Infinite Way Letter

February 1955

By Joel Goldsmith Part 3 of 4

There Are No Added Things

“I listened, and the Voice told me what to do”—meaning the Voice, still and small, or loud and insistent, that speaks sometimes in moments of meditation. We all know that when we have a problem, a situation in which we do not know how to act, the best and wisest thing is to go into meditation. We know, too, that we must leave the problem outside, as the Orientals leave their shoes outside the door, and very often the solution is there, with our shoes, as we come out. Seldom is the solution in the form of concrete instructions, although sometimes even in that form, but the sense of release, the removal of strain, worry or doubt is a frequently known thing. We know that God is not with humans, that God cannot give advice on matters of health, supply or happiness. Yet God does speak, and in speaking guides our human destiny. To what extent, actually, has the Voice spoken, to what degree of detail has the instruction amounted?

The answer, here, is one that is based purely on interpretation and, indeed, every answer must be based on that. “In what language did God speak to you?” is a question that has been asked of saints and seers. And the reply to that is that the saint understood God without language, and proceeded to translate or interpret that wordless understanding into his own language. And it is on the degree, the quality of the interpretation—both in the interpreter and in the receiver of the interpretation—that the degree of validity must rest.

No message from God is an Absolute one. It cannot be, because there is the translation or interpretation, and the need for communication, to stand in the way. There is the question of how it is to be described or put into words at all. The mystics have grasped, groped and tormented themselves on these lines: they have made denials, they have used parallels from the language of human love, and paradox phrases about dazzling darkness and formless forms. There is the problem of how to choose words that you will be able to understand.

The teacher himself, in his capacity of teacher, is an interference, a screen between God and the receiver. Even the idea of any persons involved at all, is an interference. God must speak His own message wordlessly, and to no one. It is picked up, translated, and then delivered from one man to another, and at once there is a concept—a false concept—taking place. This is true even of the Biblical texts that we like to think of as being permanent and absolute. They have been written down, translated from one tongue into many others; they have gathered meanings and interpretations acquired through the centuries. From a spoken word, which was an attempt to convey a wordless thought, they have been passed down into the phrases that we are always trying to see through and beyond.

To pursue this thought to its ultimate is finally to deny validity to all expression, and to retire into a soundless trance-like state. In the meantime, what are we to do about the present state of affairs, where the translation is all there is, even though we may know that it is never an accurate one? The best we can do is to accept that fact, but, remembering it, to try and train ourselves, our minds and our spirits, to be better translators, to be recipients whose sense of the meaning behind the words is as fine and as high as we can make it. And, especially, never to reach for that interpretation, never to seek it as such, but to listen only for as wordless and intangible an understanding of God as can be made known to us, and never for the message or for the use that the message can bring to us.

This use, this sense of a worldly fulfillment, or a demonstration, not only may seem to happen, it almost always will happen in the earlier stages. The seeker after God, still living in the human world and obsessed by its problems, will find these problems lifted, eased and clarified. Then, as he grows wiser, he will find, with some dismay, that the record of demonstration seems to grow less, and he will begin to wonder what is wrong. We know, now, only too well. “Ye pray amiss.”

As we learn more and more about prayer, we realize more and more how easy it is to pray amiss. There is not one of us now who does not know that one must never pray for things, for persons or for healing; that God cannot change any physical thing; and that matter, as a solid and real entity, will never change under the use of Spirit. That far we have progressed. But there is another danger. We know that we must seek first the kingdom of Heaven, but we also remember that “all these things shall be added unto you.” It is hard to forget that promise. We know that we must not seek these things, that our mind and spirit must be seeking the kingdom of Heaven only—but there is always the thought that if we find God all these things will be added. As has been stated in The Infinite Way Writing of Joel Goldsmith: “There are no added things in God. God is the Thing Itself.” “

End Part 3