Abracadabra!

Friends.  I have made a monumental discovery.

Errrrrrr... well, not really.  Let's try that again:

Friends!  I have made a discovery that doesn't really have that much intrinsic value, but is cool nonetheless!

(Better?)

You see, I was in the Ancient Studies room the other day doing some research for an upcoming proposal and found the ancient source of the oft-yelled "Abracadabra," especially at birthday parties for 7 year old boys.  And you will not believe it...

Yes, the source is from ancient Judaism!  (See why I study this stuff?!)

In the book Amulets and Superstitions by E. A. Wallis Budge, the author explains that anciently, the abracadabra triangle shown above would be inscribed on an amulet of varying materials in order to cure an invalid from a fever.  Here's what the book had to say on the matter:

The formula ABRACADABRA, which was intended to heal a man suffering from fever, belongs to the same class [of amulets]... Many attempts have been made to find a meaning for the formula, but the explanation put forward by Bischoff in his "Kabbalah" (1903) is most likely to be correct.  He derives the formula from the Chaldee words אבדא כדברא i.e. ABBADA KE DABRA, which seem to be addressed to the fever and to mean something like "perish like the word."  

!!!!

So, the next time you chant ABRACADABRA to get the bunny in the hat to disappear, just know that you're really telling it to "perish like the word," which isn't very nice at all.

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The Sacred Partnership Between Intellect and Spirit

I spent the majority of last semester grappling with how to balance the spiritual with the intellectual.  One of my professors made it a focus to help her Ancient Near Eastern Studies students faithfully find the balance between the two.  With all of our talks about Q and historical analysis and the like, I understand that her role as a BYU professor was in part to help us navigate the information faithfully.  One of the big questions asked in the class was How do I participate in this scholarly debate from the framework of a believing, faithful Latter-day Saint?

The dialogue presupposed that the intellectual was opposite the spiritual; that the two exist on a teeter totter that must be balanced–or better, tilted toward the spiritual.  It was helpful.  Really.  It was.  But now I have found myself growing past the either/or paradigm.  

The line between the two–intellect and spirit–have become much more blurred for me; on that teeter totter, they have come to sit much closer to the fulcrum.  It's such a Greek idea, this thought that knowledge and faith are on opposite ends of the spectrum. 

In studying the Scriptures–their history, their languages, their foundations, their context–I have found great joy.  As I have previously posted, I truly feel this is what I am called of God to do.  As such, everything I do to gain understanding and advance therein is a spiritual matter.  My bias is absolutely, then, a spiritual one.  I say this because I have begun to think of my intellect, of the things I learn intellectually, as a method of exercising my spirit.  Knowledge has become one modality of my faith.  

My knowing faith has empowered me to take my hoping faith to more grandiose horizons.

What is "knowing," anyway?  Isn't there an element of choosing to believe involved in even the most concrete things?  Maybe what we term 'knowledge' is in part what is true and in part what we choose to believe as true.  I don't mean to imply that 'fact' or 'truth' is subjective.  I wholeheartedly believe that there is Truth (with a capital T) separate from what I choose to believe is true.  What I am trying to say is that the incorporation of truth into our beings requires us to say, "Yeah, okay, that's plausible and I'm not going to question it."  Even 2+2=4.  You have to say to yourself, "Sure.  2+2=4, I can get behind that."

Nels L. Nelson said that 

knowledge is only half of intelligence. To stop here is to be falsely educated. If, however, the truth perceived becomes a dynamic fact in a man's character; if it is incorporated into his mental attitude, and reacts immediately upon his life; if, in short, it ceases to be something in a man, and becomes the man himself, changing the very . . . [character] of his soul, then knowledge has passed over into power—or character—or wisdom—or, to adopt the term used by Joseph Smith, has passed over into intelligence; and it is such a process alone that represents true education. (Scientific Aspects of Mormonism)

I think that knowing faith is the process of taking Truths and testing them for ourselves, but also choosing within ourselves to say "Okay.  I've tested this principle and it holds water.  Now, I'm going to trust myself, trust God and accept it.  I'm going to make it dynamic fact.  I am going to choose to let it incorporate itself into my person.  I'm going to accept this as fact."

There is a sacred partnership between the intellect and the spirit, then.  Or, maybe they are not two separate entities at all.  The soul, as Joseph Smith put it, is the body and the spirit.  Not mind, body and spirit (as some yoga retreats and spas would have you think), even if I have been taught to value my mind over my body and over my spiritual notions.

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Diwali!

Can we all yell a collective "Huzzah!" for the first of many items to be crossed off of this semester's bucket list?


...Please?

This past weekend, the Mahārājess and I went down to the Spanish Fork Krishna Temple to celebrate the festival of lights, which is (very affectionately) called Diwali.  Basically, Diwali is Thanksgiving and New Year all in one.  


We, being awesome, got ourselves all cute-like (complete with rockin' hats) and drove up to the lower-case 't' temple and parked on the road a few hundred yards off.  We walked up to the lit up temple and both emphatically sighed a deep, cathartic sigh of relief.  I say 'relief' because both the Mahārājess and I needed some non-Provoian perspective.  And then, there we were, surrounded by people who love their religion and that religion is not the Gospel of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.  Granted, there were also a ton of other Mormons.  But, no matter, we were in the midst of an outside culture.

Let's take a few steps back and talk about Diwali.  Diwali is this very complex, very layered festival.  Even to the novice that I am, I was able to spot dozens of symbolisms that struck straight through to the heart of the LDS scholar within me.  


Diwali is a contraction of deepa (lamps) and wali (row), which makes perfect sense because the people of India would light up their homes and the altars of the temples would be adorned with lit candles in order to welcome home the god Sri Rama.  There is significant ancient precedent for the festivals of the new year being the time of the return of deity to earth, as a part of the earth and a people's renewal.  So, okay, score 1 point for the Ancient Near Eastern Studies major, right?  You can read more about all of that here.


Right.

Perhaps the most poignant part of the experience was when we were blessed with abundance and then anointed on the forehead (take a look at the picture of me, above) with kumkum, which is a vermillion paste of dust.  Dust.  Anointing.  Abundance.  Very, very interesting stuff when you look at it through the lens of temple ordinance diffusion.  Take a look at the Mahārājess getting anointed. 


Pretty awesome, no?


The capstone of the evening was each of us receiving a small mound of candle in the center of a lotus leaf.  We all surrounded the small, man-made pond, made wishes with fireworks overhead and set them afloat toward the gods on the other side of the pond. 




It was an incredibly awesome experience.  We both left with a bit of a kick in our step (not to mention a little bit of cow pie).  Check out all of our pictures.

Let's just hope our wishes come true.

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What My Sense of Humor Has Been Reduced To

Some days I feel like Linus, but most I'm Charlie Brown.

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Yom Kippur, Collective Atonement and What I Learned from the Hebrews

Thing I Love About BYU # 337: My Ancient Near Eastern Studies professors - especially Don Parry and Stephen Ricks - are engaged with the students and genuinely joy in helping us to find ourselves within the context of the Hebrew world. (...not to mention that I have serious Gospel crushes on these spiritual giants.)

That being said, last Sunday was the end of Yom Kippur, the Jewish day of Atonement. Brothers Parry and Ricks held a fireside on the east lawn of the Provo Temple at sundown to discuss the hows, whens and whats about this most high holiday. I recently shared a great post about Yom Kippur, Atonement and relation to God from the Exponent.

The Cliff's Notes of the hol(y)day: Yom Kippur is the highest Jewish holy day of the year, wherein the high priest enters the holy of holies and sacrifices for the intentional sins of the individuals in the community. The rest of the year, unintentional sins could be atoned for in two ways: individual sins could be atoned for by each individual through sacrifice at the laver of washing in the outer court of the tabernacle/temple. Unintentional community sins (those sins that only the community could commit collectively, like accidentally practicing a festival on the wrong calendar day) are atoned for by a priest in the holy room (not the holy of holies).

The process for the repentance of unintentional sins makes sense; it's a very latter-day Greek point of view. I sin, so I'm responsible for my sins, so I will individually atone. But this idea of communal atonement made for the most offensive of sins - those which we willingly and knowingly commit - has always been a bit...ambiguous to me. I just couldn't fully comprehend communal repentance for individual sin.

But then, Brother Ricks explained that in Hebrew thought, the individual's identity was tied closely to the community in which they are in context. So, when someone asked 'who are you?', their answer would be something to the effect of 'I'm of the chosen people.' or 'I am of the tribe of Ephraim.' Following this line of thought, a person's sins were not personal, they were a reflection of the contextual group. Something to the effect of some from the camp of Israel have sinned, therefore the camp of Israel is polluted. And so, on the day of Atonement, Yom Kippur, the sins were viewed as communal and thus communal repentance was the bridge to forgiveness and cleansing from pollution incurred throughout the previous year.

Okay, so we're not the ancient Hebrews. We don't practice a single day of Atonement each year. We don't create a scape goat and sacrifice animals. So what, then? So what?

Well, I found myself thinking "What if I viewed my sins as both individual and communal?" I couldn't help but ponder the implications of regarding my sins as affecting not only my status as a faithful daughter of God, but also the status of my community within the world. Would I act differently? Would my ability to withstand temptation be bolstered if I considered my fellow Latter-day Saints before the commission of a sin? Would my repentance feel more authentic if, during the repentance process, I repented for any misgivings I may have caused about my Church and the Gospel standards for both those within and without the Church?

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