Wednesday, May 1, 2013

Eso’s Chronicles 163
The Forgotten Christians of Tibet (7-2)
© Eso A.B.

I know of course that Christianity is supposed to have originated with the birth of Jesus in Bethlehem. For a long time, I, too, held to that belief, but the paradox of Christianity: that it acted more like a secular religion than a spiritual religion took its toll. It made no sense why religion should be so empty of ideas and will to resist the rampage of capitalism. I began to investigate the sources of Christian beginnings.

First of all, were historical sources of Christianity itself, and those who disputed these sources. In due course, I realized that the story of Christianity that is being propagated in our day and for some centuries in the past, may be a false Flag story, perhaps even a False Flag.

The first solid touchstone for the story of Jesus as a False Flag was my discovery of an alternate version for the story of King Oedipus by the Greek writer Sophocles. Rather than go along with tradition and Freud and see the play as a story of mother and son incest, I discovered—through my long time curiosity about the whyfores of ancient human sacrifice—that the story could even better be interpreted as a story of betrayal of religion and community.

The second step, the discovery of the real story about Jesus, came quickly soon thereafter. Having read Anna Comnena’s “The Alexiad” and coming across the story of the Bishop Polycarp of Smyrna in Bart Ehrman’s fabulous book “Lost Christianities”, I realized that the story of Polycarp is a twin to the story of Basil the Bogomil in “The Alexiad”. True, the available stories tell us that Polycarp merely imitated Jesus; however, it is just as believable that Jesus’s name was replaced by that of Polycarp . The meaning of the name ‘rich in fruit’ is consistent with that of praise for a king, Basil, or, for that matter, Jesus. Besides, the name ‘karpos’, fruit, has an easy pareidolic association with ‘carp’, a fish. In days past, carp was the main ingredient in a dish of the poor, re gefilte fish .

Once I got that far into the labyrinth, I began to suspect that the assignation of religion to a specific originator was a story not likely to be true either.

The evidence for this came from my ethnic inheritance, the Latvian language. It happens that in Latvian the most needed teaching for the solidarity of a community is passed from parents, especially the mother, to children by way of the Latvian language itself. This is not by do or don’t directives, but by word inflections imbedded in the language, the inflection that makes a word an endearment. The Latvian language is capable of endearing every word that touches object and subject, including verb. Therefore, if a child is taught to use endearments, a Latvian was/is able to endear (no doubt, with irony) even his-her enemy. Unfortunately, due to the close interlink, neither the pedagogic or political systems are interested to pass this inheritance along.

For this linguistic phenomenon to occur and maintain its potential (though ignored) to our day, not only must a language be extremely old and untouched by a superego dictating laws from above, it likely enjoyed many centuries of freedom and experienced itself as being a worthwhile and practical tool of social intercourse.

Such discoveries as above, also led me to see the name of ‘John’, which has many cognates (and the link gives only an inept sketch of the extensive use the name has been put to), in a new light. The name obviously reaches thousands of years into the past. One of the common links between the many cognates is that they denote travel, moving, roads, guardianship (jandarme), animal herding, kingship (Gengis), and sacred office. Of the latter, I especially note that the name of Mohammed, also lends itself to the pronunciation of Yohammed or Johan(m), i.e., John. It led me to see that the cognates were not limited to the consonant j or g as the first letter of a name, but that numerous consonants, such as b, d, g, h, j, p, v, w, and all the vowels were put to use as well.

One of the tools that I use to make my discoveries is pareidolia. A widely and deliberately overlooked method in scholarly circles, pareidolia is a device used by ‘the poet within’ every one of us. While our conscious self may pay no attention to parallel meanings or sounds, ‘the poet within’ may pick up on it without much effort or guilt. This often happens through words in a song, especially rhymes, either at the end of lines or imbedded in the text.

One word that could long ago have been put to better and more accurate use is ‘pagan’, but because of rigid academism never was. The word is far more telling when pronounced ‘pa-yan’, because then we clearly see that the prefix ‘pa-’ is meant as a put-down to the name of ‘Yan’. A full explanation will take more space than I have here, but  the pronunciation ‘pagan’ is trying to eliminate the association of ‘pa-yan’ with an archaic form of Christianity better pronounced as ‘cross-yan’ (X-yan), The prefix ‘pa’ erases the ‘X’ by reducing it to ‘pa’. X is of course nothing but a mark for a cross road , which is a place to gather and confer.

An entirely different story may be accessed through the name of ‘uriankkai’ , a forest dwelling people closely associated with the Evenks (see below). The Uriankha may have contributed to such modern names as Juri (a cognate of George), and by way of Korean to ‘orangutan’ (yorang…).

Having reached this level of familiarity and confidence, I began to look for patterns that might indicate the use of language as a tool to pass along communal values. Another language (aside from Latvian) that I read had the ability was the above mentioned Evenks (also known as Tungus) , a herding people, who once used to follow reindeer herds with the seasons. I noted that if ‘evenk’ were to derive from the verb ‘to herd’, the verb of Jahnis (John) in Latvian would have been ‘to yanc’, which may have led to the verb ‘to dance’, originally meaning to milling around. When looking for information about the Evenk language, found little of the kind of information I was looking for. Academics appear mainly interested in grammar, not what a language aside from subject and object communicates or that it transforms itself with the help of pareidolia.

This is a long way about to come to the Tibetan people of whose efforts to resist their cultural elimination by the Chinese government through self-immolation is in current news. This Wikipedia link mentions that Christianity has been noted in Tibet in the early 5th and 6th centuries. Along with my theory that communal-moral-religious values were passed on through language, I suggest that indeed Tibetan Christianity preceded Western Christianity. If Bön, said to be a shamanistic Tibetan religion, may also be pronounced as Yon, then we have a link not through any specific historical name, but a transmission of religious values by their imbedment in sound  and languages.

Incidentally, Islam and early Christianity have the same roots, rather than the divisive separation created by secularist extremists on either extreme.


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