tobefree wrote: ↑
"go tell the young Messiah."
Here I'm sorry, but I must disagree. There is an important typo in that quote. This is what the poem says in S1L5-8:
Sure it failed my little fire
But it's bright the dying spark
Go tell the young messiah
What happens to the heart
And this is what it says in the end, standing alone and in italics:
Sure it failed my little fire
But it's bright the dying spark
Go tell the young messiah
What happens to the heart
When the poem was published here on the forum, within a few hours changes were made
— which means it was still in the works. But "messiah" was never spelled with a capital M.
If it were, I'd have to agree that it should refer to Jesus as a trainee before he started teaching; but since this is not the case, methinks it refers to any one of so many messiahs.
For the Christians, Jesus is the one Messiah, as for many Buddhists Siddharta Gautama is the one Buddha
— and such phenomena easily lead to godlike veneration.
But Leonard Cohen was a zen monk; and in zen, the historical Buddha is honoured, of course, along with all the other buddhas and bodhisattvas, past, present and future
— but not venerated, and with perfectly clear operating instructions:
"If you meet the Buddha, kill the Buddha!"
Now I'm a thorough atheist, and I know little about monotheism, belief, prayer and such things. But a messiah, as far as I can see, should be something like a Jewish parallel to a bodhisattva.
After enlightenment, a person might become an arhat (a saint, hinayana, Small Vehicle, personal salvation) or a bodhisattva (a messiah, mahayana, Great Vehicle, all sentient beings).
(Not that anybody could choose, of course
— it just happens the way it happens. Such things are not under our control.)
• A bodhisattva is someone who stays behind with all sentient beings in their suffering, transcending this suffering
— unconditionally.
• Jesus has salvation for those who believe in him (and thus for humans only)
— an anthropocentric restriction, with the necessity for belief as a second restriction.
• Marx has the international solidarity of the working class
— a new restriction to one single social class inside humanity.
So we can say that over the past 2500 years the scope underwent a dire narrowing (in those respective minds).
But even so, all three of them can still be understood as opposed to
my ego, my family, my village, my province, my country, my nation, my empire
as different from others' egos, families, villages, provinces, countries, nations, empires;
and the two of them as different from the rest of the world.
Now as it happened, Leonard Cohen became a bodhisattva in the aftermath of August 1999. And in this context, we can see him as a bodhisattva contemplating Jesus as the physical, practical, spiritual side and Marx as the theoretical, ideological, material side of a depressingly narrow-minded world.
As such, he is well placed to know how important it is that a "young messiah" be told "What happens to the heart":
"Otherworldliness", or detached aloofness, is not enough in the transcending business
— "What happens to the heart" happens in the here-and-now reality, where we've got to get our hands dirty.
In this way of looking at the song/poem, "Meeting Jesus" should not be seen as a parallel to meeting the Buddha.
It rather seems to me that the hereditary priest, Cohen, descendant of Aaron, is meeting the hereditary king, Jesus, descendant of David
— the two of them as equals.
With the difference nevertheless that the priest has gone beyond the world of miracles: "It's over now, the water and the wine" (Treaty). He has reached the tenth Ox-herding Picture
— which Jesus merely was "awarded" posthumously, by his followers.
Jesus, for our priest, at one time was a kind of foxhole radio (as described in "Treaty"), transmitting "the mind of God / Which doesn't need to be"
— for us to listen not to him (Leonard Cohen), but to it (in "Listen to the Hummingbird").
Until there was no need for the radio any longer.
Maybe this can be taken for at least some small bit of "background information"…
●
From the very first reading of the poem it was clear to me that "the dying spark" was inviting us, here on the forum, to accept the mission to "Go tell the young messiah" (or bodhisattva) what he (Leonard Cohen) has taught us. He visibly trusts us to be able both to recognise a "young messiah" when we see one and to understand what he or she needs to learn.
I wrote it before, but let me once again modify a couplet from "Last Year's Man":
I want to thank you, Leonard Cohen,
for teaching us so well.