No one knows where the woman came from, she
just appears one day in the small Swiss town. It's springtime and she is
dressed in a light, attractive frock reaching to just above her knees. As she
passes the vegetarian restaurant on the corner the people eating lunch in the
garden stare at her, then go to out to greet her, hesitantly at first, then in
a rush: students carrying notebooks, old people wearing black berets, even the
waitresses and the cook with a frying pan in his hand. She smiles warmly at
them, then turns left up the hill towards the temple. They follow her. The few
people who live in the house halfway between the restaurant and the temple join
the throng, as do those who are in its small art gallery. The word spreads
quickly and people run from all the houses on and near the hill to follow her.
The strange thing is that they all, without being told or having seen her
before, recognize her.
����������� She
pauses in front of the temple for a moment, shakes her head sadly, and
continues up into the woods beyond it. When she reaches a clearing sufficiently
large to accommodate the crowd she stops, takes off her knapsack and places it
on the ground, shakes out her long black hair and smiles at the people. She
motions for them to sit and they do so, forming a circle around her that
extends almost to the temple. She begins to speak in a beautifully modulated
voice. They listen hungrily, for this is real spiritual knowledge.
����������� She
returns to the same place the next day and the crowd of listeners has grown
enormously. On the third day the Chairman of the Society, who has been informed
of her presence, comes to the scene accompanied by some other functionaries of
the Society and a policeman. They push their way through to the front using
elbows, knees and authority. After listening to her for a while the Chairman
knits his gray, beetling brows and his eyes flash. Suddenly he shouts for her
to be silent. The listeners do not protest, for they are used to bowing to
authority. The Chairman tells the policeman to seize her, charged with
trespassing, but to bring her to his office in the temple where he will look
into the matter.
He
makes her wait for an hour in his ante-chamber before summoning her to enter
his organically-shaped, purple-trimmed office with its elongated
floor-to-ceiling windows. He sits at his large, liver-shaped desk and motions
for her to sit across from him.
����������� "Who
are you?" he asks angrily, but she doesn't reply.
����������� �Are you him?"
����������� She
looks out the window at the gray granite of the Jura hills.
����������� "That's
right, be silent. I don't want to know who you are. But if you are Him, I must
inform you that your arrival here at this particular point in time is
inappropriate, unwanted, even dangerous. You see, the work of the Society is
centered in the Board of Directors here in the temple. It's the centralized organization
which you yourself called into existence during the Foundation Meeting way back in 1923."
����������� She
raises her eyebrows slightly, a movement he does not fail to notice.
����������� "Oh,
I suppose you would say that you didn't intend it that way, that you had quite
a different organization in mind". He laughs, his mouth twisting into a
cynical smile.
����������� "Did
you seriously think that something so confusing, chaotic and anarchical could
possibly work? My dear man - I mean woman - How could you be so naive? We knew
it wouldn't work and we took care to keep the members ignorant of your
foolishness. As you probably know, all the members of the Society were
incorporated into the General Society in 1925 and they weren't even aware of
it. Are these the sheep you expected to act in freedom? Don't make me laugh!
Just think: you formulated the statutes of the Society, which you called the
most modern society in the world, then you said they weren't statutes at all,
but a reality. Who can make heads or tails of such a mess? We solved the
problem though - after you died of course, so you couldn't confuse the matter
further - by calling those original statutes "principles" and absorbing
everything and everyone into the General Society, a legally constituted unprofitable - er..I mean not-for-profit corporation
with power vested in the Board and proper statutes that anyone can
understand."
����
������ The woman continues gazing
out the window. He smiles crookedly and goes on.
����������� "In
case you're wondering why I say 'we' when I wasn't even born then, I ask you to
remember that apostolic succession - well, succession at least - is an esoteric
tradition that we have maintained since you passed over the threshold - despite
the fact that you forgot to name your successor."
����������� She
turns her head toward him and seems about to say something, but remains silent.
����������� "You
were probably upset about all the expulsions back in the thirties," the
Chairman goes on. "After all, they were your friends and collaborators. It
was unfortunate but necessary, although I might have handled it differently.
Those friends of yours who were expelled refused to recognize the Chairman's
authority. And even you must realize how dangerous that was. Independent
societies springing up all over the place, no clarity, no central authority.
Oh, it was done smoothly enough. My predecessors called it 'self-expulsion',
a stroke of genius. Just between you and me, I think the Soviets got the idea
from us. All the General Assembly had to do was sanction their requests -
admittedly unspoken - for self-expulsion. Now please tell me how that could
have been done under your wishy-washy statutes, which don't even contain a
provision for expulsion? You should thank us for picking up the pieces and
gluing them back together. If we hadn't, nothing would be left of your work.
Don't you realize that?" He becomes red in the face. "Don't you?
Answer me!" he shouts and slams his fist on the desk, causing the portrait
of the temple's founder hanging on the wall to fall to the floor behind him.
She doesn't answer him. Gradually he calms down, rises, picks up the portrait
and places it back on the wall. The solid wood organically-carved frame had
saved it from breaking. "It's not the first time this has happened. This
thing is indestructible," the Chairman mumbles.
����������� Once
seated again he says, "Then there was the unpleasant incident with your
wife. We couldn't convince the Swiss judges that your literary estate belongs
to us, to the Society, and not to an individual, last will or no last will. We
lost that round - two rounds actually - and now they've published almost
everything you ever wrote or said, most of it as confusing as ever. We would
have been more selective, retaining the more powerful stuff for ourselves. But
a lot has changed: we even sell your books at the temple book-shop now.
Imagine!
����������� Speaking
of powerful stuff - the Esoteric lectures. For a long time we managed to
protect them, just as you wished. Now even they have been published by your
so-called literary estate. But this time it's been done with our blessing. And
why not? Why fight a losing battle? They would have published them anyway. It's
a feather plucked from our cap all right, but we still control the School,
including membership and expulsion. It's much easier to expel someone from the
School than from the Society, as you know. No fuss. And that gives us a lot of
leverage. Membership in the School has increased enormously, by the way, thanks
to us. That doesn't mean they're all initiates - ha, ha. We launched very
successful membership drives and soon almost all Society members will also be
members of the School. If you want to be in the "in-group", it's the
thing to do, believe me."
����������� She
frowns.
����������� "Ah,
a reaction at last. I suppose you're worried about the esoteric development of
all those people. Forget it. All that stuff you said and wrote about initiation
doesn't work. I know, I tried it.
����������� "We
have our critics of course. Some time ago an old guy - probably one of your
friends - called the School Readers the "curia". Thought he was being
smart; I'd call him fresh.
����������� "There
has even been criticism of the fact that I travel first-class on airplanes and
stay at five-star hotels. It just shows how niggardly they are, or maybe it's
only jealousy. People don't realize that we must arrive refreshed after a long
journey, sleep in a comfortable bed and have all the necessary conveniences at
our fingertips: telephone, TV, FAX, e-mail, swimming pool, masseur, hair
dresser -- in order to faithfully carry your message to the antipodes. Whoever
heard of an executive of an organization of over 50,000 traveling economy class
and living in hovels?"
����������� "Although
membership in the Esoteric School has increased," the Chairman continues,
"we don't seem to be able to break through a certain barrier as far as
membership in the Society is concerned. In 1924 you expected to have 50,000
members in a few years. Well, many years have passed and that figure has been
reached, but no more. Thousands, perhaps hundreds of thousands, take advantage
of your ideas for their own selfish purposes, but don't join the Society. I
must confess that it puzzles me. This rejection..." He passes his hand
over his face and wipes the sweat from his brow with a violet handkerchief.
"It takes a lot of money to run this organization, as you well know. So
the more members we have who pay their dues, the better.
����������� �But
all that's only anecdotal. As you can see, everything is under control and we
don't want you around stirring things up and confusing the members. No one is
ready yet for your path of knowledge, for your higher worlds and your freedom.
We're still working on what you said before without having to digest new
revelations. People don't really want freedom if they have to work at it
themselves and you never offered to hand it to them on a silver platter. They
don't even understand it - at least I don't, and who is in a better position to
do so? I know by heart almost every word you ever said. In fact, I'm very fond
of quoting you, as we all are, and the effect is grand. You should feel
flattered."
����������� He
lights a cigarette and offers her one. She shakes her head.
����
"They say you used snuff then - so human." His crooked, ironic
smile appears again, then vanishes.
����������� "You
see, we give them the illusion of freedom and spiritual experience through
membership in the Esoteric School and the Class Readings. Why, it's better than
going to church. We know what's good for them better than you ever did. The
illusion makes them happy and it gives them a sense of belonging."
����������� She
is looking at him fixedly now and he lowers his eyes. "I wish I knew what
you are thinking. No, I don't care what you are thinking, if anything. You gave
up on the Social Threefolding thing yourself. You fold it once, you fold it twice..." But there it is in your Complete
Works, so we can't ignore it altogether. Every once in a while someone gives a
lecture about it, and young people who read about it for the first time often
get enthusiastic. But we make sure that they don't go too far and offend some
politician, industrialist or group of powerful members. The whole idea of a
Tripartite Society is downright dangerous - for our Society and for the world.
It implies that people are intelligent, courageous and willing to be free,
which is, as I already explained, an erroneous assumption. Furthermore, what
would happen to our donations if we went shooting off our mouths against
political cowardice, injustice, capitalism, materialism, economic power? We
talk a lot about what you said 75 years ago, which doesn't hurt anyone's
feelings now because it's so historical."
����������� The
Chairman extinguishes his cigarette in a kidney-shaped, oak ashtray, and
coughs.
����������� "And
we can always counter criticism by warming up the conspiracy theory, which you
so kindly bequeathed to us. You remember, don't you? The map dividing
Europe?� Whenever something goes wrong
we blame the Anglo-American secret societies." He smiles and looks almost
happy. "It always works. Nobody's ever seen one of the secret societies,
but they swallow it anyway. It's a good thing they do, for otherwise this
freedom thing you were always talking about could get out of hand. It even went
so far that the editors of the Society's weekly publication, which you
inaugurated yourself, recently began raving about freedom of the press after
insulting our best-paying members. Don't you see how dangerous that is? We
kicked them out of course, and there was quite a scandal about it. 'Templegate'
some wise-guy journalist called it. But it will blow over, these things always
do. You should be grateful to us, but I see that you are not. That is further
evidence that we know what's best for the movement and you don't. We're in the
Twenty-first century, for God's sake. Cyberspace and all that. But no, you
probably never even heard of it."
����������� They
sit in silence for a few moments like a couple who have been married for too
long and have grown bored with each other.
����������� "I
have some ideas though," the Chairman finally says, and lights another
cigarette. "I'd like to hear your opinion about them." He blows a
smoke-ring over her head, which settles for a moment like a halo. It startles
the Chairman, but as soon as it disappears he forgets it. "I'm thinking of
declaring myself - I mean the Chairman, whoever he is - I'm thinking of
declaring the Chairman infallible, but only where thinking, feeling or willing
are concerned, of course." He smiles. The woman sighs and looks out the
window again.
����������� "I
think that would have an excellent effect on Society discipline. But do you
know what we really need? Something that would put the icing on the cake? No?
Well, I'll tell you: an immaculate conception. Problem is that our female
Section Leaders are kind of old for that." He taps the desk with his long
fingernails and muses: "Perhaps an eurythmist." Suddenly his eyes
light up as they do when a brainstorm strikes. "Or maybe even..." The
light goes out. "No, no, you wouldn't be interested. Well, we'll see.
Miracles do happen, you know."
����������� The
conversation is becoming too one-sided, even for the Chairman, who is used to
one-sided discussions, so he comes to the point.
����������� "Now,
to demonstrate my magnanimity, I am going to make you an offer."
����
She smiles for the first time.
����������� "I
don't know what that Mona Lisa smile is supposed to mean and I don't care. I'm
an esoteric administrator, not a psychiatrist. Here's my offer. Take it or
leave it: In return for your cooperation we will appoint you Class Reader in...
Where is it you come from now? Austria again? or is it South America? They say
you were raving about the poor in Brazil or Africa or someplace.
����������� He
waits, thinking she might say something to that after all, it being so
outrageous. She remains silent.
����������� "You
can be an Official Class Reader, but only on the condition that nothing is
added to what you said before and is already in print. You read, you don't
comment. Get it?"
����������� "Well,
what do you say?"
����������� She
shakes her head sadly.
����������� "That's
what I thought. It's just as well."
����������� He
picks up his violet telephone and asks his secretary to connect him with the
Fremdenpolizei. His interlocutor is on the line almost immediately.
����������� "There's
a foreigner here stirring up trouble. He..er..no, She was arrested but I wanted
to be merciful and help her. Unfortunately, I must admit that I was mistaken!
She's a trouble-maker and probably in the country illegally... No, I don't know
where she's from, probably somewhere in the Fourth World.....No, no, that was
only a joke, don't worry. What's important is that she expresses undemocratic,
un-Swiss ideas and is working without a permit. ...Yes, I will attest to it.
Please come immediately and expel her - if you must, and I assume you must -
from the country...Where to? How should I know? As far away as possible, to
Jupiter for all I care. But quickly, before the Summer Conference begins and
we're swamped by naive people who would be dangerously susceptible to her
charms."
����������� He
hangs up and looks at the woman almost, but not quite, kindly. "Believe
me, it's best this way. I know what I'm doing. Your message is too important to
be endangered by inflammatory preaching. We can protect the movement and the
Society - which are One now, in case you've forgotten - and you can't. If we
allowed you to go through with what you intend, whatever it may be, the whole
thing would collapse and we'd have to start over again."
����������� He
stands up. "You can wait in the antechamber. The Fremdenpolizei will be
there in a moment." He looks at his watch. "In fact they are probably
there already. The Swiss are incredibly efficient when it come to expelling
foreigners. I wish you a good trip, to wherever they send you."
����������� She
stands, looks at him for the last time and turns to go.
����������� "Wait,"
the Chairman says. "Tell me, Why did you not name a successor?"
����������� "You
have said it," she answers, and walks through the hand-carved, arched,
doorway into the antechamber where the Immigration Police are waiting. One
holds handcuffs, the other a one-way ticket to Jupiter.
