In theology, as in
all important things in ancient Egypt, architecture is key to understanding.
Grand temples typically have large courtyards, connected through an axis to
different halls, overlooking a sacred lake, behind which is the sanctum
sanctorum, the place of secrets, barred to all but a select few.
اضافة اعلان
Temples were portrayed to the masses as houses of
the gods. In reality they were houses of life. And nothing houses more vibrant
life than humans. This is why ancient Egypt’s temples were in reality
representations of humanity — metaphorically and literally.
Viewed correctly, Egyptian temples’ designs followed
that of the human form — something many luminary architects applied, centuries
later, in constructing grand Catholic cathedrals in Europe.
Metaphorically, the focus was on what forms a human,
rather than what makes the human form functions.
This followed how religion was designed and
practiced in ancient Egypt. The functioning was the exterior of the religion,
the rituals presented to the masses to follow. The form, however, referred to
the interior of the religion, the essence of the human.
Ancient Egypt believed the human to be the greatest
living creature in existence — not out of hubristic sense of superiority to
other living things, but because the human was believed to be a representation
of the divine. This was the origin of the idea of man being created in the
image of God. That is, the human contained within him/her a divine spark which
made them a representation of that divine core.
Representation meant a link between the inner
divinity and outer form that lives life, makes choices, and experiences the
world.
The inner divinity is part of the divine whole,
omnipresent throughout the universe, pervading all existence, including in
every human. But, in this view, it is through choices and actions that each
human represents the divine differently, uniquely actually.
This view catapulting humans to divinity, was some
sort of apotheosis. It also put a colossal responsibility on every human being.
The apotheosis was in endowing every human with a
divine self — an inner dwelling spark from (of) God, — that by its mere
existence connects every human directly to the essence of the divine. This
veneration and spiritual elevation of mankind was a step-change in human
history. Some of the most refined philosophical teachings that came later
followed in the same direction.
The colossal
responsibility was the result of having a cause and effect relationship between
humans’ actions and representing the divine. Here, humans’ choices are not
causes for rewards and punishment in the way many later religions taught.
Ancient Egyptian theology reserved rewards and punishment for the masses who,
the guardians of ancient Egyptian religion believed, were not able to conceive
of the true conception of the divine. For those keepers of secrets, the reality
was that each human, through his/her actions, was creating the life that the
divine self in him/her experienced. In this way, humans’ actions determine not
just the worth of their own lives, but crucially the merit — or the quality —
with which they represent the divine.
This idea extolled goodness, but also achievement.
Goodness, in ancient Egyptian theology was a route to human refinement. And
refinement was crucial for truly representing the divine.
Achievement carried equal weight, for if human lives
are routes for the divine to experience existence, then self-achievement is
fulfillment of divine purpose — meaning: the divine realizes the purpose of
being in that human if that human realizes his/her maximum potential. This is
one understanding of the notion that achieving the maximum one can do — and can
be — is the narrow gate to entering the kingdom of heaven within.
This idea extolled goodness, but also achievement. Goodness, in ancient Egyptian theology was a route to human refinement. And refinement was crucial for truly representing the divine.
In this understanding, the inner divine spark, the
divine self within, and the kingdom of heaven that is inside humans, are almost
synonymous.
Ancient Egypt indeed emphasized that this road to
the inner divine spark, the gate leading to self-fulfillment, is narrow. It is
the idea of self-jihad (fighting one’s tendencies to excesses) that Sufists
invoke as key to any “path toward knowing”.
Knowing was important in ancient Egypt. Knowledge
was protected; the meanings of the temples’ designs were hidden; the ideas at
the core of the civilization’s understanding of divinity and humanity were
veiled. And for the truths to be unveiled to someone, he/she needed to be a
seeker, needed to pass the narrow gate and walk the difficult road. The more
the discipline, the more the self-control, the more of achieving the most that
the person can do and be, the more the unveiling, up to the point where
knowledge and faith merge and ascend into knowing.
Ancient Egyptian mythology, at the apex of its
refinement, presented a subtle image of this journey through combining the
notions of Amun and Ra.
Amun was presented to the masses as the chief of the
gods — akin, later on, to Zeus in Greek mythology. For the select, however,
Amun was the undefined, not because he is undefined, but because human
rationality cannot perceive true infinity. Amun was the unlimited, because the
human mind always thinks in terms of the relative. This is why Amun denoted
that, which is beyond conception, the Absolute.
Ra was essentially light – fighting darkness every
day, and roaming the sky protecting his realm from powers that fight dawn, that
limit growth.
Through attempting to understand Amun, human beings
connect with their inner divinity, though never fully comprehend the essence of
divinity. Through attempting to emulate Ra, human beings fight their inner
demons, pursue self-control, be on the road to illumination, but never truly
achieve it. Hence the repetition of the cycle of night and day, of death and
birth.
Together, Amun and Ra connect man’s intellect, and
search for his/her essence, with the divine that resides at the core of that
essence. Together they connect man’s daily struggles, primarily against his/her
self, with his potential apotheosis to be a marvelous representation of
his/her creator.
Tarek Osman is an author, essayist, and broadcaster.
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