Continuing my series of posts on the Gospel of Truth.
For this reason, do not take error too seriously. Thus, since it had no root, it was in a fog as regards the Father, engaged in preparing works and forgetfulnesses and fears in order, by these means, to beguile those of the middle and to make them captive. The forgetfulness of error was not revealed. It did not become light beside the Father. Forgetfulness did not exist with the Father, although it existed because of him. What exists in him is knowledge, which was revealed so that forgetfulness might be destroyed and that they might know the Father, Since forgetfulness existed because they did not know the Father, if they then come to know the Father, from that moment on forgetfulness will cease to exist.
“This reason” to not take error seriously was discussed in the last post: error is nothing but a fog borne of getting caught up into the wrong way of looking at things. A Greek word translated here as “ignorance” is agnosia; though this is the root from which we derive the word ‘agnostic’, it refers to being without (a-) gnosis (gnosia).
There is another similar bit of wordplay going on in the opening of the Gospel of Truth. The word commonly translated as “truth” is aletheia. This word also begins with the prefix a-, added to the root letheia, which means “forgetfulness.” (In Greek mythology, Lethe was the name for a river of Hades, which would cause you to forget everything if you drank of it.) So we have a direct pair of contrasts here:
|truth (memory, revelation of what is concealed)||vs.||forgetfulness (concealing of truth)|
|gnosis (acquaintance, familiarity, attunement)||vs.||agnosia (ignorance)|
Forgetfulness is a theme that comes up throughout the Gnostic scripture. The underlying notion is that we’ve been made to forget our true nature, and that developing a state of gnosis of the Father is a really a process like remembering something we already knew but had forgotten. See for example the Hymn of the Pearl, which tells a story about a prince sent on a quest, but who has fallen under a spell and forgotten who he was or what he was seeking. Before he can complete his quest, he first has to remember who he is!
“Root” is a term that shows up in the untitled Nag Hammadi text known to scholars as the Valentinian Exposition. There we find several times “Root of the All” as a name for the Father. Recall, the aions, the members of the Pleroma, are always described as having organic origin – as being begotten of another aion. “Root of All” is a very evocative notion, providing a vivid image of things in the cosmos existing as branches of a tree, of which the Father is the root. It also depicts a cosmic order like a tree, of which every part is rooted into the ground. But error, forgetfulness, “had no root.”
Who are “those of the middle”? To answer this we have to consider a threefold distinction between types of nature, hinted at in the writings of Paul and made more explicit in the writings of the Valentinians.
- The pneumatic, or spiritual, is that which is already in tune with God, and therefore is not in need of guidance. It is on the path to full reconciliation with the Father and therefore to re-enter the Pleroma.
- The hylic, or material, is that which is fashioned from the fog of error and, being no part of the genuine order, will eventually simply dissolve. It is maya.
- The middle nature is called psychic. The modern English use of the word ‘psychic’ is a bit off from the original Greek meaning, ‘soul,’ in the sense of that which characterizes what is alive and animate. The psychic nature has the potential to be reconciled with the Father… but it also has the potential to simply dissolve.
Valentinus saw this three-fold distinction reflected in the lives of people around him. Not in the sense of saying that there are three “types” of people; rather, it is a way of thinking about the decisions people make and the actions they take. He was opposed to the very idea of fate or destiny, believing it to be a trick to keep the spirit into remaining intertwined with error. To look at it from the perspective of fate, it is everyone’s “fate” to remain entangled in the fog of error created by the demiurge; that there are not one but two ways to escape from the fog of error is a “hack” provided by the Father and the Logos. But to take the pathways out of error and liberate oneself from the fate built by error requires conscious choice and deliberate effort. It requires metanoia. It requires rightness of action.
This notion has existed in many forms in Christian teaching; it is not exclusive to the Gnostics. For example, in Eastern Orthodoxy, there is the threefold path of theosis, of becoming like God. This is a path that requires both faith and action, inward change as well as outward change. This is the way by which those who have led a psychic life can still attain reconciliation with the Father. But it contrasts with the Protestant notion that salvation comes by faith alone, which implies that salvation is an “on or off switch,” like a toggle – where you either have it or you don’t. The Gnostic view teaches that salvation is an ongoing process.
Those whose actions reflect a pneumatic nature do not need as much guidance to achieve or maintain attunement with the Father. They are called upon instead to help provide that guidance to those who need it — “those of the middle,” who are in more danger of making choices that will lead them on a destructive path.
Valentinus goes on to say what will happen to those who accomplish this: “if they then come to know the Father, from that moment on forgetfulness will cease to exist.” To use a metaphor from a later portion of the Gospel of Truth, it is like waking up in the morning. The fearsome foes who menaced you in your dreams do not even fade or retreat; they were never real to begin with.
Earlier posts in this series: