The first half of this two part book tells the story of an ordinary boy enriched by his mother's faith yet torn apart by a bitter divorce. Maintaining his religious underpinnings, Mark struggles through the divorce and graduates from college with a degree in finance. This takes him to the Chicago Mercantile Exchange where he makes millions of dollars, marries his wife and retires at the age of 36. Shortly after, Mark received a Master's degree in Theology setting the foundation for the remainder of his life. The first half of the book ends with the death his forth child, Kevin, which becomes the catalyst for a tremendous spiritual conversion.
The second half of the book walks the reader through that conversion documenting the steps taken to accomplish it. A discussion of physics is used to set up a foundation for further explanations in theology. This discussion results in a need to re-evaluate the meaning of Mark 8:29 when Jesus asks: "Who do you say that I am?" The result is a shift from orthodox religion to a focus on Sophian Gnosticism. Time is spent focusing on Kabbalah and The Tree of Life, and on a special sign Mark created called the "Sign of the Tree." Kabbalistic teachings on reincarnation and suffering are explored. Mark applies these teachings to his life by leaving the material world behind, going to work at a homeless shelter, and becoming a hospice volunteer.
My Eye: A Vision of Christ
The Gnostic Christian Autobiography of Mark WonserBy Mark Wonser AuthorHouse
Copyright © 2011 Mark Wonser
All right reserved.ISBN: 978-1-4634-1923-3Contents
Chapter 1...................................1Chapter 2...................................11Chapter 3...................................23Chapter 4...................................35Chapter 5...................................51Chapter 6...................................67Chapter 7...................................77Chapter 8...................................89Chapter 9...................................103Chapter 10..................................117Chapter 11..................................125Chapter 12..................................137Chapter 13..................................149Chapter 14..................................161Chapter 15..................................177Chapter 16..................................191Chapter 17..................................201Chapter 18..................................217Sources and Suggestions.....................223
Chapter One
Good Stock
I was born of good stock. My oldest traceable ancestor, Jan Jansen Wanshaer, reached New Amsterdam in about the year 1642. His last name, like many other names of the era, was changed several times over the years owing mostly to the lack of reading and writing skills of the people the name was given to. My name, Wonser, and any other spelling with this pronunciation, is a derivative of Wanshaer.
Jan Jansen was admitted to the rights of a burger (American citizen) on April 18, 1657, and was a respected citizen of the city. He lived on Brouwer Street, also called Brewers street, because of the two breweries that were on it, which is now that part of Stone Street between Broad and Whitehall streets. It was the first street to be paved with stone and was one of the first streets built upon. After being paved it became known as Stone Street and it was the broadway of the town. Jan Jansen was one of the first 204 residents of New Amsterdam, now New York City.
In his book, The Wanzer Family in America, William D. Wanzer, born 1855, comments on the city at that time:
The appearance of New Amsterdam, or New York City, when Jan Jansen Wanshaer arrived in 1642 was striking. There were about 150 houses, and these were mostly of wood covered with reed roofs. The currency in general was composed of Indian money called wampum, or seawant, and the skins of animals, principally beaver. Seawant consisted of small perforated shells, black and white, either loose or strung like beads on a string. In 1650 it was ordered that six white or three black seawants were equal to one stuyver (a Dutch silver piece). The brace—strung seawant—eight white or four black for one stuyver. In spite of these government orders, seawant depreciated in value, so that in 1659 sixteen guilders in seawant, at the stated value, were required to exchange for one beaver skin of eight guilders in value. Beaver skins were valued at about eight guilders, or three dollars each, or when cut in half, their value was lessened.
According to Wanzer, Jan's business was that of a sea merchant, and he is recorded as the first naval officer of America, appointed by Governor Peter Stuyvesant to protect the city.
Getting Started
The Gateway district of Portland, Oregon is middle class white America. Most of the houses in the neighborhood were built in the `50s, as were most of the houses for miles in every direction. I was the oldest of four children born to Mary and Dave Wonser in January, 1953. My brother Matt was born in 1954, Dona in 1955, and Dann in 1957. I also have a half brother Mike, born in 1966 to my mother and Vince Fitzgerald.
My mother was a deeply devoted Catholic while my father cared little about church or religion. Dad was the foreman at a machine shop in north Portland that manufactured farm irrigation equipment and I remember hearing once as a youngster that he made about $20 day in wages. The only job I ever remember my mother having was that of a local newspaper reporter where she became known as Merry Mary for her upbeat style of reporting. Her wages were needed but did not have a significant impact on our living style. I bring this up because even at this meager level of income for the family, my mother was able to somehow convince my dad to send us all to a private Catholic school. Little did I know at the time how much this decision would affect the rest of my life.
Grade School
Getting to and from school was no easy task since we lived three miles away and the school did not offer bussing. The city bus did not go in that direction. The cars the family owned did not make the job any easier. I remember mom driving us to school one time in a German car called a Borgward up a semi-steep hill named Yamhill Street next to school. I thought my brothers and sister and I were all going to have to get out and push the car up the last foot of the hill. Near the top, we were all doing the `to and fro' motion trying to gain that last foot of pavement to reach the summit. We also owned several Studebakers, including a 1957 wagon and a 1960 Lark wagon. Studebakers, for whatever reason, seemed to be Dad's favorite.
By the time we were in about the fifth grade, my brother Matt and I began riding our bikes the three miles to school everyday. I don't remember why since Dona and Dann where still too young to ride, and I never remember riding with them even when I was in the eighth grade. Mom probably still had to get Dona and Dann to school by car.
Attending Ascension Catholic School brought about an early focus in my life on Religion. I started first grade in 1960, and shortly after became an altar boy with my brother Matt for Ascension parish. As altar boys, we were asked to assist the priest with hand washing, bringing wine to the altar, ringing bells at the appropriate times, and reciting prayers in Latin during mass. Mass was at 8 a.m. every morning, and was followed immediately by the start of school. Sometimes we were also called to serve at the convent of cloistered nuns just down the street. When this happened, we had to get up extra early since mass started at 6:30 a.m. On those days we had to leave home on our bikes about 6 a.m. There were always a few folks in the main body of the church at the early mass in the convent, but most of the people attending were nuns who participated from a side room that was veiled like rooms sometimes used by immediate family members at funeral homes. We could not see in the side room, and they could not see out. The only time we, or anybody else, ever saw those nuns was at communion when we were asked to hold a tray to their throat to catch any particles that might fall off of the host. During communion, they would come one at a time to a side window to receive the host. While the priest put the host on their tongue, we held the tray underneath. Once the nuns went into that cloistered convent, they were rarely seen again. There was a fenced graveyard in the backyard.
Religious Life
We carried on our religious life at home as well. The four of us kids would set up an altar in the kitchen and pretend to say mass. I always insisted on being the priest since I was the oldest. Sometimes this resulted in a few objections, but I usually got my way. The mass was complete with bread and whatever we could find to drink. I also gave many Latin blessings to my siblings and the world around me. I remember...
