Aphorisms of Courage Will Love Covenant – Holy Ground of Living Waters


perfect fit:

“A person should hear a little music, read a little poetry, and see a fine picture every day in order that worldly cares may not obliterate the sense of the beautiful which God has implanted in the human soul.” Goethe.

“The arc of the moral universe is long, but it bends towards justice.” Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr.

“God sees the truth but waits. God waits on us to open our eyes and ears to justice and charity. Let us be part of God’s justice whose property it is always to have mercy and to spare.” Dorothy Day

“Only people who are capable of loving strongly can also suffer great sorrow, but this same necessity of loving serves to counteract their grief and heals them.” Tolstoy

“I AM CRYING NOW BUT MY FRIEND SHALL RETURN AND MY TEARS SHALL FADE AWAY”

Believe “be strong brave” Rosa Robato as she was hung after blowing up one of the crematorium at Auschwitz that took the lives of many of her family.  The axis of evil tried all of their sadistic schemes to break her will, finally giving in to crush her life with savage cruelty.

Children are main targets of war.  Their lives are sacrificed everywhere every time without thought or conviction to preserve innocence.

We resolve to have a steady hand consistent considerate calm  enduring

El pueblo el grito de Lares y San Sebastian del Pepino en Boricua el espiritu del campesino es mas fuerte que todas las armas de este pais.

“I AM CRYING NOW BUT MY FRIEND SHALL RETURN AND MY TEARS SHALL FADE AWAY”

We will rise, we will rise we will come out  dancing singing celebrating in all of our finery our colors blazing beauty grace will over coming all adversity…

Yes, there is no excuse for your trembling frailty fear  defeat there is nothing that stands against this wisdom replete with sustenance of spirits thriving rhythm beating out chords of flowing spiritual sustenance.

Like a reed I will bend, I will sway back and forth I will rise above the cacophony of replete visions of mass bombardments of shearing winds that light upon the waters beating out a rhythm, a harmony of spiritual sustenance.

celebrate joy in our hearts timpani  chorale passion fruits of creative juggernauts of light  rain fire dancing jetties pouring down drenching us renewing energy of fulfilled dreams sparked by resolve will reverberating in hearts on fire.

500th Published Article of People’s Advocacy Council Opportunities to Publish People’s Words Spirit Songs Lives


Come, come whoever you are sing dance create prose refine your thoughts submit your  work freely

 

All are welcomed encouraged for your thoughts, feelings, stories, ballads, letters, complaints, aphorisms

This is a chance to share, to raise a toast a voice a place for everyone to hold as a sacred trust which is what we are here for to learn listen come to terms with our own lives and values as a community

This blog is a community trust a place for commentary wisdom resounding visions of hope despair tomorrow today  always

Come come wherever you are breathing be still empty fill these pages with your ardor your spirit your refrains

♥ ♥ ♥ “THIS IS A TEST TO SEE HOW MANY GOOD FRIENDS YOU HAVE.. YOU MUST SEND IT TO AT LEAST 10 PEOPLE, INCLUDING THE PERSON WHO SENT IT TO YOU *Hug* *Hug* *Hug* *Hug* *Hug* *Hug* *Hug* *Hug* *Hug* *Hug* *Hug* *Hug* *Hug* *Hug* *Hug* *Hug* *Hug* *Hug* *Hug* *Hug* *Hug* *Hug* *Hug* *Hug* *Hug* *Hug* *Hug* *Hug* *Hug* *Hug* *Hug* *Hug* *Hug* *Hug* *Hug* *Hug* *Hug* *Hug* *Hug* *Hug* *Hug* *Hug* *Hug* *Hug* *..“.” ♥ ♥ ♥

Nature’s Bounty in North Colonies of Magnificent Beauty


we have to be careful during rutting season for the world can come crashing down if we are not observant paying attention to everything around us using all of our senses to be aware ready alert for hidden treasures and grand design of the universe.  Everything is in a great heap of minute landscapes from the inner workings of the forces of nature to far-reaching colliding dark energy pulled in majestic circles of a great dance.  Dancers of galaxies colliding central black holes dispersing dark matter and energy everywhere.

Rolling on Currents Above Below Beyond Our Imagination


On trough of frothing waves comes tidal bores sweeping everything out to sea or crashing on eddies of shell strewn beaches tender reefs basted with sediment from roiling brine spill over everything that lies in its wake

 

dream on roll on to distant shores filling rock crevices small shells pools with everlasting life

Autuminal Equinox: Frosty Nights May All Have a Place of Refuge


 

 

 

As the cold descends  a world separates those who live on the Porifera limits of byways, towns, places of comfort, solace rest inside in warm beds. Remember those who have no safe place.  We need a fail safe haven for all children, families, pets, friends, neighbors, citizens throughout all lands.  Let us cry out a gospel that there is a place for you here to rest restoring your life health for you all.Here  at last there is a place for all beings to rekindle their heart song.

 

As the Autumn winds shear the leaves from forests littering foraging insects fungi devours all matter returning precious nutrients to capillary roots beneath tree trunks brush along pathways, let us create a haven for all to thrive.

 

 

 

Crisp clear nights give rise to morning mists heaves of hoary frost goaded by cleansing clearing renewing silent springs deep within bowels of fragrant composting vegetation beneath our feet

Waiting for Vulture to Devour the Carcass of a Baby


 

A Vulture Waiting to Devour the Carcass of a Child:  Why and who indeed are the innocent and who is able to throw the first stone?  Who is without blood on their hands?

“Out, out damn spot.”  Is it possible that we have always condemned a certain element of our civilization as slaves, servants, vermin, lost, throw away carrion?  For the dung pile, the scavengers to pick clean?

Man on a bench on a snowy evening at the State Capitol of Colorado. This person is twenty yards from a safe haven.   How many scenes like this are duplicated everywhere in the Western Hemisphere?  There is no where for people of all ages to turn when the environment is adverse or balmy.  This scene has been repeated over and over again throughout the time in which we have been here.  This person is within 100 yards of a church that used to house more than 100 people every night.  How many passersby noticed this person and did not take the time to wonder whether she was alive or dead?  How many times do we see someone who has their pet as their only companion and they are huddled together in the cold or wet, or whatever condition throughout the history of this nation.  It has been said by people on high that this is a national disgrace. It is natural that the government and the public settles into solving because it is annoying and a nuisance to most citizens.  There are some that state that these people are here by their choice. That these people are not our concern.  They do not pay taxes.  they’re a burden. They hold out that most of the world is getting by self-sufficient capable of taking care of their lives.  Natural order senses that we survive because we are capable and fit.  Those who succumb have no merit and they will not be missed.

Who are these people?  What do they look like?  Where do they all come from?  What is their purpose?  They have always been this way?  They are not helpless.  They can get a job.  They are drunk. They have behavioral health problems.  They are a drain on the social happiness and prosperity of our world.  They will die.  They will leave.  They have to go somewhere.  They will not be missed. They will be buried in a pauper’s grave at the expense of the county.  There is no one to pay their bills. We should put them in a debtor’s prison and have them be forced to earn their keep.  This is not Charles Dickens 19th century London, or a mine in the hills, or a orphange like where my grandfather was raised.  This is not a time of pernicious public policy that corrupted people coming from ships to conscript them into the army for slaughter in the Civil War.  This is not your beautiful beneficent community.  Who ever you are what do you have to do with all of the issues that are facing this country and this land?  What do you have to do with the kind of misery that has grown by leaps and bounds in this era?  Where is your beautiful wife, mother, daughter, niece, or your favorite aunt?  Where are all of your loved ones?  Are they safe and sound?  Tonight where are you sleeping?  Are you sleeping underground?  Are you on a park bench without a place to go to regardless of the weather and the circumstances?

 

Who will remember?  What will we do to kindle candles this Shabbat and this New Year and in these days of beauty and pristine sunrises and sunsets?  When the moon is c lose at hand will there be a place of rest for the people who have now where to rest?  Will they be spurned essentially because they do not belong?

 

 

 

 What is the distinction betweent this picture and the first image of a person sleeping on a becnh in the light of the State Capitol of Colorado? 

 

How  many succumb to the elements and then are heard no more?  We ask the people to count every year. We ask the people to be counted and then ask why we cannot exit more people who do not have a safe haven as evidence that we are lowering the numbers.  What do we have to do to eliminate the gnawing absence in people’s lives that make these images possible for us to gawk and walk on by as though this has no relationship to anyone else?

A Ticking Time Bomb Defused


 

 ”Shirrh,”  Hands holding heart cupped in one’s loving embrace, kindness  living with loving kindness these summarize a life’s work of teachings of Confucius.

Who are we if we cannot protect the innocent?  What are we to become if we settle on being callous about what we are doing with the least of us?  What is the responsibility of a person who is called to lead who does not pay any attention to a neglected child?

What are we called to do?  Let no one come between us for this is hallowed ground.  When one says that they cannot or will not help is there any reason for this utter rejection of another being? If one says that I will not represent the half of the nation that does not or will not care for themselves we are talking about children.  Is there no one who has responsibility for their plight?  Everyday we are brand new beginners treading water in a roiling swell.  We all need comfort and we are all significant. No one is omitted, neglected, left out, forgotten, abandoned, no one can be forgotten.  We are always transformed by the other no matter what happens,  we are all effected by the least experience.  There is an impact that spirals on and open for as long as we are alive and leaves a water mark, an imprint on everything.  We have always been touched by angels and demons alike. We are always being transformed by the world that we touch and we are transforming the world by just the breath that we take.  This is our story. It is the thesis that overrides all experiences,  we are both profane and sacred.

We are always here altogether in swelling seas, emerging, bobbing up and down, in tough stormy  choppy waters with foaming heights that roll on and on over the endless reefs

None are forgotten, left out, submerged without making an impact on the level of the  emerging waters, on the temperatures and movement of the undercurrents.  If we disperse, disappear, are replaced brand new we emerge on the other side of reality with a place marker.  Information can neither be destroyed or created.  Life is ever spawning envisioned renewed complete reverberating in the creation of life in the love and suffering of creating breaking free, emerging from out of the depths, from the crashing comets that scorched air, wind smashing along the shore, rekindling life eternal.

Renew life, rekindle hope, step up, go beyond what there has been reseeding earth wind and fire with your comfort your embrace your delight

Not this day alone, but all of our days, that they may bring sustenance and rekindle our sense of delight sharing whatever we have with everyone who languishes is despised forgetting that we are separate, forgetting that we are alone, forgetting that we are here in this world at a loss to understand why we were born.

Foraging for Mushrooms – Survival in a Primeaval World


The primeaval search for the supporting structure of all life is in the ground and is the largest single organism on earth, making all life possible and from which the origins of all life emerged.  Fungus is prevalent in many essential tracks of our lives and even in the care and maintenance of our body.  Bacteria thrive everywhere and make all things possible.  Without these essential spores there would never have been beings walking around.  Clearly our perspective of life is limited by lack of awareness of the specific gifts of this phylum and genus which has branched off from plants. When we stalk the wild edible mushroom we forage for beings that have a life cycle apart from both plants and aninmals.

Editor’s comment

A Bountiful Harvest

 

“The rewards of a Mushroom Foray are not always defined by the amount of choice edible mushrooms that are found.  The experience of the foray in itself often brings joy and a strong sense of connecting with nature.  One of my most memorable forays took place on a cool late summer morning just north of Tucson, Arizona. 

 

At the time I lived in the small town of Summer haven on top of Mount Lemmon.  All during the week, I had been collecting chanterelle and Hedgehog mushrooms with my daughters.  These mushrooms fruit in early September on Mt.Lemmon and typically mark the end of the mushroom fruiting season here.

 

On this morning, I was commuting to my office in downtown Tucson on my Motorcycle.  Although it was already light out, the sun had not yet climbed above the Rincon Mountains to the east so it was still a peak time for deer activity.  Because of the risk of deer, my commute was a bit slower than usual and I constantly scanned the woods alongside of the road.  As I was doing so, I noticed an area that looks like a good habitat for ‘shrooms’, 

 

I pull over onto a small dirt patch just off the road and as I lock up my motorcycle, I remove a paper bag from my briefcase.  Now to you folks who foray for fruiting fungi, that last sentence makes perfect sense.  Just about everyone else will not understand why a briefcase would contain a supply of paper bags.

 

There is no path here, instead I wander uphill into the forest while absorbing the morning sights and sounds.  It is still early enough that the birds are vocalizing their territorial claims.  A lone raven passes overhead and shouts at my intrusion.  I return its call in brotherhood.  I don’t know why I do this, I just do.  Okay, maybe its true, mycophiles are just a bit…ummmm, …different.  I pass a grove of tiny plants with even smaller pink flowers.  I have to kneel down to see them clearly.  The tiny plants have beautiful oval leaves with detailed minute veins and the flowers are intricate as well. Cool!  I get up and walk slowly, constantly scanning the ground.

 

The area looks perfect for Boletes.  It is a rolling hillside with large flat zones and several small drainage streams that run through it.  There are lots of Ponderosa Pines and Douglas Fir trees.   I make a mental note to come back here next August to look for Boletes, then continue to look for areas with Aspen trees in the hope of finding a few late chanterelle mushrooms.

 

After a while I come to the crest of a hill which is covered with huge boulders.  I look up and weigh the return-to-effort ratio as I contemplate a scramble to the top.  The climb will add about another 20 minutes to this mini-foray, but I do not have any morning appointments, so I decide to make the climb. Carefully choosing a not-too-difficult route I eventually emerge above the tops at the top of the rock wall.  A view of east Tucson opens before and the rock face just in front of my shoes drops almost straight down for a hundred feet or more.  I am on top of the world.

 

A light wind blows across my face and with views unbroken in every direction I feel like I have taken flight. I lift my arms as if they are wings and have a remarkable sensation that I am flying with the entire world attached to my feet.

 

Far, far below, a few hundred thousand people are beginning their day.  Not one of them can see me on this boulder, a man flying alone carrying the world.  A flash of light over the Rincon Mountains commands my attention.  It is the sun and I have carried the earth to meet it.  Warm beams of brilliant gold light play across my face and body.  This light of life is still invisible to the city dwellers below and it will take another 15 minutes or so for it to make its way into the valley. 

 

I linger for a moment savoring the feelings of flight and of warmth, then slowly hike back to my motorcycle.  All the while, I continue to scan the ground for mushrooms.  I do not find a single fruiting body.. 

 

I arrive back at my motorcycle and return the paper bag to its place in my briefcase.  Firing up the bike I pull onto the twisty mountain road to continue my ride down into the city.   A smile graces my face with the realization of having gathered a bountiful harvest without finding a thing.”

 

Playing with Thor

 

“With most mythology, I often wonder how the concept of the myth was established.  But every now and then, life experience reveals such secrets.  I was on a mushroom foray in the Rocky Mountains on a late afternoon in early August when mythology collided with reality.  I was collecting King Boletes (Boletus edulis) in one of my favorite areas. 

 

In the Rocky Mountain States, you can find this mushroom in any environment with pine trees and sufficient moisture, but my favorite hunting grounds are in mixed pine forests that include Ponderosa Pine, Douglas Fir and Spruce.  This is especially true of wooded glades with rolling hills and flat spots and where water run-off is shallow and wide.  The best fruiting will in the flat areas under Spruce although it will also fruit on hillsides within a drainage.

 

When hunting for Boletes, I use the Fly Agaric (Amanita muscaria) as an indicator species because its bright red color is easy to spot at a distance, and it grows under the identical conditions as the King boletes.  On this foray, I had already filled my basket with King Boletes and a few choice Agaricus mushrooms when I noticed that the steep hillside where I had ended my search appeared to flatten out again about 60 ft higher up. It was then that I first heard the distant rumblings of thunder and I paused for a moment to weigh my choices. 

 

Mountain thunderstorms tend to roll in quickly and can be quite violent.  I looked at the sky and could see that the clouds were moving in quickly and were dark grey and heavy-looking.   Since I had collected a decent amount of mushrooms and my truck was about 1/2 mile away, the smart thing to do would be to return to my truck now before the storm arrived and I placed myself at risk of a lightning strike. 

 

On the other side of the equation was a promising looking unexplored area nearby to a favorite foray zone.   Unfortunately, I am known for not making smart decisions, and in this case I decided to trudge up the hill to check out the flat area above.  My pace was fast, spurred by the ominous rumbling from the sky.

 

Upon reaching the flat, I could see it was a great looking environment.   I immediately spotted large numbers of Fly Agaricus, which have to be the  most commonly depicted mushrooms.  What a neat mushroom!  In addition to being a great indicator for Boletes, and as its common name suggests, this mushroom makes an excellent poison to rid a household of flies.  When I lived in my mountain cabin, I used to make a wet paste of crushed dried Amanita muscaria and milk and place this mix in jar caps on my window ledges.  It worked well to eliminate summertime bugs inside the cabin.

 

With their bright red tops and white spots, there is something very special about the look of these mushrooms and I stopped to examine a couple of particularly beautiful specimens.  It is no wonder to me that there is a long record of people who consider this fruiting body to be a ‘Magic Mushroom’.  An Amanita in its prime just looks spectacular and I swear, the mushroom has an aura about it.  Looking at these mushrooms, I lingered to contemplate its association with man over the ages. 

 

To early Northern Europeans, this was indeed a magic mushroom.  Amanita Muscaria is a hallucinogen.  It is eliminated from the body through the kidneys and the urine from someone who has ingested the mushroom is equally a hallucinogen.  In addition, Northern European Reindeer are extremely attracted to the smell of urine passed after eating the mushroom and ancient ceremonies were developed to carry and pass the ‘power’ of this mushroom from summer forays to winter hunting.  I remembered reading in some journal how Shamans shared their urine well into the winter when food was scarce.  Then they would pee in a field where the Reindeer were attracted to the smell. Voila, dinner!  It’s easy to understand how the myths about this mushroom could…

 

KA POW!

 

The simultaneous flash and thunder-clap of lightning jerked me from my day-dreaming of shamanistic rights.  That was close!  Rain started to fall and I realized that I had lingered too long.  Making my way downhill to my truck another bolt of lightning struck very close uphill from me.  I quicken my pace….

 

KA POW!

 

…and another bolt of lightning struck a tree about 50 ft. in front of me.  The tree exploded with bits of bark blowing out in all direction.  Yikes!  I suddenly had a moment of enlightenment that all my contemplation of tripping Norsemen had somehow brought me to the attention of the Norse God Thor.  Thor was doing a little target practice and I was the target!

 

KA POW!  KA POW!

 

Yikes, Yikes, Yikes!  Thor’s aim is good!  This is much too close!  I am now running full speed for my truck spilling mushrooms as I run.  With great relief I see my truck ahead and I am soon safely inside of it. 

 

I sit in my truck and listen to the storm pass overhead and then onward down the valley.  The glass in the truck fogs from my heavy breathing.  Looking at my basket, I see that I have lost almost half of my mushrooms.  I chuckle to myself thinking that perhaps Thor is a ‘shroomer’ and the ‘offerings’ strewn from my basket while running allowed me to escape with my skin.

 

To this day, whenever I am playing outdoors or foray in the mountains, I keep a nervous ear for the sound of distant rumbling.  This was neither the first, nor last close lightning strike that I have experienced.  While the logical aspects of my brain understands that a storm is incapable of emotion and devoid of mythological guidance, a more primal thought emerges with every distant rumble.  Having narrowly escaped from Thor on more than one occasion, I’m convinced the dude is looking for a re-match.”

 

 

The Nose Knows

Simple Identification of Agaricus Mushrooms

 

“It has been many years now that I have been scanning the ground for edible mushrooms, and it has come to the point that it is no longer a conscious effort.  It does not matter that I might be engaged in a business meeting inspecting a property, or perhaps on a sporting motorcycle ride; I see mushrooms everywhere.  I have to admit that I am very visually oriented and rely upon my eyes for the majority of information that I gather.  But over time, I have also learned that the sense of smell and other senses are also important in mushroom identification.  In this article I will discuss how I use my sense of smell as an important “tool” in the identification of edible Agaricus mushrooms.

 

I am a big fan of edible Agaricus mushrooms, I really enjoy their ‘meaty’ flavor.  It is an easy mushroom to identify to Genus, but it can be very daunting to identify to species.  Since there are a number of toxic Agaricus mushroom species, and because I tend to be VERY cautious about eating any mushroom that I cannot identify without question, for many years I avoided collecting Agaricus mushrooms for my dinner plate.  It was a member of the Colorado Mycological Society, Ellen Jacobson, who introduced me to a remarkably simple tool to identify edible Agaricus mushrooms.  Even then, it took me a couple of years to learn to trust that tool.  But I am at the point that when it comes to separating an edible Agaricus from a toxic Agaricus, I use my nose.

 

Everybody learns things in a personal manner and often that trait is linked to one of the senses. For me, my sense of sight is dominant to my learning.  I learn best by seeing something.  Because of that, it was initially difficult for me to ‘switch gears’ and classify Agaricus mushrooms by smell.

 

First, it is vitally important that you learn to identify an Agaricus mushroom to Genus, and for that I use my vision.  This is in harmony with the most basic identification concept of mycology which separates genus by differentiating macroscopic fruiting body characteristics.  In this case, I use my eyes to verify that the mushroom:

 

$          Is of generally large stature

$          Has dense gills that are not attached to the stem and are colored pinkish to light tan when young and change color in age to a deep  chocolate-brown

$          Has membrane covering the gills when young that forms a ring on the stem after the mushrooms gets larger

$          there is NOT a vulva sac at the base of the stem

 

Once I establish that a given fruiting body is an Agaricus mushroom in prime age and condition, I then turn over identification to my nose.  Since I collect Agaricus mushrooms for my dinner plate, my goal here is to identify an edible Agaricus from a toxic Agaricus, and not to identify the mushroom to species. 

 

At this point, I must express some warnings.  It is always best to be able to identify a mushroom to Genus and Species if you are going to eat it.  Using smell to separate an edible Agaricus from a toxic Agaricus may not work for some people, the ability to identify smells varies considerably between individuals.  In addition, I spend a couple of years verifying that my sense of smell was accurate by testing my sense of smell on known edible and toxic Agaricus mushrooms at mycological meetings and mushroom fairs.

 

Once I have established by visual cues that I have found an Agaricus mushroom in good condition, I then use my nose to determine if I am going to eat it or discard it.  In the scent part of the identification process, I separate Agaricus mushrooms into three smell groups: (A) Almond smell; and (B) Mushroom smell; and (C) Phenol, or chemical smell.  Any hint of an Almond smell in an Agaricus mushroom is an automatic ‘keeper’ for eating. For me, all Agaricus mushrooms that have an almond smell are prime for eating.  Those that smell ‘mushroomy’ are also ‘safe’ to eat and some (such as A. bitorquis) are prime edibles.  I discard all Agaricus mushrooms that have any trace of a Phenol, or chemical smell, and as a back-up, I also discard all Agaricus mushrooms that quickly turn bright yellow at the very base of the stem when they are cut open.

 

This system of using both vision and smell in the “identification” of Agaricus mushrooms has proven to be very reliable for me. To date, and over many years, I have never experienced any stomach distress from mistakenly eating a toxic Agaricus mushroom.

 

One of the joys of mushroom identification is that all of your senses can (and should) be used as part of the identification process.  It is fascinating to me that with a little bit of training, a difficult to identify genus of mushrooms, such as Agaricus, can easily be separated into edible and non-edible species by the use of smell.  Many other mushrooms also have specific smells that can aid in identification.  Whether you are new to mycology or a seasoned ‘shroomer’, the nose can become is a valuable tool in navigating the complex task of mushroom identification.”

Portaits and Sketches


we certainly need affordable subsidized housing but more than this we need diverse mixed use housing options for all communities throughout the Americas. We need communities of citizens who stand and are unafraid of reaching out to someone who is troubled. We need pioneers to help create new housing models that are inclusive and that are interspersed between all affluent and segregated communities.

 

 

We need places that are comforting and when we shelter someone who we accommodate their spirit and their heart. We need to make places that are oases for people to thrive and feel welcome. We need places for rest that look at others as guests.  We want the person to feel that his presence is a blessing to all.  We want them to leave and feel that they are welcome back whenever they need a place of refuge from the storm, or to say hello and be remembered.

 

To know homeless people is to know America. To know people who have been afflicted who have come here as immigrants is to know the history of America. When we read the stories of those who make this teeming place of North America and the Americas possible we realize that we are a mestizo civilization. We are not all the same but we all need a place to rest on a bed, feel safe, comforted, warm, protected and at last to live out our days with peace within and all around.  We are the 47% who are here but never forgotten.

 

Aging in the Americas is about wrapping a scarf, a shawl around our elders and making their final hours on this plain as peaceful as the opening a milkweed pod dispensing the seeds throughout the world and them falling back to earth in a pin wheel.

4th-century Papyrus Makes References to Jesus’ ‘wife’ N.Y.Times by Laurie Goldstein from Karen King


 

 

 
Advanced religious practices draw no distinction between gender and relationships to the divine. The opposite is actually more accurate, that the earliest consecration of a deity and of those most closely associated with transmitting the word, the nature and tenor of God were and still are women.
Editorial Comment

 “4th Century Papyrus Makes References to Jesus’s Wife,”  By Laurie Goldstein September 19, 2012 New York Times

“CAMBRIDGE, Mass. — A historian of early Christianity at Harvard Divinity School has identified a scrap of papyrus that she says was written in Coptic in the fourth century and contains a phrase never seen in any piece of Scripture: “Jesus said to them, ‘My wife …’ ”

Evan McGlinn for The New York Times

“Professor Karen L. King, in her office at  Harvard Divinity School, held a fragment of papyrus that she says was written in Coptic in the fourth century and contains a reference to Jesus’ wife.”

 
“The faded papyrus fragment is smaller than a business card, with eight lines on one side, in black ink legible under a magnifying glass. Just below the line about Jesus having a wife, the papyrus includes a second provocative clause that purportedly says, “she will be able to be my disciple.”

The finding was made public in Rome on Tuesday at the International Congress of Coptic Studies by Karen L. King, a historian who has published several books about new Gospel discoveries and is the first woman to hold the nation’s oldest endowed chair, the Hollis professor of divinity.

The provenance of the papyrus fragment is a mystery, and its owner has asked to remain anonymous. Until Tuesday, Dr. King had shown the fragment to only a small circle of experts in papyrology and Coptic linguistics, who concluded that it is most likely not a forgery. But she and her collaborators say they are eager for more scholars to weigh in and perhaps upend their conclusions.

Even with many questions unsettled, the discovery could reignite the debate over whether Jesus was married, whether Mary Magdalene was his wife and whether he had a female disciple. These debates date to the early centuries of Christianity, scholars say. But they are relevant today, when global Christianity is roiling over the place of women in ministry and the boundaries of marriage.

The discussion is particularly animated in the Roman Catholic Church, where despite calls for change, the Vatican has reiterated the teaching that the priesthood cannot be opened to women and married men because of the model set by Jesus.

Dr. King gave an interview and showed the papyrus fragment, encased in glass, to reporters from The New York Times, The Boston Globe and Harvard Magazine in her garret office in the tower at Harvard Divinity School last Thursday.

She repeatedly cautioned that this fragment should not be taken as proof that Jesus, the historical person, was actually married. The text was probably written centuries after Jesus lived, and all other early, historically reliable Christian literature is silent on the question, she said.

But the discovery is exciting, Dr. King said, because it is the first known statement from antiquity that refers to Jesus speaking of a wife. It provides further evidence that there was an active discussion among early Christians about whether Jesus was celibate or married, and which path his followers should choose.

“This fragment suggests that some early Christians had a tradition that Jesus was married,” she said. “There was, we already know, a controversy in the second century over whether Jesus was married, caught up with a debate about whether Christians should marry and have sex.”

Dr. King first learned about what she calls “The Gospel of Jesus’s Wife” when she received an e-mail in 2010 from a private collector who asked her to translate it. Dr. King, 58, specializes in Coptic literature, and has written books on the Gospel of Judas, the Gospel of Mary of Magdala, Gnosticism and women in antiquity.

The owner, who has a collection of Greek, Coptic and Arabic papyri, is not willing to be identified by name, nationality or location, because, Dr. King said, “He doesn’t want to be hounded by people who want to buy this.”

When, where or how the fragment was discovered is unknown. The collector acquired it in a batch of papyri in 1997 from the previous owner, a German. It came with a handwritten note in German that names a professor of Egyptology in Berlin, now deceased, and cited him calling the fragment “the sole example” of a text in which Jesus claims a wife.

The owner took the fragment to the Divinity School in December 2011 and left it with Dr. King. In March, she carried the fragment in her red handbag to New York to show it to two papyrologists: Roger Bagnall, director of the Institute for the Study of the Ancient World, at New York University, and AnneMarie Luijendijk, an associate professor of religion at Princeton University.

They examined the scrap under sharp magnification. It was very small — only 4 by 8 centimeters. The lettering was splotchy and uneven, the hand of an amateur, but not unusual for the time period, when many Christians were poor and persecuted.

It was written in Coptic, an Egyptian language that uses Greek characters — and more precisely, in Sahidic Coptic, a dialect from southern Egypt, Dr. Luijendijk said in an interview.

What convinced them it was probably genuine was the fading of the ink on the papyrus fibers, and traces of ink adhered to the bent fibers at the torn edges. The back side is so faint that only five words are visible, one only partly: “my moth[er],” “three,” “forth which.”

“It would be impossible to forge,” said Dr. Luijendijk, who contributed to Dr. King’s paper.

Dr. Bagnall reasoned that a forger would have had to be expert in Coptic grammar, handwriting and ideas. Most forgeries he has seen were nothing more than gibberish. And if it were a forgery intended to cause a sensation or make someone rich, why would it have lain in obscurity for so many years?

“It’s hard to construct a scenario that is at all plausible in which somebody fakes something like this. The world is not really crawling with crooked papyrologists,” Dr. Bagnall said.

The piece is torn into a rough rectangle, so that the document is missing its adjoining text on the left, right, top and bottom — most likely the work of a dealer who divided up a larger piece to maximize his profit, Dr. Bagnall said.

Much of the context, therefore, is missing. But Dr. King was struck by phrases in the fragment like “My mother gave to me life,” and “Mary is worthy of it,” which resemble snippets from the Gospels of Thomas and Mary. Experts believe those were written in the late second century and translated into Coptic. She surmises that this fragment is also copied from a second-century Greek text.

The meaning of the words, “my wife,” is beyond question, Dr. King said. “These words can mean nothing else.” The text beyond “my wife” is cut off.

Dr. King did not have the ink dated using carbon testing. She said it would require scraping off too much, destroying the relic. She still plans to have the ink tested by spectroscopy, which could roughly determine its age by its chemical composition.

Dr. King submitted her paper to The Harvard Theological Review, which asked three scholars to review it. Two questioned its authenticity, but they had seen only low-resolution photographs of the fragment and were unaware that expert papyrologists had seen the actual item and judged it to be genuine, Dr. King said. One of the two questioned the grammar, translation and interpretation.

Ariel Shisha-Halevy, an eminent Coptic linguist at Hebrew University in Jerusalem, was consulted, and said in an e-mail in September, “I believe — on the basis of language and grammar — the text is authentic.”

Major doubts allayed, The Review plans to publish Dr. King’s article in its January issue.

Dr. King said she would push the owner to come forward, in part to avoid stoking conspiracy theories.

The notion that Jesus had a wife was the central conceit of the best seller and movie “The Da Vinci Code.” But Dr. King said she wants nothing to do with the code or its author: “At least, don’t say this proves Dan Brown was right.”

 
 
 
Advanced religious practices draw no distinction between gender and relationships to the divine. The opposite is actually more accurate, that the earliest consecration of a deity and of those most closely associated with transmitting the word, the nature and tenor of God were and still are women.