Is Iniquity Sin?
Iniquity nwwo. Is it a synonym for “sin," in the darker sense of that word’s Hebrew connotations? Or if its meaning isn’t so arresting as “intentional disobedience,” does it convey the less guilt-ridden understanding of sin as “error, transgression?” It’s a question of no small importance because, without exception, the soul that sins shall die.
As a generalization, the connotations of sin cover a broad range of errors, from simple mistakes to instances of gross malfeasance. When rendered into English, the Hebrew word for sin afj, has greater clarity in common usage than does the Hebrew root for iniquity nwo. The explanation for this visceral effect is that the concept of iniquity touches upon and cannot avoid or rise above the mystery of Lucifer, the fallen angel.
Most will admit to a negative reaction to “iniquity,” but the word’s actual meanings are unclear. Even though mention of iniquity might send chills along the spine when it’s raised in conversation, not many are troubled enough by their reactions to resolve their concern about its implications.
The opening illustration presents definitions of the Hebrew word for “sin,” as it appears in Torah’s original language. Without providing reason to deny etymology, the meme suggests the rich subtexts that emerge as readers investigate texts as written in the “Moses Script,” the alphabet also known as Sinaitic Hebrew.
The bones of all Western alphabets, Torah’s emblems were in use as the common language in Pharaoh’s Egypt at the Exodus. They survived as the literal language of Y'SharAL beyond the reign of King David, unto the rise of the Ezra script. Never wholly forgotten, they are still in use today in isolated villages of rural Yemen.
At his death, David was gathered to his fathers, among whom he remains; and the spiritual kingdom he once led awaits restoration. His kingdom, the Kingdom of Heaven—of Names—is the state of being in which blameless intention blossoms as reality.
God’s Kingdom is the reality behind mythical Camelot; and HaShem is calling upon a new generation to rebuild David’s Tabernacle: not his buildings, but the ambiance of his world view. Whether or not we are privileged to share in that restoration, we ought to have interest in how David saw his world and, also, in how he approached the scriptures upon 1which his world was founded.
The shepherd king of Yerushaliem read the Lively Oracles as written in an alefbet whose twenty-two letters were ciphers derived from the grid of the pattern mandated on Sinai. That pattern, from which Moses was not permitted to deviate, is the sigil of the Logos of which John Baptist testified.
The root of language and mathematics, the divine pattern that came to be known as “the Word” springs from the purity of the father’s heart. Projected by the eternal father, that purity was shed abroad upon the children of men.
If the father’s sacrifice is received and lifted up in the hearts of believers, it redeems the reins of intellectual calculation; and the mind escapes carnal speculations through spiritual revelations, which determine the cant and the pace of ambivalent thoughts as they are brought into alignment with the mind that was in Y’shua, the anointed servant of Yahushua.
Spells of approximation
are
cast upon
Torah’s
now
when
the
word is
voiced
as
the
English
“in-nick-quit-tea.”
When
thoughts
are
conjured by
utterance of
phonemes,
languages
become
inherently
tribalistic.
Syntax be damned,
their words, like
the
ancient
dust clouds
that arose
with
collapse of
Babylon’s
great
tower, the
arts of
speech
must
give
way to
cacophonies
of
confusion
when meanings are
determined by sound.
Language is a fruit of the Tree of Life, and the alphabets of mankind dress its branches with purpose. Passed from Eden to Ararat and from Babel to the Mediterranean in the days of Moses, the oracular language was adapted by traders based in what became modern Venice to conduct business; and, therefore, the alefbet of Adam became known as the Phoenician alefbet.
With the primacy of Egypt, the script’s oracular properties were eclipsed by the novelty of the hieroglyph, but its utilitarian properties were enhanced among the people, generally, by its usefulness for trade. Transactions were accomplished with reference to emblems in combination with gestures and brief exchanges of speech in closely related tongues.
Raised in this disorderly context by Pharaoh’s daughter, Moses was schooled in the arts of Egypt. He was a masterful adept of the alphanumeric emblems, which he would later be commanded to use in the compilation of Torah on behalf of the mixed multitude that accompanied Y’SharAL into the desert. That there was to be one law for all required that it should be written and understood in one language.
Because of our experience with modern languages, we tend to think of the alphanumeric script as though its integers are either letters or numbers, our minds putting the difference between them. In truth, however, the two functions of oracular emblems operate simultaneously, both within words and groups of words. HaShem speaks once; yes, twice, and man does not perceive the message.
Verbal and numerical expressions, the meanings of Torah’s words within a narrative are understood through the seamless interplay between their literary and mathematical properties. This complexity was the background of the deliberations between the Egyptian priesthood and Moshe and Aharon as the brothers petitioned Pharaoh and his court for the release of the people of HaShem hwhy.
When we reverse-engineer the biblical narrative, having restored the original script, we regain understanding. The priests of Egypt had rudimentary skills when using the alefbet of Adam, but those skills were dwarfed by the expertise of Moses and Aaron.
Aaron’s rod— his tongue— behaved like a serpent: it wove concepts with spiritual magic that swallowed up the limp phrases sliding off the tongues of Egyptian priests. The Hebrew brothers used Adam’s language to tap into new dimensions, unearthing new thoughts and extending horizons, whereas Egyptian usage buried thought in trappings of the past.
Sinaitic Hebrew is also known as Paleo, the name I’ll be using in this document, The difference between biblical Paleo and secular Phoenician is one of interpretation. The gospel teaching is, “If you had seen me” (invisible spirit, a gift of perception), “you had seen the father, also” (you would have comprehended the nature of your ability to perceive).
If we are blind to the world that appears, we see without error; for the faculties of sight are focused not on appearances, but on auras, by which we can trace contours within the invisible realm; but should we claim we see what is invisible, our mistake remains; for the fullness of the spiritual world is beyond seeing.
Egyptian magicians worked wonders with their serpentine tongues trained, rod-like, on issues pertaining to the material realm of Pharaoh. However, understandings drawn to earth by Aaron overwhelmed concepts born of their natural abilities.
We wrestle with bondage, the reward of sin. The precursor to our errors is iniquity; and because sin is essentially a state of being, iniquity’s inroads are subtle, patient, ubiquitous, persistent.
Iniquity is a miasma that crowds upon productive thought as doubt, and it debilitates and immobilizes by means of disheartening depression. The soul whose focus is centered in messiah, however, is able to countermand the pitfalls of iniquity by bringing the spiritual eye to bear on issues that underlie circumstance.
The remedy is guaranteed, but it isn’t simple; for the ditches exposed by iniquity were plowed by personal bias; and, having commandeered the intention to better oneself, iniquity takes root in concerns about election and piety, concepts that rank self in comparison with others.
Ambivalence added to doubt, the soul weighed down by piety elevates focus on personal standing above a focus on God. With that done, every seeming step forward stumbles backwards; for, desperate for justification, thought succumbs to zeal, which is mistaken for guidance by the holy spirit.
Doctrines that defy common sense are hammered by Goliaths of pulpits, synagogues, and mosques to trample the spiritual freedom that comes with direct experience. Whether they scold from their platforms or plead from their knees, they instill thoughts that cloud the mind; and we can no longer surrender to their leadership.
Tall King Shaul killed his thousands and found no peace at the head of his armies, nor even in his own house. If we are to do better, we must emulate David; and our questions must stir the golden dust clouds of Ophir rpo: our thought o must reflect p clarity r by tightening o debate p about what we think we know r. Opinions will not fill our slings against Goliath. Effective answer is hidden in stones unearthed from grounds we truly know.
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