When I was a student I was required to do a field study in a very small village. My assignment was to interview and document the impressions and memories of the townspeople who were young adults in the 1930s. The interesting thing about the village was that most of the houses had been carved into the mountain on which it is built. More than half of each house is actually a cave.
It was winter, and it was dark. I remember retreating to my bedroom in the cave, and, not having any windows, I slept and slept and slept, until one of my hosts woke me up laughing. She gently explained that sleeping in a cave somehow resets our internal clocks sometimes. The lack of light makes us forget.
In order to complete my research, I knew that I had to be disciplined about getting up in the morning, especially because this was an agricultural town and the people were early risers. It took some work, but I managed to get my watch to sound-off. I left the door open so that some light would flicker in. These were little tricks that helped me not to be lost in the luxurious darkness of that cave.
If the lack of light made me forget myself, I can only imagine what we do to ourselves when we forget who we really are, and what we are all capable of doing. Rising from the darkness into the light is certainly a shopworn metaphor, but if it works, run with it. That is exactly the theme that Gnostics commemorate on August 15, which is known as the Feast of the Assumption of the Holy Sophia. This day is arguably one of the most important focal points for contemplation in the entire calendar.
The reason that the Assumption is so important is because it is a powerful allegory of the development of both the individual and humanity as a whole. The upward movement of our aspirations and understandings, the evolution of our material and spiritual lives; all of this is contained in the very ancient, archetypal principle of the assumption of the divine feminine.
The Gnostic myth of Sophia is a prequel to the Genesis story which is more familiar to popular culture and religion. This prequel utterly shifts the focus of the allegory because the “fall” of humanity is actually a step forward. Eden symbolizes the ignorant, childlike (also animal-like) immaturity of humans. The serpent is a sign of both good and evil, slithering its way up the Tree of Life and the Tree of the Knowledge of Good and Evil. There are interesting comparisons to be made between this myth and the Kabalistic Tree of Life, but that would be something of a tangent.
According to these myths, long before Eden, Sophia, turns away from the One, and begins a series of events which lead to the creation of the material universe, including her son, the demiurge, and all of us. In short, she struggles with her own creations, the powers or rulers (archons) of the new material cosmos, but she manages to endow the human race with her spirit.
There are several ancient versions of this story which differ in some aspects, but this is the simple storyline. The descent of Sophia into matter is an explanation by ancient people of the existence of ignorance, the urge to go forward in the darkness, indeed a thought process which we see driving the deepest human needs and desires. What could be more human than the urge to explore the unknown, to learn, to move beyond perceived boundaries, while all along being shrouded in ignorance and doubt?
Conversely, the assumption of Sophia also begins in darkness and ignorance, but it rises slowly, just as we do, to new stages of our lives, better understandings of ourselves and our responsibility toward others. Sophia begins her long journey upwards without knowledge of who is guiding her. Upon reaching a certain level, she is suddenly aware that the Logos (the “Word” or “reason”) has been with her all along. In short, the assumption is a noun of action. It calls us to rise above the worries and vanities of living a purely material life.
The path towards our fulfillment as human beings is irrevocably tied to our willingness to walk forward, not only under our own power, but in concert with others. Let’s face it; I couldn’t have done my research without that first wake-up call. We need each other, and sooner or later you will find that no one rises without the help of others. If the mythical Sophia didn’t realize that she was being helped until she got above the clouds, how well do you think we’re seeing in the dark?
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