2021/09/07

Perennial philosophy - Wikipedia

Perennial philosophy - Wikipedia

Perennial philosophy

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Perennialism has its roots in the Renaissance interest in neo-Platonism and its idea of the One, from which all existence emanatesMarsilio Ficino (1433–1499) sought to integrate Hermeticism with Greek and Jewish-Christian thought,[1] discerning a prisca theologia which could be found in all ages.[2] Giovanni Pico della Mirandola (1463–94) suggested that truth could be found in many, rather than just two, traditions. He proposed a harmony between the thought of Plato and Aristotle, and saw aspects of the prisca theologia in Averroes (Ibn Rushd), the Quran, the Kabbalah and other sources.[3] Agostino Steuco (1497–1548) coined the term philosophia perennis.[4]

A more popular interpretation argues for universalism, the idea that all religions, underneath seeming differences, point to the same Truth. In the early 19th century the Transcendentalists propagated the idea of a metaphysical Truth and universalism, which inspired the Unitarians, who proselytized among Indian elites. Towards the end of the 19th century, the Theosophical Society further popularized universalism, not only in the western world, but also in western colonies. In the 20th century, universalism was further popularized through the Advaita Vedanta inspired Traditionalist School, which argued for a metaphysical, single origin of the orthodox religions, and by Aldous Huxley and his book The Perennial Philosophy, which was inspired by neo-Vedanta and the Traditionalist School.

Definition[edit source]

Renaissance[edit source]

The idea of a perennial philosophy originated with a number of Renaissance theologians who took inspiration from neo-Platonism and from the theory of FormsMarsilio Ficino (1433–1499) argued that there is an underlying unity to the world, the soul or love, which has a counterpart in the realm of ideas.[2] According to Giovanni Pico della Mirandola (1463–1494), a student of Ficino, truth could be found in many, rather than just two, traditions.[3] According to Agostino Steuco (1497–1548) there is "one principle of all things, of which there has always been one and the same knowledge among all peoples."[5]

Traditionalist School[edit source]

The contemporary, scholarly oriented Traditionalist School continues this metaphysical orientation. According to the Traditionalist School, the perennial philosophy is "absolute Truth and infinite Presence".[6] Absolute Truth is "the perennial wisdom (sophia perennis) that stands as the transcendent source of all the intrinsically orthodox religions of humankind."[6] Infinite Presence is "the perennial religion (religio perennis) that lives within the heart of all intrinsically orthodox religions."[6] The Traditionalist School discerns a transcendent and an immanent dimension, namely the discernment of the Real or Absolute, c.q. that which is permanent; and the intentional "mystical concentration on the Real".[7]

According to Soares de Azevedo, the perennialist philosophy states that the universal truth is the same within each of the world's orthodox religious traditions, and is the foundation of their religious knowledge and doctrine. Each world religion is an interpretation of this universal truth, adapted to cater for the psychological, intellectual, and social needs of a given culture of a given period of history. This perennial truth has been rediscovered in each epoch by mystics of all kinds who have revived already existing religions, when they had fallen into empty platitudes and hollow ceremonialism.[8][page needed]

Shipley further notes that the Traditionalist School is oriented on orthodox traditions, and rejects modern syncretism and universalism, which creates new religions from older religions and compromise the standing traditions.[9]

Aldous Huxley and mystical universalism[edit source]

One such universalist was Aldous Huxley,[9] who propagated a universalist interpretation of the world religions, inspired by Vivekananda's neo-Vedanta and his own use of psychedelic drugs. According to Huxley, who popularized the idea of a perennial philosophy with a larger audience,

The Perennial Philosophy is expressed most succinctly in the Sanskrit formula, tat tvam asi ('That thou art'); the Atman, or immanent eternal Self, is one with Brahman, the Absolute Principle of all existence; and the last end of every human being, is to discover the fact for himself, to find out who he really is.[10]

In Huxley's 1944 essay in Vedanta and the West, he describes "The Minimum Working Hypothesis", the basic outline of the perennial philosophy found in all the mystic branches of the religions of the world:

That there is a Godhead or Ground, which is the unmanifested principle of all manifestation.

That the Ground is transcendent and immanent.

That it is possible for human beings to love, know and become the Ground.

That to achieve this unitive knowledge, to realize this supreme identity, is the final end and purpose of human existence.

That there is a Law or Dharma, which must be obeyed, a Tao or Way, which must be followed, if humans are to achieve their final end.

Origins[edit source]

The perennial philosophy originates from a blending of neo-Platonism and Christianity. Neo-Platonism itself has diverse origins in the syncretic culture of the Hellenistic period, and was an influential philosophy throughout the Middle Ages.

Classical world[edit source]

Hellenistic period: religious syncretism[edit source]

During the Hellenistic periodAlexander the Great's campaigns brought about exchange of cultural ideas on its path throughout most of the known world of his era. The Greek Eleusinian Mysteries and Dionysian Mysteries mixed with such influences as the Cult of IsisMithraism and Hinduism, along with some Persian influences. Such cross-cultural exchange was not new to the Greeks; the Egyptian god Osiris and the Greek god Dionysus had been equated as Osiris-Dionysus by the historian Herodotus as early as the 5th century BC (see Interpretatio graeca).[11][12]

Roman world: Philo of Alexandria[edit source]

Philo of Alexandria (c.25 BCE – c.50 CE) attempted to reconcile Greek Rationalism with the Torah, which helped pave the way for Christianity with neoplatonism, and the adoption of the Old Testament with Christianity, as opposed to Gnostic roots of Christianity.[13] Philo translated Judaism into terms of StoicPlatonic and neopythagorean elements, and held that God is "supra rational" and can be reached only through "ecstasy." He also held that the oracles of God supply the material of moral and religious knowledge.

Neoplatonism[edit source]

Neoplatonism arose in the 3rd century CE and persisted until shortly after the closing of the Platonic Academy in Athens in AD 529 by Justinian I. Neoplatonists were heavily influenced by Plato, but also by the Platonic tradition that thrived during the six centuries which separated the first of the neoplatonists from Plato. The work of neoplatonic philosophy involved describing the derivation of the whole of reality from a single principle, "the One." It was founded by Plotinus,[web 1] and has been very influential throughout history. In the Middle Ages, neoplatonic ideas were integrated into the philosophical and theological works of many of the most important medieval Islamic, Christian, and Jewish thinkers.

Renaissance[edit source]

Ficino and Pico della Mirandola[edit source]

Marsilio Ficino (1433–1499) believed that Hermes Trismegistos, the supposed author of the Corpus Hermeticum, was a contemporary of Mozes and the teacher of Pythagoras, and the source of both Greek and Jewish-Christian thought.[1] He argued that there is an underlying unity to the world, the soul or love, which has a counterpart in the realm of ideas. Platonic Philosophy and Christian theology both embody this truth. Ficino was influenced by a variety of philosophers including Aristotelian Scholasticism and various pseudonymous and mystical writings. Ficino saw his thought as part of a long development of philosophical truth, of ancient pre-Platonic philosophers (including ZoroasterHermes TrismegistusOrpheus, Aglaophemus and Pythagoras) who reached their peak in Plato. The Prisca theologia, or venerable and ancient theology, which embodied the truth and could be found in all ages, was a vitally important idea for Ficino.[2]

Giovanni Pico della Mirandola (1463–94), a student of Ficino, went further than his teacher by suggesting that truth could be found in many, rather than just two, traditions. This proposed a harmony between the thought of Plato and Aristotle, and saw aspects of the Prisca theologia in Averroes, the Koran, the Cabala among other sources.[3] After the deaths of Pico and Ficino this line of thought expanded, and included Symphorien Champier, and Francesco Giorgio.

Steuco[edit source]

De perenni philosophia libri X[edit source]

The term perenni philosophia was first used by Agostino Steuco (1497–1548) who used it to title a treatise, De perenni philosophia libri X, published in 1540.[4] De perenni philosophia was the most sustained attempt at philosophical synthesis and harmony.[14] Steuco represents the renaissance humanist side of 16th-century Biblical scholarship and theology, although he rejected Luther and Calvin.[15] De perenni philosophia, is a complex work which only contains the term philosophia perennis twice. It states that there is "one principle of all things, of which there has always been one and the same knowledge among all peoples."[16] This single knowledge (or sapientia) is the key element in his philosophy. In that he emphasises continuity over progress, Steuco's idea of philosophy is not one conventionally associated with the Renaissance. Indeed, he tends to believe that the truth is lost over time and is only preserved in the prisci theologica. Steuco preferred Plato to Aristotle and saw greater congruence between the former and Christianity than the latter philosopher. He held that philosophy works in harmony with religion and should lead to knowledge of God, and that truth flows from a single source, more ancient than the Greeks. Steuco was strongly influenced by Iamblichus's statement that knowledge of God is innate in all,[17] and also gave great importance to Hermes Trismegistus.

Influence[edit source]

Steuco's perennial philosophy was highly regarded by some scholars for the two centuries after its publication, then largely forgotten until it was rediscovered by Otto Willmann in the late part of the 19th century.[15] Overall, De perenni philosophia wasn't particularly influential, and largely confined to those with a similar orientation to himself. The work was not put on the Index of works banned by the Roman Catholic Church, although his Cosmopoeia which expressed similar ideas was. Religious criticisms tended to the conservative view that held Christian teachings should be understood as unique, rather than seeing them as perfect expressions of truths that are found everywhere.[18] More generally, this philosophical syncretism was set out at the expense of some of the doctrines included within it, and it is possible that Steuco's critical faculties were not up to the task he had set himself. Further, placing so much confidence in the prisca theologia, turned out to be a shortcoming as many of the texts used in this school of thought later turned out to be bogus[ambiguous].[19] In the following two centuries the most favourable responses were largely Protestant and often in England.

Gottfried Leibniz later picked up on Steuco's term. The German philosopher stands in the tradition of this concordistic philosophy; his philosophy of harmony especially had affinity with Steuco's ideas. Leibniz knew about Steuco's work by 1687, but thought that De la vérité de la religion chrétienne by Huguenot philosopher Phillippe du Plessis-Mornay expressed the same truth better. Steuco's influence can be found throughout Leibniz's works, but the German was the first philosopher to refer to the perennial philosophy without mentioning the Italian.[20]

Popularisation[edit source]

Transcendentalism and Unitarian Universalism[edit source]

Ralph Waldo Emerson (1803–1882) was a pioneer of the idea of spirituality as a distinct field.[21] He was one of the major figures in Transcendentalism, which was rooted in English and German Romanticism, the Biblical criticism of Herder and Schleiermacher, and the skepticism of Hume.[web 2] The Transcendentalists emphasised an intuitive, experiential approach of religion.[web 3] Following Schleiermacher,[22] an individual's intuition of truth was taken as the criterion for truth.[web 3] In the late 18th and early 19th century, the first translations of Hindu texts appeared, which were also read by the Transcendentalists, and influenced their thinking.[web 3] They also endorsed universalist and Unitarian ideas, leading in the 20th Century to Unitarian UniversalismUniversalism holds the idea that there must be truth in other religions as well, since a loving God would redeem all living beings, not just Christians.[web 3][web 4]

Theosophical Society[edit source]

By the end of the 19th century, the idea of a perennial philosophy was popularized by leaders of the Theosophical Society such as H. P. Blavatsky and Annie Besant, under the name of "Wisdom-Religion" or "Ancient Wisdom".[23] The Theosophical Society took an active interest in Asian religions, subsequently not only bringing those religions under the attention of a western audience but also influencing Hinduism and Buddhism in Sri Lanka and Japan.

Neo-Vedanta[edit source]

Many perennialist thinkers (including Armstrong, Huston Smith and Joseph Campbell) are influenced by Hindu reformer Ram Mohan Roy and Hindu mystics Ramakrishna and Swami Vivekananda,[24] who themselves have taken over western notions of universalism.[25] They regarded Hinduism to be a token of this perennial philosophy. This notion has influenced thinkers who have proposed versions of the perennial philosophy in the 20th century.[25]

The unity of all religions was a central impulse among Hindu reformers in the 19th century, who in turn influenced many 20th-century perennial philosophy-type thinkers. Key figures in this reforming movement included two Bengali Brahmins. Ram Mohan Roy, a philosopher and the founder of the modernising Brahmo Samaj religious organisation, reasoned that the divine was beyond description and thus that no religion could claim a monopoly in their understanding of it.

The mystic Ramakrishna's spiritual ecstasies included experiencing the sameness of Christ, Mohammed and his own Hindu deity. Ramakrishna's most famous disciple, Swami Vivekananda, travelled to the United States in the 1890s where he formed the Vedanta Society.

Roy, Ramakrishna and Vivekananda were all influenced by the Hindu school of Advaita Vedanta,[26] which they saw as the exemplification of a Universalist Hindu religiosity.[25]

Traditionalist School[edit source]

The Traditionalist School is a group of 20th and 21st century thinkers concerned with what they consider to be the demise of traditional forms of knowledge, both aesthetic and spiritual, within Western society. The principal thinkers in this tradition are René GuénonAnanda Coomaraswamy and Frithjof Schuon. Other important thinkers in this tradition include Titus BurckhardtMartin LingsJean-Louis MichonMarco PallisHuston SmithHossein NasrJean BorellaElémire Zolla and Julius Evola.[note 2] [note 3] According to the Traditionalist School, orthodox religions are based on a singular metaphysical origin. According to the Traditionalist School, the "philosophia perennis" designates a worldview that is opposed to the scientism of modern secular societies and which promotes the rediscovery of the wisdom traditions of the pre-secular developed world.[citation needed] This view is exemplified by Rene Guenon in The Reign of Quantity and the Signs of the Times, one of the founding works of the traditionalist school.

According to Frithjof Schuon:

It has been said more than once that total Truth is inscribed in an eternal script in the very substance of our spirit; what the different Revelations do is to "crystallize" and "actualize", in different degrees according to the case, a nucleus of certitudes which not only abides forever in the divine Omniscience, but also sleeps by refraction in the "naturally supernatural" kernel of the individual, as well as in that of each ethnic or historical collectivity or of the human species as a whole.[27]

Aldous Huxley[edit source]

The term was popularized in the mid-twentieth century by Aldous Huxley, who was profoundly influenced by Vivekananda's Neo-Vedanta and Universalism.[28] In his 1945 book The Perennial Philosophy he defined the perennial philosophy as:

... the metaphysic that recognizes a divine Reality substantial to the world of things and lives and minds; the psychology that finds in the soul something similar to, or even identical to, divine Reality; the ethic that places man's final end in the knowledge of the immanent and transcendent Ground of all being; the thing is immemorial and universal. Rudiments of the perennial philosophy may be found among the traditional lore of primitive peoples in every region of the world, and in its fully developed forms it has a place in every one of the higher religions.[29]

In contrast to the Traditionalist school, Huxley emphasized mystical experience over metaphysics:

The Buddha declined to make any statement in regard to the ultimate divine Reality. All he would talk about was Nirvana, which is the name of the experience that comes to the totally selfless and one-pointed [...] Maintaining, in this matter, the attitude of a strict operationalist, the Buddha would speak only of the spiritual experience, not of the metaphysical entity presumed by the theologians of other religions, as also of later Buddhism, to be the object and (since in contemplation the knower, the known and the knowledge are all one) at the same time the subject and substance of that experience.[10]

According to Aldous Huxley, in order to apprehend the divine reality, one must choose to fulfill certain conditions: "making themselves loving, pure in heart and poor in spirit."[30] Huxley argues that very few people can achieve this state. Those who have fulfilled these conditions, grasped the universal truth and interpreted it have generally been given the name of saint, prophet, sage or enlightened one.[31] Huxley argues that those who have, "modified their merely human mode of being," and have thus been able to comprehend "more than merely human kind and amount of knowledge" have also achieved this enlightened state.[32]

New Age[edit source]

The idea of a perennial philosophy is central to the New Age Movement. The New Age movement is a Western spiritual movement that developed in the second half of the 20th century. Its central precepts have been described as "drawing on both Eastern and Western spiritual and metaphysical traditions and infusing them with influences from self-help and motivational psychologyholistic healthparapsychology, consciousness research and quantum physics".[33] The term New Age refers to the coming astrological Age of Aquarius.[web 5]

The New Age aims to create "a spirituality without borders or confining dogmas" that is inclusive and pluralistic.[34] It holds to "a holistic worldview",[35] emphasising that the Mind, Body and Spirit are interrelated[web 5] and that there is a form of monism and unity throughout the universe.[36] It attempts to create "a worldview that includes both science and spirituality"[37] and embraces a number of forms of mainstream science as well as other forms of science that are considered fringe.

Academic discussions[edit source]

Mystical experience[edit source]

The idea of a perennial philosophy, sometimes called perennialism, is a key area of debate in the academic discussion of mystical experience. Huston Smith notes that the Traditionalist School's vision of a perennial philosophy is not based on mystical experiences, but on metaphysical intuitions.[38] The discussion of mystical experience has shifted the emphasis in the perennial philosophy from these metaphysical intuitions to religious experience[38] and the notion of nonduality or altered state of consciousness.

William James popularized the use of the term "religious experience" in his The Varieties of Religious Experience.[39] It has also influenced the understanding of mysticism as a distinctive experience which supplies knowledge.[web 6] Writers such as W.T. StaceHuston Smith, and Robert Forman argue that there are core similarities to mystical experience across religions, cultures and eras.[40] For Stace the universality of this core experience is a necessary, although not sufficient, condition for one to be able to trust the cognitive content of any religious experience.[41][verification needed]

Wayne Proudfoot traces the roots of the notion of "religious experience" further back to the German theologian Friedrich Schleiermacher (1768–1834), who argued that religion is based on a feeling of the infinite. The notion of "religious experience" was used by Schleiermacher to defend religion against the growing scientific and secular critique. It was adopted by many scholars of religion, of which William James was the most influential.[42]

Critics point out that the emphasis on "experience" favours the atomic individual, instead of the community. It also fails to distinguish between episodic experience, and mysticism as a process, embedded in a total religious matrix of liturgy, scripture, worship, virtues, theology, rituals and practices.[43] Richard King also points to disjunction between "mystical experience" and social justice:[44]

The privatisation of mysticism - that is, the increasing tendency to locate the mystical in the psychological realm of personal experiences - serves to exclude it from political issues such as social justice. Mysticism thus comes to be seen as a personal matter of cultivating inner states of tranquility and equanimity, which, rather than serving to transform the world, reconcile the individual to the status quo by alleviating anxiety and stress.[44]

Religious pluralism[edit source]

Religious pluralism holds that various world religions are limited by their distinctive historical and cultural contexts and thus there is no single, true religion. There are only many equally valid religions. Each religion is a direct result of humanity's attempt to grasp and understand the incomprehensible divine reality. Therefore, each religion has an authentic but ultimately inadequate perception of divine reality, producing a partial understanding of the universal truth, which requires syncretism to achieve a complete understanding as well as a path towards salvation or spiritual enlightenment.[45]

Although perennial philosophy also holds that there is no single true religion, it differs when discussing divine reality. Perennial philosophy states that the divine reality is what allows the universal truth to be understood.[46] Each religion provides its own interpretation of the universal truth, based on its historical and cultural context potentially providing everything required to observe the divine reality and achieve a state in which one will be able to confirm the universal truth and achieve salvation or spiritual enlightenment.[citation needed]

See also[edit source]

Notes[edit source]

  1. ^ more fully, philosophia perennis et universalis; sometimes shortened to sophia perennis or religio perennis
  2. ^ Renaud Fabbri argues that Evola should not be considered a member of the Perennialist School. See the section Julius Evola and the Perennialist School in Fabbri's Introduction to the Perennialist School.
  3. ^ Paul Furlong argues that ‘Evola’s initial writings in the inter-war period were from an ideological position close to the Fascist regime in Italy, though not identical to it.’ Over his active years, Furlong writes, he ‘synthesized’ spiritual bearings of writers like Guenon with his political concerns of the ‘European authoritarian Right’. Evola tried to develop a tradition different from that of Guénon and thus attempted to develop a ‘strategy of active revolt as a counterpart to the spiritual withdrawal favoured by Guénon.’ Evola, as Farlong puts it, wanted to have political influence both in Fascist and Nazi regime, something which he failed to achieve. See Furlong, Paul: Authoritarian Conservatism After The War Julius Evola and Europe, 2003.

References[edit source]

  1. Jump up to:a b Slavenburg & Glaudemans 1994, p. 395.
  2. Jump up to:a b c Schmitt 1966, p. 508.
  3. Jump up to:a b c Schmitt 1966, p. 513.
  4. Jump up to:a b Schmitt 1966.
  5. ^ Schmitt 1966, p. 517.
  6. Jump up to:a b c Lings & Minnaar 2007, p. xii.
  7. ^ Lings & Minnaar 2007, p. xiii.
  8. ^ Soares de Azevedo 2005.
  9. Jump up to:a b Shipley 2015, p. 84.
  10. Jump up to:a b Huxley 1945.
  11. ^ Durant & Durant 1966, p. 188-192.
  12. ^ McEvilley 2002.
  13. ^ Cahil, Thomas (2006). Mysteries of the Middle Ages. New York: Anchor Books. pp. 13–18. ISBN 978-0-385-49556-1.
  14. ^ Schmitt 1966, p. 515.
  15. Jump up to:a b Schmitt 1966, p. 516.
  16. ^ De perenni philosophia Bk 1, Ch 1; folio 1 in Schmitt (1966) P.517
  17. ^ Jamblichi De mysteriis liber, ed. Gustavus Parthey (Berlin), I, 3; 7-10
  18. ^ Schmitt 1966, p. 527.
  19. ^ Schmitt 1966, p. 524.
  20. ^ Schmitt 1966, p. 530-531.
  21. ^ Schmidt, Leigh Eric. Restless Souls : The Making of American Spirituality. San Francisco: Harper, 2005. ISBN 0-06-054566-6
  22. ^ Sharf 1995.
  23. ^ Blavatsky, Helena Petrovna (1889). The Key to Theosophy. Mumbai, India: Theosophy Company (published 1997). p. 7.
  24. ^ Prothero p.166
  25. Jump up to:a b c King 2002.
  26. ^ Prothero, Stephen (2010) God is Not One: The Eight Rival Religions That Run the World—and Why Their Differences Matter, p. 165-6, HarperOne, ISBN 0-06-157127-X
  27. ^ The Essential Writings of Frithjof Schuon, Suhayl Academy, Lahore, 2001, p.67.
  28. ^ Roy 2003.
  29. ^ Huxley 1945, p. vii.
  30. ^ Huxley, Aldous. The perennial philosophy . [1st ed. New York: Harper & Brothers, 1945. p.2
  31. ^ Huxley, Aldous. The perennial philosophy . [1st ed. New York: Harper & Brothers, 1945. p.3
  32. ^ Huxley, Aldous. The perennial philosophy . [1st ed. New York: Harper & Brothers, 1945. p.6
  33. ^ Drury 2004, p. 12.
  34. ^ Drury 2004, p. 8.
  35. ^ Drury 2004, p. 11.
  36. ^ Michael D. Langone, Ph.D. Cult Observer, 1993, Volume 10, No. 1. What Is "New Age"?, retrieved 2006-07
  37. ^ Drury 2004, p. 10.
  38. Jump up to:a b Smith 1987, p. 554.
  39. ^ Hori 1999, p. 47.
  40. ^ Wildman, Wesley J. (2010) Religious Philosophy as Multidisciplinary Comparative Inquiry: Envisioning a Future for the Philosophy of Religion, p. 49, SUNY Press, ISBN 1-4384-3235-6
  41. ^ Prothero 2010, p. 6.
  42. ^ Sharf 2000, p. 271.
  43. ^ Parsons 2011, p. 4-5.
  44. Jump up to:a b King 2002, p. 21.
  45. ^ Livingston, James. "Religious Pluralism and the Question of Religious Truth in Wilfred C. Smith." The Journal for Cultural and Religious Theory 4, no. 3 (2003): pp.58-65.
  46. ^ Bowden, John Stephen. "Perennial Philosophy and Christianity." In Christianity: the complete guide . London: Continuum, 2005. pp.1-5.

Sources[edit source]

Printed sources[edit source]

  • Soares de Azevedo, Mateus (2005), Ye Shall Know the Truth: Christianity and the Perennial Philosophy, World Wisdom, ISBN 0-941532-69-0
  • Blavatsky, Helena Petrovna (1997), The Key to Theosophy, Mumbai, India: Theosophy Company
  • James S. Cutsinger, The Fullness of God: Frithjof Schuon on Christianity, Bloomington, Indiana: World Wisdom, 2004
  • Drury, Nevill (2004), The New Age: Searching for the Spiritual Self, London, England, UK: Thames and Hudson, ISBN 0-500-28516-0
  • Durant; Durant (1966), Will Durant, The Story of Civilization. Volume 2: The Life of Greece, Simon and Schuster
  • Ranjit Fernando (ed.) (1991), The Unanimous Tradition, Essays on the essential unity of all religions. Sri Lanka Institute of Traditional Studies, 1991 ISBN 955-9028-01-4
  • Hori, Victor Sogen (1999), Translating the Zen Phrase Book. In: Nanzan Bulletin 23 (1999) (PDF)
  • Huxley, Aldous (1945), The perennial philosophy (1st ed.), New York: Harper & Brothers
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  • John Holman (2008), The Return of the Perennial Philosophy: The Supreme Vision of Western Esotericism. Watkins Publishing, ISBN 1-905857-46-2
  • Jacobs, Alan (2004), Advaita and Western Neo-Advaita. In: The Mountain Path Journal, autumn 2004, pages 81-88, Ramanasramam, archived from the original on 2015-05-18
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  • Lings, Martin; Minnaar, Clinton (2007), The Underlying Religion: An Introduction to the Perennial Philosophy, World Wisdom, ISBN 9781933316437
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  • McEvilley, Thomas (2002), The Shape of Ancient Thought
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  • Parsons, William B. (2011), Teaching Mysticism, Oxford University Press
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  • Prothero, Stephen (2010), God is Not One: The Eight Rival Religions That Run the World--and Why Their Differences Matter, HarperOne, ISBN 978-0-06-157127-5
  • Roy, Sumita (2003), Aldous Huxley And Indian Thought, Sterling Publishers Pvt. Ltd
  • Schmitt, Charles (1966), "Perennial Philosophy: From Agostino Steuco to Leibniz", Journal of the History of Ideas27 (1): 505–532), doi:10.2307/2708338JSTOR 2708338
  • Sharf, Robert H. (2000), "The Rhetoric of Experience and the Study of Religion" (PDF)Journal of Consciousness Studies7 (11–12): 267–87, archived from the original (PDF) on 2013-05-13, retrieved 2013-05-04
  • Shear, Jonathan (1994), "On Mystical Experiences as Support for the Perennial Philosophy", Journal of the American Academy of Religion62 (2): 319–342, doi:10.1093/jaarel/LXII.2.319JSTOR 1465269
  • Sherrard, Philip (1998), "Christianity and Other Sacred Traditions", Christianity: Lineaments of a Sacred Tradition, Brookline, Massachusetts: Holy Cross Orthodox Press
  • Shipley, Morgan (2015), Psychedelic Mysticism: Transforming Consciousness, Religious Experiences, and Voluntary Peasants in Postwar America, Lexington Books
  • Slavenburg; Glaudemans (1994), Nag Hammadi Geschriften I, Ankh-Hermes
  • Smith, Huston (1987), "Is There a Perennial Philosophy?", Journal of the American Academy of Religion55 (3): 553–566, doi:10.1093/jaarel/LV.3.553JSTOR 1464070

Web-sources[edit source]

Further reading[edit source]

Traditionalist School

  • Martin LingsThe Underlying Religion: An Introduction to the Perennial PhilosophyISBN 1933316438
  • William W. Quinn, junior. The Only Tradition, in S.U.N.Y. Series in Western Esoteric Traditions. Albany, N.Y.: State University of New York Press, 1997. xix, 384 p. ISBN 0-7914-3214-9 pbk
  • Samuel Bendeck Sotillos, Psychology and the Perennial Philosophy: Studies in Comparative Religion (Bloomington, IN: World Wisdom, 2013). ISBN 978-1-936597-20-8

Aldous Huxley

  • Huxley, Aldous (2004), The Perennial Philosophy (Harper Modern Classics 2004 ed.), Harper & Row, ISBN 0-06-057058-X

External links[edit source]

2021/09/06

[[learn from the perennial philosophy of Aldous Huxley? Jules Evans

What can we learn from the perennial philosophy of Aldous Huxley? | Aeon Essays

Perennial philosophy

Aldous Huxley argued that all religions in the world were underpinned by universal beliefs and experiences. Was he right?



Aldous Huxley in 1958. Photo by Philippe Halsman/Magnum

Jules Evans  is a research fellow at the Centre for the History of the Emotions at Queen Mary University of London. 

He is co-editor, with Tim Read, of the book Breaking Open: Finding a Way Through Spiritual Emergency (2020).

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3,400 words

Edited by  Nigel Warburton

When I was a teenager, I came across Aldous Huxley’s The Perennial Philosophy (1945). I was so inspired by its array of mystical jewels that, like a magpie, I stole it from my school’s library. I still have that copy, sitting beside me. Next, I devoured his book The Doors of Perception (1954), and secretly converted to psychedelic mysticism. It was thanks to Huxley that I refused to get confirmed, thanks to him that my friends and I spent our adolescence trying to storm heaven on LSD, with mixed results. Huxley’s Perennial Philosophy has stayed with me through my life. He’s been my spirit-grandad. And yet, in the past few years, as I’ve researched his life, I find myself increasingly arguing with Grandad. What if his philosophy isn’t true?

The phrase ‘perennial philosophy’ was first coined by the Renaissance humanist Agostino Steuco in 1540. It referred to the idea that there is a core of shared wisdom in all religions, and to the attempt by Marsilio Ficino’s Neoplatonist school to synthesise that wisdom into one transcultural philosophy. This philosophy, writes Huxley, ‘is immemorial and universal. Rudiments of the perennial philosophy may be found among the traditionary lore of primitive peoples in every region of the world, and in its fully developed forms it has a place in every one of the higher religions.’ 

As Huxley argues, there is a lot of agreement between proponents of classical theism in Platonic, Christian, Muslim, Hindu and Jewish philosophy over three main points: 
  • God is unconditioned eternal Being, 
  • our consciousness is a reflection or spark of that, and 
  • we can find our flourishing or bliss in the realisation of this.

But what about Buddhism’s theory of anatta, or ‘no self’? 
Huxley suggests that the Buddha meant the ordinary ego doesn’t exist, but there is still an ‘unconditioned essence’ (which is arguably true of some forms of Buddhism but not others). 
I suspect scholars of Taoism would object to equating the Tao with the God of classical theism. 
As for ‘the traditional lore of primitive peoples’, I’m sure Huxley didn’t know enough to say.

Still, one can see striking similarities in the mystical ideas and practices of the main religious traditions. The common goal is to overcome the ego and awaken to reality. Ordinary egocentric reality is considered to be a trancelike succession of automatic impulses and attachments. The path to awakening involves daily training in contemplation, recollection, non-attachment, charity and love. 

When one has achieved ‘total selflessness’, one realises the true nature of reality. There are different paths up the mystic mountain, but Huxley suggests that the peak experience is the same in all traditions: a wordless, imageless encounter with the Pure Light of the divine.

How do we know it’s worth following this arduous path? We have to take the great mystics’ word for it. Huxley writes: ‘the nature of this one Reality is such that it cannot be directly and immediately apprehended except by those who have chosen to fulfil certain conditions, making themselves loving, pure in heart, and poor in spirit.’ However, we can try the first steps up the mountain and see what sort of empirical results we get.

Whatever else it is, The Perennial Philosophy is an extraordinary work of synthesis, and it injected a global spirituality into mainstream Western culture. Huxley condemned the ‘theological imperialism’ that appreciates only Western texts, and introduced many readers to now-familiar non-Western teachings – the Bhagavad Gita, the Upanishads, the teachings of the Buddha, Zhuang Zi, Rumi. Still, it’s quite an idiosyncratic selection of quotes. There’s a lot of Vedanta and Mahayana Buddhism, and plenty of male Christian mystics, but hardly any female mystics, only one line from Jesus, and no quotes from the Quran. In what sense, then, is it universal?


Although Huxley wrote that the perennial philosophy is ‘immemorial and universal’, his book was a product of a particular time and place. In the first half of his life, Huxley was known as an irreverent mocker of religion, ‘the man who hates God’ as one newspaper put it. He was the grandson of Thomas Huxley, a renowned Victorian scientist who ridiculed Christian superstitions and suggested that evolutionary science could be something like a new religion.

Huxley’s cynical exterior broke down in the 1930s. He could no longer handle living in a materialist, meaningless universe. But rather than convert to Christianity, as peers such as T S Eliot did, he turned to the scientific spirituality of his friend Gerald Heard, the BBC’s first science journalist. Heard thought that psychology and other sciences could provide an empirical evidence base for spiritual techniques such as meditation. This empirical spirituality (my phrase) appealed to Huxley.

He and Heard became leading figures in the pacifist movement of the 1930s. But they abruptly abandoned hope in Europe, and moved to Los Angeles in 1937. For a while they, along with the novelist Christopher Isherwood, became prominent members of the Vedanta Society of southern California (Vedanta is a form of Hindu mysticism). They were nicknamed ‘the mystical expatriates’ by another such expat, Alan Watts. When the Second World War broke out, they faced a lot of criticism back in Britain for their ‘desertion’ to Hollywood.

Quaker Non-Theism – Quaker Theology

Quaker Non-Theism – Quaker Theology



Quaker Non-Theism

1] 
“Following Jesus: The Heart of Faith and Practice”* A Review


Reviewed by George Amoss Jr. Paul Anderson is Professor of Biblical and Quaker Studies at George Fox University). His Following Jesus: The Heart of Faith and Practice is a collection of 36 essays, some of which had appeared in earlier forms in Evangelical Friend, a periodical that Anderson edited for a time. The book reflects the contradiction inherent in …

2]
Continue reading““Following Jesus: The Heart of Faith and Practice”* A Review”
“The Trouble with God: Building the Republic of Heaven”* A Review

3] 
A theist Friend’s Appreciation of Quaker Non-theism
“Godless For God’s Sake: Nontheism In Contemporary Quakerism”* — A Review


What have we come to in Friends religious thought, when the most exciting book of Quaker theology I’ve read in years is produced by a bunch of Quaker non-theists–twenty-seven in all?

===
“Following Jesus: The Heart of Faith and Practice”* A Review
Reviewed by George Amoss Jr.

Paul Anderson is Professor of Biblical and Quaker Studies at George Fox University). His Following Jesus: The Heart of Faith and Practice is a collection of 36 essays, some of which had appeared in earlier forms in Evangelical Friend, a periodical that Anderson edited for a time. The book reflects the contradiction inherent in the name of that periodical and in the religion it represents. On even a generous critical reading, it demonstrates, although obviously against the author’s intent, the impossibility of melding two incompatible religions: Evangelical Christianity, which insists on submission to scripture as primary source of truth, and early Quakerism, which subsisted in submission to the present, immediate guidance of the Spirit of Christ.

Evidently unaware of his predicament, Anderson writes with the assurance of one who knows the truth. Having promised, in the book’s subtitle, to illuminate the heart, the essential core, of religious/spiritual life, he defines that heart, if vaguely and arbitrarily, in the Prologue:

Indeed, there can be no authentic religion, no effective spirituality, without a pervasive and ongoing stance of openness and receptivity to the divine presence and will.[1]

Despite that and similar assertions, however, the religion promoted in Following Jesus is centered on openness not to “the divine presence and will” but to particular readings of certain texts. Anderson, while giving abundant lip-service to the guiding presence of Christ the living Word (Logos), tacitly accepts the Evangelical conflation of Word and words, in effect substituting the Bible for Christ – as if a scriptural veil were needed to cover a divine absence.

The essays, marred by imprecise writing, poor editing and proofreading, and the frequent and telling use of rhetorical qualifiers such as “authentic” and “true,” are arranged in seven sections, as if to cover all aspects of spiritual life. But the book’s displacement of the living Spirit by the dead letter is evident already in the first section, and the remainder of the book only further illustrates Anderson’s failure to meet his own criterion for “authentic religion.”

A look at an early essay called “The Present Leadership of the Resurrected Lord” will bring that failure into focus. The essay begins as follows.

While Christians believe in the resurrection of Christ, too few have taken seriously what it means to live under his present leadership. In fact, the implications of believing in the resurrected Lord may be among the most neglected aspects of the Christian faith[2]

In the tone of spiritual superiority that infects much of the book, Anderson in that passage gives unintentional acknowledgment of the absence of a resurrected Christ. The passage implies that if we believe that Jesus was raised and still lives in divine form, then we will deduce that he is able to lead us in the present time. The implication is, then, that “authentic” spiritual/moral life is grounded not in encounter with the living Christ but in inference from scripture-derived belief, as if early Friends’ experience that “Christ is come to teach his people himself” were merely a text-based supposition.

A little later in the essay, the inferential logic is more explicit:

If Christ is alive, he seeks to lead us, and if he seeks to lead us, we can discern and obey his will.

Believing this is one thing; doing it effectively is another. Fortunately, throughout the history of the church, learnings from the past inform our approaches today, and several principles have been found to be trustworthy.[3]

Having deduced Christ’s implied “present leadership,” we find ourselves, according to Anderson, with the problem of knowing when and what Christ might be speaking to us. Anderson will attempt to help us with that problem by enumerating five queries – criteria phrased as questions – for the individual’s use in testing his or her “leadings.”[4]

But should a person have a discernment problem if Almighty God is actually talking to her? Did Moses convene a committee to decide the legitimacy of the burning bush? Did Paul on the Damascus road require, “But how do I know it’s really you?” Did George Fox assess Christ’s inward revelation against texts?

Whereas Fox advised unwavering trust in the Spirit, an attitude that does not separate one from the divine power working within – “If you sit still in the patience which overcomes in the power of God, there will be no flying” [5] – Paul Anderson (and he has many brethren, even among non-Evangelical Quakers[6]) breaks faith with the Spirit by reifying its work and subjecting the objectified “leading” to trial by text and tradition. The real-life consequences – such as schisms over acknowledging the human rights of homosexual people – are all too predictable.[7]

Anderson’s five criteria, which we’ll examine in a moment, contravene Fox’s advice, thereby implying that those who require them lack or reject Fox’s experience – a result, early Friends might say, of lack of faith in the living Spirit of Christ. They contradict as well, therefore, the presumed “Amen” to Anderson’s if-statements (which, again, indicate logical deduction rather than immediate encounter): if we cannot be led directly by Christ, then, by Anderson’s logic, Christ is not alive. In effect, the criteria undermine a central conceit of the book, and the very heart of early Quakerism, by denying the immediate guidance of Christ.

The first Friends found the leading of the living Christ, the inner light and Logos of God, to be clear and sufficient. Isaac Penington, one of the important Quaker apostles whose words are conspicuously absent from Following Jesus, eloquently expressed the early Quaker experience:

Shall the living Word be in the heart, and not the rule of the heart? Shall he speak in the heart, and the man or woman in whom he speaks run to the words of scripture formerly spoken, to know whether these be his words or no? Nay, nay, his sheep know his voice better than so.[8]

Compare that to the first of Anderson’s aptly named “Questions for Testing One’s Leadings.”

1. “Is this leading in keeping with the teachings of the Scriptures?” The Spirit who inspired the Scriptures will not contradict the truths contained in the Bible. The Bible serves as an objective referent [sic] to check subjective leadings.

The doctrine there declared is not new to Friends; it was taught by such Quakers as the 19th-century evangelical reformer Joseph John Gurney,[9] who is quoted in Following Jesus and whose influence pervades the book. But in present-day context it betrays a needlessly naïve view of reading/interpretation. By this point in history, we should be acutely aware that, as John D. Caputo put it,

As soon as something … is committed to words, an argument breaks out about the right interpretation – about the syntax, the etymology of the words, the usage, the context, the intention of the author, what the original audience would have been assuming, what the common presuppositions of everyone involved were, etc.[10]

(The first criterion itself is a case in point: did Anderson really intend “referent,” with its connotation that Christ’s guidance must point to the Bible, or did he erroneously write “referent” for “reference”? And if the latter, might the slip nonetheless reveal a bias?)

Yet Anderson would constrain the Holy Spirit by “the truths contained in the Bible.” “What,” we justifiably ask, “is truth?” When Pontius Pilate asks that question, there is irony in the fact that “the way, the truth, and the life” stands physically before him,[11] but there is no such irony in our asking, precisely because the “truth” presented to us is not Christ but a collection of ancient texts about which arguments have raged for thousands of years. What are those objective truths in the Bible, and how would we know them?

Friends such as Fox and Penington insisted that we discern the truth of scripture only if and when we are reading it in the same Spirit in which it was written. As he did on the road to Emmaus, but inwardly as the Light enlightening everyone,[12] Christ the Word opens the meaning of scripture; thus opened, scripture can be “beneficial for teaching, exposing, correcting, and learning in justice” (2 Tim. 3:16). But, as Paul implies in 2 Cor. 3:16, scriptures read without the Spirit’s hermeneutic are words of death. Penington:

But he that is come to the true Shepherd, and knows his voice, he cannot be deceived. Yea, he can read the scripture safely, and taste the true sweetness of the words that came from the life; but man who is out of the life feeds on the husks, and can receive no more. He hath gathered a dead, dry, literal, husky knowledge out of the scripture, and that he can relish; but should the life of the words and things there spoken of be opened to him, he could not receive them, he himself being out of that wherein they were written, and wherein alone they can be understood. [The Way of Life and Death…][13]

Living in the Word, the life from which the words come and to which they point, we know how to understand scripture. But the hybrid religion of Following Jesus exchanges that Spirit-led hermeneutical circle for a vicious one. If, as Fox’s Quakerism asserts, we cannot read scripture correctly without the immediate leading of the Spirit, and if, as Evangelical Quakerism would have it, we cannot discern leadings of the Spirit unless we can read scripture correctly, then both Spirit and scripture are useless as guides.

If that undesirable conclusion is to be dodged, then one of the two must supplant the other. The Bible, having physical – objective? – existence and being amenable (“Can I get an ‘Amen’?”) to authoritative interpretation, is the obvious choice. In practice if not in presentation, the Sun of Righteousness is eclipsed by mediated and interpreted scriptures – making professors of biblical studies indispensable mediators of revelation, a situation that greatly exercised the first Friends.

In the twenty-first century, such naïveté – or sleight of hand – as the criterion expresses is no longer excusable. Given our hard-won sophistication about texts and hermeneutics, and after millennia of often violent disagreement about interpretation of scripture – and oppressive, even murderous, imposition of various interpretations by religious, political, and social powers – a claim that the Bible can serve as objective touchstone is unsupportable and irresponsible.

Anderson’s subsequent criteria are no better.

2. “Are there examples from the past that might provide direction for the present?” We, the body of Christ, can often evaluate Christ’s leadership more clearly by hindsight, and such observations may provide parallels that inform present issues.

In other words, given that Christ is unable to provide clear guidance in the present, what rules can we extract from the past – in a text – that we can apply in the name of his “present” leadership? The body of Christ, it seems, lacks a living head.

3. “Is a leading self-serving, or is it motivated by one’s love for God and others?” … as we release our needs to God, we find that we open ourselves to God meeting our needs in ways pleasing to him.

The query’s “or” should separate a self-centric perspective from an other- or love-centric one, but it does not: both questions are about me. A self-focused I is probably in no condition to judge its own motives, for its motive for judging is already self-serving. In such a situation, to “release our needs to God” is only to seek to have them better met: what is released is not the need (which the Spirit’s scrutiny may reveal as not being a need at all), but the attempt to control how it will be satisfied. Although Following Jesus speaks of transformation, the fundamental self-orientation that is, arguably, the root of injustice – i.e., sin – is not challenged. The query is a rhetorical tautology.

4. “Does it matter who gets the credit?” …

That one restates the previous query.

5. “Is the ministry of Jesus being continued in what we do?” …

Even allowing the “we” in a query expressly addressed to individuals, one wonders: what does the question mean? Who determines, and by which criteria, what the ministry of Jesus was or is? In his expansion of the query, Anderson explains that we must “[take] the time to seek out and know [Christ’s] desires,” an explanation that begs the question the query was supposed to help answer; namely, how can I distinguish Christ’s desires from my own? At best, this query restates the first.

The five queries, then, reduce to two, both of which direct us to discernment under the guidance of (someone’s interpretations of selected) texts from the past. But if the living Christ were objectively present as head of the body, there would be no need to search the scriptures or imitate others: his sheep would know his voice, for, being “in Christ” (as Paul would say), their regenerate hearts and minds would be, as George Fox put it, “not distinct” from his.[14] Penington expressed it succinctly:

Quest. But how may men know that these are true commands of the Lord, and not imaginations or opinions of their own?

Ans. When the principle of life is known and that which God hath begotten is felt in the heart, the distinction between what God opens and requires there and what springs up in man’s wisdom, reason and imagination, is very manifest.[15]

Or, as Paul said in Romans 12:2,

Do not be configured to this age, but be transformed by the reshaping of your mind that you may discern what is the will of God, the good and well-pleasing and perfect.

But if “that which God hath begotten” is not felt in the heart – if, perhaps, one remains “configured to this age,” or one’s only-begotten Lord is only begotten by interpretations of a text – then the tradition must provide the criteria for decision-making. And that substitution is the message implicit in Following Jesus: that, despite the talk of divine presence, “faith and practice” is not life in a Christ-Spirit that both opens and transcends the letter, but the imitation of a Jesus-image and the application of moral norms based on particular readings of scripture. That approach, as is amply demonstrated in this book, rests on assumptions and arguments about which biblical texts take priority, what they say, who Jesus was and is, and what he and others taught. Unless, perhaps, one’s vision is blurred by an ideological lens, the difference between that and primitive Quakerism is stark.

The question of pacifism, addressed toward the end of the book, exemplifies that difference. Anderson espouses non-violence, but his justification differs radically from that of a Quaker such as George Fox. When Fox explained why he would not join the army, he referred to scripture indirectly, using the epistle of James not as proof but as background. “I told them,” he reports in the Journal, “that I lived in the virtue of that life and power that takes away the occasion of all wars.”[16] In other words, Fox’s reason for refusing to use violence was not that the Bible told him so, but that the spiritual power and wisdom in and by which he lived – i.e., the living Christ within[17] – was leading him to respond to violence in peaceful love. Fox’s reference to James, whom he read as attributing war to human “lusts,” was explanatory: one who lives in that Christ-power is free of the inordinate desires that lead to violence. 

Anderson pretends to know Fox’s thoughts at the time, yet he (mis)interprets Fox’s statement as expressing determination to live by a “moral principle,” again confusing “submission to the way of the Holy Spirit” with obedience to Bible-derived norms.[18] Consistent with that, he argues for pacifism by proof-texting, endorsing Walter Wink’s view that Jesus taught a particular form of nonviolent resistance. That approach assumes that to live the gospel is to live out the implications of certain texts: as Anderson put it in a 2002 Quaker Religious Thought article, “Based upon one’s impression of Jesus’ teachings [in the gospel books,] a host of ethical responses to violence and injustice follow.”[19]

Against such views, George Fox would insist that the apostle Paul meant “the gospel is the power of God” (Rom. 1:16) not metaphorically but literally; for Fox, the text announces the gospel, but the gospel itself is spiritual power, not words. The gospel, he wrote, is “a living way, which is revealed within, ‘the power of God unto salvation.’”[20] As such, it both illuminates the way of justice and empowers us to walk in that way. Failing to so distinguish that inward light and power from external imperatives, Anderson would mire us in tired and inconclusive arguments about the import of selected Bible passages.

Following Jesus thus fails to go beyond posturing about “authentic” Christianity and “truths” of scripture, theology, and history. I expect that it will have difficulty convincing anyone not already in sympathy with the author’s opinions, and indeed there is little effort to address the critical reader: the book’s lack of notes, citations, and index is consistent with that.

More importantly, the book undermines the Evangelical Quaker syncretism it espouses. Following Jesus impresses as an unwitting revelation of the true nature of such Quakerism: it strongly suggests that while believing themselves to be in a master-disciple relationship with a living Spirit who guides them, so to speak, in real time, these Friends are actually accepting beliefs and norms from a particular scriptural tradition. The more such Friends develop their ability to do that, so that the praxis of scriptural-traditional memes comes to feel almost automatic, the more convinced they may become that they are hearing and responding to a living Jesus. Following Jesus seems intended to assist in that process, but that is ultimately a work of self-deception and self-programming, unworthy of “partakers of the divine nature” (2 Pet. 1:4).

It is ironic that Anderson’s book, which wants to help us submit to “the present leadership of the resurrected Lord,” instead confronts us with his absence. But Following Jesus reflects the reality of a religion that represses the contradiction at its heart. Traces of that repression are evident even in passages such as the following, in which the personified scriptures take precedence over Jesus in a statement that seems to argue against that very thing:

Some might even assume that God does not, or cannot, communicate directly with humanity, but the Scriptures and Jesus say otherwise. Indeed, humans fall short in our attempts to attend and ascertain God’s presence and direction, but the remedy is to affirm the reality of God’s active workings rather than resorting [sic] to secondhand attempts to represent or effect the real thing.[21]

Indeed. Yet “secondhand attempts to represent or effect the real thing” are Following Jesus’ stock-in-trade. The book presents “following” as obeying imperatives gleaned from, or read into, certain ancient texts, but, as a George Fox might point out, that’s not the only possible perspective. If “Christ is not distinct from his saints,” then to follow Jesus is to be baptized in the Holy Spirit and born as child of God, as sharer in the divine nature agapē; that is, it is to surrender to the inner working of the Spirit such that one lives in and as “Christ, the power of God and the wisdom of God” (1 Cor. 1:24). It is not at all what George Fox, evincing a relatively sophisticated understanding of exegesis, called to “follow their own spirits” by asserting “the spirit’s dwelling in the letter”:

And the spirit that was in [those who] gave forth the scriptures was received [from] God, the Father of spirits, and dwells in God. [But] they that are [out of] the spirit of God within, which gave forth the scriptures, are such as follow their own spirits, and use their tongues, and get the good words, the sheep’s clothing, deceive the hearts of the simple, and tell them “the spirit is in the letter,” which never did any of the experienced saints say; but [those saints] did conclude the spirit dwelt in their hearts, the faith in their hearts, the light in their hearts, the word in their hearts, the anointing within them, God dwelt within them, Christ within them, the law in their hearts, the witness within them, “the ingrafted word that saved their souls,” the gift within, the hidden man in the heart, strength in the inward man; the holy ghost moved them, the spirit of the Father spoke in them; this led them to speak forth scriptures. These [saints] never said the spirit was in the letter, as all the filthy dreamers say …. [22]

Anderson’s book expresses agreement with Fox and others that we can live “under [Christ’s] present leadership,” but it points us instead to prescriptions from the past. Although written in a magisterial tone, Following Jesus: The Heart of Faith and Practice is a work of confusion, a muddle of Spirit and letter, that proclaims the absence of its God by supplanting him with scripture. As such, it is a betrayal, if presumably an unintentional one, of the religion of such Friends as him whose name was appropriated by Paul Anderson’s employer, a religion that was consistent and clear in its faith in and faithfulness to the immediate, inwardly-known inspiration and power of God-who-is-agapē, the light that shines in our darkness.

NOTES
1. Paul Anderson, Following Jesus, p. 1.

2. Following Jesus, p. 18.

3. Following Jesus, pp. 21-22.

4. Following Jesus, p. 22.

5. George Fox, A Journal (Vol. I of The Works of George Fox, 1831 edition), p. 312. See also Hugh Barbour, “Five Tests for Discerning a True Leading,” at:
http://www.tractassociation.org/tracts/tests-discerning-true-leading/.

6. Liberal Quakers as well tend to speak of individual “leadings.” The phrase “many brethren” is used ironically here in memory of the early Quaker James Nayler, who when on trial for blasphemy, said, “I am the Son of God, but I have many brethren” – see Leonard Williams Levy, Blasphemy: Verbal Offense Against the Sacred, from Moses to Salman Rushdie, p. 185.

7. See reports on Indiana YM at Quaker Theology, Issues #18 through #24.

8. Isaac Penington, “The Way of Life and Death Made manifest and Set Before Men,” on line at: http://www.qhpress.org/texts/penington/way.html.

9. Gurney asserted that “it is utterly impossible that the work of God can contradict the word of God; it is utterly impossible that the Spirit of his Truth should say one thing on one occasion, and another on another occasion; opposite to one another; this would confuse all morals, and all religion, and principle, and reduce the moral world to a chaos, like that which was formerly reduced to order, when the spirit of God moved on the face of the waters; and I own I am ashamed, I am afflicted, I am astonished, when I hear anyone under the profession of Quakerism, refusing to test his doctrines by the holy scripture ….” (“Prove All Things, Hold Fast to That Which Is Good,” an 1833 sermon available online at:
http://www.qhpress.org/quakerpages/qhoa/jjgprove.htm.) That sort of naïveté about hermeneutics and contextuality is easier to forgive in a 19th-century writer.

10. John D. Caputo, More Radical Hermeneutics, p. 198.

11. Jn. 14:6a.

12. Jn. 1:9.

13. Isaac Penington, “The Way of Life and Death Made manifest and Set Before Men”

14. See, for example, George Fox’s The Great Mystery (Vol. 3 of Works), page 340.

15. Isaac Penington, “Some Questions and Answers Showing Mankind His Duty,” on line at:
http://www.qhpress.org/texts/penington/duty.html.

16. George Fox, A Journal (Vol. 1 of the 1831 edition of Works), p. 113.

17. See 1 Cor. 1:24 and Col 1:27b.

18. See Following Jesus, pp. 145-146.

19. Paul Anderson, “Jesus Matters: A Response to Professors Borg, Powell and Kinkel,” Quaker Religious Thought #98 (Vol. 30, No. 4), p. 52.

20. George Fox, The Great Mystery, (Vol. III of the 1831 edition of Works). On “the gospel is the power of God” as “plain speech” rather than metaphor, see p. 437. On the gospel as “a living way, which is revealed within,” see p. 21.

21. Following Jesus, p. 130.

22. George Fox, The Great Mystery, p. 281.

_____________________

*Following Jesus: The Heart of Faith and Practice, by Paul Anderson. Barclay Press, 2013. 212 pages. $17.00

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“The Trouble with God: Building the Republic of Heaven”* A Review
Reviewed by Chuck Fager

I’ve been trying to lose my religion for years now, but it refuses to go away. Just when I think I’ve shaken it — put it firmly behind me, a piece of my obscurantist past no longer suited to the faithless life I now lead — it turns up again, dogging me. You’d think it would be easy . . . . But as the world becomes a more bewildering place almost by the week, I find myself longing for what I thought I’d never long for again: a sense of community in the midst of the impersonal vastness, a tribe to call my own . . . .

– Daphne Merkin, the New Yorker, September 11, 2000
Merkin’s very American and very Jewish, comment kept coming back to me as I read David Boulton’s very interesting, and very post-Christian book. He too has been trying to lose his religion, or at least his theology, and he thought he’d done quite a thorough job of it – “God had to go,” he writes. But, as it turned out, “his absence was almost as problematical as his presence.” (p. 222)

Certainly, Boulton has shaken off his original religion, that of the Plymouth Brethren, a British sect that was strict, fundamentalist, and more than a little loopy; it had some Quaker connections at its genesis too. He begins by telling us his own story of growing up in this group, and growing out of it to become an intrepid investigative reporter, traveling the world’s hot spots for Britain’s Independent Television equivalent of our “60 Minutes.” (Though one must say his work sounds much more daring than the usual fare on the venerable CBS warhorse.)

This is a fascinating tale, but as he assures us, it is not really about him, David Boulton; it is about God and the “trouble” that Boulton and numerous other more or less like-minded non-theists have had, and evidently keep having, with the divinity.

As a result, where Boulton has ended up is among Friends, and in the camp of something he calls “radical religious humanism.” To oversimplify for purposes of brevity, this movement’s position is something like this: gods and religions are human-made myths, stories that help us organize the world and our lives in it. Indeed, just about everything “human” about us is a story, or a narrative, a “fiction” created by language.

None of this fictional stuff is “real” out there, especially the god bits. As a result, many once concluded that we can’t, mustn’t believe in this fictional “God” (or gods) as people used to do. As Boulton puts it, ” . . .we decided to manage without him. We pronounced him dead. Deceased. De trop. The late. The new hymns we sang . . .simply left him out.” (P. 70)

However, Boulton has found that neither he nor, he thinks, societies can get along without such stories and myths. Including, dash it all, the story-myth of God; he admits that ” . . . we had trouble with this God too – this absent God, this no-God. He wouldn’t stay dead. He continued to haunt us, a holy ghost who wouldn’t let us alone.” (Ibid.) Yes, even many of the radical religious humanists among whom Boulton moves. As a result, somewhat to his amazement, chagrin, and relief, God has despite all, been “born again” (p. 71).

How so? It goes back to language and stories. Boulton notes how humans have the capacity to get very involved in stories: we care, often deeply, about (pick your fictional preference) whether Harry Potter will survive the final encounter with Voldemort, Frodo will ever get back to the shire – or if Jane Austen’s heroines will make the proper and satisfying match. Anyone who has ever dabbed at an eye in a movie, or been unable to put down a novel, knows what Boulton is getting at. In this experience, “fictional” characters and stories become somehow “real” to us, even as we still “know” they are wholly imaginary, that they only “exist” on the page or the screen.

So it shall be with Boulton’s new-old God. In the unfolding saga of the construction of the “Republic of Heaven” (Boulton, it turns out, coined the term before it was used by novelist Philip Pullman for the popular fantasy trilogy His Dark Materials), this born-again God will be the protagonist of a fictional, yet–Boulton is confident–compelling story enacted not only in theatres but in our communal life. “God is a fiction,” he affirms, “but a necessary, instrumental fiction.” (P. 159) This is God as

our incarnation of mercy, pity, peace, and love, as the sum of our values embodied as a being with whom we can have a relationship–that God tosses away his crown and joins us in the messiness and absurdities of our human lives. Nor is this some domesticated caricature of a God in heaven who would be of no earthly use to anyone. This is the God who plants his footstep in the sea and rides upon the storm, the ancient of days, no less: the most powerful of all the symbols ever created by the symbol-making species called humans. (P. 250)

Moreover, Boulton believes he has found a paradigm and paragon of this republic-building enterprise, in the very real and historical figure of Gerrard Winstanley. Winstanley was the more radical contemporary of George Fox, and a key figure among the Levellers and Diggers during England’s revolutionary years (and he ended his life as a Quaker).

Winstanley was also, it turns out, the archetypal (and perhaps first) non-theist Friend: “For Winstanley, both God and the devil were internalized,” (p.128) and he preferred to call God “the power of reason” (p.129). Boulton has embarked on a long-term project to bring Winstanley’s several books back from historical obscurity into print, as key resources for the larger rehabilitation of theology as necessary fiction.

Boulton’s presentation moves deftly from autobiography to religious history, lucidly through the twists of theology since the Enlightenment, and amusingly to the quirky debates among religious humanists, writing with flair throughout. His account was clear enough, indeed, that I could see just where I parted company with him. It’s when he gets into the matter of God, fiction, and story:

If [God] is a fiction, we are his author as well as reader. Human communities fashioned him, imagined him into being by story telling . . . .We said, “let us now make God in our own image and likeness,” and we breathed into his nostrils the breath of story telling, and God became a living fiction. . . . But it is a story, and God is no more, but no less, than what we have made him.” (P. 164)

Now, this model doubtless works to explain many stories; but not all. Nor does it explain the testimonies of many authors, old and new, that their stories in large measure wrote themselves. They are written down or told by their human “authors,” but not created by them.

One of the oldest such testimonies comes from perhaps 2500 years ago, and was recorded by a man who did not want to begin telling stories, or once begun, to continue. But, lamented the prophet Jeremiah: “If I say, ‘I will not mention him, or speak any more in his name,’ there is in my heart as it were a burning fire shut up in my bones, and I am weary with holding it in, and I cannot.” (Jeremiah 20:9)

And one of the newest such testimonies comes from this writer, even if I tremble to mention myself in the same paragraph with Jeremiah. I have written many stories. Some were indeed constructed fictions, pieces of craft which fit Boulton’s description quite well. But not all: others were given to me, not created by me, and I merely wrote them down and polished them a bit. Of course, I don’t claim these stories are grand prophecies such as Jeremiah delivered; only that I did not create them.

But if I did not make those stories, who did? And if (again, the trembling) Jeremiah refused to tell stories until he literally could not do otherwise, where was that fire in his bones coming from?

So, not to put too fine a point on it, there are stories we write, and stories which write us. Boulton comes within shouting distance of this notion when he says that

. . . just as we are what we eat, so too are we what we read . . . .Every one of the stories we read, hear, see, changes us a little . . . .but the stories that most clearly make us what we are are the great foundation stories of our culture: the origin myths, redemption stories and epic tales of love and death. . . . .Every Arab has been shaped by the Koran, every Jew by the Torah. . . . These are our very foundations, their themes, their inflections and their nuances forming the bedrock of the culture–both “high” and popular–in which we live and move and have our being.” (P. 200)

For him, all this is still a human construct. But Jeremiah’s experience points to another option: if some stories write themselves, and write us, maybe there’s a Story Teller, shaping the world thereby, who is not a human invention, but is really “out there” in some ineffably mysterious fashion.

That may not be much of a theology, but it is what the drift of my own experience leads me to affirm, even in the midst of acknowledging the truth of much of Boulton’s account of the changing god-images and stories.

I don’t state this alternative to argue or to insist Boulton is mistaken; our own stories simply come to different conclusions. For some–even alas, some among Friends–such differences are the mandate for heresy hunts. But those stories in my reading (and experience) all have unhappy endings, and are unnecessary to boot. Instead, I see the difference as the basis for some very fruitful conversations.

Or to put it another way, my Story Teller must be content to have many different storylines in play; else why make so many of them? Including the ones so memorably described in The Trouble with God.

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*The Trouble with God: Building the Republic of Heaven. David Boulton. O Books, Winchester UK & New York. 270 pages, paperback.

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“Godless For God’s Sake: Nontheism In Contemporary Quakerism”* — A Review
Reviewed By Chuck Fager

What have we come to in Friends religious thought, when the most exciting book of Quaker theology I’ve read in years is produced by a bunch of Quaker non-theists, twenty-seven in all?

Well, there will be no hand-wringing about that here: I’ll take thoughtful, articulate, and challenging religious thought wherever I can find it – and there’s plenty of that in this compact volume. By contrast, the sad fact is that precious little of what passes for “religious thought” that dribbles out of the Quaker “mainstream” and into my mailboxes (snail and e-) is worth the paper it’s printed on or the bandwidth it takes up. Maybe it takes being a nontheist for a modern Quaker to get past our ingrained aversion to serious theologizing. If so, that’s reason enough to welcome them in the Society.

Indeed, if I never have to read another muddled and half-baked paean to the murky glories of Quaker mysticism, it will be too soon. And spare me any more stale re-hashes of Handbasket Theology, pronouncing us all perdition-bound via the express lane unless we get right with Somebody’s version of Christ. Get a life, Somebody.

My complaints come, moreover, from one who definitely considers himself a Quaker theist. Or perhaps more accurately, a failed non-theist. This qualification is important here because it bespeaks a respect for clear and careful thought – and a parallel respectful recognition that when it comes to arguments, the atheists have all – or at least most – of the best ones.

This fact is one of the most ancient yet most open secrets of Judeo-Christian theological history. It is as old as the Book of Job – perhaps the earliest biblical theological treatise. In it Jehovah has to pull rank and hide behind a trumped-up tornado to disguise the divine inability to answer the astringent questioning of his loyal servant from the land of Uz. And down the centuries, how many of His other non-divine defenders have done any better, really? (Perhaps that’s why, at the end of Job’s book, Jehovah commends the challenger and rebukes the “friends” who had so long-windedly attempted to defend the divine honor, probity – and, between the lines – existence.)

Thus, far from being shocked or scandalized by Godless For God’s Sake, I looked forward to reading it. Moreover, besides the long pedigree of religious non-theism, I also know that humanism and non-theist-in-all-but-name religious thought is nothing new in American Quakerism. My own studies have traced our humanist-nontheist strand as far back as Lucretia Mott, in the 1840s – that is, more than 160 years. And if space permitted, an essentially unbroken “apostolic succession” could be filled in from her down to the present.

(The fact that this succession has been largely ignored by our historians is only a sign of their bias, not an indication of any lack of material. For some initial explorations in this field, see the essay, “Flowers of Quaker non-theism” by Os Cresson, online at: http://www.nontheistfriends.org/article/flowers-of-quaker-nontheism/ ; or my book, Shaggy Locks & Birkenstocks, Kimo Press 2003; and the essay, “Lucretia Mott: Liberal Quaker Theologian,” in Quaker Theology #10).

In light of this long history, it is distressing, even a bit shocking to see reviewers like the one in Friends Journal (November 2006, p. 25) wringing hands and reeling aghast at the infiltration of infidels into their orthodox sanctuary, and calling for a purge to clear up the Society’s ranks.

It is similarly distressing, but perhaps not surprising, to find the review blatantly distorting and falsifying the book, wrongly accusing its writers with mindless scientism, epistemological narrowness, existential joylessness – just about everything but halitosis, all in the face of plentiful evidence to the contrary. This tells little about Godless for God’s Sake, but shows unmistakably that Friends Journal needs some new, more observant, and even-handed book reviewers.

The reality of the book is quite different. For instance, there is much joy in it. As one writer declares, “I woke one morning with an overwhelming delight at being alive.” (p. 20) Others speak of deep experiences in worship that are mystical in all but name (pp. 57. 139) – and for that matter, mysticism without God is hardly a new phenomenon either; think Zen.

Nor is their religious thinking confined to a shrunken soulless scientism: there is meditation, metaphor, depth, even revelation here: “For artists,” one writer affirms, “making isn’t making up; in whatever terms you choose, it is relationship. If I say God is a metaphor, I don’t mean a figure in an allegory, made to stand for the things we know it stands for. I mean an image, found or ‘given,’ with a deep life of its own, with resonances as yet undisclosed, maybe inexhaustible.” (P. 32; emphasis in original.)

Which points to the matter of thinking about how God does or does not “exist.” Some of the writers could indeed be considered materialist naturalists in their outlook: what you see (or feel, or count) is what you get, and that’s that.

But not all. One author is an accomplished mathematician who writes tellingly about how those in her profession struggle over whether, and how, numbers “exist” or are “real,” with various schools of thought but no final resolution:

“Must the existence of numbers,” she muses, “be either totally independent of human thought or totally dependent on it? Or might the relationship be more complex? I face a similar dilemma with respect to the theist/nontheist question: am I constrained either to accept the idea of God as an eternal transcendent reality or to reject it along with all religious experience I seem to have? Or might there be another alternative? In both cases, total acceptance and total denial feel equally wrong . . . . (T)here are many ways of being real and concrete physical reality is not necessarily the most compelling of these.” (P.39)

The self-appointed guardians of some Quaker Orthodoxy may scoff, but the only prejudice thereby revealed is theirs: this is good stuff.

For that matter, like any worthwhile theological tome, the book includes at least one flash of striking, satori-like insight:

“Much of what we tend to regard as the achievement of Friends as a whole was, in fact, the work of individual Friends, or small groups of Friends, often in the face of opposition or neglect of their monthly meetings. (One of the most positive – if often tedious – aspects of Quaker culture may be its capacity to produce or attract individuals who are willing to stand up to it)” (p. 75)

This observation also manifests another pervasive feature of the collection, namely the authors’ devotion to the Religious Society of Friends. Should meetings be so foolish as to follow the call to attempt a purge – as one, in fact, did (pp. 23-25) – they would be depriving themselves of some of their most devoted and productive members.

What was it that The Man said? “By their fruits ye shall know them.” If that’s so, then as a group, nontheist Friends have as much claim to a legitimate place in contemporary Quakerism as many who feel they are defending the last true redoubt against the invading forces of unbelief. The proper response to the testimonies in these pages is not scorn or witchhunts, but an invitation to further conversation. And in my case, gratitude that these nontheists have taken the theology they don’t accept seriously enough to think and write about it as thoughtfully and engagingly as they have here.

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*Godless For God’s Sake: Nontheism In Contemporary Quakerism. Edited by David Boulton. Cumbria, United Kingdom, Dales Historical Monographs. 146 pages, paperback. US$18.50.