Church covered in Palo Alto Weekly
Publication Date: Wednesday, August 25, 2004
Free spirit
http://www.paloaltoonline.com/weekly/morgue/2004/2004_08_25.church25ja.shtml
Inside the ‘Ecclesia Gnostica Mysteriorum,’ one of the few Gnostic churches in the country
by Bill D’Agostino
The run-down, two-story building next to Albertsons on Palo Alto’s Alma Street seems unremarkable at first glance. An abandoned first-floor storefront displays the corny cartoon of an enthusiastic man selling donuts.
Inside, the smell of incense is the first clue that something is unusual. On the second floor is the Ecclesia Gnostica Mysteriorum , one of the few Gnostic churches in the country.
A small reception area is decorated with sardonic political cartoons, finely embroidered sayings, colorfully painted landscapes and, tacked to the wall, a notice about a local animal cemetery.
The intricately decorated sanctuary, where Sunday services are held, is to the right. It has low ceilings, soft lighting, two stained-glass windows and crystal lamps. Flowers, candles and chalices adorn the altar.
Like much of the church, the weekly service — known as The Gnostic Mystery of the Eucharist — is a bit of a paradox. On one hand, it’s as ritualistic as any Catholic mass. On the other, there is no dogma for the congregants, no hard-and-fast rules that need to be followed.
“There is no obligation to anything,” said Rosamonde Miller, the garrulous 62-year-old bishop who founded the church in the same location in 1978. “Freedom has to begin with freedom.”
Instead, Miller uses her sanctuary, and the stories and rituals in its services, to eschew habitual beliefs. She aims to bring her congregants beyond ordinary reality to a higher understanding of the world and themselves. She is, in the literal sense, a free spirit.
A few dozen Bay Area locals attend Miller’s sanctuary every Sunday, hoping to free their own spirits during the unorthodox service. Pets roam the pews, while obscure deities are invoked as mirrors for consciousness.
Citing recent neurological research, Miller argues that the human brain is “hard wired for the mythical experience.” With her talks and ritual, she hopes to spark that part of her congregants’ brains, much the same way a Buddhist monk uses meditation.
Also like Buddhism, this brand of Gnosticism is more an approach to life than a Western-style religion that worships a God and follows rules. Actually, the closest cousin may be Jungian psychotherapy, which uses images and icons to help define a collective unconscious.
The Bible is not the word of God here, only a useful parable. The same is true for the Gnostic gospels, ancient and heretical Christian texts many of which were rediscovered in a jar in Egypt in 1945.
Dogma and scripture can get in the way of finding other things in the world sacred, Miller believes. It is not just the holy objects and texts of traditional religions — like a Catholic’s Eucharist — that is deemed worthy of praise by Miller.
“That bread and that wine — as well as a tree, a car and a cockroach — all of that exists in the divinity,” she said.
Additionally, there are no sins for Gnostics, only tragedies caused by ignorance and blindness. The cure is gnosis, Greek for knowledge, and tolerance, Miller said.
Still, Bishop Miller’s descriptions of her tenets and teachings can be cryptic, and especially esoteric for Western ears unaccustomed to paradoxes.
“It is something that you really know so deeply inside,” she said of Gnosticism. “But it’s not a strong belief, either.”
For church regulars, the Gnostic rituals and beliefs (or non-beliefs) become a way to find grace.
Some found the sanctuary through the teachings of Carl Jung, who helped translate some of the early Gnostic texts. Others found it through friends.
“It’s a good place to center one’s being,” said Thom Bryant, a 52-year-old real estate manager who has attended Miller’s services since the beginning. Bryant was raised Protestant. He first came to the church because he was friends with Miller.
“I’m always surprised, and that’s what keeps me attending,” he said. “Over the years, exposure to Gnostic ideas, Gnostic tenets have become pretty powerful.
“For me there’s something very ancient about the Gnostic ritual. It’s not something intellectual; it’s something I feel. The ritual connects other aspects of myself and sort of centers me. Many people meditate or practice Zen — the Gnostic ritual does the same thing for me.”
It’s nothing special, he insisted. “It just happens to be one that clicks for me.”
The Sunday mass begins at 10:30 a.m. It starts with a homily.
Quotes and stories come from a mish-mash of sources, with Miller using whatever words most appropriately impart the lesson of the week. Religious texts cited run the gamut from the Koran to traditional Christian gospels, although Gnostic readings make up the bulk of the mass. Miller is just as likely to tell the story of Don Quixote as Sophia, a powerful Gnostic feminine figure.
None of the stories are to be taken literally.
“It doesn’t matter if a person believes in a god,” Miller said. “It doesn’t matter if a person believes in Jesus. It’s an archetype of our own existence.
“I just love how that was written, that God was human,” she continued, speaking of the New Testament. “There was no separation. … There is divinity in flesh. For me that holds true of all sentient beings, not just humans.”
Sunday, Aug. 15 was the Celebration of the Feast of the Holy Sophia. Around 50 people attended, more than usual.
“We are born with the capacity to be fully ourselves,” Miller said that morning, encouraging congregants to awaken spiritually. “We don’t realize it, but we’re knee-deep in divinity.”
A maroon chuppah — an open canopy used in Jewish weddings to symbolize that a newlyweds’ home is open to the community — hangs above the altar. It designates the “bridal chamber,” the place where the “hero,” a person’s consciousness, can rouse his or her soul, or the person’s “damsel in distress,” Miller said.
The second half of the service is more ritualistic, with singing, drumming, bells and repetitious chanting. Candles are lit. Incense is burned. With a dried flower, Miller sprinkles holy water on those present after she proceeds to the front of the sanctuary.
The central figure of the ritual is Sophia. Images of her adorn the church walls. Some are colorful and celebratory, with Sophia appearing as an attractive young woman. Others are dark and brooding, with Sophia seeming old and frail.
In Gnostic literature, this powerful and complex figure is the feminine aspect of God. Her story reverses assumptions inherent in the original Christian creation story.
Sophia birthed a demigod who believed he was the creator of the human world. He was arrogant and envious. “I am the only God,” he pronounced. “No other exists before me.”
The demigod created minions, known as archons, to come to earth and confuse people. Among other things, the archons kept Adam and Eve away from the Tree of Knowledge, and blinded Sophia.
To free Sophia and restore her sight, the highest God then sends a redeemer, Logos.
Sunday’s ceremony culminates with the congregants coming up, one-by-one, to kneel before the altar and eat pieces of bread dipped in a chalice filled with wine. Unlike in a Catholic mass, the Eucharist does not represent Jesus Christ’s body and blood.
Instead, it’s the time and the mechanism for the believers to spiritual awakening. They are asked to recognize themselves in Sophia’s story.
“You are the body and you are the blood,” Miller said.
Deborah Estell recently recalled her first visit to the church in 1987, as she vacationed in the area from Kansas City.
“When I went into the church there was a silence and a peace,” Estell recalled. “The silence was loud, but the peace was very calming. At that time in my life, it was a really wonderful experience.”
When she moved to the San Francisco Bay Area a few years later, she began regularly attending the services. Estell grew up in a Baptist church, where the music is joyful. The music in the Gnostic sanctuary more closely resembles Gregorian Chanting, with repetitive phrases and quiet humming.
“It was a stark contrast between the two worlds,” said Estell, who teaches elementary education and school psychology at San Francisco State University. “It was empowering in a very unusual way. That just kind of grabbed me.”
Like a small handful of the regulars, Estell has decided to enter the priesthood. Becoming ordained in Gnosticism is not like going to school and getting a degree, she said. It’s taking Miller’s ideas and bringing them to the world at large — teaching love and tolerance, grace and divinity.
“It’s living every day and doing the work through my living,” she said.
The Sunday service is where that work begins.
“Being at the center,” she said, “helps me keep my feet on the ground, and at the same time aware of the clouds, the depths of the stars in the sky.”
Staff Writer Bill D’Agostino can be e-mailed at bdagostino@paweekly.com.
