It's Christmas Eve, very early in the morning. As the Christian world prepares for this celebration of Hope and Love, the appearance of a new light in the world, I find myself once again contemplating what this question means.
As I have pointed out before, it's difficult for anyone who is serious about the Gurdjieff work to separate it from Gurdjieff's contention that this work truly is, so far as we are able to understand it, "esoteric Christianity."
I am called once again to remember what Frank Sinclair told us in his fine book, "Without Benefit of Clergy." He recalled the moment one Christmas when Gurdjieff himself advised those around him to call on Christ for help.
Mr. Gurdjieff understood something real here, something that is almost impossible for those of us who live in the modern western world of the 20th and 21st centuries to understand.
He understood that the forces that wish to help men are real and living forces, and that the individuals who live on levels higher than us are real individuals, not metaphors, or folk figures, or figments of a religious imagination.
This is a chasm we are unable to step across in any intellectual way. Mr. Gurdjieff offered us the refined material of "Beelzebub's Tales to his Grandson" in order to try and find a way to let something penetrate deeper into us, something on the order of a key that could unlock some of the understanding our intellect is so lacking in. Of course, our intellect deconstructs even the best of material until its value is corrupted.
Nonetheless, we soldier on.
Today I am called on -- in an inner sense -- to remember that something higher has a wish for all of us. I have an individual responsibility to remember this. If I don't work -- if I don't make an effort to strip myself naked emotionally and say yes, to be willing to receive something that can help -- the entire state of the planet suffers. I know that probably sounds grandiose, but it isn't personal. The planet suffers with each and everyone of our lacks, both individually and collectively.
When am I humble enough to ask for help? When do I begin to understand the act of prayer in something more than a mechanical way?
When do I acknowledge that my search for Christ must become a living thing, rather than an idea?
This only happens when part of me steps aside. Every part of me that thinks it is me, every part that grasps, and plots, and plans, and analyzes, must becomes silent and make room for other forces.
may our hearts be opened, and our prayers be heard.