The Secret Church
There once was a church that was a secret. The secrecy was sacred to them. Anyone could learn about it, but you had to do it this way. You had to go to a certain place, a hidden alcove in a wall, and there you would be taught a truth and be given instructions for the next location to go to. They would give you a token–the first one was a lumpy black polished stone turtle about the size of a chocolate. If you wanted to know more, you would then go to the next location, present your token, and learn the next step. Eventually you would have to make commitments and join. If you see some of your neighbors slinking along a back alley on a Sunday morning and then fugitively disappearing into an apparently abandoned warehouse, you might suspect what church they belong to.
Of course any large organization has to have some flexibility built in, so there are other methods for the church to get people to come in on some of their secrets. There was a young man who was not a member of the church but had done some important work for the leadership and knew them and a lot of their affairs–in confidence of course. They complained to him that there was a church that was even more secret. This even-more-secret church was out in the open and its doctrines were all openly taught and its rituals conducted in public, but all these had a hidden truer inner meaning that no one was ever explained, if you belonged you just figured it out in a moment of illumination. The first secret church was desperate to figure out which of the many open churches around them was secretly the second even-more-secret church but so far they hadn’t been able to.
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This came to me a in a waking dream.