The Meeting of the White and Black Angels

Here’s an inspiring parable offered by a female Russian seer.

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“Two Angels were moving towards each other. And, notwithstanding that they had set out from the opposite parts of the world, the direction they were heading in meant that their paths must cross. The White Angel was apparelled in shining garments woven from stellar light — garments blazing like the Sun — and wherever the foot of the Angel trod, their ineffaceable trace would remain and a spring would break through, pouring forth luminous streams into the world. The Angel coming towards him, by contrast, was Black, and his garments were as though woven from the fibres of impenetrable darkness. And why they were walking towards each other, only Heaven knows.

Indeed, the closer they got to the point where the two roads intersected, a number of things started happening which seemed weird at first glance. The garments of the White Angel seemed to be losing their original blinding brilliance, and with each step his strength was melting, left behind in the spheres he had already passed through. And now the dust of roadside fields began to leave its deposit, covering with a dense layer his luminous wings which hung heavily behind his back. Now the surrounding spheres started to fade in the twilight, for none other than the Angel himself had a source of fire capable of illumining them. But the garments became heavier and heavier — now they were already covered with a dense crust. 

Yet how could it be otherwise? After all, he was encountering dust, dirt, and impassable swamps along the way, and the White Angel could not pass around them, once he had chosen as his purpose to pave the shortest paths for ascending the rungs of his divine spirit. And now the goal is within reach: he is coming closer to here, to the point of the lowest descent. Here he must leave his luminous load so as to illumine the spheres of the “supreme” coagulation of darkness. But where is it and how can he see it, if it is dark all around and he himself has almost merged with the impenetrable spheres, composed of the countless abysses of Chaoses? And each succeeding step threatens to be the last.

In no way did the quiet footfall of the Black Angel disturb the deathly silence of the realms immersed in gloom. He was not afraid to stumble, for he was already aware of all the traps that had been placed along the way. For a long time, the Black Angel had lived amidst the depths of the Chaoses, where his comprehension of the world of forms around him was not unlike that of a blind man. And the great number of falls he had experienced only served to teach him alertness, developing a hitherto unknown talent within his breast. 

So, the endless blows of fate ignited a whole host of sparks, allowing him to perceive accurate images all along the path of his advancement. Now a yearning for light arose within, compelling him to take swifter steps in his search for the source of the everlasting Fires. Yet was it not his heart-rending call that plumbed the depths of the abysses, all the way to the Light-bearing Spheres? And was it not the sensitive ear of the One Creator that had caught the whole pain of despair that had gone into this call? Perhaps it was He who had sent His Beloved White Angel on a long journey, specifically to bring the Cup of Fire for the soul thirsting for the Light? 

At this point the two Angels met. However, at the hour of their destined meeting both their garments were black. And there was nothing to illumine their way, for one of them, after magnanimously sharing his Fires with the spheres he had passed in the darkness, had only a tiny spark of life remaining in his sun-bearing breast. The other Angel had never known the greater light, but merely its momentary flashes, along with the anguish which had lain in his breast as a thirst for Fires, clenched in the jaws of darkness. 

How can one find the right path and lead along the trail of Light someone who has been blindly wandering in the darkness in search of the sun-bearing ways? And the White Angel decided to share his spark of life with the Black Angel so that the latter would be able to perceive the touch of Divine Fires, and thus fulfil the Behest of the Father of Eternity. So what did it mean that he himself, having lost the spark of life, would now merge with the surrounding darkness?! After all, the Black Angel had now found the path of salvation, which means the White Angel will find it, too, through sacredly preserving the memory of the Light-bearing Spheres. 

And, having decisively opened wide his breast, the White Angel breathed his spark of life into the breast of the one whom he had been called to save. All at once everything around was bathed in light — a miracle of transfiguration came about, and the Black Angel began to shine in snow-white garments. But at the same time he understood that, following the example of the White Angel, he must now bring back the life-bearing fires and generously share them with the surrounding spheres. And, descending into the depths of unknown abysses, he was to share his last spark of life with one who, perhaps, was uttering a heart-rending cry muted in the depths of Chaoses. So, their ways parted, after being united only for a few moments at a single point in the Universe. 

And what about the White Angel? Will he die without the spark of life? Of course not! He will acquire a new quality, one hitherto unknown. Thus, those who give their own life for another will themselves become immortal, for the Creator of Eternity clothes them in new apparel, hidden in which is the quality of self-regenerating fibres. But of course the White Angel had no idea of this at the moment when he offered the Great Sacrifice, thereby making an act of great refraction of the Divine Fires. Thus, the spark of his life continues the path, submerging deeper and deeper, until the Spirit of Transfiguration in Light touches all the Black Angels and they, like he, after parting with their sparks of life, begin to retrace the path of the White Angel’s footsteps, who has endowed them all with life amidst Light.

So let us not blindly judge those whom we encounter on our way, no matter how black their garments may be.  Let us remember that, perhaps, having concealed a small spark of life in their breasts, they are now winding their way into the depth of Chaoses, “falling” precisely into those abysses where they are destined to descend as a Saviour. And they will follow the path of the White Angel until all the spheres are suffused with Light.  There they will live and create, clothed in stellar apparel — those who have risen from the abysses of Chaoses, having changed their black apparel to snow-white garments woven by eternal stars.

Let it be so!”

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Parables from Shamballa:

The Wisdom of the East for Everyday Life