At first the cosmogonical idea was one, everywhere. But as nations began fragmenting along tribal grooves, the original idea became gradually veiled with the overgrowth of human fancy. While in some countries the intelligent Powers of Nature received divine honours they were hardly entitled to, in others, the very thought of any such Power being endowed with intelligence seems absurd, and is proclaimed unscientific. Homer is silent with respect to the First Principle which, according to Proclus, is the Unity of Unities, more ineffable than all silence, more occult than all Essence. The Jews ascended no higher than the immediate artificer of the universe; for they degraded their metaphorical deity, as have the Christians, by accepting Jehovah as their one living yet personal God. The Jews invented the Tetragrammaton to celebrate life, to deify multiplication, and to mislead the profane. The Theosophist’s Deity is not the two-faced Tetragrammaton but the Crown, which has nought to do with the material world. The First Cause (Monad) is symbolised by a Point within the Circle of Heaven, or an Equilateral Triangle, from whence the First Cause has radiated is passed over in silence. That Point is the First Logos, not as yet the Architect of the world to be, but the unknown and unknowable cause of the Architect himself. Parabrahman cannot be seen as it is. It can only be seen by Logos but with a veil thrown over it: that veil is Mulaprakriti, the mighty expanse of cosmic matter. Mulaprakriti is the noumenon of matter, and is material to Logos, as any physical object is material to us. The Hidden Deity is represented by the circumference of a circle, the centre of which is everywhere and the circumference nowhere. Ain-Soph, the Kabbalistic Parabrahman, is inscrutable, unknowable, and unnameable — a Circle bound by the utmost stretch of our perception to the vault of a sphere. Deity is eternal perpetual motion, ever-becoming, universally-present, ever-existing. The Boundless Circle is its outward veil. Logos, represented by the central mathematical point, is only an organ in cosmic creation, through which radiate the energy and wisdom of Parabrahman. Logos is as unknown to us as Parabrahman is unknown in reality to Logos itself. In all those personations of Nature’s Female Powers, there are two distinct aspects: the noumenal and the phenomenal. The one is purely metaphysical, the other terrestrial and physical, and at the same time divine from the standpoint of human conception. The Powers of Nature all the symbols and personifications of Chaos, or the Primordial Waters of Space, the impenetrable veil between Absoluteness and the Logos of Creation. The feminine Logoi are all correlations, in their noumenal aspect, of Light, Sound, and Æther. There are four personations of Vach-Voice, vehicles of divine thought, corresponding with the higher Cosmic Principles. Vach is the female Logos, the loving mother of all that lives, milking forth sustenance and water. The most precious archaic records are utterly unknown to the Orientalists, and the dead-letter sense translations of popular Sanskrit works are merely blinds to the uninitiated. Hence the Orientalists refusing to be puzzled, they cut the Gordian knot of their perplexity by declaring the whole cosmogonical scheme figments of Brahmanical fancy and love of exaggeration. Prominent in every Cosmogony are the pre-cosmic Lords of Being, the Prajapatis or “Seven Builders,” symbolised by concentric circles. Osiris is the unknown “black God” because the realm of his noumenon is darkness to the mortal. He is the Egyptian Zagreus. Osiris is Avalokiteshvara, the Universal saviour and All-merciful Master, who moves the Waters of Space, fructifies and infuses the Breath of life into that germ that becomes the Golden Mundane Egg, and in which the male Brahmā is created. And thus, the first Prajapati, Lord of Beings, emerges and becomes the progenitor of mankind. Like Brahmā, Zeus and all other lower deities, Jehovah is an androgyne god. But he is neither the God worshipped by Moses, nor the Father of Jesus, nor yet the Ineffable Name of the Kabbalists. He is merely a composite name for membrum virile and Eve, a hermaphrodite. He is, in one sense, Noah (Hebrew Yah) or, literally translated, inch — the British inch! For those who love Truth for her own sake, and try to do good unselfishly without perpetually looking to reward and profit, the Cosmogony of Confucius is the most succinct and perhaps the most suggestive of all Cosmogonies. For those who are familiar with Occult Numerals, the Confucian figures indicate the progressive yet harmonious evolution of Kosmos and its beings, and the culmination of every perfection in heaven and on earth. The archaic map of Cosmogony is full of lines in the Confucian style, of concentric circles and dots. All these represent the most abstract and highest cosmogenic visions. Confucius, a contemporary of Pythagoras, was the Easter sage of the ancient world. He taught the sphericity of the Earth and the Heliocentric system; while, at about thrice years later, the infallible Popes threatened and even burnt “heretics” for asserting the same. The great Architect of the Universe gives the first impulse to the rotatory motion of our planetary system by stepping seriatim over each planet, causing each to turn around itself, and all around the Sun. Then after the Solar and Lunar Pitris take charge of their respective planets and earth to the end of the Kalpa. The Rishis are the mind-born sons of Brahmā, not priests. At the end of the first stage of evolution they are transformed into the seven stellar Rishis, the Saptarshis, while their human doubles appear as heroes, kings, and sages on this earth. There are many Rishis in the Vedas. It must however be understood that in every Creation the Vedas are revealed to the same men only. The opening sentence in every Cosmogony is either a Circle, an Egg, or a Head, often surrounded by Darkness — hence, black doves, black ravens, black tongues, black waters. They all relate to the birth of Universe and Man out of the latent germ in the Eternal Egg dwelling in Darkness. The Raven, yielding the same numerical value as the Head, is the symbol of the purely spiritual, sexless and androgyne man of the first three Root-Races, who vanished from earth forever. Eastern Esotericism asserts that only physical man was created in the image of deity; but that deity is but a minor god. The real God is the Imperishable Higher Ego or Nous, man’s true Individuality that cloths itself in a new personality at every new birth. Yet the Jews degraded the only ennobling religion of humanity to the most unspiritual and gross phallic religion.

In Clothing as Devotion in Contemporary Hinduism, Urmila Mohan explores the materiality and visuality of cloth and clothing as devotional media in contemporary Hinduism. Drawing upon ethnographic research into the global missionizing group “International Society for Krishna Consciousness” (ISKCON), she studies translocal spaces of worship, service, education, and daily life in the group’s headquarters in Mayapur and other parts of India. Focusing on the actions and values of deity dressmaking, devotee clothing and paraphernalia, Mohan shows how activities, such as embroidery and chanting, can be understood as techniques of spirituality, reverence, allegiance—and she proposes the new term “efficacious intimacy” to help understand these complex processes. The monograph brings theoretical advances in Anglo-European material culture and material religion studies into a conversation with South Asian anthropology, sociology, art history, and religion. Ultimately, it demonstrates how embodied interactions as well as representations shape ISKCON’s practitioners as devout subjects, while connecting them with the divine and the wider community.

A compassionate, shame-free guide for your darkest days “A one-of-a-kind book . . . to read for yourself or give to a struggling friend or loved one without the fear that depression and suicidal thoughts will be minimized, medicalized or over-spiritualized.”—Kay Warren, cofounder of Saddleback Church What happens when loving Jesus doesn’t cure you of depression, anxiety, or suicidal thoughts? You might be crushed by shame over your mental illness, only to be told by well-meaning Christians to “choose joy” and “pray more.” So you beg God to take away the pain, but nothing eases the ache inside. As darkness lingers and color drains from your world, you’re left wondering if God has abandoned you. You just want a way out. But there’s hope. In I Love Jesus, But I Want to Die, Sarah J. Robinson offers a healthy, practical, and shame-free guide for Christians struggling with mental illness. With unflinching honesty, Sarah shares her story of battling depression and fighting to stay alive despite toxic theology that made her afraid to seek help outside the church. Pairing her own story with scriptural insights, mental health research, and simple practices, Sarah helps you reconnect with the God who is present in our deepest anguish and discover that you are worth everything it takes to get better. Beautifully written and full of hard-won wisdom, I Love Jesus, But I Want to Die offers a path toward a rich, hope-filled life in Christ, even when healing doesn’t look like what you expect.

According to a longstanding interpretation, book religions are agents of textuality and logocentrism. This volume inverts the traditional perspective: its focus is on the strong dependency between scripture and aesthetics, holy books and material artworks, sacred texts and ritual performances. The contributions, written by a group of international specialists in Western, Byzantine, Islamic and Jewish Art, are committed to a comparative and transcultural approach. The authors reflect upon the different strategies of »clothing« sacred texts with precious materials and elaborate forms. They show how the pretypographic cultures of the Middle Ages used book ornaments as media for building a close relation between the divine words and their human audience. By exploring how art shapes the religious practice of books, and how the religious use of books shapes the evolution of artistic practices this book contributes to a new understanding of the deep nexus between sacred scripture and art.

Who and what are marriage and sex for? Whose practices and which ways of talking to god can count as religion? Lucinda Ramberg considers these questions based upon two years of ethnographic research on an ongoing South Indian practice of dedication in which girls, and sometimes boys, are married to a goddess. Called devadasis, or jogatis, those dedicated become female and male women who conduct the rites of the goddess outside the walls of her main temple and transact in sex outside the bounds of conjugal matrimony. Marriage to the goddess, as well as the rites that the dedication ceremony authorizes jogatis to perform, have long been seen as illegitimate and criminalized. Kinship with the goddess is productive for the families who dedicate their children, Ramberg argues, and yet it cannot conform to modern conceptions of gender, family, or religion. This nonconformity, she suggests, speaks to the limitations of modern categories, as well as to the possibilities of relations—between and among humans and deities—that exceed such categories.

The final book of the Bible, Revelation prophesies the ultimate judgement of mankind in a series of allegorical visions, grisly images and numerological predictions. According to these, empires will fall, the "Beast" will be destroyed and Christ will rule a new Jerusalem. With an introduction by Will Self.

With reference to India.