AN INTERPRETATION OF MYSTICAL RELIGION
OR PERENNIAL PHILOSOPHY©
(based primarily on the writings of Edmond La B. Cherbonnier)
by
[1973; rev. 1991, 2000]
I. THE NATURE OF “MYSTICAL RELIGION” OR
“PERENNIAL PHILOSOPHY”
II. THE REAL OR GOD
III. THE STATUS OF THE EVERYDAY WORLD
IV. HUMAN NATURE
V. RELIGIOUS KNOWLEDGE
VI. CONSEQUENCES FOR LIVING
VII. BIBLIOGRAPHY
THE NATURE OF “MYSTICAL RELIGION” OR “PERENNIAL PHILOSOPHY”
“Perennial
Philosophy” or “Mystical Religion” is a generalized label, an “umbrella word,”
designated by some scholars to categorize a great number of different religions
and philosophies. The study of
perennial philosophy is actually a study of major themes, of those key elements
at work in any system of thought that employs its presupposi- tions. The intention of this essay (with the risk
of being simplistic) is to describe one interpretation of those primary themes
common to the thought patterns of perennial philosophy.
Aldous Huxley’s
exposition is one popular exposition,1 although
we shall present the topics according to a different sequence. Introducing the “perennial philosophy” in a
journal, Schmitt has written the following:
Of the philosophical phrases which have come into popular use
during the twentieth century, perhaps none is more curious than “perennial
philosophy” or, in its more common Latin form, philosophia perennis. Although there is no agreement on the
precise meaning of the phrase, it is usually taken to indicate that some sort
of continuous theme runs throughout the history of philosophy, that certain
enduring and lasting truths are recognizable in the philosophical writings of
all historical periods. . . . Particularly during the past seventy years has
“perennial philosophy” become a popular term, and numerous books and articles
have discussed its meaning in detail. What precisely “philosophia perennis”
means is not easy to determine, and the task of determining it is made more
difficult by the fact that a great many philosophers of various persuasions
have, as it were, appropriated the conception and so bent it that their own
philosophy turns out to be perennial philosophy.2
Huxley’s
Summary of “Perennial Philosophy”
Huxley
has written: “. . . under all (the) confusion of particularist doctrines, there
remains a Highest Common Factor, which is the Perennial Philosophy in what may
be called its chemically pure state.”3 He has summed
up the major motifs of perennial thought:
At the core of the
Perennial Philosophy we find four fundamental doctrines:
First: the phenomenal
world of matter and of individualized consciousness—the world of things and
animals and men and even gods—is the manifestation of a Divine Ground within
which all partial realities have their being, and apart from which they would
be nonexistent.
Second: human beings
are capable not merely of knowing about the Divine ground by inference; they
can also realize its existence by a direct intuition, superior to discursive
reasoning. This immediate knowledge
unites the knower with that which is known.
Third: man possesses a
double nature, a phenomenal ego and an eternal self, which is the inner man,
the spirit, the spark of divinity within the soul. It is possible for a man, it he so desires, to identify himself
with the Divine Ground, which is of the same or like nature with the spirit.
Fourth: Man’s life has
only one end and purpose: to identify himself with his eternal Self and so to
come to unitive knowledge of the Divine Ground.4
The following exposition is an interpretation of “Perennial
Philosophy” or “Mystical Religion.”
Though not at odds with Huxley, we shall elaborate the themes
differently.
One of the basic issues raised by any philosophy is the nature
of reality. The position on this issue
serves as the groundwork on which all subsequent notions build. In a general sense, a perennial system would
use this rule of thumb: “the most inclusive is the most real.” This implies
that ultimate reality must be that element in life which somehow incorporates
all of being into its own existence.
The real, therefore, is a final “receptacle” for being; it supplies each
element in the universe with being, because it embodies all of being one
form. The real is immaterial, non‑physical,
and beyond the laws of space and time.
It is the foundation for life, that object or force on which everything
else must depend; the real, therefore, is not only all‑inclusive, but
absolutely necessary.
Such conclusions about the real are derived statements; they are
products of a logical method which begins with the first maxim “the most
inclusive is the most real.” The first
step to understanding the perennial concept of ultimate reality leads beneath
the surface of its conclusions to the inner mechanisms that make it work. In Cherbonnier’s words, the thought process
is described:
The reasoning by which
so many philosophers of Platonic stamp have arrived at their conclusion
concerning the nature of the real is plausible enough; if we are to know
anything, then the object of our knowledge, the real, must be “rational.” It must conform to the requirements of
reason; but if it is not alien to the canons of reason, it cannot be different
from them. And if not different, then,
according to the momentous conclusion of the idealist philosophy, reality and
reason are the same. In Hegel’s formulation, “The real is the rational, and the
rational is the real”; or in Parmenides’, “Thought and Being are One.”
To the further question, “It the rational is the real, then what
exactly do you mean by ‘rational’?” the answer is evident: the rational is the
logical. The most real is, therefore, that which enjoys the greatest logical
priority.5
The One
The first designation given to the real is its singularity. It cannot only be called being or non‑being,
but is referred to as the One. Terms such as “that than which there is no
other” relate to the unique status attached to the real; these terms point
toward the Real’s quality of being absolutely necessary; the One is singled out
as being the focus of existence, the object of universal dependence. The perennialist can coalesce the paradox of
being and non‑being into one unit; beyond a compromise, they begin to
speak in terms of a “Whole.” The real,
therefore, has an identity; it is something more specific than just being.
This process of designating the One gives rise to what can be
called its negative characteristics. Because
it stands at the pinnacle of the material universe, perennial systems want to
differentiate the One from the multiple objects of the natural world; and
because those objects have less reality, the One must be given complete
reality. It cannot include all of being
unless it has the ability to do so.
Mystics, therefore, apply a whole genre of quality‑words to
describe the nature of the One, to separate it from any object lower on the
scale of reality. There are two
important factors that all of these definitive words or names have in common:
first, each implies a state of perfection.
This means that the One is absolutely defined; it is totally pure in
nature. Secondly, designations for the
One carry an implicit understanding of what it cannot do; that is, if it
violates its own character, it is no longer the One; it must be “Wholly Other.”
With these two common elements in mind, the nature of the One
can be implied by the “names” associated with it. In order to place them into some context, we have grouped them
into three general categories:
I. The One as existing without limitation.
(a) Infinite means unbounded; it implies that the One is
constant; it “exists as an eternal focus through eternity.”
(b) Immutable means changeless; the One is beyond the
effects of time and cannot be measured by any historical categories.
(c) Immaterial implies that the One is not of the
same substance as the finite; it is purely nonphysical.
(d) Independent removes the One from any sense of
relationship with another object since that would require it to be dependent on
some external being.
(e) Absolute is a general term that refers to the One as
being perfect and completely above the particulars of lesser reality.
(f) Unconditioned means that no artificial or natural
limits can be imposed on the One.
(g) Indeterminate implies that no force can affect the
One or shape its being.
(h) “Wholly Other” is another general term
which elevates the One ontologically beyond any limitations.
II. The unity of the One.
(a) Impartible separates the One from the quality of
multiplicity that is characteristic of the natural world.
(b) Undifferentiated means the One has no necessary
parts; there is no possibility for internal cycles of cause and effect.
III. The nature of the One.
(a) Impassible means the One is unfeeling; it cannot enter
into a relationship with anything; it is beyond suffering or emotion.
(b) Ineffable leaves the One nameless since a name limits
or particularizes its object.
(c) Inactive means that the One is still; it does not act
since action can imply change.
(d) Mute implies that the One is silent; it does not
speak to any external object.
(e) Impersonal implies that the One does not share the
qualities of human emotion; as a self, it is perfect and unmoved.
(f) Without purpose means that the One does not require
any reason to exist since it would then be dependent on that reason.
(g) Unmanifest means that there is no accessible
knowledge of the One that can be acquired or deduced.
(h) Transcendent implies that in its entirety the One is
on a completely unique plane of reality, separate from the physical world.
What
perennial philosophy has done is to establish a working definition for the One;
it has constructed an image of reality out of the elements of perfection and
inclusiveness. These are powerful
concepts in both religion and philosophy because they do not admit to change or
manipulation. At best, ultimate reality
can only be expanded in an allegorical sense, where the gods might be
identified as the “faces” of the One in nature.
It is
apparent that mystical religion has succeeded in developing a consistent
approach for deriving the nature of reality; it has answered its first question
with the concept of the One. But having
accounted for perfection and the source of being, perennial systems must now
contend with what remains, all those objects of lesser reality that comprise
the natural world. It is at this point
that the mystic splits reality into two halves. The result is a major theme that runs through the entire spectrum
of perennial thought: the duality of existence.
THE STATUS
OF THE EVERYDAY WORLD
Creation
is the Fall
That the natural world
exists at all is an acute issue for mysticism; it has supplied a definition for
what is “really real” and has given that reality certain characteristics: ultimate
reality must be unlimited, unified, and transcendent. A central issue for perennial systems comes into focus when one
compares these three qualities to the world of nature; in each case it is
obvious that none of the qualities are present. Indeed, the natural world is the antithesis of real reality. But if this is true, why does the universe
exist at all? What explanation does
perennial philosophy offer to justify a second realm? It is fair to state that mysticism has no final solution to this
problem. There is no necessity for a
finite world based on the assumptions already made about the One; it appears contradictory
to have a perfect unity existing simultaneously with an imperfect, multiple
world. Perennial philosophy can only
accept the human experience of the natural world and attempt to deal with its
nature.
The first view of the finite
universe is that of something which has been created. The internal mechanics behind the “lower” realm presupposes a
disruption of both unity and perfection (since the two are subsumed by the
One). Consequently, the world of nature
gains its finite or imperfect qualities because it is a composite of all those
character- istics that are negative and alien to reality, i.e., space,
time, and matter. At best, it is a poor
copy of the original, made with inferior materials, and not very dependable.
We understand perennial thinking to claim that the physical
world, in all its multiplicity, contradicts the ideal of unity and universality
of the Divine. Hence, the world is in
some sense a “fall” from the Divine, no matter how the ontology and cosmology
are developed. Thus, the world is a somewhat deficient, though tolerable, condition
in its separation or distant extension from the Divine Ground.
Ways of Relating the One to the World
A problem
posed by this interpretation of reality is the precise relationship of the
Divine to the world. One scholar has
noted:
The Achilles heel of all philosophy of Platonic stamp, whether Oriental
or Western, is the impossibility of explaining the relation of the one to the
many, the timeless to the temporal, the infinite to the finite, the absolute to
the relative. All attempted
explanations amount in the end to what Kierkegaard calls “solution by
superscription”; that is, while they purport to solve the problem, they really
only state it in other terms, such as “reflection,” “participation,”
“emanation,” and the like.6
From this perspective, it is not necessary to run through the
list of creation narratives or myths to get the flavor of a perennial view:
since there is only one, true reality, and since it has a monopoly on all
affirmative (perfect) qualities, then the finite can only be a creation of
negative (imperfect) particles. Not
only is the raw material of the finite subject to decay, but also it is limited
by space and time; because true reality is without activity or emotion, the
natural world must contain them as its motivating factor. Perennial philosophy, therefore, admits to
two realms of reality; it has both the One and the finite, each of which is
contained by its own set of definitions.
What a perennial system must develop is to bring them into a balance, to
reconcile the two halves without sacrificing any of the earlier conclusions
about the One. In order to accomplish this, forms of mystical religion (a synonymous
designation of “perennial philosophy”) must deal with the status of the
everyday world in one of three possible ways: (1) It must place all of its
emphasis on the One, denying any reality to the finite. (2) It must permit the
finite a small amount of reality by seeing it as the reflection of the One. Or,
(3) It must speak of participation between the two realms in which the finite
shares reality with the One.
The first alternative (Maya) is the logical implication
of assuming that the One contains all of reality. Maya represents the natural world as only an illusion, a
seeming-to-be, an appearing-to-be-real. In effect, this perspective removes the
burden of proof for the existence of an imperfect world from perennial
philosophy and gives any explanations over to the transcendent nature of the
One. The mediation between the two
realms is made by refusing to recognize the claims of one party; the balance is
shifted to favor completely the original suppositions about reality. Obviously this approach leaves little room
for argument concerning the status of this world, and its adherents tend to
maximize the “other worldly” or mystical aspects of religion.
The second alternative (dualism) is an amendment of the
first. It is not as strict in
interpretation because it allows the finite a special, limited kind of
reality. Whereas the concept of maya
restricts all reality to the One, this second approach speaks of the world as a
reflection of the One, though its reality is fragmented like light
paving through a prism. What is real in
this world, therefore, is dependent on the One; it is a diluted reality without
substance or self‑motivation.
There is, however, a closer contact between the two realms, since the
images or presence of the One is somehow mysteriously in the natural world.
As a third approach, a perennial system may attempt to reconcile
the duality between the One and the finite through “participation.” Under this alternative, the hierarchy of
forms becomes the “Great Chain of Being.”
Reality filters down through the multiple objects beneath the One; each
contains a minute portion of reality in what has been called a “divine
spark.” A one‑to‑one link
is established between humanity and ultimate reality and, consequently, leaves
open the possibility for human beings to gain some direct contact with the
One. It should be pointed out that this
idea of the Divine being dispersed through the finite is one of the key
elements behind pantheism. [The writer
has been advised that (1) in Hwa Yen Buddhism the “divine” and the finite are
identical and (2) “maybe there is only a finite world (the cosmos), and the
mystic senses or actually experiences his/her oneness with that finite world
(cf. Chuang tze / Neo Taoist).”]
The approach taken by each of these alternatives varies, but
they serve one primary purpose: they attempt to fix the status of this world as
it relates to the One. They are the
products of the some form of duality inherent in perennial philosophy and
reflect the effort to reconcile the two realms. They also suggest the different degrees of emphasis that a
perennial system places either on the One or on the nature of the finite. If a graph were drawn of perennial
philosophy and its concept of the natural world, there would be three main
points: At one end would be the world as “illusion” where only the One has any
claim to reality; in the center is reflection, which attempts to conserve
reality for the One, but also admits to the existence of another, less perfect,
realm; and at the opposite extreme is participation, where the possibilities
for direct contact are greatest. The
three alternatives are indicative of reasonable pluralism in perennial thought
as to whether existence should be narrowed to the One or expanded to
accommodate the finite.
From the methodology of the perennial idea of creation, we can
see a movement toward “narrowing” existence.
It recognizes a disruption of being by space, time, and matter. The plurality that occurred is considered an
evil, and the thrust is toward reducing the elements of real reality to their
highest, single point.
The Nature
of Time
These three alternatives imply that perennial philosophy moves
off the foundation set down in the One in a variety of ways. The inexplicable “fact” of the everyday
world forces a perennial system into the position of having to mediate between
the two poles of its duality. The
purpose behind formulating the status of the natural world is to set it into
some kind of harmony with the One; and although the interpretations of this
realm differ, there is one theme that remains constant in perennial thought:
the idea of time. The quality of time
has a direct influence on perennial philosophy, whatever approach or
interpretation employed. By way of
clarification, one can first state the two main elements at work in the
perennial view of the everyday world: first, it has been reported above that
although there are two realms of reality with varying levels of emphasis placed
on them, the One is always considered far beyond the finite. Second, an attempt is made by any perennial
system to reconcile the duality by placing the natural world into some context
with the infinite. From these two
points, one can see that each alternative (“illusion,” reflection, or
participation) is really a method for arbitration, a means of establishing a
balance in reality. But the inherent
difficulty in effecting this balance is one of definition: the One is immutable
(timeless), while the everyday world is restricted to operating within the laws
of measurable time. This implies that
humanity exists on a totally different plane from the One; we are regulated by
the motion of time through the finite and, consequently, limited in attempts to
enter into contact with ultimate reality.
In fact, it appears contradictory to assume that any contact can be made
between a limited subject (a human being) and an unlimited object (the
One). For this reason, perennial
philosophy considers time to be an illusion or a series of cycles; man is
caught on a kind of treadmill from which there is no cannot escape. History itself is a record of change which
keeps human beings from being reconciled to the One. A further implication of this view is that we are conscious of
our own finitude; we realize that whatever has absolute reality must be
changeless, but that our chances for entering into a communion with that
reality are severely impaired by our inability to escape the passage of
time. The three alternatives for arbitrating
between man and God have meaning only if they can resolve the question of time
and change.
The status of the everyday world, therefore, can be classified
within three general aspects: (1) it is an inexplicable disruption of unity
which is the antithesis to the One; (2) it is directed by the attempt to escape
imperfection and enter into some larger context with the One, either as a
dream, a reflection, or by sharing in the One’s reality; (3) the movement
toward ultimate reality is blocked by the effects of time which produces the
change that ties humanity to the finite.
Finally, all of these motifs within mystical religion are products of
the central duality inherent in its logic.
This same quality of two halves will consistently appear in perennial
thought as an undercurrent that directs and shapes many of its conclusions.
HUMAN
NATURE
The Two
Selves
Human beings are aspects of the finite. For perennial philosophy, we are affected by the laws of space, time, and matter just as is any inanimate object. In considering human nature, therefore, we are aware of the same philosophic presuppositions that were applied to the status of the everyday world. Most of all, it should be clear that perennial philosophy does not consider human beings as one, complete, finished product. Human nature incorporates duality and is a composite of two parts: the lower self and the transcendent self.
The perennial approach to human nature is very similar to its
analysis of the finite realm. A
distinction is made between a “lower” self which is grounded in the conditions
and laws imposed by time and space, and a “higher” self which is in harmony
with the One. Of the two aspects of
human nature, the first is the most readily apparent. From observation and experience, a perennial thinker can assert
that man is completely finite; as physical beings, we fulfill none of the
requirements associated with the One; we are subject to limitations of time and
space and, consequently, the antithesis of the One.
If physical humanity were left at this end of the perennial
graph, i.e., in an illusory state devoid of any reality, then our nature
would be singular; we would be completely finite. It is through the influence of the other two possibilities
(reflection and participation) that mystical religion introduces the concept of
another side to human nature. Like the
world, the two alternatives give humans more reality; they suggest that there
exists in us some small element of the Divine.
Consequently, man is more than an object; he is animated in a special
way; he is the recipient of a minute portion of true reality that stands beyond
the contradictions of his reason or ego.
This portion of human nature is often referred to as the “soul.”
That human beings can be credited with a soul is the positive
counterbalance to his purely finite self.
It is necessary, however, to make a distinction between human reason and
the quality of the soul. Perennial
philosophy does not necessarily equate the two. Individual human characteristics (personality, ego, intentions,
mental processes, and reason) can be considered finite. They are each limited either by the external
laws in the world or by the effects of misjudgment and fallibility. Moreover, they are grounded in human
experience which is itself imperfect and always subject to change. Consequently, when perennial philosophy
speaks of a higher, transcendent element in human nature, it is referring to
the soul.
A definitive statement about the soul is difficult to
formulate. It lies somewhere in the context
of participation, where humanity is endowed with a unique, divine spark that is
totally alien to this world. The soul,
therefore, is an external acquisition; it is not an inherent aspect within
physical man, because as non-physical it is not subject to change or
death. At least one distinction can be
made about the soul: if it exists, it is universal. There are not different types of soul for different people; as a
product of the One, the human soul has the same unity and all‑inclusiveness
as its source. The soul is considered
to be a small portion of the One injected into the physical body of the finite
world. As Meister Eckhart noted, “...I
discover that God and I are one.”7 It is important to remember, however, that
perennial philosophy has no final explanation as to why this occurred; it
offers no general thesis to justify the One’s dispensing portions of itself
through the world, nor does it consider whether, by definition, this would even
be possible.
If the assumption is made that a soul does exist in men and
women and that it is, in fact, a divine spark from the One, then we can begin
to trace some of the concept’s effects on the perennial view of human nature. It is interesting to consider what happens
to the soul once the other “half” of an individual dies. Only the soul is connected to God; it alone
directly shares the higher reality; the rest of the person is perishable and
restricted. It is an almost universal
theme in perennial philosophy that the soul has the ability to escape the
treadmill of time and history. But this
places human nature in a curious situation: it has only one lasting quality,
and yet that quality is, in fact, alien to humanity, since its source is the
One. The question posed is simply, what
intrinsic value does the soul actually have for human life? If at death the soul is released from the
prison of the body, then we have forfeited what was really never ours in the
beginning.
Some schools of thought argued that the divine sparks are a
reservoir for human life. They are
eternal but enter the cycles of birth and death in order to make it possible
for humans to exist at all. Other
interpretations leave man behind at death; the soul enters the body at birth,
animates it for the duration of its finite existence, and then at death flies
back to rejoin the One. Either way, the
question remains as to the real, substantive value of the soul beyond giving
man his relatively short life span. The
One simply reclaims what it has given, and humanity is left on the treadmill.
Another question to consider from this viewpoint is the
definition of a human being. Is an
individual the finite, while the soul is always part of the One? or is there a
closer connection where some part of our “self” survives with the soul? It would be unjust to presuppose any final
answer for perennial philosophy, but there are some indications that would
leave us in our finite state. The dualism
of perennial philosophy prohibits any admixture of soul and self just as it
restricts the ability of a merger between the One and the finite world. Our range of activity as humans, our
freedom, is bound up by the laws of time and space. In the idea of karma, for example, men and women repeat
those functions which promise another birth into a higher level in the cyclical
process of eternal recurrence. Yet the
only hope is to escape this process and cease to be reborn. But this means that the atman (roughly,
the soul) is released from the cycle of regeneration, and the idea of the soul
alone returning to the One is raised again.
Various systems of perennial philosophy speak to this issue with
their own interpretations; in fact, they create a kind of philosophical
language with terms such as nisus, a movement toward the Divine, or
“entelechy” which is the Aristotelian term for that which realizes a cause; but
essentially it can be said that an issue for perennial philosophy resides in
the dual nature of humanity. As
indicated above, the problem of isolating a definition for human nature or for
establishing a value for the soul is constant in any perennial system and
should be kept in mind when reviewing any particular philosophy or theology.
Original
Sin
An additional motif may be used to explain the duality in human
nature which may throw some light on the perennial view. This is the concept of “original sin.”8 At
the core of this idea is the implicit understanding that humanity has lost
something, that our nature was probably once fully in tune with the higher
reality and is analogous to the concept of creation wherein an original unity
was disrupted by the advent of space and time.
In this context, persons are viewed as having once been motivated and determined
by the quality of the soul itself. In
an almost mythical sense, humans were in a state of harmony with the One.
The act or event which characterizes this loss of unity varies
in its description, but the main point is that humanity’s finite nature, our
imperfection and fallibility, severed our primary ties with the One. Man,
therefore, forfeited his claim as a part of higher reality. Like the world in which we live, we have
become a product of time and matter. Our sense of ego and the expression of
purely human reason, the two completely personal aspects of human nature,
eclipsed the soul and left us outside the continuity between our “higher” self
and true reality. The connection between
mankind and the One was broken, and the whole process of finite time blocking
the path to reconciliation occurred.
This breakdown in continuity carries with it a special significance: we
are dependent on our powers of reasoning, our experiential‑theoretical
knowledge. We are in a state of ignorance
when compared to the perfect truth behind the One. Consequently, human ignorance places us on the treadmill of
history as much as our corporal bodies or the laws of change.
The doctrine of original sin, therefore, is a consistent element
in mystical religion. It is in keeping
with the major aspects of duality that have played such an important role in
the perennial view of reality, the finite world, and now of human nature. It is an explanation of why we are cut
off from the One just as creation narratives attempt to explain why the world
exists. And more importantly, it leaves
us under the cloud of suspicion; our fallen ability to apprehend the truth or
discover a method of salvation is questionable. Indeed, the only certainty available to us is the process of time
itself; our hope is left in ideas such as transmigration, where individuals
constantly enter the cycles of birth and death until we can reestablish the
broken line between ourselves and ultimate reality. It is significant that perennial philosophy leaves human beings
with so many deficits: the gulf between the One and the finite, the division of
human nature, and the serious doubt about human knowledge. These same deficiencies, the products of
perennial duality, will carry over into the consideration of religious
knowledge. In the final analysis, we
will be forced to abandon our world and make a “leap of faith” to reach the
One.
RELIGIOUS KNOWLEDGE
In perennial philosophy, human beings are limited in a number of
ways. We are restricted to the definitions
imposed by the finite; we exist in a closed set of abilities and alternatives,
and our actions are contained within the boundaries of time. In short, man appears to be trapped by the
natural world, cut off from the One, the only measure of Truth. It is at this point that religious knowledge
becomes important: it is the only method of escape from the finite open to
us. In coming to understand the One, we
release ourselves from the tight patterns of the finite; religious knowledge is
the instrument for breaking open the shell of the natural world in order to
come into contact with the source of being.
Perennial philosophy, therefore, has a definite attitude toward
acquiring knowledge of the One: it is a means to an end. It is a way to bring individuals into
harmony with eternal truth. Religious
knowledge is integrated into a perennial system in a functional manner;
consequently, the thrust of perennial thought will be toward discovering the
best method for making contact with the One.
Mystical systems have varying approaches to religious knowledge,
but there is at least one point of common agreement: we cannot reason our way
to an understanding of the One; the resources available in the finite realm are
insufficient. This view is an extension
of the perennial view of human nature wherein man is divided into a higher self
and a lower self; what perennial philosophy implies is that the lower or purely
rational nature of man is too limited to bridge the gap between the finite and
the infinite. A reason offered for this
understanding is that human knowledge is always relative: it depends on human
experience and is hemmed in by the laws of time and change. Man, therefore, can have only an imperfect
understanding of imperfect things.
Thus, it may be argued that perennial uses of reason as ultimately
inadequate. Through the use of reason
one seeks to grasp the infinite; however, the infinite is beyond reason. Therefore, reason is inadequate to grasp the
infinite. Furthermore, assuming that
the infinite is what is real, one does not know truth about the finite,
inasmuch as finite categories cannot grasp the real and truth. All finite knowledge, being about that which
is not ultimately real, is not true nor false, but instead relative.
The perennial criticism of human knowledge, however, extends
beyond practical events in the natural world.
In a larger sense, it can indicate theoretical or abstract knowledge on
the same basis — i.e., that the scope of human reason is equally
limited. In perennial philosophy, reason is an aspect of the “lower” self. It is restricted to operating within the
natural world. The function of reason,
therefore, is to catalogue human experience; it labels events as either true or
false and fits the pieces of human action into one, consistent form. And yet, the problem of reason is the same
as experience: when something is not open to empirical tests, when it cannot be
measured by some law, then the product of human thought becomes relative, its
validity is open to totally subjective interpretation. This has significant consequences for
perennial philosophy, because it means that all systems of thought are placed
on the same plane; there can be no final word in philosophy or religion, since
there is no real test to establish truth.
Philosophy, experience, and reason are all open to contradiction; they
are purely human activities and cannot bridge the gap between finite man and
infinite God.
Thus, the case against reason has been constructed because of
reason’s inherent inability to grasp what is really real. The argument has been supported further by
the observations that reason divides, separates, (and) makes distinctions. Inasmuch as the really real, in the
traditional metaphysical sense, is Oneness (or a variation of this concept),
and because reason forms concepts, even the concept of Oneness itself, unified
reality is shattered, and reason falls short of true reality. Though one reasons about God, for example,
one’s rational propositions rail to grasp that which by its nature cannot be
apprehended. Even the finite concept
“God” violates the real God beyond conceptualization.
The case is further strengthened by the realization that reason
depends upon the distinction between true and false. The very fact that this distinction is bound up with reason
documents the unreliability of this tool; Oneness has again been shattered by
the true‑false classifi- cations.
Extending the argument, the really real is subjected through reason to a
presupposed duality of subject and object; to know something involves a knower
and the known, certainly not a state of Oneness. And, finally, the divine unity is refracted into the various
pairs of opposites; that is, reason results in a choice between opposite
concepts ‑ more duality.
One must transcend reason somehow to know the really real. To be bound to reason dooms one to ignorance
of the real; this process is inadequate to the task of leading an inquirer to
Truth in any ultimate sense. Some might
argue therefore, that an implication of this position is that irrational
creatures and objects have an advantage, inasmuch as they are not subject to
the canons of rationality.
The Ladder
of Ascent
It is at this point that perennial systems begin to introduce
their method, the way to negate natural laws and open human consciousness to
higher reality. This approach proposes
that we must somehow prepare ourselves for union with the One; we must block
out the external pressures of the finite in order to understand or grasp the
infinite. Human beings, therefore, must
abandon associations with and dependence upon the everyday world, so that we
can communicate with the One on a higher level. From this general approach, perennial systems offer various ways
in which a person can attain religious knowledge. The practices of meditation and self‑discipline are common
methods; they intend to produce a specific state where the influence of the
finite world (its desires, passions, and frustrations) are minimized and, we
are left in a type of suspended animation: our senses are focused only on the
One; we are ready to receive divine wisdom.
For those who reject
reason, the “ladder of ascent” to the ultimate may be employed. The first step in this ladder is purgation,
“the ridding of the soul of those practices which disperse it and prevent it
from paying attention.”9 Second, contemplation, leads to “the final
stage in which the presence (of the ultimate) penetrate the beholder.”10
It is important to note that perennial philosophy conditions man
to receive religious knowledge, not acquire it. Ascetic, contemplative methods are designed
only to cleanse the mind, to nullify the contact with finite reality to the
point where true knowledge (often, union) can be accepted. None of these practices impart knowledge by
themselves; they are only the preparations for it.
It is extremely difficult to describe this moment when knowledge
is passed from one realm to another. It
can be referred to as revelation, enlightenment, the moment of truth, or as a
“mystical experience.” These are
descriptive words and simply label that instant when an individual gains
knowledge of the One. If we attempt to
penetrate the experiences of the mystic, it must be done on the condition that
none of the normal modes of thought sustaining us in this world are
applied. Perennial philosophy considers
religious knowledge as the sudden introduction of the Divine into the temporal;
consequently, it is by nature a paradox.
Wisdom from the One counteracts all of the limitations imposed on
reason: man is the recipient of an absolute, not relative Truth. We catch a glimpse of the totality of
existence where there are no limits of time or space and where finite
contradictions are resolved.
The Higher
Level of Knowing
The mystic has transcended the natural world. In the moment of enlightenment, he has
achieved union with the One. Religious
knowledge is a vision of true reality wherein an individual “steps inside” the
One and “sees” Truth. Consequently, one
is released from the cycles of illusory history; one becomes aware not only of
his position in the universe, but the much larger ultimate reality behind it.
This
“final stage” is the higher, trans‑rational level of knowing. In its most efficient and effective stage
(the experience of a mystic), one crosses the bounds of reason and the
rational, beyond all particulars and duality.
The mood is characterized by a turning inward to reach the “moment of
truth,” during which one has transcended the rational and experiences
the One. Clark has described the
mystical experience as follows:
Mysticism is a definite but sporadic state of the religious
consciousness partly active and partly passive, involving an experience so
unusually personal as to deny description in any but the most figurative and
cryptic language. It involves the apprehension
of a trans- cendental Presence which radically influence the individual’s point
of view and way of life. The consequent
passionate devotion to this Presence tends to lead to an extremely unworldly
value system. These values foster
extravagant behavior which nevertheless stimulates integration of the psyche
centered on this devotion.11
The knowledge one attains during this experience is not
rational, not about concepts, nor expressible literally by concepts. Rather, it is beyond conceptualization; it
is “knowledge” in the sense of a union between the knower and the known. The mystery intrinsic to separateness is
overcome. In a religious sense,
salvation then is by this type of knowledge, the awareness of the eternal. Dupre’s observation is thereby confirmed for
perennial view of religion: “The mystical drive to live in the experienced
presence of God (in whatever degree) belongs to the core of all religion.”12
This view of divine wisdom in perennial philosophy introduces two important implications. First, it implies that religious knowledge is not subject to empirical proof. The claims of a mystic cannot be validated or evaluated by any criteria other than faith (or, as one suggested to the writer, by a very subjective appeal to a changed life.) Second, it tends to establish a fraternity among mystics; revelation is reserved for those individuals who successfully follow one method and that method can only be judged by those who have used it. Both of these aspects of perennial thought keep its claims to religious knowledge outside the reach of criticism. Any attack leveled against a perennial system’s view of the One is reduced to a circular argument: you cannot deny what you have not experienced, and you cannot use any rational law as a yardstick to measure the validity of a mystic’s claim. In the final analysis, it is accurate to say that a perennial system is insulated against contradiction; it can always fall back on the duality of existence and simply assert that its knowledge transcends the finite.
Religious Symbols and
Language
There are, however, two more concrete expressions of religious
knowledge that can be examined. In
attempting to explain the content of its religious understanding, a perennial
system may offer some indirect representation of its knowledge of God. This may take the form of a symbol,
something that stands for the higher reality, or of religious language, the
words used to communicate to man the special insight that any system has concerning
the divine.
A scholar cited earlier has applied the following analysis to
religious symbols:
A specifically religious symbol is any word or object in
space and time which stands in a special relation to ultimate reality. . . .A
religious symbol does not establish anything about the nature of reality
but is merely points to what is believed on other grounds to be “really
real” (even though these other grounds are not made explicit). . . . The
specific nature of any religious symbol will therefore depend in part upon the
“reality” it purports to symbolize.13
Within
perennial philosophy, all symbols point beyond themselves to the inexpressible;
they evoke a religious mood more satisfactory a medium than speech or
concepts. All things can be symbols:
Since the everyday
world, no matter how deeply infected with finitude, must have derived
ultimately from the one underlying reality, any material object may upon
occasion become a religious symbol; that is, it may become the bearer of its
own ‘divine ground,’ a window through which the individual apprehends the
infinite. Hence a modern exponent of
this view can say, ‘Symbolic does not mean unreal. It means more real than anything in time and space.’ In the so‑called
‘ecstatic moment,’ the symbol evokes a state in which the cleavage between
knower and known is overcome, consciousness is suspended, and the self in any
recognizable sense is left behind.14
Furthermore, symbols become ambiguous, both revealing and
concealing simultaneously—thus, God is both hidden and revealed equally,
to the extent that “God” points to but fails to conceptualize God.
The function of symbols in religion is to serve as a visual allegory for the sacred. Where this takes the form of a single object or is an admixture of symbolism incorporated into a ritual, the main purpose is to draw man’s attention to the higher reality. To do this, many of the symbolic ceremonies within mystical religion are constructed so that they create a certain mood; their intention is to evoke a response from the observer, to place him into a frame of mind that is sensitive to receiving religious instruction. Within perennial philosophy, the mood set by religious symbolism is often “other worldly”; it is used to suggest the transcendence of the One. In fact, perennial symbolism (in art, music, or architecture) is formulated to prick the conscience of the common man, to remind him that Divinity is far removed from this realm. There is almost a dual purpose to religious symbolism: at the same time, it both represents the One and alludes to the transcendent, “wholly ot