Andrew Sullivan: Christianity in Crisis

The crisis of contemporary Christianity is not a sign of the death of Jesus's teaching but a sign of its transformation. Institutional Christianity, corrupted by politics and power, is passing away. But Jesus himself, recovered in his authentic mystical form, emerges more powerfully than ever before. He emerges as a guide to inner transformation, as a teacher of the Kingdom of God within, as a promise of the Holy Spirit that can be given to all believers. In this emergence, Jesus becomes not a figure of the past but a living presence guiding humanity through its greatest spiritual transformation. This is how Jesus emerges more powerfully and more purely and more intensely relevant to our times.

Andrew Sullivan: Christianity in Crisis
Apr 2, 2012 1:00 AM EDT

Christianity has been destroyed by politics, priests, and get-rich evangelists. Ignore them, writes Andrew Sullivan, and embrace Him.

If you go to the second floor of the National Museum of American History in Washington, D.C., you'll find a small room containing an 18th-century Bible whose pages are full of holes. They are carefully razor-cut empty spaces, so this was not an act of vandalism. It was, rather, a project begun by Thomas Jefferson when he was 77 years old. Painstakingly removing those passages he thought reflected the actual teachings of Jesus of Nazareth, Jefferson literally cut and pasted them into a slimmer, different New Testament, and left behind the remnants (all on display until July 15). What did he edit out? He told us: "We must reduce our volume to the simple evangelists, select, even from them, the very words only of Jesus.” He removed what he felt were the "misconceptions" of Jesus' followers, "expressing unintelligibly for others what they had not understood themselves.” And it wasn't hard for him. He described the difference between the real Jesus and the evangelists' embellishments as "diamonds" in a "dunghill," glittering as "the most sublime and benevolent code of morals which has ever been offered to man.” Yes, he was calling vast parts of the Bible religious manure.

When we think of Jefferson as the great architect of the separation of church and state, this, perhaps, was what he meant by "church": the purest, simplest, apolitical Christianity, purged of the agendas of those who had sought to use Jesus to advance their own power decades and centuries after Jesus' death. If Jefferson's greatest political legacy was the Declaration of Independence, this pure, precious moral teaching was his religious legacy. "I am a real Christian," Jefferson insisted against the fundamentalists and clerics of his time. "That is to say, a disciple of the doctrines of Jesus.”

What were those doctrines? Not the supernatural claims that, fused with politics and power, gave successive generations wars, inquisitions, pogroms, reformations, and counterreformations. Jesus' doctrines were the practical commandments, the truly radical ideas that immediately leap out in the simple stories he told and which he exemplified in everything he did. Not simply love one another, but love your enemy and forgive those who harm you; give up all material wealth; love the ineffable Being behind all things, and know that this Being is actually your truest Father, in whose image you were made. Above all: give up power over others, because power, if it is to be effective, ultimately requires the threat of violence, and violence is incompatible with the total acceptance and love of all other human beings that is at the sacred heart of Jesus' teaching. That's why, in his final apolitical act, Jesus never defended his innocence at trial, never resisted his crucifixion, and even turned to those nailing his hands to the wood on the cross and forgave them, and loved them.

Politicized Faith

Whether or not you believe, as I do, in Jesus' divinity and resurrection—and in the importance of celebrating both on Easter Sunday—Jefferson's point is crucially important. Because it was Jesus' point. What does it matter how strictly you proclaim your belief in various doctrines if you do not live as these doctrines demand? What is politics if not a dangerous temptation toward controlling others rather than reforming oneself? If we return to what Jesus actually asked us to do and to be—rather than the unknowable intricacies of what we believe he was—he actually emerges more powerfully and more purely. And more intensely relevant to our times.

Jefferson's vision of a simpler, purer, apolitical Christianity couldn't be further from the 21st-century American reality. We inhabit a polity now saturated with religion. On one side, the Republican base is made up of evangelical Protestants who believe that religion must consume and influence every aspect of public life. On the other side, the last Democratic primary had candidates profess their faith in public forums, and more recently President Obama appeared at the National Prayer Breakfast, invoking Jesus to defend his plan for universal health care. The crisis of Christianity is perhaps best captured in the new meaning of the word "secular.” It once meant belief in separating the spheres of faith and politics; it now means, for many, simply atheism. The ability to be faithful in a religious space and reasonable in a political one has atrophied before our eyes.

Organized Religion in Decline

Meanwhile, organized religion itself is in trouble. The Catholic Church's hierarchy lost much of its authority over the American flock with the unilateral prohibition of the pill in 1968 by Pope Paul VI. But in the last decade, whatever shred of moral authority that remained has evaporated. The hierarchy was exposed as enabling, and then covering up, an international conspiracy to abuse and rape countless youths and children. I don't know what greater indictment of a church's authority there can be—except the refusal, even now, of the entire leadership to face their responsibility and resign. Instead, they obsess about others' sex lives, about who is entitled to civil marriage, and about who pays for birth control in health insurance. Inequality, poverty, even the torture institutionalized by the government after 9/11: these issues attract far less of their public attention.

For their part, the mainline Protestant churches, which long promoted religious moderation, have rapidly declined in the past 50 years. Evangelical Protestantism has stepped into the vacuum, but it has serious defects of its own. As New York Times columnist Ross Dou that explores in his unsparing new book, Bad Religion: How We Became a Nation of Heretics, many suburban evangelicals embrace a gospel of prosperity, which teaches that living a Christian life will make you successful and rich. Others defend a rigid biblical literalism, adamantly wishing away a century and a half of scholarship that has clearly shown that the canonized Gospels were written decades after Jesus' ministry, and are copies of copies of stories told by those with fallible memory. Still others insist that the earth is merely 6,000 years old—something we now know by the light of reason and science is simply untrue. And what group of Americans have pollsters found to be most supportive of torturing terror suspects? Evangelical Christians. Something has gone very wrong. These are impulses born of panic in the face of modernity, and fear before an amorphous "other.” This version of Christianity could not contrast more strongly with Jesus' constant refrain: "Be not afraid.” It would make Jefferson shudder.

It would also, one imagines, baffle Jesus of Nazareth. The issues that Christianity obsesses over today simply do not appear in either Jefferson's or the original New Testament. Jesus never spoke of homosexuality or abortion, and his only remarks on marriage were a condemnation of divorce (now commonplace among American Christians) and forgiveness for adultery. The family? He disowned his parents in public as a teen, and told his followers to abandon theirs if they wanted to follow him. Sex? He was a celibate who, along with his followers, anticipated an imminent End of the World where reproduction was completely irrelevant.

The Crisis of Our Time

All of which is to say something so obvious it is almost taboo: Christianity itself is in crisis. It seems no accident to me that so many Christians now embrace materialist self-help rather than ascetic self-denial—or that most Catholics, even regular churchgoers, have tuned out the hierarchy in embarrassment or disgust. Given this crisis, it is no surprise that the fastest-growing segment of belief among the young is atheism, which has leapt in popularity in the new millennium. Nor is it a shock that so many have turned away from organized Christianity and toward "spirituality," co-opting or adapting the practices of meditation or yoga, or wandering as lapsed Catholics in an inquisitive spiritual desert. The thirst for God is still there. How could it not be, when the profoundest human questions—Why does the universe exist rather than nothing? How did humanity come to be on this remote blue speck of a planet? What happens to us after death?—remain as pressing and mysterious as they've always been?

That's why polls show a huge majority of Americans still believing in a Higher Power. But the need for new questioning—of Christian institutions as well as ideas and priorities—is as real as the crisis is deep.

Back to Jesus

Where to start? Jefferson's act of cutting out those parts of the Bible that offended his moral and scientific imagination is one approach. But another can be found in the life of a well-to-do son of a fabric trader in 12th-century Italy who went off to fight a war with a neighboring city, saw his friends killed in battle in front of him, lived a year as a prisoner of war, and then experienced a clarifying vision that changed the world. In Francis of Assisi: A New Biography, Augustine Thompson cuts through the legends and apocryphal prayers to describe Saint Francis as he truly lived. Gone are the fashionable stories of an erstwhile hippie, communing with flowers and animals. Instead we have this typical young secular figure who suddenly found peace in service to those he previously shrank from: lepers, whose sores and lesions he tended to and whose company he sought—as much as for himself as for them.

The religious order that goes by his name began quite simply with a couple of friends who were captured by the sheer spiritual intensity of how Francis lived. His inspiration was even purer than Jefferson's. He did not cut out passages of the Gospels to render them more reasonable than they appear to the modern mind. He simply opened the Gospels at random—as was often the custom at the time—and found three passages. They told him to "sell what you have and give to the poor," to "take nothing for your journey," not even a second tunic, and to "deny himself" and follow the path of Jesus. That was it. So Francis renounced his inheritance, becoming homeless and earning food by manual labor. When that wouldn't feed him, he begged, just for food—with the indignity of begging part of his spiritual humbling.

Francis insisted on living utterly without power over others. As stories of his strangeness and holiness spread, more joined him and he faced a real dilemma: how to lead a group of men, and also some women, in an organization. Suddenly, faith met politics. And it tormented, wracked, and almost killed him. He had to be last, not first. He wanted to be always the "lesser brother," not the founder of an order. And so he would often go on pilgrimages and ask others to run things. Or he would sit at the feet of his brothers at communal meetings and if an issue could not be resolved without his say-so, he would whisper in the leader's ear.

A Vision of Holiness

As Jesus was without politics, so was Francis. As Jesus fled from crowds, so did Francis—often to bare shacks in woodlands, to pray and be with God and nature. It's critical to recall that he did not do this in rebellion against orthodoxy or even church authority. He obeyed orders from bishops and even the pope himself. His main obsession wasn't nature, which came to sublime fruition in his final "Canticle of the Sun," but the cleanliness of the cloths, chalices, and ornaments surrounding the holy eucharist.

His revulsion at even the hint of comfort or wealth could be extreme. As he lay dying and was offered a pillow to rest on, he slept through the night only to wake the next day in a rage, hitting the monk who had given him the pillow and recoiling in disgust at his own weakness in accepting its balm. One of his few commands was that his brothers never ride a horse; they had to walk or ride a donkey. What inspired his fellow Christians to rebuild and reform the church in his day was simply his own example of humility, service, and sanctity.

A modern person would see such a man as crazy, and there were many at the time who thought so too. He sang sermons in the streets, sometimes just miming them. He suffered intense bouts of doubt, self-loathing, and depression. He had visions. You could have diagnosed his postwar conversion as an outgrowth of post traumatic-stress disorder. Or you can simply observe what those around him testified to: something special, unique, mysterious, holy. To reduce one's life to essentials, to ask merely for daily bread, forgiveness of others, and denial of self is, in many ways, a form of madness. It is also a form of liberation. It lets go of complexity and focuses on simplicity. Francis did not found an order designed to think or control. He insisted on the simplicity of manual labor, prayer, and the sacraments. That was enough for him.

Learning How to Live

It wouldn't be enough for most of us. And yet, there can be wisdom in the acceptance of mystery. I've pondered the Incarnation my whole life. I've read theology and history. I think I grasp what it means to be both God and human—but I don't think my understanding is any richer than my Irish grandmother's. Barely literate, she would lose herself in the rosary at mass. In her simplicity, beneath her veil in front of a cascade of flickering candles, she seemed to know God more deeply than I, with all my education and privilege, ever will.

This doesn't imply, as some claim, the privatization of faith, or its relegation to a subordinate sphere. There are times when great injustices—slavery, imperialism, totalitarianism, segregation—require spiritual mobilization and public witness. But from Gandhi to King, the greatest examples of these movements renounce power as well. They embrace nonviolence as a moral example, and that paradox changes the world more than politics or violence ever can or will. When politics is necessary, as it is, the kind of Christianity I am describing seeks always to translate religious truths into reasoned, secular arguments that can appeal to those of other faiths and none at all. But it also means, at times, renouncing Caesar in favor of the Christ to whom Jefferson, Francis, my grandmother, and countless generations of believers have selflessly devoted themselves.

The saints, after all, became known as saints not because of their success in fighting political battles, or winning a few news cycles, or funding an anti-abortion super PAC. They were saints purely and simply because of the way they lived. And this, of course, was Jefferson's deeply American insight: "No man can conform his faith to the dictates of another. The life and essence of religion consists in the internal persuasion or belief of the mind.”

Jefferson feared that the alternative to a Christianity founded on "internal persuasion" was a revival of the brutal, bloody wars of religion that America was founded to escape. And what he grasped in his sacrilegious mutilation of a sacred text was the core simplicity of Jesus' message of renunciation. He believed that stripped of the doctrines of the Incarnation, Resurrection, and the various miracles, the message of Jesus was the deepest miracle. And that it was radically simple. It was explained in stories, parables, and metaphors—not theological doctrines of immense complexity. It was proven by his willingness to submit himself to an unjustified execution. The cross itself was not the point; nor was the intense physical suffering he endured. The point was how he conducted himself through it all—calm, loving, accepting, radically surrendering even the basic control of his own body and telling us that this was what it means to truly transcend our world and be with God. Jesus, like Francis, was a homeless person, as were his closest followers. He possessed nothing—and thereby everything.

Christianity Resurrected

I have no concrete idea how Christianity will wrestle free of its current crisis, of its distractions and temptations, and above all its enmeshment with the things of this world. But I do know it won't happen by even more furious denunciations of others, by focusing on politics rather than prayer, by concerning ourselves with the sex lives and heretical thoughts of others rather than with the constant struggle to liberate ourselves from what keeps us from God. What Jefferson saw in Jesus of Nazareth was utterly compatible with reason and with the future; what Saint Francis trusted in was the simple, terrifying love of God for Creation itself. That never ends.

This Christianity comes not from the head or the gut, but from the soul. It is as meek as it is quietly liberating. It does not seize the moment; it lets it be. It doesn't seek worldly recognition, or success, and it flees from power and wealth. It is the religion of unachievement. And it is not afraid. In the anxious, crammed lives of our modern twittering souls, in the materialist obsessions we cling to for security in recession, in a world where sectarian extremism threatens to unleash mass destruction, this sheer Christianity, seeking truth without the expectation of resolution, simply living each day doing what we can to fulfill God's will, is more vital than ever. It may, in fact, be the only spiritual transformation that can in the end transcend the nagging emptiness of our late-capitalist lives, or the cult of distracting contemporaneity, or the threat of apocalyptic war where Jesus once walked. You see attempts to find this everywhere—from experimental spirituality to resurgent fundamentalism. Something inside is telling us we need radical spiritual change.

But the essence of this change has been with us, and defining our own civilization, for two millennia. And one day soon, when politics and doctrine and pride recede, it will rise again.

Andrew Sullivan: Christianity in Crisis
Apr 2, 2012 1:00 AM EDT

Andrew Sullivan, former editor of The New Republic, weekly columnist for the Sunday Times of London, brought his hugely popular blog, The Dish, to the Daily Beast in 2011. He's the author of several books, including"Virtually Normal," "Love Undetectable," and"The Conservative Soul.”
For inquiries, please contact The Daily Beast ateditorial@thedailybeast.com.
Web (October 20, 2013)

---

Jesus Emerges More Powerfully: The Paraclete's Completion of Christ's Message in Contemporary Times

1. Introduction: Christianity in Crisis and the Return to Authenticity

Christianity in the early twenty-first century faces a profound crisis of relevance and credibility. Institutional churches have become entangled with political power, corrupted by scandals, and increasingly disconnected from the spiritual hunger that drives millions of seekers toward alternative spiritual traditions. This crisis is not new—it has been building for centuries—but it has reached a critical juncture where the very foundations of Christian faith are being questioned by believers and non-believers alike. Yet within this crisis lies a remarkable paradox: the figure of Jesus Christ himself remains profoundly compelling to contemporary seekers, even as institutional Christianity loses its moral authority.

This paper explores a provocative theological proposition: that Jesus emerges more powerfully, more purely, and more intensely relevant to our times precisely when the institutional structures built in his name are stripped away. More specifically, this paper examines the interpretation that Jesus's emergence in contemporary times is inseparable from the completion of his unfulfilled promises through the work of Shri Mataji Nirmala Devi, understood in this tradition as the Paraclete or Holy Spirit promised by Jesus himself.

The argument proceeds from a fundamental observation: Jesus's original teachings, when examined carefully across the canonical Gospels and apocryphal texts, reveal a figure far more radical, mystical, and transformative than institutional Christianity has typically portrayed. Jesus was not primarily concerned with doctrinal correctness or institutional authority. Rather, he taught about direct inner transformation, the Kingdom of God within every human being, and the awakening of divine consciousness. When these authentic teachings are recovered and understood in their original mystical context, Jesus emerges as a divine mystic whose message is not only compatible with contemporary spiritual seekers but profoundly addresses the deepest spiritual crises of our age.

2. Andrew Sullivan's Thesis: The Emergence of Authentic Jesus

The contemporary journalist and theologian Andrew Sullivan has articulated a thesis that serves as the foundational argument for this paper. [1] Sullivan observes that when we return to what Jesus actually asked us to do and to be—rather than focusing on the unknowable intricacies of what we believe he was—he actually emerges more powerfully and more purely, and more intensely relevant to our times.

Sullivan's argument begins with a historical observation: Christianity has been systematically destroyed by politics, priests, and get-rich evangelists who have used Jesus's name to advance their own power and wealth. The institutional church, rather than embodying Jesus's teachings of humility, service, and sanctity, has become a vehicle for worldly ambition and political control. This corruption is not incidental to Christianity; it is central to understanding why the faith has lost its moral authority in the contemporary world.

Sullivan illustrates his thesis through the example of Thomas Jefferson, the American founding father who famously created his own version of the Gospel by cutting out passages he considered incompatible with reason and morality. [1] Jefferson removed the supernatural claims and kept only the ethical teachings—the practical commandments that Jesus exemplified in his life. These teachings included the radical imperatives: give up all material wealth, love your enemy and forgive those who harm you, and renounce power over others because power ultimately requires violence, which is incompatible with Jesus's teaching of total love and acceptance.

Sullivan further illustrates this principle through the life of Saint Francis of Assisi, who did not cut out passages of the Gospels but instead lived them with radical literalism. [1] Francis opened the Gospels at random and found three passages commanding him to sell what he had and give to the poor, to take nothing for his journey, and to deny himself and follow Jesus. Francis obeyed these commands literally, becoming homeless and begging for food. What inspired his followers was not doctrine but his own example of humility, service, and sanctity—the sheer spiritual intensity of how he lived.

The implication of Sullivan's analysis is clear: Jesus emerges most powerfully when we strip away institutional corruption and return to his authentic teachings about inner transformation, humility, and love. This emergence is not theoretical or doctrinal; it is practical and transformative. It addresses the deepest spiritual hunger of contemporary seekers who are increasingly turning away from institutional religion while remaining drawn to Jesus as a figure of spiritual authenticity and power.

3. Jesus as Divine Mystic: The Kingdom Within

When Jesus's teachings are examined through the lens of mystical theology rather than institutional doctrine, a radically different portrait emerges. Jesus was not primarily a founder of a religious institution or a source of doctrinal claims. Rather, Jesus was a divine mystic whose central message was about the Kingdom of God within every human being.

This interpretation is supported by Jesus's own explicit teaching recorded in Luke 17:20-21, where Jesus declares: The kingdom of God is not coming with things that can be observed; nor will they say, 'Look, here it is!' or 'There it is!' For, in fact, the kingdom of God is within you. [2] This teaching is revolutionary in its implications. The Kingdom of God is not a future event to be awaited, nor a place to be reached, nor a reward to be earned through correct belief. Rather, it is a present reality, an inner dimension of consciousness accessible to every human being.

This mystical understanding of Jesus's teaching is further supported by the Gospel of Thomas, a non-canonical text that many scholars believe preserves some of Jesus's most authentic sayings. [3] In Saying 70, Jesus declares: If you bring forth what is within you, what you bring forth will save you. This teaching emphasizes the actualization of inner divine potential. Salvation, in this mystical understanding, is not external redemption through belief in Jesus's divinity or resurrection. Rather, salvation is the realization of one's true nature, the integration of the divine within oneself, the achievement of wholeness and authenticity.

The implications of this mystical understanding are profound. If Jesus's central teaching was about the Kingdom of God within, then the purpose of his ministry was to guide his followers toward the direct experience of this inner Kingdom. This was not a teaching about belief but about transformation. It was not about doctrine but about practice. It was not about external authority but about inner awakening.

Institutional Christianity, by contrast, has systematically obscured this mystical teaching. Instead of emphasizing inner transformation, institutional Christianity has emphasized correct belief about Jesus. Instead of pointing toward the Kingdom within, it has created external structures of authority and power. Instead of teaching direct inner experience, it has mediated access to the divine through priests, sacraments, and doctrinal formulas. In this institutional distortion, the authentic Jesus—the divine mystic teaching inner transformation—has been buried under layers of theological elaboration and institutional corruption.

4. The Paraclete Promise: Jesus's Unfulfilled Prophecies

A careful reading of Jesus's teachings in the Gospel of John reveals a remarkable pattern: Jesus repeatedly promises that his work will be completed by another figure, whom he identifies as the Paraclete or Holy Spirit. These promises are not peripheral to Jesus's teaching; they are central to understanding his mission and the future of his followers.

In John 14:12, Jesus declares: Very truly, I tell you, the one who believes in me will also do the works that I do and, in fact, will do greater works than these, because I am going to the Father. [4] This promise is extraordinary: Jesus's followers will do not merely the same works as Jesus but greater works. This is not possible if Jesus's work is complete in his earthly ministry. Rather, this promise points toward a future age when his followers will accomplish spiritual works of unprecedented scope and power.

In John 16:12-13, Jesus makes an even more explicit promise: I still have many things to say to you, but you cannot bear them now. When the Spirit of truth comes, he will guide you into all the truth; for he will not speak on his own, but will speak whatever he hears, and he will declare to you the things that are to come. [5] This teaching reveals that Jesus's mission is incomplete. He has teachings that his followers cannot yet bear. These teachings will be given by the Spirit of truth in a future age. The implication is clear: the completion of Jesus's teaching and mission requires the coming of another figure, the Paraclete, who will speak the things Jesus could not yet say.

Most significantly, in John 7:37-39, Jesus makes a time-specific promise about the Holy Spirit: If anyone thirsts, let him come to me and drink. He who believes in me, as the Scripture has said, from his innermost being will flow rivers of living water. But this he spoke of the Spirit, whom those who believed in him were to receive; for the Spirit was not yet given, because Jesus was not yet glorified. [6] This passage is crucial: Jesus explicitly states that the Holy Spirit was not yet given during his earthly ministry. The Spirit would be given only after Jesus was glorified. This promise points toward a future age—an age that, according to the interpretation examined in this paper, is now.

The theological significance of these promises cannot be overstated. Jesus himself taught that his work would be completed by another figure, the Paraclete or Holy Spirit. Jesus himself taught that he had teachings his followers could not yet bear, teachings that would be given by the Spirit of truth. Jesus himself taught that the Holy Spirit would not be given until after his glorification. These are not marginal teachings; they are central to understanding Jesus's own understanding of his mission and its future completion.

5. Seven Teachings of Jesus: Pathways to Spiritual Transformation

To understand how Jesus emerges more powerfully in contemporary times, we must examine seven key teachings that reveal the radical, transformative nature of his original message. These teachings, drawn from the canonical Gospels and apocryphal texts, demonstrate that Jesus was fundamentally concerned with inner spiritual transformation rather than doctrinal correctness or institutional authority.

Teaching	Source	Core Message	Contemporary Relevance
For if you walk on this road, it is impossible to go astray	John 14:6	Jesus is the Way, the Truth, and the Life; the path is clear and certain	Spiritual seekers need guidance and assurance that the path to inner transformation is real and accessible
Because I live, you also will live	John 14:19	The promise of eternal life through resurrection and spiritual rebirth	Addresses the contemporary hunger for meaning beyond material existence and the fear of death
I have cast fire upon the world	Gospel of Thomas, Saying 10	The ignition of transformative spiritual energy that will spread throughout humanity	Speaks to the contemporary experience of spiritual awakening and the urgency of transformation
If you bring forth what is within you, what you bring forth will save you	Gospel of Thomas, Saying 70	Actualization of inner divine potential leads to salvation and wholeness	Aligns with contemporary psychology and the emphasis on self-realization and authenticity
But this he spoke of the Spirit: The Spirit was not yet given	John 7:39	The Holy Spirit will be given in a future age after Jesus's glorification	Points to the present age as the fulfillment of Jesus's promise of the indwelling Spirit
I still have many things to say to you, but you cannot bear them now	John 16:12	Jesus's teaching is incomplete; the Spirit will complete it in the future	Suggests that contemporary spiritual teachings may represent the completion of Jesus's unfinished work
If anyone thirsts, let him come to me and drink	John 7:37	The promise of spiritual fulfillment through direct inner experience of the divine	Addresses the contemporary spiritual thirst and the promise of direct mystical experience

Each of these seven teachings points toward a consistent theme: Jesus's central concern was with inner spiritual transformation, direct experience of the divine, and the actualization of divine potential within every human being. None of these teachings emphasize doctrinal correctness, institutional authority, or belief in supernatural claims. Rather, they all point toward transformation, awakening, and the realization of the Kingdom of God within.

The first teaching, For if you walk on this road, it is impossible to go astray, [2] emphasizes that the spiritual path Jesus taught is clear, certain, and accessible. The road is not symbolic; it is real, radiant, and eternal. For contemporary seekers lost in the confusion of competing spiritual claims and institutional corruption, this teaching offers the promise that a genuine spiritual path exists and can be followed with confidence.

The second teaching, Because I live, you also will live, [7] promises eternal life not as a future reward but as a present reality accessible through spiritual rebirth. This teaching addresses the contemporary hunger for meaning and the fear of death that drives many seekers toward spiritual traditions. It offers the promise that death is not the end but a gateway to divine truth.

The third teaching, I have cast fire upon the world, [8] speaks of transformative spiritual energy that Jesus ignited and that continues to spread throughout humanity. This fire is not destruction but transformation. It is the flame of Self-realization that awakens consciousness and transforms human existence. For contemporary seekers experiencing spiritual awakening, this teaching validates their experience as part of a cosmic process initiated by Jesus himself.

The fourth teaching, If you bring forth what is within you, what you bring forth will save you, [3] emphasizes the actualization of inner divine potential. This teaching aligns remarkably with contemporary psychology and the emphasis on self-realization and authenticity. It suggests that salvation is not external redemption but the integration and expression of one's true divine nature.

The fifth teaching, But this he spoke of the Spirit: The Spirit was not yet given, [6] makes explicit that the Holy Spirit was not given during Jesus's earthly ministry but would be given in a future age. This teaching is crucial for understanding the interpretation examined in this paper: the present age may represent the fulfillment of Jesus's promise of the indwelling Spirit.

The sixth teaching, I still have many things to say to you, but you cannot bear them now, [5] reveals that Jesus's teaching is incomplete. He had teachings his followers could not yet bear. These teachings would be given by the Spirit of truth in the future. This teaching suggests that contemporary spiritual teachings and revelations may represent the completion of Jesus's unfinished work.

The seventh teaching, If anyone thirsts, let him come to me and drink, [9] promises spiritual fulfillment through direct inner experience of the divine. The living water that flows from within represents the awakening of the Holy Spirit, the Mother Kundalini, the eternal light of truth. This teaching addresses the contemporary spiritual thirst and the promise of direct mystical experience accessible to all who seek it.

6. The Sahasrara Opening: The Age of the Indwelling Spirit

According to the interpretation examined in this paper, the fulfillment of Jesus's promises about the Holy Spirit is inseparable from a specific historical event: the opening of the Sahasrara Chakra on May 5, 1970. [10] This event, understood in the tradition of Kundalini awakening and Sahaja Yoga, represents the inauguration of the "Age to Come" when the Holy Spirit could be given to all of humanity.

The Sahasrara Chakra, in the yogic understanding of the subtle energy system, is the highest energy center in the human body, located at the crown of the head. It represents the seat of divine consciousness, the thousand-petaled lotus where individual consciousness merges with universal consciousness. The opening of the Sahasrara is understood as a cosmic event that makes possible the awakening of the Kundalini—the dormant spiritual energy coiled at the base of the spine—in millions of human beings.

According to this interpretation, Shri Mataji Nirmala Devi, through her work and spiritual power, opened the Sahasrara Chakra and made possible the mass awakening of the Kundalini. [10] This awakening is understood as the fulfillment of Jesus's promise that the Holy Spirit would be given to all believers. The Kundalini, when awakened, is experienced as the Mother Kundalini, the Holy Spirit, the divine feminine principle that gives birth to spiritual consciousness within every human being.

This interpretation is supported by the testimony of contemporary spiritual practitioners who report direct experiences of Kundalini awakening and the flowing of rivers of living water from their innermost being. [9] These experiences are not merely subjective or psychological; they are understood as the literal fulfillment of Jesus's promise in John 7:37-39. The promise that from his innermost being will flow rivers of living water is understood as a description of the experience of Kundalini awakening, when the divine energy flows through the subtle energy channels and awakens consciousness at every level.

The significance of the Sahasrara opening cannot be overstated. It represents the transition from an age when the Holy Spirit was not yet given (the age of Jesus's earthly ministry and the subsequent two thousand years of institutional Christianity) to an age when the Holy Spirit can be given to all of humanity. This transition fulfills Jesus's own prophecy about the future age when his work would be completed and his promises would be fulfilled.

In this interpretation, the opening of the Sahasrara represents Jesus's glorification. Jesus taught that the Holy Spirit would not be given until after he was glorified. In the mystical understanding, Jesus's glorification is not a past event but an ongoing process. Jesus is glorified through the completion of his work by the Paraclete, through the awakening of millions of human beings to the Kingdom of God within, through the transformation of human consciousness itself. The Sahasrara opening represents the cosmic event through which this glorification is accomplished.

7. Contemporary Relevance: Jesus in the Twenty-First Century

How does this interpretation make Jesus more powerful, more pure, and more intensely relevant to contemporary times? The answer lies in understanding how this interpretation addresses the deepest spiritual crises and hungers of the present age.

First, this interpretation recovers Jesus as a divine mystic rather than a founder of institutional religion. In an age of declining institutional Christianity and rising spiritual seeking, this recovery of Jesus as a mystic makes him profoundly relevant to contemporary seekers who are increasingly turning away from institutional religion while remaining drawn to Jesus as a figure of spiritual authenticity and power. Jesus emerges not as the property of institutional Christianity but as a universal spiritual teacher whose message transcends any particular religious institution.

Second, this interpretation emphasizes direct inner experience rather than doctrinal belief. In an age of intellectual skepticism and scientific materialism, the emphasis on direct inner experience makes Jesus's teaching profoundly relevant. Contemporary seekers are not primarily interested in believing correct doctrines about Jesus; they are interested in direct experience of the divine, in spiritual transformation, in the awakening of consciousness. This interpretation offers Jesus's teaching as a pathway to such direct experience.

Third, this interpretation addresses the contemporary spiritual thirst and the promise of direct mystical experience accessible to all. In an age of widespread spiritual seeking and the proliferation of alternative spiritual traditions, this interpretation positions Jesus's teaching as addressing the deepest spiritual hunger of contemporary humanity. The promise that the Holy Spirit can be given to all believers, that the Kingdom of God is within every human being, that spiritual transformation is possible for all—these promises are profoundly relevant to contemporary seekers.

Fourth, this interpretation explains why institutional Christianity has lost its moral authority and why Jesus himself remains compelling. Institutional Christianity has become corrupted by politics, wealth, and power. It has obscured Jesus's authentic teaching about inner transformation and the Kingdom within. But Jesus himself, when recovered in his authentic mystical form, remains profoundly compelling because his teaching addresses the deepest spiritual needs of human beings. Jesus emerges more powerfully precisely because institutional corruption is stripped away and his authentic teaching is recovered.

Fifth, this interpretation provides a framework for understanding contemporary spiritual experiences and movements. The widespread experience of spiritual awakening, the proliferation of meditation and yoga practices, the hunger for direct mystical experience—all of these contemporary phenomena can be understood as the fulfillment of Jesus's promise that the Holy Spirit would be given to all believers. Rather than viewing contemporary spirituality as a departure from Jesus's teaching, this interpretation understands it as the fulfillment of Jesus's own promises.

Finally, this interpretation offers hope and meaning in an age of crisis and despair. In an age of climate catastrophe, political polarization, and existential uncertainty, this interpretation offers the promise that humanity is undergoing a cosmic spiritual transformation. The crisis of institutional Christianity is not a sign of the death of spirituality but a sign of the birth of a new age—the age of the indwelling Spirit, the age when the Kingdom of God within every human being can be awakened and realized. Jesus emerges in this age not as a figure of the past but as a living presence guiding humanity through its greatest transformation.

8. Conclusion: The Glorification of Jesus Through Completion

This paper has examined a profound theological interpretation: that Jesus emerges more powerfully, more purely, and more intensely relevant to contemporary times through the completion of his unfulfilled promises by the Paraclete. This interpretation rests on several key insights.

First, Jesus's authentic teaching, when recovered from institutional corruption, reveals him as a divine mystic concerned with inner spiritual transformation rather than doctrinal correctness or institutional authority. The Kingdom of God within, the actualization of inner divine potential, the direct experience of the divine—these are the central themes of Jesus's teaching when examined carefully across the canonical Gospels and apocryphal texts.

Second, Jesus himself taught that his work would be completed by another figure, the Paraclete or Holy Spirit. Jesus explicitly promised that the Holy Spirit would not be given until after his glorification, that he had teachings his followers could not yet bear that would be given by the Spirit of truth, that his followers would do greater works than he did. These promises point toward a future age when Jesus's work would be completed and his teaching would be fulfilled.

Third, the opening of the Sahasrara Chakra on May 5, 1970, represents the fulfillment of Jesus's promise that the Holy Spirit would be given to all believers. This event inaugurated the "Age to Come" when the Kundalini—the Holy Spirit, the Mother—could be awakened in millions of human beings, making possible the direct inner experience of the Kingdom of God within.

Fourth, this interpretation makes Jesus profoundly relevant to contemporary seekers who are increasingly turning away from institutional religion while remaining drawn to Jesus as a figure of spiritual authenticity and power. By recovering Jesus as a divine mystic and emphasizing direct inner experience rather than doctrinal belief, this interpretation addresses the deepest spiritual hungers and crises of the contemporary age.

Finally, Jesus emerges most powerfully when understood not as the property of institutional Christianity but as a universal spiritual teacher whose message transcends any particular religious institution and addresses the deepest spiritual needs of all human beings. In this understanding, Jesus is glorified not through the building of churches and the elaboration of doctrine but through the awakening of human consciousness itself, through the transformation of millions of human beings into beings of divine consciousness.

The crisis of contemporary Christianity is not a sign of the death of Jesus's teaching but a sign of its transformation. Institutional Christianity, corrupted by politics and power, is passing away. But Jesus himself, recovered in his authentic mystical form, emerges more powerfully than ever before. He emerges as a guide to inner transformation, as a teacher of the Kingdom of God within, as a promise of the Holy Spirit that can be given to all believers. In this emergence, Jesus becomes not a figure of the past but a living presence guiding humanity through its greatest spiritual transformation. This is how Jesus emerges more powerfully and more purely and more intensely relevant to our times.

---

Related Articles

For if you walk on this road, it is impossible to go astray.
Because I live you also will live.
I have cast fire upon this world, and see, I am guarding it
If you bring forth what is within you, what you bring forth ...
If anyone thirst let him come to Me and drink
I still have many things to say but you cannot bear them
But this He spoke of the Spirit: The Spirit was not yet given

Paraclete Papers

PART ONE: An Investigative Report on Christianity's Greatest Cover-Up
PART TWO: The Paraclete's Human Personality and the Theological Fallacy of Pentecost
PART THREE: The Greatest Deception in Human History: Pentecost as Satan's Trojan Horse
PART FOUR: Unveiling the Church Born from the Prince's Millennia of Deception
PART FIVE: Apokalypsis: Paraclete's Fulfillment of Jesus' Eschatological promise from Last Supper in Age to Come
PART SIX: The Paraclete and Pentecost: A Critical Analysis of Johannine Eschatology
PART SEVEN: The Mother Kundalini as the Holy Spirit