The Ginza Rabba — Large Print

Introduction

There are books that belong to a single culture, a single moment, a single century. And then there are books that seem to belong to the universe itself — texts so ancient, so layered with meaning, so saturated with the longing of the human spirit for something beyond the visible world, that to open them is to step outside of ordinary time altogether. The scripture you are holding belongs to the second category. It is one of the oldest continuously living religious texts on earth, the sacred heart of a tradition that has survived emperors, caliphs, crusaders, and the slow grinding pressure of modernity. It has been copied by hand across millennia, whispered over the bodies of the dying, sung at the edge of flowing rivers, and guarded with a devotion that borders on the heroic. To read it with full attention is to encounter something genuinely rare: a window into a form of religious consciousness that is neither Christian, nor Jewish, nor Muslim, nor Hindu, and yet somehow speaks in a language that all of these traditions would recognize — the language of light struggling against darkness, of the soul yearning to return home.

The Mandaeans are one of the world's oldest and most misunderstood religious communities. For most of recorded history, they have lived quietly along the rivers of southern Iraq and the Khuzestan region of Iran, practicing their rites of water baptism, honoring their priests, preserving their scrolls, and maintaining a cosmological vision of extraordinary complexity and beauty. They call themselves Mandaiia, a word derived from the Aramaic manda, meaning knowledge — making them, quite literally, a people of gnosis, a people defined by their pursuit of sacred understanding. Their numbers have always been small, their profile deliberately low, their theology deliberately esoteric. And yet the tradition they carry is of incalculable importance to anyone who wishes to understand the spiritual history of the ancient Near East, the origins of Gnosticism, the roots of early Christianity, the world from which John the Baptist emerged, and the broader human conversation about the nature of the soul, the cosmos, and the divine.

What you are about to read is the central scripture of this remarkable people. In Mandaic, the language in which it was composed and preserved, it is known as the Ginza Rba — the Great Treasure. It is a composite text, assembled over centuries, drawing together hymns, cosmological narratives, ritual instructions, mythological accounts, and soul-journey poetry into a single vast repository of sacred knowledge. It is divided into two major sections, the Right Ginza and the Left Ginza, each with its own character, its own concerns, its own emotional register. The Right Ginza looks upward and outward — toward the creation of the world, the nature of the divine realms, the struggle between light and darkness, and the moral responsibilities of the living soul. The Left Ginza turns inward and downward — into death, into the journey of the soul through the afterlife, into the prayers and hymns that guide the departed through the terrifying and magnificent passage from this world to the World of Light. Together, they form a complete vision of existence, from the first moment of creation to the last breath of a dying believer.

To approach this text as a casual reader would be a mistake — not because it is inaccessible, but because it rewards patience and attention with experiences that few other texts can offer. There are passages of such luminous beauty that they stop the breath. There are mythological sequences of such wild creative power that they rival anything in the Babylonian Enuma Elish or the Egyptian Book of the Dead. There are theological arguments of such surprising sophistication that scholars of early Christianity and Judaism have spent careers trying to untangle their implications. And there are moments of such raw, unguarded human feeling — grief at the soul's exile from its heavenly home, joy at the prospect of reunion with the divine — that they transcend all cultural and historical distance and speak directly to the reader's own inner life. This is, in the deepest sense, a living book. It was never meant to be merely read. It was meant to be experienced, internalized, and carried.

The historical context in which this scripture emerged is itself a story of extraordinary drama. The ancient world of Mesopotamia — the land between the Tigris and the Euphrates, the cradle of civilization — was, in the centuries around the turn of the Common Era, a cauldron of religious ferment. Judaism was fracturing into dozens of competing sects. Christianity was being born in pain and controversy. Zoroastrianism was the official religion of the Persian Empire. Babylonian astrology and mythology still shaped the imagination of ordinary people. Mystery cults, apocalyptic movements, and esoteric brotherhoods proliferated across the landscape. It was in this world — a world saturated with competing visions of salvation, cosmic drama, and divine revelation — that Mandaean religion took shape. Scholars debate endlessly about exactly when and how, but the broad consensus is that the tradition is genuinely ancient, with roots that may extend back to the first or second century of the Common Era, and possibly much earlier. The Mandaeans themselves claim a lineage that goes back to Adam, the first man, and to the prophet they revere above all others: Yahia Yuhana, known to the Western world as John the Baptist.

This connection to John the Baptist is one of the most fascinating and contested aspects of Mandaean identity. In Mandaean tradition, John is not the forerunner of Jesus — he is the great prophet in his own right, the supreme teacher of baptism, the one who understood most fully the power of the flowing water to cleanse the soul and connect the individual to the divine. Jesus, by contrast, appears in Mandaean texts as a false messiah, a deceiver who distorted the teachings of John and led his followers astray. This is a startling inversion of the familiar Christian narrative, and it raises profound questions about the religious world of first-century Palestine — questions that scholars are still actively debating. What it tells us, at minimum, is that the Mandaeans preserve a tradition of enormous historical depth, one that remembers the world of John the Baptist from the inside, from the perspective of those who saw him not as a precursor but as the real thing.

The scripture itself reflects this historical depth in every line. Its language — a dialect of Eastern Aramaic known as Classical Mandaic — is one of the oldest continuously used liturgical languages in the world. Its imagery draws on Babylonian astronomy, Persian dualism, Jewish apocalypticism, and a native Mandaean mythological tradition that appears to have no exact parallel anywhere else in the ancient world. Its cosmology is one of the most elaborate and systematically developed in all of ancient religion: a vast hierarchy of divine worlds, each more luminous and perfect than the last, arrayed above a dark and chaotic material universe that was created not by the supreme God but by a series of lesser, flawed, and sometimes actively malevolent beings. The soul of the human being is a spark of divine light, trapped in the darkness of matter, yearning to ascend through the celestial spheres back to its original home in the World of Light. This is the great drama that the scripture narrates, explains, and provides the ritual means to navigate.

A Cosmos of Light and Shadow

To understand what makes this scripture so philosophically rich and emotionally resonant, it helps to spend a moment with its cosmological vision — not to reduce it to a summary, which would be a kind of violence against its complexity, but to sketch the broad outlines that give the reader a framework for what follows. The universe as the Mandaeans conceive it is not a single, unified creation emanating from a single, benevolent God. It is a layered, contested, deeply ambiguous reality, in which light and darkness are not merely metaphors but ontological realities — actual substances, actual forces, that have been in conflict since before the beginning of time as we know it.

At the summit of existence is the supreme divine principle, referred to by various names and titles throughout the text but most often simply as the Great Life, or the First Life. This being is utterly transcendent, beyond all categories, beyond all description, the source of all light and all goodness. From the Great Life proceed a series of divine emanations — beings of light, called uthra, who inhabit the upper worlds and serve as the agents of divine will and divine grace. These worlds of light are described in the scripture with a kind of rapturous, almost hallucinatory beauty: worlds of radiance and perfume and music, where the souls of the righteous dwell in peace, where there is no darkness, no suffering, no death. The descriptions are not merely decorative. They serve a profound psychological and spiritual function, giving the believer a vivid, sensory image of the home to which the soul is trying to return.

Below these worlds of light, and in radical contrast to them, lies the world of darkness — a realm of chaos, malevolence, and spiritual blindness presided over by figures of terrifying power. The material world we inhabit was created, in Mandaean cosmology, through a complex and often violent interaction between these forces of darkness and the lower emanations of the divine light. The creator of the physical world is not the supreme God but a lesser being, a demiurge, who fashioned the material universe in ignorance or defiance of the higher powers. This is one of the most distinctive features of Gnostic thought in general, and the Mandaean version of it is among the most fully developed and narratively rich in all of ancient literature. The creation stories in the Right Ginza are not dry theological propositions. They are vivid, dramatic, sometimes shocking narratives — full of conflict, deception, unexpected reversals, and moments of strange, dark beauty.

Into this flawed and contested material world, the divine light has been scattered. Particles of the Great Life's radiance are trapped in human souls, longing for liberation. The life of the individual believer is therefore not merely a personal story but a cosmic drama: each soul's struggle toward righteousness, each act of baptism, each prayer offered at the edge of a flowing river, is a small but real contribution to the larger project of gathering the scattered light and returning it to its source. This gives the scripture's ethical teachings an urgency and a grandeur that goes far beyond conventional morality. To live rightly is not simply to be a good person. It is to participate in the redemption of the cosmos.

The figure who mediates between the world of light and the world of darkness, who serves as the great guide and redeemer of souls, is Manda d-Hiia — the Knowledge of Life. This being is one of the most fascinating and theologically complex figures in all of ancient religion: a divine emissary who descends into the material world to bring the saving knowledge that allows souls to find their way home, who battles the forces of darkness on behalf of humanity, and who ultimately triumphs not through violence but through wisdom and light. The parallels to other redeemer figures in ancient religion — to Christ, to Osiris, to the Zoroastrian Saoshyant — are obvious and have been extensively discussed by scholars. But Manda d-Hiia is not reducible to any of these parallels. He is a genuinely distinctive figure, and the accounts of his adventures and teachings in the scripture are among the most gripping and theologically suggestive passages in the entire text.

The Left Ginza, the second major section of the scripture, takes all of this cosmological architecture and applies it to the most intimate and universal of human experiences: death. The soul-journey hymns and prayers of the Left Ginza are among the most extraordinary documents in the history of religion. They describe, in vivid and sometimes harrowing detail, the journey of the soul after death — its departure from the body, its encounter with the gatekeepers of the various celestial spheres, its gradual ascent through the worlds of light, and its ultimate arrival in the presence of the Great Life. These are not abstract theological statements. They are practical guides, meant to be recited at funerals, to comfort the dying, and to help the soul navigate the dangers of the afterlife. They are also, in their own way, works of profound literary art — poems of farewell and homecoming, of terror and consolation, of the soul's aching loneliness and its final, overwhelming joy.

Reading the Left Ginza in particular, one is struck by how modern its emotional register feels. The soul speaks in the first person, expressing its fear, its confusion, its longing. It remembers the world it has left behind — the people it loved, the body it inhabited, the rivers where it was baptized. It encounters beings who challenge it, test it, and ultimately guide it. There is nothing cold or abstract about this vision of the afterlife. It is intensely personal, intensely felt, and it speaks to the deepest anxieties and hopes that human beings carry about what happens when we die. In this sense, the Left Ginza is not merely a historical document. It is a living meditation on mortality, and it has things to say to any reader willing to listen.

Reading the Great Treasure Today

The question of how a modern reader should approach a text like this is not a trivial one. We live in a world saturated with information and starved of depth. We are accustomed to texts that give up their meanings quickly, that reward skimming, that can be summarized in a sentence or a tweet. This scripture is the opposite of all of that. It is a text that reveals itself slowly, that requires a different quality of attention than we typically bring to reading, that operates on multiple levels simultaneously — historical, theological, mythological, poetic, and deeply personal. To read it well is to practice a kind of disciplined receptivity, a willingness to sit with difficulty and ambiguity, to let the imagery work on the imagination before demanding that the intellect categorize and explain.

This does not mean that scholarly context is irrelevant. On the contrary, the more one knows about the historical world in which this scripture emerged — the religious landscape of ancient Mesopotamia, the debates within early Judaism and Christianity, the influence of Persian dualism, the practice of Mandaean ritual — the richer and more meaningful the text becomes. Drawing on their work, even in passing, can transform the reading experience from one of baffled wonder to one of informed wonder, which is a richer and more sustainable state.

But scholarly understanding alone is not enough. The Mandaeans themselves would insist — and they would be right — that this scripture is not primarily an object of academic study. It is a living sacred text, embedded in a living religious practice, and it speaks most fully to those who approach it with something like the attitude of the tradition itself: with reverence, with openness, with a willingness to be changed by what they encounter. This does not require the reader to become a Mandaean, or to abandon their own religious commitments, or to suspend critical judgment. It requires only that the reader bring to the text the same quality of serious, open attention that they would bring to any great work of human wisdom — and then a little more, because this particular work is asking for something more than intellectual engagement. It is asking for the reader's soul to be briefly, and perhaps permanently, touched.

One of the most striking things about encountering this scripture for the first time is the realization of how much it challenges our standard narratives about the history of religion. We tend to think of the great religious traditions of the ancient world as a relatively small number of clearly defined streams — Judaism, Christianity, Islam, Zoroastrianism, the various traditions of India and East Asia — each with its own clear origin point, its own canonical texts, its own line of development. The Mandaeans and their scripture complicate this picture in the most productive possible way. Here is a tradition that shares DNA with Judaism, with early Christianity, with Zoroastrianism, with Babylonian religion, and yet is reducible to none of them. Here is a scripture that was being composed and transmitted at the same time as the New Testament, that grappled with many of the same theological questions, that arrived at radically different answers — and that has survived, against all odds, into the present day.

The survival of the Mandaean tradition is itself one of the great stories of human resilience. Over the centuries, they have faced persecution, forced conversion, the destruction of their communities, and the loss of many of their texts and traditions. In recent decades, the catastrophic violence of the Iraq War and its aftermath has devastated the Mandaean community in Iraq, scattering its members to diaspora communities in Australia, Europe, and North America. The number of Mandaeans worldwide is estimated at somewhere between sixty thousand and one hundred thousand — a tiny fraction of humanity, carrying a tradition of incalculable antiquity and richness. The preservation and transmission of their scripture under these conditions is an act of cultural heroism that deserves to be recognized and honored.

Reading this scripture is, among other things, a way of honoring that heroism. It is a way of saying that the knowledge preserved in these pages matters, that the vision of the cosmos and the soul that it articulates deserves to be heard, that the human beings who have devoted their lives to its preservation have not done so in vain. This is not a merely sentimental consideration. The Mandaean tradition, precisely because it has been so marginal, so overlooked, so stubbornly resistant to absorption into the dominant religious narratives of the cultures around it, preserves perspectives and insights that are genuinely irreplaceable. It shows us what religious thought looked like in the ancient Near East before the great orthodoxies hardened into their final forms. It gives us access to a form of spiritual imagination that is simultaneously very old and startlingly fresh.

There is also something deeply instructive about the Mandaean relationship to knowledge itself. In a tradition that defines its adherents as people of gnosis, knowledge is not merely an intellectual virtue. It is a spiritual one. To know — truly to know, in the deep sense that the tradition means — is to be transformed. The knowledge that the scripture conveys is not information about the cosmos. It is participation in the cosmic drama. It is the spark of divine light recognizing itself, remembering where it came from, and beginning the long journey home. This is why the text has the quality it has — why it feels, even in translation, even across the vast cultural distance that separates the modern reader from ancient Mesopotamia, like something more than a historical document. It feels like a message addressed to you, personally, across the centuries. Because in a very real sense, that is exactly what it is.

As you prepare to enter this ancient and extraordinary world, a few practical suggestions may be helpful. Read slowly. Allow yourself to be confused, and trust that the confusion will resolve itself, or that it will teach you something valuable in its own right. Pay attention to the imagery — the rivers, the light, the scales of judgment, the celestial garments, the fragrant worlds above — and let it work on your imagination before you try to interpret it. Notice the emotional register of the text as it shifts from cosmic grandeur to intimate personal prayer. And above all, remember that you are not merely reading about a tradition. You are, for the duration of your reading, a guest within it — a guest who has been granted access to something precious, hard-won, and alive. Treat it accordingly, and it will reward you beyond anything you might reasonably expect from a book.

The pages that follow contain multitudes: creation myths of haunting power, theological arguments of surprising subtlety, ritual hymns of piercing beauty, and soul-journey poetry that ranks among the greatest literature of the ancient world. They contain a vision of the human condition that is simultaneously ancient and urgently contemporary — a vision in which the individual soul is never alone, never without divine support, never beyond the reach of the light that created it and calls it home. They contain, in short, the great treasure that the title promises. The only question is whether you are ready to receive it. Turn the page, and find out.

The Ginza Rabba

Chapter 1

Praised be my Lord of pure heart.

In the name of the great, first, alien Life from the worlds of light, the exalted one who stands above all works, may healing, victory, and forgiveness of sins be granted to me, NN, my father NN, my mother NN, my wife NN, and my children. May Manda-d-Hiia establish their names in his treasury, receive them into the sublime community, and be a support to them. For I placed my trust in the name of the Life, and these books were written so that a remembrance of me might endure in Tibil and my name be established in the House of Perfection.

Likewise, may forgiveness of sins be granted to all priests and Mandaeans who seek instruction in these writings, who hearken to the voice of the Life, and who praise the first Life.

Praised be you, my Lord of pure heart, you Lord of all worlds.

Praised be you! Blessed, praised, glorified, honored, and established be the great, exalted, praised God, the high King of Light, the God of truth, whose power is boundless and without end. The pure radiance and the great light that does not pass away. The compassionate, merciful, gracious, benevolent one, the redeemer of all the faithful, the establisher of all the good. The mighty, wise one, the knower, the seer, the discerner, the sovereign over every thing. The Lord of all worlds of light, the upper, the middle, and the lower. The great face of glory, invisible, unbounded, without companion in the crown, without partner in the dominion. Whoever trusts in him does not come to shame; whoever praises his name in sincerity does not fall; whoever stands in trust in him is not brought low.

The great Lord of all kings; nothing existed when he did not exist, nothing is when he is not. No death has been created for him, no perishing exists for him. His light shines and his radiance streams over all beings and kings who stand before him and shine in their radiance and in the great light that rests upon them.

He bestowed upon them prayer and praise, which were laid in their hearts, who stand in clouds of light. They worship, praise, and humbly confess the Lord of Greatness, the high King of Light, for whose radiance, light, and glory there is no measure, no number, no limit — who is all radiance, all light, all brightness, all life, all faithfulness, all love, all compassion, all forbearance, all eyes, all faces, all praised countenances of beauty, who is all understanding, knowledge, and revelation, all names of glory.

The great, exalted God, whose power no one has measured, no one has bounded; no one comprehends his power and the power of all his worlds.

He is the high King of Light, blessed with all blessings from the beginning to all eternity, the First from all primordial beginning, the creator of all forms, the fashioner of beautiful things, who in his wisdom is preserved, hidden, and not revealed.

He is the high King of Light, the Lord of all worlds of light, the Exalted above all uthras, the God above all, the King of kings, the great Lord above all kings. A radiance that does not change, a light that does not set, beauty, radiance, and glory that are not held in contempt. Life, a life beyond life; radiance, a radiance beyond radiance; light, a light beyond light — in him there is neither lack nor defect.

He is the Light in whom there is no darkness, the Living One in whom there is no death, the Good One in whom there is no evil, the Gentle One in whom there is neither tumult nor wrath, the Mild One in whom there is neither poison nor bitterness.

He sits in the high north, mighty, beautiful, and resplendent — the primal vessel of all luminous beings, the Father of all Uthras.

He blesses all beings; he rests upon all who are perfect, truthful, and faithful, in whose mouths his name is established.

The King in the City of Life, who dwells in the abodes of kingship. He is eternal; his radiance rises up and gives light; he is without end, measure, or number.

He rejoices with a joy that knows no sorrow, and his entire kingdom rejoices with him. He is a beautiful image, an adornment and a splendor, so that there is no beauty that can be compared to him.

He is the Truth that dwells in the heights above, the Lord of Greatness, the Lord of all great things. No one is able to define and describe his power, nor that of all his worlds, nor his Skinas in which he dwells, nor the Uthras and kings who dwell within them.

That high King of Light sits secure in his dwelling. He is higher above all beings as the earth is above its inhabitants. He surpasses all as the sky surpasses the mountains. He shines more than all as the sun shines more than lamps. He is brighter than all as the moon is brighter than the stars.

He is possessed of qualities in which there is no defect. Great crowns are set upon him, so that his power and greatness are without limit. He is bounded by neither number nor reckoning.

The sparks of his crown fly out to every place. Rays of radiance, light, and glory go forth from his countenance and from between the leaves of his wreath. All the Uthras and kings, indeed all the worlds, stand in prayer and praise and glorify that high King of Light.

From him there go forth five mighty, great qualities. The first is his light, which rises over them. The second is his fragrance, which wafts over them. The third is the sweetness of his voice, through which they rejoice. The fourth is the word of his mouth, through which he creates and begets them. The fifth is the beauty of his form, through which they grow great like fruits in the sun.

All the uthras opened their mouths; they praise that high King of Light and speak to him: Who shall praise you, who glorify you, who bless you, who honor you, who establish you? If we are to praise you with your praise, your praise is without limit. If we are to bless you with your blessing, your blessing is vast and endless. If we are to exalt you according to your sublimity, your sublimity is immeasurable. If we are to praise you according to your depth, your depth is unfathomable. If we are to speak of your power, your radiance, and your light, your radiance is too vast to speak of in words, your light too abundant and great to tell of and recount in speech.

The blessing, the grace, and the majesty of the high king of light blossom forth, come out, and cannot be bounded. No one can comprehend them or understand them, except the Life that is with you, and the uthras and messengers who stand before you. All beings do not know your name. The kings stand and speak to one another: "What name does the great light bear?" They say: "There is no name like his name; there is none who calls it by name, none who grasps his designation."

Blessed are the perfect ones who knew you with a pure heart, who remembered you in a truthful mind and believed in you with a whole conscience, who blessed you with a mouth that is all praise, who glorified you with an upright tongue, who confessed you with faithful lips and said: One is the king of light in his kingdom; there is none greater than he, none who wages war against him. There is none who could compare with his form, none who could raise his eyes to behold the crown upon the head of that high king of light without his own crown falling from his head.

A high mountain is he, whom the storms of the air do not shake.

He is clothed in new garments of splendor that are not of the garments of this world. No woman has ever said: Let us make a garment for the lord of crowns. Neither do the children of the peoples have the power to fashion for him the mantle that lies about his shoulders. The garment he wears is not worn out, and neither moth nor decay comes into his mantle.

The sun does not set before him; the luminaries of his city do not go out. The crowns upon his head do not wither, and the leaves of his wreath do not fall, those that project over his face. Fragrance pours forth from between the leaves of the wreath that lies over his face. All the uthras are enveloped in that fragrance and rejoice.

Praised, exalted, and mighty is he above all gods; at the beginning of all ages he was, the king from the very first. His name is not bounded in our mouths, his designation not bounded between our lips. He is the judge of his place, in whose mouth there is no falsehood.

Firmly established is the throne of the Great and Exalted One, so that it shall not be moved from its place for all eternity. No bodily carpenters have secured the throne that stands beneath him, no builders of clay have built the houses of his dwelling. He is King from the very beginning, whose kingdom endures for eternity and does not pass away.

His hip never trembled in fear; the dread and terror of the children of darkness does not reach him. He has never stood on a day of horror, and the hour of wrath and trembling does not come upon him.

The King of Light is crowned and established as King for eternity; his kingdom knows no passing away. A King, praised and honored in his city, which mighty walls of diamond surround — King of the Great Ones, rich in uthras, abundantly rich in messengers, greater than all kings of every place. He rejoices, his city rejoices, his entire kingdom rejoices with him.

He has no father who is older than he, no firstborn who was before him. He has no brother who shared his portion with him, no twin brother who shared with him in common. He has not mingled and not divided, and there is no division in his city.

Before him they offer no blood sacrifice, they eat no flesh, they drink no wine of desire, and they sing before him no song of wickedness.

The garment with which he is clothed does not grow black, the crowns upon his head do not wither, and the leaves of his wreath do not fall.

No sound of lamentation for the dead is in his place, no childlessness among the children of men. No corpse passes before him, his dwelling is not defiled by a dead body.

He has fought no bitter battle, he did not stand there on the day of horror.

The King rejoices in the children of light. He calls one, and a thousand answer him. By his word he creates uthras; by the speech of his mouth he causes perfected ones to arise.

King of all uthras and skmas, great crown upon the head of the height of heaven — you who are gentle and who subdue the mighty, you who are power pressing upon all the rebellious — blessed and praised are you from every time and season to eternity.

Your own power is greater than that of all the kings of the place of darkness. You dwell in a place that is bright and radiant, and beautiful and exalted is that land in which you dwell.

Blessed are you in the dwelling of the good ones, established in the place that is wholly blessing. You rejoice in it, and your heart exults over all who dwell with you.

You have existed since the first day and endure into all eternity.

He spoke with great power and mighty speech, and there arose kings of light from pure radiance and great light that does not pass away. Kings of praise came forth, arose, and were called into life, for whom there is no end, no number, and no passing away. They are all full of praise and stand there praising that high King of Light, whose radiance is too great to be described by a mouth of flesh and blood, and whose light is too great to be uttered by lips. His radiance shines and his light illumines all worlds. Bright and luminous is the firmament in which they dwell.

The world in which he stands is without decay: a world of radiance and light without darkness, a world of gentleness without rebellion, a world of righteousness without confusion and turmoil, a world of sweet fragrances without foul odor, a world of life in eternity without decay and death, a world of living water over whose fragrance the kings rejoice, a world of goodness without evil, a world of faithfulness and trust without falsehood and deceit. It is a pure world without corrupt mixture.

The angels of radiance praise that high king of light in the radiance and the light that he has bestowed upon them. The angels of radiance praise him in the garments of radiance that he has bestowed upon them. The angels of radiance praise him in the mantles of light that he has bestowed upon them. The angels of radiance praise him in the girdles of radiance that he has bestowed upon them. The angels of radiance praise him in the crowns of radiance that he has set upon them. The angels of radiance praise him with the strength and steadfastness that he has bestowed upon them. The angels of radiance praise him with the faithfulness, the fellowship, and the trust that he has bestowed upon them.

They are all gentle, wise, and gracious, without evil, falsehood, or deceit.

They are clothed in garments of radiance and covered with mantles of light. They sit and dwell beside one another without transgressing or sinning against one another. They are glorious upon their firmaments and fitted to one another as the eyelash to the eye.

Their inmost being is open to one another; they know the first and the last. A thousand times a thousand miles they are distant from one another, and yet one shines through another's radiance and one is fragrant through another's sweet scent. They pledge brotherhood with one another and reveal their inmost being to one another.

They are removed from every kind of death, and death's destruction is not created for them. There is no decay for them; they do not grow old, their strength does not diminish, and they are not clothed in pain and infirmity.

Their garment does not grow dark, their mantle does not grow dim. Their crowns do not wither and do not fall apart, and the leaves do not drop from them.

They grow in all growth, they live and stand firm in their place. They do not waver and are not shaken. Among them there is no elder grown old, no stillborn child that has come forth from the womb.

In their city there is no judgment, and they do not judge one another.

They neither hunger nor thirst, and heat and cold, malice and wrath are not among them.

They wage no war with one another and do not fall into captivity.

No wild beast treads upon their earth, and no evil creature comes forth from it.

No withered leaf is on their trees, no bitterness in the fruits of their dwellings. Their fruits do not wither and do not dry up, and the leaves of the trees do not fall. Moth and dust do not fall upon their places, and for their dwellings there is no decay.

Raging rulers without mercy have no dominion over them. Wrathful tyrants without compassion do not exist in their dwellings.

Their firmaments are lofty and high, and their buildings are houses of the seat of perfection. Their seas are calm and gentle, and there is no passage through them. The Jordans of the worlds of light are full of white water, whiter than milk, cold and sweet, and their fragrance is more strengthening than the great spiced vines.

The uthras and kings who drink from them do not taste the flavor of death; they have no evil, troubled, or harsh day, and no sorrow is in their soul.

For their years there is no number, for their whole life no measure. They are all cheerful and resplendent in joy without affliction. They move with light steps and float above that white earth of the ether. Into the radiance that has risen over them no darkness is mingled.

Those beings of light are divided into many kinds. They are apportioned into earths, skinas, Jordans, trees, uthras, and angels, as well as into the radiance, light, and brightness that rest upon them. Yet there is no boundary between one and another.

Luminous and bright is their form. The sight of their countenance is gleaming and clear like pure beryl. Day by day, strength and voice, speech and victory are created by the King of all worlds of light and sent to them.

They all stand in prayer and praise, in wondrous orders and hymns, and render submission to the high King of Light and praise him. And those angels, who are from the King their Lord, send forth fragrance from their midst, and all sweet scents of joy — not the scent of idols and not the scent of all the Astartes.

All rejoice over one another, as rain clouds bring delight to the trees and seeds of the earth. They are tokens of beauty, of fair appearance, of lovely form, and of adornment. One is more wondrous than another, one more radiant than another.

The name of the high King of Light is blessed and praised for all eternity.

The uthras, angels, messengers, manifestations, forms, earths, skinas, fortresses, buildings, Jordans, and trees, as well as the radiance that rests upon them, were created by the King of Light.

Uthras and kings were called forth by the King of Light; Jordans and trees were created for them from the earth; garments, coverings, and crowns were fashioned for them from radiance and light; and there is not one among them in whom there is fault or lack.

That place is a place of life, of truth, of rest, of security, of peace, and of faith, upon which everyone sets their hope and upon which they build their trust.

The King rejoices in the sons of light, and they are proud of him. Their buildings and skinas are built of radiance and light, their walls of security and firmness.

Their radiance is more wondrous than the radiance of the sun and the moon. Their brightness is brighter than the brightness of this world. In the radiance of this world there is mixture, but the radiance of that world is brightness without turbidity. To be sure, the radiance of this world is created after the image of that radiance, yet as small shells and pebbles are to pearls.

Their earth rests on no anvil, their firmament does not turn by wheels, the seven stars do not wander above them, the Five and the Twelve do not govern their fate.

No dust lies on their path, no mud is found in their Jordans.

Swift are they in their movement, like the thought of a person who does not travel on foot and yet reaches any place within an hour. Light and calm is their movement, as the rays of the sun appear to the eyes of the children of Adam — the rays that reach from heaven to earth.

They do not sin and do not transgress against one another, like the radiance of the sun and the wind, like the fire and the water of this world.

Their food comes from the blessing of the Jordans, of fruits and trees.

There is no end and no limit to their virtues, and we are not able to speak of their power. As one has said: Shall the stinking body praise you, or the vain tongue? Were our mouth like the sea, our tongue like the jagged rocks within it, our lips like its two shores, we could still not, my Lord, describe your power over all your worlds in its fullness. No, there is no one who could describe your power in its fullness.

Blessed is he who has known you; blessed is he who speaks of you in knowledge.

Blessed is he who has been enlightened concerning you; blessed is he who spreads enlightenment concerning you.

Blessed is he who has truly learned of you; blessed is he who teaches of you.

Blessed is he who has learned your wisdom and freed himself from the error and confusion of this world.

Blessed are the truthful and faithful perfect ones who have known and beheld you; they ascend in victory and behold the place of light.

Blessed and praised be you, my Lord, you high king of light, from this day to all eternity.

Through your word every thing came into being.

From that Lord of Greatness an uthra was created and sent forth, whose name is Hibil-Ziwä, who is called Gabriel, the messenger.

When the high king of light willed it, he called me forth from the radiance and the light in which he stands, from that Skina which he, the Great One, founded at his right hand, and spoke to him: "Arise, go to the world of darkness, which is filled entirely with wickedness. It is filled entirely with wickedness, filled with consuming fire. Go to the world that is full of lies and deceit, that is sown with thistles and thorns. Go to the world of confusion and tumult without stability, to the world of darkness without light, to the world of stench without fragrance, to the world of persecution and death without life in eternity, to the world in which good things perish and plans are not fulfilled."

He spoke to him: "Go, tread down the darkness and the mysteries that were formed from it. Compact the earth, stretch out the firmament, and form stars within it. Give radiance to the sun, brightness to the moon, and shimmer to all the stars. Give good taste to the water and radiance to the fire.

Create fruits, grapes, and trees that flourish in the world. Cattle shall come into being, fish and fowl, of every kind a male and a female, to serve Adam and all his generations.

Man and woman shall come into being, and their names shall be Adam and Hawwä. Some of the angels of fire shall be made subject to Adam. Every one who departs from your word shall be shut up in the blazing fire. Three angels of radiance and light shall come into being and keep Adam company.

Let living water come and mingle with the turbid water. Through the fragrance of the living water let the whole world be resplendent. The four winds of the house shall be created, as well as the air that blows over them. Let fire arise and spread over all the world. That world shall shine through your hand."

The high king of light spoke the word, and thereupon every thing came into being through his word.

Gabriel, the messenger, came, lifted the heaven on high and stretched it out, sealed the earth Tibil and established it firmly, and the whole world through the power of the high king of light.

Adam the man and Hawwä his wife were formed, and the soul fell into the body. When the soul had fallen into the body, they comprehended and understood every thing.

The angels of fire came and submitted themselves to Adam. They came and bowed before him and did not deviate from his word. Only he alone, the Evil One, from whom evil was formed, deviated from the word of his Lord. Then his Lord bound him with a fetter.

Me, the pure messenger, my Lord called and commissioned, and spoke: "Go, call out a voice to Adam, to his wife Hawwä, and to all his kindred. Call out a sublime voice to them and instruct them concerning every thing. Instruct them concerning the high king of light, whose power is far-reaching and great, without limit and without number. Instruct them concerning the worlds of light, the imperishable.

Speak with him, that his heart may be enlightened, and instruct him, that his mind may be enlightened. Show yourself gracious to him and keep him company, you and the two angels who are with you. Teach knowledge to Adam, to Hawwä his wife, and to all his kindred. Tell them that the evil ones and Satan, the worthless one, shall not lead them astray.

Teach them prayer and praise, so that they may step forward and glorify the Lord of all worlds: three times by day and two times by night.

Tell them: Take a wife and establish a tribe, so that the world may multiply from you.

When you draw near to your wives, wash yourselves with water and keep yourselves pure.

Do not commit fornication, and do not steal, and do not kill any children of men.

O you perfect ones and faithful! Do not deviate from your word, and do not love falsehood and deceit. Do not love gold and silver and the possessions of this world. For this world ceases and passes away, and its possessions and its works are abandoned.

Do not worship Satan, the idols, the images, the error and confusion of this world. For whoever worships Satan falls into the blazing fire, until the day of judgment, until the hour, the hours of redemption, for as long as the high king of light wills it, who judges all beings. He judges the souls, every person according to the works of his hands.

Do not learn Satan's sorcery and do not bear false witness. When you pronounce judgment, hold to straight justice and do not twist it. When witnesses are called, let them be truthful people who testify. Every one who perverts justice is consumed by the blazing fire.

Do not deliver righteous servants into the hands of their evil masters, and do not abandon the weak to the strong.

Honor father and mother, and the elder brothers as the father. A son who despises father and mother will be condemned on the day of judgment.

Do not look with greed and desire upon anything that is not yours. If your Lord grants it to you, receive it with gratitude, but do not contend for it in a sinful manner. For according to the will of your Lord, every thing was assigned and granted to you in goodness.

When misfortune comes upon you, endure it and remain steadfast in your faith. Change nothing and twist nothing in your speech. Do not bend your knee and do not bow your head and do not pay homage to the Satan who is to be stoned, who sinks down.

Keep away from everyone who worships the evil ones, the idols, and the images. Be no friend to him. Yet if you feel drawn to him and love him, then let him hear the scriptures and discourses and the praise that your Lord has granted you. If he heeds it, becomes faithful, and bears witness to the high King of Light, the God who came into being of himself, then love him, draw him near to you, and show him good from all that you possess. If he does not heed it, bears no witness, and does not become faithful, then he will be called to account for his own sins.

If you see a prisoner who is faithful and truthful, give ransom and redeem him. But it is not with gold and silver alone that the soul is redeemed — rather, with truthfulness and faith and the pure speech of the mouth the soul is redeemed: from darkness to light, from error to truth, from faithlessness and rebellion to prayer and praise, from unbelief to belief in your Lord. Whoever releases a soul is worth to me generations and worlds.

To you I say, my chosen ones, to you I teach, my faithful: give alms to the poor and be a guide to the blind. When you give alms, my chosen ones, do not proclaim it. If you proclaim it once, do not repeat it. If you give with your right hand, do not tell your left hand. If you give with your left hand, do not tell your right hand. To everyone who gives alms and proclaims it, his reward is taken from him and he receives nothing for it in the world of light.

Whoever gives alms and does much good, but then abandons almsgiving and gives no more, falls into the blazing fire, until his sins are ended and all his transgressions are wiped away.

My chosen ones! If you see someone who hungers, satisfy him. If you see someone who thirsts, give him to drink. If you see a naked person, lay garments and coverings around his neck. For everyone who gives receives, and everyone who lends receives payment. To everyone who gives alms, the great alms will be a support. Whoever clothes the naked with garments — garments and coverings will be laid around his neck. Whoever releases a prisoner — a messenger of Life will go out to meet him.