Rosicrucian Writings Online

An Interesting Letter

[From The Mystic Triangle October 1927]
One of our members recently wrote to us enclosing a letter she had just received from her uncle. He is a prominent clergyman of the Episcopal Church. He had never met his Niece, but she wrote to him about mystical matters hoping to interest him in our work and teachings. Her letter to him merely attempted to sound him on the subject of mysticism without telling him too much. She was greatly pleased as well as surprised at the letter she received from the clergyman. After we read it we recalled that during the past few months we have had a number of letters from clergymen of different denominations expressing their firm conviction of the truth of the doctrines of reincarnation--many of them after having read the serial article on this subject which appeared recently in this magazine. So, we asked permission of our sister to publish her uncle's letter and she has granted it.
Now, imagine her surprise receiving such a letter as this from a man much older than herself, and one known to thousands as a great thinker, writer and speaker in behalf of his church:
Dear Marie:
We two have met, I feel quite sure, in the long, long ago. I was a fat negro eunuch body servant to Alexander--son-in-law of Annas the Jewish High Priest, and you were the waiting maid to Puella, wife of Pontius Pilate.
You will recall--if you scratch your subconscious head--that one day when the Nazarene Jesus was speaking on the temple courts at Jerusalem and we sat near each other in the colonnade, that he cried, holding his hands above his head, his magnificent and striking face aglow and his powerful physique straining in the sway of his passion--"Woe to you scribes, pharasees, hypocrites, for you strain at a gnat and swallow a camel"--that you gave me a poke in the ribs with the handle of the great feathered shade you were holding over your Mistress. For as he uttered the stinging words he looked squarely at my Master, his brother Caiaphas and their father-in-law, the wily Annas. When you poked me, I laughed aloud and Alexander knocked me on the head with his mace, and all but stunned me. It was the touch of your sympathetic left hand that, unobserved, found mine and restored my tottering wits.
Although I have been re-born forty-three times since then, yet when I read your splendid letter, dimly at first and slowly, then clearly, memory was re-born and I recognized you as the Miriam and myself as the Gualtrum of those far-off days.
How the ages have slipped around, and now those words--insistent words--of Jesus the Great Master come knocking at our own consciousness for recognition. We are not far removed from the gullibility of our ancient Masters, are we? We strain at the Master's simple message or His wisdom in making us what we are--and we swallow the camel that contradicts the fundamental principles of progressive science and normal nature.
Needless to say I did enjoy the two volumes very much, and thank you for the possibility of the treat. I have a distinct leaning toward the esoteric. It gives scope for endless imagination and correct thinking. To tell the truth is always the simpler and easier method of thought transference, whether written or oral; because one does not have to worry about sequence. But when one gets into the whirl of imagination (and I deem those books "The Masters of the East" novel and romance rather than the truth) one must be mighty careful of mental, magnetic, tangents. To believe what is contrary to experience--is credulity.
I have read many works on Indian religions and philosophic life, and while every writer speaks in glowing terms of their high spiritual nature and possibilities, none affirm any such assertions as those books contain. (Read Manly Jones.) Mahatma Ghandi and Dr. Tagore are the two outstanding figures in the national life of India today, both spiritual men, both non-Christians, but both humble followers of Jesus of Nazareth. They feel that in the clear light of Jesus, their old Pythagorean ideals were groundless. There is a conscious re-birth into a new life, into the kingdom of God, but not a succession. Read Jesus in the New Testament. Do not weight Him with the weaknesses of His followers, or the uncharitable and dogmatic teaching of associations bearing His name. Christ can and must be able to bear every honest criticism that the world may hurl against Him, otherwise He cannot be Christ, for "in meeting Him you meet the reality of God" and of your own life. This is not a sermon--but thought, provoked by your really thought-provoking letter.
I should very much like to meet you. We should fight--I love a fight--and a fighter, if he does not hit below the belt. Yes, we should fight--but be the best of friends. I cannot tolerate folk who say "Yes! Yes!" or "I see! I see!" or "I agree with you," etc., even though I feel I am right. I have a friend, the Lighthouse Keeper on Green Island, a lovely rock in the Pacific where we call monthly, weather permitting. He is witty and impulsive, an incisive thinker and a voracious reader. We seldom agree. It is more interesting to disagree--then we get somewhere. He makes the most of a very circumscribed life. He is like David Greyson's Ice-man, who turned the dog days of August into the cool of December for the fevered and sick. He turns dark, stormy starless nights into day for the anxious mariner.
Your life may not be as big as you would like it, but I think it is bigger than you conceive. Greatness lies in the ability to utilize and I think your other worry will vanish if God blesses you with motherhood, which he may do. Strange, if I had had my choice, I should have been a woman, and the mother of children--many. Yet I do not think I am less the male, because of that psychic something that makes me love children, and women. Nor can I think, judging from your letter, that your desire would make you one whit less the woman and wife.
I am writing this on a little land-locked harbor, on Pearse Island, behind the panhandle of Alaska, about one mile away. It is miles from any human habitation. To the north are rugged snow-capped mountains, rising abruptly from the sea. Conditions are primeval. Flocks of ducklings with their anxious mothers hug the shore as they pass. On the grass flats are broods of geese. Wild life all around, and undisturbed. Not long ago a deer swam across the harbor. I got a picture of it. Barney, the engineer, is going bear shooting tonight. "Bear steaks are prime now." In the sea are all living creatures, from whales to clams, including seals. This harbor got its name from the fact that years ago the whaling ships entered here.
Next trip I shall have my daughter with me. She loves nature, so I hope we shall have a very happy time together. We have been separated almost continuously since her mother's transition, when she was a child a little over a year old. Since she has been able to write we have corresponded weekly, and she is really a delightful and original letter writer. Some of her letters and yours are unique in my receipt of such epistles.
Letters are character studies--for instance, you are (if I am wrong correct me) pugnacious, inclined to be vindictive, aggressive, ruggedly poetic, staunch but not effusively loveable, a loyal friend and, well, I should not like you for an enemy.
If you and Jack can ever find the time and money, I am sure you would enjoy a trip on the "Northern Cross" with God's nature, away from care. And its skipper would be delighted to have you. We have a spare stateroom forward.
With my kindest regards to yourself and Jack, I am, Yours very sincerely,

Uncle Walt.

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