The Logos: The Meletic Testament (Chapter 4 The Testimony)
đź“ś Chapter 4: The Testimony
1. And it came to pass that the growing voices of dissent in Athens grew vociferous and angry.
2. Not from one camp, but from two—those people who bowed to the old gods, and those who knelt to the new one, named the Messiah.
3. They called Ariston a deceiver, heretic and corrupter of sacred order. He was nothing of the sort.
4. For he spoke not of Olympus nor of Golgotha, but of To Ena instead with a sincere tone in his voice.
5. And To Ena had no temple to be worshipped, no altar, no blood sacrifice in its name.
6. Only the recognition of the truth, and the fire of awakening that ran in the veins of Asterion.
7. So they brought him before the magistrate like a common criminal, a man of law but not of understanding.
8. The chamber was stone, cold and echoing, as if was built to silence any voices who dared to confront the law with objection.
9. Asterion stood without any fear in his eyes, yet all eyes who were present saw him bound.
10. The magistrate asked as he stared into him eyes, 'Do you deny the charges against you?'
11. Asterion replied—I deny nothing, for I have done nothing but speak my peace. Ask those people who have heard me speak; for they are my witnesses.
12. Since I have you before me, I shall ask—Then you confess, to what they accuse you of?
13. I confess only that the truth is not owned by any gods or men, who seat upon thrones—would answer.
14. As he stood before the magistrate, he was asked the question—Then, you deny the gods, and even the Christian God?
15. —I deny that which I have no need for. Let the Pagans and Christians believe in what they believe. I am no one to change their minds. But, when they come to me, I shall tell them what I believe in, To Ena, the One.
16. The magistrate asked with a keen interest expressed—To Ena, the One. Who is this One that I may know?
17. It is the underlying source of all existential reality and life—Asterion replied afterwards.
18. —How do you know what you say is actually true? And can you proof it? It could be a falsehood after all.
19. It is not a matter of whether I believe it is true, but will you believe it is true?—Asterion said.
20. —Your words reveal the depth of your wisdom, but it does not answer my question.
21. —Then, I shall tell you this. That which is the truth of To Ena is reflected, not n in the worth of my words or philosophy, but in the presence of life itself.
22. What do you mean by that statement said?—The magistrate asked Asterion directly.
23. —When you see the stars brighten, what do you see? When you see the moonlight, what do you see? When you see a rainbow, what do you see? And lastly, when you see the sunlight, what do you see?
24. —But these things you mention come from the stars, the moon, the sky, and the sun.
25. These things may appear to becoming from where you say they derive, but they come from cosmic order of the Logos—Asterion replied.
26. The magistrate listened closely—But where does this Logos of yours come from then?
27. —The Logos comes from To Ena, just as the stars, the moon, the rainbow, and the sun.
28. You realise that I have authority over you to decide your fate. An authority that I hold over you—the magistrate emphasised.
29. —The same authority that is held over you as well. For you see, you too must be accountable for your actions and bow to this authority.
30. The crowd suddenly murmured—some in anger, some in awe with his audacity displayed.
31. At first, the magistrate frowned, for he saw no fear in Asterion’s eyes nor in his posture.
32. —Indeed you are bold, but you must be punished or exiled. I have no other choice but to silence you.
33. And Asterion said—If punishment is the price of honesty, then let it be paid not through my sweat, but through my wisdom.
34. But from amongst the crowd came sudden cries in uproar—not of condemnation, but of pleading.
35. His students, his followers, those who had studied under his teaching could not see him be punished.
36. Go. Live. Teach elsewhere. Please, let not this place be your final tomb—they begged him.
37. Asterion turned to the magistrate and said with no fear in his eyes. He understood his situation.
38. —Exile is but a change of soil only. Truth grows wherever it is planted. I think not of myself, for I am not selfish as the ego of others. I think of those poor individuals who beg me to live.
39. The magistrate, unmoved had declared his decision. He knew that his decision would please some who were the enemies of Ariston and angry those who were his supporters.
40. —Then let it be so. You shall leave this city by dawn on your own accord, and return never, until allowed to. Is that clear?
41. 'Understood—said Asterion. And the seal was struck, not with justice, but with fear.
42. Before he dismissed Asterion, the magistrate asked one last question to Asterion—Are you a prophet or a mystic?
43. Asterion would reply with candour in his words—I am neither; for I am just a man.
44. —Then you are neither the son of Zeus, or the son of another god like the Christians profess of their Christ?'
45. Asterion smiled and acknowledged—No, I am only the son of the earth that born me.
46. That night, the city did not sleep as usually it did. The stars above of the cosmos, looked down unto Athens. Lamps burnt in quiet homes, and voices whispered in alleys about the exile of Asterion.
47. Some people curst his name in public, others wept for him, knowing he would be leaving the city, as an exiled man, but Asterion sat beneath the olive tree, unmoved, as the stars above watched in silence.
48. His students gathered once more, not with fiery torches, but with trembling hearts of anguish.
49. —Teacher, we shall go with you, wherever you decide to go. We cannot let you go alone.
50. But he answered to them—No. My conscience is not a caravan—it is a torch that I must carry alone. Carry my wisdom where you stand, and know that I shall triumph not out of glory, but with reason.
51. But they will forget and not allow you to return so easily—one cried from amongst them.
52. —Then remind them. Not with words that speak with vengeance, but with being in your soul.
53. At dawn, he walked afterwards through the city gates, as an exiled man for the second time in his life. He was once abandoned as a child. No guards escorted him—none dared bother to care about his exile. They had other matters to think about. They effectuated their instructions.
54. The wind carried his robe like a banner, even though he bore no flag. And behind him, silence that attested to his exile from Athens. The city that saw him born, would witness his exile too.
55. Not a silence of absence, but of reverence for a man who appeared poor in wealth, but was enriched in the soul. A man who his enemies sought to silence.
56. The magistrate watched from his high window, intrigued. There was this unusual premonition that he was sensing, as if with the exile of Asterion, his good fortune would change.
57. And he said to his scribe —He leaves as a poor man, but they will remember him as someone more than that.
58. The scribe nodded, knowing that the exile of Asterion would unsettle his students.
59. In the days that followed, the city changed. Not because Asterion was exiled, but because the people had reacted. The public buildings stood tall in their structure, but fewer entered their premise.
60. The bustled of the agora continued its course, but fewer listened to its daily noise. For Asterion had planted something deeper than mere doctrine. He had planted a philosophy.
61. Children asked their parents—Who was he? Or why was he exiled in the first place?
62. And the wise parents would answer—A man who spoke without shouting or demanding.
63. He was a man who taught without commanding, but with wisdom and compassion in his heart.
64. A man who left behind his remembrance, but never truly departed from life itself.
65. And in hidden corners, scrolls were copied then to record the event of his exile from Athens. Not of law, but of light that bore the reflection of his thoughts and of his wisdom practised.
66. His words, once condemned, became a refuge for the poor and suffering in society.
67. His exile, once a punishment, became a lasting call to save his philosophical teachings. And I proceeded to write emphatic words of him, for all to read and to understand also.
68. Thus, they cast him out like a wretched thief, but he became the horizon to look for. They silenced him, but he became the echo that reached the ears of his students.
69. Thus, they feared him like a man does of his foe, because he dared to defy them with his courage. And freedom, to the bound, is heresy that must be condemned and spoke against always.
70. So let this testimony of his be not about a trial or an exile, but of the truth that he revealed through his philosophy.
71. After the decree was issued, Asterion did not retreat out disgrace or fear of retribution. Before he had left the city, he stood amongst his students before a sturdy pillar, not as a victim, but as a witness to the events that exiled him.
72. He told all to ask the question who were present, why he did not resist? To not think of him as a coward.
73. It is because the truth does not wrestle with falsehood—it reveals itself amidst that falsehood.
74. They gathered in the courtyard with sorrow in their eyes, beneath the cracked columns. Some wept incessantly, whilst others clenched their fists out of anger and annoyance.
75. You are innocent—they cried all in unanimity. They supported Asterion until the end.
76. —Then let innocence be my exile. Do not allow your anger to overcome your sense of rationality.
77. They can call me a heretic, but I speak only my truth. Let that comfort you in your hour of anger—he continued.
78. —Because I spoke in public only of To Ena, which neither sanctifies nor condemns.
79. —I told them that To Ena does not demand worship like a god—it inspires awakening in one.
80. —And to those people who fear awakening and hide in their cloaks of fear, even silence is rebellion to them.
79. A young student then asked—But why do you not fight to be cleared of your injustice?
80. Asterion smiled—It is the breath before thought, young man. The stillness beneath desire. To be defiant, would only provoke my antagonists against all of you.
81. —It is not on the behalf of a god, nor a law, nor a name I speak of or address in public or in privacy.
82. —It is what remains when all names fall away, after they are seen for their falsehood.
83. Another asked—Why do they condemn you without true evidence? What crime have you committed that warrants exile?
84. That is simple to answer, because the truth cannot be owned, and they need no evidence to please their egos—Asterion said.
85. The truth was what cannot be owned, cannot be controlled, unless it allows itself to be controlled.
86. And what cannot be controlled, terrifies even the powerful who sit upon thrones or stand before a congregation.
87. Let me tell you a story. One that will enrich your knowledge—Asterion told his students.
88. He began by saying—There was once a unique lantern that burnt without oil it seemed.
89. —The priests declared it blasphemy, for it defied the rituals they performed or practised.
90. —The scholars declared it immediately fraud, for it defied the logic they had studied in the academies.
91. —But the children gathered around it sensing something, and saw by its light the presence of something they had not sensed before.
92. —And my students, that is To Ena. All that is represented by being. It its being and nothing more that defines our existence.
93. He had another story to share that he hoped would stay in the depth of our minds.
94. It was about a man who was a stranger who once climbed a tall mountain to find his truth. It was journey like no other for him.
95. At the summit despite his weariness and determination, he found only a mirror of himself.
96. He smashed it, thinking it mockery of his guise, and wasted effort of his climbing.
97. And then he descended, unchanged with disgust, as if he had discovered not what he was searching, but absolute failure instead.
98. The moral of the story was that truth is not hidden—it is refused to those people who only seek its rewards.
99. A student asked with curiosity—Should we fight for you? How can we just do nothing?
100. Asterion replied as he stared at the student—I do not need you to fight for me, but to be patient. It is easier to fight than to be patient.
101. He paused before he continued with his speech—If you must fight, fight first your own struggle.
102. He told us to resist, resist forgetting. To know that the truth is always our witness in life.
103. To not build shrines in his name to honour him like a prophet or glorified sage of history.
104. To not carve his words into mere stone, and settle on his reputation as a philosopher.
105. To let them live in breath, in silence, in awareness, and in choice. For in these things, we shall find him still present.
106. For once written, truth becomes law. And law forgets why it was born to bear justice.
107. He told us that they will call you all astray, if you dare to listen to their slandering of me—he warned.
108. He warned us that they will say you have abandoned the gods, and therefore, you too should be punished or exiled.
109. To smile first, and then ask them what they have found in return to reward their souls?
110. If they answer with fear, we have not abandoned anything. On the contrary, it showed that we had gained everything that wisdom will reveal to us.
111. To not be tempted by many things in life, but know that temptation can never defeat virtues.
112. That they will attempt to make us all believe in many things that they will speak against us falsely.
113. To resist this as we dwell amongst them, if we deem him honourable and our teacher.
114. For causes divide, but To Ena unites. It was something to never forget. In unity, we will all thrive in philosophy. Meleticism is that philosophy.
115. Perhaps, we would be lonely after he have departed and cast into the shadow of exile.
116. For few people walk without maps in life to reach their ultimate destination in life.
117. But in that loneliness, we will hear the world again stir. Not to clamour his betrayal, but to honour his memory.
118. Not as noise to detest that one hears daily in the streets, but as music to heed its soothing cadence.
119. To know that we shall indeed be mocked by others, who scorn me and seek to silence his voice.
120. For those people who live in hatred, we should do not spite them; for we uphold the greatest virtue that is wisdom that they covet.
121. He urged us again not to hate them in return; for they are merely ignorant of themselves.
122. They are not your enemy that we must defeat with the sword—they are our mirror, unawakened. That is all.
123. And when we doubt, know that we can return to our selves, knowing that is our soul that guides it.
124. To return to the stillness that awakens our souls, and the awareness that guides them wisely.
125. To return not to him out of devotion, not to words, but to the breath before thought.
126. There, To Ena waits for us all. This was the final message that he said before leaving us all.
127. The grove was quiet then, save for the wind threading through the leaves, as the students departed. I remained. Asterion sat upon the earth, his back against the oldest tree, observing what would be his last time in the grove, until he could return.
128. I sat beside him, not as a student of philosophy, but as a son of thought. He was like a father to me.
129. Heromenes, you have heard my words uttered like the others gathered. Now hear my silence in my absence—he said.
130. I did not speak; for I did not know what to reply. I merely waited in anticipation.
131. He told me that they will forget him, but I must not. I am the root of his tree. Without me, that tree would die.
132. They will not forget him for his mere sake, but for ours to expand, as well as Meleticism.
134. For memory is not about the importance of names—it is about the direction in life we take.
135. He plucked an olive from the branch and held it in his palm, as he expressed his words to me.
136. He told me that the fruit was bitter until it is pressed against the surface. This was an obvious sign.
137. So too the soul—it must be pressed to yield the conscience, and allow to continue to exist.
138. —And I have been pressed, Heromenes. By wealth, by truth, and now by the thought of exile.
139. He did not regret the magistrate’s decree imposed upon him. He did what he was ordered to do. Who am was he to fault him for that?
140. For this decree has freed him from the illusion of pretending to be someone else than who he was.
141. He belonged to his soul then. And his soul belonged to him. It had a life attachment to him.
142. He told me that I must not defend him, but be patient, as the days of his exile became weeks, months, or even years.
143. To not argue on his behalf, but ignore the naysayers; for their vileness is not of their own making, but of their own ego.
144. To let them speak with their fiery tongues. Let them condemn with their injustice. Let them forget his name with their mockering.
145. And that I shall—remember that life is but one. We are not guaranteed the next day. We are only guaranteed the present moment in life.
146. To remember that the truth is not loud in voices. Instead, it is loud in thought and message.
147. It does not shout in the courts of the politicians or the triumph in the debates of philosophers.
148. It waits in the grove to be heard, in the breath and in the gaze to be witnessed by all who sense its presence.
149. He looked at me then, and I saw no fear in his eyes. I saw the acceptance of his exile. Only the calm of one who had already departed in his soul, and was waiting for his body to do so also.
150. I shall walk away now, but I shall not be gone. For I tell you that I shall return one day—he said.
151. —For now, you must carry me, Heromenes. Not in the scrolls written, but in the awareness of your soul.
152. —Do not only teach my words, but spread my wisdom, with the knowledge of my philosophy.
153. He taught me the meaning of the understanding of them, and that I would discover how others teach others their meaning.
154. For words are merely seeds in the ground, but understanding is the fruit that one tastes and one talks about to others.
155. He taught me to not build animosity against those people who accused blatantly of the acts of heresy'.
156. Instead, to build more questions. Build more awareness. Build more space for soulful awakening.
157. When they ask me, who do you follow to say that I follow what remains when all else fades, To Ena, not a god nor me.
158. The sun began to lower gradually, casting long shadows across the vastness of the grove. Asterion stood firmly, slowly, as if rising from the earth itself. The image of the sun in the background was as if nature was saying goodbye to Asterion before his exile.
159. This was his final testimony, before his exile.—How ironic but yet beautiful is that the sun shall escort me in my exile.
160. He did not think at this moment about the magistrate who exiled him, nor the crowd who supported him—but of me.
161. He said—Live rightly, Heromenes. I ask of you. It is not a debt I impose upon you, but more a request.
162. That in my life, I should live not loudly. Not proudly as well, but rightly so, as a student of Meleticism.
163. When I spoke of him, to speak not of his exile. Instead, speak of his wisdom that is more enduring.
164. To speak of the grove that is the face of nature, and speak of To Ena, the unity of all being.
165. The grove stood still then, as if holding its breath, mourning the exile of Asterion. Asterion rose without any ceremony made, his figure blending into the olive shade.
166. No farewell was spoken or given, for none was needed. He did not want for his exile to overshadow his mission which was his philosophy. The silence between us had become personal but memorable. I could sense this as we reached the moment of his departure.
167. I watched him walk gradually away, each step a release of his burden or preoccupation for us. He did not look back once in his steps, and I did not call out his name to stop him from leaving.
168. The path he took was not marked by mere stones of men, but by the memory I had of him. And this memory that I treasured, I knew, would be my burden and at the same time, my gift.
169. I remained beneath the tree alone in my thoughts, where his words had settled like the fallen dust.
170. The earth was warm that day, the air thick with olive scent that permeated over the grove.
171. I pressed my palm to the soil, as if to anchor myself through the difficulty of his exile.
172. And in that touch, I felt the instant pulse of something older than grief that haunted me.
173. The teachings he gave me were not mere lessons to be taught—they were awakenings of the soul.
174. Not to be recited in the halls of the academies, but to be lived in the streets or fields.
175. Not to be defended by the swift anger of vengeance, but to be embodied by wisdom.
176. I understood now: truth does not survive in written scrolls. It survives in choices we make and take.
177. I did not weep like a child would of his parents; instead I thought only of his return that comforted me in my despair.
178. Verily, for what he gave me in life could not be lost in memory or the passing of time.
179. It had entered me like a fresh breath, like a fresh light or like stillness itself that encompassed me.
180. And I would carry it far—not as religious doctrine to spread or preach, but as a direction in life.
181. The grove became my loyal companion and my witness, when I needed to find my thoughts alone.
182. Its branches whispered what Asterion no longer needed to say, or what he was contemplating.
183. Its roots held the great weight of his silence and his absence. An absence that I would be counting its days.
184. And I, Heromenes, became the listener. And in time, I became the voice of the grove.
185. I did not leave suddenly, when the sun fell upon the grove, as others usually would.
186. I remained behind, tracing the patterns of the shadow that were approaching form the horizon and the memory in the mind.
187. The magistrate’s decree no longer mattered; for he was gone. There was nothing that I could do to change that outcome.
188. Even though, the city’s judgement had grown distant and bitter during the exile of Asterion.
189. What remained was indeed, the vastness of the grove, despite the absence of Asterion.
190. And the man who had walked away without leaving, would begin a new chapter in his life.
191. I closed my eyes and breathed afresh, as he had taught me to do so before meditating my thoughts.
192. Slowly. Fully. Without any fear in my eyes or soul, I began to deal with his absence.
193. I did not vow to preserve his name for the sake of glory, because I knew he would return.
194. Instead, I vowed to preserve his way, as a loyal man who followed the guidance of his wisdom.
195. In the way I listened to his teachings and philosophy that enriched my knowledge.
196. In the way I forgave others who condemned him to the wretched loneliness of his exile.
197. In the way I stood still when others ran out of fear or retribution, because he was different.
198. In the way I chose silence over spectacle and hearsay, because I knew what was better for me.
199. In the way I let the truth speak without my voice being silenced, amongst the naysayers.
200. And so, beneath the olive tree, I became the echo and testimony of Asterion.
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