent that one accept the hypothesis that it is possible to come to the ultimately real through the meditational method. Thus, the experiential process dispenses with the insecurity of authoritative religion, and faith is replaced by conviction. Reaching the higher levels of consciousness and witnessing reality for oneself leads the true disciple far beyond the disillusionment that frequently separates Christian sectarians.

Though the method whereby one acquires an understanding of John's Revelation may disturb some Western Christians, it is only by patient self-exposure to the path of meditation that the aspiring knower will really attain high wisdom. Intellectual assent to religious truths will not earn salvation. Faith in the possibilities shown in Revelation may launch the adventure of meditation, but even faith cannot provide the experience that leads to total rebirth. Only by transcending faith and reason, both of which are based in finite experience, and by practicing meditation, can one begin to grasp the significance of Self-realization in Christ-consciousness. The greatest of Christian leaders are those who demonstrate the fruits of Self-realization in their own lives and induce in others a similar experience.

As scientific research in the areas of biofeedback and the resulting conscious extension of human volition over the autonomic systems continues, a wider understanding of human potentiality results. We are beginning to learn that man, in his body, mind and spirit, is more endowed than previously suspected, and these scientific probings will definitely have their impact upon man as a religious being. In other words, the continuing comparing of ancient texts with modern laboratory findings can shed new light upon the ancient wisdom that grounds a true religious belief in the destiny of man.