Gerald Massey was a minor British poet and a major expert on Egyptology. He believed that the model for the Christian Jesus was the Egyptian god, Horus. Prior to our trip to Egypt in February, 2009, I had read much about this idea. I am still convinced that Massey, Alfred Boyd Kuhn, Albert Schweitzer and many recent thinkers had/have got it right.
Massey, through years of intelligent, thorough and selfless research, concluded that our ancient, prehistoric ancestors in Africa were the source of all human mythology. It is a small step for me to extrapolate from that insight to the conclusion that humans are genetically programmed, through the constant interchange of historical experiences with the successful mutations in our DNA, to worship.
From the Explanatory of Gerald Massey’s great book The Natural Genesis, published in 1883:
The main thesis of my work includes the Kamite (Massey’s term for African – ed.) origin of the pre-Aryan matter extant in language and mythology found in the British Isles,—the origin of the Hebrew and Christian theology in the mythology of Egypt—the unity of origin for all mythology, as demonstrated by a worldwide comparison of the great primary types, and the Kamite origin of that unity—the common origin of the mythical genetrix and her brood of seven elementary forces, found in Egypt, Akkad, India, Britain, and New Zealand, who became kronotypes in their secondary, and spirits or gods in their final psychotheistic phase—the Egyptian genesis of the chief celestial signs, zodiacal and extra-zodiacal—the origin of all mythology in the Kamite typology—the origin of typology in gesture-signs—and the origin of language in African onomatopoeia.
Massey’s Dedicatory poem to his book, The Natural Genesis:
At times I had to tread
Where not a Star was found
To lead or light me, overhead;
Nor footprint on the ground.
I toiled among the sands
And stumbled with my feet;
Or crawled and climbed with knees and hands
Some future path to beat.
I had to feel the flow
Of waters whelming me:
No foothold to be touched below,
No shore around to see.
Yet, in my darkest night,
And farthest drift from land,
There dawned within the guiding light;
I felt the unseen hand.
Year after year went by,
And watchers wondered when
The diver, to their welcoming cry
Of joy, would rise again.
And still rolled on Time’s wave
That whitened as it passed:
The ground is getting toward the grave
That I have reached at last.
Child after child would say—
‘Ah, when his work is done,
Father will come with us and play—‘
‘Tis done. But Play-time’s gone.
A willing slave for years,
I strove to set men free;
Mine were the Labours, Hopes, and Fears,
Be theirs the Victory.
This modified quotation from Goete’s Faust is also at the beginning of this book:
The few who had the courage to call the child by its right name, the few that knew something of it, who foolishly opened their hearts and revealed their vision to the many, were always burnt or crucified.