The Purpose of Parables
Each time an old woman leaves her house, she returns to it freshly cleaned. Soon after, she discovers and elf beneath her floorboard. He must have taken a liking to her and decided to help her keep her home in order. The old woman is touched and decides to leave him some cookies as a thank you. But! The next time she returns, she finds the cookies left out, the house a mess, and the elf is gone. What happened?
Consider another scenario: A woman has a crush on a coworker. She is very nice to this coworker and goes out of her way to help him in any way she can. At first, the coworker accepts and is appreciative of the woman’s kindness, although he suspects the underlying motive and does not return the interest. Then, after some time, the coworker decides to address the issue more directly, as he has a wife and feels the relationship is getting inappropriate. Immediately, the woman denies any romantic interest. How scandalous! She assures him, falsely, that he read the situation all wrong. Moving forward, she is strictly professional and does no more than the bare minimum. Soon after, she decides to take a new role, and the coworker does not hear from her again.
In both cases, the situation shifts and breaks once it is acknowledged directly. The elves were not meant to be seen, and the woman’s admiration was not to be approached directly. The coworker may have, instead, purposefully shown devotion to his wife, allowing for a more delicate end to the woman's hopes. Both cases were too delicate to be addressed head-on; the latter hardened and the former evaporated when approached without proper discretion.
Likewise, or rather in respect of this lesson, Christ and other mystics often speak indirectly—that is, in parables. They do so because they wish to dance around certain truths without calcifying and thereby changing or distorting their nature.
Consider Schrödinger's cat. Here is an explanation from an excellent YouTube video on the thought experiment:
Schrödinger imagined taking a cat and placing it in a sealed box with a device that had a 50% chance of killing the cat in the next hour. At the end of that hour, he asked, "what is the state of the cat?" Common sense suggests that the cat is either alive or dead. But Schrödinger pointed out that, according to quantum physics, at the instant before the box is opened, the cat is equal parts alive and dead at the same time. It's only when the box is opened that we see a single definite state. Until then, the cat is a blur of probability, half one thing and half the other. This seems absurd, which was exactly Schrödinger’s point... Yet, as absurd as it may seem, Schrödinger’s cat is very real.
To repeat, the imagined cat is equal parts alive and dead while it is unobserved in a closed box. However, once observed, the poison or non-poison manifests in a single state, and the cat either dead or alive.
Prior to observation, the poison is only in a state of potential, and therefore is partially active and partially dormant. A poison that is partially active and partially dormant means the cat is both partially dead and partially alive. The quantum, then, is the place of potential. It is the place prior to things solidifying into a single state.
So, one way to solidify something—i.e., to bring it out of the state of potential and force it into a single state—is to observe it. This observation may provide context to the common direction of Christ to his disciples, when he tells them to “watch and pray,” an instruction he gives three times in the New Testament.
Watch and pray, that ye enter not into temptation: the spirit indeed is willing, but the flesh is weak. — (KJV) Matthew 26:41
Take ye heed, watch and pray: for ye know not when the time is. — (KJV) Mark 13:33
Watch and pray, that ye enter not into temptation: the spirit indeed is willing, but the flesh is weak. — (KJV) Mark 14:38
With this in mind, my suggestion is that the parable has the opposite effect: it avoids the solidity of a single state, it maintains the state of potential. This rests on the assumption that, aside from observing, another way to solidify a circumstance is speak of it and do so directly. A claim illustrated by the parable of the one-sided office romance. It is this consequence of direct speech—that is, bringing a reality out of potential and into direct experience—which the mystic must often (but not always) avoid. It is during these times that he speaks in parables.
Socrates, a true mystic, does exactly this. Plato’s dialogues often feature Socrates dancing around but often never reaching a solid, solidified conclusion. Plato’s Republic is a discussion that leads to three slightly flawed definitions of justice, and Socrates constantly apologizing for not getting the right answer. Aristotle, in his Politics, does the opposite. He states a definition or doctrine outright, often only in a few paragraphs.
The reason for this is that their audiences differ (Strauss, The City & Man. On Aristotle’s Politics ¶ 15). Plato is speaking to other philosophers, who he hopes will join him in his dwelling place in the Quantum—or, out of the cave, so to speak. Aristotle is speaking to the more practical statesmen, who needs a more concrete answer that he may implement in a more solidified society. Aristotle, himself, of course, dwells in the sunlight with Plato and the other philosophers. He is only calcifying the rules so that he may pass them down to those still in the cave. YHWH directed a similar process through Moses, the lawgiver, and Aaron, the statesman.
There is an interesting parallel to be made to the chakra system as described by the yogis. In their description, the kundalini energy sits dormant at the base of the spine. As one is able to open different points along the spine (chakras), the energy can then rise, allowing for higher and higher levels of mystical experience. The final chakra is the crown chakra, which can be blocked by calcified ideas. By this I mean that thoughts form an actual energy pattern which can harden atop your skull. If one sees through an old thought pattern (ie, identifies that it is false), the energic pattern breaks or dissolves. If enough thought patterns break, energy can complete its ascent through the spine and release at the top of the skull. In this way, openness to new ideas, as well as an acceptance that one does not know everything and that long held beliefs may be wrong, allow for the completion of this energy pattern.
In a recent Frank Yang video, Yang argues this is the purpose and result of Wittgenstein’s Tractatus.
(Wittgenstein) uses language to deconstruct itself until he destroys language. He thinks all philosophers are mentally masturbating. They are only looking for the Truth within the structure of language or concepts. Wittgenstein's book is short. It’s just axiom after axiom—really short sentences that are almost like koans. Each axiom not only annihilates the previous statement but annihilates itself. His goal was to destroy every single philosopher since Plato. Because he thinks they are all trapped in concepts. They aren’t arriving at Truth.
The last sentence of the Tractatus—this is like my favorite quote ever: “What we cannot speak of, must be passed over in silence.” He is saying that his book is just a ladder. Once you have used the ladder, the ladder must be thrown away. Likewise, the buddha said once you use the raft to cross over the river, you have to throw it away. You don’t need it anymore. Wittgenstein’s book says the same thing. His little book not only destroys the whole history of philosophy, it destroys itself. After he wrote that book, he retired from philosophy and became a schoolteacher. (Laughs) He’s a mad man!
And here, I might add, lies a benefit of faith: If one can accept (1) that God knows all, and we cannot. This is because the conceptual mind is not capable of a direct encounter with the Truth. And, therefore, (2) all will be well without us conceptualizing the world for ourselves. Then, one can release the burden of calcified thought and connect with divinity through the crown chakra. This connection (or communion), of course, is the goal of the mystic. And it is along this path he must lead his followers. To cross this river, he must speak in parables, without ever achieving so solid a conclusion that it is carried beyond its use.
