Progress Through the Purgatories
IMPRIMATUR
E Civitate Vaticana, de 1a aprilis 1950.
Fr. Gabriel Monti, O.E.S.A., Secret.
In the year 1622 a Carmelite father, R. P. Ignatius, was despatched by the Propaganda in Rome to the Nestorians of Mesopotamia. While in Basrah, he met with members of a sect who, as is their custom when dealing with Christians, told him their prophet was St. John the Baptist. From them he obtained a roll illustrated by curious drawings of beings which they described as angels or demons. On his return to Rome Ignatius published a treatise in Latin about this interesting group of heretics whose ceremonies were at once like and unlike those of Oriental Christians, and whose creed was so strangely perverted and pagan.
The scroll found its way into the Museo Borgiano in Rome where Julius Euting saw it in 1879…
Euting persuaded a friend, Dr B. Pförtner, to photograph the scroll. It was published (untranslated) in Strasbourg in 1904…
In her dealings with the Mandaean priests in the swamps of Southern Iraq, E. S. Drower was shown a copy of a mysterious scroll. After long negotiations, she arranged to obtain the original scroll…
The scroll has disappeared and reappeared throughout history…
I feel the pages fall through my fingers as the book spills open in my apartment in San Jose…
NEAR MISS
Banks of the Zab River, Iraq, December 2016.
A man wearing military camouflage and carrying an assault rifle waves for the car to stop. He stubs out the cigarette he’s smoking when he notices the foreigner sitting in the passenger seat. The driver, who had picked me up in Erbil, wishes me a nervous farewell as the Peshmerga officer escorts me into his barracks.
The building is dark, cramped. It overlooks the checkpoint but doesn’t seem to have any windows. The benches and hammocks where the other Peshmerga soldiers rest are situated in a patch of grass outside. There’s a portrait of Masoud Barzani tacked onto the wall. Right next to it is a framed photograph of George W. Bush.
I’m asked to sit in a chair underneath President Bush. They can spot an American from a mile away. Someone comes in with tea. I’m not asked whether I want any sugar in it — they already know the answer: Americans want two cubes. The soldier knows even less English than I know Kurdish. One of the words he knows is passport.
Another couple of soldiers enter the room to stare at me as the first man meticulously flips through my passport, occasionally going back a page when he pretends to notice something suspicious. The other soldiers, much younger than the first, try out some gestures they’ve learned from Hollywood movies: thumbs-ups, hi-fives. Nobody speaks each other’s language but we seem to be having a conversation.
I’m not going to be able to explain to them that I’m hitchhiking across Kurdistan to reach Lalish, the holy mountain of the Yezidis: the place where where Tawsi Melek — the peacock angel — first descended from heaven. Even if the language barrier could be overcome, it would be challenging to explain to the paramilitary why I was interested in visiting a group of Devil-Worshippers who happened to live so close to the Islamic State’s last major foothold north of the Tigris.
Fortunately, no explanations were asked for, and none were given. After a few photographs with President Bush (slayer of Saddam, breaker of chains, great friend of the Kurdish people) I was allowed to return to the dusty highway to thumb my way towards Mosul.
GNOSIS
San Jose, CA, August 11th, 2017.
My Lord be Praised. Pure of Heart. Lord of all Worlds…
From the Place of Light I have come forth… and an uthra from the House of Life accompanied me…
The staff which he held in his hand… was completely full of leaves…
He gave me its branches… of which the ritual books and prayers were full…
The pages spill out and the scroll opens. I see Abatur, the second emanation of the unknowable creator. I see his son, Ptahil, whose disobedience created the world. There are lions, wolves, and tigers in the darkest watchtowers. There are many watchtowers to pass through. In the purgatories are Adam and Eve and Noah and Seth. Absent are Jesus, Moses, and Mohammed — false prophets, forever severed from the River Jordan, the source of all life.
In the past there have been near misses. But now the circle is closing. I can see the boundaries and limitless extension of each watchtower, and understand that I, too, am passing through the purgatories. My encounter with devil-worshippers in Iraq is a near miss. The misses will multiply, the burden increasing, until it is washed clean.
THE STORY OF CREATION
PhD thesis of Sabah Aldihisi, University College London, 2013.
The Mandaeans of the swamps of Southern Iraq are the last surviving Gnostics…
They revere John the Baptist but despise Jesus, Moses, and Mohammed… and have been called Christians of St. John…
They practice communal baptism and have been called baptizers… Baptism is not restricted to childhood but is practiced continually by all members of the community…
The religion is austere. Priests wear simple white robes. Women and men pray separately… The priesthood is inherited…
The Mandaeans believe in two worlds… a world of light and a world of darkness… the Mana Rba (“Great Intelligence”), who dominates the World of Light, issued Hiia Qadmiia, the First Life, from the great “Jordan River” of Life. In turn, the First Life created a son of his own whom he called Yosamin, the Second Life.
The Second Life became infatuated with the idea of creating a world of his own. He transferred this defecting tendency to his son Abatur, the Third Life. Abatur opened the gate of the World of Light, and as soon he gazed into the abyss Ptahil, the Fourth Life, came into being. Ptahil descended to the black waters and created the material world.
…the Lord of Darkness created a kingdom for himself with demonic beings: monsters, dragons, evil spirits and most importantly the “Seven” [planets], and the “Twelve” [signs of the Zodiac] and their mother, the goddess of Darkness, “Ruha”. As a counter move, the World of Light created Manda d-Hiia “Gnosis of Life” in order to put an end to the defection of the uthras [angels] and to conquer the evil forces of the World of Darkness.
Ptahil created Adam but could not make him stand on his feet. Therefore, Ptahil went back to the World of Light and returned with niSimta [the soul] and cast it into Adam’s body. Only then Adam stood on his feet and became aware of his existence.
The core of the Mandaean soteriology is the deliverance of the soul from the perishable body. When death occurs the soul leaves the body and begins a long journey through the maaratia before reaching its final destination: the World of Light.
Lidzbarski has translated the word maaratia as Watch haus...
E. S. Drower has translated it as purgatory…
ANOTHER PURGATORY
Lalish, Iraq, December 2016.
The dead grass crunches under my feet as I slowly climb the mountain. Burrs, thorns are stuck between my toes. A goat stares at me distrustfully. A sheepdog with a splotch of orange spray-paint on its back emerges from behind one of the white stucco tombs on the other side of the valley. It glances at me for a moment before losing interest.
Shoes aren’t permitted in mosques. The Yezidis aren’t Muslims, but the prohibition against footwear still exists, applied to the entire extent of their holy valley.
The valley is filled with the conical apexes of tombs, shrines. A double-coned tomb belongs to Sheikh Adi ibn Musafir, who was an avatar of Tawsi Melek. If it wasn’t for the architecture, this valley could be in Italy, San Jose, Los Angeles. The sun is getting low in the sky and I can already feel a cool breeze rushing in from the horizon.
The Yezidis aren’t gnostics. They worship the visible world. The Yezidis pray facing the sun. In their religion god sent a giant black snake to Lalish to punish those weak in their faith. A peacock angel brought color to the world.
The gnostics despise the world. The only way to escape is through gnosis. But even after death you are still confronted with the purgatories, where your deeds will be summed up and placed on the balance.
I’ve had a near miss. Lalish is another purgatory. This is a place to pass through. There is something greater waiting at the end of the watchtowers…
AGNOSIS
San Jose, CA, August 12th, 2017.
The pages spill out and the scroll opens. I unwrap it and lay it across her naked body. We’re both naked, spread out on the carpet in my tiny studio apartment. We are incapacitated by the unbearable summer heat.
Abatur takes up residence in the House of Boundaries to sublimate that which is good from that which is wicked. In this purgatory he weighs souls upon his cosmological scale. We all suffer. Have the things you’ve suffered in the course of your life subtracted from your soul, or have you remained pure?
I look into her eyes and understand that they are a temporary brown. I have discovered that I am in a watchtower that I will pass through. These two naked bodies, sweating in the unhealthy urban heat, will soon part ways. This purgatory has an end. San Jose is not forever. This is a suffering that will subtract instead of elevate.
She looked at the bizarre cubist figures and felt their ancient, cultic power. I saw infinity. I could see the four walls of my watchtower and wanted nothing other than to escape.
PURGATORIES
Diwan Abatur, 1950.
Then Abatur spoke to Hibil Ziwa and said “You have made me leave my land and my spouses and have made me ‘He-of-the-Scales.’ Those who commit adultery and debauchery —in what Jordan [river] shall I cleanse them? Those who loosen the sacred girdle and worship the seven planets — in what Jordan shall I cleanse them? Those who eat profane foods — in what Jordan shall I cleanse them? Those who dilute the water of prayer, priests who are unworthy yet still go to The House of Treasures — in what Jordan shall I cleanse them?”
Then Hibil Ziwa spoke to Abatur: “Be calm and let virtuous peace of mind descend upon you. Those that commit adultery, debauchery, and profligacy… red will be the rod that strikes them. Those that loosen the girdle and worship the seven planets… those [Zoroastrians] who worship the light of fire… they shall be condemned to the purgatory of Leo and be torn by combs and animals and burned by fire.
“From creation sprang various peoples and nations and languages. They built mosques and worshipped false prophets… some of them worship fire. And some of them glorify the sun… and some of them set up crosses. And as for some of them… evil spirits sit before them and proclaim ‘I am God, worship me!’ and some of them worship and tremble. And some of them glorify and pray to demons who say ‘we are prophets’ and lie.”
Your soul will pass through seven purgatories, each of which will cleanse it of a different sin. Those souls that failed to live up to their potential will remain in the purgatory of Ptahil until they are made perfect and baptized in the Great River Jordan.
In the purgatory of Hibil, son of Ptahil, are souls that perverted justice and gave false witness. A hot and cold flame are loosed against them until their sin is burned away…
The purgatory of the moon occupies two thousand parasangs. In this purgatory are souls who robbed their partners and made them poor while enriching themselves. In this purgatory are executioners who come with the saw and the flog…
In each purgatory the weight of your soul decreases. This is because the world of matter is evil. Only the weightless world of light is free from sin…
Those who kill Mandaeans are tortured in the purgatory of Jupiter. Their blood will be drained until the waters are red…
I have still failed to identify which purgatory I am passing through. I have become aware of my captivity but am powerless to free myself. I have not found Mandaeans in Iraq, only sand, fire, and devil-worshippers. But there is hope…
At the end of the purgatories is a ship. At the front of the ship is Shamish, son of Ruha… Near the mast is Shapandalil, and in his quiver are fifty arrows. Above the stern is Venus; her name is “Treasure” and “Light-Giver” and she is a gem of pure crystal. The ship is called Dawn-of-Day.
CONCEPTION
San Jose, CA, September, 2017.
I stayed late in the office. All the engineers and interns had driven home. The setting sun cast deep shadows across cubicles, monitors, a refrigerator. The lights began flickering off. The shadows multiplied and merged.
I waited until the last person left before I retrieved the scroll from my backpack and began furiously photo-copying it. As of 2017, there were no copies of the Vatican edition of Progress Through the Purgatories available online. Now there is one:
