Transcendent Experiences: Phenomenology and Critique 9781442682733

Table of contents :
Contents
Acknowledgments
Introduction
Part 1: A Phenomenological Approach
1. Constituents and Classification
2. Narratives
Part 2: Historic Contributions
3. Kant and the Sublime
4. Schleiermacher and Absolute Dependence
5. Hegel and the Dialectic of the Infinite
6. William James and Religious Experience
7. Rudolf Otto and the Numinous
8. Maréchal, Rahner, and Lonergan
Part 3: The Validity of Transcendent Experiences
9. Basic Concepts I
10. Basic Concepts II
Conclusion
Notes
Selected Bibliography
Index

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TRANSCENDENT EXPERIENCES Phenomenology and Critique

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Transcendent Experiences Phenomenology and Critique

LOUIS ROX O.P.

UNIVERSITY OF TORONTO PRESS Toronto Buffalo London

www.utppublishing.com University of Toronto Press Incorporated 2001 Toronto Buffalo London Printed in Canada ISBN 0-8020-3534-5

Printed on acid-free paper Toronto Studies in Philosophy Editors: James R. Brown and Calvin Normore

National Library of Canada Cataloguing in Publication Data Roy, Louis, 1942Transcendent experiences : phenomenology and critique (Toronto studies in philosophy) Includes bibliographical references and index. ISBN 0-8020-3534-5 1. Experience (Religion). 2. Infinite. 3. Transcendence (Philosophy). I. Title. II. Series. BL53.R69 2001

291.4'2

C00-933274-X

This book has been published with the help of a grant from Boston College University of Toronto Press acknowledges the financial assistance to its publishing program of the Canada Council for the Arts and the Ontario Arts Council. University of Toronto Press acknowledges the financial support for its publishing activities of the Government of Canada through the Book Publishing Industry Development Program (BPIDP).

Contents

Acknowledgments

ix

Introduction xi Part 1: A Phenomenological Approach 1 Constituents and Classification 3 Definition and Elements 4 Types 9 Other Typologies 10 2 Narratives

14

An Instance of Aesthetic Experience 14 An Instance of Ontological Experience 16 An Instance of Ethical Experience 20 An Instance of Interpersonal Experience 22 Part 2: Historic Contributions 3 Kant and the Sublime

27

Phenomenology 28 The Mediation of the Mind 31 The Unfolding of the Mathematical Sublime 37 The Concept of Infinite 40 Summary 45

vi Contents

4 Schleiermacher and Absolute Dependence 47 In the Wake of Kant 47 A Tripartite Division of Human Life 49 Feeling 51 Mediatedness 54 Absolute Dependence 57 The Awareness of the 'Whence' 59 Experience and Objectification 64 Summary 67 5 Hegel and the Dialectic of the Infinite

69

The Rejection of Kant's Infinite 70 Assessment of Hegel's Criticism of Kant 77 The Rejection of Schleiermacher's Absolute Dependence 82 Assessment of Hegel's Criticism of Schleiermacher 86 Summary 87 6 William James and Religious Experience

89

The Four Marks of Mysticism 90 Feeling and Thought 92 The Pragmatic Method 95 The Divine as an Undubitable Object 99 The Will to Believe 101 Summary 103 7 Rudolf Otto and the Numinous

105

Feeling or Emotion? 106 Uniqueness and Ineffability 109 The Non-rational and the Rational 111 The Holy as an A Priori Category 116 A Faculty That Perceives the Numinous 120 Summary 123 8 Marechal, Rahner, and Lonergan

125

From the Transcendental to the Transcendent 125 Fascination with the Mystery 128 Examples 130

Contents vii Four Levels of Consciousness 132 Feeling 135 Immediacy and Mediation 137 Religious Experience and Conversion 139 Summary 140 Part 3: The Validity of Transcendent Experiences 9 Basic Concepts I 145 Experience 146 Intentionality and Transcendence 151 Indefiniteness and the Infinite 156 Summary 160 10 Basic Concepts II 161 Feeling and Discovery 161 Interpretation 166 Directness and Mediation 175 Summary 181 Conclusion

184

Notes 189 Selected Bibliography 211 Index 217

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Acknowledgments

This work has been long in the making. In the spring of 1990 Boston College gave me a grant and a leave of absence that allowed me to begin researching and writing on the topic. My sincere gratitude goes to students and colleagues, especially to Professors Charles C. Hefling and James M. Weiss, who have found my views on transcendent experiences interesting and have voiced both words of encouragement and pertinent criticisms. For having passed comments on earlier drafts of parts of this book, I thank Mr William Gregory, Dr James LeGrys, Professors Henry A. Blackwell, Oliva Blanchette, Richard Cobb-Stevens, Harvey D. Egan, S.J., Thomas J. Owens, Patrick J. Ryan, S.J., and John E. Thiel. I am also greatly indebted to the UTP's readers for their useful suggestions and corrections on the whole manuscript. The index is Mr Michael Mothes's much appreciated contribution. For the many books that I was able to obtain through the Interlibrary Loan Department at O'Neill Library, Boston College, I am very grateful to Ms Margaret J. McDonough and her first-rate staff. The publisher and I are thankful to the editors and publishers of the following periodicals, where parts of this book are foreshadowed. Chapter 3 is an expanded version of 'Kant's Reflections on the Sublime and the Infinite/ Kant-Studien 88 (1997): 44-59 (Walter de Gruyter); chapter 4 incorporates two sections of 'Consciousness according to Schleiermacher/ Journal of Religion 77 (1997): 217-32 (University of Chicago Press).

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Introduction

Sociological surveys report that a significant percentage of the Australian, British, and North-American population (from 35 per cent up to 50 per cent) recall having had a transcendent experience at least once in their life.1 A transcendent experience can be characterized as an event in which individuals, by themselves or in a group, have the impression that they are in contact with something boundless and limitless, which they cannot grasp, and which utterly surpasses human capacities. While many reach a positive judgment regarding the status of what has been apprehended, others discount such incidents as purely subjective and as not indicative of anything real. In contrast to this dismissive attitude, I should like to look at such experiences favourably and interpret them in accord with thinkers who envision the human self as essentially open to the infinite.2 It must be conceded, at the outset, that transcendent experiences are of unequal value and that several are fraught with psychiatric problems or wild theories. However, the fact that mentally ill people are sometimes attracted to poetry or mysticism should not invalidate these realms of human excellence. It is precisely because of this ambiguity that the literature of the great religious traditions offers guidelines enabling their practitioners to recognize and often escape the pitfalls. Every time one pronounces on the validity of a particular case, traditional criteria of discernment must be applied. This book, however, is concerned with the validity of transcendent experience in general - that is, with the basic reasons why it can be non-illusory. To meet this concern we must answer a number of questions: How is a transcendent experience conditioned and prepared? What is the role of feeling? Can we identify a core discovery that has a cognitional content? Is there

xii Introduction such a thing as an initial, quasi-ineffable apprehension, different from subsequent interpretations? Must mystical events be mediated? Underlying all such inquiry is the principal question, can there be a human experience of the infinite? In this book, I argue for an affirmative answer, and base that argument on a clarification of transcendent experience as we find it at its best. I try to explain why such experience can be a most valuable component of human existence. I contend only that it can be so, even though popular religion often makes it very ambiguous indeed. My argument includes the following considerations. First, that the question of the infinite, in its various forms (scientific, artistic, philosophic, religious), is an intelligent one that must not be brushed aside. Second, that human intentionality is an intersubjective capacity for reaching out to what exists; when such intentionality feels that it is in the presence of the mystery, it does encounter a reality. Third, that as it accompanies knowing, emotion enhances a person's response to reality. The feeling of being in touch with something absolutely transcendent is the affective side of an intentionality oriented toward the mystery. Finally, that in light of so many mystical texts - across world religions which display a sense that an incomparable gift has been offered to the human race, we ought to say that most of the time transcendent experiences are vehicles of grace. Each of these four convictions will be argued, particularly in the last two chapters. As will be evident, my views are coloured by the fact that I am a Roman Catholic. However, my deepest wish is to bring together the long-standing interest of Protestant writers in concrete religious experiences and the more recent thoughts on this issue by contemporary Catholic thinkers. In order to facilitate this encounter, I have decided not to write a theological book but rather to make a contribution to the philosophy of religion, because it is in this area that much of the dialogue can more easily take place. More precisely, part 1 will start with the phenomena, or lived experience, and provisionally bracket out the issue of the existence of the infinite.3 In narratives, we will discern recurrent elements and basic types, and thus develop a phenomenology of transcendent experience. Christian theologians who prefer to begin with christology should consider the openness of the fourth type of transcendent experience to the mediation of Christ. Note also that the distinction (explained in chapter 1) between spontaneous and later reflection on the meaning of spiritual events allows any of these to be reinterpreted in the light of a

Introduction xiii particular religious figure (Moses, Buddha, Jesus, and so on). The thrust of my enterprise is clearly in the direction of a theology of the Holy Spirit, as Karl Barth suggested in his final appreciation of Schleiermacher.4 Phenomenological reports and analyses of transcendent experience may be seen by many Christians and non-Christians alike as fleshing out their intimations of the Spirit's action in our contemporary world. A clear distinction will also be made between transcendent experiences and the personal transformation that sometimes ensues from them. This transformation or conversion, which may be called the fruit, is the ultimate element of the whole process. Abstracting from it (except in part 1 and in the conclusion, where its importance is underlined) will simplify our effort to record, classify, and interpret the recurrent features of transcendent experiences in themselves. In part 2 of this book, a review of historic contributions will commence with Kant, who constitutes a watershed in Western thought. After Kant, we set forth the positions of subsequent works which are considered classics on the experience of the infinite. This section will not be the comprehensive survey offered by historians. Useful volumes exist which connect great thinkers with the culture of their epoch. My aim is different: to propound what I think are major visions seeking to account for the significance of the human approaches to the infinite; to uncover the dialectic at work among the most typical modern philosophers and theologians who have written on the subject matter; and to build up my own argument in dialogue with them. Consequently, I do not treat all possible writers on the topic.5 Perhaps some readers will be disappointed by the absence of non-Westerners in this book. Although I have done extensive readings in Eastern mysticism, presenting their views here would render this discussion too long.6 I say little about the late-nineteenth- and early-twentieth-century attempt to make up for the diminishing cogency of demonstrating the existence of God or the immortality of the soul. As atheism and agnosticism spread in the Western world, many had recourse to religious experience as an intuitive certainty which could reassure doubting believers. We find this suggestion in Arthur Abell's interviews with great musicians, in some of the narratives transcribed by William James, and in Rudolf Otto's reflections on the numinous.7 Personally, I forego any affective proof such as the ones these authors suggest, although this study will establish how the emotional side of a human intentionality essentially open to the transcendent fits in with

xiv Introduction its intellectual side. Inspired by the thinkers who will be introduced in part 2,1 try, in part 3, to ground the human openness to the infinite in transcendental anthropology. The attainment of this goal entails an elucidation of the basic concepts that make up a philosophy of religious transcendence: experience; transcendence and intentionality; indefiniteness; our finitude-infinitude and the infinite; feeling and discovery; interpretation; and mediated immediacy. Accordingly, in part 3, we move from what Paul Ricoeur calls the phenomenological discourse (adopted in part 1) to what he calls the ontological discourse.8 The latter is required whenever one wants to assess the validity of the categories that underpin lived experience and to tackle the question of whether the infinite to which we claim that the human person is open actually exists. To sum up, our procedure will expand according to three stages: phenomenological, historical, and systematic. The first part of the book analyses the elements intrinsic to transcendent experience, introduces a fourfold classification, discusses other typologies, and presents narratives. The second part ponders the reflections of some modern Western thinkers on the sense of the infinite. While assessing their differing views, we will think our way through to a resolution of the basic epistemological problems that must be faced. Finally, the third part endeavours to cull and weave together the various points that were made in dialogue with the selected authors.

PARTI A Phenomenological Approach

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Chapter 1

Constituents and Classification

The phenomenon to be highlighted has been diversely identified: the feeling of absolute dependence (Schleiermacher), cosmic consciousness (Bucke), religious experience (James), the sense of the numinous (Otto), the experience of transcendence (Rahner), peak experience (Maslow), the dimension of ultimacy (Gilkey), signal of transcendence (Berger), ecstatic experience (Tracy), and so forth.1 This kind of experience is neither a particular increase in insight and knowledge nor a helpful pious affection, although these are also part of religion. Rather, it consists in discovering afresh, as if taken by surprise, an uncanny dimension of reality, an uncircumscribed realm to which one feels open. It is the awareness of being in contact with something that lies beyond one's normal control, power, or understanding. In this book, transcendent experience will refer to this phenomenon. It partially overlaps with religious, mystical, and praeternatural phenomena. Yet, it differs from religious experience because, for church members, the latter covers a larger spectrum of religious acts and does not always include the affective recognition of something ultimate (which, in my opinion, is typical of transcendent experience). However, from the perspective of people with no denominational affiliation, the difference would be that transcendent experience is broader, since it may occur either within or outside a religious context (understood as a matter of interpretation and practice). Furthermore, transcendent experience is only the beginning of mystical life and therefore should not to be equated with mysticism. If, in the course of our survey of the numerous meanings that transcendent experience takes on, the adjectives 'religious' and 'mystical' are employed, they will simply conform with the usage of authors who actually mean what the adjective 'transcend-

4 Part 1: A Phenomenological Approach ent' here conveys. Finally, transcendent experiences are not the same thing as praeternatural phenomena. Following R.C. Zaehner, a distinction will be made between transcendent experiences and Visions, auditions, locutions, telepathy, telekinesis, or any other praeternatural phenomenon.'2 In a parallel fashion, Andrew Greeley distinguishes 'the parapsychical' and 'the mystical'; the former includes 'Deja Vu, Extrasensory Perception, and Clairvoyance' (his chapter 2) and 'Contact with the Dead' (his chapter 3).3 Whenever praeternatural (also called parapsychical or psychical) phenomena convey a clear sense of the unbounded, they coexist with transcendent experiences. The same overlapping may take place with near-death experiences, which sometimes are transcendent.4 In this enquiry, I have chosen not to enter into the intricate problems of praeternatural phenomena, so as to centre on ordinary events - sometimes sober, sometimes vivid - that open up to the infinite. This chapter comprises three sections. First, a working definition of transcendent experiences will be offered and their components spelled out in such a way that readers may appreciate their richness. Second, a typology will be presented, so that we can realize how varied they are. Finally, other typologies will be discussed. Definition and Elements A full explication of transcendent experience will be made in part 3 of this book. Yet, the elucidation of our phenomenology requires a provisional definition here: Transcendent experience is an apprehension of the infinite through feeling, in a particular circumstance. It is an apprehension -

that is, some sort of awareness or intuitive knowledge - which captures an individual's or a group's attention because it is driven home by a peculiar kind of feeling. Feeling colours our response to something that looks immense. When we get in touch with an infinite quantity or quality, we may have the impression that this dimension goes beyond the limits of 'normal' life, that it cannot be artificially restricted and that it should command utter respect. Awakening may result from a void or a fulfilment. It is preceded by a period of rumination on some vexing issue. More directly, it proceeds from a psychological and existential situation, is associated with some circumstance, and is sparked by a specific occasion.5 It is conditioned and channelled by an interpretive and emotional frame of reference, and it may be followed by a significant change in one's life. These

Constituents and Classification 5 observations suggest that transcendent experience encompasses six elements: the preparation, the immediate occasion, the predominant feeling, the discovery, the interpretation, and the fruit. Let us go on to a more analytical characterization of these six elements. First, the preparation is the cognitive and affective setting that conditions - without inflexibly determining - the forthcoming experience. It is constituted by the lifestyle, personality views, concerns, problems, and questions of an individual or a group. Such a frame of mind orients what will eventually happen. Before the decisive event takes place, one is under the influence of some anticipation, which Rudolf Bultmann calls a Vorverstandnis, a 'pre-understanding.'6 This basic predisposition has to do with one's possibilities, openness, ability to receive a certain revelation about one's existence. The preparation is both long and short range. Its span may encompass years, weeks, or only a few days, during which time something has been fermenting in the personal life of the recipient of transcendent experience. However, the experiences' readiness is also enhanced by the psychological and existential situation - often marked by uneasiness, tension, or even struggle - in which they find themselves, immediately before the occasion is given. Second, the occasion is that which sets off the experience. It can be an action, a person, a vista, a painting, a musical piece, a vision, a dream, a phrase heard or recalled, a shock, or good or bad news. Walter Houston Clark refers to such things as 'triggers.' He sees them as 'internal events physiological and neurological in character' and mentions sensory deprivation, exhaustion, fasting, the use of a special diet, and even certain drugs.7 To adopt a metaphor taken from chemistry, the occasion functions as a precipitating factor. It can bring about a sudden release of tension and thus facilitate the emergence of a strikingly novel feeling. The occasion belongs in our everyday world. As Peter Berger says, 'By signals of transcendence I mean phenomena that are to be found within the domain of our "natural" reality but that appear to point beyond that reality.'8 At this phenomenological stage of our presentation, it would be premature to ask whether the causes are suprahuman. This question will be considered in our last chapter. Third, to describe the kind of feeling that lies at the core of transcendent experience, I shall cite the French phenomenologist Mikel Dufrenne.9 Although he does not envision transcendent experience, the aesthetic feeling that he describes is nevertheless, in my opinion, what is closest to the feeling of transcendence. We may therefore start with this anal-

6 Part 1: A Phenomenological Approach ogy. The feeling he presents belongs in the aesthetic sphere and differs from three other orientations which human intentionality can adopt: mere presence to the perceived object, theoretical representation, and the emotion that leads to action. Aesthetic feeling goes much further than mere presence to the perceived object, because it penetrates into the intimacy and depth of the object. Far from consisting in the superficial glance of the spectator, such a penetration calls for commitment, inferiority, and communion on the part of the experiencing subject. Aesthetic participants let themselves be reached by the object of art and respond to it with their whole being. A mutual gift is exchanged between subject and object. 'The aesthetic object does not really belong to me unless I belong to it.'10 For this to happen, I must yield to it with generosity, trust, fervour, and indeed love. Nor is the aesthetic feeling a matter of representation. The latter analyses, sorts out, abstracts, separates. Of course, such reflection must prepare and prolong artistic appreciation. In this sense, the study of art alternates with aesthetic experience proper. But it is definitely not a stage in the experience itself. Briefly: the world is felt; in representation, it is thought. Dufrenne also distinguishes between emotion - the wellspring of action - and artistic feeling. In practical living, emotion provokes human reaction; in art, feeling leads to contemplation. The author remarks that the emotion of fear is not to be confused with the feeling of the horrible;11 that merriment is not the feeling of the comic; that terror and pity are not the feeling of the tragic. In each case, the former is typical of real life whereas the latter is part and parcel of an artistic remoulding of affective possibilities. Artistic feeling imparts a special kind of knowing (connaissance), a direction or sense (sens). 'Thus Racine possesses the sense of the tragic, as does Daumier that of the grotesque, and Wagner that of the marvelous.'12 The three characteristics ascribed by Dufrenne to aesthetic feeling also apply to transcendent experiences. Their quality is incompatible with mere presence to a perceived object or with theoretical representation. Moreover, they foster contemplation more directly than they can bring about action. The kind of depth and response that we observe in transcendent experiences is therefore very similar to the kind found in aesthetic feeling. The fourth element that is common to all transcendent experiences the discovery - amounts to what Ian T. Ramsey calls a cosmic disclosure.

Constituents and Classification 7 A disclosure is an insight, a discernment which strikes home. Such a disclosure has a cosmic import when it suddenly hits on something whose significance is unrestricted. A particular situation comes alive and takes on extraordinary depth. We are aware of something declaring itself to us, confronting, engaging, and challenging us. Ramsey therefore insists that rather than being merely emotional or subjective, such a situation has an objective reference.13 Similarly, Dufrenne's phenomenology by no means rules out objectivity.14 For him, the human subject's aesthetic experience is correlative to an object. He highlights the noetic function of feeling, which reveals a world: 'we cannot open up a world and open ourselves to that world except in one and the same movement.'15 It is feeling that opens up this twofold experience. Because of its cognitive import, feeling allows people to encounter something objective, something that lies beyond themselves, as they relate to objects of art. Such is the analogy with aesthetic experience, which we find in Dufrenne. However, since we are concerned with transcendence, we must stress the aspect of the feeling-discovery that differs from what we learn from aesthetics. It is the impression of being in touch with something that absolutely transcends us. This quite general phrase appears to be the most encompassing for pointing to what so many narratives convey. Most often, authors of those narratives do not reduce this mysterious unknown to a perceived object. They prefer to talk of an undefinable dimension or presence. Most importantly, they distinguish the occasion - which indeed may be a perceived object - from what it triggers: the feeling of being open to something absolutely transcendent. The feeling in question has a special property: the capacity to suggest the presence of an unlimited reality, possibly called life, light, love, goodness, cosmos, and so forth. This property marks it off from artistic experiences as well as from ordinary religious emotions, which do not include this sense of the infinite. We must observe that the difference between them is not a matter of intensity, since some powerful feelings do not refer to anything transcendent. However, the feeling that opens up to the infinite, even though it is not always overwhelming, cannot pass unnoticed. Of course, the beneficiaries of the experience often do not find the words with which to talk about it. In itself, the discovery remains inchoate. Nonetheless, such people indicate that they are aware of having been touched, moved, and grasped in a unique way, and of having discovered something highly significant.

8 Part 1: A Phenomenological Approach The fifth element is interpretation, that is, reflection. Dufrenne underlines the indispensability of such thinking, when he emphasizes the complementarity between feeling and the reflective act.16 The interpretation which follows the transcendent experience can be sorted into two stages. First, there is the awareness of that which has just occurred. Such reflection is not very different from elementary mirroring of the event, which is simply reflected, without yet being reflected upon. We try to find words to name our feeling and discovery. The second form of reflection goes farther. Because we want to understand what has happened, account for its significance, and situate it with respect to the rest of human life, we cannot but explicate it. Intuition yields to wonder, even questioning the truth or validity of what has taken place, and eventually assessing and even ratifying it. As time goes on and circumstances change, we may slowly modify our interpretation and see our transcendent experience in a new light. Both kinds of reflection are conditioned by the mental framework that people had before the experience. To express the new experience, they inevitably have recourse to images, concepts, and words which are familiar. Such intellectual baggage shapes thinking. However, the experience need not be restricted within a fixed worldview. Under the impact of a striking event, a person may utilize images, concepts, and words in a creative fashion. One can be innovative in the way one accounts for one's experience. A personal narrative that purports to stay very close to the actual occurrence may be very moving. On the other hand, the interpretation can be conveyed by novel combinations of symbols in prose, poetry, drama, painting, sculpture, architecture, ballet, music, oratorio, liturgical ritual, or other media. These channels help us discover anew how mystery impinges on human consciousness. They are equivalent to what Carl Gustav Jung calls the visionary mode of artistic creation, in contrast to the more readily intelligible and yet less profound psychological mode. The object of such vision lies beyond the psychic life of the individual; it belongs to a primordial experience that reveals itself in the imagery of the collective unconscious.17 The sixth and last element in transcendent experience is the fruit that is, the benefit that a person obtains from it, in terms of knowing, wisdom, attitude, and motivation. It may consist of a personal transformation, a conversion, a response to a mysterious imperative immanent in the experience. If we take into consideration the time factor, we can distinguish between a fruit that comes right after the experience, and a

Constituents and Classification 9 fruit that requires time to ripen. The latter is a fruit in a tree that has been cultivated for a long while. As we shall discover, William James and Karl Rahner were very concerned with this element of religious experience. Types After delineating the six elements that are common to all transcendent experiences, one may ask if it is possible to classify them. I submit that there are four main types: aesthetic, ontological, ethical, and interpersonal. The distinctiveness of each type depends on the occasion, which orients the experiencers towards a particular aspect of reality. Even in the preparation, one can detect an anticipation of some sort which will make the occasion significant. The key factor may be, in the aesthetic type, an uneasiness regarding one's place in the sensory world; in the ontological type, an intellectual question; in the ethical type, a moral concern; and in the interpersonal type, a longing for communion. Each of these factors imprints an orientation on human intentionality and thus elicits a particular sort of response, or discovery made through feeling. As the narratives to be presented in the next chapter will show, humans are capable of reacting to several aspects of reality: the physical cosmos, the realm of meaning, the truth of values, or the fact of love. Since something of the utmost importance is revealed, the adjective that characterizes each type must be understood analogically. The 'aesthetic' is more than natural wonder at the beauty or ugliness of the world around us; the 'ontological' is more than what Heidegger rightly repudiates as metaphysics or ontotheology; the 'ethical' is more than secular morality; and the 'interpersonal' is more than a privileged relationship among human persons. In other words, far from being selfenclosed, the aesthetic, ontological, ethical, or interpersonal setting is a springboard from which one is projected towards a limitless expanse. The first type - the aesthetic - occurs in connection with nature or the cosmos. It may begin in the enjoyment of a harmony within nature, or in the dread of something utterly threatening. What ensues is either the sense of being part of an encompassing whole, or the feeling of safety that derives from taking refuge in the totally reliable. The second type the ontological - consists in feeling intellectually secure and grounded in a being that lies beyond contingency and nothingness. In this case, what is discovered is linked with questions of meaning. The third

10 Part 1: A Phenomenological Approach type - the ethical or valuational - is an apprehension of a value, such as justice, solidarity, kindness. The absolute truthfulness of the value is reassuring, whereas its absence is painfully felt. The fourth type - the interpersonal - stems from the quest for loving and includes the sense of a special presence. It consists in the certainty that love is validated by the very fabric of the universe, against all appearances to the contrary. These four kinds of response are not to be construed as successive stages in the life of an individual or a group. Rather, they are types, which are sorted out here by paying attention to the main factor that triggers them. Moreover, specified though each type can be, it possesses traits that can overlap with those of other types. In other words, the four basic types are distinct, while some of their features may at times be common. One of the advantages of this fourfold typology is that it provides a philosophical support for a view frequently expressed by mystics and scholars. According to them, far from being equally mature, transcendent experiences belong to various levels of religious development. The many avenues that lead to an encounter with the infinite are of unequal scope. There is an ascending hierarchy from the first to the fourth type. The higher types can integrate the lower and thus display some of their characteristics. The types are not impervious to one another. For example, the God of Abraham, met at an interpersonal level, does not exclude the God of the philosophers, with whom an intellectual pursuit may be concerned. Similarly, the God encountered in history (on the level of values) can be seen as more fully revealed than, albeit the same as, the God found in nature. In principle, the higher types of transcendent experience are more promising than the lower in terms of enlightenment and conversion. At times, however, a lower type may be more intense than a higher, and hence may prove more decisive, at least in the short run. Other Typologies Let us now turn our attention to the typologies that have been discussed in the last seventy-five years. They seem to originate in a suggestion made by Rudolf Otto, who proposes a tripartite account. He begins by differentiating the mystical (an experience of unity) and the numinous (an encounter with the Other). After this he subdivides the mystical into 'the mysticism of unifying vision' ('the outward way')

Constituents and Classification 11 and 'the mysticism of introspection' ('the inward way').18 Philip C. Almond felicitously characterizes the latter two as 'mystical experience with the eyes open' and 'mystical experience with the eyes closed.'19 As an illustration, Otto suggests that Schleiermacher's mysticism is twofold and can be encompassed within Otto's 'two ways/ which purportedly sum up worldwide mysticism.20 According to Otto, in Schleiermacher's Speeches on Religion, the mysticism is outward. It is based on a vision, an intuition of the universe, of the whole, of a unity in the manifold. In the transient, temporal, and finite world, he sees an underlying principle that gives it a permanent, eternal, and infinite character. Otto says that this spiritual mysticism is akin to, but also quite different from, the more emotional and diffuse nature-mysticism of German romanticism. Although Schleiermacher's Christian Faith does not repudiate this outward mysticism, another kind of mysticism predominates, whose path leads inward. It is not so much a mysticism of the whole as it is a mysticism of the soul. The key experience is no longer described as the intuition of the universe, but as a determination of inner feeling, as immediate self-consciousness. Notwithstanding the fact that this soulmysticism is more conspicuous in Schleiermacher's later writings, Otto also observes it in Schleiermacher's Soliloquies (Monologen), which were published in 1800, only one year after the Speeches.21 I would insist that both forms of mysticism are present throughout Schleiermacher's career. He fuses them not only in The Christian Faith, but already at the time of the Speeches. To see this, the reader should consider the texts quoted in chapter 4 on Schleiermacher - texts which show the continuity between those two periods insofar as the experience of absolute dependence is concerned. Unfortunately, in § 8 of his Appendix on Schleiermacher, Otto sees contrasts between the two works that a more careful reading does not substantiate. Those contrasts have much to do with Otto's preference for the Speeches over The Christian Faith.

As Otto correctly remarks, the two distinct ways leading to the divine often merge in the mystic's experience. He notes that Shankara and Eckhart combine the outward and the inward forms.22 The fact that the two kinds of mysticism can flow into each other is also noted incidentally by R.C. Zaehner, who, as he contrasts soul mysticism and nature mysticism, nevertheless concedes that the Buddhist state of changeless peace is not wholly unconnected with cosmic consciousness.23

12 Part 1: A Phenomenological Approach In sum, Otto distinguishes two kinds of mysticism: the outward way, and the inward way to which he adds his own favourite type, called the numinous. This third type will be investigated in chapter 7. In Mysticism Sacred and Profane, Zaehner also proposes a threefold division which matches Otto's tripartite schema, although he does not mention the similarity. Zaehner distinguishes nature mysticism (a cosmic consciousnesss in which everything is experienced as one), soul mysticism (wherein no awareness remains of any frontier between the soul and the divine), and theistic mysticism (an interpersonal relationship between the believer and God). Zaehner has rendered a great service to the scholarly community by insisting on the distinctiveness of each of these three kinds of mysticism. He has decisively rooted out the erroneous assumption that at its core mystical experience is always the same. Walter Stace acknowledges only the first two types (which he calls extrovertive and introvertive mysticism) as corresponding with a genuine experience. He and Ninian Smart take the third one - the theistic to be a matter of mere interpretation and thus reducible to the other two.24 Stace's construal of the relationship between experience and interpretation has been widely criticized. (We will return to Stace in chapter 10.) For the moment, let me just mention that a perceptive commentator, Nelson Pike, sides with Stace and Smart in maintaining that Zaehner's criteria for theistic mysticism do not derive from the way mystics live their experience but from the way they interpret it. But Pike convincingly adds that theistic mysticism must nevertheless be considered as a distinct type, out of criteria stemming from the lived experience itself.25 Otto's examination of Schleiermacher shows that the latter's religious feeling combines monistic and dualistic traits. Indeed, doesn't the experience of dependence presuppose both extrovertive and introvertive factors? As we shall discover at length in the development of our enquiry, transcendent experience is extrovertive inasmuch as it relies on the imagination, and is introvertive inasmuch as it flows from the potentiality of the human spirit. In other words, the imagination opens itself to a limitless space, while the spirit has a sense of an inner kinship with the divine. I would venture to add (1) that the aesthetic type is more extrovertive, since it results from a concern regarding one's place in the physical universe; (2) that the ontological type is more introvertive, since it has to do with the soul, namely the meaning of one's spiritual existence;

Constituents and Classification 13 (3) that the ethical does not seem to be adequately accounted for in the above-mentioned typologies; and (4) that in the measure that it becomes fully articulated, the interpersonal tends to be theistic. I do not find the current typological debate directly helpful for a classification of transcendent experiences. No doubt the material is most interesting.26 And a great deal of this material corresponds with our definition of transcendent experience. However, our definition amounts neither to a common denominator nor to an additional kind of mystical state. In Anglo-American philosophy of religion, the present discussion of typologies purports to cover the whole range of mystical states. By contrast, my intention here is to highlight - without unduly extolling it - an experience that cuts across those states as it concentrates on a specific apprehension, that is, the sense that an infinite is actually present. This specific apprehension is variously found in the four principal types of transcendent experience, each of which we will now consider.

Chapter 2

Narratives

As suggested in the preceding chapter, the four types of transcendent experience - aesthetic, ontological, ethical, and interpersonal - are specified by the circumstance in which they arise. They are sorted out thanks to the precipitating factor that shapes the way the basic discovery takes place. This is not to imply that each type is totally different from the three others. On the contrary, while every one of these types is stamped by what triggers it, it may, as I have noted above, share several characteristics with the other types. The time has come now to illustrate the phenomenology developed in chapter 1 by introducing four narratives. As we examine each of them, I shall endeavour to point out the six elements of a transcendent experience: preparation, occasion, feeling, discovery, interpretation and fruit. An Instance of Aesthetic Experience Clark Moustakas, a psychologist and essayist, writes: Many times I have found courage and strength and beauty through loneliness, in an experience with nature. One day I was feeling deeply depressed by the severe criticisms a colleague had received - a person who was living his life in an honest and truthful sense, attempting to express his unique nature in his work. I felt especially saddened when I realized how he had suffered, when all he wanted to do was maintain a personal and creative identity, a genuine existence and relatedness. I felt especially sensitive to pretense and surface behavior. Nothing was real. It disturbed me to see each situation as contrived, as feigned. Yet I could not call forth

Narratives 15 my own being even where there was a possibility for a genuine meeting. A numbness had settled in, right at the center of my thought and feeling. That night even the children were unable to shake my grief and sadness. In their own spontaneous, unknowing ways, they tugged and pulled at me to draw me into life, but for me there remained only suffering in the world. After the children had gone to bed, I decided to go for a walk. The night was dark, filled with black clouds. Large white flakes of snow fell on and around me. Inside, a surging restlessness replaced my benumbed state. The night was silent and serene in spite of the atmospheric turbulence. Suddenly, without understanding in any way, I experienced a transcendental beauty in the white darkness. It was difficult to walk on the glazed, iced surface, but as I walked I felt drawn to the black, inky streaks embedded in the treacherous ice. Dark wavy lines spread out in grotesque forms which were partly covered by snow. I knelt down, touching the black, irregular patterns and letting them enter inside me. Immediately I felt a chill but at the same time I felt the ice being warmed as my fingers touched it. It was a moment of communion, an experience of knowing and understanding, and a feeling of complete solace. I felt my inward heaviness lifting, and discovered a new capacity for exertion and endurance, for openly and directly facing conflicts which existed around and in me. I realized how, out of broken roots and fibers, how out of deep loneliness, a genuine encounter may occur and make possible the discovery of a new level of individual identity and new strength and conviction. I realized how the self can be shattered in surface and false meetings when surrounded by extensive pressures to conform, and how in communion with nature the self can reach a new dimension of optimism and a new recognition of the creative way of life. Possibilities for unique and unusual meetings exist everywhere. We need only reach out in natural covering [sic] to come face to face with creation.1 The preparation for this vivid realization is the impact upon the author of unfair criticisms levelled at an esteemed colleague. As a result, Moustakas succumbs to a mood of depression, numbness, and disconnection vis-a-vis others, including his children. The occasion that makes the experience aesthetic is his contact with nature in the course of a walk. His numbness is replaced by restlessness as his inner state contrasts with the silence and serenity of the night. While he is in physical contact with the snowy ice, the central feeling of his transcendent experience emerges: total relief from his inward heaviness.

16 Part 1: A Phenomenological Approach That feeling conveys his basic discovery: he is in communion with nature and its creative potential. His interpretation is that by having 'come face to face with creation/ he has reached 'a new level of individual identity/ Finally, the fruit is a liberation from the tendency to pretend and conform, 'a new capacity for exertion and endurance, for openly and directly facing conflicts/ 'a new dimension of optimism and a new recognition of the creative way of life.' What makes this aesthetic experience also a transcendent one? The experience evinces an openness to the infinite creative power of nature and life. 'I experienced a transcendental beauty in the white darkness.' And so he characterizes his solace as 'complete.' An Instance of Ontological Experience The following episode is reported by Arthur Koestler, a Hungarian writer who was detained in a Spanish jail for fighting against the Fascists. §1.1 was standing at the recessed window of cell No. 40 and, with a piece of iron-spring that I had extracted from the wire mattress, was scratching mathematical formulae on the wall. Mathematics, in particular analytical geometry, had been the favourite hobby of my youth, neglected later on for many years. I was trying to remember how to derive the formula of the hyperbola, and was stumped; then I tried the elipse and the parabola, and to my delight succeeded. Next I went to recall Euclid's proof that the number of primes is infinite. § 2. 'Primes' are numbers which are not divisible, like 3, 17, and so on. One would imagine that, as we get higher in the numerical series, primes would get rarer, crowded out by the ever-increasing products of small numbers, and that finally we would arrive at a very high number which would be the highest prime, the last numerical virgin. Euclid's proof demonstrates in a simple and elegant way that this is not so, and that to whatever astronomical regions we ascend in the scale, we shall always find numbers which are not the product of smaller ones, but are generated by immaculate conception, as it were. Since I had become acquainted with Euclid's proof at school, it had always filled me with a deep satisfaction that was aesthetic rather than intellectual. Now, as I recalled the method and scratched the symbols on the wall, I felt the same enchantment. § 3. And then, for the first time, I suddenly understood the reason for this enchantment: the scribbled symbols on the wall represented one of the

Narratives 17 rare cases when a meaningful and comprehensive statement about the infinite is arrived at by precise and finite means. The infinite is a mystical mass shrouded in a haze; and yet it was possible to gain some knowledge of it without losing oneself in treacly ambiguities. The significance of this swept over me like a wave. The wave had originated in an articulate verbal insight; but this evaporated at once, leaving in its wake only a wordless essence, a fragrance of eternity, a quiver of the arrow in the blue. I must have stood there for some minutes, entranced, with a wordless awareness that 'this is perfect - perfect'; until I noticed some slight mental discomfort nagging at the back of my mind - some trivial circumstance that marred the perfection of the moment. Then I remembered the nature of that irrelevant annoyance: I was, of course, in prison and might be shot. But this was immediately answered by a feeling whose verbal translation would be: 'So what? is that all? have you got nothing more serious to worry about?' - an answer so spontaneous, fresh and amused as if the intruding annoyance had been the loss of a collar-stud. Then I was floating on my back in a river of peace, under bridges of silence. It came from nowhere and flowed nowhere. Then there was no river and no I. The I had ceased to exist. § 4. It is extremely embarrassing to write down a phrase like that when one has read The Meaning of Meaning and nibbled at logical positivism and aims at verbal precision and dislikes nebulous gushing. Yet, 'mystical' experiences, as we dubiously call them, are not nebulous, vague or maudlin - they only become so when we debase them by verbalisation. However, to communicate what is incommunicable by its nature, one must somehow put it into words, and so one moves in a vicious circle. When I say 'the I had ceased to exist,' I refer to a concrete experience that is verbally as incommunicable as the feeling aroused by a piano concerto, yet just as real - only much more real. In fact, its primary mark is the sensation that this state is more real than any other one has experienced before - that for the first time the veil has fallen and one is in touch with 'real reality,' the hidden order of things, the X-ray texture of the world, normally obscured by layers of irrelevancy. § 5. What distinguishes this type of experience from the emotional entrancements of music, landscapes or love is that the former has a definitely intellectual, or rather noumenal, content. It is meaningful, though not in verbal terms. Verbal transcriptions that come nearest to it are: the unity and interlocking of everything that exists, an inter-dependence like that of gravitational fields or communicating vessels. The T ceases to exist because it has, by a kind of mental osmosis, established communication

18 Part 1: A Phenomenological Approach with, and been dissolved in, the universal pool. It is this process of dissolution and limitless expansion which is sensed as the 'oceanic feeling,' as the draining of all tension, the absolute catharsis, the peace that passeth all understanding.2 The preparation for this transcendent experience is twofold. First, Koestler is confined to a cell and risks being executed. Second, he mentions his long-term interest in mathematics, particularly in mathematical formulae.3 (The next chapter - on Kant - will provide us with an opportunity to examine the mathematical infinite more in detail.) The occasion, which makes the experience 'ontological' and gives it 'a definitely intellectual, or rather noumenal, content' (§ 5), amounts to 'Euclid's proof that the number of primes is infinite' (§1). While this proof had always filled him with a deep satisfaction, it becomes a more intense occasion as he suddenly understands the reason for this enchantment. It consists in the fact that 'a meaningful and comprehensive statement about the infinite is arrived at by precise and finite means' (§3). This insight entails an intellectual shock: 'The significance of this swept over me like a wave.' The mathematical contemplation expands into a vivid realization of eternal beauty: 'The wave had originated in an articulate verbal insight; but this evaporated at once, leaving in its wake only a wordless essence, a fragrance of eternity, a quiver of the arrow in the blue' (§ 3). At the same time, he notices in himself a mental discomfort, which mars the perfection of the moment: T was, of course, in prison and might be shot.' This difficulty gives rise to 'a feeling,' which supplies the discovery that, in comparison with the perfect beauty he is intellectually gazing at, his concern with his personal lot is nothing but a minor annoyance. To express his situation of utter security, once more he has recourse to poetic language: 'I was floating on my back in a river of peace, under bridges of silence.' He seems to have attained a state beyond space and beyond individuality: 'It came from nowhere and flowed nowhere. Then there was no river and no I. The I had ceased to exist' (§ 3). The author's interpretation highlights the fact that 'mystical' experience has a certain precision about it (his initial insight is clear) and yet is 'incommunicable by its nature.' He avers that it is 'just as real - only much more real' than great music. Its ontological character appears in the impression that 'one is in touch with "real reality," the hidden order

Narratives 19 of things, the X-ray texture of the world, normally obscured by layers of irrelevancy' (§ 4). As he elaborates it, The "hours by the window," which had started with the rational reflection that finite statements about the infinite were possible - and which in fact represented a series of such statements on a non-rational level - had filled me with a direct certainty that a higher order of reality existed, and that it alone invested existence with meaning.'4 Noteworthy is the double character - rational and non-rational - of Koestler's statements regarding the infinite. This feature will recur in the chapter on Rudolf Otto. As far as the fruit of the experience is concerned, Koestler notes: 'there remained a sustained and invigorating, serene and fear-dispelling after-effect that lasted for hours and days.' In fact, the experience repeated itself: 'Whether the experience had lasted for a few minutes or an hour, I never knew. In the beginning it occurred two or even three times a week, then the intervals became longer. It could never be voluntarily induced. After my liberation it recurred at even longer intervals, perhaps once or twice in a year. But by that time the groundwork for a change of personality was completed. I shall henceforth refer to these experiences as "the hours by the window.'"5 It is interesting to observe that the experience occurred as a gift ('It could never be voluntarily induced.') and that it took place less and less frequently, just often enough 'for a change of personality' to happen. This change was both moral and intellectual. On the moral plane, Koestler asked himself whether he would sacrifice his life for his comrades and he called attention to the deepening and broadening of his conviction in this respect.6 And in a number of books, he 'tried to come to intellectual terms with the intuitive glimpses gained during the "hours by the window".' His intellectual conversion consisted in abandoning previous materialistic and Marxist views, in sorting out 'the problem of Ends and Means, the conflict between transcendental morality and social expediency/ and in 'a rejection of the ethical neutrality of science as expressed in the psychiatrist's claim to be able to "reduce" courage, dedication and self-sacrifice to neurotic motives.'7 He describes his struggle as 'a spiritual crisis with its constant ups and downs, advances and relapses; its oscillation between new certainties and old doubts; its sudden illuminations, followed by long periods of inner darkness, petty resentments and fear.' Concerning the time requirement, he states: T do not believe that anybody, except a very primitive person, can be reborn in one night, as so many tales of sudden conversions will have it. I do believe that one can suddenly "see the

20 Part 1: A Phenomenological Approach light" and undergo a change that will completely alter the course of one's life. But a change of this kind takes place at the spiritual core of the subject, and it will take a long time to seep through to the periphery, until in the end the entire personality, his conscious thoughts and actions, become impregnated with it.'8 In a finely balanced way, the author brings together two assertions that are sometimes mistakenly set in opposition. On the one hand, a person can have a sudden illumination which radically changes one's outlook on life; on the other hand, years are required for this basic insight to make a difference in one's thoughts and actions. An Instance of Ethical Experience A videocassette entitled We Shall Overcome documents the origins and the amazing fortunes of the song of the same name.9 More than 150 years ago, it had been sung by slaves in South Carolina. In the 1950s, Pete Seeger and Guy Caravan resurrected it and spread it as an anthem of freedom in the American South. After its revival, it was sung by blacks and whites first in the labour movement, then in the civil rights movement, and finally in campaigns against poverty and for peace and disarmament. Thanks to the Freedom Singers and to television reports, it became known worldwide and was heard in dozens of languages. Let us recall the words themselves: We shall overcome some day. Oh, deep in my heart I do believe we shall overcome some day. We'll walk hand in hand some day ... We shall live in peace some day ... We are not afraid today ... We shall stand together ... The truth will make us free ... The Lord will see us through ... We shall be like him ... The whole wide world around ...

I am convinced that to millions of people this hymn has conveyed an experience of transcendence. It actualizes a universal ideal which strikes a responsive cord in the human breast. It has been adopted by several minorities in America and as far away as Africa and Asia, indeed in

Narratives 21 virtually every place in our world where people have struggled for justice. For African Americans, the preparation for this transcendent experience usually has been the context of rallies and demonstrations where calls for civil rights were countered by threatening forces. The occasion is the singing of the hymn: the inspiring words, the moving music, the solidarity among the singers. The main feeling is one of elation, of strength, of bravery in the face of adversity. In this feeling, the value of hope is revealed; the sense that hope is set on a firm basis that well excedes the capacities of an individual or a group. Those of the militants who are religiously minded put their trust in a final triumph to be enjoyed after the partial victories that mark the journey (The Lord will see us through'). The anticipation is not merely a matter of juridical urgency, but is also eschatological ('the whole wide world around') that is, having to do with the last stage in human history, with good overcoming evil. The fruit of this experience consists in the disappearance of fear, in a deep-set peace, in an assertion of freedom, in a calm and proud determination to go on struggling non-violently, in the courage of risking imprisonment, wounds, perhaps even death. Many would draw from the collective singing an energy that sustains. The Blacks who sang the hymn would often extend a hand to whites, inviting them to repentance and reconciliation. Occasionally the victims' suffering would wear the oppressors down. Not infrequently an offer of forgiveness would be made. That which makes this phenomenon an experience of transcendence surely is music as a joining force. As someone put it, 'it makes you feel connected; it puts you in touch with a larger self that couldn't be killed.' Declared Pete Seeger: 'Songs have overcome kings and empires.' And when President Lyndon B. Johnson introduced the Voter Registration Act, he ended his speech to the nation with the words 'We shall overcome.' By addressing all American citizens and making it clear that equality must become the concern of all, he universalized the challenge. The power of the song to catapult a crowd of ordinary human beings into a transcendent dimension is illustrated in the following incident. One night, a group of about fifty African-American women were watching a movie. All of a sudden they were surrounded by white men with guns and billy clubs. The electric power was turned off and they sat in complete darkness. As the deputy's thugs walked among them, the women had no idea what was going on and thus there was a great deal

22 Part 1: A Phenomenological Approach of fear in the room. All of a sudden, somebody decided to hum the tune, 'We Shall Overcome.' The others rallied and sang with her. For about two hours, singing that song actually quieted some of the terror and fear that the people had of what the invaders were doing. There seemed to be a need to say to the men, 'we are not afraid today/ and, on the spot, the singer Jamila Jones, who was only in her teens, made up those very words. Those lines helped convince the women that they were not afraid. The raiders circulated throughout the room, ransacked everybody's luggage, and arrested some of the Blacks whom they claimed were selling illegal booze. However, the simple act of singing ended up unnerving the aggressors, who retreated apprehensively. As she recalls the episode and interprets it, Jones stresses the fact that the mood created by the singing had a cosmic resonance: 'It seemed like nature came into that room. The world on the outside and even the trees just picked up. We were just a part of that nature, intuned to what was happening.'10 An Instance of Interpersonal Experience

Larisa stood next to the coffin of her beloved Yurii Zhivago. She was shaken by her repressed sobs. She fought her tears as long as she could, but at times it was beyond her strength and they burst from her, pouring down her cheeks and onto her dress, her hands, and the coffin, to which she clung. She neither spoke nor thought. Sequences of ideas, notions, insights, truths drifted and sailed freely through her mind, like clouds in the sky, as happened so often before during their nighttime conversations. It was such things that had brought them happiness and liberation in those days. A spontaneous mutual understanding, warm, instinctive, immediate. Such an understanding filled her now, a dark, indistinct knowledge of death, preparedness for death, a preparedness that removed all feeling of helplessness in its presence. It was as if she had lived twenty lives, and had lost Yurii countless times, and had accumulated such experience of the heart in this domain that everything she felt and did beside this coffin was exactly right and to the point. Oh, what a love it was, utterly free, unique, like nothing else on earth! Their thoughts were like other people's songs. They loved each other, not

Narratives 23 driven by necessity, by the 'blaze of passion' often falsely ascribed to love. They loved each other because everything around them willed it, the trees and the clouds and the sky over their heads and the earth under their feet. Perhaps their surrounding world, the strangers they met in the street, the wide expanses they saw on their walks, the rooms in which they lived or met, took more delight in their love than they themselves did. Ah, that was just what had united them and had made them so akin! Never, never, even in their moments of richest and wildest happiness, were they unaware of a sublime joy in the total design of the universe, a feeling that they themselves were a part of that whole, an element in the beauty of the cosmos. This unity with the whole was the breath of life to them. And the elevation of man above the rest of nature, the modern coddling and worshipping of man, never appealed to them. A social system based on such a false premise, as well as its political application, struck them as pathetically amateurish and made no sense to them.11 The preparation is the long-standing relationship Larisa has maintained with her beloved Yurii. The occasion is Zhivago's death, of which the coffin is a cruel reminder. Larisa's sorrow is immense. Prior to the passage above, the novelist writes: 'Her heart was bursting and her head ached. Lowering her head, she withdrew into memories, reflections, conjectures. She escaped into them, sank into them ... In her thoughts she seemed to touch the very bottom of her unhappiness.'12 Her freely-floating recollections favour the emergence of what lies in her depths: 'Sequences of ideas, notions, insights, truths drifted and sailed freely through her mind.' The core feeling is not a new one but rather one that recurs, since she and Yurii experienced it all along: 'Never ... were they unaware of a sublime joy in the total design of the universe, a feeling that they themselves were a part of that whole, an element in the beauty of the cosmos.' There is a certainty and a precision about this feeling: 'everything she felt and did beside this coffin was exactly right and to the point.' The discovery is the following: 'They loved each other because everything around them willed it.' In the paragraph from which that quote is taken, Lara's conviction is beautifully rendered. She asserts a cosmic confirmation of their love. This love is supported by the whole world, it has a definite, absolute place in the universe. 'This unity with

24 Part 1: A Phenomenological Approach

the whole was the breath of life to them.' In this interpretation, however, the revelatory potential of her experience is not fully brought out, since the basis of the love is not seen as personal. Heidegger has aptly related such interpersonal love to an unveiling of beings as a whole. He states that a possibility of such manifestation is concealed in our joy in the presence of the Dasein - and not simply of the person - of a human being whom we love. Such being attuned, in which we 'are' one way or another and which determines us through and through, lets us find ourselves among beings as a whole. Finding ourselves attuned not only unveils beings as a whole in various ways, but this unveiling - far from being merely incidental - is also the fundamental occurrence of our Da-sein.13

The fruit of Larisa's transcendent experience may be observed in the acceptance of death: 'preparedness for death, a preparedness that removed all feeling of helplessness in its presence.' The experience also confirms her rejection of a social system based on 'the elevation of man above the rest of nature.' This 'false premise' is the exact opposite of Yurii's and Larisa's worldview.

PART 2 Historic Contributions

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Chapter 3

Kant and the Sublime

Part 1 of this book sketched out a phenomenology of transcendent experience. Part 2 will engage the thoughts of some Western thinkers on this topic. We begin with Immanuel Kant (1724-1804), because his distinctive contribution - the notion of the transcendental - brings about a significant shift. He both sums up several acquisitions of the eighteenth-century Enlightenment and sets the course for nineteenthcentury philosophy. Each of the philosophers to be introduced in the coming chapters will be situated with respect to Kant, as either furthering or questioning his position - and often as doing both. Readers are thus invited to notice the prominent traits that recur from author to author. In so far as the experience of the infinite is concerned, we find in Kant a few phenomenological paragraphs that may superficially resemble remarks made by Schleiermacher, James, and Otto. Yet there is a notable epistemological divergence between Kant and the others. For instance, quite central to the latter three is feeling, which seems to give a direct access to the divine. In contrast to their praise of feeling, Kant bluntly denounces a particular form of religious illusion based on feeling: an illusion is called fanatical when the very means it contemplates, as supersensible, are not within man's power, leaving out of account the inaccessibility of the supersensible end aimed at by these means; for this feeling of the immediate presence of the Supreme Being and the distinguishing of this from every other, even from the moral feeling, would constitute a receptivity for an intuition for which there is no sensory provision in man's nature. (Religion, 162-3; see 178-80; see also A 256/B 312, which rules out any 'non-sensible intuition')1

28 Part 2: Historic Contributions Despite such strictures, Kant does offer us a grounding of the human mind's openness to the infinite. However, in comparison with most other accounts of this openness, Kant's is a sobering one. This chapter will discuss his understanding of 'the sublime' (das Erhabene), which corresponds with our 'transcendent experience.' In the Critique of Judgment (CJ), we find beautiful pages describing the experience of the sublime, which bears directly on the infinite. But as soon as we consider his philosophical analysis of the sublime, perhaps some readers will ask whether his systematic explanation does not operate at cross purposes with the phenomenological observations that he otherwise makes. By laying a very strong emphasis on what takes place in the human mind, does he cancel the positive outcome of the experience itself? Doesn't phenomenology suggest that in the sublime more might be involved than Kant's admiration for the moral worth of the individual? For instance, the following excerpt from the Critique of Judgment illustrates what sounds like a disquieting ambivalence in his treatment of the sublime: 'For though the imagination, no doubt, finds nothing beyond the sensible world to which it can lay hold, still this thrusting aside of the sensible barriers gives it a feeling of being unbounded; and that removal is thus a presentation of the infinite. As such it can never be anything more than a negative presentation - but still it expands the soul' (§ 29, 274). The tantalizing nature of such assertions invites us to investigate the issue of the compatibility between Kant's transcendental idealism and his representation of the sublime. By bringing together the combined riches of aesthetics, epistemology, and ethics, his approach to the infinite surely amounts to an intellectually satisfying position because of its breadth and its consistency. Inspecting his profound views on the human mind as it is confronted with the unbounded will also establish the basis for a comparison between him and other thinkers on this topic. We proceed in four steps and successively introduce Kant's phenomenological views on the experience of the sublime as different from the beautiful; his thesis regarding the mediation of the human mind; his dialectic of the logical and the aesthetic within the mathematically sublime; and finally the status he assigns to the concept of the infinite. Phenomenology Kant's ideas on the sublime stem from a long literary and psychological tradition that extends back to Longinus, a first-century Greek author2

Kant and the Sublime 29 revived by Boileau in the seventeenth century,3 and that reached Kant through the writings of Edmund Burke (1729-97). The latter spoke of the two kinds of sublime that Kant expounds and respectively calls 'the dynamically sublime' and 'the mathematically sublime.' As far as the first is concerned, 'Whatever is fitted in any sort to excite the ideas of pain, and danger, that is to say, whatever is in any sort terrible, or is conversant about terrible objects, or operates in a manner analogous to terror, is a source of the sublime; that is, it is productive of the strongest emotion which the mind is capable of feeling.'4 As far as the second kind of sublime is concerned, Burke remarks: 'Greatness of dimension, is a powerful cause of the sublime ... Another source of the sublime is infinity; if it does not rather belong to the last [greatness]. Infinity has a tendency to fill the mind with that sort of delightful horror, which is the most genuine effect, and truest test of the sublime.'5 emotion which the mind is capable of feeling.'4 As far as the second tions on the Feeling of the Beautiful and Sublime in which he adumbrated

the difference between these two terms in a way that is heavily indebted to Burke. Kant states: 'The sublime moves (ruhrt), the beautiful charms (reizt).' He cites examples which show that the sublime arouses 'enjoyment but with horror,' whereas the beautiful occasions 'a pleasant sensation but one that is joyous and smiling' (47). As interesting as these Observations are, they nevertheless do not offer a transcendentally grounded account of the beautiful and the sublime. At the end of his mature years, Kant returned to the subject matter. In the Critique of Judgment (1790; 2d ed. 1793), he overcame the inadequacy of Burke's merely psychological description, which had also characterized his own Observations (CJ, § 29, 277-8; see also 266). From the vantage point of criticism, he situated the judgments of the beautiful and the sublime within the framework of a transcendental analysis of the human cognitive faculties. He also refined his phenomenology of the sublime. What is the phenomenological difference between the beautiful and the sublime? According to Kant, the former is 'pre-adapted' (vorherbestimmt) to our faculties, while the latter is 'ill-adapted' (zweckwidrig) to them (§ 23, 245). As aesthetic feelings, both are disinterested, though each in its own manner. 'The beautiful prepares us to love (lieben) something, even nature, apart from any interest; the sublime to esteem (hochschatzen) something highly even in opposition to our (sensible) interest' (§ 29, 267). Again, the beautiful bears on forms and hence on limiting aspects, whereas the sublime introduces us to the dimension of

30 Part 2: Historic Contributions the limitless. The sublime is triggered by 'formless' objects. This English adjective renders a few distinct German adjectives: unforrn (VII, 192), formlos (§ 23, 244), formlos oder ungestalt (§ 30, 279). Allan Lazaroff points out that, since ungestalt means 'deformed' as well as 'shapeless,' the idea of deformity is also suggested.6 In contrast to beautiful forms, the sublime is found in objects that are devoid of shapes pleasing to the eye. Furthermore, whereas the experience of the beautiful is solely attractive, the experience of the sublime contains two elements, which are variously called: 'a feeling of displeasure... and a simultaneously awakened pleasure' (§ 27, 257); 'a rapidly alternating repulsion and attraction' (§ 27, 258); 'the feeling of a momentary check to the vital forces followed at once by a discharge all the more powerful' (§ 23,245). As if anticipating Otto, Kant remarks apropos the mighty forces of nature: 'But, provided our own position is secure, their aspect is all the more attractive for its fearfulness' (§ 28,261). He cites as examples the 'horrible aspect' of 'the broad ocean agitated by storms/ the 'chaos' of nature 'in its wildest and most irregular disorder and desolation' (§ 23,245-6), 'shapeless mountain masses towering one above the other in wild disorder' (§ 26,256). He also gives us the following splendid evocation: 'Bold, overhanging, and, as it were, threatening rocks, thunderclouds piled up the vault of heaven, borne along with the flashes and peals, volcanoes in all their violence of destruction, hurricanes leaving desolation in their track, the boundless ocean rising with rebellious force, the high waterfall of some mighty river, and the like, make our power of resistance of trifling moment in comparison with their might' (§ 28,261; other examples are given at § 29,270). In his Anthropology (1798; 2d ed. 1800), Kant once again brings out the ambivalence attached to the sublime: 'it simultaneously invites us to approach it (so as to make our forces equal to it) and deters us by the fear that in comparison with it we shall shrink into insignificance in our own estimation (thunder over our head, for example, or a high, rugged mountain). When we are in a safe place, the gathering of our forces to grasp the appearance, along with our anxiety about not being able to rise to its greatness, arouses astonishment (a feeling that is agreeable because it continuously triumphs over pain).' A faithful echo of Kant's early Observations can be heard in the way this same passage characterizes the difference between the beautiful and the sublime: 'So the sublime is not an object for taste. It is, rather, the feeling of being stirred (das Gefuhl der Ruhrung) that has the sublime for its object.' However, he cautions against overemphasizing the contrast between them. The con-

Kant and the Sublime 31 sideration he adduces is the following: 'when the sublime is described or exhibited, its representation in thought can and must always be beautiful.' Otherwise, the 'astonishment' characteristic of the sublime would turn to 'abhorrence' (Anthropology, § 68,243). The uneasy coexistence of two opposed feelings is a perceptive phenomenological observation that becomes a clue for a transcendental account of the sublime. The second feeling, in particular, directly points to the mediation of the human mind. The Mediation of the Mind As impressive as they are, phenomena of nature do not constitute the sublime itself. In Kant's view, the sublime resides in the human mind: 'true sublimity must be sought only in the mind (Gemiit) of the judging Subject, and not in the Object of nature that occasions this attitude by the estimate formed of it' (C/, § 26, 256). Or again: 'The apprehension of an object otherwise formless and in conflict with ends supplies the mere occasion for our coming to a consciousness of this basis' (§ 30, 280). The phenomenon is only an occasion; what is paramount is the subject's response to the occasion. Therefore, 'sublimity should, in strictness, be attributed merely to the attitude of thought, or, rather, to that which serves as basis (Grundlage) for this in human nature' (§ 30, 280). In this response, the individual is aware of the superiority of the mind, more precisely of that particular faculty called reason vis-a-vis the powers of both nature and the imagination. This superiority is not physical - in this respect nature is much stronger - but of an altogether different order, which Kant calls the 'supersensible substrate of nature' (IX, 195, n.l). The superiority of the mind displays itself in the limitations of the imagination. Through the very experience of its impotence in face of the infinite, the imagination realizes it is being outstripped by reason. Only reason, which is a supersensible faculty, can overstep the boundaries in which the imagination is confined. The feeling of the sublime is the respect we have for our legislative reason, which belongs in the field of ethics (§ 26). There is at one and the same time a conflict and an agreement between the imagination and reason. On the one hand, the imagination is aware of its deficiency and fears lest it lose itself in the abyss that it glimpses. On the other, in this tension towards the infinite, the imagination works along with reason as the latter offers a rule of measurement

32 Part 2: Historic Contributions that goes beyond anything either the sensibility or nature can suggest. In this very association of the imagination with reason, the mind is aware of its properly rational destination as well as of the internal finality of the human faculties (§ 27). Throughout this analysis of the sublime, Kant is totally consistent with his strong emphasis on transcendental subjectivity. In the presence of the disproportionate, only the active response of reason can exhibit the limits of the imagination. On the one hand, in the mathematically sublime, the superiority of reason over the imagination shows itself in the evaluation of measurements (§ 25-7). On the other hand, in the dynamically sublime, what stands out is the strength of the human mind, which prevails over the might of nature. Confronted with the redoubtable forces of nature, we overcome fear as we 'discover within us a power of resistance of quite another kind, which gives us courage to be able to measure ourselves against the seeming omnipotence of nature.' We get beyond 'our physical helplessness as beings of nature' because there is in us 'a faculty of estimating ourselves as independent of nature'(§28,261). Kant cites as an example the admiration people have for the soldier, who is courageous because he knows that 'his mind is above the threats of danger' (§ 28, 262). This superiority of the mind is grounded in the moral destination of the human person, which is more sublime than nature itself (§ 29). Thus both the mathematical and the dynamic sublime evidence the superiority of our supersensible faculty - in the first case an intellectual superiority and in the second a moral superiority. In either case, Kant ascribes sublimity to the human subject rather than to nature. Of course, the formless or deformed things that occasion the feeling of the sublime belong in nature. Yet there is no such feeling until the human faculties respond, that is, until imagination overextends itself and breaks down, to make room for reason's awareness of a boundless dimension. Kant sees the infinite as an absolute measure that cannot be found in the world but solely in our mind. 'If, however, we call anything not alone great, but, without qualification, absolutely, and in every respect (beyond all comparison) great, that is to say, sublime, we soon perceive that for this it is not permissible to seek an appropriate standard outside itself, but merely in itself. It is a greatness comparable to itself alone. Hence it comes that the sublime is not to be looked for in the things of nature, but only in our own ideas' (§ 25, 250). To understand this mediation of the human mind, some epistemological considerations may be helpful. According to Kant's tripartite framework, the beautiful and the sublime belong in neither the realm of

Kant and the Sublime 33 understanding (science) nor the realm of practical reason (freedom); instead, they constitute a middle term between understanding and reason - that is, judgment (First Introduction to the Critique of Judgment [FI], II; C/, III). In contrast to the 'determinant' judgment typical of science, in which a concept both determines intuitions and is determined by them, aesthetic judgment is a case of 'reflective' judgment, in which only an indeterminate concept is employed (§ 57; see IV, V, VII). As Kant indicates in his first Critique, 'reflection' (Reflexion, Uberlegung) is not a scientific knowledge: Reflection (reflexio) does not concern itself with objects themselves with a view to deriving concepts from them directly, but is that state of mind in which we first set ourselves to discover the subjective conditions under which (alone) we are able to arrive at concepts. It is the consciousness of the relation of given representations to our different sources of knowledge ... All judgments, however, and indeed all comparisons, require reflection, i.e. distinction of the cognitive faculty to which the given concepts belong. (Critique of Pure Reason, 1st ed. [hereafter A], 260-1; 2nd ed. [hereafter B], 316-17) Reflection has to do, not directly with the outside world but with selfknowledge. In the aesthetic experience, the feeling associated with selfawareness is also subjective. According to the third Critique, 'the feeling of pleasure or displeasure ... is a feeling which the Subject has of itself and of the manner in which it is affected by the representation' (§ 1, 204). H. W. Cassirer encapsulates Kant's position remarkably well when he writes that, in the reflective judgment, 'it is not the object by itself which is judged, but the object in relation to the judging subject.'7 The aesthetic judgment, however, is subjective and yet universal. It is subjective because it is not constitutive of scientifically valid experience; it is universal because it is based on the a priori structures of the mental faculties. We must bear in mind that, in Kant's principles, the 'subjective' is anything but subjectivistic or idiosyncratic. Rather, it includes transcendental objectivity. As Cassirer explains, 'We see now that the principle of Judgment is subjective and objective at the same time. It is subjective because it is a mere principle of reflection, which does not in any way enable us to determine nature as such, i.e., as an object independent of the human mind. It is objective in so far as the human mind must necessarily assume it, i.e., in so far as it is an a priori transcendental principle.'8 In light of this, it is not surprising that Kant talks of 'subjective universality' (CJ, § 6,212).

34 Part 2: Historic Contributions If the aesthetic judgment does not make objects known in a scientific way, what is its specific role? It consists in displaying finality9 and it does so in two different ways. First, in the case of the beautiful, the judgment of taste reflects the harmony between natural shapes, imagination, and understanding. Second, in the case of the sublime, what happens is more complex. On the one hand, a disproportion is experienced, that is, between shapeless, immeasurable, or threatening objects and the observer; at this stage, one provisionally feels a 'subjective want of finality for our judgment' (§ 26, 252). On the other hand, the consciousness of the superiority - either intellectual or moral - of reason confirms the relation of moral purposiveness between nature and humanity. Thus the sublime involves a tension between the 'contra-final' (zweckwidrig) and the 'final' (zweckmafiig) (§ 27,259). Such a purposiveness has two closely related aspects: in nature and in the human cognitive faculties. It is the specific function of our judging power (Urteilskraft) to attribute purposiveness to nature. In so doing, we suppose that the particular and universal laws are not disconnected but constitute a system. For example, in concrete cases, we judge (beurteilen) the particular as contained under the universal. Then nature in its regularity and orderliness is taken to be adapted to our purpose of knowing it; we assume that there is a purposive disposition of nature with respect to human knowledge {FI, II, 201-3). Such an accord is naturally enjoyable: 'The attainment of every aim is coupled with a feeling of pleasure' (C/, VI, 187). This first aspect is bound up with a second one, namely, the purposiveness that occurs within our faculties when we make judgments regarding the beautiful or the sublime. The beautiful is the experience of an object that occasions a feeling of harmony between our imagination and our understanding. The sublime is the experience of an object that occasions two feelings: first, a painful tension between our imagination and our reason, and second, the pleasant feeling that reason is much higher than the imagination and the sensible world since it belongs to the supersensible realm of ethics, in which human freedom prevails (§ 9 and § 27). This latter feeling is associated with respect for greatness (§ 25, 249). Thus, as Paul Crowther remarks, 'the principle of finality leads from nature construed as a teleological system, to freedom construed as its final end.'10 A further question is in order: In Kant's transcendental aesthetic, what is the exact relationship between the occasion, the feeling, and the judgment? Kant tackles this question almost exclusively in the context

Kant and the Sublime 35 of the judgment of taste, which concerns the beautiful. But since the experiences of the beautiful and the sublime have a parallel structure, their differences are minimal on this point. That which Kant calls 'an aesthetic representation of the finality' (eine asthetische Vorstellung der Zweckmafiigkeit) (VII, 189) seems to

happen thanks to a preceding judgment. In many passages of the Critique of Judgment, Kant is emphatic that the judgment precedes the feeling. He remarks that the aesthetic experience of beauty radically differs from the experience of the agreeable that the senses can have. The latter is 'an aesthetic judgment of sense (Sinnenurteil) ... - as e.g., in the judgment: The wine is agreeable - so that the predicate expresses that a presentation is referred directly to the feeling of pleasure and not to the cognitive power' (FI, VIII, 224).n One may remember that, according to the Critique of Pure Reason, 'feeling of pleasure and pain' amounts to no knowledge (A49/B66). In such a sensible (sinnlich) experience, one remains on the level of the particular, and its feeling which is inferior to the strictly aesthetic one - does not require a prior judgment. In contrast to this sensible experience of the agreeable, the aesthetic experience is not confined to the particular but has a universal scope. It is in order to safeguard the communicable knowability and universality of the judgment of taste that Kant asserts the priority of the judgment over the feeling in the aesthetic experience (C/, § 9). What is at stake is the universality and the communicability of the aesthetic judgment. Many commentators have found this aspect of Kant's thought unclear, paradoxical, or even contradictory. For example, as he takes up the problem of the relations between knowledge, feeling, and aesthetic judgment, Victor Basch, following Hegel, contends that Kant lacks coherence on this issue.12 Another careful interpreter, Paul Guyer, subtly maintains that Kant assumes, while not expressly introducing, a distinction between a prior reflection leading to pleasure and a later reflection leading to the aesthetic judgment. According to Guyer, when Kant states that the judgment precedes the feeling, he means the earlier reflection, not the final judgment. The former would be a reflection on the object, whereas the latter would be a reflection on our subjective state.13 However, Guyer's problem - as well as his solution - looks artificial and finally vanishes if we take account of the fact that Kant's transcendental perspective favours not a chronological, but a logical priority of

36 Part 2: Historic Contributions judgment over feeling. Indeed, FI, VIII, which is Kant's most detailed treatment of this issue, suggests that the feeling and the judgment are concomitant. They condition each other, as can be deduced from the following sentence, in which the bracketed assertion complements the main statement: Tor if reflection on a given representation precedes the feeling of pleasure (where this feeling is the basis determining the judgment), then the subjective purposiveness is thought before it is sensed in its effect' (224). The complementarity can be explained as follows. Aesthetic judgment is at one and the same time particular and universal. Principles derived from the power of judgment - especially the assumption that nature in its systematic unity is purposive for our cognitive faculties14 are needed if the particular is to be subsumed under the universal. The universality of aesthetic judgment is warranted by those principles, while its particularity comes from the concrete occasion giving rise to the feeling (FI, VIII, 225; CJ, VII and § 37). We are now in a position to sort out the elements of the aesthetic experience. First, the occasion (Veranlassung) (CJ, § 30, 280): an object is given to the senses and becomes a representation in the imagination. Second, the object represented allows us to sense an inner purposiveness among our cognitive faculties in relation to nature. This sensation (Empfindung) - also called a 'mental state' (Gemutszustand) or 'the feeling of pleasure and displeasure' (das Gefiihl der Lust und Unlust) (FI, VIII, 223 and 224) - is the result of the subjective interplay of our cognitive powers (imagination and understanding in the case of the beautiful, imagination and reason in the case of the sublime). Third, the decisive role belongs to the aesthetic judgment of reflection (das asthetische Reflexionsurteil). In its capacity of exhibiting formal purposiveness, it a priori conditions the inner awareness of finality (224). This judgment is pivotal in regard to the particular and the universal. On the one hand, 'it is a singular representation of intuition referable to the feeling of pleasure, and, as such, only a private judgment' (§ 57,339). On the other hand, it has 'universal validity' because of its transcendental character (340). For Kant, the aesthetic experience is accountable in terms of the interplay between our cognitive powers. If the stress falls on human subjectivity, it is because he has demonstrated the mediation of the mind in the experience of the mathematically and the dynamically sublime.

Kant and the Sublime 37 The Unfolding of the Mathematical Sublime Kant's exposition on the sublime in the third Critique is divided as follows: the sublime in its contradistinction to the beautiful (§ 23); the two kinds of sublime, the mathematical and the dynamic (§ 24); the mathematically sublime (§ 25-7); the dynamically sublime (§ 28-9); and (again) the sublime in its contradistinction to the beautiful (general remark following § 29, and § 30). Kant puts forward a definition of the sublime: 'Sublime is the name given to what is absolutely great' (§ 25, 248). 'The sublime (sublime) is that greatness in size or intensity which inspires awe (magnitudo reverenda)' (Anthropology, § 68, 243). Whereas the mathematically sublime derives from the perception of greatness in extension (size), the dynamically sublime derives from the perception of greatness in power (intensity) (CJ, § 29, 268). Through the imagination, the former is referred to the faculty of cognition, while the latter is referred to that of desire (§ 24,247). Let us concentrate on Kant's analysis of the mathematical sublime, which involves a numerical and an aesthetic aspect. The tension (and complementarity) between these aspects is introduced at the second step and finds its resolution at the third step of a three-part schema. It is paramount to note that, in the opening paragraph of § 25, Kant presents not two but three basic steps. Since this point can be easily overlooked, an attempt should be made at clarifying these three steps. A. A magnitude (Grofie, magnitudo, quantum) prior to any comparison. In this apprehension we simply assert that something is great. Anything perceived as occupying a portion of space and time is a magnitude. When we say without qualification that something is great, we realize that a thing looks greater than other objects, but we have not yet proceeded to any measurement or systematic comparison. B. A mathematical magnitude or multiplicity (Vielheit, Zahl, quantitas). The mathematical concept of magnitude is introduced as someone tries to answer the question, how great is something? This thing must be compared with another one. To measure this first magnitude, a second one is needed. Some standard (Majlstab) is employed. C. What is absolutely great (schlechthin grofi, absolute non comparative magnum). Here we conceive of what is great beyond all comparison, hence beyond any relative (including numerical) ordering. Greatness can be ascribed to it pre-eminently, without our being capable

38 Part 2: Historic Contributions of determining the extent of this pre-eminence. We move in the direction of an absolute (yet impossible) concept of magnitude. At the beginning of § 26, the 'estimation of magnitude' (Grofienschatzung) is differentiated into a mathematical and an aesthetic estimation. In the next sentence, the mathematical estimation is also called logical. This mathematical, or logical, estimation consists in arithmetic or geometric operations, whereby one can progress or regress numerically. As Guyer aptly rephrases Kant, it is 'the enumeration of separately apprehended items under some unit of measurement or other.'15 Thus is started a movement ad infinitum, which characterizes what we have called step B.16 Measurements can be taken and, if they are related, the outcome is a series of magnitudes. As the series unfolds, standards of measurement can succeed one another in a series of standards (e.g., centimetres, metres, kilometres, etc.). The mathematical estimation depends on the aesthetic estimation, which is given at step A and continues to play a role at step B. The magnitude that is measured requires something other, which also is a magnitude, for its standard. As Gerard Lebrun puts it, in order to number (nombrer), one must measure (mesurer), that is, adopt a unit or standard.17 The standard utilized in mathematics derives from elsewhere, namely, from the world of perception. This is the reason why Kant states that 'all estimation of the magnitude of the objects of nature is in the last resort aesthetic (i.e., subjectively and not objectively determined)' (§ 26,251). In Kant's principles, the aesthetic estimation is intuitive, because it is based on the senses and the imagination. He writes that it consists 'in the mere intuition (by the eye)' (§ 26, 251). Moreover representations can be combined in a synthetic manner: 'By synthesis, in its most general sense, I understand the act of putting different representations together, and of grasping what is manifold in them in one (act of) knowledge. Such a synthesis is pure, if the manifold is not empirical but is given a priori, as is the manifold in space and time' (A 77/B 103). The last7 sentence of this quotation introduces the first in a sequence of three cognitive operations, two of which must be considered here because they are present in the experience of the sublime: the synthesis of apprehension in intuition and the synthesis of reproduction in imagination (A 77-9/B 102-4; A 98-102).18 At step B of the process, both the intuitive apprehension and the imaginative reproduction are needed. The aesthetic estimation requires

Kant and the Sublime 39 the first operation, the synthesis of apprehension whereby the manifold is given in space and time; and the mathematical estimation requires the second operation, the synthesis of reproduction whereby sequences are reconstituted by the imagination. Such a twofold activity is open ended. The imagination operates 'so as to enlarge the size of the measure, and thus make the single intuition holding the many in one (the comprehension) as great as possible' (CJ, § 26,254). Let us now attentively heed the way Kant describes the passage from B to C, from the mathematical estimation to the greatest measure. A particular magnitude is always relative in the sense that it can be seen as smaller or bigger than another one. When it engages in comparing magnitudes, the imagination can indefinitely progress in its apprehension (Auffassung) of magnitude; but it quickly comes up against a limit in its comprehension (Zusammenfassung) of a whole series of magnitudes. Such a grasp of the totality defies any visual or imaginative comprehensiveness because the eye or the imagination cannot encompass all the parts in one representation (§ 26, 251-2). In section § 27, Kant calls the apprehension a 'progression' (Progressus), and the comprehension a 'retrogression' (Regressus). For the imagination, the challenge that is impossible to meet is to comprehend the parts 'at one glance' (in einem Augenblick) (258). It is only because it is spurred by reason that the imagination strains and stretches itself to the limit. The overall configuration, however, is never completely achieved, since such an operation would amount to trespassing the bounds of time and space. In § 26, 252, there is an ambiguity, perceptively noticed by Crowther, between a limited and an unlimited whole. The examples of the Pyramids in Egypt and St Peter's in Rome illustrate the imagination's inability to grasp simultaneously all the parts of a limited whole. In these cases, the object may seem infinite but, in effect, it is simply disproportionate to our representational capacity. This phenomenon was reported by Edmund Burke, Kant's immediate predecessor in aesthetics: 'There are scarce any things which can become the objects of our senses that are really, and in their own nature infinite. But the eye not being able to perceive the bounds of many things, they seem to be infinite, and they produce the same effects as if they were really so. We are deceived in the like manner, if the parts of some large object are so continued to any indefinite number, that the imagination meets no check which may hinder its extending them at pleasure.'19 Still, according to Kant, one can find an analogy between this experience of a limited whole and the suggestion of an unlimited whole: 'One

40 Part 2: Historic Contributions could argue, rather, that our difficulty in comprehending a vast object in imagination is, at the level of judgment, structurally similar to the difficulty we would have in likewise comprehending the idea of infinity as a whole. Hence, the existence of such a structural analogy will sometimes make the former suggestive or "symbolic" of the latter.'20 Furthermore, the aesthetic estimation has to do with a fundamental measure (Grundmafi). It is an intuitive act: 'The estimation of the magnitude of the fundamental measure must, therefore, consist merely in the immediate grasp which we can get of it in intuition.' If we remain confined to mathematics, 'we can never arrive at a first or fundamental measure and so cannot get any definite concept of a given magnitude' (§ 26,251). As we saw, measurement always requires something greater for its measure. Mathematical progression thus demands the passage or rather a leap - beyond itself; yet this transition is not carried through because absolute magnitude is never reached. In a numerical progression one can never attain to the 'greatest possible.' Mathematical estimation only compares relative magnitudes whereas aesthetic estimation 'presents magnitude absolutely, so far as the mind can grasp it in an intuition' (§ 26, 251). Only the aesthetic estimation effectively strives after the greatest possible, albeit in a subjective way. 'Now the idea of the comprehension of any phenomenon whatever, that may be given us, in a whole of intuition, is an idea imposed upon us by a law of reason, which recognizes no definite, universally valid and unchangeable measure except the absolute whole' (§ 27, 257). The imagination must reach out to the basic measure but only reason can posit it, because it possesses the idea of absolute totality (§ 29, 268). In this section, basing ourselves on the third Critique, we have seen that the mathematical sublime has a 'logical' and an 'aesthetic' component, whose complementarity opens the human imagination to the infinite. In the following section, we will ask whether key texts of the first Critique on this topic support our findings. The Concept of Infinite Taking his cue from Lebrun, Jacob Rogozinski argues that there are, in both Kant's first and third Critique, two kinds of infinite.21 In the section of the Critique of Pure Reason entitled 'Transcendental Dialectic,' we should find a quantitative infinite, which indefinitely unfolds as it takes the form of an endless series of conditioned states of things. In the

Kant and the Sublime 41 section entitled Transcendental Aesthetic/ we should find a space-time infinite, immediately intuited. The four antinomies of pure reason discussed in the Transcendental Dialectic' are conceived in the framework of the numerical infinite. In the first antinomy, the thesis reads: The world has a beginning in time, and is also limited as regards space.' The antithesis reads: The world has no beginning, and no limits in space; it is infinite as regards both time and space' (A426-7/B 454-5). Kant's own stance is offered further on. For him, pure reason cannot cut the knot, because either side is at one and the same time logically defensible and deprived of an empirical basis. From the viewpoint of mathematical series, we cannot know whether the world is finite or infinite (see A 504-23/B 532-51). The Transcendental Aesthetic' both confirms one aspect of the antinomies and offers a different perspective. What is confirmed is the status of the infinite, which is not ontological, but merely anthropological, since it belongs in the pure forms of the mind (A 19-21/ B 33-6). Space and time are necessary a priori representations, not characteristics of the world. From the aesthetic viewpoint, the conclusion is the same as the one reached by Kant from the mathematical viewpoint: the world cannot be said to be finite or infinite. The difference between the quantitative and the aesthetic is startlingly expressed by two seemingly contradictory assertions found in the Critique of Pure Reason. In the Transcendental Dialectic/ the author's 'Observation on the First Antinomy' states that 'an infinite given magnitude... is impossible' (ist eine unendlichegegebene Grbfie... unmoglich)

(A 430/B 458). In the Transcendental Aesthetic/ he declares: 'Space is represented as a given infinite magnitude' (Der Raum wird als eine unendliche gegebene Grb'fie vorgestellt) (B 39).22

Rogozinski, who draws attention to this apparent contradiction,23 resolves it by distinguishing, as we have seen, between a quantitative infinite, which can never be comprehended, and a space-time infinite, which is given in the aesthetic experience.24 He suggests that in the Critique of Judgment, when Kant characterizes as 'a self-contradictory concept' the 'fundamental measure' that is connected with 'the impossibility of the absolute totality of an endless progression' (§ 26, 255), he has in mind the quantitative infinite. Rogozinski thinks that this interpretation is confirmed by Kant's contrast between 'the logical estimation of magnitude/ in which 'everything depends on a numerical concept/ and 'an aesthetic estimation of magnitude/ associated with

42 Part 2: Historic Contributions the feeling of the sublime (§ 27, 259-60). Rogozinski's point is well taken. However, by examining additional texts by Kant, we shall reach the conclusion that there is no contrast but simply a complementarity between two factors in the human approach to the infinite. Let us try to see how these two aspects are related. In so far as the quantitative concept of the infinite is concerned, the Critique of Pure Reason explains that 'the successive synthesis of units required for the enumeration of a quantum can never be completed' (A 432/B 460, including note a). As we saw in our previous section, computation can never provide us with an infinitely great number. At any point in a series, it is always possible to move on to a greater magnitude. Similarly, intuition encompasses a succession. The first edition of the passage from the Transcendental Aesthetic' - whose second edition (B 39) we quoted three paragraphs above - assimilates the spatial infinite to a progression, since it speaks of a 'limitlessness in the progression of intuition' (Grenzenlosigkeit im Fortgange der Anschauung) (A 25). Not-

withstanding the fact that the second edition (1787) of his first Critique leaves out this characterization, Kant did not change his mind in this respect. Indeed, later in the second edition of his third Critique (1793), he mentions a progression in the ever growing synthesis of representations. He talks, for instance, of 'the effort towards a comprehension that exceeds the faculty of imagination for mentally grasping the progressive apprehension in a whole of intuition' (§ 16,255). As this text indicates, intuition does not rest content with apprehending a succession, but naturally strives towards the comprehension of a whole. It cannot escape being confronted with an all-embracing whole containing all its parts. The aesthetic estimation of greatness requires the idea of an absolute whole, which must be given by reason. This aesthetic estimation is required by the mathematical estimation. The aesthetic estimation, which intuits a whole, can become somewhat clearer if we pay attention to the way Kant characterizes our representation of space and time. As regards space, he indicates that the aesthetic representation of space is nonconceptual: Now every concept must be thought as a representation which is contained in an infinite number of different possible representations (as their common character), and which therefore contains these under (unter) itself; but no concept, as such, can be thought as containing an infinite number of representations within (in) itself. It is in this latter way, however,

Kant and the Sublime 43 that space is thought, for all the parts of space coexist ad infinitum. Consequently, the original representation of space is an a priori intuition, not a concept. (B 40) According to this quotation, we have, first, a case of logical infinity: the abstract concept corresponds to its countless concrete instantiations but it cannot include all these at the same time. Second, we have a different approach - the aesthetic one - to the infinite, whose parts are immediately intuited as coexisting within 'the one all-embracing space' (A 25/ B 39). This is equally true for time: 'The infinitude of time signifies nothing more than that every determinate magnitude of time is possible only through limitations of one single time that underlies it. The original representation, time, must therefore be given as unlimited' (A 32/B 48). As in the case of space, an indefinite progression of determinate magnitudes comprises successive limitations, which nevertheless belong in one all-embracing time. The latter is the original representation which is given as unlimited. This complementarity between an endless progression and a given totality, which we find in the first Critique, confirms the complementarity between the 'logical' (or mathematical) and the 'aesthetic' found in the third Critique and presented in the preceding section of this chapter. It is also suggested by some remarks jotted down by Kant towards the end of his life and collected as the Opus postumum. Talking about synthetic propositions, he writes: 'their quantity ... [consists] in that the act of composition (as infinite in progression [cogitabile]) contains the intuition of an infinite whole, as thinkable (subjectively). What is thought in indefinitum is here represented as given in infinitum. Space and time are infinite quanta' (22:11). Other remarks by Kant indicate the difference between the two inseparable stages, which respectively yield an intellectual experience of the indefinite and a sense of the infinite. On the one hand, the numberless quantitative contents of the pure intuitions called space and time are seen as 'negatively infinite' (indefinita); on the other hand, they are represented in appearance as 'infinitely positive' (infinita) (416; 420). Can we say more about this whole that is presupposed in our experience of space and time? There is no direct knowledge of this whole. With Kant, we must be satisfied by the demonstration that the positing of an all-embracing whole is required by the arithmetic progression and given in the aesthetic synthesis of apprehension. The excerpts we have examined here suggest that Kant does not approach the infinite in two

44 Part 2: Historic Contributions radically different manners, that contrast sharply. Rather he introduces and describes two complementary responses concerning the way our imagination faces the infinite: indefinite progression and apprehension of the whole. These operations are so intertwined that the first - the quantitative - raises the question of the larger measure and thus points to the second - the aesthetic - which, in turn, triggers the unfolding of countless series. We must keep in mind that all the texts we have studied, both in the first and in the third Critique, do not regard the infinite as a conceivable object. Kant simply acknowledges the transcendental fact that in its operations the human mind is open to the unconditioned, since anything given in experience has further conditions that can be sought for.25 This recognition is ontologically neutral. We can 'conceive' or 'think' (denkeri) the absolutely great or the supersensible, but we cannot 'cognize' (erkennen) it (§ 26, 254; § 29, 268; § 88, 456). It is noteworthy that this verb denken often recurs in the 'conclusion' of the Prolegomena, as Kant discusses the kind of knowledge associated with the experience of the 'boundary' or 'bounds' in our use of reason. For him, although it does not amount to cognizing, such thinking deserves a place in the last stage of criticism. Paralleling the indefinite quantitative progressions that impress him, he finds an endless succession of questions and answers in the scientific enterprise. He observes that we go as far as asking what the soul really is and entertaining an idea of Being. Out of this awareness, we can distinguish between limits (Schranken) and bounds (Grenzen). Limits 'are mere negations which affect a quantity so far as it is not absolutely complete' (Prolegomena, § 57, 352); in mathematics and science, we take stock of successive limits in our indefinite progression (Fortgange ... ins Unendliche). Unlike limits, however, a boundary (or the bounds) stands between two domains. Reason can set its bounds and recognize, beyond its field of expertise, what he calls 'an empty space/ an unknown territory. For all its negative character, which results in agnosticism regarding the metascientific, the setting of a boundary to the known field of science still is 'an actual positive cognition' (Erkenntnis). As Kant explains, 'this limitation does not prevent reason from leading us to the objective boundary of experience, namely, to the relation to something which is not itself an object of experience but is the ground of all experience' (Prolegomena, § 59, 361). While we can positively acknowledge the fact of the intellectual boundary, we can only entertain the idea of what lies beyond it. And yet, this idea is not unfounded.

Kant and the Sublime 45 Summary Kant's transcendental analysis of the sublime yields results which are worth pondering. Some of these results enrich our understanding of transcendent experiences. Others have the advantage of discarding philosophical errors. Still others begin to situate intellectually the human concern for the mystery. The first important point that Kant makes is that in the experience of the sublime, the human imagination reaches out to the infinite. Both the mathematically and the dynamically sublime bespeak the movement of the mind towards transcendence. The former does so in the experience of perceiving ever-increasing dimensions; the latter, in the experience of being in contact with the overwhelming power of nature. The sublime is grounded in the fact that reason goes beyond the imagination as it participates in an unknown realm which lies beyond measurement (in mathematics) or beyond fear (in nature). Although never comprehended, the absolute measure and the absolute security are given by reason, which belongs in the realm of freedom. Second, Kant's aesthetics as well as his overall critical philosophy show that his genius consists in having emphasized the mediation of the mind. From his transcendental viewpoint, the sublime resides, not in the world, but in the interplay of the faculties. Nature's role is not abolished but it serves only to put in the limelight the dignity of reason, which can stand up to nature. Natural phenomena are significant occasions through which the mystery of the human spirit is reverently acknowledged. However, do Kant's transcendental convictions run counter to what phenomenology suggests, that it is the world that appears unlimited and sublime to the observer? Would phenomenological narratives be at loggerheads with his thesis that the superiority of the mind is constitutive of the sublime? No, provided we do not lose sight of his distinction between the idea of the infinite (which comes from human reason) and the experience of indefinite progressions (wherein the world only appears unbounded without necessarily being infinite). We will return to this issue in the third section of chapter 9. Third, despite his excessive extolment of human interiority, there are a few indications that Kant does not favour a self-contained anthropocentrism. The Critique of Judgment mentions the difference between 'that Being which inspires deep respect in us' and 'the faculty which is planted in us' (§ 28, 264; see § 29, 265). To anticipate chapter 5, on the incompatibilities of Kant and Hegel, we can say that Kant denies

46 Part 2: Historic Contributions infinity to the human person, while affirming its infinitude, that is, its freedom from the intellectual limitations of the other earthly beings. Since for Kant the idea of the infinite is part of our mental apparatus, we may speak of infinitude as being the actual openness of the mind to an infinite which is nevertheless beyond our reach. Fourth, Kant's reflections on the sublime do not purport to specify the content or the validity of our idea of God. Although his aesthetic of the sublime requires the idea of a maximum, he recoils from pronouncing on the ontological status of that infinite, in stern disapproval of seventeenth- and eighteenth-century rationalistic speculations concerning the divine. In asserting that the mystery remains inaccessible to human cognition, Kant stands close to Thomas Aquinas, although the latter differs from him in that he makes a case for the truthfulness of human language regarding God.26 In chapter 9, more will be said on the human capacity to assert that there is an infinite. In the opening of this chapter, I alluded to Schleiermacher, James, and Otto, whose writings on transcendent experience exhibit phenomenological similarity and epistemological disparity with Kant. In the next chapter we begin by adverting to the points of likeness and difference between Kant and Schleiermacher.

Chapter 4

Schleiermacher and Absolute Dependence

Friedrich Schleiermacher (1768-1834) is the first modern theologian to have provided a detailed account of transcendent experience. He offers us two different presentations, a rhetorical one and a systematic one, in his masterpieces: On Religion: Speeches to Its Cultured Despisers,1 and The Christian Faith.2 In the Wake of Kant

In connection with what was investigated in chapter 3, it may be of interest to note at the outset that, without mentioning Kant by name, Schleiermacher rejects his anthropocentric interpretation of nature's boundlessness. In his second Speech, Schleiermacher writes: The next thing to meet us in corporeal nature is its material boundlessness, the enormous masses which are scattered over illimitable space and which circulate in measureless orbits. Many hold that the exhaustion of the imagination, when we try to expand our diminished pictures of them to their natural size, is the feeling of the greatness and majesty of the Universe.' He goes on to say that the feeling in question has nothing to do with an 'arithmetical amazement' (1821: 66) but rather amounts to 'that glorious reverence, as exalting as it is humbling, which is the feeling of our relation to the Whole.' He departs from the Kantian view inasmuch as the object of reverence is not the human mind, which could rise above nature, but 'the greatness and majesty of the Universe' (67).3 Still, he comes very close to Kant's explanation of reverence when he declares: 'The religious sense corresponds not to the masses in the outer world, but to their eternal laws. Rise to the height of seeing how these

48 Part 2: Historic Contributions laws equally embrace all things, the greatest and the smallest, the world systems and the mote which floats in the air, and then say whether you are not conscious of the divine unity and the eternal immutability of the world' (67). This is the Kantian theme of the world's unity in its diversity, exhibited in eternal laws, which Schleiermacher has transposed into a more romantic mode. I will return to this theme in the section on mediatedness. A similar transfer takes place regarding Kant's 'feeling of pleasure or displeasure' (das Gefiihl der Lust und Unlust) (CJ, 177 and 196), whose significance in aesthetics has been underlined in our previous chapter. This phrase appears in the first edition of Schleiermacher's Der christliche Glaube (§ 39.2; see § 8, Anmerkung). But its meaning is no longer exactly Kant's since Gefiihl now plays a role in the sphere of religious experience. The phrase frequently recurs in the second edition of the same work, with a further semantic shift, as will become clear in the section on feeling. Also central in Schleiermacher's second edition of Der christliche Glaube (for example at § 62.1) is Kant's thesis that the aesthetic judgment, linked with the feeling of pleasure or displeasure, makes possible the Ubergang, the 'transition' from the realm of knowledge to the realm of freedom, of which Kant speaks in his introduction to the third Critique (CJ, III, 179). Later in this introduction the concept employed by the aesthetic judgment is presented as a 'mediating link' (Vermittelung der Verknupfung) between the concept of nature and the concept of freedom (IX, 197). We will see shortly that Schleiermacher ascribes a different function to the 'transition.' Kant's mapping of human experience is summarized in his introduction to the third Critique (sections III and IX). The preceding chapter has introduced some of its elements in the section on the mediation of the mind. His tripartite framework includes the realms of understanding (science), practical reason (freedom), and judgment (aesthetics). The third is seen as a middle term between the first two. It is an encompassing intermediary in the sense that it discloses a finality which brings together the whole of human experience - scientific, moral, and artistic. In contrast to Kant, Schleiermacher gives religion a central role in the tripartite schema, which he profoundly revises. In the course of our exposition, it will become evident that he adopts critical philosophy's threefold division but only as a point of departure, which he modifies in order to frame his own concept of piety.4

Schleiermacher and Absolute Dependence 49

A Tripartite Division of Human Life Why did Schleiermacher find it necessary to depart from Kant and to base his whole theology on religious experience? At the end of the eighteenth century, Kant's philosophy had radically altered the epistemic status of religion. The first Critique discredits the proofs for the existence of God elaborated by the seventeenth-century rationalists. The second ascribes a remote place to faith, based on the postulates of ethics. And the third (according to the construal put forward in the preceding chapter) merely adumbrates the openness to the infinite that is displayed in the reflective judgment associated with feeling. After Kant, the road to God through pure reason looked definitively blocked, while the grounding of religion in practical reason or in aesthetics appeared extremely tenuous. Accordingly, in his Speeches of 1799, Schleiermacher passionately and rhetorically put forward the thesis that religion is neither knowledge nor morality, but rather, feeling. This contention was greeted with enthusiasm by the romantics. It is typical of that epoch. After all, did Goethe not write, 'Gefiihl ist alles, Name ist Schall und Rausch'?5 No doubt this insistence on feeling set the framework in which the discussion of religion was to be conducted thenceforth in the West.6 The division of reality into three domains - knowledge, action, and religion - is important. On Schleiermacher's account of this division, we can observe an evolution from On Religion to The Christian Faith. In the first edition of On Religion, the three domains are pronounced to be separate (see 1799: 94, 95,101,102). In the second and third edition, the three spheres are even more sharply defined (see Crouter, 1799: 97, n.2). Thus Schleiermacher emphatically states that religion has nothing essentially to do with science and with action (see 1821:14-21 and 27-7). He maintains that 'piety springs necessarily by itself and 'that a province of its own in the mind belongs to it, in which it has unlimited sway' (21). 'Only by keeping quite outside the range both of science and of practice can it maintain its proper sphere and character' (37). Knowledge, he claims, 'is a different department of life from religion' (46). Therefore, 'piety takes its place alongside of science and practice' (37; my emphasis). We should not forget that this stress on the distinctiveness of religion is part of Schleiermacher's concern, in his Speeches, to combat the reduction of religion to either theory or ethics. One does not in the least

50 Part 2: Historic Contributions upgrade its status by diluting it into a rationalistic philosophy or by confining it to mere motivation for right action. On the other hand, as he discusses the relations between knowledge, morality, and piety, he more appropriately calls them 'functions of life' and he is at pains to stress 'their inner unity and equality.' Thanks to their interconnectedness, they 'strive to pass over into one another' (46). Thus, in the process of objectification, religious feeling is converted into knowledge; likewise, in its expansion into daily activity, it becomes a general inspiration for action. Religion, therefore, is not strictly speaking a third domain, added to knowledge and action. Consequently, no special faculty is required to account for its role: 'Nor do we stand over against the World and in it at the same time by any one faculty, but by our whole being' (93). In the first edition of The Christian Faith, Schleiermacher is not so preoccupied with emphasizing the separate basis of religion. Frommigkeit, 'piety/ as it is now called, is no longer placed apart, alongside the domains of science and action but is situated at their common source, prior to any differentiation into the two. Incipient in the Speeches and well-established in the Dialektik, this view is fully explicated in the second edition of The Christian Faith. Talking about the interrelations between 'Feeling, Knowing, and Doing/ he writes: 'the unity of these is indeed not one of the two or the three themselves; but no one can place this unity alongside of these others as a co-ordinate third or fourth entity. The unity rather is the essence of the subject itself, which manifests itself in those severally distinct forms, and is thus, to give it a name which in this particular connexion is permissible, their common foundation' (§ 3.3). The role of piety with regard to Knowing and Doing is reasserted as 'the determination of self-consciousness which comes in between the two' (§ 3.5). 'For, indeed, it is the case in general that the immediate self-consciousness is always the mediating link in the transition between moments in which Knowing predominates and those in which Doing predominates, so that a different Doing may proceed from the same Knowing in different people according as a different determination of self-consciousness enters in' (§ 3.4). The variety of determinations results from the many outside objects to which consciousness must adjust, while the unification of consciousness comes from inside, namely from the subjective foundation. Accordingly, if it is to integrate all human endeavours, both cognitive and moral, religion must be prereflective and pre-active.

Schleiermacher and Absolute Dependence 51 Feeling Throughout his major writings, Schleiermacher consistently uses the word Gefiihl, 'feeling/ as a synonym for prereflective consciousness.7 For him, Gefiihl has a meaning different from ordinary feelings such as sensations, emotions, sentiments, or unconscious states, which are often subjectivistic. It is a Zustand, a 'mental state/ that consists in 'selfconsciousness' (§ 3.2; at § 35.1, it is called a Gemuthszustand, 'a state of our heart and soul'). Schleiermacher tells his friend Dr Liicke that he would have used the word Gesinnung, 'disposition/ in H.G. Tzschirner's sense, had it not in contemporary parlance acquired a predominantly practical connotation.8 So he prefers to call that feeling a Stimmung, a permanent 'mood.'9 In the inner life of the human self, this stable feeling is by no means merely subjective, since it has to do as much with the general (allgemeine) as with the individual self-consciousness.10 By 'general/ Schleiermacher means that the experience (Erfahrung) is 'expected of everyone' (jedem ... zugemutet) (§ 3.2). In Steffen's definition, borrowed by Schleiermacher, feeling is 'the immediate presence of the whole, undivided personal existence' (§ 3.2, Note).11 Far from being subjectivistic, this sense of personal existence is always intimately bound up with the awareness of the world and the awareness of God (§ 30.1, § 32.2). Several commentators have pointed out that Schleiermacher's feeling of absolute dependence is not an emotion. '"Gefuhl" ist nicht ein Sentiment.'12 'By "feeling" he did not mean an emotional quality either. Having this feeling is not in the same class with having a feeling of pleasure or of anger. It is rather a mode of self-consciousness.'13 However, Gefuhl was bound to be misunderstood by careless readers who would hear its usual psychological ring and be lured by the Siren's seductive sound. As we shall see, William James ranks as a typical representative of those who emphasize emotion in religious experience. Schleiermacher himself led many astray by repeatedly employing fromme Erregungen, 'pious emotions.' What has often been overlooked is that having emotions or feelings (usually plural: Erregungen, Gefuhle) belongs to the realm of the antithesis, in which we find contrasts such as pleasure/pain or objective/introvertive, whereas feeling (singular: Gefuhl) characterizes the realm in which the antithesis between subject and its objects is abolished (§ 5). Although related to pious emotions, feeling nevertheless transcends the usual gamut of human affectivity (§ 34).

52 Part 2: Historic Contributions It is noteworthy that the second edition of Der christliche Glaube deleted the few affective connotations that Gefuhl had in the first.14 For instance, the 'inclination' (Neigung) of the first (§ 8) disappears in the second (§ 3); the 'yearning' (Sehnsucht) of the first (§ 10, Corollary 3) is absent in the second (§ 5, where the Corollary is dropped altogether). The only seemingly affective words that remain in the second edition are 'joy' and 'sorrow' (Freude and Leid) (see § 3.2). Far from being emotions, they respectively characterize the ease and the difficulty with which the feeling of absolute dependence is made present in human consciousness. Moreover, although the first edition (at § 39.2) uses the pair 'pleasure'/'displeasure' (Lust/Unlust) to evoke this opposition between ease and difficulty, the second edition confines this pair to the domain of the antithesis (§ 5.4, § 32.1).15 On the one hand, joy and sorrow are defined as two modalities of the basic feeling in the higher degree of self-consciousness (where antithesis is superseded), depending on the ease or the difficulty with which that consciousness is felt; on the other hand, pleasure and displeasure belong to the sphere of emotions, that is, to the second degree of self-consciousness (characterized by antithesis). Anyone familiar with the intricate hermeneutical problems created by such a vocabulary cannot but sympathize with Paul Tillich's judgment that 'Schleiermacher made a great mistake' when he used the term Gefuhl to refer to a profound religious experience that lies beyond the realm of human emotions.16 Then why did he persist in using this ambiguous word? The best answer to this question is the following: 'By saying that this is a feeling Schleiermacher meant to distinguish it from knowing as well as from acting.'17 And to highlight this important distinction, the author of The Christian Faith has recourse to an expression that explicates what Gefuhl is supposed to convey: unmittelbares Selbstbewufitsein, 'immediate self-consciousness.' This phrase does not carry the ambiguity of Gefuhl and should have replaced it rather than coexisted with it. In the first edition of Der christliche Glaube, feeling is defined as that which allows the self to go back and forth from the realm of knowing to the realm of willing. It is seen as an intermediary, a 'midpoint' (Mittelpunkt, § 8.2; see 1821:123,141-2, 224, 226, 232, 236-7). Friedrich Beisser calls it a 'pivot' (Angelpunkt)18 between knowing and willing. I would compare knowing and willing to the constituents of the self's foreground, which find their unity in a background, that is, piety. Basing himself on Schleiermacher's lectures of 1814 in the Dialektik,

Schleiermacher and Absolute Dependence 53 John Thiel writes: 'The transcendent ground eludes the activities of thinking and willing, but may be apprehended in the convergence of these activities.'19 The antithesis of these activities is cancelled at a point of identity called 'feeling, which exists in the oscillation (Wechsel)' between these activities, 'as the final end of thinking and the beginning of willing.'20 Commenting on the 1822 lectures of the same work,21 Marianna Simon points out that the hinge between thinking and willing is the locus of 'non-difference' (Indifferenz) in which all oppositions are abolished. She interprets Scheiermacher's 'zero point' (Nullpunkt) as a kind of 'still point' (point mort in French) that the self experiences at the transitional moment when it has just completed its return to itself (in knowing) and is about to initiate a going out of itself (in action).22 Or, as another commentator remarks, the indifference point is intermediate between 'the having-ceased of one function and the not-yet-havingbegun of the other function.'23 However, the Nullpunkt is never directly reached independently of thinking and willing.24 Each in its own distinctive way, these two activities lead to the midpoint and flow out of it. As we saw at the beginning of this chapter, Schleiermacher speaks of ein Ubergang, a crossing, a passage back and forth between thinking and willing. He calls it 'immediate self-consciousness' or 'feeling.'25 We find an illustration of this experience in a lecture on Christian ethics, in which Schleiermacher illustrates how 'primordial consciousness' can issue in a thought or in a deed: 'It becomes a thought when I reduce what is expressed to its effective ground; it becomes a deed when I find in it a summons to act in accordance with the divine will. Consider the first encounter of Andrew and John with Jesus. The influence of the divine was there first, and from that arose a thought and a deed. The thought was that we have found the Messiah; the deed was that they began to communicate with him. The primordial, from which both things arose, was the impression of the divinity of the redeemer.'26 It must be observed that in our treatment of Schleiermacher the focus has been and will remain on the general form of immediate consciousness {The Christian Faith, §§ 1-61) and not on the specifically Christian form (§§ 62-172). This approach follows the one adopted by Schleiermacher, who thinks that the general form is worth presenting and clarifying in itself, even though, as he insists, it never exists apart from a specific form, be it Christian, Jewish, or any other. This order of presentation was maintained in the second edition of the The Christian Faith,

54 Part 2: Historic Contributions after Schleiermacher had seriously considered beginning by introducing the specifically Christian form of immediate consciousness.27 Mediatedness We have seen that feeling or self-consciousness is immediate for Schleiermacher. But he also asserts that it is mediated. At this stage, therefore, it becomes necessary to elucidate his concept of mediation. In an explanatory note to his Speeches, he states that mediation is required because one cannot be directly conscious of the infinite. "But the Infinite, meaning not something unconditioned, but the infinity of existence generally, we cannot be conscious of immediately and through itself. It can only be through a finite object, by means of which our tendency to postulate and seek a world, leads us from detail and part to the All and the Whole' (1821:103, n.2). This text hints at the fact that the mediation has two components. First, a finite object must be perceived, never in isolation but always as part of the universe. In a preceding note the author claims that 'on each occasion we are conscious of God ... not by any one thing taken by itself, but by it only in so far as it is embraced in the unity and completeness' (24, n.4). In another note, he asserts that 'the feeling of an absolute dependence ... is occasioned by the action of single things.' And the explanation he gives is more or less the same: 'If, however, the single thing does not work upon us as a single thing, but as part of the Whole, it will be, in acting upon us, an opening for the Whole' (106, n.5). Those comments offered by Schleiermacher allow us to situate the second component of the mediation, namely 'our tendency to postulate and seek a world.' This tendency, which should be seen as typical of human intentionality, is the all-important linchpin in the mechanism whereby we get a sense of the infinite. It enables us to move from our inner desire for unity to the intuition of the universe. 'The sense of the Whole must be first found, chiefly within our own minds, and from thence transferred to corporeal nature ... The Universe portrays itself in the inner life, and then the corporeal is comprehensible from the spiritual. If the mind is to produce and sustain religion it must operate upon us as a world and as in a world' (1821: 71). We also find in The Christian Faith the two components of the mediation. Regarding the first, 'the transition to a definite and perceptible magnitude [in degrees of God-consciousness] is always dependent on some other fact of consciousness' (§ 62.1). The author mentions 'the

Schleiermacher and Absolute Dependence 55 development of the God-consciousness from any given stimulus and in every situation' (§ 62.2). This development is by no means confined to 'particular activities or states' or 'moments of devotional meditation or ascetic practices' that we could isolate from the rest of our life. On the contrary, it is 'connected with our ordinary vocational activity.' Situating these relations in his tripartite division, Schleiermacher states that the God-consciousness occurs 'in moments of activity proper and of thought proper.' At the same time, it is not reducible to mundane activity or thought: the 'blessedness' of transcendent experience is present in them 'only in so far as they have their ground in the Godconsciousness, newly awakened to life' (§ 87.2). More specifically, he believes in the importance of fellowship or communion. Religious feeling can be shared 'by means of facial expression, gesture, tones, and (indirectly) words; and so becomes to other people a revelation of the inward.' Eventually such an expression 'passes into living imitation ...' There is, then, a definite stimulation coming from other people: 'As regards the feeling of absolute dependence in particular, everyone will know that it was first awakened (geweckt) in him in the same way, by the communicative and stimulative power of expression or utterance' (§ 6.2; see § 10.2). In Christianity, for example, the general God-consciousness is interlaced with a relation to Christ: 'In the actual life of the Christian, therefore, the two are always found in combination: there is no general God-consciousness which has not bound up with it a relation to Christ, and no relationship with the Redeemer which has no bearing on the general God-consciousness' (§ 62.3). Indeed, a similar relation is also found in Judaism and Islam: 'there is no purely monotheistic piety in which the God-consciousness alone and by itself forms the content of religious experiences. Just as there is always present in Christian piety a relation to Christ in conjunction with the God-consciousness, so in Judaism there is always a relation to the Lawgiver, and in Mohammedanism to the revelation given through the Prophet' (§ 33.3). With respect to the second component, our self-consciousness is extended so as to become identical with a consciousness of the world, that is, of 'the whole of finite being' (§ 54.1). This sense of totality is central to religious consciousness (§ 8.1). What happens is that 'we identify ourselves in our self-consciousness with the whole world' (§ 46.2) and such a merging brings about a universal consciousness of finitude: 'in so far as we are constituent parts of the world, and therefore in so far as we take up the world into our self-consciousness and

56 Part 2: Historic Contributions expand the latter into a general consciousness of finitude, we are conscious of ourselves as absolutely dependent' (§ 8.2). From this vantage point, God can be described 'as the basis of this togetherness of being in its various distributions' (§ 30.1). Our tendency to postulate a world derives from what Wallace Stevens and David Tracy call a 'blessed rage for order.' Schleiermacher himself speaks of 'the general coherence always postulated in every human consciousness' (§ 30.1), which he sees embedded in our intelligence (§ 33.1). A movement of expansion spontaneously takes place within us. As we begin with 'a partial identity (between subject and object),' much is still set over against us and therefore our self-awareness is restricted. 'That which is set in opposition to us must naturally decrease as our self-consciousness widens.' We can, for instance, 'widen it to the self-consciousness of the human race' (§ 34.1). Moreover, by discovering 'the relatedness of nature' - for example as we are impressed by 'the periodical renewing of life's functions' (§ 34.2) - 'we become conscious that we are placed in a universal nature-system, i.e., in proportion as we are conscious of ourselves as part of the world' (§ 34, thesis). Individuals are conscious of dependence as members of the world, as moments in the life of the universe. Our consciousness of the world plays the role of a mediation because it is not the end result of the process. This process of consciousnesswidening culminates, not in a world-consciousness, but rather in the God-consciousness.28 'For we recognize in our self-consciousness an awareness of the world, but it is different from the awareness of God in the same self-consciousness.' While the world is 'a divided and disjointed unity which is at the same time the totality of all contrasts and differences and of all the resulting manifold determinations,' God alone is 'the absolute undivided unity' (§ 32.2). As a consequence, in our relation to the world, an interaction obtains between its parts and ourselves; accordingly the feeling of dependence is inevitably matched by a feeling of freedom. By contrast, in our relation to God, we solely experience dependence. These decisive observations will be developed below, when we expound the immediacy of absolute dependence. In sum, the mediatedness of transcendent experience is based on two factors: first, the availability, outside of us, of finite objects which belong to a universal nature-system; and second, the active presence, inside of us, of an intentionality which is capable of interrelating the parts of our world (ourselves included) and of envisioning their totality as dependent on God.

Schleiermacher and Absolute Dependence 57

Absolute Dependence Let us now pay close attention to § 4 of The Christian Faith, where Schleiermacher introduces the concept of absolute dependence. In the previous paragraph, he reiterates 'the assertion that piety is a state in which Knowing, Feeling, and Doing are combined' (§ 3.5). But he goes beyond § 3 as he points to the common source of our knowing and doing. He begins by introducing a basic distinction, between 'abiding-inself' and 'passing-beyond-self (Insichbleiben and Aussichheraustreten).

On the one hand, feeling is sheer 'abiding-in-self' and therefore 'it belongs altogether to the realm of receptivity' (§ 3.3). On the other hand, both knowing and doing are forms of 'passing-beyond-self (although doing is more entirely so). Schleiermacher explains 'how a Doing can arise from a Knowing/ and vice versa. Whether a doing or a knowing, it cannot arise 'except as mediated by a determination of self-consciousness.' Such a determination, or feeling, is the central pivot, so that 'the piety is just the determination of self-consciousness which comes in between the two' (§ 3.5). Thereupon follows the demonstration that this fundamental determination is 'the consciousness of being absolutely dependent' (§ 4, thesis).29 In § 4.1 he wants to account for the fact that, in self-consciousness, there is an identical and a variable element. Two kinds of consciousness are presented as inseparable. 'In any actual state of consciousness ... we are never simply conscious of our Selves in their unchanging identity, but are always at the same time conscious of a changing determination of them' (In keinem wirklichen Bewujltsein ... sind wir unsres Selbst an und fur sich, wie es immer dasselbe ist, allein bewufit, sondern immer zugleich einer wechselnden Bestimmtheit desselben). And 'every consciousness of

self is at the same time the consciousness of a variable state of being' (jedes Selbstbewujltsein ist zugleich das eines veranderlichen Soseins). In the

same paragraph, the permanence is ascribed to 'the I' (das Ich, translated as 'the Ego'), whereas the variability is generated by a factor called an 'other' (the German andere must be translated here not with an uppercase but with a lowercase 'o'). It is in interaction with 'this other' (Dieses andere) that determination takes place. The pair 'unchanging identity'/'changing determination' is then rephrased as 'a self-caused element'/'a non-self-caused element' (ein Sichselbstsetzen /ein Sichselbstnichtsogesetzthaben),30 as 'a Being'/'a Hav-

58 Part 2: Historic Contributions ing-by-some-means-come-to-be' (ein Sein / ein Irgendwiegewordenseiri),

or again as 'the existence of the subject for itself /'its co-existence with an other' (das Sein des Subjektes fiir sich / Zusammensein mit anderem)

(§ 4.1). There are semantic shifts in these equivalences but the meanings are sufficiently close so as not to weaken the demonstration Schleiermacher is engaged in. The second part of § 4.1 begins as follows: 'Now to these two elements, as they exist together in the temporal self-consciousness, correspond in the subject its Receptivity (Empfanglichkeit) and its spontaneous Activity (Selbsttatigkeit).' The verb 'correspond' (entsprechen) seems to

suggest that activity and receptivity respectively characterize the first and the second member of the above-mentioned pairs but a careful reading of § 4.2 can dispel this first impression. Schleiermacher shows that both activity (the movement from within) and receptivity (the movement from without) are present in each member of the pairs. From the point of view of consciousness, then, receptivity becomes the 'feeling of Dependence' (Abhangigkeitsgefuhl) and activity becomes the 'feeling of Freedom' (Freiheitsgefuhl). The former sums up the receptive determinations of self-consciousness, whereas the latter sums up the active determinations. Schleiermacher proceeds to claim that the element of receptivity is always the primary one for two reasons: first, because we cannot think away our co-existence with the 'other' that always affects us in some way; and second, because all our actions are given their direction from a prior moment in which something is known and responded to (see § 4.1). These two reasons are noteworthy, for they clearly exclude the idea of a dependence that would be individualistic or merely passive. On the contrary, absolute dependence encompasses both our relatedness and our spontaneous activity. Indeed, without the presence of the other as influencing us or as being influenced by us and without our dynamic aliveness due to 'God-consciousness' (§ 106.1), neither the feeling of partial dependence nor the feeling of partial freedom would occur. Thus both of these feelings combine into a consciousness of 'reciprocity' or 'interaction' (Wechselwirkung) when the self and its environment act upon each other (see § 4.2). At this point, Schleiermacher engages in a masterful demonstration. 'Now let us suppose the totality of all moments of feeling, of both kinds, as one whole: then the corresponding Other [Andere, which only at this stage comes with a capital "A"] is also to be supposed as a totality or as one.' Then, 'we think of the total 'outside' as one, and

Schleiermacher and Absolute Dependence 59 moreover (since it contains other receptivities and activities to which we have a relation) as one together with ourselves, that is, as a World.' This situation, which is basic to our human condition, is 'an equipoise' between the two 'limits' that are dependence and freedom (§ 4.2). In the next paragraph, he dismisses the possibility, among humans, of a feeling of absolute freedom. To exclude it, he brings back the reason already mentioned: 'For if the feeling of freedom expresses a forthgoing activity, this activity must have an object which has been somehow given to us, and this could not have taken place without an influence of the object upon our receptivity.' Therefore, this feeling of relative freedom presupposes a prior receptivity expressed in a feeling of dependence. Now what about the other alternative? Is there a feeling of absolute dependence? Schleiermacher answers affirmatively. But one must observe that this feeling does not have any limited object because such an object would imply 'a counter-influence' on the part of the human subject and hence a feeling of relative freedom. The feeling of absolute dependence, or of being acted upon by an Other on which we do not act, is determined by something much larger than a limited object. 'But the self-consciousness which accompanies all our activity, and therefore, since that is never zero, accompanies our whole existence, and negatives absolute freedom, is itself precisely a consciousness of absolute dependence; for it is the consciousness that the whole of our spontaneous activity comes from a source outside of us.' (§ 4.3). It is important to notice that the feeling of absolute dependence is basic to both the feeling of relative dependence and the feeling of relative freedom. It is not the result of some one-sided emphasis on the passive side of human existence. On the contrary, the feeling of absolute dependence encompasses both the active and the passive aspects of the self's interactions in the world.31 The Awareness of the 'Whence' In The Christian Faith § 4.4 is the key text concerning the 'Whence' of our dependency. According to this passage, 'the Whence (Woher) of our receptive and active existence, as implied in this self-consciousness, is to be designated by the word "God."' Schleiermacher sharply differentiates two kinds of human knowledge regarding God. The first one derives from religious experience, which provides an idea of God: 'this idea (Vorstellung), which is nothing more than the expression (das

60 Part 2: Historic Contributions Aussprechen) of the feeling of absolute dependence, is the most direct reflection (die unmittelbarste Reflexion) upon it and the most original idea with which we are here concerned.' The second kind of knowledge concerning God is 'a matter of conception' and 'independent of any feeling.' Schleiermacher does not want to dispute the importance of such a knowledge, which comes through education or emerges thanks to personal and communal thinking. In order to safeguard the primacy of the feeling of absolute dependence, he finds it necessary 'to oppose the view that this feeling of dependence is itself conditioned by some previous knowledge about God.' His claim does not sufficiently take into consideration the fact that the religious feeling is inevitably interpreted. Furthermore, there are degrees of interpretation. He seems to lose sight of this fact when he writes, 'to feel oneself absolutely dependent and to be conscious of being in relation with God are one and the same thing.' In an effort to unravel this ambiguity, Ingolf Dalferth suggests a useful distinction: 'to be aware of the relation to God is not to be aware of God but of our utter dependence on something which is in no way dependent on us or on anything with which we interact (the "Whence" of our absolute dependence).'32 From the awareness of our utter dependence to the awareness of God, there is an interpretive amplification. This distinction has two advantages. By saying that the feeling of absolute dependence is - or at least can be - unaffected by any idea of God, Schleiermacher's main concern would be warranted. And by saying that this awareness never exists without some sort of knowledge, we should honour a point made by Wayne Proudfoot, who argues that every religious experience must include cognitional elements. As he explains: Schleiermacher is pointing to what others have called a sense of finitude. Piety so defined, however, is certainly not independent of concepts and beliefs. To say that the religious person is conscious of being absolutely dependent is to attribute to him or her the concept of dependence and that of complete dependence. The concept of dependence is not only a sophisticated one but one that is concerned with causal explanation ... Despite Schleiermacher's claims to the contrary, to attribute to a person the consciousness of absolute dependence is to ascribe to him or her the concept of dependence as well as that of some source on which one is totally dependent.33

Schleiermacher and Absolute Dependence 61 What is the origin of our interpretation that there is indeed a feeling of absolute dependence? In Die Mystik und das Wort in which Emil Brunner often misreads Schleiermacher, he nevertheless asks the pertinent question: how can the idea of the absolute, the last abstraction produced by thinking, be the content of a feeling and indeed of a purely passive feeling?34 Consciousness as such cannot provide a description of the 'Whence.' As expressed in thought and language, religious experience is conditioned by some previous knowledge. Difficulties such as these were already mentioned by Karl Gottlieb Bretschneider in two essays (1825) and an appendix (1828) that he devoted to evaluating the first edition of Der christliche Glaube.35 According to Bretschneider, (1) only through reflection can we become conscious of absolute dependence, and (2) without some prior conception of God as good and wise, the feeling of dependence would be so obscure and indefinite that we would not know whether we are dealing with a power eliciting love and trust, or with pure fear and trembling.36 Although Schleiermacher's reply to those objections in his First Letter to Lucke was rather cursory and inadequate,37 his writings exhibit many of the elements - in particular the distinction between prereflective and reflective consciousness - that are required to solve such problems. Bretschneider writes: 'Feeling could precede knowledge, only in case the being of God should touch the human mind before it knew God. In this case, however, a man would have only the feeling of an obscure something, not the feeling of God.'38 But Schleiermacher himself admits: 'The feeling of absolute dependence becomes a clear self-consciousness only as this idea comes simultaneously into being' (§ 4.4).39 Obviously, by 'clear self-consciousness,' he means reflective self-consciousness. Could we say, then, that prereflective self -consciousness does not presuppose any knowledge, whereas reflective self-consciousness does? This is what Dalferth contends; and to clarify the matter he distinguishes 'an underlying indeterminate structure of god-consciousness' and 'a specifically determined consciousness of God.' The first is a 'pre-reflective capacity, common to all rational beings,' 'a foundational structure of human existence.' The second 'requires a specific idea of God whose contingent content is a function of the material used to represent God symbolically and, accordingly, differs considerably between persons, groups and religions.'40 Dalferth's phrase, 'god-consciousness,' however, is not felicitous, be-

62 Part 2: Historic Contributions cause it incorporates a semantic content that belongs to the reflective stage. The use of a lower-case character for 'god' only attenuates an ambiguity regarding a so-called indeterminate structure which cannot exist without being 'specifically determined.' This ambiguity is committed in the first place by Schleiermacher himself when he writes that absolute dependence allows us to include 'the God-consciousness in the self-consciousness' (§ 4.4). Even the phrase, 'feeling of absolute dependence/ takes in too much interpretation: can we consider as prereflective the experience of receiving, as a member of the finite world, all one's being and activity from an unknown Source? Talking about the naming of the 'Whence,' Lash writes: 'the name that we give, the content of the account that we offer, must be derived from elsewhere: it is not, and it can never be, given in or furnished by the feeling itself.'41 To support his construal, Nicholas Lash underlines the 'for us' in the following excerpt from The Christian Faith: 'the Whence ... is to be designated by the word "God," and ... this is for us the really original signification of that word' (§ 4.4; the 'for us' recurs in the same paragraph). Further down Schleiermacher writes that ideas such as 'God' come from religious poetry or the experience of ordinary life (see § 50.1). Lash is right in his contention that the meaning of 'God' comes from elsewhere; but Proudfoot, with whom he disagrees on this topic, can equally find evidence in § 4.4 for maintaining that, according to Schleiermacher, 'the word God ... derives its meaning solely from the feeling of absolute dependence.'42 The problem remains unsolved in Schleiermacher's first letter to Liicke, where he asserts that piety is 'the acknowledgment (Anerkennung) of our absolute dependence.'43 Can there be a prior state in which this acknowledgment would be made without a meaningful content? Both Lash and Proudfoot deem this to be impossible, despite their difference in interpreting what Schleiermacher actually says. Moreover, one should ask: does Schleiermacher himself think of a direct experience of God? As far as this question is concerned, he offers, in the same paragraph, two statements which stand in tension. On the one hand, we find what we call statement (a): 'God is given (gegeben) to us in feeling in an original way; and if we speak of an original revelation of God to man or in man, the meaning will always be just this, that, along with the absolute dependence which characterizes not only man but all temporal existence, there is given to man also the immediate self-consciousness of it, which becomes a consciousness of God (Gottesbezvufttsein)' (§ 4.4).44 The words, 'which becomes,' point to a

Schleiermacher and Absolute Dependence 63 succession of two steps in an interpreted consciousness. In the first step, consciousness of oneself as absolutely dependent is more immediate. In the second, one becomes mediatedly aware that this is indeed a consciousness of God. Dalferth rightly comments: 'It is not something given directly in our experience of the world or of ourselves but only indirectly with our self-consciousness as the Whence of our utter dependence.'45 Hence, to his first statement Schleiermacher brings the following corrective, which we shall call statement (b): 'On the other hand, any possibility of God being in any way given is entirely excluded, because anything that is outwardly given must be given as an object exposed to our counter-influence, however slight this may be. The transference of the idea of God to any perceptible object, unless one is all the time conscious that it is a piece of purely arbitrary symbolism, is always a corruption.' (§ 4.4).46 According to statement (a), what is given is the immediate consciousness primarily of absolute dependence and secondarily of God; according to statement (b), God is said never to be given. The first edition of Der christliche Glaube puts it more simply: 'the supreme Being is not given externally even to these people themselves [the heralds of God], but internally as something which co-determines their self-consciousness' (§ 9.4). What is rejected is a naive construal of theophanies as registered by the senses; what is affirmed is an experience of God within self-consciousness. As Schleiermacher explained to Liicke, the God-consciousness is not the deity itself, but the divine presence in the world. This presence is felt in self-, world-, or God-consciousness.47 It is through the self- and world-consciousness that the God-consciousness obtains in human experience. This mediatedness is ascribed to the fact that God is not an object of experience. 'There is no such thing as an isolated perception of deity. Rather, we perceive the deity only in and with the collective system of perception. The deity is just as surely incomprehensible as the knowledge of it is the basis of all knowledge. Exactly the same is true on the side of feeling.'48 In light of Dalferth's distinction between awareness of the relation to God and awareness of God, I would further differentiate the elements involved. First, the relation of absolute dependence is an ontological fact which is foundational and independent of any consciousness. Second, self-consciousness exists at a level that is prior to questioning, understanding, and formulating. As non-reflective, this self-consciousness is not explicitly adverted to and thus requires no words derived

64 Part 2: Historic Contributions from extrinsic knowledge. Third, as reflected upon, this self-consciousness needs some extrinsic knowledge. For self-consciousness to become reflectively aware of itself as absolute dependence and Godconsciousness, an interpretive context must be provided, which is not derived from religious experience itself but can be influenced by it. Experience and Objectification In light of those distinctions, we must highlight the special character of religious experience in Schleiermacher's eyes. In this regard his writings attest to the fact that such experience is both like and unlike common experience. On the one hand, especially in the Speeches, his vocabulary is experiential through and through (see 1799:112-13; 1821:41-3); on the other hand, religious feeling seems remote. Even in the Speeches, which appeal to the awareness of his readers, there are indications that, since the experience eludes them, it could be a nonexperience after all. 'It is this earlier moment I mean, which you always experience yet never experience ... It is scarcely in time at all, so swiftly it passes; it can scarcely be described, so little does it properly exist' (1821:43). Again, 'it is recollection of what is outside of all time' (44). As he addresses the cultured despisers of religion, he appeals to their awareness while insisting that what they intuit lies beyond the Kantian field of experience, delimited by space and time. In chapter 9,1 endeavour to explicate the analogical status of religious experience. The Christian Faith also resorts to 'experience' (Erfahrung): 'In the first place, it is everybody's experience that there are moments in which all thinking and willing retreat behind a self-consciousness of one form or another; but, in the second place, that at times this same form of self-consciousness persists unaltered during a series of diverse acts of thinking and willing, taking up no relation to these, and thus not being in the proper sense even an accompaniment of them' (§ 3.2). What precedes this quotation in § 3.2 makes it clear that Schleiermacher contrasts 'objective (gegenstandlich) consciousness' and immediate self-consciousness. On the one hand, as objective, that is, as 'representation' (Vorstellung), 'this kind of self-consciousness appears as an accompaniment of the state itself.' On the other hand, 'the real immediate self-consciousness, which is not representation but in the proper sense feeling, is by no means always simply an accompaniment.' To better understand this assertion, let us call upon the first edition of the Glaubenslehre. In a passage where he rejects an assumption ex-

Schleiermacher and Absolute Dependence 65 pressed by a fellow theologian, Schleiermacher writes: 'the claim that feeling is only an accompaniment is contrary to experience' (§ 8, Anmerkung; see von der Luft, 215, n.3). Having just maintained that 'feeling is the seat (der Siz) of piety' (§ 8), Schleiermacher rules out the hypothesis that it could amount to a mere accompaniment. To repeat, whereas objective self-consciousness can be, in a sense, an accompaniment, immediate self-consciousness is never a mere accompaniment. However, in a passage on absolute dependence that we quoted earlier, the author mentions 'the self-consciousness which accompanies all our activity' (§ 4.3).49 This assertion leads me to think that in the puzzling quotations of my two preceding paragraphs, what is denied is that feeling or self-consciousness is only an accompaniment, something alongside specific acts, something extrinsically juxtaposed to them. As objectified, self-consciousness looks like a mere accompaniment, since it is detached from the acts that it accompanies. But as unobjectified, self-consciousness is interior: it is an accompaniment that is intrinsic to the activities themselves. Duke and Fiorenza aptly express those two kinds of accompaniment: Immediate self-consciousness mediates between the individual acts of consciousness, accompanying them and unifying them in a presence of the totality of the self. Yet, according to Schleiermacher, immediate selfconsciousness is by no means just an 'accompaniment,' as can be confirmed by two types of experience available to everyone. The first occurs in moments when thinking and willing withdraw, leaving the self-consciousness as such to predominate. The second occurs when the same mode of self-consciousness persists throughout changing acts of thinking and willing.50

I would submit that the first experience is reflective while the second is prereflective. The first predominates as reflexivity develops; the second always accompanies our various acts as non-objectified consciousness. Such consciousness or feeling is inherent in all our thinking and willing, as we noted earlier. So much for the experiential character of the The Christian Faith. As far as objectification is concerned, does its content derive from Schleiermacher's religious experience or from his philosophy? Thiel argues that this masterpiece is an effort 'to articulate the content of pious feeling within the bounds of proper thinking established in the Dialektik.'5] Both of these works evince a large amount of intellectual

66 Part 2: Historic Contributions construction, which results in a logical frame of reference where religious experience finds a place. Does Schleiermacher manifest an awareness of this fact when he mentions 'the postulated self-consciousness' (§ 33.1, my italics)? This awareness would dovetail very well with his statement that the relation between knowing, doing, and feeling is 'simply borrowed from Psychology' (§ 3.3). It has already been asserted that religious experience can never be objectified, that is, talked about, without some sort of cognitional context. Since the experience of absolute dependence is not a case of reflective knowledge, it would be impossible to characterize this form of self-consciousness unless a philosophic elucidation had afforded the capacity to situate it along the spectrum of human experience. Schleiermacher provides such an elucidation. Being the outcome of a powerful intellectual vision, it has a great architectonic value as well as the ability to incorporate the use of argument. As Proudfoot and Lash have demonstrated, Schleiermacher actually inserts some interpretation into the awareness of the religious feeling. Since the interpretive scheme he proposes in the Dialektik is the result of an epistemological inquiry, obviously it cannot as such be derived from feeling. Conversely, the appeal to experience entails that rather than being a pure theoretical construct, religious feeling must be recognized by philosophy as an experiential theme. Therefore, talking of the modifications of the religious self-consciousness, he asserts that 'in them there comes to expression the human striving to grasp the transcendent. In this there is something that neither thinking nor its relation to being expresses; these lag behind that [modification of immediate selfconsciousness]. It can only be posited as a fact.'52 On the one hand, for him there needs to be a firm distinction between philosophy and religion, because their roots are different. On the other hand, in the elaboration of his dogmatics, he draws from both, although they remain in tension. To the philosopher-believer, Jacobi, who has driven a wedge between his 'heathen' understanding and his 'Christian' feeling, he explains that he floats between two waves which will not commingle their waters: This is my mode of establishing an equilibrium between the two waves; it is in reality, likewise, an alternation of the rising of the one and the sinking of the other. But, dear friend, why should we not be content with this? Oscillation is, after all, the universal form of all finite existence, and there

Schleiermacher and Absolute Dependence 67 exists in me at the same time an immediate consciousness that the undulation is, in fact, caused by the two foci of my own ellipse, and that through it I enjoy the fulness of earthly life. My philosophy and my dogmatics are thus firmly determined not to contradict each other, but for this very reason, neither pretends to be complete; and as long as I have been able to think they have always been more or less attuning themselves to each other and drawing nearer to each other.53 Thus in The Christian Faith the general principles postulated by epistemology in the Dialektik enter into an alliance with the convictions of religious experience.54 Summary Briefly focusing on some of our findings in Schleiermacher's works, let us place them in the context of this book. First, a few things bear noting which have to do with phenomenology. Schleiermacher does not deny that there can be transcendent experiences as discrete events in human life. As we saw, he occasionally speaks of such 'moments.' But he seems to be wary about their being extolled in isolation from the rest of human life, as unrelated and unmediated. By contrast he is keen to situate piety in a tripartite schema where the experience of absolute dependence that stands at the heart of piety amounts less to a definite happening than to a grounding of both knowing and willing. As early as 1780, he writes in his Monologen: 'In quiet tranquillity, in utter simplicity I preserve within me an uninterrupted consciousness of humanity's entire essence.'55 Feeling is not reducible to particular emotions; it amounts to an abiding self-consciousness which unifies the human spirit. The absolute dependency of the self bound with the universe is called God-consciousness. It is at once immediate and mediated. Finally, the awareness of the 'Whence' requires both a prereflective consciousness and a minimum of interpretation so as to be adverted to and eventually objectified.56 These features of experience and immediate self-consciousness will be more thoroughly examined in chapters 8 through 10. Schleiermacher's notion of absolute dependence is different from transcendent experiences in the precise sense that this book has adopted. He sees it as a permanent consciousness and rarely speaks about moments of awareness. But these two aspects are not exclusive of each

68 Part 2: Historic Contributions

other. On specific occasions, which are here called transcendent experiences, the pervasive consciousness of our unity and dependency can occupy our whole field of attention. In both the foregoing chapter and this one, I have aimed at introducing and discussing Kant's and Schleiermacher's views on transcendent experience as fairly as possible. The time has now come to assess the formidable criticisms that Hegel levels at both of them.

Chapter 5

Hegel and the Dialectic of the Infinite

In the two preceding chapters, I expressed agreement with several of Kant's and Schleiermacher's tenets regarding our openness to transcendence. Let us simply recall Kant's phenomenology of the sublime (experienced either in mathematics or in nature), his accentuating the mediation of the human mind, and the status he assigns to the concept of the infinite. We have also come to appreciate Schleiermacher's unique construal of 'feeling' as the abiding self-consciousness that lies at the source of knowing and willing, as well as the locus of absolute dependence and awareness of a 'Whence.' Yet all those views have been challenged by one of the greatest thinkers in Western history. Georg Wilhelm Friedrich Hegel (1770-1831) was the contemporary of Schleiermacher. Both spent the latter part of their life as professors in Berlin. Schleiermacher may be characterized as a theologian who also lectured in philosophy; Hegel was more creative in philosophy and yet had much to say about theology. This chapter will give but a glimpse of the extraordinary richness of Hegel's thought. My approach will be governed by the aim of this book, which is to explain the human spirit's ability to transcend itself. In my exposition I try to cull the greatest number of relevant points made by Hegel, but in the end I shall not be able to accept his position on the dialectic and the infinite. We will proceed according to four steps: first, Hegel's rejection of Kant's understanding of the infinite; second, an assessment of Hegel's critique of Kant; third, Hegel's rejection of Schleiermacher's feeling of absolute dependence; and fourth, an assessment of Hegel's critique of Schleiermacher.

70 Part 2: Historic Contributions

The Rejection of Kant's Infinite Hegel brings into full view what he deems to be the intellectual weaknesses of his idealist predecessors Kant, Fichte, and Jacobi. Yet it would be somewhat inaccurate to say that Hegel rejects Kant's infinite. Actually he thinks that Kant's treatment of the subject matter is unfinished, that it corresponds only to the initial steps of the dialectic. He contends that solely at the crest of his own dialectic do we find the real infinite. As is always the case with that dialectic, a later moment sublates the preceding one. Accordingly, he does not want to repudiate Kant's understanding of the infinite entirely, but rather to subsume it while showing its shortcomings. For Hegel, Kant's mistake consists of fixing the relation of the infinite to the finite at an early stage of the dialectic. Kant does not acknowledge the demands of full intelligibility: he stops short of the mystery and turns this incomprehensible realm over to faith. On the contrary, in a programmatic fashion Hegel wants to respond to 'a need (both for the thinker and for the time) that what was revealed as a mystery in earlier times should now be revealed for thinking itself.' And in an allusion to Kantianism he adds: The mystery remains a complete secret for formal thought' (Encyclopaedia, Preface to the second edition, 17). We can readily recognize Kant's mathematical infinite in passages of Hegel's writings where he characterizes an elementary apprehension of the infinite. The human imagination engages in an endless progression; it lays down a limit, only to pass beyond it and to lay down another one, and then another one, and so forth without ceasing. Yet Hegel sees only 'spurious infinity' in the endless quantitative progress. Consciousness of the genuine infinite comes later (Encyclopaedia, part I, § 104). Similarly with the will: Hegel uses the adjective 'infinite' in the sense of endlessly progressing as he mentions the self-transformation of the will, 'the infinite self-determination of the will' (Philosophy of Right, § 108). Likewise, in the human mind Hegel perceptively observes an innate tendency to move beyond any boundary. He calls this phenomenon 'the unrest of the something in its limit in which it is immanent, an unrest which is the contradiction which impels the something out beyond itself (Science of Logic, 128). Hegel is trying to overcome Kant's absolutization of limits. He views such absolutization as impairing the very dynamism of the mind: 'the very fact that something is determined as a limitation implies that the limitation is already transcended. For a determinateness, a limit, is determined as a limitation only in

Hegel and the Dialectic of the Infinite 71 opposition to its other in general, that is, in opposition to that which is free from the limitation; the other of a limitation is precisely the being beyond it' (134).

For Hegel, there are two ways of transcending. He rejects one of them, Kant's and Fichte's Sollen: 'the ought is the transcending, but still only finite transcending, of the limitation' (135). His own way of transcending, as presented in the Science of Logic, is called Transition of the Finite into the Infinite' (136-7). The brilliant section that follows, entitled 'Infinity' (137-54, including Remark 1 on "The Infinite Progress'), makes it clear that his infinite goes beyond the experience of a merely quantitative progression such as that of the straight line. For him, the Absolute is a dynamic and structured whole in which all the parts in process are intrinsically related to one another, in a movement of 'return to itself (146).l He writes: 'the image of true infinity, bent back into itself, becomes the circle, the line which has reached itself, which is closed and wholly present, without beginning and end' (149). His leading idea seems to derive from the Greek admiration for completeness, exemplified in a perfect shape or artifact. In the Encyclopaedia the foregoing epistemological observation on the transcending of limitations is applied to the presence of the infinite in the finite: 'Something is only known, or even felt, to be a restriction, or a defect, if one is at the same time beyond it.' Hegel explains: 'In cognition, too, restriction and defect are only determined as restriction and defect by comparison with the Idea that is present - the Idea of the universal, of something-whole [sic] and perfect. It is only lack of consciousness, therefore, if we do not see that it is precisely the designation of something as finite or restricted that contains the proof of the actual presence of the Infinite, or Unrestricted, and that there can be no knowledge of limit unless the Unlimited is on this side within consciousness (part I, § 60). Hegel is dissatisfied with a style of thought that he deems bogged down in false oppositions. In a section of the Phenomenology entitled 'Force and the Understanding: Appearance and the Supersensible World' (§§ 132-65), he attempts to show that a difference must be understood as consisting not of two things that stand each against the other but as a group of two terms that belong to each other. Hegel sees each of these opposites as 'the opposite of an opposite' (§ 160), where 'each has its "other" within it and they are only one unity' (§161). The way we think A influences the way we think B, and vice versa, because these two are intrinsically connected. Thus the intellectual movement called 'Force'

72 Part 2: Historic Contributions brings together unity and diversity. 'Being-for-self' and 'being-for-another' are set in reciprocal relation (§§ 134-6). Any unity thus undergoes 'a perpetual diremption of itself (§ 136), or 'a self-sundering' (§ 162), so as to re-appear as a richer synthesis. This general rule, developed in regard to human thinking, is transferred by Hegel to the relations between the world and God. Because he envisages the finite and the infinite 'as mutually defining, implying, explicating each other/2 he strenuously objects to any isolating of either of these two correlates. In a direct allusion to Kant's Verstand (Understanding), he writes: 'Since the Understanding takes the infinite only as something negative and so as something "beyond," it supposes that it is doing all the more honour to the infinite, the more it pushes it into the distance away from itself and removes it from itself as something alien' (Philosophy of Right, § 22).

As early as 1801, Hegel keenly notes that speculative reason (Vernunft) pushes Verstand beyond its self-assigned confinement. Beginning with a Kantian category, he suggests that 'Reason seduces the intellect into producing an objective totality' Then the merely regulative function of reason is exploded as the intellect is overstretched by its contradictions: 'Reason makes the intellect boundless, and in this infinite wealth the intellect and its objective world meet their downfall' (Difference, 95). What actually happens is that each member of the various antitheses (such as finite and infinite, spirit and matter, soul and body, faith and intellect, freedom and necessity) loses the stability it has had in its abstract independence from its counterpart. Both undergo a profound transformation as they are sublated into a higher synthesis called knowing (Wissen). In this fashion the 'fixation of opposites' is overcome (101). They are no longer sheer opposites, as each is a passing over into the other. In another work, dated 1802, Hegel repudiates 'the absolute antithesis of finitude and infinity, reality and ideality, the sensuous and the supersensuous, and the beyondness of what is truly real and absolute' (Faith and Knowledge, 62). He adds: 'if infinity is thus set up against finitude, each is as finite as the other' (63). By being determined in opposition to the finite and by being excluded from the field of knowledge, the infinite becomes limited: it cannot be fathomed dialectically by an unimpaired reason, which might have displayed its infinite dynamism. For Hegel, Kant's thought remains confined within the finite. Later, the mature Hegel offers a thorough discussion of critical philosophy in the Encyclopaedia, part I, §§ 40-60. Of Kant's thing-in-itself he

Hegel and the Dialectic of the Infinite 73 begins by remarking that 'here "thing" embraces God, or the spirit, as well.' Hegel then states that it bespeaks 'what is completely abstract, or totally empty, and determined only as what is "beyond"; the negative of representation, of feeling, of determinate thinking, etc,' (§ 44). The abstract is identical with itself, sundered from that which is other, merely externally connected with something else. By contrast, in the dialectic, terms (for instance, finite and infinite) are internally connected; their dynamic interaction-and-unity constitutes the real infinite. Typical of abstract thinking is the external determinacy that juxtaposes qualities that are not intrinsically related to one another (§ 52). Such abstract thinking must be replaced by another kind of thinking, where 'one of the mediations has truth only through its mediation by the other' (§ 70), in other words, where determinations are confronted with one another in a mutually clarifying dialectic. In the analysis of the will that Hegel presents at the beginning of his Philosophy of Right, he considers the Kantian concept of will as typical of the first moment of the dialectic. Prior to any engagement with the concrete, there is 'the unrestricted infinity of absolute abstraction or universality, the pure thought of oneself.' This stage amounts to an 'unrestricted possibility of abstraction from every determinate state of mind,' or to 'my flight from every content as from a restriction.' Such a flight can also take shape 'in religion as the Hindu fanaticism of pure contemplation.' Hegel's rather unfavourable assessment seems to stem from the destructive consequence of such an attitude, whether religious or irreligious, as he finds it exemplified in the Terror which came after the French Revolution (§ 5; see § 7, § 10, §§ 13-14; see also Phenomenology, 'Absolute Freedom and Terror/ §§ 582-95). In Hegel's judgment, Kant's infinite is spurious. It is the idea of an unknowable 'beyond,' which stands apart from the finite and because this infinite does not include the finite, it is one-sided and not encompassing. 'If God has the finite only over against himself, then he himself is finite and limited.' As a valid moment in the development of the Spirit, this 'self-distinguishing' is necessary; without it, self-consciousness would remain undifferentiated and poor. But the intellectual hazard here consists in resting content with confronting finitude 'from the other side' or 'as something contradictory to God': 'then we take the finite as something fixed, independent - not as something transitional' (Philosophy of Religion, vol. 3, 263-4). Finite and infinite are mistakenly seen as cut off from each other: their interrelatedness has not yet been apprehended.

74 Part 2: Historic Contributions Two lectures on the Philosophy of Religion (vol. 1, 288-310, and vol. 2, 250-66) present the dialectic leading to the true infinite by sorting out three moments. In the first moment, on the level of perception, a negation is required for the representation of a finite being, which appears as singular, as this rather than that, hence as limited by its distinctiveness, as exclusive of an other, as not being the other. This negative is developed in part I (§§ 86-8) of the Encyclopaedia when Hegel treats of quality and more at length in Science of Logic (109-33, on determinate being). In the second moment, from the standpoint of reflection, another negation takes place by means of which the concept of infinite emerges: 'what gives rise to the infinite is not the being of the finite but the nonbeing of the finite; the nonbeing of the finite is the being of the infinite' (Philosophy of Religion, vol. 2, 264). 'The finite presupposes the infinite' (265), since the very concept of finite implies a non-finite that negates it. In this transition from finite to infinite, 'the infinite is the negation of the negative, negation that relates to itself, i.e., it is affirmation, absolute affirmation, and at the same time being - simple relation to self is what is meant by being' (258). This stage can take many forms. For example, the bounded stands in antithesis with the 'allness,' which may be apprehended as a completeness of information to be reached. Or, in matters of practical conduct, we may pursue an 'allness' of satisfaction, called 'blessedness.' 'The one totality is called universality of knowledge, the other is a totality of possession and satisfaction, of appetite and enjoyment' (vol. 1,291-2). Finally, in the third moment, the Spirit goes beyond this simple opposition in order to take up the two negations within itself: 'the genuinely infinite must be understood as the unity of both these negations' (vol. 2, 258). This stage is called 'the third standpoint or relationship - [the relationship] of the finite to the infinite in reason' (vol. 1,301). From the perspective of human subjectivity, particularity is sublated into universality: 'I am determined and maintained as universal' (302). The same happens to the finite: one cannot grasp its truth unless one locates it in God, who takes the initiative of positing all determinations within himself (307). The infinite inhabits the finite, while the finite dwells in the infinite. It is interesting to note Hegel's claim that this third moment offers more than what we find in Kant's philosophy. The latter is fixated at 'a lower level/ at the second moment, where the infinite is 'bad' or 'spurious' inasmuch as it remains abstract (since it is one-sided and does not concretely integrate the two negations). However, at the highest level

Hegel and the Dialectic of the Infinite 75 that the dialectic can reach, 'the infinite consists in inwardly determining itself, or validating the moment of finitude within itself.' The 'genuine' infinite surmounts abstractness by 'particularizing itself and positing within itself the moment of the finite' (vol. 2, 258). Another representation of the infinite that Hegel criticizes and yet appreciates has to do with the sublime. We may recall that Kant presents instances of the mathematically or the dynamically sublime in secular contexts. For his part, Hegel adopts an historical approach and thereby deals with the religious side of sublime art. In his lectures on Aesthetics he sorts out artistic styles according to the way they combine meaning and shape. He divides up the fine arts into three general categories: the symbolic, the classical, and the romantic. The symbolic includes two kinds: the pantheistic and the sublime. He sees the former as already displaying some features of the sublime. Let us focus first on the pantheistic and then on the sublime. In its attempts at conveying the pervasiveness of the divine, the early pantheism of the East has recourse to forms that are bizarre, grotesque, monstrous, sprawling, or colossal. 'For here above all there is the most extravagant exaggeration of size, alike in the spatial figure and in temporal immeasurability, as well as the multiplication of one and the same characteristic, the many heads, the mass of arms, etc., whereby attainment of the breadth and universality of meanings is pursued' (338). Conscious that such forms fall short of expressing the mystery, this art 'can call in aid nothing but the distortion of shapes to the point of the boundlessness of a purely quantitative sublimity' (319). Phenomenologically, this kind of experience seems to correspond with Kant's dynamically sublime. For Hegel, however, the pantheistic symbolism only foreshadows the strictly sublime. In a chapter entitled 'Symbolism of the Sublime' (36277), he takes his cue from Kant in order to introduce his own definition. He agrees with Kant when the latter writes, in the Critique of Judgment (§ 23), that the sublime cannot be contained in any sensuous form and does not admit adequate sensuous representation. Although he does not accept Kant's tenet that the sublime can be reduced to the pure subjectivity of the mind and its ideas of reason, Hegel retains from his predecessor the presence of a dissociation between the rational and the sensuous, in other words, the fact that the sublime points to an invisible meaning devoid of shape. Hence, in the sublime style of art, a sharp distinction and contrast has to be maintained between the godhead (in which the fulness of meaning is concentrated) and the human race.

76 Part 2: Historic Contributions Hegel describes the religion of the sublime as exemplified in Judaism. The relatively brief observations that we find in his Aesthetics on the first chapter of Genesis and on the Psalms must be complemented by his lectures on the Philosophy of Religion (vol. 2,122-41,152-60,387,42354,669-87). According to Hegel's historical reconstruction, Jewish faith comes after nature religion. In the latter, the whole universe - or a part of it (such as the stars, sacred places, and unusual phenomena) - is seen as divine: no differentiation has been made yet between God and a nondivine world. By contrast, the religion of the sublime is no longer concerned with the mere boundless. Instead, it centres on a God who is all-powerful, just and wise. God stands over against the world, which appears as nothing and worthless. Hegel is impressed by the biblical doctrine of creation out of nothing. He emphatically stresses the fact that in this representation of the infinite, God negates the universe. It is God, not the universe, that the creation narratives exalt when they highlight his exclusive might and treat 'the whole of phenomenal existence as having no reality or value without his sustenance.'3 In particular, man is viewed as mortal, unworthy, and sinful, trembling before the Lord (an anticipation of Otto's insistence on holy fear). Not only in religion, but also in philosophical thinking, the idea of God can negate the universe. In a reflection that is the same as the view put forward by Feuerbach, Hegel remarks that in the metaphysical proofs for the existence of God, 'that through which God could seem to be mediated, i.e., the world, is, on the contrary, shown up as what is null and void' (Encyclopaedia, part I, § 50). 'God [is] the absolutely positive; therefore what differs from him [is] the negative. This negative appears on the side of worldly essence, of human being.' Hegel goes as far as to submit that this nullity of the universe may be identified with evil: 'This negative of God is evil, or wickedness in general' (Philosophy of Religion, vol. 1,194). I take him to mean that at times people make this identification of the created with evil. All along, he has been underlining both the indispensability and the insufficiency of this second moment of the dialectic, wherein the infinite nullifies the finite: 'It is not because the finite exists that infinite being exists but because the finite does not exist; it is the negation [of it] that is absolute being' (Philosophy of Religion, vol. 2,103). A great many believers and mystics have had the stunning realization that the absoluteness of God reduces them to nothingness. This realization dovetails with Hegel's statement that 'the finite has no veritable being' (Science of Logic, 154). Yet the finite shares the Spirit's reality as a moment in it, and

Hegel and the Dialectic of the Infinite 77 the mystics also attest to this infinitization. The role of the finite is finally disclosed at the third stage of the dialectic, where it is granted its full significance as contributing to the Spirit's self-determination. Moreover, Hegel does not accept the contrary position (such as Feuerbach's) that one should opt for humanity - seen as a countless sum-total of human beings endowed with perfect attributes - and discard God once and for all. In this sense, he is neither a theist nor an atheist. Rather, he lifts both theism and atheism into a dialectic that successively abrogates and preserves God or the world, and that ends in a panentheism that views the world as taken up into God. This panentheism is not to be equated with pantheism, which abolishes the difference between the finite and the infinite. This he does not accept.4 Time and again, Hegel voices a twofold insistence: that philosophers must traverse the stage where finite and infinite are alternately cancelled in order to be redefined, and that these must be brought together into a higher synthesis wherein both are reaffirmed as interconnected. Hegel's panentheism overreaches into the all-encompassing Geist. This Spirit issues in a Begriff (Concept, Notion) according to which the infinite is intellectually apprehended - or better, apprehends itself - as explicating itself into the finite. Charles Taylor writes: This self-knowledge of God through man, Hegel calls absolute spirit. It is "absolute" because it is the final, highest realization of Spirit.'5 His vision is one of incarnation or embodiment of the universal in the concrete. Speaking of the universality of the will, he states that 'it has absorbed in itself the immediacy of instinctive desire and the particularity which is produced by reflection and with which such desire eo ipso becomes imbued.' His ideal is identity: 'this process of absorption in or elevation to universality is what is called the activity of thought' (Philosophy of Right, § 21). The identity is at once absorbing with respect to the object and reflexive with respect to the subject: 'in its object this will has simply turned backward into itself (§ 22). Noteworthy is the image of absorption, complemented with the image of penetration in the following rephrasing: 'This - the concept of the free will - is the universal which overlaps its object, penetrates its particular determination through and through and therein remains identical with itself (§ 24). Assessment of Hegel's Criticism of Kant Kant's approach to the infinite is not rejected by Hegel but simply pronounced insufficient: it is an instance of 'spurious' infinite which

78 Part 2: Historic Contributions does not really take us beyond human finitude. Hegel is not satisfied with a merely external juxtaposition of finite and infinite, in which they are extrinsically opposed. For him, reason must go further than the opposition that the Kantian reason sets up between them: it can yield a knowing (Wissen) by thinking through the relations of the finite to the infinite. On this very issue, however, I would advance the following hypothesis: perhaps Kant has stopped too short and Hegel has gone too far. Hegel has an edge over Kant when he points out that, far from standing alongside each other, the finite and the infinite are intrinsically related. We cannot stop with Kant at the stage where they are merely juxtaposed and opposed. The very dynamism of the human spirit requires an uninterrupted movement back and forth. Hegel sees reason as accomplishing much more than Kant did in limiting its function to producing regulative ideas. Yet there is an ambiguity in Hegel's assertion that when the finite and the infinite are placed side by side, the latter appears as limited by the independent existence of the former. Of course the infinite may appear bounded by the finite; but it does not have to appear so. In other words, could we not adopt a sharper distinction than the one Hegel would allow between the finite and the infinite, without falling into the mistake of envisioning the infinite as another finite? The incessant dialectical advance, accounted for in so many ways by Hegel, is a highly significant fact that ought not to be denied. Thus, from the angle of human experience, the infinite is an indefinite. We have noted that under his pen 'infinite' often means indefinite, or endlessly progressing. As he writes in the Phenomenology, infinity can be seen as 'this absolute unrest of pure self-movement' (§ 163). Concerning this intellectual movement, Hegel's works are replete with observations that are signposts on the road. He insists that the true infinite has not been apprehended until the final stage is reached. However, even at that final stage the succession of understandings is not brought to an end. Hegel asserts more than a simple human progression. Let us pay attention to the way he lessens the difference between divine and human knowledge, by demoting divine thinking and inflating human thinking. For him, the infinity of his all-encompassing Spirit continually needs an indefinite number of limited actualizations in order to comprehend itself. 'Without the moment of finitude there is no life, no subjectivity, no living God' {Philosophy of Religion, vol. 1,308). However,

Hegel and the Dialectic of the Infinite 79 isn't this a projection of our mind's restrictions onto the divine mind? Obviously if we humans are to speak of the infinite, we have to begin with how we know the finite. Yet shall we describe the godhead as shackled with the same limitation? Has Hegel adequately grasped the transcendent character of the infinite? It seems to me that by tying the divine mind to its unfolding in the world, Hegel abolishes the utter transcendence of God. The Hegelian scholar Peter Hodgson hits the bull's eye when he comes to the following conclusion: 'Hegel certainly does not forget the Absolute, but he tends to forget the transcendence of the Absolute, confident that the Absolute can be known absolutely.'6 It is difficult to avoid the impression that Hegel both downgrades the infinite and upgrades the finite. We have just examined his treatment of the former; let us now argue against his treatment of the latter. Pace Hegel, for us humans there is no thinking through of the infinite. Even though it is ever on the march, the human mind encounters an insurmountable barrier as it realizes that it cannot grasp the infinite. Hegel merely repeats a remark already made by Kant when he states that, every time reason posits a limit (Schranke), it also points beyond that limit. He does not take into consideration Kant's distinction (mentioned towards the end of our preceding chapter) between limits (continually gone beyond, as in mathematics and science) and the bounds (of all human knowledge). Arguing from the fact that we do transcend provisional limits, Hegel wrongly infers that we can trespass the bounds (what Kant calls Grenzen) of finite knowledge. The awareness of those bounds does not enable us to state more than the existence of an unknown infinite beyond them. Hegel knows that each individual intellect is finite: 'When the subject is considered by itself (the subjective individual as such) it is considered in its finite knowing, its knowledge of the finite' (Philosophy of Religion, vol. 1, 164). Yet, after acknowledging actual limitations at every step of the dialectic, Hegel finally suppresses them as he exaggerates the human mind's capacity to partake in the absolute Spirit. Tn thinking, I raise myself above all that is finite to the absolute and am infinite consciousness, while at the same time I am finite self-consciousness,

indeed to the full extent of my empirical condition. Both sides, as well as their relation, exist for me [in] the essential unity of my infinite knowing and my finitude' (212; see 170). Starting from a basic fact, the non-closure of the human mind, Hegel would be right in calling this fact my infinitude; but we must take

80 Part 2: Historic Contributions exception to his phrase, 'my infinite knowing/ for the simple reason that we have no experience whatsoever of an overarching, all-embracing, eternal thought. To the extent that it does not have this encompassing experience, the human mind remains one-sided: since it cannot see the whole from the vantage point of the infinite, it is bounded to its own perspective on the infinite. Yet at the same time it is, in a sense, unbounded! To clarify this paradox, let us use a distinction between infinitude and infinity. We use 'infinitude' in a restricted sense that Unendlichkeit, translated as 'infinity/ does not have in Hegel's works.7 On the one hand, as far as infinitude is concerned, the human intellectual experience implies a certain transcending of the finite, hence the assumed existence of the infinite: I concur with Hegel that it is unthinkable that the infinite should not be. Furthermore, our intellectual activity is not solely ours: as Hegel correctly maintains, it is, in the first place, the initiative of the absolute Spirit, which reveals itself in human thinking. On the other hand, as far as infinity is concerned, it eludes us because our intellectual limitations render the comprehension of the infinite unqualifiedly impossible. At this point, it must be evident to the perspicuous reader that objections such as those I am levelling at Hegel are perhaps based on the very assumptions against which he fought his whole life. Two of them are worth discussing. First, it would be unfair to him not to mention his metaphysical construal of concrete singulars (of which the human intellect is an instance). Finite particulars have no reality apart from the ideality of absolute Spirit because the absolute Spirit's act of relating things enters into the very constitution of their actuality. This is a profound insight, not unlike the position of several medieval thinkers for whom the foundations of truth lie beneath the finite. In this sense, a certain form of idealism is compatible with a non-naive realism. In the previous section, I quoted Hegel's assertion that 'the finite has no veritable being' (Science of Logic, 154). Unfortunately, the justification of his stand is tainted by an ambiguity: 'a veritable being' is seen 'as something ultimate and absolute, as something underived, uncreated, eternal' (155). In contradistinction, for me any finite particular possesses 'a veritable being' that is nevertheless relative and derived. Yet its share in being is continually given by the creative God. Similarly our acts of understanding are always limited, even though we catch glimpses of an unlimited horizon. Thanks to this open-ended

Hegel and the Dialectic of the Infinite 81 horizon, our intellect is always on the move. Yet it reaches a stage which Hegel's dialectic does not acknowledge - where its basic assertions regarding the relations between the finite and the infinite, if they are true, cannot be significantly modified. Therefore, we must bring the dialectic back to realistic proportions and repudiate the infinitization of the human mind. The ontological difference between finite intellects and the divine intellect is dialectically unsurpassable. We can maintain the two sides of this fascinating human predicament by speaking of the infinitude of a human intellect endowed with an unlimited horizon, rather than of the infinity of the human intellect. Second, we need to recall Hegel's denunciation of a transcendence that appears one-sided in its separateness from the world. As set in a simple antithesis to the finite, such an infinite would be bounded by its counterpart, and hence not truly infinite. Furthermore, since it is imagined as simply negating all finite determinations, this separate transcendence is indeterminate in its abstract universality. Therefore, far from abolishing concrete determinations, Hegel wants to take them up into the godhead. Likewise, at the summit of his dialectic, he does not want to cancel the distinction God/world; instead, he places it in a selfcontained godhead (not coexisting with anything outside of it), thus making the world internal to God. In this respect, he is not far from Thomas Aquinas. Nonetheless, the latter would reply that there is no real relation of God to the world and that the divine intellect does not need the world in order to understand the finite determinations (as actual or possible, depending on whether God has willed them into existence or not). In other words, Hegel's point that the infinite must include the finite is not valid absolutely but only conditionally, that is, once the finite has been created. For Hegel, however, the world has not been created; instead it is the necessary selfexpression of the infinite. Finally, is Kant's or Hegel's metaphysics entirely compatible with transcendent experience as it has been characterized in the present book? It does not seem so. For Rudolf Otto, as we saw when we discussed typologies, there are two basic forms of mysticism: the extrovertive and the introvertive. In point of fact both Kant and Hegel envision reality in an extrovertive manner. Now it is inevitable that not only imaginative progression but also intellectual process involve spatial representations. Still the mind can employ those representations skilfully enough so as to go beyond their limitations. Unfortunately, both authors remain prisoners to certain metaphors.

82 Part 2: Historic Contributions Kant situates the divine in an inaccessible territory, beyond the bounds of our knowledge. His basic metaphor here is geographical. Hegel, for his part, attempts to achieve the synthesis of the finite and the infinite within a self-confined whole. His abolition of the distinctive existence of the finite depends on his rejection of any juxtaposition of what he calls 'two worlds/ wherein 'each is assigned a distinct place' (Science of Logic, 139-40). But juxtaposition, whether assumed by Kant or repudiated by Hegel, is an instance of spatialization. For all their efforts at overcoming the traps of the spatializing imagination, Kant and Hegel fail to develop a metaphysics that can account for non-spatial alterity (which would allow a representation of the infinite not as a whole but as unqualified existing). Probably because of this inadequacy in their metaphysics, these two thinkers have no room for the second kind of mysticism, the introvertive one, as indicated by their disparaging comments on Eastern mysticism. In contrast to Schleiermacher, they do not see the significance of prereflective consciousness for a human wisdom that could be more than a transcendental self-appropriation (Kant) or a headtrip culminating in reasoning out everything (Hegel). In addition to this oversight, they ignore the apophatic stream, which makes abundant use of negative language and which has been influential not only in the East but also in the three Western monotheisms. The Rejection of Schleiermacher's Absolute Dependence Without mentioning Schleiermacher's name, Hegel repeatedly refutes what he deems are his views, in either scattered allusions or longer passages, wherein he sets his own convictions in opposition to the philosophy of Kant, Jacobi, and other post-Kantians or romantics. The coherence with which Hegel rejects Schleiermacher's basic concepts will become clear if we pay attention not only to his passing remarks on the latter, but also especially to his critique of Kant and Jacobi. In other words, the grounds of the disagreement between Hegel and Schleiermacher will be uncovered by examining some of the ideas (which Hegel pronounces inadequate) that Schleiermacher shares with Kant or Jacobi. We discard Fichte's position here because both Hegel and Schleiermacher happen to counter it. With respect to his friend Schelling's 'monochromatic formalism/ Hegel's departure is signalled in his Preface to the Phenomenology, where he mounts a defence of articulated cognition and denounces a philosophy evolving from an undifferenti-

Hegel and the Dialectic of the Infinite 83 ated sense of 'abstract universality': To pit this single insight, that in the Absolute everything is the same, against the full body of articulated cognition, which at least seeks and demands such fulfilment, to palm off its Absolute as the night in which, as the saying goes, all cows are black - this is cognition naively reduced to vacuity' (§ 16; see § 15). This criticism is also relevant to the early Schleiermacher, whose thought stands close to Schelling's philosophy of identity. However, from 1811 onward, Schleiermacher distances himself from that position and differentiates God and world more clearly.8 Hegel's criticism of Schelling need not be addressed further here since what he sets out to disprove in Schleiermacher is not so much its similarities with Schelling as its similarities with Kant and Jacobi. Although it is unnecessary to revisit Hegel's critique of Kant, which is presented in previous sections of this chapter, it is noteworthy that Hegel places Schleiermacher, along with Jacobi, among the romantics who try to revise and prolong the thought of Kant.9 In doing so, not only do these post-Kantians suffer from the general limitations of transcendental philosophy, but, in the eyes of Hegel, they compound their plight by adding further blunders. For instance, having accepted Kant's restriction of ordinary knowledge to the finite and the empirical, Jacobi thinks he can find a way out through recourse to faith construed as a feeling of immediate certainty of God's existence. Hegel writes: The eternal remained in a realm beyond, a beyond too vacuous for cognition so that this infinite void of knowledge could only be filled with the subjectivity of longing and divining' (Faith and Knowledge, 56). Such longing, Hegel claims, is as fixed in finitude as Kant's standpoint (Philosophy of Religion, vol. 1, 284).

The best succinct account of the reasons why Hegel objects to this subjectivity of longing and divining - typical of romantics such as Jacobi and Schleiermacher - can be found in Reason and History. The author first situates feeling on the scale of mental activity: 'Feeling is the lowest form in which any mental content can exist.' Then he proceeds to acknowledge its role: Tt is true that everything spiritual, every content of consciousness, anything that is product and subject of thought - in particular religion and morality - must also, and originally does, exist in the mode of feeling.' Against Jacobi and Schleiermacher, however, he adds: 'But feeling is not the fount from which this content flows to man, but only a primal mode in which it exists in him. It is indeed the worst mode, a mode which he has in common with the animal' (17). This is the anthropological framework in which we must interpret

84 Part 2: Historic Contributions his oft-quoted, disparaging witticism: If feeling constitutes the basic determination of the essence of man, then man is established as the equivalent of the beast, for it is characteristic of the beast to have its determination or vocation in feeling, and to live according to feeling. If religion in man is based only on a feeling, then such a feeling rightly has no further determination than to be the feeling of his dependence, and the dog would then be the best Christian, for the dog feels this most strongly in himself and lives mainly within this feeling. (Foreword to Hinrichs, § 26, 260)

Elsewhere, the feeling of dependence is said to be accompanied by animal fear (Philosophy of Religion, vol. 1, 279 & 282) and to consist in servitude (vol. 2,158). Furthermore, as part and parcel of a religion of unfreedom (508-9), it is contrasted with other forms of religion, in which people are free (209). A few paragraphs before, Hegel shows that he sets little store by feeling: he associates 'the region of feeling' with 'the muffled way of sensation' (§ 22, 257). In his attacks against Jacobi and Schleiermacher, he collapses feeling (Gefuhl) into sensibility (Empfindung), which then both amount to sensation, despite the fact that elsewhere (in Encyclopaedia, part III, §§ 402-3), he carefully distinguishes them.10 It is no wonder, therefore, that feeling should play a very modest role in human life. Moreover, feeling has the disadvantages of being intellectually indefinite and subjective. 'In feeling, the mental content is the smallest possible; it is present in its lowest possible form. As long as it is still in feeling it is veiled and entirely indefinite. It is still entirely subjective, present exclusively in the subjective form' (Reason and History, 17). The author goes on to assert that objectivity is jeopardized in a religion based on feeling: 'If in this manner the divine content - the revelation of God, the relationship of man to God, the being of God for man - is reduced to pure feeling, then it is reduced to pure subjectivity, to the arbitrary, to whim. In this way one actually gets rid of truth as it is in and for itself (18). In Philosophy of Religion, he declares: 'feeling [is] the form that locks particular subjectivity, the natural human being and natural will, within itself (vol. 3, 150). He explains: 'What is rooted only in my feeling is only for me.' And he protests: 'God is not simply rooted in feeling, is not merely my God' (vol. 1, 137). 'Hence, the exaltation of feeling precludes any dialogue: Since the man of common sense makes his appeal to feeling, to an oracle within his breast, he is

Hegel and the Dialectic of the Infinite 85 finished and done with anyone who does not agree; he only has to explain that he has nothing more to say to anyone who does not find and feel the same in himself (Phenomenology, § 69). This set of convictions, on the part of Hegel, helps us size up his attack, at the beginning of the Preface to his Phenomenology, against a certain religious experience. There he repudiates 'intuition,' 'immediate knowledge of the Absolute' (§ 6), 'ecstasy, 'enthusiasm' (§ 7), 'an other-worldly presence, 'the bare feeling of the divine in general' (§ 8). All such romantic talk, of which we find more than echoes in Schleiermacher's Speeches, Hegel sees as 'empty breadth,' 'empty depth,' 'an intensity without content' (§10). In every discussion of feeling, Hegel is concerned to bring in what is for him the paramount requirement for the integrity of human experience: a knowing that cannot afford bypassing a long series of mediations. He fears that the extolment of feeling rules out the seriousness of the intellectual life. Accordingly, while he avers that, together with sensation, feeling constitutes the starting point of knowing, he stresses that it belongs to the lowest stage, and he presses on to accentuate the demanding mediations that lead to truth (see Encyclopaedia, 'Introduction/ § 12, and part I, 'Immediate Knowing.' §§ 61-78). Far from taking any lasting interest in feeling, he points to the struggle involved in the process of mediating. Therein lies the substance of human living for Hegel. A remarkable passage of the Phenomenology, entitled 'The law of the heart and the frenzy of self-conceit' (§§ 367-80), which describes the arduous engagement of the individual into the tensions of social existence, provides just one example of what Hegel admires: not a facile, unproblematic immediacy but a courageous and prolonged working out of tangled issues. Given the supreme importance of mediations that are at once intellectual and moral, and thus a requirement for maturity, it comes as no surprise that Hegel laments not only 'the conviction of the age that God is revealed immediately in the consciousness of human beings' (Philosophy of Religion, vol. 1, 159) but also its disastrous consequence: 'the naive knowledge proceeds polemically against cognition and is especially directed against the cognition or conceptual comprehension of God' (161). In reply, Hegel distinguishes between immediate knowing, a consciousness that is 'the very poorest in thoughts' (266), and cognizing (Erkennen), which he presents as 'a richer mode of knowing' (262; see 262-6). The reasons for this stance have been given in the first section of this chapter.

86 Part 2: Historic Contributions

Assessment of Hegel's Criticism of Schleiermacher The differences between Hegel and Schleiermacher run very deep. Moreover, as sometimes happens among great minds belonging to the same epoch, Hegel and Schleiermacher disliked each other. Neither correctly interpreted the thought of his rival in Berlin. Hegel merely alluded to his opponent in short, disparaging remarks or in longer passages wherein he repudiates both Schleiermacher and Jacobi, albeit without ever mentioning the former. Having heard of Hegel's reprimands, Schleiermacher decided that they were without foundation and simply ignored him, at least publicly.11 It is difficult not to concur with the following comment on their mutual aloofness: 'these two great figures are like ships passing at night, never really establishing contact.'12 One of the reasons why Hegel downplayed the significance of Schleiermacher's thought is that he came to know it through the Speeches, whose conceptual imprecision could not but put him off. Hegel's Phenomenology appeared in 1807, whereas Schleiermacher's first major work, Der christliche Glaube, was published in 1821-2. According to several commentators, this first edition of the Glaubenslehre falls short of perfectly conveying Schleiermacher's distinctive views on feeling and absolute dependence. As we saw in the chapter on his thought, one must peruse the second edition (1830-1) in order to come to the realization that his concept of feeling (Gefiihl) has little to do with ordinary emotions. Far from counting as one of the emotions that make up our affective life, Gefiihl underlies all our thoughts and emotions. Perhaps one text from the second edition of Der christliche Glaube can be taken as a reply to Hegel (whose name is not mentioned). Talking of 'the God-consciousness,' the author asserts: 'we should be no more able to think of it as actual than in the case of the beasts, because the confused state of man's consciousness would not exhibit the conditions under which alone that feeling could emerge.' And what are these conditions? Three kinds of activities - sensible, cognitive, and outward acts - with which the God-consciousness is tied up: 'The Godconsciousness, moreover, combines not only with those sensible excitations of self-consciousness which express life-enhancements or life-hindrances immediately arising out of the impression of the world, but also with those which accompany the cognitive activities, and finally with those which are connected with every kind of outwardly directed action' (§ 60.1). A couple of assertions in these excerpts decisively shut out Hegel's

Hegel and the Dialectic of the Infinite 87 interpretation of Schleiermacher. First, the God-consciousness is present not principally at the animal level but in what the author calls our 'spiritual functions/ that is, operations of knowing and willing. Second, God-consciousness must not be identified even with our spiritual functions, since it consists in something more basic, the consciousness that accompanies all cognitive and volitive acts. There is no indication that Hegel read the second edition of Glaubenslehre, from which we get an understanding of the feeling of absolute dependence - or God-consciousness - that differs completely from Hegel's reading. For example, his remark on doglike devotion dates from 1822 and may have been prompted by some unguarded phrases that appeared in Schleiermacher's first edition. The reviewer of the critical edition writes: 'Schleiermacher did speak in the first edition of "absolute dependence" as if it were in the same (logical) series as all instances of finite dependence (cf. 1/7,1, p. 32) - a logical and theological clanger which he quietly retrieved in the second edition' (cf. § 4.2).13 Evidently Hegel did not see, in the first edition, a distinction between absolute and relative dependence, as witnessed by his quip on the dependence of the dog. Consequently, he did not appreciate the metaphysical solidity of the deduction of absolute dependence, which was shown, in chapter 4, to be very different from relative dependence. Summary From the viewpoint of our phenomenology of transcendent experience, Kant's analysis of both the mathematically and the dynamically sublime casts light on the human openness to the infinite. The distinctive roles of the imagination and reason are clearly underscored: the former gives us a sense of endless progression, while the latter offers an idea of totality. For his part, Hegel claims that the human mind can go further in its comprehension of the infinite. In his dissatisfaction with Kant's philosophy, he wants to pass beyond the stage of mere antithesis. We have seen that at stake here is the identity between limited and absolute thinking, or between human and divine spirit. After discussing the four antinomies of pure reason, Kant states that we cannot know whether the world is finite or infinite. Hegel would have none of this agnosticism, which he exaggerates. He disregards the Kantian distinction and complementarity between the progressive (mathematical) and the intuitive (aesthetic) apprehension of the whole that we have highlighted. He does not allow that, for Kant, what we cannot

88 Part 2: Historic Contributions cognize but do nevertheless think is far from being epistemologically void. Despite Hegel's invaluable contribution to the phenomenology of reason being opened up to the infinite, his criticisms of Kant leave intact a number of important insights made by his predecessor, which I explore in part 3 of this book. I argue for both human finitude and infinitude alike. Continuous though it is with infinite spirit (Hegel's valid point: the human infinitude), the individual mind remains finite in its indefinite progression (Kant's point: the human finitude). Through this indefinite process, we are at the same time aware of the unknown infinite. Kant portrays human reason as acutely conscious of its bounds as well as of infinity. Further justification of those related terms will be given in chapter 9. Hegel's disdain for the feeling of absolute dependence stems from his misrepresenting Schleiermacher's Gefiihl. He does not realize that the feeling in question, also called immediate self-consciousness, grounds both the unity of the self and its openness to the mystery. Indeed Hegel does not make much of the mystical, perhaps because his philosophy, which extols the articulated, underrates the non-reflective religious experiences that, in my estimation, are no less important than the articulated. When he mentions those religious experiences, he locates them among the instances of prereflective feeling that belong not to the highest but to the lowest rank of consciousness. Obviously he has no esteem for the ineffable. However, Hegel's parti pris in favour of reflective thinking should not be brushed aside entirely. He reminds us of a significant fact of intellectual life when he affirms: 'man reaches that standpoint of immediate knowing only as the result of philosophical knowledge, so that the philosophical knowing that it seems to despise is at least recognised by it as a condition' (Encyclopaedia, 'Preface to the first edition/ 3). I understand him to be saying that there can be no awareness of immediate knowing without some philosophical knowledge spelled out in concepts and words. This is the very point that I tried to introduce in the latter part of chapter 4 on Schleiermacher. In this respect Hegel is right in rejecting the sharp separation between thinking and religious feeling that is made in the Speeches to the 'cultured despisers' of religion and that is still to be found even in the second edition of the Glaubenslehre (see Encyclopaedia, 'Introduction,' §§ 2-3). We may want to keep this point in mind as we move on to scrutinize the relation of feeling to thought as William James envisions it.

Chapter 6

William James and Religious Experience

William James (1842-1910) delivered the prestigious Gifford lectures at the University of Edinburgh in 1901-2. Published under the title The Varieties of Religious Experience, they were received with enthusiasm and have remained classics ever since.1 Like his brother Henry, William James was an excellent writer, attentive to the details of experience and the nuances of feeling. He took religious issues very seriously: 'however particular questions connected with our individual destinies may be answered, it is only by acknowledging them as genuine questions, and living in the sphere of thought which they open up, that we become profound. But to live thus is to be religious' (500, W394). In addition, he displayed a fascination for all sorts of facts and thereby proved empirically minded in his attitude to both science and religion.2 Thus we must credit James with a decisive contribution to the phenomenology of religion. As one commentator says: 'Historical research can now document the profound influence of James on Husserl's phenomenology and through Husserl on the entire European tradition of phenomenological and existential philosophy. James believed phenomenological description was the first, although not the only, step to take for any adequate analysis of human phenomena.'3 Using the Starbuck collection and other sources of narratives, James illustrated and described striking phenomena, whereas Kant and Schleiermacher only pointed to them without paying much attention to their concrete features. Some of the case materials introduced by James convey the sense of the infinite that we find in transcendent experiences (as they have been defined in chapter 1). In the first section of this chapter, I focus on these and leave aside the ones having to do with conversion or with other

90 Part 2: Historic Contributions aspects of religious experience, as he broadly construes it. The second section enquires into his view of the relation between feeling and thought. The third discusses his pragmatic understanding of truth and the fourth examines his representation of the divine as an undubitable object. The final section considers his famous thesis concerning 'the will to believe' and 'the strenuous life/ which are the best fruits of religious experience. The Four Marks of Mysticism In this section I suggest, first, that James's enormously diversified repertoire of religious episodes includes some transcendent experiences, and second, that his four marks of mysticism apply to them. As indicated in the last section of chapter 1, R.C. Zaehner distinguishes three types of mystical phenomena: nature mysticism, soul mysticism and theistic mysticism. He remarks that, in The Varieties, lectures XVI and XVII (entitled 'Mysticism') deal with the first type, nature mysticism - 'seeing all things in one's soul and one's soul in all things.'4 The cases of such extrovertive mysticism reported by James in those lectures (394-9, W313-17), to which we may add one narrative presented earlier in the book (66-7, W61-2), correspond, in my opinion, to experiences of transcendence. In Lecture XVI, James inserts a footnote which throws light on my chapter devoted to Hegel. I concur with James when he asks: 'What reader of Hegel can doubt that that sense of a perfected Being with all its otherness soaked up into itself, which dominates his whole philosophy, must have come from the prominence in his consciousness of mystical moods like this, in most persons kept subliminal?' (389). Behind Hegel's philosophic monism lurks a transcendent experience belonging to Zaehner's first type. James suggests more or less the same in his notes concerning Ralph Waldo Emerson, whose worldview, based on his 'intimacy with Nature' or 'the universal mother,' he characterizes as a 'Monism.' a 'pantheistic religion,' allowing for no 'real partition between our Soul and the great Cosmic soul.' However, James discerns 'two tendencies in Emerson, one towards absolute Monism, the other towards radical individualism.'5 As he expresses his approval of Emerson's balancing of mysticism and individual responsibility, James makes an interesting statement regarding the fruits of religious experience, to which I shall return at the end of this chapter.

William James and Religious Experience 91 In a lecture entitled 'On a Certain Blindness in Human Beings.'6 James provides several examples of outward mysticism, which is the self-transcending movement to enter into communion with the universe. We find there a wealth of texts, taken from such authors as Robert Louis Stevenson, Josiah Royce, De Senancour, Wordsworth, Richard Jefferies, Walt Whitman, Tolstoi, and W.H. Hudson. All these narratives amount to transcendent experiences, since they involve a sense of the infinite found in very simple things, often in one single detail of nature. In The Varieties, James attempts to give a more complete account of such phenomena by spelling out his much discussed four marks of mystical experiences (380-2, W302-3). Let us review each of those marks. The first is ineffability. Because James states that a mystical state of mind 'defies expression,' he is sometimes misinterpreted as saying that we cannot talk about them.7 However, what James means is explained in the same paragraph: 'no adequate report of its contents can be given in words' (italics added). Thus James insists that personal experience is a prerequisite: 'No one can make clear to another who has never had a certain feeling, in what the quality or worth of it consists' (380, W302). However, if transcendent experience is lacking in a person's life, a sympathetic openness to it can make up for this deficiency, as is the case for James: 'I have no living sense of commerce with a God ... yet there is something in me which makes response when I hear utterances from that quarter made by others. I recognize the deeper voice ... Call this, if you like, my mystical germ.'8 The second mark is noetic quality. This is not to say that from mystical states one could deduce particular propositions. Rather, the experiencers are convinced that they have learned something precious, which cannot be translated into pieces of spiritual information. According to James: 'They are states of insight into depths of truth unplumbed by the discursive intellect. They are illuminations, revelations, full of significance and importance, all inarticulate though they remain' (380-1, W302). This awareness amounts to what, in an earlier work, The Principles of Psychology, James calls 'knowledge of acquaintance,' which is distinct from 'knowledge-about.'9 As James notes, French speakers distinguish between connaitre and savoir. Richard Stevens explains: 'To meet someone is to be presented to him for the first time, to strike up a preliminary acquaintance. To know someone is to be aware of his background, his character, of what he does in life, in short, to be able to situate him in a context.'10

92 Part 2: Historic Contributions Because of its immediateness, mystical knowledge approximates knowledge by acquaintance, where one is directly introduced to somebody. For James, mysticism has nothing to do with conception (knowledge about), and everything to do with perception (knowledge by acquaintance). What suggests itself here is a pronounced preference for perception, a preference fraught with grave difficulties and one that I criticize later in this chapter. The third mark is called transiency. James thinks that mystical states cannot be sustained for long: 'half an hour, or at most an hour or two' (381, W302). We saw that Koestler's hour by the window may have been restricted to only a few minutes. Data suggest a duration of less than ten minutes, while memoirs by some authors speculate that their mystical state may have lasted somewhat longer.11 Describing a 'supernatural rapture' that he experienced, Suso records: 'This overpowering transport lasted perhaps an hour, perhaps only a half hour.'12 In a lecture discussing saintliness, James implies that 'the sense of Presence of a higher and friendly Power' is enduring (274, W221), whereas transcendent experiences are transient. On the latter, Suso comments: 'This heavenly fragrance stayed with him long afterward and gave him a heavenly longing for God.'13 Such a pervasive awareness of divine presence is indicative of mystical maturity. The fourth mark is passivity. As James observes, 'the mystic feels as if his own will were in abeyance, and indeed sometimes as if he were grasped and held by a superior power.' However, such a passivity does not exclude activity, since 'the oncoming of mystical states may be facilitated by preliminary voluntary operations, as by fixing the attention, or going through certain bodily performances, or in other ways which manuals of mysticism prescribe' (381, W303). These four marks of a mystical experience apply to transcendent experience. Countless narratives mention the fact that in contact with the infinite, (1) language employed to describe the event is inadequate; (2) a unique kind of knowledge (amounting to a conviction or wisdom) has been acquired; (3) ecstasies usually do not last more than half an hour; and (4) one enters into a state of receptivity. Feeling and Thought We must now examine the way James situates feeling and thought with respect to each other. He asserts that reflection invariably comes after religious experience:

William James and Religious Experience 93 I do believe that feeling is the deeper source of religion, and that philosophical and theological formulas are secondary products, like translations into another tongue ... But all these intellectual operations, whether they be constructive or comparative or critical, presuppose immediate experience as their subject-matter. They are interpretative and inductive operations, operations after the fact, consequent upon religious feeling, not coordinate with it, not independent of what it ascertains. (431 and 433; W341-2)14 Wayne Proudfoot, who quotes this text, aptly sums up James's position: The substantive assumption is that feeling or sense is independent of, and prior to, thought.'15 We recall that this is a dubious tenet held by Schleiermacher, which I queried in chapter 4. Among the features of 'universal saintliness, the same in all religions' (271, W219), which James lists, I would point out that the first two require some cognitive acts. The first is 'a conviction, not merely intellectual, but as it were sensible, of the existence of an Ideal Power' (272, W219-20). The second he formulates as follows: 'A sense of the friendly continuity of the ideal power with our own life, and a willing selfsurrender to its control' (273, W220). James's 'faith-state' or 'state of assurance,' paraphrased as 'the assurance that all is well with one' (247, W200-1), obviously consists of feeling plus some conceptual content. Nonetheless, to be fair to James, we must heed his intention. His pragmatism wants to debunk the supremacy of speculative thought proclaimed by Hegelian and British idealism. Surely he is right in asserting that religious experience is by no means the outcome of discursive thinking. In The Principles of Psychology, he admirably shows how feelings and thoughts are intermingled in consciousness.16 Unfortunately, in The Varieties he fails to indicate that all manners of thinking (intuitive, symbolic, and even discursive, as the narratives of our chapter 2 have proved to be) precede, permeate, and mould the most individual and solitary religiousness. The closest he comes to this insight are incidental remarks such as: 'Even in soliloquizing with ourselves, we construe our feelings intellectually' (432; W342), or 'our intellectual stock in trade plays a suggestive part in our mystical life.'17 Such remarks of his should have become a caveat against his own excessive praise of feeling. On the surface, James's view of religion may seem akin to Schleiermacher's, in that he places feeling at the centre of religious experience. But the differences between the two authors become more and more

94 Part 2: Historic Contributions obvious as James repeatedly exalts emotional religiousness. He even considers the extreme forms of emotionality as the most revelatory of the true nature of religion (39, W40). In fact, this emotivistic emphasis has little to do with Schleiermacher's Gefiihl, especially as the more mature Schleiermacher identifies it with objectless self-consciousness. As our probing of Schleiermacher's texts showed, the consciousness of absolute dependence lies beyond our emotions or sentiments, while being associated with them. In this respect, when James correctly claims that religion is associated with any human emotion (e.g., love, awe, joy), he mistakenly reproves Schleiermacher for having said that the feeling of dependence is one specific religious sentiment (27, W31). Nicholas Lash helpfully calls attention to the fact that James belongs to 'a later generation - when the language of "feeling" and "experience" had contracted into empirical description of individual psychological states.'18 In going so far as to say that the differentia of religion is emotional intensity (41-8, W41-7), James departs from Schleiermacher's conception, and to a certain extent from Otto's, as will become evident when we deal with the latter in chapter 7. Moreover, for James and Otto, the role of ideas and institutions is secondary. James's definition of religion incorporates neither thinking nor community, since it encompasses only 'the feelings, acts, and experiences of individual men in their solitude, so far as they apprehend themselves to stand in relation to whatever they may consider the divine' (31, W34). To guard against criticisms of his definition, he modestly reduces its status to the level of an arbitrary one, for the purpose of the lectures he delivers (26-8, W30-2). But his preferences often sound quite normative. For example, he writes that 'the whole development of Christianity in inwardness has consisted in little more than the greater and greater emphasis attached to this crisis of self-surrender' and talks of the 'progress towards the idea of an immediate spiritual help, experienced by the individual in his forlornness and standing in no essential need of doctrinal apparatus or propitiatory machinery' (210-11, W173). Consider also the following statement: When we survey the whole field of religion, we find a great variety in the thoughts that have prevailed there; but the feelings on the one hand and the conduct on the other are almost always the same, for Stoic, Christian, and Buddhist saints are practically indistinguishable in their lives. The theories which Religion generates, being thus variable, are secondary; and if you wish to grasp her essence, you must look to the feelings and the conduct as being the more constant elements.(504,W397)

William James and Religious Experience 95 What James writes here about the feelings and the conduct of saints is untenable in the light of massive documentation coming from the field of comparative studies of religion. There is as much diversity in feeling and in conduct as in thought because, as Hegel has amply demonstrated, thought is the key factor in the differentiation of feeling and conduct. As is the case for several aspects of his philosophy, James's position concerning feeling is ambiguous. Most of the time, for him 'feeling' means 'emotion'; at times, however, it acquires a broader sense and thus designates 'any conceivable psychological event.'19 On the one hand, using his distinction between knowledge of acquaintance and knowledge-about, he asserts that feelings (in the narrow sense) come before thoughts: 'Through feelings we become acquainted with things, but only by our thoughts do we know about them. Feelings are the germ and starting point of cognition, thoughts the developed tree ... The mental states usually distinguished as feelings are the emotions, and the sensations we get from skin, muscle, viscus, eye, ear, nose, and palate. The "thoughts," as recognized in popular parlance, are the conceptions and judgments.'20

On the other hand, feeling amounts to '"idea," taken in the old broad Lockian sense,' or to 'state of consciousness,' or to 'thought.'21 Then he tackles the question, 'can the feeling ... be said to have any sort of a cognitive function?' And he introduces the distinction between 'the feeling's quality' and 'a reality outside of it.'22 Since this suggestion of James's raises a standard and yet difficult epistemological issue, we need to step back, at this stage, and envision his overall philosophy. Let us move cautiously in such uneven terrain as we examine James's pragmatic approach, before concentrating on his conception of God and on his will to believe. The Pragmatic Method

As virtually all commentators point out, on many topics James never manages to propound a coherent viewpoint. His philosophy is less a system than an honest, indefinite quest. On every issue, he wishes to take all facts into consideration - an attitude that makes for fresh and yet tentative treatments. He himself states: 'Philosophers are after all like poets. They are pathfinders.' And he adds: 'Of such postponed achievements do the lives of all philosophers consist. Truth's fulness is elusive; ever not quite, not quite!... Inconclusive I must be, and merely suggestive.'23

96 Part 2: Historic Contributions According to him, far from being frivolous, such tentativeness reflects a serious, open-ended pursuit of truth. 'The most useful investigator, because the most sensitive observer, is always he whose eager interest in one side of the question is balanced by an equally keen nervousness lest he become deceived.'24 James highlights the would-be comprehensiveness of this ever unfinished enquiry as he writes that the 'only test of probable truth is what works best in the way of leading us, what fits every part of life best and combines with the collectivity of experience's demands, nothing being omitted.'25 The article 'Pragmatism,' which he wrote for Baldwin's Dictionary, defines the concept as follows: 'The doctrine that the whole "meaning" of a conception expresses itself in practical consequences, consequences either in the shape of conduct to be recommended, or in that of experiences to be expected, if the conception be true; which consequences would be different if it were untrue, and must be different from the consequences by which the meaning of other conceptions is in turn expressed.'26 Having distinctive practical outcomes, doctrines make differences in the world. Although he sees himself as a pragmatist, James repudiates the caricature according to which 'whatever proves subjectively expedient in the way of our thinking is "true" in the absolute and unrestricted sense of the word, whether it corresponds to any objective state of things outside of our thought or not.'27 Far from being a matter of expediency or wishful thinking, his pragmatic approach consists in a relentless effort to experiment with human thoughts in action. 'The ultimate test for us of what a truth means is indeed the conduct it dictates or inspires. But it inspires that conduct because it first foretells some particular turn to our experience which shall call for just that conduct from us.'28 In James's construal, 'conduct' extends to much more than external behaviour. I shall return to this crucial point. What has baffled many readers is the fact that his pragmatist understanding of truth comprehends a great many elements found in traditional accounts. At times he speaks like someone who accepts a 'correspondence theory of truth.' Some of his epistemological descriptions bear the hallmarks of naive realism. He highlights the centrality of sensations and percepts in which he assumes that things are known. He distinguishes, on the one hand, direct intuition, experience, and presentations, and, on the other hand, duplication, resemblance, and representations. Reality is attained through perception, which sometimes is pure and sometimes is permeated with conception. The abstraction

William James and Religious Experience 97 characteristic of conception is impoverishing, albeit inevitable, in contrast to the concreteness of perception. During the last year of his life, James wrote: 'Concepts and percepts are consubstantial. I mean by this that they are made of the same kind of stuff, and melt into each other when we handle them together.'29 He fails to see that insight constitutes a distinctive event that makes of concepts much more than means giving us access to generalities. In addition to ignoring the significance of our acts of understanding, James underestimates the decisive role of intellectual judgments. Of course he occasionally mentions 'assent'30 and repeats that there is a reality independent of our thoughts and wishes. Unfortunately, most of the time his realism is sensory. Although he acknowledges other dimensions of truth, he frequently returns to his paradigm of truth as the relation of the mind to physical things. By contrast, in chapter 8, the reader will discover in Lonergan a realism which is not naive but critical (after the Greek crisis, judgment) and which is based on our insights and judgments belonging to a level of operation that is radically different from the perceptual and the conceptual (as construed by James). Having borrowed some features of the 'correspondence theory of truth,' James seems equally comfortable with the 'coherence theory of truth' as he lays a heavy stress on consistency. For him there must be a consistency between our perceptual and our conceptual experiences, between our stock of ideas and our novel discoveries. This need for congruence explains why we do not readily accept and integrate every new observation.31 Now the several elements stemming from differing accounts of truth would stand in contradiction to each other only if James had not modified them according to his pragmatist understanding. But what is most interesting - and I submit, valuable, although incomplete - is the manner in which he reinterprets the requirements for correspondence and consistency by placing them within the broader scope of pragmatism. His concern centres not so much on what truth in principle is as on how truth is discovered. With this preoccupation in mind he pays attention to correspondence in its concrete forms by asking 'what such "agreement" may mean in detail.'32 He insists that we must weigh the consequences of ideas.33 They are said to be 'practical,' although not opposed to the 'theoretical.' 'But particular consequences can perfectly well be of a theoretic nature. Every remote fact which we infer is a particular theoretic consequence

98 Part 2: Historic Contributions which our mind practically works towards.'34 For instance, discarding an old opinion amounts to a decision that is both practical and theoretical. In James's pragmatic method, it is important not to construe the 'practical' (or 'conduct') in a narrow sense. Ideas 'work' not only in the physical environment but 'inside of the mental world also.'35 Inside this mental world of ours, the legitimate preoccupations of correspondence and consistency are brought together. We are engaged in an experiential continuum which connects its operations like a chain. Innumerable acts of diverse kinds are involved in this movement towards fuller clarity.36 It takes time to carry out this verification process. One of James's strengths is his insistence on truth as the result of a process37 - not as a punctual flash such as a direct physical contact or a simple logical ascertainment. About any conception, he urges us to ask, 'What is it known as? In what facts does it result? What is its cash-value, in terms of particular experience? and what special difference would come into the world according as it were true or false?'38 A commentator explains: 'When I know the object, what I know are its relations to me. The object then is what it is "known-as" - a term James often uses which he obtained from Shadworth Hodgson, the British empiricist.'39 James gives us an example: 'Matter is known as our sensations of colour, figure, hardness and the like. They are the cash-value of the term. The difference matter makes to us by truly being is that we then get such sensations.'40 To conclude this section, on the one hand I applaud James's endeavour of transposing the issues of truth into a new key, attuned to the primacy of action. He devotes long and useful considerations to the differences that ideas make in all walks of life. On the other hand, perhaps because of the generality of his thesis, most of the time his treatment of truth remains undifferentiated. One must ask: Does his description of the verification process apply equally to the canons of empirical science and to the justification of religious tenets? Does he confuse the respective rules of the natural sciences, the social sciences, philosophy, history, ethics, common sense, religious belief, and mystical experience? Having expressed some reticence on a few epistemological points, I shall nevertheless not venture to pronounce on James's pragmatism as a whole. In the next sections, in accord with my goals in this book, I shall simply explore ways in which his pragmatic approach throws some light on the effects of transcendent experiences. I shall discuss, first, the epistemological side and, second, the moral side of religion.

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The Divine as an Undubitable Object In The Varieties of Religious Experience, the self-sufficiency of immediate

experience, purportedly independent from thought, emerges from the excessively strong parallel that James draws between sensations and mysticism. 'Our senses, namely, have assured us of certain states of fact; but mystical experiences are as direct perceptions of fact for those who have them as any sensations ever were for us' (423-4; W336). Justifiable though it is for the sake of description, the analogy of direct perception should nevertheless not serve to establish the independence of mystical experiences from human thought. In his second lecture, James talks of 'religious objects' (27, W31). In contrast to Schleiermacher and Otto, he does not assume the Kantian critique of the metaphysical object. As a matter of fact, he alludes to Kant's tenet that God cannot be an object of human knowledge. Having dubbed it 'a curious doctrine,' which belongs to a 'particularly uncouth part of his philosophy,' James proceeds to bend it to his own purposes in a manner that is uncongenial to Kant's concerns (54-8; W52-5).41 Furthermore, as he looks for the broadest possible category to characterize those religious objects, he settles for the term 'divine' to denote 'any object that is godlike, whether it be a concrete deity or not' (34, W36). This attempt to enlarge the purview of religion is phenomenologically sound but the semantic consistency of 'the divine' is jeopardized when he remarks that it need not be infinite (525-6, W413). From the 'higher part of the universe' (516, W406), from 'a larger power that is friendly to him [man] and to his ideals' (525, W413), any spiritual effect that grounds personal security and enhances human trust is welcomed as a divine influence (485-6, W382-3; 517, W407). For James, the worth of religion resides in the cheerful acceptance of the universe as 'absolutely good' (80, W73; see 40-1, W40-1). Yet how can a finite entity be 'absolutely good'? Interestingly, ten years earlier, James spoke of God as an infinite thinker.42 James underscores the authoritativeness of mystical states. He asserts: 'Mystical states, when well developed, usually are, and have the right to be, absolutely authoritative over the individuals to whom they come' (422, W335). Even so, ought we not to ask whether such authoritative status must be accepted at once without any doubt? A commanding aura may very well emanate from transcendent experiences. But it is the privilege of intelligent freedom to probe them in order to decide whether it can trust their authenticity. Indeed, it is out of a sense of

100 Part 2: Historic Contributions intellectual honesty that people feel bound to ask questions about what has happened to them. James himself, as will become clear in our next section, relentlessly sought for criteria regarding the will to believe. Moreover, one of the authors James quotes raises doubts about the validity of his experience. After writing that 'the spiritual life justifies itself to those who live it/ J. Trevor admits: 'I have severely questioned the worth of these moments.' Then he adds: 'But I find that, after every questioning and test, they stand out to-day as the most real experiences of my life, and experiences which have explained and justified and unified all past experiences and all past growth. Indeed, their reality and their far-reaching significance are ever becoming more clear and evident' (397, W315). On the other hand, James perceptively sees religious experience as the gateway to mystical consciousness. The goal of 'the sense of presence' (60, W57) and of 'inarticulate feelings of reality' (74, W67) is to make us relativize ordinary consciousness and discover that 'there lie potential forms of consciousness entirely different' (388, W308). Besides 'primary consciousness' (233, W190) lies the field of a wider, subconscious self (511-15, W402-5), which is highly significant both psychologically and mystically. In an essay entitled 'A Suggestion about Mysticism/43 James gives a helpful analogy, a non-religious reminiscence of his own, which enables us to realize that transcendent experiences are not unlike mundane phenomena of an intuitive kind. In such enlargements of the conscious field, a mass of subconscious memories, conceptions, emotional feelings, and perceptions of relation comes into view all at once. This rapid unification amounts to an illumination or even a rapture. The field of consciousness expands so fast that there seems no time for the intellect to keep pace. And after the event, James testifies, he could not shake off the feeling that he had experienced a sudden opening, that he had seen distant realities through a window. On the role of mystical states he says in The Varieties: They break down the authority of the non-mystical or rationalistic consciousness, based upon the understanding and the senses alone. They show it to be only one kind of consciousness. They open out the possibility of other orders of truth, in which, so far as anything in us vitally responds to them, we may freely continue to have faith' (423, W335). Mystical states count as breakthroughs towards 'an unseen order' (53, W51). Their vividness gives to religious people what John Henry Newman calls 'real apprehensions.'44 James states: 'The sentiment of

William James and Religious Experience 101 reality can indeed attach itself so strongly to our object of belief that our whole life is polarized through and through, so to speak, by its sense of the existence of the thing believed in' (55, W53). The Will to Believe Having expounded the noetic consequences of topical religious events, we must now concentrate on its moral effects. In particular, what is the connection between transcendent experiences and the will to believe, which erects an eminently ethical standpoint? Evidently, significant religious experiences have influenced James's view of religion as 'any total reaction upon life,' as a basic attitude 'towards the whole of life,' an attitude which, far from being 'trifling' or 'sneering' (35, W36-7), has 'something solemn, serious, and tender' about itself (38, W39). Moreover, James's ethical concerns have impinged upon his acknowledgement of the two opposed sides of religion: 'Beauty and hideousness, love and cruelty, life and death keep house together in indissoluble partnership; and there gradually steals over us, instead of the old warm notion of a man-loving Deity, that of an awful power that neither hates nor loves, but rolls all things together meaninglessly to a common doom. This is an uncanny, a sinister, a nightmare view of life.'45 This beautifully written passage sounds like an echo of chapter 11 of The Bhagavad-Gita (see the introduction in this book, note 6) and foreshadows Rudolf Otto's stress on the ambivalence of The Sacred (see chapter 8). James highlights the role of emotional factors in our outreach towards truth. As early as 1890, he writes: 'In its inner nature belief, or the sense of reality, is a sort of feeling more allied to the emotions than to anything else.'46 Yet above all, he has the great merit of asking what kind of worldview is most likely best to channel human energies towards creativity and accomplishment. He considers three: materialism, which breeds cynicism and nihilism; idealistic monism, which goes along with fatalism; and radical pluralism, which strengthens free-will. In James's opinion, materialism ought to be rejected, because the visible world is morally too ambiguous to afford sufficient support for full meaning; such meaning calls for 'an unseen spiritual order.' Monism and radical pluralism compete in this respect. They have something highly significant in common: 'that we have a right to believe the physical order to be only a partial order; that we have a right to supplement it by an unseen spiritual order which we assume on trust, if only thereby life may seem to us better worth living again.' Or: 'that the

102 Part 2: Historic Contributions world of our present natural knowledge is enveloped in a larger world of some sort of whose residual properties we at present can frame no positive idea.'47 To adjudicate which worldview wields greater moral power, he puts forward two criteria: trust and responsibility. So far as the idealistic monism of romanticism is concerned, he concedes that it generates trust. If the universe is the stage where an encompassing and allpowerful Spirit is in full control of every event, self-surrender to such total goodness constitutes the natural response and our minds are set at rest. However, he is wary that such an attitude could presuppose determinism and hence lack of human freedom and responsibility.48 He therefore sees 'the mystic range of consciousness' as ambiguous: 'It is on the whole pantheistic and optimistic, or at least the opposite of pessimistic. It is anti-naturalistic' (422, W334). James favours another philosophical framework - an indeterministic pluralism of free wills - in which action brings about a better future. It is at this juncture that he inserts 'the will to believe,' that is, the assumption that a limited God assists human beings in their endeavour to be morally responsible. This belief helps us change reality. In opposition to materialistic pessimism and deterministic optimism, James adopts 'the doctrine of meliorism,' which states that activism can ameliorate the human conditon. He invites us to participate in 'the workshop of being, where we catch fact in the making.' Our acts are these facts which change the world.49 He emphatically underlines our ability to shape the future by bringing new realities into existence. 'Our judgments at any rate change the character of future reality by the acts to which they lead. Where these acts are acts expressive of trust - trust, e.g., that a man is honest, that our health is good enough, or that we can make a successful effort - which acts may be a needed antecedent of the trusted things becoming true.'50 For James religion can exercise a strong influence on such creativity. As he remarks, 'there is a certain class of truths of whose reality belief is a factor.' He adds: 'The truths cannot become true till our faith has made them so.' And he concludes: 'There are then cases where faith creates its own verification.'51 As regards evil, James claims that the above-mentioned frame of mind does allow our fighting impulse to combat it and possibly overthrow it. 'Suppose, however thickly evils crowd upon you, that your unconquerable subjectivity proves to be their match, and that you find a more wonderful joy than any passive pleasure can bring in trusting

William James and Religious Experience 103 ever in the larger whole. Have you not now made life worth living on these terms?'52 One may ask whether James is not overly optimistic in these lines. Yet, as a basis for responsible conduct, his argument holds water. It is based on a congruence between our spontaneous powers and the nature of reality, and more precisely of future reality, as fashioned by human effort. That congruence entails a particular mood called 'seriousness' or 'the strenuous mood,' in contrast to 'the easygoing type' of the overconfident.53 Among the fruits of religious experience, 'the genuinely strenuous life' is the best (259, W210). In James's works, the connection between major religious episodes in people's life and their moral commitment appears to be somewhat indirect.54 The intermediary link is the sense of a larger reality, derived from the influence of transcendent experiences upon a consciousness that becomes less and less restricted. Based on this expanded consciousness and this sense of a fuller reality, 'the will to believe' becomes possible. Then such belief underpins an ethical stance. Nevertheless, James would admit that 'the strenuous mood' can stand on its own in persons who are totally unmystical. However, their ethical concern requires a basic 'spiritual' or 'religious' assumption, understood in the broadest sense. Summary In conclusion, James's phenomenology is instructive. He must be thanked for sharing with his audience instances of religious events that have helped many people become more open to the infinite. His documentation on narratives of religious experiences surpasses the little that Kant, Schleiermacher, and Hegel had to say about them. Unfortunately, James's views on the place of feeling carry the serious liability of overlooking the influence of cognitive elements before and during religious experiences, and not only after those experiences have occurred. Chapter 1 of this book has shown how some existential concern and thinking constitutes the preparation for transcendent experiences and therefore shapes them. By contrast, James regularly introduces knowledge as either merely caused by feeling or coming from outside and thus extrinsic to it. He suggests that the cognitive elements that derive from feeling may be concomitant with it (rarely, he seems to believe) in the experience itself; but he does not highlight the active role of knowledge as contributing to the determination of feeling. However, when he locates knowledge after feeling, he means - and rightly so -

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that the more systematic or theoretical knowledge usually - but not always! - occurs after lived experience as a reflection upon it. There remains the need to emphasize that laying stress on the significance of exceptional experiences should not make us downplay, as James does, ordinary religious insights or pious sentiments. Such ordinary insights and sentiments constitute the stuff of daily spiritual life. As maintaining a stable relationship with the divine, they are highly valuable and meritorious. By contrast, transcendent experiences are transient and typical of the early phases of religious awareness. Instead of being goals in themselves, they should merely serve as a launch pad for an earnest and long mystical journey. By virtue of their important role, yet without being unduly fascinated by them, it is worthwhile to focus on such arresting experiences. Indeed, their revelatory capacity is great, whether ultimate concern has been dormant or active in an individual. By insisting on the fruits of religious experience (our sixth element in chapter 1), James is in line with the great traditions of spiritual discernment. As he frames the issue in terms of practical results, his position is consonant with most religions' insistence on love and the primacy accorded to action by modern philosophy. Moreover by submitting that unitary experiences foster trust in reality, he suggests that the will to believe is capable of bringing about good effects in the world.

Chapter 7

Rudolf Otto and the Numinous

In the last section of chapter 1, we introduced the typology of Rudolf Otto (1869-1937). The present chapter will discuss more amply his views on transcendent experience. Otto, who taught at the University of Marburg, published Das Heilige in 1917; this classic on mysticism was translated into English as The Idea of the Holy.1 Joachim Wach shares his recollections of this most unusual professor: An air of genuine mystery surrounded Otto. Familiarity was the last thing which a visitor would have expected of the great scholar or which he himself would have encouraged. The students who followed his lectures tensely and with awe called him the Saint ('Der Heilige,' an allusion to the title of his magnum opus). In the sense in which he himself used this term, not in its modern sentimentalized or moralizing meaning, this designation was singularly appropriate. Neither before nor since my meeting Otto have I known a person who impressed one more genuinely as a true mystic.2

These reminiscences of Wach's are confirmed by the tone of The Idea of the Holy. We hear the distinctive voice of a man who has contemplated the holy in his life. Moreover, he urges his audience to identify the holy in their own life: 'The reader is invited to direct his mind to a moment of deeply-felt religious experience' (8). The ineffable transcendent experience can be evoked only for the sake of the reader 'until he reach the point at which "the numinous" in him perforce begins to stir, to start into life and into consciousness' (7). Therefore, Otto sets himself the following goal: 'It will be our endeavour to suggest this unnamed Something to the reader as far as we may, so that he may himself feel it' (6).

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Otto is an heir to the early Schleiermacher. Because of its rhetorical appeals to personal experience, The Idea of the Holy resembles On Religion. His preference for this first important work of Schleiermacher comes to the fore in an article that praises the Speeches and that laments the dilution of the author's mysticism in his later theology.3 This is also quite clear if one reads Otto's 1926 introduction to the Speeches.4 He considers the first edition more authentic than the subsequent, revised, editions (xix). He prefers the youthful, exuberant, romantic writer to the mature, nuanced, and dogmatically concerned author of The Christian Faith. About Schleiermacher's later writings, he remarks: 'Many of these later productions forfeited the original meaning, richness, and impact in the interests of a stricter and more systematic treatment. In basic content the Glaubenslehre is poorer than the Speeches' (xii). Since my chapter on Schleiermacher has underlined both the continuity and the progress from On Religion to The Christian Faith, I obviously cannot agree with Otto's verdict. Nonetheless, his assessment of the two Schleiermachers is noteworthy, for it indicates consistency in Otto's thinking. In fact, most of his tenets are very close to the views propounded in the Speeches. Instances of such positions are the nature of feeling, the uniqueness and ineffability of transcendent experience, the interplay between the non-rational and the rational, the existence of a religious a priori, and the positing of a faculty that perceives the numinous. To each of these topics we now turn to exhibit both the similarities between Otto and the Schleiermacher of On Religion and the differences between him and the Schleiermacher of The Christian Faith. Feeling or Emotion? In 1909 Otto published a book on Kant and Fries.5 In the 'Author's Notes on the Translation,' written at the time that the English translation was submitted, one finds two important observations on feeling. The first one reads: The German expression "Gefiihl" is not quite "emotion." "Gefiihl" can mean a form of cognizance in an unconceptual or preconceptual way. In this sense "Gefiihl" is acknowledged by Fries as a possible source of cognizances apart from sensual or conceptual cognizances.'6 The second observation treats the cognate concept of 7 'presentiment': '"Ahnung" is not so much "man's deepest longing and need" as a "Gefiihl," in the sense mentioned above. It comes very near to what I have described in The Idea of the Holy as "divination."' For Otto, who follows Fries's position, Gefiihl is more than an emo-

Rudolf Otto and the Numinous 107 tion because it has a valid cognitional import. It is akin to a 'presentiment' (Ahnung) or a 'divination' (Ahndung). Far from amounting to a mode of self-consciousness as in The Christian Faith, this sense is in line with Schleiermacher's standpoint in the Speeches, where feelings supply non-conceptual intuitions. Of the latter, Otto writes in The Idea of the Holy: they must certainly be termed cognitions, modes of knowing, though, of course, not the product of reflection, but the intuitive outcome of feeling. Their import is the glimpse of an Eternal, in and beyond the temporal and penetrating it, the apprehension of a ground and meaning of things in and beyond the empirical and transcending it. They are surmises or inklings of a Reality fraught with mystery and momentousness. And it is to be noted that Schleiermacher himself sometimes avails himself of the term ahnden (divining, surmise) instead of his principal ones, 'intuition' and 'feeling.' (147) Even though religious Gefiihl is not strictly speaking an emotion, the vocabulary and the mood of The Idea of the Holy strongly convey the sense that Gefiihl consists of powerful emotions. Otto follows William James in asserting that religious feelings are stronger than their counterparts in ordinary life, namely 'feelings familiar enough in a weaker form in other departments of experience' (8). He speaks of 'a moment of deeply-felt religious experience' (Moment starker religioser Erregtheit)

(8), an element which 'is most actively present' (sich geregt hat) (9). Of the non-rational he says that 'it arouses in the living mind a specific feeling-response' (Gefiihls-reaktion), that 'it grips and stirs the human mind with this and that determinate affective state' (Gefiihlsbestimmtheit), and that 'it is the deepest and most fundamental element in all strong and sincerely felt religious emotion' (Gefiihls-regung) (12). Otto often stresses the fact of emotional intensity, for instance in a passage on mysticism where he mentions 'its overbrimming religious emotion' (Gefiihls-uberschwang) (29). To express this, he usually employs Gefiihl rather than Erregung, although the root Regung (emotion, arousal) is noticeable in some of the above-mentioned phrases. All of these statements show us that Otto is involved in a forceful rehabilitation of feeling, in opposition to the rationalism of those who exalt conceptual thinking over against emotion. At times Otto extols feeling with a real flamboyance - reminiscent of James - which is particularly apparent in the following text: 'The "mystery" is for him [the creature] not merely something to be wondered at but something

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that entrances him; and beside that in it which bewilders and confounds, he feels a something that captivates and transports him with a strange ravishment, rising often enough to the pitch of dizzy intoxication; it is the Dionysiac-element [sic] in the numen' (31). The only place where Otto qualifies the intensity of this religious feeling is a passage that mentions the nuances of feeling. He declares: 'The feeling of it [the mysterium tremendum] may at times come sweeping like a gentle tide, pervading the mind with a tranquil mood of deepest worship' (12). Still, the paragraph from which this excerpt comes underscores the high pitch of the other nuances of feeling.8 The emotional side of the numinous is particularly noteworthy if we consider the deep impression made upon Otto by Abraham's attitude regarding the awesome God: When Abraham ventures to plead with God for the men of Sodom, he says (Gen. xviii.27): 'Behold now, I have taken upon me to speak unto the Lord, which am but dust and ashes.' There you have a self-confessed 'feeling of dependence', which is yet at the same time far more than, and something other than, merely a feeling of dependence. Desiring to give it a name of its own, I propose to call it 'creature-consciousness' or creature-feeling. It is the emotion of a creature, submerged and overwhelmed by its own nothingness in contrast to that which is supreme above all creatures. (9-10) This utter self-devaluation in the creature-feeling reminds us of the biblical examples that Hegel adduces to illustrate the second moment of his dialectic, where the infinite totally negates the finite and the finite appears as nothing and worthless. Contrary to Hegel's cool speculations on this theme, the story of the 'submerged and overwhelmed' Abraham leaves no doubt whatsoever as to the emotional character of Otto's sense of the holy. For him this religious experience of Abraham is the paradigmatic instance of the numinous. The same accent on the emotional character of Geftihl recurs as Otto distances himself from the Schleiermacher of The Christian Faith. In a passage where he describes the element of 'overpoweringness' (majestas) in the mysterium tremendum, Otto distinguishes two different ways of experiencing the relation between Creator and creature. First, there is the consciousness of createdness (Geschaffenheit), the sober, metaphysical feeling of absolute dependence that we find in Schleiermacher. Second, there is the consciousness of creaturehood (Geschoplichkeit), the emotional, existential feeling that Otto attributes to Abraham (20-1).

Rudolf Otto and the Numinous 109 Otto depreciates Schleiermacher's view that there are two steps in the experience of absolute dependence. 'According to him the religious emotion would be directly and primarily a sort of sd/-consciousness, a feeling concerning oneself in a special, determined relation, viz. one's dependence. Thus, according to Schleiermacher, I can only come upon the very fact of God as the result of an inference, that is, by reasoning to a cause beyond myself to account for my "feeling of dependence"' (10). This criticism takes us back to our discussion in the chapter on Schleiermacher (see the section 'The Awareness of the "Whence"'), where we debated whether or not the idea of God is included in the feeling of absolute dependence. Otto thinks that for Schleiermacher the idea of God is inferred from the experience, whereas Hans Frei interprets him differently: 'Notice that Schleiermacher does not say: From the feeling of absolute dependence I make the inferential move to the presence of God - no, the feeling itself is the relation; God is co-present in that specific modification of my presence to myself.'9 Frei is right in maintaining that there is no inferential move. However, as we have noted in our chapter on Schleiermacher, the idea of God comes from outside - that is, does not derive from the experience of absolute dependence. Thus Otto correctly observes that Schleiermacher's awareness of being conditioned (as effect by cause) belongs to the rational side of religion. Accordingly Otto is right when he adds that 'a sense of this [of being conditioned as effect by cause] does not enter at all into that immediate and first-hand religious emotion which we have in a moment of worship' (20). However, taking Otto at his word, are we not entitled to ask whether, like Schleiermacher, he does not project rational elements into 'that immediate and first-hand religious emotion' in the very way he interprets it? Both authors have recourse to the distinction between the prereflective and the reflective but they frequently lose sight of its implications. Given that one aspect of religious experience is indeed entirely prereflective, then one finds at this stage neither absolute dependence (pace Schleiermacher) nor any idea of creaturehood and of God (pace Otto). But this issue needs to be addressed further. Uniqueness and Ineffability Emotional as the creature-feeling is, it cannot be assimilated to other feelings. Since it is 'a unique original element' (6), it requires a special category, 'the numinous': 'This category is perfectly sui generis and irreducible to any other' (7). The experiential basis for this uniqueness

110 Part 2: Historic Contributions is that 'it appears as a strange and mighty propulsion towards an ideal good known only to religion' (36). True, the term 'holy/ when used to talk about the ineffable numinous, does also refer to moral goodness, either as a highly prized object or as Kant's holy will. However, Otto claims that there is an '"extra" in the meaning of 'holy' above and beyond the meaning of goodness' (6). In the light of religious experience, he feels entitled to assert that, besides its moral significance, the word 'holy' 'includes in addition - as even we cannot but feel - a clear overplus of meaning.' It follows that the meaning of 'holy' is not derived from ethics in an ascending, reasoning manner; on the contrary, the moral idea of the 'completely good' derives from the religious sense of the numinous (5). Taking his cue from Hebrew, Greek, and Latin, each of those languages having a special term that refers to this Reality, Otto proceeds to create a new German word, das Numinose, 'the numinous' (6-7). This peculiar term serves to designate what is unique in religious experience as distinct from moral experience. He illustrates his point as follows: 'Next, in the probing and analysis of such states of the soul as that of solemn worship, it will be well if regard be paid to what is unique in them rather than to what they have in common with other similar states. To be rapt in worship is one thing; to be morally uplifted by the contemplation of a good deed is another; and it is not to their common features, but to those elements of emotional content peculiar to the first that we would have attention directed as precisely as possible' (8). As he discusses the feeling of dependence, Otto observes that the actual experience, when compared with ordinary situations of dependence, entails not a difference of degree but a difference of intrinsic quality (9). Correct though his assertion is, unfortunately it is associated with a misreading of Schleiermacher, for whom the feeling of absolute dependence radically differs from the feeling of relative dependence. More than a difference of degree is involved in the transition from the combination of partial dependence and partial freedom, which is typical of interactions between finite beings, to the sheer dependency that uniquely characterizes the relation of the entire finite world to the infinite. Contrary to what Otto thinks, Schleiermacher and he are at one concerning the uniqueness of religious experience. For Otto, in addition to being unique, the numinous is an ineffable experience. Its 'quite specific element... remains inexpressible ... in the sense that it completely eludes apprehension in terms of concepts' (5). To indicate that it is above human reason, he could have employed the

Rudolf Otto and the Numinous 111 adjective 'supra-rational,' Instead he uses the adjective 'non-rational' (irrational). The English translator renders the German irrational by the paraphrase 'non-rational or supra-rational' (22), which felicitously suggests that in Otto's usage 'irrational' encompasses both the non-rational and the supra-rational. As long as he affirms the supra-rational as the incomprehensibility and ineffability of the divine, Otto is on solid ground. However, he then collapses the supra-rational state of the numinous into a non-rational state, evidently characteristic of feeling construed as ruling out any concomitant interpretive role on the part of reason. Consequently he goes as far as to apply the adjective 'wholly non-rational' to 'the transcendent Reality' (22). Because of Otto's assumption (despite his protestations to the contrary) that the best of religious experience consists in feeling, the numinous is pronounced non-rational both as an experience and an object of experience. Although he acknowledges the normal working of human intelligence, he nevertheless keeps it apart from religious experience proper. Evidently Otto's insistence on the non-rational puts too much stock on a mere intuition conveyed by feeling. As chapter 4 states, our conviction of utter dependence and our awareness of God require a minimum of interpretation. Surely they are spurred by feeling, yet they do not originate from it. To revert to the distinction just introduced between religious experience and its object, should we not say, against Otto, that the feeling called the numinous is not unique, whereas the Reality to which it points is unique? The feeling is not unique since it has been pre-shaped on the analogy with ordinary emotions displayed in ideograms, as we shall see below. However, it carries the conviction of being present to a Reality that is unique in the sense that this Reality absolutely transcends the realm of our everyday experience. The Non-rational and the Rational The Idea of the Holy bears the subtitle, An Inquiry into the Non-rational Factor in the Idea of the Divine and Its Relation to the Rational. Accordingly

the book presents us with a phenomenology whose hallmark is a strong emphasis on the affective element of religion, but it also tries to explain how this element relates to rational forms of apprehension. In chapter 13, entitled 'The Two Processes of Development,' Otto shows that the non-rational and the rational processes aid each other. 'By the continual living activity of its non-rational elements a religion is

112 Part 2: Historic Contributions guarded from passing into "rationalism." By being steeped in and saturated with rational elements it is guarded from sinking into fanaticism or mere mysticality, or at least from persisting in these, and is qualified to become a religion for all civilized humanity' (141). On the one hand, with its accent on the inexpressible, the numinous prevents religion from being narrowed down to a matter of doctrine and morality. On the other hand, rationality helps mysticism to purify its feelings, ideas, and ethical attitudes. For Otto, those two processes of development constitute a 'permeation of the rational with the nonrational' (109). It is important to notice Otto's preference for the non-rational factor. At the very outset of The Idea of the Holy, he quotes a line from Goethe's Faust, 'Das Schaudern ist der Menscheit bestes TeiV (Awe is the best of

man) (also quoted later, 40). In his Foreword to the first English edition he writes: 'This book, recognizing the profound import of the nonrational for metaphysic, makes a serious attempt to analyse all the more exactly the feeling which remains where the concept fails' (xxi). And in chapter 1, entitled 'The Rational and the Non-rational,' the author marks off his position from 'a one-sidedly intellectualistic and rationalistic interpretation' of religion which he finds in the orthodox Christianity of his time (3). Otto calls attention to the fact that he has equally investigated the other side of religion: 'Before I ventured upon this field of inquiry I spent many years of study upon the rational aspect of that supreme Reality we call "God," and the results of my work are contained in my books [his first two books]' (xxi). Again, talking about one of those books, he declares his intention: 'In The Philosophy of Religion I wished to present the "rational" factor in Religion, which, for me, is no less important and essential than the non-rational.'10 These two quotations make it clear that both the 'supreme Reality' and 'Religion' - the object and the experience - involve a rational and a non-rational aspect. As the translator indicates in his Preface to The Idea of the Holy: 'The two elements, the rational and the non-rational, have to be regarded (in his favourite simile) as the warp and the woof of the complete fabric, neither of which can dispense with the other' (xvii). In order to preserve belief expressible in rational language, Otto even objects to the saying by Goethe quoted in the chapter above on Schleiermacher. He writes: 'of Christianity at least it is false that "feeling is all, the name but sound and smoke"; - where "name" stands for conception or thought' (1). Otto's defence of thought here is in line with

Rudolf Otto and the Numinous 113 a previous text of his, dated 1904, in which he states that the two aspects of religion do intermingle: 'No actually existing form of religion is so entirely made up of "feeling," "subjectivity," or "mood," that it can dispense with all assumptions or convictions regarding the nature and import of the world. In fact, every form, on closer examination, reveals a more or less fixed framework of convictions, theoretical assumptions, and presuppositions in regard to man, the world, and existence: that is to say, a theory, however simple, of the universe.'11 In The Idea of the Holy, unfortunately, Otto may have abandoned this view of the intertwinement between feeling and the theoretical framework. Or, if he has not repudiated it, he may have understood it as a mere juxtaposition rather than an interpenetration. In order to ascertain whether this is the case, let us examine how he conceives of the relationship between the affective and the rational side of religion. To account for that relationship, he brings in Kant's idea of schematization. He may have been inspired by Schleiermacher, who saw the relevance of schematization to the emergence of religion: 'In our relationship to this world there are certain transitions into the infinite, vistas that are hewn through, before which each person is led so that his sense might find the way to the universe and upon whose sight feelings are stimulated that, to be sure, are not immediately religion, but that are, if I may say so, a schematism of the same' (1799: 150; see 157). Unfortunately Schleiermacher does not develop this clue; in subsequent editions of the Speeches, he even drops it. Otto reminds us of the combination, in Kant's philosophy, of a category (for instance causality) with a schema (for instance a temporal sequence of two successive events). Otto then establishes a similar conjunction between the non-rational and the rational element in religion. Just as any scientific connection between a concept and a schema expresses a necessary correspondence, so the connection between a religious intuition and its schema has an inward and lasting character (45-6,136). Otto's works do not display any difference between such a schema and an ideogram (see 19,24,26,30,35,60), which are both set in contradistinction to concepts proper.12 For Otto, concepts belong in science whereas religious intuitions constitute the core of the numinous. In the combination of the numinous with the sublime, for instance, the latter plays the role of a schema: it 'schematizes' the numinous, or makes it imaginable, by associating it with the world of human speech (41-2; 45-6). For Otto, the Kantian sublime is the aesthetic counterpart to the aspect of the numinous that he calls the mysterium. Although the

114 Part 2: Historic Contributions sublime like the numinous is an idea that cannot be unfolded or explicated, it nevertheless provides us with 'some general "rational" signs that uniformly recur as soon as we call an object sublime' (41). In other words, what we know about the sublime serves as an analogy that is based on 'a hidden kinship between the numinous and the sublime' (63) and that enables us to talk about the ineffable numinous. Otto's entire book can be seen as a splendid exercise in religious analogizing. Beginning with the paradigmatic experience of Abraham's creature-feeling, he ascribes to it a new name, 'the numinous.' He calls it mysterium tremendum and he analyses its elements. Tremendum includes awefulness, overpoweringness, and energy or urgency; mysterium includes the Wholly Other and fascination. Every time he proceeds to depict one of those elements, Otto adduces denotations and connotations drawn from the sphere of the rational. Having explained that for Otto the holy is a broader field than the numinous since it includes both the rational and the non-rational side of religious experience, Almond correctly adds: 'The rational elements of the Holy schematize the nonrational numinous elements.'13 For example, Otto suggests that the phrase 'the wrath of God' can introduce us to the element of tremendum. Commenting on its noetic role, he explains his procedure: 'It will be again at once apparent that in the use of this word we are not concerned with a genuine intellectual "concept," but only with a sort of illustrative substitute for a concept. "Wrath" here is the "ideogram" of a unique emotional moment in religious experience, a moment whose singularly daunting and aweinspiring character must be gravely disturbing' (18-19). As he discusses the mysterium, Otto says 'Taken, indeed, in its purely natural sense, mysterium would first mean merely a secret or a mystery in the sense of that which is alien to us, uncomprehended and unexplained; and so far mysterium is itself merely an ideogram, an analogical notion taken from the natural sphere, illustrating, but incapable of exhaustively rendering, our real meaning' (26). Finally, the same process of schematization recurs with the element of 'fascinans': 'The ideas and concepts which are the parallels or "schemata" on the rational side of this non-rational element of "fascination" are love, mercy, pity, comfort; these are all "natural" elements of the common psychical life, only they are here thought as absolute and in completeness' (31; see 140). All this having been said, the question arises: Is 'the rational' the appropriate word for characterizing these schemata or ideograms which allow us to illustrate the numinous? Two indications taken from Otto

Rudolf Otto and the Numinous 115 himself suggest that it is not. The first is to the effect that 'divination/ which presumably intuits the divine, is matched with the aesthetic judgments that Kant describes in his third Critique. Otto tells us that language concerning the holy is not logical or scientific but is commanded by 'obscure, dim principles of judgment, based on pure feeling' (148; see 147-9). Such admirable Kantian principles, drawn from the field of aesthetics, which I praised in chapter 3, bespeak a manner of knowing that is altogether different from the sense the adjective 'rational' commonly has in German or English. The second indication comes from the fact that Otto situates the rational halfway between the numinous and the erotic. Although the numinous stands above reason whereas the erotic lies below it, both share the common condition of having no means of linguistic expression besides those drawn from the field of the rational. The rational, therefore, provides them the schemata they need (46-7). In this context, 'the rational' designates, not speculative thinking, but the capacity for linguistic expression. At this phase of our investigation, we may begin to realize that Otto's phrase 'the rational' is to be taken in the broadest possible sense. Surprisingly it no longer designates the intellectual side of religion, in contrast to which the numinous received its epithet 'non-rational.' Here 'the rational' refers to the vast field of the expressible, which includes several non-conceptual elements - to be spelled out in our next section. Let us continue to explore this sphere of the expressible, which complements the ineffable numinous. Since schematization draws on '"natural" elements of the common psychical life/ it can translate 'fundamentally non-rational elements' (31) into ideograms. Thus such religious elements are transposed to the sphere of 'the rational.' As Otto explains, 'the methods by which the numinous feeling is presented and evoked are indirect; i.e. they consist in those means by which we express kindred and similar feelings belonging to the "natural" sphere' (61, italics added; see 63). So 'the rational' denotes the 'natural' sphere which provides analogies for the numinous. 'The symbolic' would be a better name for it, at least at the stage that precedes scholarly investigations of it. The sole justification I can see for Otto's use of the term 'rational' with respect to this sphere of expression is that a non-scientific human intelligence is at work there. I agree with Otto that this intelligent exercise is conceptual in the broad sense since it employs general ideas: 'All language, in so far as it consists of words, purports to convey ideas or concepts' (2; see

116 Part 2: Historic Contributions 13). Still, for Otto and Kant, schematization is not strictly speaking conceptual, since the ideogram is not 'a genuine intellectual "concept," but only ... a sort of illustrative substitute for a concept' (19). In his description of the all-important linguistic field constituted by schemata or ideograms, Otto's already rich analysis would be enhanced by a distinction between a symbolic and a systematic phase.14 In a first, more symbolic phase, the cognitional activities that give rise to the schemata are spontaneous in the sense that they are triggered by circumstances. During this phase, the human intellect operates in intimate conjunction with the imagination, as is obvious from the presence of anthropomorphisms, which Otto values in religious language (see 2-4; 23). It is only in a second, more systematic phase, that the term, 'the rational,' is appropriate. Then religious knowledge can be studied and amplified by the human sciences, philosophy, or theology. The Holy as an A Priori Category Otto claims that in both its rational and non-rational features, the holy is an a priori category (112). He sets this thesis in opposition to two foes. The first is the 'evolutionist' theory that explains away transcendent experience by reducing it to a matter of 'transmutation.' Against Wundt, he argues that far from being 'evolvable' out of something merely psychological, both the feeling of moral obligation and the numinous feeling would never take place save for the active presence of the human mind or spirit (42-4).15 The second foe is the critical philosophy that reduces religious propositions to mere postulates of ethics. Against Kant, Otto maintains (as Schleiermacher did before him) that far from being 'in vassalage either to morality or to teleology,' religion has 'its own independent roots in the hidden depths of the spirit itself (136). Otto cautions against thinking that his thesis regarding the a priori character of the numinous would entail that everything comes from within. He simply holds that the capacity for religious experience is inborn. There is no such thing as an 'innate' religion, which would be independent from history (177). On the contrary, there is an interplay between the a priori and the a posteriori conditions of the numinous, between that which comes from within and that which comes from without. 'The numinous ... issues from the deepest foundation of cognitive apprehension that the soul possesses, and, though it of course comes into being in and amid the sensory data and empirical material of the natural world and cannot anticipate or dispense with those, yet it

Rudolf Otto and the Numinous 117 does not arise out o/them, but only by their means. They are the incitement, the stimulus, and the "occasion" for the numinous experience to become astir' (113). The occasion is what has been called mediatedness in our presentation of Schleiermacher's thought. Otto differentiates it into many components. In chapter 9, he subdivides the means of expression of the numinous into direct and indirect means. As far as the direct means are concerned, he suggests that they are embodied in actual people. He states that 'the numinous consciousness ... is transmitted from mind to mind.' Religious experience resides 'in reverent attitude and gesture, in tone and voice and demeanour, expressing its momentousness, and in the solemn devotional assembly of a congregation at prayer' (60). Among the indirect means, he lists: images, miracles, uncomprehended language (in rituals), architecture, music, silence, darkness, and emptiness (61-71). All that belongs to schematization can also be recalled here, in particular, feelings, metaphors, symbolic expressions (12), and anthropomorphisms (23). According to Otto, the very connection between the numinous and the various ideograms is a priori (136). As we will soon see, the ability to see the connection as appropriate is remotely grounded in an a priori faculty and proximately dependent on the fact that one possesses numinous feelings.16 Otto's position concerning the a priori character of religious experience and its interaction with the a posteriori is sound to the extent that it underlines the conditions of possibility of transcendent experience. Unfortunately it is distorted by his perceptualism or religious intuitionism: the doctrine that the numinous consists in a direct perception or intuition of an infinite object. Thus a commentator critically remarks: 'So it often seems that the numinous experience is thought of on a quasi-perceptual model.'17 An indication that he espouses this epistemological stance can be found in a passage which we quoted earlier, where he takes Schleiermacher to task for having proposed a move from self-consciousness to the 'Whence' of that consciousness. Here is the continuation of this passage: 'But this is entirely opposed to the psychological facts of the case. Rather, the "creature-feeling" is itself a first subjective concomitant and effect of another feeling-element, which casts it like a shadow, but which in itself indubitably has immediate and primary reference to an object outside the self (10; see 20). As will be demonstrated in chapters 8 and 10 (in sections on immediacy and directness), Otto's point about 'the psychological facts,' namely, the numinous experience

118 Part 2: Historic Contributions repeatedly felt as direct, is well taken. However, he betrays his perceptualism by speaking of an 'immediate and primary reference to an object.' In other words, his mistake consists in inferring from psychological facts to an epistemological position - perceptualism or religious intuitionism. To be sure, Schleiermacher would not concur with Otto's reading of The Christian Faith as saying that the judgment about the 'Whence' is 'the result of an inference.' Yet the very fact that Otto interprets Schleiermacher in this fashion is instructive, for it corroborates the ambiguity already outlined in Schleiermacher's approach to the idea of God. For the latter, the idea of God appears to be in no way influenced by a thinking process and stems purely from immediate self-consciousness. In other words, by reading Schleiermacher's text as an inference and reacting against it, Otto actually sides - albeit unwittingly - with his predecessor in underestimating the role of the cognitional context, particularly as shaping experience itself. According to Otto, the subjective effect - the numinous feeling - is the shadow of an objective reality, also called the numinous. This object is directly 'experienced as present, a numen praesens, as is in the case of Abraham.' Far from being the outcome of a reasoning process, '[t]he numinous is thus felt as objective and outside the self (11). Otto finds support in James's observation that 'a sense of reality/ 'a feeling of objective presence,' or 'a perception of ... something there' is central to religious experience. And he concludes: 'But this "feeling of reality," the feeling of a "numinous" object objectively given, must be posited as a primary immediate datum of consciousness, and the "feeling of dependence" is then a consequence, following very closely upon it, viz. a depreciation of the subject in his own eyes. The latter presupposes the former' (10-11, n.l). The English translator remarks that Otto uses two similar phrases, 'the numinous feeling' and 'the feeling of the numinous.' He contends that Otto should have always employed the latter, with its stress on 'of the numinous' as pointing to the presence of a transcendent object (xvi). He explains: 'We do after all speak of feeling the beauty of a landscape or feeling the presence of a friend, and our "feeling" in these cases is not merely an emotion engendered or stimulated in the mind but also a recognition of something in the objective situation awaiting discovery and acknowledgement' (xvii). But is it permissible to transfer this perceptualist model of subject/ object to the relationship between the human mind and the numinous?

Rudolf Otto and the Numinous 119 Granted that humans recognize finite objects, can we say that they also know the infinite in the same way? Is there a direct correspondence between feeling and object in religious experience? Does Otto's epistemology not presuppose an undue transition between 'numinous' as an adjective describing an experience and 'the numinous' as a noun designating a transcendent reality? This is what Vergote perspicaciously observes when he detects, in the category 'the holy/ the semantic mistake of shifting from the adjective to the substantive and attaching an immediate referent to the latter.18 The only argument that Otto puts forward to bear out his intuitionism (his perceptualist model) does not carry much weight. It is to the effect that we know this numinous as an object in our feelings. Obviously Otto has not seriously considered Hegel's critique of the romantic position that feeling is in itself a source of knowing. To commend this privileged cognition presumably found in feeling apart from any thinking, Otto sets up a contrast between the negativity of rational discourse and the positivity of numinous experience: 'But though what is enunciated in the word is negative, what is meant is something absolutely and intensely positive. This pure positive we can experience in feelings, feelings which our discussion can help to make clear to us, in so far as it arouses them actually in our hearts' (13). For example, having said that the terms 'supernatural' and 'transcendent' as applied to the mystery are merely negative attributes, he comments: But on the side of the feeling-content it is otherwise; that is in very truth positive in the highest degree, though here too, as before, it cannot be rendered explicit in conceptual terms. It is through this positive feelingcontent that the concepts of the 'transcendent' and 'supernatural' become forthwith designations for a unique 'wholly other' reality and quality, something of whose special character we can feel, without being able to give it clear conceptual expression. (30; see 33)

Otto also notes that in mystical states the bliss is sometimes so intense that one forgets the negative character of the human words that express it. And he concludes: 'All this teaches us the independence of the positive content of this experience from the implications of its overt conceptual expression, and how it can be firmly grasped, thoroughly understood, and profoundly appreciated, purely in, with, and from the feeling itself (34). The litmus test, then, consists in personally having or not having

120 Part 2: Historic Contributions such feelings. Along with Schleiermacher, Otto takes for granted that Kant has effectively closed the rational road to the Transcendent. Consequently all that seems open is the non-rational road, legitimized by a reliance on religious feelings. The numinous experience is pronounced to be eminently positive because it is construed as a direct encounter with the Wholly Other. By contrast, the work of philosophical reason or what is left of the rational aspect - is rather passive, since it amounts to merely reflecting the numinous by way of either ideograms or concepts that do not afford us any real knowledge. The problem that has engaged our attention in this section is not the fact of mystical consciousness, but the way Otto articulates it. We have already pointed out that Otto adopts the young Schleiermacher's view that religious feeling carries an intuition, also called 'divination' (145), 'the glimpse of an Eternal/ or 'surmises or inklings of a Reality fraught with mystery and momentousness' (147). He sides with the Schleiermacher of the Speeches and ignores The Christian Faith as he rests his case on a kind of religious intuitionism, that is, a direct perception of the numinous object in feeling. A Faculty That Perceives the Numinous Otto's appeal to the presence of numinous feelings is therefore crucial. But how can he have recourse to them if they cannot be identified except in conjunction with schemata? How can he ascertain the difference between the numinous consciousness and the rational elements which make up the religious state? We already had occasion to discuss Schleiermacher's tenet, expressed in § 5 of The Christian Faith, that the feeling of absolute dependence always coexists with the particular determinations of the sensible self-consciousness. To this position of Schleiermacher, Otto is reluctant to commit himself: Schleiermacher's assertion is perhaps true of it [the solemn moment], as of the numinous consciousness in general, viz. that it cannot really occur alone on its own account, or except combined and penetrated with rational elements. But, if this be admitted, it is upon other grounds than those adduced by Schleiermacher; while, on the other hand, it may occupy a more or less predominant place and lead to states of calm hesychia as well as of transport, in which it almost of itself wholly fills the soul. (36) Otto insists on the difference between the numinous consciousness

Rudolf Otto and the Numinous 121

and the rational elements. He sees a trap in Schleiermacher's thesis that religious consciousness never occurs purely in itself, unmixed with sensitive consciousness. For Otto, this thesis seems to jeopardize the intuitive content of the numinous experience. So he invokes what James calls 'a sense of reality, a feeling of objective presence, a perception of what we may call "something there"' (quoted at 10, n.l) as well as the unique bliss that characterizes that experience (37-8). Still, what allows Otto to identify the 'more or less' or the 'almost of itself? Is he not collapsing the transcendental into the categorial when, speaking of 'a priori factors universally and necessarily latent in the human spirit,' he equates them with 'those, in fact, which we can find directly in our own religious consciousness' (140)? By insisting that the numinous is at once the capacity to experience and the experience itself, Otto confuses the a priori with an Urphanomen, an original phenomenon, as Holm notices.19 The latter also remarks that, according to Kant, the 'pure' (rein) a priori utterly transcends the 'conscious' (Bezvufitsein).20

Unfortunately, Otto accepts the modifications that Fries brings to Kant's understanding of the a priori.21 Thus, in The Idea of the Holy, he tries to render the phenomenal experience of the numinous invulnerable by granting it an a priori status. But the price he must pay amounts to an intellectual blunder: his a priori is no longer strictly transcendental and the content borrowed from the schemata is no longer strictly categorial. Despite these epistemological mistakes, Otto is right in thinking that people can be aware of their religious experiences. Consider, for instance, what he writes about the numinous consciousness: it appears as a strange and mighty propulsion towards an ideal good known only to religion and in its nature fundamentally non-rational, which the mind knows of in yearning and presentiment, recognizing it for what it is behind the obscure and inadequate symbols which are its only expression. And this shows that above and beyond our rational being lies hidden the ultimate and highest part of our nature, which can find no satisfaction in the mere allaying of the needs of our sensuous, psychical, or intellectual impulses and cravings. The mystics called it the basis or ground of the soul. (36) Furthermore, to justify his intuitionism, Otto seems to go so far as to posit a special faculty: 'Let us call the faculty, of whatever sort it may be,

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of genuinely cognizing and recognizing the holy in its appearances the faculty of divination' (144). It should be noticed, however, that the author mentions this 'faculty' (Vermb'gen) only in his chapter on divination. In this context, Otto does not mean a faculty in a strictly technical sense. What he has in mind is rather 'an innate "divinatory" gift/ namely, the capacity, noticeable in certain contemplatives such as Goethe, of being attuned to 'something numinous in the natural world and in history' (154). In another chapter, as he discusses the a priori, Otto again suggests the existence of such a faculty, distinct from Kant's theoretical reason and practical reason: The facts of the numinous consciousness point therefore - as likewise do also the 'pure concepts of the understanding' of Kant and the ideas and value-judgments of ethics or aesthetics - to a hidden substantive source (Quell), from which the religious ideas and feelings are formed, which lies in the mind independently of sense-experience; a 'pure reason' in the profoundest sense, which, because of the 'surpassingness' of its content, must be distinguished from both the pure theoretical and the pure practical reason of Kant, as something yet higher or deeper than they. (113-14) Otto's argument remains unimpeachable inasmuch as he holds, with Kant, that our human reason is more than our capacity for senseperception. Going beyond Kant, however, he also grounds mysticism in 'a hidden "predisposition" (Anlage) of the human spirit' (115). What he has not shown is why the 'hidden substantive source/ which he calls 'a "pure reason" in the profoundest sense' (114), should be a faculty distinct from theoretical or practical reason. In point of fact he is in line with Schleiermacher's early position - which the Berlin theologian later abandoned - on the total autonomy of piety. As one commentator puts it: 'In his desire to free religion from every trace of dependence upon morality and metaphysics, and to exhibit unmistakably its unique meaning and value, Otto is led in The Idea of the Holy to a radical separation of the religious consciousness from every other primary category of meaning and value.' And this commentator proceeds to criticize Otto's position: 'The life of the spirit is thus compartmentalized and disunited; science, religion and morality are set at odds with each other; and no pathway is left from the world of sense experience to the world of religious conviction. Obviously Otto's zeal has carried him too far. The unifying function of religion in the life of the human spirit must be

Rudolf Otto and the Numinous 123 made clear at the same time as its autonomy, which Otto so forcefully portrayed, is safeguarded.'22 The insufficiency of Otto's account has to do with the topographical character of his terminology, exemplified in his reference to 'a higher level' (113) or to 'the fundus animae, the "bottom" or "ground of the soul" (Seelengrund)' (112). Lodging the a priori in a part of the soul is no adequate philosophical answer unless it is systematically related to the rest of our human acts. Readers may recall that such systematic relation is what Schleiermacher managed to accomplish in the second half of his career, thus overcoming the temptation of securing the validity of religion by excessively demarcating it from the other areas of human life. Summary By insisting that the feelings spawned by the numinous are unique, Otto differs from James, who stated that religious feelings were special by virtue of their intensity. For Otto, it is not their intensity, but their quality - a sui generis quality - that sets them apart from ordinary emotions. Unfortunately, he mars his insight by representing the sense of the numinous after the model of gripping emotions (despite his claim that the numinous is more than a matter of emotion). On the one hand, then, in departing from James, Otto comes close to Schleiermacher for he realizes that the feeling associated with the holy is not simply more vivid; on the other hand, in departing from Schleiermacher, he loses the precious distinction and relation between feeling and emotion, which his German predecessor had brilliantly expounded. To complete this brief parallel between James and Otto, I submit the following observation. Whereas James's pragmatism makes the modest claim that the religious experience is true solely for the experiencer, Otto's intuitionism proposes the bold assertion that the numinous conveys a unique, a priori, and unmediated knowledge. In this respect, Otto goes farther than any other thinker represented in this study. In his discussion of ineffability, which goes far beyond James's sketchy presentation of this mark of mysticism, Otto may presuppose two assertions: (a) the numinous cannot be captured by human concepts, and (b) the judgments whereby we ascribe certain characteristics to the numinous cannot be demonstrated. The first one is found in the following passage: 'Our understanding can only compass the relative. That which is in contrast absolute, though it may in a sense be thought, cannot be thought home, thought out; it is within the reach of our conceiv-

124 Part 2: Historic Contributions ing, but it is beyond the grasp of our comprehension' (141). This is standard Kantian as well as Thomistic doctrine, which I would like to uphold. The second assertion, explicit in Kant, is only tacitly accepted by Otto but with dire consequences. As will be clearly argued in part 3 of this book, proposition (a) is true, whereas proposition (b) is false. Having assumed not only the first but also the second one, Otto has no other recourse than to overestimate the affective side of religious experience by transforming it into an a priori, and thereby place on it a burden of proof it cannot carry. Last, Otto underestimates the fact that cognitive elements exercise a role within the numinous itself. Non-discursive yet cognitive elements wield a strong influence both before and during the transcendent experience. By restricting them to schemata or ideograms whose utility consists in being means of expression that come into play only after the experience, he effectively bars them from the sphere of the numinous, which he declares to be a priori. The latter is then construed as the object of a third faculty, distinct from theoretical and practical reason. This error is exactly the one that the later Schleiermacher fortunately discarded when he situated piety not alongside but at the source of knowledge and action.

Chapter 8

Marechal, Rahner, and Lonergan

Thus far we have examined the thought of Protestant authors only. In the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries, more Protestants than Catholics paid attention to religious experiences taking place in nature or in ordinary human life. Catholics were not the initiators of theories concerning religious experiences, but rather critics - whether sympathetic or not - who would attempt to rephrase, nuance, or correct what Protestant writers had stated. This was the case, for instance, when Catholic teachers at Tubingen tried to adopt a stance with regard to Schleiermacher.1 In the course of the twentieth century, however, three creative Catholic thinkers - Marechal, Rahner, and Lonergan - erected theoretical edifices in which those who experience transcendence could come 'to roost,' From the Transcendental to the Transcendent

In the 1920s and 1930s, the Belgian Joseph Marechal (1878-1944) carries on a systematic comparison of Thomas Aquinas and Immanuel Kant in his five 'Cahiers' entitled Le point de depart de la metaphysique.2 On the

one hand he accepts, to a large extent, the transcendental approach, that is, the attempt to uncover the conditions of possibility of any cognition. On the other hand he goes farther than Kant in demonstrating that the human mind's very functioning involves the assertion of the transcendent. For Marechal, the human mind is essentially dynamic and in its basic orientation manifests finality. As we saw in chapter 3, Kant restricts finality to the aesthetic judgment of his third Critique. In reply to the Kant of the first Critique, who represents the way we constitute objects

126 Part 2: Historic Contributions of apprehension as subsuming them under somewhat isolated and static forms, Marechal underscores the single tendency to relate them in a progressive, intentional quest for truth. Such an ordering of our cognitive acts - the most important of which are judgments - is made for the sake of attaining the goal of knowing something. 'Strictly speaking one may intend an end without being certain of reaching it, even with the certitude of never reaching it. But it would be contradictory to strive towards an end which one considers absolutely and in every respect unattainable.'21

In Cahier V, Marechal stresses two facts. First, the human intellect spontaneously operates according to a purposeful ordering of its acts and its grasped objects towards truth. One can observe in its workings an undeniable orientation towards being. Second, 'the extraordinary amplitude of intellectual finality'4 is displayed in the way the intellect stretches into infinity: 'The intellect does not find a complete rest in any particular affirmation, since none of them constitutes its last end ... It [any particular affirmation] is both the result of a previous exigency and the starting point of another one, a "formal" acquisition and a value for possible "action"; in a word, a partial quieting and an immediate reawakening of the very desire which constitutes the core of our intellectual nature, the deep and never resting desire for Being.'5 Any judgment calls a temporary halt in which the intellect finds rest. But the boundary that has just delimited a particular acquisition is soon surpassed as a new question is raised and the intellect is thus set in motion again. However, if this indefinite process obeys some kind of purpose, its finality requires the positing of an ultimate target: complete intelligibility.6 Marechal explains that every time we posit something in being, we are aware - without necessarily adverting to it - that what we posit amounts to a limited 'form' over against the unrestricted horizon of the full 'act' of being: 'the form as such is nothing but the immediate limitation of esse (to be), the limitation of act as such. In virtue of the principle of the infinite virtuality of the act, the distance between the formal limitation and the absolute fullness of esse, between the degree and the maximum, must determine, in the finite form or essence, the range of an inner drive, of an urge towards infinite selftranscendence.'7 As he rephrases the thought of Thomas Aquinas in critical dialogue with Kant, Marechal establishes a position that is reminiscent of Hegel's, which has been discussed in chapter 5. All these thinkers highlight both

Marechal, Rahner, and Lonergan 127 the dynamism and the finality of the human mind in its openness to the infinite. Marechal was not only a metaphysician but also a psychologist (with a remarkable grasp of psychopathology). The combination of these two areas of competence enabled him to make a solid contribution to the study of mysticism. Noteworthy is the fact that as early as 1908-9, in the article 'Le sentiment de presence chez les profanes et chez les mystiques/8 he highlighted the connection between epistemology and the issue of mysticism.9 There he invokes 'the dynamism of the mind, the "active potentiality," a force polarised towards something after which it aspires.'10 He contends: 'even in the supernatural surroundings of the highest degree of contemplation, we find, as a psychological factor of a higher intuition, which is hardly more than analogically a "presence," the same fundamental activity of the mind, "appetite for being," to which we have had to appeal previously in order to explain the affirmations of reality and of spatial presence.' He finds 'psychologically acceptable' the hypothesis that 'in the course of ecstasy the human mind touches for a moment the end which provokes and directs all its proceedings.'11 He scrutinizes the natural propensity to assert reality in order to show that the mystical feeling of presence is its ultimate and yet fugitive prolongation or, as he puts it a few years later in 1912, the 'instantaneous integration of its [the soul's] indefinite progression.'12 We are not going to examine in detail Marechal's views on mysticism.13 In our enquiry, we have been focusing on transcendent experiences, which usually take place during the first steps of the spiritual life, whereas Marechal is more interested in the mature mysticism of religious people like Teresa of Avila. However, in a piece written in 1941 and posthumously published, he was willing to call 'mystical' in a broad sense phenomena that are 'irreducible to common proportions,' that involve 'excess or paroxysm,' and that denote 'an unfathomable profundity,' 'a feeling (sentiment) whose available potentiality does not exhaust itself in any finite object but remains open to the infinite.' He adds: 'As "open" to the infinite, the mystical feeling is therefore primordial and spontaneous; viewed in its originating virtuality, it is singularly similar to that obscure tendency to the infinite, which underlies all our spiritual activity.'14 Such characterization is typical of transcendent experiences and here Marechal makes the connection with the life of the human spirit. However, what seems to be lacking in his studies is a location of religious experience in specific human situations, in what we have

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called the preparation and the occasion. Excellent as it is in epistemological terms, his position needs to be supplemented by the kind of phenomenology we have developed in chapter 1. It is in that direction that his successor, Karl Rahner, has moved. Fascination with the Mystery The German theologian Karl Rahner (1904-84) takes his cue from Marechal's undertaking in Le point de depart. Capitalizing on the latter's contribution, Rahner's first book, Geist in Welt, published in 1939 and translated as Spirit in the World, is the result of his reading Thomas Aquinas with a sensitivity that is at the same time Kantian, Hegelian, and Heideggerian. From Kant, he borrows the sense of the a priori; from Hegel, the explication of the dynamic spirit; and from Heidegger, being as a question. As the title of the book, Spirit in the World, suggests, the human spirit is located in the sensory world. It always operates in conjunction with the finite and yet it unfolds into the infinite. Rahner rightly construes Aquinas's active intellect as the light that enables the passive intellect to grasp a form in the image (phantasm). While conditioned by a particular phantasm, the mind experiences an intellectual liberation by applying the general form to numerous instances. A whole field of further possibilities is thereby opened, whose range is necessarily affirmed as unlimited and towards which the mind finds itself oriented in a 'preapprehension' or 'anticipatory grasp' (Vorgriff). In a lecture given in 1938 and slightly revised in 1972, which summarizes Spirit in the World, Rahner explains this process of transcending the particular: To this extent, in this dynamic outward movement of the intellect as a 'hunger' (for so it might be called with Hegel), the individual object as sensibly experienced is apprehended, recognized as that which is finite, and as failing, by reason of its limitations, to measure up to the capacity of the dynamic force in all its fulness and depth. Once the absolute epistemological ideal is applied to it as a standard, it is shown to be a being as compared with being itself, and so as a 'this', a finite individuum, the limitations of which are such as to admit of other possible objects being experienced together with itself. Now in the very act of recognizing it as particular in this sense, the universal is, by implication, recognized too and vice versa.15

Marechal, Rahner, and Lonergan 129 This transcending of the particular was pointed out in chapter 3 on Kant. Yet Rahner goes beyond Kant when he asserts a second form of disengagement from mere perception. It takes place in judgment, where existence is apprehended in the instantiation of forms that truly exist. 'Now for Thomas the intellect's transcending power avowedly bears upon being in the absolute. It extends beyond the sphere of the senses, thereby opening up a knowledge of being as such, and providing the basis on which metaphysics, with its specifically human characteristics, becomes possible.'16 To recapitulate: Rahner says that, in every conception, the form that has been grasped and abstracted extends to more than the particular; and that, in every judgment, the being that is reached is more than the finite. The condition of possibility - or better, of actuality - of this twofold intellectual release from the material is the dynamism of the human mind, which is not confined to the world of sense. Thus far, Rahner had been exploring the same territory as Marechal and reporting his observations in a language that remains very close to the latter's. Very soon, however, he began to offer his own distinctive contribution to the issue of the human person's openness to the divine. In 1941, Rahner published a much smaller book, Horer des Wortes (translated as Hearer of the Word), which expanded the discoveries of his first work into a philosophy of religion. There he wanted to show that the human person can be the addressee of divine self-communication. Subsequently, Rahner proceeded to express in various ways what was to become his principal theme: in all their intelligent and free acts, people are present to themselves and the infinite in an unthematic manner. This unthematic a priori is always linked with the thematic a posteriori, in the sense that the luminosity of being throws light on particular phantasms. Thus the transcendental requires the categorial and vice versa. Rahner's complementarity between the transcendental and the categorial allows him to elucidate the vexed question of whether transcendent experience is immediate or mediated. Let us notice that he does not construe the divine as 'an object immediately confronting us.'17 Instead, he interprets 'immediacy to God as mediated immediacy.'18 The immediacy of which he speaks does not amount to a direct vision of God. Nonetheless, there is immediacy in the sense that human transcendence is open to an Absolute Being that is radically different from finite beings. However, as a Catholic theologian, Rahner maintains that human transcendence is uplifted or elevated by the Holy

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Spirit. By virtue of divine grace believers directly partake in the life of the divine Persons. To the inner, transcendental conditions for union with God, Rahner adds the no less important outer ones, that is, people, words, and sacraments as well as events of everyday life - in short, the categorial.19 The encounter with God is mediated by the historical. At the centre of history stands the figure of Jesus Christ, the Mediator par excellence. Rahner accentuates the human openness to the infinite remarkably well. He begins by recalling the simple fact that knowledge and freedom are involved with individual objects while at the same time ever being carried beyond them. They are always situated against 'a wider unnamed, implicitly present horizon of possible knowledge and freedom as a whole.' He goes on to explain: The movement of the mind and freedom, the horizon of this movement, is boundless. Every object of our consciousness which confronts us, making itself felt in our milieu and environment, is only a stage, a continually new starting point of this movement, which passes into the infinite and unnamed ... And if we want to set a limit to this apparently empty horizon of consciousness, we would by that very fact have again transgressed this limit.20 Hence his notion of mystery: He whom we call God dwells in this nameless and pathless expanse of our consciousness. The mystery purely and simply that we call God is not a particular, especially peculiar, objective piece of reality which we add to the realities named and systematized in our experience and fit in with the latter; he is the encompassing, never encompassed ground and precondition of our experience and its objects. He is known in this strange experience of transcendence.21 Examples

Rahner emphasizes that the presence of the mystery traverses all human living: 'how this [infinite] reality silently extends itself, as it were, throughout the whole of existence, permeating everything, unifying everything, while remaining itself incomprehensible.'22 Hence, on the one hand, he is not inclined to draw attention to specific transcendent experiences, since they appear to stand out of the ordinary. On the other

Marechal, Rahner, and Lonergan 131 hand, a presence that is everywhere may end up being felt nowhere. Therefore Rahner concedes: 'Of course this kind of an experience also has its more prominent moments: in the experience of death, of radical authenticity, of love, and so on. There one notices more clearly than elsewhere that he reaches beyond this individual moment and comes into the presence of himself and of the holy mystery.'23 Occasionally, he tries to illustrate our openness to the divine by introducing such prominent moments: Have we ever kept quiet, even though we wanted to defend ourselves when we had been unfairly treated? Have we ever forgiven someone even though we got no thanks for it and our silent forgiveness was taken for granted? Have we ever obeyed, not because we had to and because otherwise things would have become unpleasant for us, but simply on account of that mysterious, silent, incomprehensible being we call God and his will? Have we ever sacrificed something without receiving any thanks or recognition for it, and even without a feeling of inner satisfaction? Have we ever been absolutely lonely? Have we ever decided on some course of action purely by the innermost judgement of our conscience, deep down where one can no longer tell or explain it to anyone, where one is quite alone and knows that one is taking a decision which no one else can take in one's place and for which one will have to answer for all eternity? Have we ever tried to love God when we are no longer being borne on the crest of the wave of enthusiastic feeling, when it is no longer possible to mistake our self, and its vital urges, for God? Have we ever tried to love Him when we thought we were dying of this love and when it seemed like death and absolute negation? Have we ever tried to love God when we seemed to be calling out into emptiness and our cry seemed to fall on deaf ears, when it looked as if we were taking a terrifying jump into the bottomless abyss, when everything seemed to become incomprehensible and apparently senseless? Have we ever fulfilled a duty when it seemed that it could be done only with a consuming sense of really betraying and obliterating oneself, when it could apparently be done only by doing something terribly stupid for which no one would thank us? Have we ever been good to someone who did not show the slightest sign of gratitude or comprehension and when we also were not rewarded by the feeling of having been 'selfless', decent, etc.?24 Readers may have noticed that such situations amount to losses rather than gains. As a matter of fact, in another article where he

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describes the same life-experiences, Rahner explains his preference for negative experiences. First, he grants that the reference to the Spirit 'can be implied by the positiveness of this categorial reality in which the greatness and glory, goodness, beauty, and transparency of the individual reality of our experience point with promise to eternal light and eternal life.' Then he adds: But it is also understandable without more ado that a pointer of this kind is perceived most clearly where the definable limits of our everyday realities break down and are dissolved, where the decline of these realities is perceived, when lights shining over the tiny island of our ordinary life are extinguished and the question becomes inescapable, whether the night that surrounds us is the void of absurdity and death that engulfs us or the blessed holy night already shining within us is the promise of eternal day.25 Most of the instances given by Rahner belong to the ethical type, as characterized in part one of this book. They are also indicative that the further stage of conversion has been achieved; thus they include a moral requirement that, in my opinion, not all transcendent experiences possess. It seems that for him experiences of the divine must be costly. Is this the Kantian conviction that noble deeds are always difficult, since they go against one's inclinations? Are human commitments better when they run counter to one's desires? Couched in the vocabulary of German existentialism, with its mood of anguish, guilt, and fear, his experiences of the mystery are usually intensely dramatic, like 'taking a terrifying jump into the bottomless abyss/ as we have just read. While I do not deny that these negative experiences are transcendent, I find regrettable that Rahner pays no more than lip service to those that are enjoyable. Amid his several listings of prominent episodes, however, we now and then notice a positive one. For example, he mentions 'the experience of surpassing joy'26 or 'when man suddenly makes the experience of personal love and encounter, suddenly notices, startled and blessed in this both at once, the fact that he has been accepted with a love which is absolute and unconditional.'27 Four Levels of Consciousness Bernard Lonergan (1904-84) is a Canadian philosopher-theologian who has studied human intentionality with an impressive thoroughness.

Marechal, Rahner, and Lonergan 133 From his works, I shall draw out and discuss concepts which are pertinent to the following questions. Can we reflect upon the consciousness that accompanies all our activities and states of mind, including the kind of consciousness that obtains in mysticism? What is the role of feeling in regard to ultimate value? In what sense is transcendent experience immediate, and in what sense is it also mediated? Should religious experience be identified with conversion?28 In an article on the typologies of mysticism, James Price argues that they all have the same defect: they envision mystical experience as an 'experience of,' as having an object or a content (for instance, the self, or God). The basis for classification is the 'doctrinal' language utilized in the descriptions that are examined. Price contends that this approach leads to an impasse. Those who have tried to classify them according to the way they are interpreted have spun out an intractably complex web. Therefore, following Lonergan, he points to another route, which starts with viewing religious experience as an activity of human consciousness. Instead of working with the doctrinal concepts, one begins with the operations of consciousness.29 Is Price's proposal more fruitful cross-culturally than the one he calls 'doctrinal'? This adjective may distract some readers from its intended meaning because it carries the connotation of a dogmatic commitment. The approach rightly dismissed by Price should instead be called 'themes-centred' since it focuses on symbols and ideas. I agree with Price that another method is required. As suggested in the chapter on Schleiermacher, concentrating on prereflective consciousness is the key to unravelling excessive conceptual complexity in discussions of transcendent experiences. When the centre of gravity is consciousness, we need some account of consciousness as a frame of reference. Lonergan helps us to move further away from the widespread perceptualist model of mysticism, by clarifying the nature of consciousness. Inspired by Husserl, his intentionality analysis distinguishes the data of a twofold awareness: the objects of one's operations, and the operations themselves. The human self who wants to know and interact with reality intends what is other than itself. In doing so, the inquiring subject is aware of both the intended objects and the several acts that constitute its intending. Difficult as it is to pinpoint, the intending is no less conscious than the intended, since people are conscious of their cognitive and affective operations. Intentionality analysis thematizes the intending, first by heightening the often dim consciousness that accompanies all human activities, second by seeking to understand the relations between these activities,

134 Part 2: Historic Contributions third by checking the adequacy of that understanding, and fourth by making a commitment regarding the value of human intentionality. Such are the four basic levels of human intentionality, uncovered in Insight and summarized in Method in Theology: attentiveness to the data, insights into them, judgments that insights are correct or not, and decisions to act in conformity with correct insights. The former work definitively affirms the first three levels in chapter 11 and the fourth is adumbrated in chapter 18, § 2.5, entitled 'The Decision.' Chapter 1 of the latter work compendiously presents all four levels. This fourfold scheme is relevant to our theoretical research concerning transcendent experiences. Many studies of mysticism suffer either from undifferentiation or inadequate differentiation. Undifferentiated language speaks globally about a single human faculty which would be the locus of a privileged encounter with God: the spirit, the soul, the heart, the imagination, or even the body. Under the influence of late medieval scholasticism, modern faculty psychology is differentiated, albeit inadequately so. It attempts to sort out and 'locate' the various human activities by referring them to the intellect, the will, the inner sensible faculties, and the senses. In contrast to those studies, Lonergan proposes an intentionality analysis that explores the data of consciousness - that is, the several degrees of consciousness that permeate our waking operations. In other words, consciousness becomes objectifiable in terms of inner data as soon as we take notice of our acts and ask questions about their interworkings. By identifying our operations in their respective specificity and situating them in their interrelationships, Insight is a masterly guidebook for the systematic pursuit of self-knowledge. The operations are differentiated according to four, radically different, levels: experience, understanding, judgment, and decision. The first level consists in spontaneous sensory receptivity, furthered by imagination and memory. The second is characterized by a specific type of question, the question for understanding, voiced as, What is it? Why? How? The third is characterized by another type of question, the question for truth, voiced as, Is it so? The fourth appears every time there emerges an exigence for selfconsistency between one's knowledge of value and one's respect for it.30 This fourfold structure of human intentionality goes back to Aristotle and Thomas Aquinas, although their formulations are less clear than Lonergan's. We must give credit to the latter for having presented their achievements in Verbum and for having verified the fourfold structure, from the moving viewpoint of the self-appropriating subject, in Insight.

Marechal, Rahner, and Lonergan 135 The fourth component of that structure is further explored in Method in Theology (MT), in ways that Terry Tekippe and I have criticized.31 Irrespective of objections raised against certain details of Lonergan's analysis, the fact remains that this structure is transcendental, universal, and cross-cultural, because any attempt to question it must implement the very structure it questions by observing, understanding, assessing, and valuing the functioning of human intentionality. Thanks to intentionality analysis, we can discern in our operations a twofold openness to the infinite. First, a cognitive one, as we raise ultimate questions about the universe and the human race; and second, an affective one, as we cannot but adhere to an absolute value (however conceived or misconceived: Meaning, Truth, Goodness, Love, Success, Self-Realization, Humankind, the Cosmos, God, and so on). This dual intentionality reveals the unrestricted character of human desire in its cognitive and affective sides.32 As such, consciousness is still unknown. It begins to be known only when we advert to the openendedness of our questions and wishes. Only when we raise questions about those questions and wishes can our conscious intentionality become reflected.33 Before closing this section, let us hark back to the typology of transcendent experiences introduced in chapter 1. Although it was elaborated with no conscious intention of matching Lonergan's fourfold schema, I now realize that it may have been influenced by this schema.34 Readers recall that each type is specified by a concern or a question, present in the preparation or the occasion (or in both), of which concern the individual is more or less aware. With respect to Lonergan's four levels of conscious intentionality, I would submit that my first type belongs to the level of sensory experience, since the key factor that operates regards one's place in the physical universe. The second type belongs to the level of meaning, since the key factor regards the intelligibility of one's existence. The third type belongs to the level of truth, since the key factor regards the objectivity of lived values. The fourth type belongs to the level of existential decision, since the key factor regards the grounding of love in a mysterious presence. Feeling Let us now concentrate on Lonergan's account of feeling in the human pursuit of values, including ultimate value. Lonergan borrows from Dietrich von Hildebrand the distinction between non-intentional states

136 Part 2: Historic Contributions and trends, and intentional responses (MT, 30-1 ).35 Instances of the states and trends are fatigue, irritability, bad humour, anxiety, hunger, thirst, and sexual discomfort. By contrast, responses are said to be intentional, in the sense that they respond to objects that are intended. They are feelings which belong in the world mediated by meaning: desires and fears, hope and despair, joys and sorrows, and so forth. However, while this distinction is helpful, Lonergan may have drawn unwarranted implications from it. Historians of ideas tell us that in modern philosophy three views of feeling have been adopted.36 Disregarding nuances, we can picture them as follows. The first view, held by Descartes, Locke, Leibniz, and Spinoza, reduces feeling to the lower, confused, and preconceptual apprehension of a reality that can be adequately grasped only in a higher form of knowledge, the rational, which consists in clear and distinct ideas. The second view, entertained by Malebranche, Hume, Kant, and many positivists, drives a wedge between feeling and knowledge. In this account, feeling is an emotive, non-cognitive mode of consciousness, which does not afford us any objective knowledge but is instead connected to internal, physiological change. The third view is Pascal's: According to him, the heart intuits everything significant in human life in a way that crippled reason cannot: 'the heart has reasons which reason does not know.' In Method in Theology, Lonergan adopts the third view, recast somewhat in the phenomenological context of Scheler and von Hildebrand. His version scarcely differs from James's and Otto's, which were discussed in previous chapters. Like them, he states that feeling conveys a kind of knowledge and he also extols feeling by granting it precedence over ordinary (presumably reasoned) knowledge. It is noteworthy that in doing so Lonergan is unfaithful to von Hildebrand, who always assumes the priority of knowing over feeling and willing.37 Von Hildebrand's account exhibits a wide range of human activities: a prior cognitive act (the perception of the value of an object), subsequent feelings (being affected by the object), and a final affective response.38 By contrast, Lonergan puts too much stock upon an 'intentional feeling,' which directly apprehends value. This allegedly constitutes the first component of the fourth level of intentionality: apprehension of value in feeling. Lonergan's version remains too compact. Not only is it less differentiated than von Hildebrand's but it partakes of the latter's moral intuitionism, which comes from Scheler and is typical of the epistemological

Marechal, Rahner, and Lonergan 137 shortcomings of much of phenomenology. The idea that value is immediately given in feeling shares in the counterposition according to which the real is directly reached in experience.39 The position that I take underlines the interplay between feeling and knowing. Feeling is neither cognitive nor totally separated from knowing. Since the feeling or state of love does not directly give rise to knowing, there is no such thing as an intuitive knowledge born of unrestricted love (which Lonergan calls 'faith' in MT, 115-16). However, feeling interacts with knowing, by stimulating or hindering it, and by being stimulated or hindered by it. Although feeling is not a source of knowledge, it exercises the paramount function of drawing attention to the actual presence of values. This seems to be the aspect of truth in what Lonergan writes about knowledge derived from love: knowledge is considerably facilitated by the concomitant presence of feelings, especially affective states which are lasting emotional conditions.40 As far as transcendent experiences are concerned, we may find precious light in Lonergan's position that feelings make us respond to values. Among such feelings, those which appear in transcendent experiences heighten the discovery that one is in contact with something unqualifiedly worthwhile, with an absolute value. By their concomitance with the intellectual realization that one is open to the infinite, feelings accentuate the significance of the experience and stimulate the person into responding. Without them, the experience could not be vivid and fascinating. Immediacy and Mediation Lonergan distinguishes three modes of presence to our surroundings and ourselves: immediacy, mediation, and mediated immediacy. The first immediacy is characteristic of infants, who are in direct contact with the environment through their senses while still incapable of thinking (MT, 76). Mediation, however, commences to be operative as soon as the child begins to talk. In contrast to the animal, which lives in a mere habitat, the child enters into a world mediated by meanings expressed in images, words, and symbols, which convey answers to questions (28). Finally, the second immediacy is a 'mediated immediacy' (29), because it presupposes some cognitive context while not belonging in the world constructed by meaningful acts.41 As chapter 1 stated and as chapter 10 reiterates, some interpretative framework moulds an experience which is nevertheless itself immediate in the

138 Part 2: Historic Contributions sense that its cognitive content tends towards what Schleiermacher calls the Nullpunkt, the zero point, that was identified in chapter 4. This mediated immediacy of the adult is highly diversified. A first kind of mediated immediacy stands in close connection with the data of sense. Thus the presence to one's body and physical surrounding, for example in walking, swimming, lying in bed, or on the beach, is mediate because it follows upon the (quick or protracted) mental process whereby one reaches the decision to engage in such activities or states; but it is immediate to the extent that one hardly thinks when one enjoys exercise or relaxation. 'Operations are said to be immediate when their objects are present. So seeing is immediate to what is being seen, hearing to what is being heard, touch to what is being touched' (28). Similarly interpersonal presence like the mating of lovers (77) would not take place without a prior living context of attraction, sharing, and consent; but it requires very few words, images, or ideas, since it coincides with a return to bodily and perceptual immediacy. As the section of Insight on patterns of experience indicates (204-12), human beings who do not suffer from serious neurological defects are never totally immersed in the biological pattern of experience. No doubt they can enjoy the physical presence of the environment but this sensory activity is taken up into another pattern of experience, such as the aesthetic, the intellectual, or the dramatic. Among those, the aesthetic is the closest to the biological. Although it entails a liberation from sensory needs, its inventiveness and its playfulness are expressed in sensible carriers (such as bodily movements, sounds, sights, images, and words). Accordingly, perceptual immediacy can be more or less direct, depending on how simple or complex its expression is. A second kind of mediated immediacy is grounded, not on the data of sense, but on the data of consciousness. Thus consciousness accompanies all our operations. It is mediated in the measure that it is already shaped by language; at the same time it is also immediate, because it is directly given to us in the awareness we have of our own acts. Similarly, albeit with a difference to be spelled out shortly, the prayerfulness of the mystic (Schleiermacher's 'piety') derives its significance from previously established beliefs, insights, and decisions, while it amounts to a withdrawal from reflection and deliberation in order to move into a 'cloud of unknowing' (MT, 77,111,266,342). Reflection on the consciousness that accompanies our human acts is the key to the exploration of this inner-directed kind of mediated immediacy. What we find here are two dimensions of interiority. Lonergan calls the first, 'interiority' or 'other interiority' (266), to distinguish it

Marechal, Rahner, and Lonergan 139 from 'religious interiority' (290) (usually called 'transcendence' or 'religion'). Religious interiority is a furtherance of the 'other interiority' (the consciousness that accompanies all our acts and states), thanks to a realization that human consciousness does access transcendence. For Lonergan, the unmediated immediacy - experienced by infants does not provide an adequate model of knowledge and reality, since it is sensory. What humans encounter in direct contact is not the fully real, because it has not yet been questioned and verified. Sense data are only one step in the process leading to objectivity. Reality can be accessed solely through sets of operations made of experiences, memories, questions, insights, and judgments. Such operations are the constituents of mediated immediacy. When objectified, they offer us an adequate model of the way we reach out to reality. Then it becomes clear that the world mediated by meaning is not the 'already, out, there, now, real.' It is easy to commit the blunder of imagining the religious realm as an object experienced in another kind of contact or perception, as an 'already, in, here, now, real.' To escape this error, one must extirpate the tenacious myth that an infantile presence to the environment is our best link to reality. Nothing less than an intellectual conversion is required if one is to uncover that illusion and proceed to another account of human knowledge (238-40 and 262-3). Although Lonergan does not explicitly say so, all he writes about mediated immediacy suggests an enormous difference between the union that takes shape among humans and the one that characterizes the mystic and the divine. The first kind of union - the fellow-feeling found in sex, sports, music, and other sorts of social activities - is embodied in sensory perception and movement while expressing meaning and value. Therefore, it is a return to the first immediacy, typical of children, and, because this kind of union is also experienced by adults, it is mediated by meaning and value. In contradistinction, the mystical union, though prepared by perception, meaning, and value, nevertheless transcends these activities by negating their limits and heading towards what is infinite in meaning and value. In other words, interhuman union is mediation going back to the first immediacy, whereas mystical union is mediation going beyond itself and entering a second immediacy. Religious Experience and Conversion Lonergan entertains a concept of religious experience which is at once broader and more restrictive than our concept of transcendent experi-

140 Part 2: Historic Contributions ence. It is broader because he does not make a distinction between religious experience and religious conversion. The reason for the lack of that distinction may well be theological: it seems to come from the fact that he equates religious experience with what Thomas Aquinas calls habitual grace. Transferring the metaphysical concept of habitual grace to the language of intentionality analysis, he talks of a permanent state, which requires human consent and some kind of permanence. In contrast, this book has clearly marked off transcendent experience from conversion; it has focused on transcendent experience and considered conversion only as its sixth and last element, that is, as the most desirable culmination of transcendent experience. From another vantage point, Lonergan's understanding of religious experience is more restrictive than ours. It encompasses only our third and fourth types of transcendent experience, in the sense that the attraction towards a value or a person is of an affective nature. Love is not intrinsically associated with the first and second types - the aesthetic and the ontological. However, if we equate transcendent experience with Aquinas's actual grace, which is transient, we can include all four types and see them as mere summons, regardless of whether the person responds or not. Transcendent experience is an event, not a permanent state, and hence an instance of actual grace which can be given either before or after the abiding response called conversion. Summary Marechal, Rahner, and Lonergan offer us significant probes into the human spirit. Their writings intellectually ground the infinitude of the person in its openness to the transcendent. These authors are both critical and realist: to a degree they have been nudged by Kant's critique of reason and yet they stress the realism of the act of judgment in a way that Kant would have rejected but that Hegel would have approved. They perfect the transcendental approach by accentuating the validity of our awareness of the infinite more than that admitted by Kant, post-Kantians such as Schleiermacher and Otto, or the pragmatist, James. However, they part company with Hegel as soon as he ventures into a speculative attempt at grasping the divine. While Marechal has restricted his endeavour to plumbing the intellectual side of intentionality, Rahner and Lonergan have said much more about the affective side. They do not remain content with investigating the rational aspect. Rahner speaks not only of knowledge but

Marechal, Rahner, and Lonergan 141 also freedom: he sees a relationship with God in our basic decisions. Lonergan speaks not only of insight and judgment but also feeling: he sees love as initiating religious experience. More than Marechal, Rahner modifies the Kantian understanding of the transcendental. In his hands, the transcendental - or the a priori undergoes a profound transformation: it becomes an unthematic outreach towards the mystery. Of this outreach we have a consciousness that is distinct from its subsequent thematic awareness. For his part, Lonergan provides a more differentiated account of consciousness and intentionality, and of immediacy and mediation, than any of the authors whose views have been introduced in part 2 of the current study. His thought as well as reflections from several others will be called upon in part 3, as we undertake to untangle the set of intricate philosophical issues that have been left unresolved in our ongoing dialogue with great modern thinkers.

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PART 3 The Validity of Transcendent Experiences

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Chapter 9

Basic Concepts I

Let us briefly retrace our steps. In part 1, phenomenology was utilized to break down transcendent experience into elements and types. In part 2, an historical approach was taken by way of which classic understandings of the human preoccupation with the mystery were discussed and appraised. Moving beyond phenomenology, which has given us a description of the recurrent features of transcendent experience, and taking advantage of the historic contributions made by Kant and other authors, part 3 will search out the fundamental principles involved in the accounts we have examined.1 Another philosophical strategy - different from the phenomenological and the historical - will be adopted to elucidate the conceptuality at work in phenomenology and the history of ideas. This method has been called a transcendental reduction (Husserl), an ontological analytic of the Dasein (Heidegger), an ontological discourse (Ricoeur), or an intentionality analysis (Lonergan). Such differing versions, however, will not detain us but I offer my own synthesis in these last two chapters. Since the beginning of our enquiry, a question has pressed itself upon our attention: can there be an experience of the infinite? In order to answer this fundamental question, we will stand back from the details of the historical investigations carried out so far and focus on the most important insights obtained as we examined the thought of several philosophers on the infinite. The time has come for us to explicate the signification of the basic concepts that are needed for a fruitful understanding of transcendent experience. Let us therefore spell out the relevant shades of meaning that we find in terms such as experience, transcendence, the infinite, feeling, interpretation, and mediation. We will tackle the first three of those terms in this chapter and the last three in the next.

146 Part 3: The Validity of Transcendent Experiences Experience Experience is a weasel word. At the outset of a book on this theme, Michael J. Oakeshott avers: '"Experience," of all the words in the philosophic vocabulary, is the most difficult to manage; and it must be the ambition of every writer reckless enough to use the word to escape the ambiguities it contains.'2 It would be pointless to canvass here all the meanings that 'experience' can assume. Let us simply start by discarding two of those meanings, which are not useful for our purposes despite being obviously legitimate in other contexts. First, in this book on transcendent experience, 'experience' has not referred to the practical wisdom, the knowhow, or the expertise that an individual may possess after years of engagement in a particular field of work. Second, 'experience' does not correspond to the part of knowledge that rests on sense data and precedes the next stages where hypotheses are framed, tested, and refined. Transcendent experience is an event (usually datable), a significant episode which is shorter than, and a part of, a more lengthy process. As indicated in chapter 1, the first element - the preparation - constitutes the initial step within the overall process; the second element - the occasion - signals the beginning of the particular experience in which a feeling - the third element - suddenly responds to the occasion; the discovery - our fourth element - takes place at the same time as the feeling; and finally the fifth and sixth elements - the interpretation and the fruit - issue from the discovery. As an ongoing movement, then, the transcendent experience amounts to this prolonged slice of human existence. But as a noteworthy episode, it consists of the second, third, and fourth elements, without strictly speaking including its antecedent preparation and its subsequent interpretation and fruit. In such a setting, we do not speak of experience in either of the two meanings (practical knowledge and sense data) that have been excluded in our previous paragraph. Rather, we speak of an experience, that is, of a single occurrence. When someone exclaims, 'That was an experience!' we understand that an unusually moving, powerful, and memorable event occurred in this person's life. In a note entitled 'On the History of the Word Erlebnis,' Hans-Georg Gadamer tells us that, as Georg Simmel pointed out, 'every experience has something of an adventure about it.' Gadamer explains:

Basic Concepts I 147 An adventure is by no means just an episode. Episodes are a succession of details which have no inner coherence and for that very reason have no permanent significance. An adventure, however, interrupts the customary course of events, but is positively and significantly related to the context which it interrupts. Thus an adventure lets life be felt as a whole, in its breadth and in its strength. Here lies the fascination of an adventure. It removes the conditions and obligations of everyday life. It ventures out into the uncertain.3 The German language has two words for experience: Erlebnis and Erfahrung. From Gadamer's note, we learn that the noun, Erlebnis, became common only in the 1870s. It derives from the verb, erleben, which is older and which has a special resonance associated with the verb leben, 'to live.' According to Gadamer, then, erleben means primarily 'to be still alive when something happens.' 'Thus the word suggests the immediacy with which something real is grasped - unlike something which one presumes to know but which is unattested by one's own experience, whether because it is taken over from others or comes from hearsay, or whether it is inferred, surmised, or imagined. What is experienced is always what one has experienced oneself.' After this, Gadamer looks at the participle, das Erlebte, 'the experienced,' which points to its permanent content. Then he states that these two meanings - erleben and das Erlebte - lie behind the coinage of Erlebnis: both the immediacy of the personal episode and 'its discovered yield, its lasting result/ its weight and significance.4 These two well-knit meanings are embedded in autobiographical and biographical literature, wherein concrete situations are given artistic expressions that have a universal import. Furthermore, Gadamer suggests that such events and discoveries have a religious dimension. The work of art highlights their relation to the whole of one's existence. 'In the experience of art is present a fullness of meaning that belongs not only to this particular content or object but rather stands for the meaningful whole of life. An aesthetic Erlebnis always contains the experience of an infinite whole. Precisely because it does not combine with other experiences to make one open experiential flow, but immediately represents the whole, its significance is infinite.'5 In the same book, Truth and Method, the author has another section, devoted to the second German word for experience: Erfahrung. The passage bears the title: 'The Concept of Experience (Erfahrung) and the

148 Part 3: The Validity of Transcendent Experiences

Essence of the Hermeneutical Experience' (346-62). Here 'experience' means something common to several observers, something that, because it is repeatable, can be confirmed and become scientific. In the analogical use of the word, Erfahrung, however, we find a sense which appears of direct interest for our purposes, namely, Aeschylus's 'learning through suffering' (pathei mathos). Gadamer comments: What a man has to learn through suffering is not this or that particular thing, but insight into the limitations of humanity, into the absoluteness of the barrier that separates man from the divine. It is ultimately a religious insight - the kind of insight that gave birth to Greek tragedy. Thus experience is experience of human finitude.6 As we see, Gadamer recognizes the religious character and the transcending potential of the human situations to which both Erlebnis and Erfahrung refer.

Gadamer observes that 'we do not yet find the word Erlebnis in Schleiermacher, and apparently not even the verb erleben. But there is no lack of synonyms that cover the range of meaning of Erlebnis.'7 The synonyms that Gadamer finds (such as Moment, 'initial element/ Regung, 'feeling,' Erregung, 'excitement') are more typical, in my opinion, of the early Schleiermacher. Those synonyms show that he definitely had the idea of religious experience as an event. This idea is embodied in the word Erfahrung, which he occasionally employs both in his Speeches and in The Christian Faith.8 However, he stresses something abiding, and that aspect is conveyed by his preferred phrase, 'the feeling of absolute dependence.' In our next chapter, we will return to his distinction between feeling and emotion, which accounts for both the permanent and the episodic character of religious experience. The Schleiermacherian scholar, Wilhelm Dilthey, prefers Erlebnis, and William James follows suit: 'By an experience, I mean what the Germans call an Erlebniss [sic] - any thing that can be regarded as a concrete and integral moment in a conscious life. The word is exactly equivalent to the word "phenomenon." A phenomenon implies both something that appears, and someone to whom it appears; and an experience implies both an experiencer and what he experiences.'9 Rudolf Otto, who highlights the numinous, rarely speaks of Erlebnis and Erfahrung. Yet in one passage of Das Heilige (43) he equates both terms - which suggests that he regards them as having equivalent senses. From his as well as from Gadamer's usage and the practice of

Basic Concepts I 149 contemporary German authors who write on religious experience,10 we can infer that although they suggest different connotations, for the most part the two words are synonyms. In both we notice an affective and a cognitive dimension. Thus the Langenscheidt German-English dictionary renders erleben by 'to experience, have, go through, live to see, know from experience'; it renders erfahren by 'to hear, be told, find out, experience, suffer.' Edward Quinn, a translator of Rahner, interestingly points out: 'the German word for experience - Erfahrung - originally meant "to travel through.'"11 Andre Godin goes too far when he opposes the two words and asserts that Erlebnis would be 'experience-emotion-subie' (passive-emotion-experience) whereas Erfahrung would be 'experience-synthese-active' (active-reaction-experience).12 This is part of his Barthian attempt to show what he thinks is the superiority of Christian faith - taken to be Erfahrung - over religion - taken to be Erlebnis. His total depreciation of the latter flies in the face of the evidence that we have garnered from Gadamer and others. However, it is a fact that Erlebnis, translatable as 'lived experience,' draws attention to the component of awareness in experience, in addition to the content of what is experienced. If we see Erlebnis and Erfahrung as complementary, Godin's French rendering may help us note the presence, in religious experience, of two aspects often mentioned by spiritual writers: the element of receptivity (often called passivity) and the element of activity. Experience is both undergoing and response. I would say that, among the six elements introduced in chapter 1 and illustrated in chapter 2, the preparation is a mix of receptivity and activity on the part of the person; the occasion, the feeling, and the discovery are a matter of receptivity; and the interpretation and the fruit depend on one's active response. If I have taken the time to expound what some German authors write about several shades of meaning conveyed by Erlebnis and Erfahrung, my intention has been to suggest a rich array of connotations that the single English word experience does not exhibit so fully. To sum up: a transcendent experience is an experience of depth, a significant episode that sheds light upon the whole of a person's or a group's life. Critics of transcendent experiences have objected to the suggestion that people could get in touch with God in particular episodes. They contend that if one is to find God, it must only be in daily life, that is, in every event, not in isolatable impressions of infinity. There is no privileged realm where humans would be in direct rapport with God, to the exclusion of the other domains of human existence. Such criticisms are

150 Part 3: The Validity of Transcendent Experiences rightly levelled against the tendency, inaugurated by William James and continued by his disciples, of detecting a divine impact in peculiar, exceptionally - and perhaps abnormally - vivid happenings, sometimes even triggered off by drugs. A person can be unduly fascinated with singular emotions and vainly try to go back to the situations in which one enjoyed such 'kicks.' This return to one's past in order to relive it is a neurotic repetition of the same, with dwindling results. In chapter 1, transcendent experiences were distinguished from praeternatural or parapsychical ones. At the end of the chapter on James, I stated that exceptional experiences do not have a value higher than ordinary religious ideas or sentiments. But if transcendent experiences are transient and do not constitute the stuff of day-to-day spiritual life, why pay special attention to them? As I contended at the end of chapter 6, such occurrences are worth fathoming because they have a revelatory capacity. It is true that the divine can be found everywhere but if people do not find it in particular, pregnant episodes, they are likely to find it nowhere. A diffuse and pervading awareness of the mystery must be brought to focused awareness on specific occasions called temps forts in French. I shall return to this thesis in chapter 10, when the role of feeling is discussed. The issue under discussion may profit from a clarification of vocabulary. Transcendent experiences differ from more common ideas or sentiments which sustain believers along their spiritual journey. Valuable though they are, such usual religious ideas or sentiments do not include a sense of the infinite. By contrast, transcendent experiences, which make us notice the presence of the absolute mystery, do relate us to the 'extraordinary' as such. This is not to imply that they would not usually take place in 'ordinary' circumstances, that is, in the normal round of human activities. Only rarely do we find an overwhelming happening that amounts to a dazzling revelation or that leads to a drastic conversion. The aim of this book is not to exalt the extraordinary at the expense of the ordinary but to enrich the ordinary by showing that the extraordinary inheres within it.13 In a study to which I have referred approvingly more than once (in the chapters on Schleiermacher and James), Nicholas Lash puts forward a thesis that is encapsulated in its title, Easter in Ordinary. He asserts that the central mystery of Christianity - Easter - is lived out in Ordinary, in 'responsibility acknowledged, or suffering endured' and not in special experiences that 'have the character of aesthetic satisfac-

Basic Concepts I 151 tion or heightened feeling.'14 However, Professor Lash seems to recognize the role of transcendent experiences: 'Nevertheless, there are, according to Rahner, circumstances in which the invitation which basic experience brings, the simultaneous threat and promise which it represents, may be brought home to us in a more or less peremptory manner.'15 As Lash explains, this basic experience is a matter of surrendering and conversion. Along with Rahner and Lonergan, he does not distinguish transcendent experience and conversion. In contradistinction to this, I have proposed, in my introduction, to differentiate these two stages. More precisely, I have identified conversion, or transformation, with the sixth element of transcendent experience, which I have dubbed 'the fruit.' By avowing that in point of fact there are episodes wherein the sense of the unbounded does not bring about any fruit, I took the risk of being faulted for lumping together, under the umbrella of transcendent experience, a great many cases that are superficial since they do not end up in personal transformation. Yet I maintain that, for the sake of phenomenological comprehensiveness and differentiation, we must integrate all narratives which bear witness to an apprehension of the infinite through feeling. Any such apprehension carries a summons which may be either heeded or ignored by the experiencers. Intentionality and Transcendence In what sense can a human experience be called transcendent? The etymology of the term 'transcendence' suggests that it may be a shorter version of a more original 'trans-ascendence.'16 'Ascending' means moving upward, while 'trans' means both 'through' and 'beyond.' I shall speak equivalently of transcendence, self-transcendence, and transcending, and characterize this phenomenon as a movement through hum'an acts - to be specified shortly - and beyond them. As will be explained in the third section of the next chapter, transcending is mediated by human acts while putting us in direct contact with a 'beyond.' Animals relate to other beings but they do not transcend themselves, since they are confined to their habitat. Only persons are capable of selftranscendence. To transcend oneself involves more than animal perception and response to felt needs. People begin to transcend themselves when they ask questions concerning the 'what,' 'why/ and 'how' of the perceived. Such questions stimulate them to enquire about the way things are interconnected and make sense. Further questions are also

152 Part 3: The Validity of Transcendent Experiences raised, such as 'Is it so?' and 'Is this worthwhile?' with regard to the factuality and the worth of what has been previously grasped as intelligible. Humans are concerned not only with meaning but also with truth and value. Answers to those questions are cases of selftranscending, because the intention that propels this questioning is to state a meaning, truth, or value which in the end achieves objectivity, independently of the needs, the impressions, or the wishes of the questioner. Feelings accompany intentionality, which is directed towards reality as it is. Like ideas, feelings may be either subjective or objective. At their best, they assist the human mind in its efforts at finding true and valid meaning. Both questions and feelings take us out of ourselves so that we intend, acknowledge, respect, and promote reality with its actual traits. The next chapter will continue the discussion on the role of feelings. So far our intentional impulse has been characterized as selftranscending, after the fashion of Lonergan, who latches onto questions as the most telling indicators. To review the full canvass, the reader may refer back to the last sections of chapter 8.1 hope that in that chapter as well as in this one, the impression has not been given that Lonergan and the author of this book are engaging in a kind of foundationalism a la Descartes. The foundations that we want to uncover are not static; they are operative in our intellectual and affective acts. Far from being the results of the logical authority of a self-centred cogito, whose certainty would in turn derive from God, the foundations of transcendence are performatively exhibited in the ordinary workings of human intentionality. Let us now turn to Martin Heidegger for a brief treatment of the relations between transcendence and intentionality.17 After quoting Scheler to the effect that human acts are experienced in their performance, he defines the person as a performer of intentional acts.18 In this context he argues against the modern habit of subjectivizing intentionality and asking the wrong question: how does the inner intentional experience arrive at an outside? Instead he sees intentionality as performatively transcending itself. In such a process, transcendence appears as more basic than thematization or objectification, which it underpins. 'If the thematizing of the present-at-hand - the scientific projection of Nature - is to become possible, Dasein must transcend the entities thematized. Transcendence does not consist in Objectifying, but is presupposed by it.'19

Basic Concepts I 153 Like Lonergan, Heidegger does not concentrate on the entities thematized but begins with intentional acts consciously performed, which he calls the intentional comportments. These are the phenomena as they offer themselves. The ontological analysis of the Dasein must start with them, not with the epistemological problem as construed by Descartes and Kant. The intertwining of intentionality and transcendence is explained as follows: Tntentionality is the ratio cognoscendi of transcendence. Transcendence is the ratio essendi of intentionality in its diverse modes.'20 In other words, intentionality is that by which we come to know transcendence, while transcendence is the ontological grounding of intentionality. The priority bestowed on transcendence accords with Heidegger's thesis regarding the primacy of being over the knowing subject. 'Transcendence, being-in-the-world, is never to be equated and identified with intentionality.'21 He explains: 'The problem of transcendence as such is not at all identical with the problem of intentionality. As ontic transcendence, the latter is itself only possible on the basis of original transcendence, on the basis of being-in-the-world. This primal transcendence makes possible every intentional relation to beings.'22 For Heidegger, transcendence has nothing subjectivistic or individualistic about it. As he contends elsewhere, we spontaneously perceive things, not sensations. An encounter with a work of art is an objectively true event, not a merely subjective experience.23 In fact, transcendence characterizes the Dasein's being-in-the-world. 'Transcendere means to step over; the transcendens, the transcendent, is that which oversteps as such and not that toward which I step over. The world is transcendent because, belonging to the structure of being-in-the-world, it constitutes stepping-over ... as such. The Dasein itself oversteps in its being and thus is exactly not the immanent.' And again: 'Because the Dasein is constituted by being-in-the-world, it is a being which in its being is out beyond itself. The epekeina belongs to the Dasein's own most peculiar structure of being.'24 Far from being immanentist or self-enclosed, the Dasein continually oversteps. 'The selfhood of that self that already lies at the grounds of all spontaneity, however, lies in transcendence.'25 Its transcendence is embed-

ded in temporality. The dimension of the future is particularly important. Heidegger speaks of an 'ecstasis' and correspondingly of a 'whereto,' a 'whither/ a 'horizon.'26 Moreover, the 'surpassing' of human transcendence culminates in freedom.27 With Heidegger, we ponder the fact that the Dasein transcends itself:

154 Part 3: The Validity of Transcendent Experiences it naturally surpasses itself by passing over into something else, with which it partakes of being. Such phenomena take place in interpersonal relationships (Mitsein), in art, in thinking, or in social and political activities. Yet, central though it is, this fundamental process amounts to a this-worldly transcendence. Heidegger states: 'We name world that toward which Dasein as such transcends, and shall now determine transcendence as being-in-the-world.'28 Of course the world where we dwell is more than the entirety of natural things, since it is constitutive of every human self's relation to being in its totality. Yet for Heidegger this totality is finite. As Richardson points out, the project of Total Meaningfulness is a finite world.29 The question must be posed: is it possible for the Dasein to be transcending without heading for a transcendent that is ontologically more than the world? Must self-transcendence have a source and a term, a 'behind' and a 'beyond/ what Schleiermacher calls a 'whence' and what Heidegger calls a 'whither'? 30 This sense of a 'whence' and a 'whither' is encapsulated in the transcendent experiences with which this book has been dealing. Those who undergo such experiences often express the feeling of ontological security which derives from the fact of being connected with their origin or their destination. Much attention has been granted so far to the general process of transcending oneself because it is the very openendedness of this process that makes particular transcendent experiences possible. No one could have such an experience, were it not for the 'this-worldly' transcending that we have described at length. Yet the latter involves an 'other-worldly' transcending as well, since it suggests more than an endless progression. As is explained in the next section, our infinitude entails not only an indefinite but also an infinite. Whenever a transcendent experience is perceived as supremely good and consented to unconditionally, the person has a feeling of fulfilment. It is difficult to imagine that finite realities could vouchsafe such a state of mind, since an assertion about absolute value is entailed by the feeling itself. Nor could the mere process of transcendence as understood by Heidegger justify this state of mind and the metaphysical statement that backs it. If the only reality experienced is confined to the process of transcendence, Sartre is right in declaring that Thomme est une passion inutile.'31 But this useless passion is the very antipode of human fulfilment. The refusal on the part of many thinkers to talk of a transcendent may have to do with the difficulty of not construing it as an object.

Basic Concepts I 155 Indeed, if there is a transcendent, it does not consist in an object in the Kantian sense of something moulded by space and time, and defined by a concept. Any object in this sense inevitably remains finite and hence falls short of being transcendent. Far from being objectified, the transcendent that could be envisaged would be fundamentally unarticulated by the human mind. As distinguished from a problem, the transcendent appears as a mystery. In the words of the French existentialist, Gabriel Marcel: 'A problem is something which I meet, which I find complete before me, but which I can therefore lay siege to and reduce. But a mystery is something in which I am myself involved, and it can therefore only be thought of as a sphere where the distinction between what is in me and what is before me loses its meaning and its initial

validity.'32 Definitions and logical techniques apply best to the resolution of problems. However, reason should not be ruled out of meaningful discourse about mystery; yet logic must be complemented by another form of consciousness, a more participative one, which has to do with the short cuts taken by the heart. Whereas reason is most useful in disentangling various aspects of an issue, the heart goes straight to its goal - the supreme good - in transcendent experience.33 This phenomenon will be unpacked in our next chapter. Throughout this study, I have tried to avoid the word 'God' so as not to suggest any reference to an object in the Kantian sense. I talked rather of the mystery, the infinite, or the divine. With respect to the latter designation, Gadamer remarks that the Greeks preferred to use the neuter gender, to theion, instead of the masculine, o theos. Pointing to transcendent experience, he expounds the import of to theion: This expression signifies a fundamental human experience connected in an indefinite manner with the presence of something surpassing through its power the expectations of our daily life ... In the neuter, found in' Greek as well as in German, one hears something peculiar, as much mysterious as ungraspable. Accordingly 'the divine' is not a definite thing of a certain kind ... As something that pervades and determines everything, without being itself determinate, it is in accord with the mood-power of the lyrical.34 The same can be said of Otto's 'the holy' or 'the numinous.' Keeping in mind those reservations about any object-language, I would nevertheless submit that the transcendent could be an object in the sense of an objective, as Lonergan writes.35 Then it would be the

156 Part 3: The Validity of Transcendent Experiences objective or goal of human intentionality in quest of full meaning, truth, and value. Again, it would be something real, a referent, in contrast to a mere object of thought or wish, to an inert perfection, to an ideal entertained by the striving subject. On the other hand, the transcendent would not amount to something hypostatized (the permanent presence at hand to which Heidegger rightly objected), projected into another (sometimes called spiritual) space, over against our universe. If we are willing to go beyond these caricatures, we could mean by the transcendent: that which absolutely surpasses the universe of finite beings, not in terms of size or power, but in terms of meaningfulness, truth, and worth - in a word, in terms of being. As far as vocabulary is concerned, it is important to distinguish the transcendent from the transcendental. The transcendent differs from the medieval transcendentals - being, one, something, good, or true which transcend categories but characterize finite beings in the first place. The transcendent also differs from Kant's transcendental knowledge, defined as 'all knowledge which is occupied not so much with objects as with the mode of our knowledge of objects in so far as this mode of knowledge is to be possible a priori.'36 In this latter sense, the transcendental overlaps with the process of self-transcendence. As I showed in my presentation of Lonergan, the transcendental is the crosscultural intentional structure that makes self-transcendence possible. Being this-worldly, both human transcendence and the transcendental account of it are definitely not the other-wordly transcendent. All the same, in these pages I have taken the step of shifting from human transcendence to the transcendent. At this stage, my case for the existence of the transcendent rests on the fact of a meaningful relation between self-transcendence and the transcendent. The existence of the transcendent is congruent with the 'towardness' or 'directedness' of human activities and the fulfilment achieved in transcendent experience. But we have yet to delineate the intellectual psychology implicit in the human orientation to the infinite. Indefiniteness and the Infinite This section investigates what happens, epistemologically speaking, when someone stretches beyond limits. Drawing from Kant and Hegel, we have already distinguished this experience of the indefinite from the infinite itself, to which we shall return later in this chapter. The

Basic Concepts I 157 simplest experience that we do get is the twofold realization that our visual field is contained within bounds and that we can nevertheless imagine some space beyond those bounds. Far from being fixed, our horizon recedes as we advance, and there is always some territory beyond the points we reach. More basically scientists are struck by the fact that space and time are indefinitely extensible. The sense of the indefinite is also present in comparisons. Very early in our lives we become acquainted with the obvious fact that things are bigger or smaller than others. When we want to be more precise, we measure out, with the help of rods, tapes, scales, or more sophisticated, electronic instruments. We are familiar not only with arithmetic calculations but also with geometric progressions. Furthermore, even the standards by which we measure differ in size and can be multiplied, e.g., centimetres, metres, kilometres, etc. Our sense of the indefinite begins with the imagination. Yet the imagination quickly breaks down as it overextends itself in its effort to encompass anything unusually vast at one glance. The mathematical mind takes over and opens up to ever increasing dimensions. Thus the experience of a horizon is visual at first, then prolonged by the imagination, and finally transposed metaphorically into the 'further' that appears as a boundary to any of our determinate intellectual acquisitions. The particular objects are apprehended as forms against some background that cannot be analysed - unless one breaks it up into forms that will inevitably appear against some more remote background again. On the intellectual level we are aware that any general concept subsumes an indefinite number of concrete cases. Its generality allows for countless instantiations expressed in particular representations. Indeed the very act of generalization implies a leap from concrete facts to a height of understanding which escapes the narrowness of the particular. In addition to this logical aspect, we find a dynamic one in the process of questioning, which never lets up. If we thematize our intentionality, we can say that the transcendental notions of intelligibility, truth, and value propel us towards innumerable answers, each of which is interspersed with questions. Similarly, on the affective level we are left with something unachieved in all interpersonal relationships. There is constantly more to be asked, discovered, and appreciated in others. Both intellectually and affectively we are unable to carry our creativity to infinity and yet the best among us keep on expanding indefinitely. It is on account of this dynamic

158 Part 3: The Validity of Transcendent Experiences indefiniteness, disclosed in the unlimited range of our desire to know, that Aristotle could pronounce the human mind potentially infinite. On the intellectual and affective level, the degrees involved in comparisons are more than quantitative: they are qualitative. An instance of the latter is the assertion, 'John is kinder than Paul.' Degrees in kindness have to do with qualities or values, and in this we are also dealing with the indefinitely greater. Hegel has warned us that it is a mistake to equate this experience of the indefinite with the infinite. Those who succumb to this confusion are trapped by the 'spurious' infinite. Yet the indefinite must be recognized as a succession of signposts on the road towards the actual infinite. In all such cases, reason can think of an idea of a maximum, although it can never comprehend it. As we saw, Kant distinguishes this idea of the absolute whole or infinite from the merely indefinite. However, since it is unattainable, this maximum or infinite is purely negative. Hegel remarks that the infinite first appears as 'non-finite.' It is part and parcel of a dialectic in which anything positive must be negated. The most striking example of such negation bears upon the finite, which cannot be devised without its ever-present companion, the in-finite. It is in this context that the theme of human finitude-infinitude, which was broached in our assessment of Hegel's criticism of Kant, can now be better explained. First, we find our finitude inscribed in the limitations that hedge us in. At every step in our exploration of this world we encounter limits. Second, we discover our infinitude in the fact that, every time we temporarily stop to register our specific acquisitions, we almost straightway rebound and strive towards more. Our infinitude consists in the openness of our mind to the infinite. Such openness should not be conceived in terms of physical contiguity but on the intellectual as well as the affective plane. Readers may remember that Kant distinguishes between limits and bounds (also translated as boundaries). Limits are provisional: in mathematics and science we take stock of successive limits in our indefinite progression. But a boundary stands permanently at the junction between two fields. For example, beyond the field of science Kant posits an epistemologically unknown region called the infinite. As it ranges over what lies this side of the boundary, human reason cannot but posit what lies on the other side. David Tracy calls this boundary a necessary combination of 'limit-to' and 'limit-of.' In the experience of the limits to their everyday existence, humans are aware of the mystery that consti-

Basic Concepts I 159 tutes the limit of that existence.37 Thus they realize their finitude and their infinitude alike. Finally, we may clarify the ontological status of the infinite by indicating that the account proposed here is at odds with Hegel's system. For the latter the infinite overlaps with the ongoing movement of human thought. In his view the infinite is intrinsically dependent upon the unfolding universal history as a whole which discloses itself to our minds. For all his impressive contribution to the understanding of the dialectic, it must maintained, in opposition to Hegel, that the infinite absolutely transcends the sum total of the worldly processes as well as our grasp of them. The true infinite has no parts; it is absolutely simple. In itself it cannot include the answers reached in the course of our questioning, since such answers directly refer to conditioned and limited realities even as they point towards the unconditioned. According to Hegel's philosophy, however, even God is conditioned by finite realities. As Stephen Toulmin points out, the 'limiting questions' that we pose about the fundamental assumptions which undergird our cultural activities are performative proofs that as questioners we intend the infinite.38 Our cultural activities have been constituted by partial questions and answers. Asking a fundamental question about those partial questions and answers puts us en route towards the ultimate 'Why.' But must we not consider the complete answer to be more than the sum of the conditioned answers? Can't we anticipate a final answer in some judgment already made during our present existence? Embedded in our infinitude is the capacity to elicit the judgment, There is an unknown non-finite.' This judgment has both a negative and a positive import. In ruling out any finite candidate, this judgment is negative - more radically negative than all the instances of provisional negation mentioned by Hegel. In asserting the ontological status of this unknown ('there is'), the judgment is positive - more radically positive than all the surpassable instances of knowledge conceived of by Hegel. Again, as positive, this judgment has more referential validity than Kant's purely negative thinking of a maximum. By making this judgment my own, I depart from the Kantian tradition which influenced the revised metaphysical versions successively put forward by Schleiermacher, James, and Otto. As chapter 8 demonstrated, authors such as Marechal, Rahner, and Lonergan countered Kant's idealism by offering a critical realism to which I adhere. None-

160 Part 3: The Validity of Transcendent Experiences theless, this reservation should not prevent us from appreciating the many good points made by Kant and others - points recorded in the course of our explorations. Summary In the first section of this chapter, I canvassed the shades of meaning found in the word 'experience' that are applicable to transcendent experience. In the second section, human transcendence has been delineated and the transcendent situated with respect to transcendence. In the final section, terms such as the indefinite, finitude, infinitude, and the infinite have been distinguished. All of these concepts have been related as systematically as possible. In this chapter, I have also advanced an argument in favour of the distinctiveness of the transcendent, or the infinite. The sketchiness of the argument is justified by the fact that the thrust of my endeavour is not to mount an elaborate proof for the existence of God but rather to make a case for the validity of transcendent experience. This validity rests on the analysis of the process of self-transcendence, out of which the concept of the transcendent emerges. For our purposes it is sufficient to relate the concept of the transcendent to the other concepts that contribute to the elucidation of transcendent experience. Given the philosophical context elaborated thus far, we are now in a position to set about investigating the very core of transcendent experience, that is, the feeling and the discovery. Our next chapter will plumb these two central features of transcendent experience; after which it will tackle the interplay between experience and interpretation; and lastly it will seek to resolve the paradox of an experience that is direct and mediated at the same time.

Chapter 10

Basic Concepts II

In the preceding chapter, the terms experience, intentionality, transcendence, the transcendent, indefiniteness, finitude/infinitude, and the infinite were defined in order to manifest what is involved in transcendent experience. We must now concentrate on the central elements of transcendent experience that were presented in chapter 1: the feeling, the discovery, and the interpretation. First, we have to characterize the principal feeling, its coexistence with the discovery, its role, and its relations to emotions. Second the interactions between experience and interpretation will be probed. Finally we will conclude our reflections with an answer to the issue of directness and mediation. Feeling and Discovery In chapter 4, we noted that Schleiermacher's understanding of feeling is idiosyncratic. He distinguishes between feeling (Gefiihl, in the singular) and emotions (Erregungen, in the plural). In the experience of absolute dependence, both the transcendent feeling and pious emotions are present. The former has no real emotional thrust. It is a 'mental state,' which is better characterized as 'self-consciousness.' We are conscious of a 'midpoint' (Mittelpunkt), a 'crossing' (Ubergang) between our knowing and willing. We can attend to this very centre of our human spirit, where our cognitive and conative activities both converge and find their source. This source itself has a 'Whence' with respect to which a feeling of absolute dependence arises. According to the phenomenology sketched in chapter 1, feeling and discovery are the central elements (respectively the third and fourth) of transcendent experience. If we now take account of Schleiermacher's

162 Part 3: The Validity of Transcendent Experiences distinction between feeling and emotion, we must say that his 'feeling' is a form of knowing which amounts to what has been called here the core discovery. Of course I concur with Schleiermacher that it is not knowledge in the reflective sense that he gives to the word Wissen.1 Nonetheless, it is knowledge since it consists in the realization that we are open to the infinite. Schleiermacher's Gefiihl (in the singular) is the immediate self-consciousness of persons who stand in a relation of dependency to the Origin of their life. Notwithstanding Schleiermacher's useful contribution, I employ not the very misleading term 'feeling' but rather 'discovery' (in the singular) to designate the unique kind of knowing that he meant by Gefiihl. However, so as not to depart from current parlance, to designate the affective side of transcendent experience I speak equally of feeling and emotion (singular or plural). The dispute that ought to be adjudicated in this section concerns the relation of feelings to the discovery: Do they provide an implicit form of knowledge or do they make up the affective conditions thanks to which the discovery occurs? As already indicated in the section of chapter 8 entitled 'Feeling/ I cannot accept the view, held by Pascal, James, Otto, Scheler, and Lonergan, which attributes a capacity to know to the non-intellectual part of the human spirit - affectivity. Pace those thinkers, in my opinion such a phenomenon never happens. Far from entailing a certain knowing, feeling always depends on thinking in order to acquire its specificity. In us feeling and knowing are contemporaneous and yet distinct. As an affective tendency towards beings that interact with us, feeling is not in itself a form of cognition but a parallel inclination or aversion which accompanies and goads on our intellectual intentionality. Whenever coupled, however, our informal knowledge and emotional thrust set up a relationship with reality that is richer than mere thinking. Several theologians overlook the fact that in all human episodes, including religious ones, some form of cognition is operative with emotion. Given that the cognitive threshold is often quite low (since it requires no reasoning at the elementary level), the individual has been engaged in cognitive acts long before he or she becomes reflexively aware of them. Perhaps because in those circumstances the person is more conscious of one's feelings than one's cognitive acts, he or she can ignore the distinctiveness of the latter and make the mistake of placing the vague label 'feeling' over both one's conspicuous affective states and one's unheeded cognitive acts. We can observe the reciprocal influence of intelligence and affectivity

Basic Concepts II 163 in transcendent experience. At the stage of the preparation as well as when the occasion presents itself, intelligence and affectivity already cooperate. Then, because they are shaped by a sense of the indefinite, our imagination, intelligence, and affectivity together react to the situation created by the context and the occasion, and they are struck by the presence of something that exceeds their power in all respects (physical, rational, and emotional). Throughout this process any intelligibility that accrues must be credited to the intelligence. It is the latter that apprehends and judges whether something is meaningful and valuable. However, it needs the response of affectivity so as to get in touch with the people and qualities of the world that really impinge on us (as it needs the senses to get in touch with the realm of the physical). Feelings do not constitute prereflective knowing but they can facilitate its emergence in a human intelligence which is receptive and active. The role of feelings, then, is to open the way for the discovery by heightening the intelligence's awareness of values. Such values are particular, while carrying in themselves a sense of absoluteness. Consequently, agreeing with James and disagreeing with Otto, we must aver that religious feelings share with secular feelings the same origin: any occurrence whether commonplace or exceptional. Furthermore, feelings all have the same function, to stimulate (or hinder) knowledge. Thus any emotion can play a role in transcendent experience. For instance, in a finite apprehension of love, we may have a foretaste of a quality of lovingness which goes beyond the restricted love that is actually lived. The state of being in love quickens in us an attitude that is this-worldly and other-worldly at the same time. Transcendent experience does not afford any object-like knowledge; it simply calls attention to itself as noteworthy and as different from the rest of human life. As James observes: 'This higher vision of an inner significance in what, until then, we had realized only in the dead external way, often comes over a person suddenly; and when it does so, it makes an epoch in his history. As Emerson says, there is a depth in those moments that constrains us to ascribe more reality to them than to all other experiences.'2 If it were to utter articulate sounds, transcendent experience would declare: 'there is something extraordinary in the ordinary.' Its predominant feeling carries us elsewhere; it puts us in contact, so to speak, with something 'Wholly Other,' as Otto maintains. It reminds us that this Other is not an imaginative or cerebral construct. Thus in transcendent

164 Part 3: The Validity of Transcendent Experiences experience feeling is enlivening, and yet it is more than a mere emotional uplift, inasmuch as it consists in being gripped by the infinite. What is peculiarly disclosed is the earnestness of the response, that is, 'the vibration of our total being.'3 Here Otto has a point when he defends the uniqueness of religious feeling. Such uniqueness derives from its being directed to what I have called the transcendent objective- as goal of our intentionality. Whenever associated with the numinous, feeling becomes distinctive in its unique quality, albeit not in its intensity, pace James and Otto. In each experience the main discovery is accompanied by a principal feeling: sometimes love predominates, sometimes hope, sometimes dread, etc. However, in the case of a transcendent experience, it is a love that bears all things (1 Corinthians 13:7), it is hope against hope (Romans 4:18), or it is the dread of those who try to work out their salvation with fear and trembling (Philippians 2:12). Any feeling that goes along with the realization that one is being grasped by ultimate concern in the face of the mysterium tremendum intensifies the conviction that the import of the encountered reality is supreme. One becomes aware that in its inexhaustibility the mystery weighs upon one's mind. In this regard James is right when he talks of religious experience having a noetic quality, which is not spiritual information but rather the assurance that something very profound has been intimated. Again, such noetic quality dovetails with the ineffability he underscores in mystical experience. For one thing, this ineffability characterizes our sensitivity to a mystery that resists total comprehension; but the mystery does not rule out negative or analogical language about it. It should be clear from the foregoing that transcendent experience is inseparably noetic and emotional. In its nucleus the discovery and the feeling are the two sides of one happening that can alternately be called an affective apprehension of, or a cognitive feel for, the infinite. We may speak of 'wonder' as including both aspects, provided we do not use the word in the sense of mere puzzlement before an intriguing situation or problem. Rather it is wonder or astonishment that implies vertigo in the face of the immense. On the one hand, this vertigo contains knowing, since it is embedded in the activities of our imagination and understanding; on the other hand, it is part and parcel of an affective response to the degree that it is coloured by particular emotions. The well-knit unity of this wonder entitles us to look at it equally as a cognitive feeling and an affective discovery. What is the exact transcendent character of this discovery? As we

Basic Concepts II 165 have learned from Kant, it has to do with the idea of totality. If there is such an idea in our spirit - and Hegel, Marechal, and Rahner also testify to its presence - this idea can be activated by occasions such as those we have presented in our first two chapters. Thanks to the interplay of basic concern, image, and emotion, the idea of totality fills the mind with wonder. At this point, we no longer concentrate on objects in the foreground but on the background itself - the basic horizon, which Karl Jaspers calls 'the encompassing/4 becomes all-important. We participate in it, as in a whole, as in the whole of reality. We feel inescapably bound to it, be it by confrontation or absorption. Whereas our commonsense attentiveness remains confined within set patterns, in this happening a 'de-automatization' of perception occurs.5 The indefiniteness of objects that are no longer seen as making up the entire picture leads us into the infinite. The psychiatrist Jean-Pierre Valla ascribes this impression to an unexpected lack of bearings: the usual signposts that delimit our surroundings disappear.6 This takes place, for instance, in the abrupt enlargement of one's visual field when one reaches a mountain summit, surveys a vast plain, or contemplates the boundless sea. A sustained narrowing of the visual field, for example in front of a painting, can also bring about the same result. The privation of normal landmarks allows the imagination to lose itself in the all-comprehending horizon (the outward way of chapter 1) or in a focused point (the inward way). The reference marks that we count on and that all of a sudden are removed can be spatial, temporal, emotional, intellectual, interpersonal, etc. So again, the phenomenon engages not only the imagination but the affectivity and the mind as well. In addition to this psychological account, which is sound in itself whilst running the risk of being interpreted as explaining away transcendent experiences, another account - complementary, not competing - must be cast in relief. It derives from the intentionality analysis that we have practised in our previous two chapters. The fact that an undifferentiated whole suddenly occupies the entire field of an individual's or a group's awareness can be attributed to the transcendental constitution of the human intentionality endowed with a horizon. In transcendent experiences the starting point and end of all our intentional activities becomes vividly epitomized as a totality. Stephan Strasser aptly suggests that what surfaces in the feeling of the All is not consciousness of objects but consciousness at the level of disposition.7 Such primordial and diffuse consciousness resides in the pervasive

166 Part 3: The Validity of Transcendent Experiences disposedness by which we ever stand related and orientated to the world as meaningful and worthwhile. It is therefore the necessary presupposition for our world-perception and world-concern. Largely without explicit awareness, this undifferentiated sense of the All enables intentionality to engage in a quest for the differentiated unity of beings. But in privileged moments, this long-term target seems temporarily reached in some global anticipation. During those instants we have 'a presentiment of the possibility of an absolutely positive infinite happiness.'8 Because the totality envisaged lies beyond the purview of the material, the images, emotions, and ideas that evoke it function analogically.9 They do not afford a grasp of the mysterious reality in question, but they play the noble and indispensable role of symbolizing our access to it. The physical (actually limited) whole that our imagination glimpses mirrors a spiritual (actually unlimited) whole. The purposeful unity of this whole is apprehended as the Whence and the Whither, not of some geographical journey, but of our intentionality. Accordingly it does not matter whether one feels distinct from or immersed in the infinite. This divergence derives from the imagination, which envisions the whole either as beyond or as coinciding. The key is rather the feeling of plenitude, which can be found in union or in identity alike. In keeping with these remarks, it is appropriate to underline once more the negative aspect of this discovery. It is definitely not a positive knowledge such as a vision, an intuition, or a direct touching of the transcendent (although, as I explain in the third section, these words may legitimately be used to convey the directness felt in the experience). Instead, it is the awareness of a relationship with a unique unknown pronounced to be non-finite, in-finite. As was mentioned in chapter 9, the central judgment that is thereby conveyed is, for the most part, negative: we are in the presence of a mystery, an Other which appears totally different from all worldly beings. Therefore, the discovery that stands at the heart of transcendent experience and that can be formulated in the statement, 'there is something totally different here/ includes a little amount of affirmation and a vast amount of negation. Interpretation

A much debated issue must be tackled at this stage: to what extent is transcendent experience fashioned by interpretation? In this controversy the contenders have marched under one of the following three major banners.

Basic Concepts II 167 The first and oldest position is the common-core model. It holds that mysticism is homogeneous the world over. Underneath the manifold varieties of religious experience, we find a universal kernel which is phenomenologically identical. What makes the particular instances look different are the varying descriptions that are offered after the fact. The descriptions are tainted by 'overbeliefs' (a term coined by James) that, far from belonging to the experience, are extraneous accretions. These are allegedly superimposed upon the given element of religious experience. On that assumption, the experience could be compared to the parcel that turns out to be always the same, whereas the interpretations are nothing but the wrappings or variations. Until the 1950s, this doctrine of experiential unanimity was taken for granted by almost all scholars, who naively adopted a philosophia perennis of transcendent experience. It often supported a depreciation of religious doctrines as divisive. William James, Aldous Huxley, Evelyn Underhill, and Sarvepalli Radhakrishnan (Zaehner's predecessor at Oxford University) counted among its propagators. At times, Karl Rahner's praise for the unreflected experience seems to place him among those who drive a wedge between experience and interpretation, at the expense of the latter. As Bernard McGinn remarks, 'one may wonder if the gap that Rahner creates between experience and its thematization is sometimes so conceived that it hinders attempts to relate the two. Rahner's lack of attention to the ways in which language and other forms of objectification help shape experience itself - even a priori experience - suggest [sic] that his account needs broadening in this important area.'10 The most philosophical-minded advocate of this view was W.T. Stace. He took into consideration the three types introduced by Otto, refined considerably by Zaehner, and delineated towards the end of chapter 1. However, he did not want to jettison the idea of an underlying experience common to all types. If pluralism was conceded, then cracks were bound to appear in the monolithic construal of mystical experience. As he undertook the task of defining mysticism, Stace convinced himself that 'introvertive mysticism' was mysticism par excellence, while 'extrovertive mysticism' was reducible to the introvertive type, and he contended that the theistic type was too theory-laden to afford adequate accounts of the actual experience. His criterion for adjudicating their respective worth was their proximity or distance to the 'pure' experience posited as an already-in-here datum which ideally should be disengaged from any interpretive garment. Hence his preference for the introvertive mysticism, which consists in 'a direct experience of the

168 Part 3: The Validity of Transcendent Experiences dissolution of the separate individuality in something which transcends it and is directly perceived as, so to speak, swallowing it up.'11 I submit that Stace's effort was an unsuccessful attempt to contain and, in the end, abolish the plurality found in mystical narratives. As his position is attended by grave difficulties, it has lost much of its credibility. Is 'pure' experience comparable to brute matter onto which a label is simply tacked? Can we ever draw a sharp line at the place where experience finishes and interpretation begins? Pace Stace, it is impossible to strip off all constructs so as to get at the 'pure' experience for the simple reason that in order to do so, he must use other constructs, that is, those concepts which enter into his definition of the pure mystical experience. Notwithstanding his failure, Stace must be praised for having brought the discussion to a head thanks to his philosophical acumen. He himself avows: 'It is probably impossible in both cases [sense experience and mystical experience] to isolate "pure" experience.'12 Yet he does not seem to have realized that it was his mistaken construct of pure experience that made the whole issue of experience and interpretation intractable. Since the late 1970s, a countervailing trend has shown its vigour, particularly in the writings of Steven T. Katz.13 Katz begins with a genuine insight - that the expressions of religious experience are by no means secondary. As a matter of fact, he argues, any mystical event is very much moulded by theory. The resources of a cultural tradition exercise a shaping effect upon the way experiencers perceive things. Interpretation is present before (as susceptible of being incorporated into the experience), during (as reflexive, that is, formulated either during the experience itself or immediately afterwards), and after any significant event (as retrospective).14 Its role consists in constructing the experience, in pre-forming, con-forming, and post-forming it (to put it in my terms). Accordingly Katz's perspective has been called the constructivist model. Influenced by Kant and Wittgenstein, Katz emphasizes the paramount roles of thought and language in constituting experience itself. For him, observers who try to peel off the multiple layers of theory that wrap up a religious narrative end up with no onion left. He goes as far as to say that since two mystical encounters are caused by unlike expectations, they do not have the same reality as object. We are bound to remain doubtful as to whether they are phenomenologically alike, because we cannot access the experiences themselves but only interpreted

Basic Concepts II 169 experiences. Scholars cannot compare the events presented in differing accounts since no evidence enables them to find out how precisely to demarcate an experience from its interpretation. If this is the case, Katz's position might turn out to be self-contradictory. Do we not detect a paradox in his very practice of considering totally unknown experiences as mystical? How do we know, in the first place, that they are mystical? He would reply: by studying the particular language in which they are cast. If all we deal with is interpretation, what entitles us to acknowledge that mystical experiences, as distinct from religious thought, do indeed occur? Several commentators have instanced cases which suggest that the constructivist stance overlooks a great deal of evidence. Basing her assertions on perceptual psychology, Caroline Franks Davis points out that the conditioning power of language has little influence on perception itself, that 'language mainly affects the memory and expression of experiences.' She adds: 'Linguistic factors appear to have little effect on perceptual experiences themselves, but they do affect one's ability to codify percepts and thus to remember experiences, to communicate experiences to others, and to relate experiences to each other.' She also notes: 'However, like all elements of incorporated interpretations, culturally conditioned stereotypes and conceptual frameworks aid perception in an appropriate context.'15 An 'appropriate context' is an adequate worldview which, for example, would allow someone to recognize a person in church with his head bowed as actually praying, instead of as engaging in some other activity. In this interesting case introduced by Davis, I would like to underscore the fact that the mental apparatus people bring to their sensory acts such as seeing and hearing can be either misleading or helpful. Because of his expectation that only drunk people would move their lips without uttering anything audible in the temple, Eli the priest was misled by his presuppositions and decided that Hannah was drunk (1 Samuel 1). To take another example, this time of helpful knowledge: The more one studies birds, the more an individual will correctly observe birds' features and forms of behaviour. Or again, a child who knows that there are intermediary colours may have not yet heard the word 'purple' and yet realize that this peculiar hue is halfway between red and violet. Davis's observation disqualifies both the perennialist and the constructivist schemes, which are misguided by the hypothesis of a perceptual purity. Furthermore, it applies not only to perception but

170 Part 3: The Validity of Transcendent Experiences also to transcendent experience: the more spiritually attuned and cultivated a person has become, the more likely she is to construe her experience meaningfully. By contrast, if her articulation suffers from spiritual dullness and poor assumptions, chances are that she will come up with a distorted account of significant events in her life. In addition to her remark on perception, Davis adduces other pieces of evidence that run counter to the constructivist model. For instance, some children feel a powerful sense of presence so early in life that it cannot possibly be voiced in abstract or symbolic terms, since they have not yet learned how to employ such terms. Transcendent experiences remained unrelated to the subject's prior religious concepts because they appeared as 'Sunday School' beliefs which had to be discarded as naive, narrow, or restrictive. At other times, a religious discovery entitled a person to revise and change his childhood conception of God. As far as their religious insights were concerned, some people had to fumble for several years before they could express them in a more satisfactory manner, often thanks to having read competent authors on the topic.16 It is not uncommon for adolescents or adults to react against their cultural milieu and break away from its prejudices through recourse to the novelty of a transcendent experience. The latter may take place as a liberating surprise or as an unpleasant shock. It can be greeted with open arms (as a 'eureka' event) or resisted as something that should never have happened (as a demonic event). Mature mystics are sometimes aware of tensions between what they think they have experienced and the standard doctrines of the institutional orthodoxy to which they subscribe or with respect to which they entertain doubts. This cognitively uncomfortable situation may invite them to overturn previously held doctrines or to let a new perspective unfold, by reason of which some kind of intellectual resolution takes place. Such responses to one's experience document the fact that transcendent experience is not reducible to mere interpretation. In the midst of the experience, one has a sense that 'something is happening to me now,' whether positive or negative, and that this event differs from grappling with ideas. For instance, the personal experience narrated by G. William Barnard contains a first phase, in which he brooded about 'the idea' of what would occur to him after his death, and a second phase, in which his whole perceptual setting was transformed: 'Suddenly, without warning, something shifted inside. I felt lifted outside of myself, as if I had been expanded beyond my previous sense of self. In

Basic Concepts II 171 that exhilarating, and yet deeply peaceful moment, I felt as if I had been shaken awake. In a single, "timeless" gestalt, I had a direct and powerful experience that I was not just that young teenage boy, but rather, that I was a surging, ecstatic, boundless state of consciousness.'17 Another commentator objects to Katz, 'But what are we to make of spontaneous experiences, experiences of the nature-mystical type for example, or experiences undergone by the increasing number of mystical and quasi-mystical teachings? In such cases, far from there being a "readymade" interpretation to hand, there is often considerable confusion and even disorientation as the person concerned wonders what this experience means and how to interpret it.'18 For that matter, within the same cultural milieu, at times contradictory construals compete with one another. Consequently the experiencers must attentively review what has happened to them while choosing, among the categories at their disposal, those that permit them to identify correctly the content of their experience. Since interpretations can refract as well as reflect lived reality, they must themselves be criticized. All such exceptions to Katz's hypothesis indicate that, although conceptuality and language condition experience, they do not determine it. Experience is conditioned in the sense that its meaning comes from the common stock of ideas available to an individual or a group. On the other hand, experience is not determined since, by virtue of the human capacity for critical reflection, there is always some freedom to revisit and reconsider the experience and to reinterpret it. We can always discuss, sift, and evaluate the significant episodes of our life. Meanings must be teased out, since they may be at odds with one another. Some are discarded because of their inadequacies. Others can merge and coalesce into richer interpretations, as their significance is extended through confirmatory events. Far from moving away from the truth of the religious event, such a hermeneutical development can reach a deeper truth. The specific conceptual framework employed can become more sophisticated and provide a fuller understanding of the phenomena on which it sheds light. For instance, as was mentioned in chapter 4, Schleiermacher first transformed Kant's system and later modified and refined his own ideas on the sense of the infinite and the feeling of absolute dependence. The self-correcting process evolves by raising critical questions about one's interpretative overview. James Price puts his finger on the weakness of the constructivist outlook. 'The assumption here seems to be that true knowing is a

172 Part 3: The Validity of Transcendent Experiences matter of experiencing, and that if pure, unmediated experiencing were a possibility, there would exist the possibility of objective knowing.'19 Later in his piece, Price reminds his readers that 'to speak of the real is not to speak of unmediated experiencing, but to speak of apprehending true meaning.'20 That is to say, we access reality whenever our experience is mediated by meaning shown to be true. Besides experience, insight and judgment are also needed if we are to know reality correctly. This shortcoming on the part of the constructivists turns out to be the same presupposition as the one taken for granted by the perennialists: the positing of a pure experience, in itself utterly devoid of interpretation, which lies there, just waiting to be plumbed. The proponents of each camp differ only as follows. The perennialists assume that this pure experience is a matter of intuition, that it is directly accessed by all mystics, and that it therefore amounts to a common core. By contrast, the constructivists claim that we are inevitably impeded by words that substantially constitute mystical reality and therefore they despair of the very possibility of formulating the pure experience which lies beyond language. For all their opposition the two camps bear striking resemblances to each other. The constructivist outlook retains at least one crucial, but mistaken, trait of the perennialist outlook: the idea of the experience as existing in itself, before interpretation renders it unrecognizable. Besides the two views of mysticism above discussed (perennialism and constructivism), a third one, to which I myself incline, has emerged in recent years. Among its proponents are James Price, who builds on Lonergan's thought, as well as Robert K.C. Forman and the other contributors to the two important books Forman has edited on consciousness.21 An interesting contribution made by Forman consists in pointing out that since a 'pure consciousness event' (PCE) is thoughtless (albeit not without awareness), it cannot be shaped by any previous conceptuality. However, this remark is less significant for transcendent experiences, which are rarely thoughtless. If we adopt this third outlook, the task remains of reassessing the relations between experience and interpretation by having recourse to a sound epistemological framework. In light of the points made in chapters 8 and 9, let us begin by reminding ourselves that given the nature of human intentionality, our outreach to reality is not a matter of experience alone but a conjunction of experience, understanding, and judgment. Accordingly, although there is a component of knowledge called

Basic Concepts II 173 experience, we find no experience that would be knowable in itself, independent of interpretation. Moreover, the hermeneutical activity is not static: it progresses to the extent that understanding goes back to experience and culminates in revised judgments. In this unfolding we observe a dialectic of experience and interpretation in continuing interaction. Rather than imagining experience and interpretation as impervious to each other, John E. Smith, taking his cue from Charles Peirce, has proposed a way of relating them that throws much light on the problem.22 Far from being inimical to each other, experience and what Smith calls 'argument' or 'inference' work hand in hand. When someone attains the attitude that Peirce calls 'musement' before the cosmos as a whole, an experiential content is given which may be subsequently unpacked. The original intuition that has occurred within experience is developed into an argument that can be intimately sympathetic to the experience. Then, instead of moving away from what has been spontaneously lived, reason discloses what is already present in the complex of experience. When it is substantiated, the 'is' of direct experience becomes the 'must be' of argument. The former is not thoughtless and the latter is not mere thought. The problem with transcendent experience is that, although it is usually occasioned by perception, it is not in itself a perceptual event and has no perceivable object. Misguided are the philosophers of mysticism who draw too close a parallel between sense perception and socalled mystical perception.23 Intimations of transcendence involve a kind of consciousness that is non-objectal, non-conceptual, and nonverbal. Hence they do not belong in 'the world mediated by meaning/ to use the category by which Lonergan characterizes the finite world as we make sense of it. Of course, at the very outset cognitive elements play a role in that they prepare the ground for the occurrence of any transcendent experience. Depending on the concerns (inseparably intellectual and affective) of the person or the group, the central feelingdiscovery will acquire a particular tonality and be expressed through particular meanings. In vain have the perennialists tried to derive specific cognitive elements from the non-verbal moment itself. Transcendent experiences do not provide knowledge; they simply call attention to their 'object' - better called their 'objective' - as supremely important. We may talk of a knowing stemming from them if we mean the conviction that they are unique and point to something essential. This 'something essential' we

174 Part 3: The Validity of Transcendent Experiences have called the infinite. We must agree with the constructivists that this transcendent is unknown. What they overlook is that the judgment by which religious experiencers claim to have encountered something real is perfectly valid, because it is grounded in human intentionality. Whereas such a judgment is conceptually expressible, we must note that there is something private in the non-verbal component of an experience. A sensation utterly shorn of any intelligibility is entirely idiosyncratic and cannot be communicated. However, as named by its experiencer, this sensation becomes a part of language, is shareable, and thus enters into the domain of the public. In the 1950s, some French novelists - principally Alain Robbe-Grillet and Nathalie Sarraute rebelled against the rules of the nineteenth-century novel and advocated a 'nouveau roman.' In their works strange perceptual or emotional obsessions were persistently heeded. Those authors indulged in detailed descriptions of objects or impressions that seemed to disclose the purely private and meaningless. Yet there was a point: the pointlessness of the whole enterprise! As soon as you decide to speak about the private, it becomes public, intelligible, and hence no longer a matter of sheer sensation or disposition. Even nihilism, whenever evoked, acquires some meaning. What has been said in the preceding paragraph lends significance to the fact that in transcendent experience, the very individuality of the felt emotions cannot be reproduced, although it may be partly adumbrated, usually by analogy with something not totally different within the auditor's horizon. The exact feeling-quality of someone else's vecu remains discernible only indirectly, when some commonality of feeling-tones is communicated in empathetic dialogue. Mutual understanding can occur even though the participants do not feel the situation in exactly the same manner.24 However, we should note that this private experiential side is not what matters most. What is paramount is the discovery, which can be put into symbols and shared. At this point the speaker's, writer's, or artist's spiritual disposition and capacity to convey profound apprehensions are brought into play. Somehow the great poets who composed the religious scriptures of the world religions have managed to express the universal import of transcendent insights. Their words refer to an objective reality that, while unknown, nevertheless can be pronounced to be infinite, entirely true, beautiful, good, and trustworthy. The utility of the philosophy introduced in these chapters is solely to explain why this discovery, made at the centre of transcendent experi-

Basic Concepts II 175 ence, is available as a worldwide possibility. This root discovery differs from the perennialists' common core, taken to be a perceived datum or a raw experience. Instead of this, what we ought to stand for is a transcendent experience whose 'objective' can be glimpsed as real since it is the term of a human intentionality naturally intending reality. By rising above itself, the human mind acknowledges transcendent experiences that are similar and different at the same time. Their commonality has to do with the openness to the infinite, whereas their particularity depends on the concern and the occasion that trigger them in each case. Since this philosophy has been concerned only with transcendent experience, it leaves undecided the validity of other truth-claims which accompany the root discovery and which have to do with aspects of the finite world that are merely associated with the infinite in a contingent way. The decision to focus on ordinary transcendent experiences is the reason why I wrote, at the beginning of chapter 1, that neither advanced mystical states nor praeternatural phenomena would be discussed in these pages. Directness and Mediation The last oft-debated question to be tackled concerns the 'object' of transcendent experiences. They are said to be experiences of depth, of ultimacy, and of the infinite. What do we mean by this 'of? To put the question another way, is there a direct experience of the infinite? Let us first examine the 'psychological immediacy' or 'feeling of certainty'25 that often grips the minds of those who have a transcendent experience. Since during this particularly significant episode, the infinite stands out with a compelling reality, the experience strikes them as true and that impression lingers on. Notwithstanding this striking impression of truthfulness, we must take exception to James's contention that the vividness or intensity of an experience should make it selfauthenticating and could justify the religious person's belief in its veracity. Our religious beliefs ought not compulsorily to submit to the presumably higher authority of perception, whether secular or religious. As Richard J. Bernstein explains: 'One of Peirce's most brilliant insights is a careful distinction between compulsion and authority. A failure to make this distinction leads to the paradoxes of intuitionism where the insistency of a percept, perceptual judgment, or belief is mistakenly taken as evidence of its unquestioned validity.'26 Hegel teaches that in itself feeling has little intellectual content, re-

176 Part 3: The Validity of Transcendent Experiences mains subjectivistic, and may preclude dialogue. Although he overstates his case, he is basically right when he rails against the exaltation of unproblematic immediacy over mediating thought. A healthy intellect does not subserviently give in to the feeling of certainty but is willing, out of sheer integrity, to scrutinize it. One aspect of reflection is the duty to doubt and to assess the claims of experience in a critical manner. Verifying can be a long and arduous struggle conducted for the sake of truth. At the end of the inquiry, however, the judgment attained has a liberating effect: the peace of mind of someone who has had the courage to look difficulties in the face. The subjective impression of certainty is at best an indication, which deserves to be examined closely. The inner convincingness should not be dismissed out of hand. But the personal belief of having had a direct encounter with ultimate reality cannot be equated with sufficient evidence that such an encounter has actually taken place. As became clear in the previous section, one does not confront reality face-to-face without any interpretation interposing itself. The mere perception that the boundaries between the ego and its surroundings suddenly collapse by no means proves that this is an experience of the infinite. So the question of objectivity appears most apposite at this point. No impression belonging in the experience can answer it; only a rational judgment is able to settle the issue. Therefore the investigation 'needs to be conducted on extra-experiential grounds.'271 would add: at least partly. An assumption often skews the contemporary discussion of whether transcendent experiences are immediate or mediated. They are valid, if they are sensory or supra-sensory perceptions. This perceptual character seems to accord with the directness that the word 'experience' suggests.28 Yet this presupposition is mistaken even in daily life and in science. Far from being discrete items each of which would be individually and directly perceived, arrays of data present themselves as already interconnected and patterned according to our varying interests. In the case of transcendent experiences, sensory data is found only in the occasion and thus remains extrinsic to them. Consequently, they do not grasp any knowable object in the data. In them, the relation of human desire to the unknown is not perceptual but intentional. All the same, a definite immediacy is worth noticing, to the degree that we are directly conscious of our acts and feelings. This consciousness is not consciousness of the data but consciousness in the human intentionality as operative. At the highest level of intentionality, one can be actively

Basic Concepts II 177 and consciously open to the mystery. 'The infinite is mediated to the mystic through the immediacy with which he [or she] knows his or her own movement to the unknown.'29 This movement towards the unknown is nothing else than intelligent desire. Pace Otto, we are fitted with no special faculty that could enable us to reach God. We witnessed the mature Schleiermacher abandon his idea of religion as a special province in human life, alongside knowledge and action. He realized that humans find the transcendent in science, morality, and the arts as well as in everyday living. The divine is not an object of direct apprehension. Instead, it is co-present to us in all the limited acts by which we know and appreciate finite beings. John Baillie formulates this fact in a nuanced manner. 'Yet, though we are more directly and intimately confronted with the presence of God than with any other presence, it does not follow that He is ever present to us apart from all other presences.'30 God is present to a medium - the human receptacle, an embodied and dynamic receptacle in constant interaction with its environment. What mediates the transcendent is the integral movement of that receptacle - intentionality. As reported in the section 'Mediatedness' on Schleiermacher, intentionality does not bypass the universe of finite beings but spontaneously looks for a general coherence in them. The sense of the whole that we find operative within our mind makes it possible to view the world as one and to identify with it. Thus we gain a basic consciousness of finitude and of absolute dependence. Furthermore, in the section 'Immediacy and Mediation' of chapter 8 we found that Lonergan distinguishes two kinds of immediacy. The first kind is characteristic of infants, who are in direct sensory contact with their surroundings. This immediacy is unmediated because infants do not have recourse to words and remain incapable of reflexive awareness. The second kind is characteristic of adults: it is an immediacy to which they return. It is mediated by the 'world' (in the Heideggerian sense) which constitutes their frame of reference and enables them to orient themselves. During physical exercises, loving moments, or meditation periods, people relax the control carried out by the mind and they approximate immediacy. Given that it begins in the world of meanings and values, and progressively withdraws from it, the immediacy that is obtained is said to have been mediated by those meanings and values. Such mediated immediacy is itself subdivided into two sorts: outward or inward. In outward immediacy, an individual may feel pleas-

178 Part 3: The Validity of Transcendent Experiences ure or fear in mere sensation. Bodily proprioception can be exhilarating, especially in challenging athletic performances. By contrast, to be lost in a pointless bombardment of stimuli can be frightening. The other sort of mediated immediacy is inward. It consists in the consciousness that traverses all our acts, affective states. As we saw, Lonergan calls it 'interiority.' This interiority is not necessarily religious. Although it can become religious as soon as it acknowledges a relationship with the transcendent, human interiority is in itself secular, since it is inherently dealing with finite realities. Human interiority encompasses both the consciousness that accompanies all our acts and states, and the consciousness that accompanies our openness to the infinite. Lonergan sees the latter - religious consciousness - as the extension of the former - consciousness in the world. As was pointed out in the chapter on Lonergan, it is easy to collapse the inward immediacy into the outward one. Wherein do they differ from each other? The inward immediacy is typical of our whole intentionality, including its openness to the transcendent. The outward immediacy is narrower: it is restricted to our perceptual contact with the environment. Drawing out too strict a parallel between the two may end up in unwarranted conclusions. As was suggested earlier, the perceptual does not constitute more than an analogy for the intentional, while the intentional, in its turn, does not constitute more than an analogy for the transcendent. During the first two stages - preparation and occasion - of transcendent experience, the human mind operates as usual. Its concerns, questions, hunches, and emotions fashion the very manner in which one enters the experience. Since it is pre-formed, the latter must be said to be mediated. Its richness is proportionate to its having acquired its substance from the most significant human existentials. The privileged medium in which we discern the divine is nothing else than our central preoccupation: our search for security, meaning, freedom, or interpersonal relationships. At the core of the experience, the feeling-discovery carries with it an intimation of the infinite. What makes the basic feeling-discovery possible is the very structure of our intentionality. It is important to note that the 'sense of the infinite' is not a particular sense alongside our notions of meaning, truth, and value. It is not another transcendental. Rather, it is what is unrestricted in those notions. By virtue of the latter, our finitude-infinitude has an affinity with being, both in its limited and in its unlimited character.

Basic Concepts II 179 Lonergan has taught us that intentionality includes four levels: experience, understanding, judgment, and decision. The first level consists in sensory receptivity, which puts us in contact with the tangible and which is normally furthered by imagination and memory. In transcendent experience, this perceptual receptivity plays a psychological role, which both Kant and Valla explain as they underscore the fact that the imagination abruptly loses its bearings. Thereafter, the other levels of intentionality react to the phenomenon that has developed on the first level. Given that those higher levels are constituted as intending a horizon of indefinite meaning, truth, and value, this very structure grounds the possibility of a sense of the infinite that is more than perceptual. As mentioned earlier, transcendent experience is mediated according to three phases. First, it is 'pre-formed' by all the factors that enter into the preparation and the occasion. Second, it is 'con-formed' by the imagination and the higher levels of intentionality in their response to the indefinite. And third, it is 'post-formed' by the interpretation that accrues after the event. The directness of transcendent experience is partly a matter of impression. Beginning with Plato and continuing throughout Western thought, authors mention the suddenness of the mystical event. Sometimes it even seems to come as a bolt out of the blue. There may have been a resistance on the part of the eventual experiencer who has struggled to exert control. Pressure may have built up, until a sort of explosion takes place in which the letting-go that ensues is felt as a profoundly wished-for release. A mystical event also appears to be direct insofar as it is non-discursive and non-inferential. In this respect we may call it 'intuitive/ in opposition to 'rational.' It amounts to James's 'knowledge by acquaintance/ in contrast to 'knowledge-about.' It is definitely not the result of a formal reasoning process. Yet, as was previously underlined, there is in it more thinking than meets the eye. Often transcendent experience involves the working through of an existential problem. A keen observer would detect reasoning, at least informal reasoning, especially at the stage called the preparation. However, the experiencer may be unaware of the reasoning and the psychic evolution that have prepared the way for the unexpected insight. It is perfectly normal, at the moment of discovery, to forget the preparatory elements that preceded it and to be dazzled by the influx of light suddenly shining. As Hegel perceptively notes:

180 Part 3: The Validity of Transcendent Experiences We can further cite the fact that something can seem wholly immediate, yet be the result of mediation. What we actually know we have immediately before us - say a mathematical result. It was arrived at by many intermediate steps, though it finally appears as something that one knows immediately. It is the same with drawing or with performing music, each being a result of practice or something mediated by an endless number of actions. This is true of every skill and so on. But when we consider religious knowledge more specifically, then it is indeed an immediate knowledge. When I represent God to myself, then I have God immediately before me. Yet mediation is also contained in this simple, immediate relation. First, I am the knower, and second, there is an object, which is God. My knowing God is in general a relationship, and therefore is something mediated. I am a knower and a religious believer only through the mediation of this content, through this object. We cannot point to anything at all that does not contain mediation within itself.31 While Hegel overstresses mediation, his point is well taken. However, instead of subordinating immediacy to mediation as Hegel does, we should try to hold each of them in complementarity with its counterpart. Having emphasized the mediatedness of transcendent experience, I nevertheless think we can also talk legitimately of its directness in a sense that is deeper than the above introduced impression. It is immediacy in its profound, intentional dimension. We have already seen that the mystical immediacy, while it has a perceptual component (given by the occasion), is not spatial but intentional. The target of transcendent experience is already present in the mind of the knower (second and third level of intentionality) and in the heart of the lover (fourth level). In this regard, the presentiment which constitutes the feeling-discovery bespeaks a transcendental openness to the infinite. So much for what philosophy can legitimately say about the phenomenon. Still Christian theology may add an assertion which cannot be proved rationally but which is comparable to a missing piece in a jigsaw puzzle. Only when we put this piece in its place is the complete picture obtained. A crucial judgment permits us to talk not simply, as philosophers, of the possibility of immediacy, but also, as believers, of its actuality. In other words, intentionality is not merely open to the infinite; it stands in a real relationship with it. Several mystics tell us that they are conscious not only of their tendency towards God but also of having been granted a union or

Basic Concepts II 181 identity that is equated to a fulfilment of that tendency. Their intentional dynamism orientated to the infinite is experienced as having somehow attained its goal in an anticipatory manner. They are convinced that they have 'touched' God, or better, that God has touched them. Such is the phenomenological indication that prompts us to raise the fundamental question about the actuality of the immediate relationship with the divine. The feeling-discovery points beyond itself, not to a mere possibility, but to a reality. There is indeed a responsive union or unity, however imperfect. To a large extent, the affective nature of transcendent experience drives home the conviction, in the mind of the beneficiaries, of having been disquieted by the mystery. Coupled with feeling, such knowing is more compelling than a mere intellectual approach to the divine. What is experienced as supremely valuable and good impinges on the human consciousness more forcefully than what is experienced simply as intelligible and true. Accordingly the fascination for God gives to the name 'God' (or 'the divine/ 'the transcendent,' 'the infinite' - terms we have employed interchangeably) an edge of meaning which corresponds with the increased radiance and attractiveness of the encountered reality. In transcendent experience one knows little about the mystery but one gets a vivid realization of its significance. Moreover, so long as the analogy with interpersonal relationships plays a role, religious experiencers are often persuaded that the Other has been most active in establishing the relationship, that the Other has exerted an influence upon their state of mind and heart, that the whole process has been a matter of grace. While not being equal to a proof, such an impression constitutes an indication, a piece of evidence that must be taken seriously. The conviction that an extraordinary gift has been granted occurs in many world religions. At the risk of shocking the constructivists, I would submit that we may appeal to this experience in order to show the plausibility of a real immediacy between the human person and the transcendent. Not that experience demonstrates what is stated. In itself experience is neither true nor false, rather, what is true or false is the way one affirms experience, that is, the grounds on which such an affirmation rests. Summary

The first section of this chapter attempted to highlight the importance of feeling and the nature of the root discovery in transcendent experi-

182 Part 3: The Validity of Transcendent Experiences ence. On the one hand, feeling gives rise to a hunch that something is at stake in a particular episode of one's life, that the nub of the issue is more than a matter of thinking, and that one is thereby responding to a dimension of reality that exercises an actual impact on what the person is and will be. On the other hand, the discovery is the unsettling unknowing-knowing gained in the encounter with the infinite. The second section of this chapter set out to zero in on the interplay between experience and interpretation. Reasons were given to demonstrate the shortcomings of two much debated outlooks - the perennialist and the constructivist - on mystical events. Both camps assume that the root discovery is a 'pure/ 'raw' experience. But they deduce contrary conclusions. For the perennialists, a universal core, untouched by interpretation, is directly perceived and can be described, albeit never adequately. For the constructivists, there can be no objective judgment about the experienced reality, since it appears to us entirely shaped by the experiencers' concepts and words. Instead of those two inadequate stances, a broader epistemology enabled us to bring into clearer view the interaction between experience and interpretation. We observed a self-correcting dialectic in the mind's efforts to employ ideas in order to articulate experience more accurately. We attended to the unique character of transcendent experience and underlined the analogical status of language regarding it. As an essential, then, a double fact needs emphasizing: the reality to which we relate in transcendent experience is both unknown in itself and nevertheless truly known as different. Because intentionality intends reality, the twofold judgment - negative and positive - which constitutes the root discovery is objectively valid in principle, while perfectible by means of a self-correcting dialectic. In our last section, judgment turned out to be the key to opening the door to the vexed question of immediacy versus mediatedness. The issue was: is it possible for transcendent experience to be direct and mediated at the same time? An affirmative answer to the directness became possible on the basis of an investigation into the psychology and the philosophy that explain the sense people can have of the whole. An affirmative answer to mediation became possible on the basis of the entire enquiry of this book, which has explored the conditions of possibility of transcendent experience. Finally, let me summarize my argument in the last three chapters. There is immediacy between human intentionality and the transcendent if this intentionality is essentially oriented towards the absolute

Basic Concepts II 183

mystery (chapter 8), if it actually reaches for the infinite (chapter 9), if it is already fulfilled in its anticipation of the 'Whereunto' (first section of chapter 10), if interpretation does not hinder but rather facilitates the discernment of truth (second section), and if the various intermediaries, including grace, put intentionality in real relationship with the divine (third section).

Conclusion

This study has sought to kindle or rekindle existential and philosophical interest in transcendent experiences. It is hoped that readers have come to better appreciate the rich variety and significant function of these experiences in human life. I have indicated how they force themselves upon the human intentionality in its reach towards knowing and loving the whole of reality, and engaging with the mystery. Taking my cue from Husserl, who writes that consciousness necessarily is consciousness of something, I have argued that transcendent experiences are indeed directed to an infinite 'objective' (or 'object/ a misleading term to which I have only given occasional, reluctant, and qualified acceptance). This objective is endowed with an index of reality incomparably higher than the one imparted to finite beings. In themselves, however, transcendent experiences cannot settle the question of what (or who) is this infinite that has been foreshadowed. The extent to which this incomparable reality is revealed in the various religious traditions of humankind has also been left undecided. Nonetheless, it has been sufficient to advance the following point: given that, as phenomenology shows, such experiences display the openness of the human person to the indefinite, the existence of an infinite makes more sense than its non-existence. Besides, if we leave out the idea of the infinite, the set of basic concepts that undergird transcendent experience remains incomplete. A philosophy of transcendent experience must take into consideration issues that narratives cannot tackle. It is incumbent upon intentionality analysis to sort out gnoseological assumptions that creep into even seemingly theory-free descriptions. Therefore I have deemed it useful to delineate, at least through a series of brief sketches, what cognitional

Conclusion 185 theory has been espoused in these pages. Accordingly chapters 8, 9, and 10 have explicated the elementary components of an epistemology based on self-knowledge. Transcendence has been demonstrated to be cross-cultural, since it can be exhibited in the intentional dynamism implemented by all human agents. The intentionality disclosed in selftranscendence is the foundation stone of the conceptual edifice that Lonergan and other thinkers have endeavoured to build. Furthermore, the human mind poses a question that caps the inquiring process. Like all other, more limited, questions, the ultimate question is intelligible and requires an answer. This peculiar one is a reduplication of human questioning with respect to the realities we find meaningful, true, and worthwhile. It questions questioning itself. Must finite meaning, truth, and value be grounded in an x that is infinite? If we answer 'yes' to this ultimate question, we affirm that this x is as real as the realities whose meaningfulness, truth, and worth it is meant to ground. Moreover, if there is nothing limited about it, that x must be absolutely transcendent, a conclusion drawn in chapter 9. The last move (in chapter 10) has been to connect this intellectual approach to the divine with experiences of transcendence. The latter more conspicuously express the affective aspect of the intentional movement towards ultimacy. Such primarily affective experiences embody our openness to the mystery in terms of desire, longing, and fascination. We can be profoundly intrigued by something totally different that summons us. And if we are also attracted, it is because of a certain affinity between our unrestricted desire and that which appears as its unknown target. In my opening comments I mentioned that at the end of his life, Karl Barth, who persistently raised critical questions about the thought of Schleiermacher, contemplated the possibility that the latter had actually laid the groundwork for a theology of the Holy Spirit. I have tapped into the writings of modern authors in order to find new perspectives on the manifestation of the divine Spirit in the human spirit. To be able to open up this reservoir of meanings, it was necessary not to deal exclusively with the intellectual side of the human approach to the infinite. For this reason, we have explored the non-discursive aspect of some itineraries towards God. The venture in thought undertaken in this book ends with philosophical conclusions. Of these, the principal one is that humans are orientated to the non-finite, both intellectually (in the discursive approach, which begins with intentionality analysis and culminates in

186 Transcendent Experiences

metaphysics) and affectively (in transcendent experiences). On two ocasions, however (in chapter 9 and in chapter 10), a theological tenet has been mentioned. It states that those who accept the factor of grace can assert that transcendent experiences are experiences of God, in the sense that, elevated by the Holy Spirit, the human spirit is established in a relationship that is a direct enjoyment of God's presence and a sharing in the divine life. I have introduced this theological position merely as a possible complement, congruent with the book's phenomenological observations, but not argued for here as these pages remain within the bounds of the philosophy of religion. In the cases where they are not acknowledged, transcendent experiences wield little impact on the recipients' life. At other times, they are abused: they become opportunities for religious charlatans, or a means of evasion for victims who (understandably) try to escape life's hardships. In contrast to neglect or distortion, transcendent experiences can be taken seriously and cultivated by way of courageous decisions concerning prayer, values, and truth. Karl Rahner writes: 'The particular psychological, and really natural, character of such experiences can help to make them take deeper root existentially in the person's inmost being, so that as supernaturally exalted acts they can in a higher degree give their stamp to the whole subject, forming him through and through.'1 All this is a matter of desire. Whenever people have room exclusively for finite cravings, they are unlikely to intensify desire in its wider scope. But why, it must be asked, ought we to heighten this more fundamental desire? The answer is simply because of the unique joy that doing so produces. Inasmuch as the fruit of transcendent experience consists in a 'yes' to an incomparable presence apprehended as beauty, meaning, truth, or goodness, this consent brings about joy, peace, detachment, and freedom. Such feelings may coexist with a fear caused by psychic turmoil, intellectual confusion, or an acute sense of personal sinfulness. But these negative emotions are not the most central. Solely the positive affective states we have just mentioned occupy the peak or the ground of the soul (depending on the metaphor preferred). The beneficiaries of transcendent experience can become aware of a peculiar modification of consciousness that has taken place in themselves. Not infrequently the seed remains long-buried and slowly germinates. Several years, perhaps decades, may elapse before one fully realizes what occurred and the fruit finally grows. Yet, from the original

Conclusion 187

transcendent event, a conversion sometimes unfolds. Hence the convictions that lie at the basis of this study could be summed up as follows: people who have the strong impression that they have been touched by the infinite are right; they can trust their own interpretation provided they are willing to deepen it and, if necessary, allow it to redirect their life; philosophy and world religions do offer them frames of reference in which transcendent experience and the transformation that ensues both make sense.

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Notes

Introduction 1 See Reginald W. Bibby, The Poverty and Potential of Religion in Canada (Toronto: Irwin Press, 1987), 69-70; Andrew M. Greeley, The Sociology of the Paranormal: A Reconnaissance (Beverly Hills: Sage Publications, 1975), 57-8; David Hay, Exploring Inner Space: Scientists and Religious Experience (Harmondsworth: Penguin Books, 1982), 112-29, and Religious Experience Today (London: Mowbray, 1990), 79-85 for 'international statistics.' 2 About religious intuition, H.P. Owen writes: 'If it seems abnormal or unnatural to us, the reason is that it has been abnormally and unnaturally suppressed.' See The Christian Knowledge of God (London: Athlone Press, 1969), 124. 3 See Patrick L. Bourgeois, 'Religious Experience and the Philosophical Radicalization of Phenomenological Theology,' Proceedings of the American Catholic Philosophical Association 55 (1981): 172-83; The Religious within Experience and Existence: A Phenomenological Investigation (Pittsburgh: Duquesne University Press, 1990). 4 Karl Barth, 'Concluding Unscientific Postscript on Schleiermacher/ in The Theology of Schleiermacher, ed. Dietrich Ritschl (Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmans, 1982), 261-79, esp. 274-9. 5 In a book written in French on the same topic, I discuss the critical views of Feuerbach, Freud, Barth, and some contemporary psychoanalysts. See Louis Roy, Le Sentiment de transcendance. 6 In Le Sentiment de transcendance I offer a brief commentary on chapter 11 of the Bhagavad-Gita. Moreover, in a forthcoming book on mystical consciousness, I engage in a comparison between Neoplatonism and Zen Buddhism, in the light of twentieth-century philosophy of mysticism.

190 Notes to pages xiii-5 7 Arthur M. Abell, Talks with Great Composers (New York: Philosophical Library, 1955). James's and Otto's views will be addressed in chapters 6 and 7. 8 Paul Ricoeur, Oneself as Another, trans. Kathleen Blarney (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1992), 318; see also Index, 'Ontology.' As another author puts it, moving from the descriptions of 'the phenomenal field' to 'a second-order reflection'; see M. Merleau-Ponty, Phenomenology of Perception, trans. Colin Smith (New York: Humanities Press, 1962), 63 and 365. 1: Constituents and Classification 1 In 'A Typology of Religious Experience,' Journal for the Scientific Study of Religion 18 (1979): 61-7, Robert D. Margolis and Kirk W. Elifson isolate four factors. Their Factor 1, called 'Transcendental Experience,' amounts to our transcendent experience. 2 R.C. Zaehner, Mysticism Sacred and Profane, 32. 3 Andrew M. Greeley, The Sociology of the Paranormal: A Reconnaissance (Beverly Hills: Sage Publications, 1975), 43. 4 See Raymond A. Moody, Life after Life (Atlanta: Mockingbird Books, 1975); Reflections on Life after Life (New York: Bantam/Mockingbird, 1977); John J. Heaney, The Sacred and the Psychic: Parapsychology and Christian Theology (New York: Paulist Press, 1984), chap. 8: 'Recent Studies of Near Death Experiences.' Heaney supports the view that such experiences can be transcendent: 'The near death experience is, generally speaking, a very rich, rewarding and satisfying one which in a sense crowns one's life with a mystical experience in the broad sense' (147). 5 Within the confines of the present book, I study the occasion that triggers transcendent experiences only in its psychological and intentional dimensions. I assume that psychological and intentional activities are conditioned by but not reducible to, functions of the brain. For a deliniation of three positions on this issue - materialist, realist, and idealist - see John E. Collins, 'Transcendent Experience and Psychological Models of the Brain,' in Civil Religion and Transcendent Experience: Studies in Theology and History, Psychology and Mysticism, ed. Ralph C. Wood and John E. Collins (Macon, GA: Mercer University Press, 1988), 101-28. 6 Rudolf Bultmann, Faith and Understanding, ed. Robert W. Funk, trans. Louise Pettibone Smith (Philadelphia: Fortress Press, 1987), 156-9 and 192-3. 7 Walter Houston Clark, 'The Phenomena of Religious Experience/ in

Notes to pages 5-13

191

Religious Experience: Its Nature and Function in the Human Psyche, ed. Walter Houston Clark et al. (Springfield, IL: Charles C. Thomas, 1973), 21-40, esp. 34-6. 8 Peter Berger, A Rumor of Angels, 53. 9 Mikel Dufrenne, The Phenomenology of Aesthetic Experience, 375-9 and 398-407. 10 Ibid., 404. 11 In chapter 6 of his book, In the Throe of Wonder: Intimations of the Sacred in a Post-Modern World (Albany: SUNY Press, 1992), Jerome A. Miller distinguishes instinctual fear of danger from horror experienced in the face of nothingness. 12 Dufrenne, Phenomenology, 378. 13 Ian T. Ramsey, Religious Language: An Empirical Placing of Theological Phrases (New York: Macmillan, 1957), chap. 1; Talking about God: Models, Ancient and Modern,' in Myth and Symbol, ed. F.W. Dillistone (London: SPCK, 1966), 76-97, esp. 88. 14 Dufrenne, Phenomenology, 376-8 and 404-5. 15 Ibid., 405. 16 Ibid., 415-25. 17 'Psychology and Literature,' in The Spirit in Man, Art, and Literature (New York: Random House, 1966), 84-105, esp. 88-95. 18 Rudolf Otto, Mysticism East and West, part A, chaps. 4-6. 19 Philip C. Almond, Mystical Experience and Religious Doctrine, 120. 20 Otto, Mysticism East and West, Appendix 2, 'The Mysticism of the "Two Ways" in Schleiermacher.' 21 Ibid. 22 Ibid., 275-82. 23 R.C. Zaehner, Concordant Discord: The Interdependence of Faiths (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1970), 131. 24 Walter T. Stace, Mysticism and Philosophy; Ninian Smart, 'Interpretation and Mystical Experience,' Religious Studies 1 (1966): 75-87. 25 Nelson Pike, Mystic Union: An Essay in the Phenomenology of Mysticism (Ithaca: Cornell University Press, 1992), Supplementary Study 1: 'R.C. Zaehner on Theistic Mystical Experience.' 26 See William J. Wainwright, Mysticism: A Study of Its Nature, Cognitive Value and Moral Implications (Brighton: Harvester Press, 1981). For a perspicacious criticism of both Stace and Wainwright, see Delmas Lewis and Paul Griffiths, 'Wainwright on Mysticism,' Religious Studies 20 (1984): 293-304.

192 Notes to pages 15-34 2: Narratives 1 Clark E. Moustakas, Loneliness (New York: Prentice-Hall, 1961), 52-3. 2 Arthur Koestler, The Invisible Writing (London: Hutchinson, 1954), 428-30. Section numbering is mine. 3 See also Arthur Koestler, Arrow in the Blue: An Autobiography (New York: Macmillan, 1952), 50-1 and 79-80. 4 Koestler, Invisible Writing, 431. 5 Ibid., 430. 6 Ibid., 433-6. 7 Ibid., 437. 8 Ibid., 436. 9 We Shall Overcome, dir. Jim Brown (Beverly Hills: PBS Home Video, 1988). 10 Ibid. 11 Boris Pasternak, Doctor Zhivago, trans. Max Hayward and Manya Harari (New York: Pantheon, 1958), 501-2. 12 Ibid., 499. 13 Martin Heidegger, 'What Is Metaphysics?' in Pathmarks, 87. 3: Kant and the Sublime 1 Sections and pages refer to the German Akademie edition, Kants gesammelte Schriften (Berlin, 1902-). All but two English translations indicate page numbers of the Akademie edition. For these two exceptions (Observations and Religion), references will be given to the English translations. 2 Longinus, On the Sublime, trans. James A. Arieti and John M. Crossett (New York: Mellen Press, 1985). 3 Boileau, Traite du Sublime, ou du merveilleux dans le discours, traduit du grec de Longin, in Oeuvres completes (Paris: Gallimard, 1966), 331-440. 4 Edmund Burke, A Philosophical Enquiry into the Origin of our Ideas of the Sublime and Beautiful, ed. James T. Boulton (Notre Dame: University of. Notre Dame Press, 1968), 37. Italics in original. Unless otherwise indicated, italicized words in quotations are by the authors themselves. 5 Ibid., 72 and 73. 6 Allan Lazaroff, 'The Kantian Sublime: Aesthetic Judgment and Religious Feeling,' Kant-Studien 71 (1980): 206. 7 H.W. Cassirer, A Commentary on Kant's 'Critique of Judgment' (New York: Barnes & Noble, 1970), 226. 8 Ibid., 121. 9 On Zweckmafiigkeit (finality, purposiveness), in which the goal of nature

Notes to pages 34-8 193 (Naturzweck) and the goal of freedom (Freiheitszweck) are brought into harmony, see Peter Heintel, Die Bedeutung der Kritik des asthetischen Urteilskraft fur die transzendentale Systematik, Kantstudien Erganzungshefte, no. 99 (Bonn: Bouvier, 1970), 18-37 and 104-11. 10 Paul Crowther, The Kantian Sublime: From Morality to Art (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1989), 51. 11 I have kept Pluhar's translation of Vorstellung as 'presentation.' Wolfgang Schwarz makes a case for 'presentation' in his Preface to the Dover Edition of Kant's Logic, trans. Robert S. Hartman and Wolfgang Schwarz (New York: Dover Publications, 1988), iv. However slight emendations will be made to Pluhar's translation in subsequent quotations. 12 See Victor Basch, Essai critique sur Vesthetique de Kant, 2d ed. (Paris: Vrin, 1927), preface, esp. h, and 51-66. 13 Paul Guyer, Kant and the Claims of Taste (Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 1979), 110-19 and 151-60. He himself (see n.119 and n.126) is indebted to Anna Tumarkin, 'Zur transcendentalen Methode der Kantischen Asthetik,' Kant-Studien 11 (1906): 373 and 375. 14 See Donald W. Crawford, 'Kant's Principles of Judgment and Taste,' in Proceedings of the Sixth International Kant Congress, ed. Gerhard Funke and Thomas M. Seebohm, vol. II/2,281-92 (Washington, DC: University Press of America, 1989). 15 Paul Guyer, 'Kant's Distinction between the Beautiful and the Sublime,' Review of Metaphysics 35 (1981-2): 767-8. 16 At § 26, 251, Kant speaks of 'numerical series progressing ad infinitum.' In the first Critique, however, as he discusses the relevance of a distinction between progressus in infinitum and progressus in indefinitum, he states that this distinction would be 'mere subtlety' in cases such as the indefinite drawing of a straight line (A 511/B 539). In other cases, which we are not considering at the moment, the distinction would be appropriate (see A 511-15/B 539-43). 17 Gerard Lebrun, Kant et la fin de la metaphysique (Paris: Colin, 1970), 416. 18 In the aesthetic judgment, the synthesis of reproduction includes a 'productive' side and is more free in its selectivity than the one that leads to strict conceptual knowledge. C/, 'General Remark' (following § 22), 240-1 should not be construed as eliminating wholesale the reproductive role of the imagination. For a different view on this topic, see Rudolf A. Makkreel, 'The Role of Synthesis in Kant's Critique of Judgment,' in Proceedings of the Sixth International Kant Congress, vol. II/2, ed. Gerard Funke and Thomas E. Seebohm (Washington, DC: University Press of America, 1989), 345-55, esp. 349-50.

194 Notes to pages 39-47 19 Burke, Philosophical Enquiry, 73. 20 Crowther, Kantian Sublime, 105. 21 Jacob Rogozinski, 'Le don du monde/ in Du sublime, ed. Jean-Francois Courtine (Paris: Belin, 1988), 200-4. See Lebrun, Kant, 420-6. 22 The English translator italicizes in order to highlight the accent on the gegebene, which appears in the second edition. The corresponding sentence in the first edition ('Der Raum wird als eine unendliche Grofie gegeben vorgestellt') receives exactly the same rendering in English but for the italics: 'Space is represented as a given infinite magnitude.' 23 One of the reasons that might account for this extreme divergence between the 'Aesthetic' and the 'Dialectic' is that some arguments of the latter draw on the rationalistic, precritical, stage of Kant's thought. See Norman Kemp Smith, A Commentary to Kant's 'Critique of Pure Reason' (New York: Humanities, 1962), 482-3, 511-12, 520-1. 24 'Whatever is given {gegeben) us as object must be given us in intuition' {Prolegomena, § 13, Remark I, 287). 25 See A.W. Moore, The Infinite (London: Routledge, 1991), 84-95, esp. 89. 26 Compare Aquinas, Summa Theologiae, I, qs. 2,12 & 13 with Kant, CJ, § 59. 4: Schleiermacher and Absolute Dependence 1 The first and third editions are available in English. We refer to date (1799 or 1821), followed by page number of English translations. In German: Uber die Religion. Reden an die Gebildeten unter ihren Verachtern (1799), in Kritische Gesamtausgabe, 1, 2 (Berlin: de Gruyter, 1984), 185-326. 2 References are to paragraphs of the second edition (1830-1), translated as The Christian Faith. In German: Der christliche Glaube (2d ed., 1830-1; reprint, Berlin: de Gruyter, 1960). Occasionally I shall refer to the first edition (1821-2); since there is no English translation, I shall give the German title, Der christliche Glaube. According to Richard Crouter, 'Rhetoric and Substance in Schleiermacher's Revisions of The Christian Faith (1821-1822),' Journal of Religion 60 (1980): 285-306, from the 1821-2 to the 1830-1 edition there are no 'dramatic changes or reversals of thought' but rather 'subtle shifts and nuances in the argument' (293). This judgment totally concurs with Tice's in his introduction to On Religion, 27-8. Both Tice and Crouter offer us detailed comparisons between Schleiermacher's successive revisions. On this issue I find their position more convincing than Eric von der Luffs opposite opinion in his introduction to Hegel, Hinrichs, and Schleiermacher, 283, n.6. Nevertheless we must be grateful to von der Luft for translating and including in his book 'Selections from the

Notes to pages 47-51 195 First Edition of F.D.E. Schleiermacher's Christian Belief (214-38). In his review of Schleiermacher's Kritische Gesamtausgabe, which appeared in Journal of Theological Studies 39 (1988): 317-25, John Clayton lists significant but not major differences between the two editions (324-5). 3 Whereas Kant treats the sublime at length, I have found only a very brief sketch in Schleiermacher. He defines the sublime (das Erhabene) as 'the maximum of self-determination' (das Maximum von Selbstbestimmung) and he characterizes God as 'the absolutely sublime Object' (der absolut erhabene Gegenstand). See his Asthetik (1819/25); Uber den Begriffder Kunst (1831/ 32), ed. Thomas Lehnerer (Hamburg: Meiner, 1984), § XXVII, 36. 4 The three points just expounded indicate that, at least in the 1820s, Schleiermacher was familiar with some central tenets of Kant's Critique of Judgment, despite the fact that this work was not in the personal catalogue of books from his library, as Crouter notes (1799: 20, incl. n.63). 5 'Feeling is all, name is but sound and smoke.' This line from Faust is inscribed on the title page of Emil Brunner, Die Mystik und das Wort, 2nd ed. (Tubingen: Mohr, 1928), where it is set in contrast to Luther's saying, 'Verbum est principium primum.' Goethe's aphorism is also quoted by Werner Schutz, 'Schleiermacher's Theorie des Gefiihls und ihre theologische Bedeutung,' Zeitschrift fiir Theologie und Kirche 53 (1956): 76, alongside an interesting quote from Hamann: 'Das Herz schlagt friiher als unser Kopf denkt' (The heart pulses before our head thinks'). 6 No precise reference will be made here to the details of Brunner's and Barth's criticisms levelled at Schleiermacher, for the simple reason that they read him out of his actual context. See John E. Thiel, God and World in Schleiermacher's 'Dialektik' and 'Glaubenslehre,' 71-3. On Brunner's book, Die Mystik und das Wort, Thiel rightly writes: 'Brunner offers but a caricature of Schleiermacher's philosophy, regarding it as a psychologistic, idealistic philosophy of identity based not on reason but on feeling' (73). However, whereas Brunner launched an all-out attack, Barth was more nuanced, beginning with his review of Brunner's book, 'Brunners Schleiermacherbuch,' Zwischen den Zeiten No. 8 (1924): 49-64. In the last fifty years or so, partly thanks to the critical edition of several of Schleiermacher's writings, his thought has been approached as belonging to the early nineteenth century and no longer in the problematic set up by Brunner and Barth. 7 That is, beginning with the Speeches On Religion (1799). For earlier, partly different usages of the word Geftihl, see Julia A. Lamm, 'Schleiermacher's Post-Kantian Spinozism: The Early Essays on Spinoza, 1793-4/ Journal of Religion 74 (1994): 476-505, esp. 500-2, and 'The Early Philosophical Roots

196 Notes to pages 51-3 of Schleiermacher's Notion of Gefuhl, 1788-94/ Harvard Theological Review 87 (1994): 67-105. Out of the three senses of Gefuhl that she details in the latter article, two of them (i.e., the unifying factor that grounds the various faculties and the apprehension of the Infinite) are still very prominent in The Christian Faith. 8 See Schleiermacher, On the 'Glaubenslehre,' 39. 9 'Die Permanenz des religioses Gefiihls ist die Stimmung/ writes Schleiermacher in 1819. See his Asthetik, ed. Rudolf Odebrecht (Berlin: de Gruyter, 1931), 71; or Asthetik; liber den Begriffder Kunst, ed. Lehnerer, 22. 10 'Das Gefuhl ist durchaus nichts Subjecktives, wie man gewohnlich annimmt, sondern geht ebensowohl auf das allgemeine, wie auf das individuelle Selbstbewufitsein.' Dialektik (1822), § 50,288. 11 According to Richard R. Niebuhr's rendering, which corrects the Edinburgh translation; see his Schleiermacher on Christ and Religion: A New Introduction (New York: Scribner's, 1964), 123, n.91. 12 Rudolf Hermann, 'Schleiermacher II. Theologie/ in Die Religion in Geschichte und Gegenwart, ed. Hand Freiherr von Campenhausen et al. 3rd ed. (Tubingen: Mohr, 1961), vol. 5,1430. See also Rudolf Otto, Mysticism East and West, 240. 13 William A. Christian, Sr., Meaning and Truth in Religion (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1964), 46. 14 I am using the English translation of a few important passages by Eric von der Luft, which I mentioned in note 2. 15 In between the two editions, this change can be documented thanks to a passage of Schleiermacher's 1826-7 lectures on ethics. See Introduction to Christian Ethics, trans. John C. Shelley (Nashville: Abingdon Press, 1989), 73-7. 16 Paul Tillich, Perspectives on Nineteenth and Twentieth Century Protestant Theology (New York: Harper & Row, 1967), 96; see 96-9. 17 Christian, Meaning and Truth, 46. 18 Friedrich Beisser, Schleiermachers Lehre von Gott dargestellt nach seinen Reden und seiner Glaubenslehre (Gottingen: Vanderhoeck & Ruprecht, 1970), 60. 19 Thiel, God and World, 107. 20 Dialektik 1814/15,1, § 215.1; quoted by Thiel, ibid. 108. 21 Dialektik (1822), § 51 (note), 288. 22 Marianna Simon, La philosophic de la religion dans Yoeuvre de Schleiermacher (Paris: Vrin, 1974), 130-1. 23 Thandeka, 'Schleiermacher's Dialektik: The Discovery of the Self That Kant Lost,' Harvard Theological Review 85 (1992): 444. 24 Werner Schultz, 'Schleiermachers Theorie des Gefuhls und ihre theologische Bedeutung,' Zeitschrift filr Theologie und Kirche 53 (1956): 89.

Notes to pages 53-62 197 25 Dialektik (1822), § 51 (note), 288. 26 Introduction to Christian Ethics, 47. 27 See On the 'Glaubenslehre,' 55-60 and 76-80. 28 As Beisser observes (against Siiskind), the shift of emphasis from the worldconsciousness of the first edition of On Religion to the God-consciousness of The Christian Faith demonstrates Schleiermacher's intention to accentuate God's transcendence. See his Schleiermachers Lehre von Gott, 74-7. 29 Thiel convincingly argues for maintaining the traditional English rendering of schlechthinnig by 'absolute' (God and World, 138, n.64). Christian prefers 'unmixed' (Meaning and Truth in Religion, 45). Claude Welch suggests the adjectives 'utter,' 'simple,' and 'unqualified/ in Protestant Thought in the Nineteenth century, vol. I (New Haven: Yale University Press, 1972), 65. As Thiel remarks in his above mentioned note 64, the rendering 'absolute' is supported by Schleiermacher's marginal explanation, 'Schlechthinnig gleich absolut.' 30 Or better, 'a self-positing'/'a not-having-posited-oneself-thus,' as the pair is translated in Martin Redeker, Schleiermacher: Life and Thought, trans. John Wallhausser (Philadelphia: Fortress Press, 1973), 113.1 find less satisfactory the way Niebuhr renders the second member of the pair, although he usefully indicates that the first corresponds to relative freedom and the second to relative determinedness of the self. See his Schleiermacher on Christ and Religion, 122. 31 A point emphatically made in Gerhard Ebeling, Wort und Glaube, (Tubingen: Mohr, 1975), 3:119. 32 Ingolf U. Dalferth, Theology and Philosophy, 104. 33 Wayne Proudfoot, Religious Experience, 19 and 21. 34 Brunner, Die Mystik, 65. 35 See Schleiermacher, On the 'Glaubenslehre,' 97, n.9. 36 See ibid., 110, n.57, 59, and 61. 37 See ibid., 44-5. 38 'Bretschneider's View of the Theology of Schleiermacher,' Bibliotheca Sacra 10 (1853): 600. 39 For this quotation and a lucid formulation of this issue, I am indebted to the 'Translators' Introduction,' in On the 'Glaubenslehre,' 21. 40 Dalferth, Theology, 106-7. 41 Nicholas Lash, Easter in Ordinary, 127. 42 Proudfoot, Religious Experience, 20; see Lash, Easter, 127, n.63. 43 On the 'Glaubenslehre,' 44. 44 Unfortunately elsewhere translated as 'God-consciousness' (e.g., at § 4.4, a few lines before the quoted passage and at § 32.1), as if Schleiermacher were using the word, Gottbewufitsein.

198 Notes to pages 63-79 45 Dalferth, Theology, 107. 46 Two parallel quotations can be found in an earlier work of Schleiermacher, Dialektik (1814/15), I, § 215.1 and § 216.8. Statement (a): 'Along with our consciousness the consciousness of God is also given to us.' And statement (b): 'The Being of God in itself cannot be given to us.' 47 On the 'Glaubenslehre,' 45-6. 48 Dialektik (1811), § 17; E.T.: Dialectic, Lecture 17. 49 The Gefiihl is ever accompanying (immer begleitend) our acts of thinking or willing, according to Dialektik (1922), § 51 (note), 289. 50 'Translators' Introduction,' in On the 'Glaubenslehre,' 14. 51 Thiel, God and World, 130; see 228-9. 52 Dialektik (1822), § 51,292 - a passage translated by Duke and Fiorenza in On the 'Glaubenslehre,' 26. 53 Letter to Jacobi (most likely 1818), in The Life of Schleiermacher as Unfolded in His Autobiography and Letters, trans. Frederica Rowan, vol. 2 (London: Smith, Elder, 1860), 281-2. 54 On Schleiermacher's epistemology, see Louis Roy, 'Schleiermacher's Epistemology,' Method: Journal ofLonergan Studies 16 (1998): 25^46. 55 Schleiermacher's Soliloquies, 29. 56 For a deeper analysis of forms of consciousness, see Louis Roy, 'Consciousness According to Schleiermacher,' Journal of Religion 77 (1997): 217-32. 5: Hegel and the Dialectic of the Infinite 1 See Charles Taylor, Hegel (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1975), 114-15 & 240-4. 2 Quentin Lauer, Hegel's Concept of God (Albany: SUNY Press, 1982), 162. 3 S.K. Saxena, 'Hegel on the Sublime,' Religious Studies 10 (1974): 154. 4 For example, in Phenomenology (§ 689 & § 694) he locates pantheism among the lowest manifestations of natural religion, better called nature religion; in Philosophy of Religion (vol. 2,259-62) it is again discussed in the context of nature religion and defined as the doctrine 'that the infinite is immediately contained in everything' (259), or 'the finite is taken as everything' (261). However, for Hegel not all forms of nature religion are pantheistic. 5 Taylor, Hegel, 465. 6 Peter C. Hodgson, 'Georg Wilhelm Friedrich Hegel,' in Nineteenth Century Religious Thought in the West, ed. Ninian Smart, et al (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1985), 112. Kenneth L. Schmitz reaches the same conclusion in 'Substance Is Not Enough. Hegel's Slogan: From Substance

Notes to pages 79-89 199 to Subject,' Proceedings of the American Catholic Philosophical Association 61 (1987): 64. 7 On Hegel's vocabulary concerning the finite and the infinite, see Lauer, Hegel's Concept, 162-3. 8 See Martin Redeker, Schleiermacher: Life and Thought, trans. John Wallhausser (Philadelphia: Fortress Press, 1973), 102 and 153. 9 Although Hegel repudiates several turn-of-the-century themes (around 1800) as the romantics understood them, he manages to integrate them into his broad synthesis and, in this sense, actually redefines his own brand of romanticism. This is conspicuous on almost every page of his Phenomenology. See Taylor, Hegel, chap. 1, which shows that Hegel attempts to weave together the concepts of expression, self-awareness, meaning and language as expressing one's humanity, feeling of self, the demand for unity and wholeness, freedom, creativity, infinity, etc. 10 See Hodgson, ed., in Hegel, Lectures on the Philosophy of Religion, vol. 1, 268-9, n.20.1 would qualify Hodgson's point by referring to another text of the Encyclopaedia, where Hegel writes: 'Feeling as such is the general form of what is sensible; we have it in common with the animals ... feeling is the lowest form that the spiritual content can assume' (§ 19, Addition 2; see also 'Preface to the second edition,' 12). However, his recognition that feeling accompanies also our highest thoughts (Philosophy of Religion, vol. 1, 273-5) should have led him to envision it more analogically. 11 He referred to Hegel's criticisms only in his private correspondence. See 'Translators' Introduction' to On the 'Glaubenslehre,' 15, incl. n.38. 12 Hodgson, ed., in Lectures on the Philosophy of Religion, vol. 1, 280, n.37. 13 John Clayton, review of Schleiermacher's Kritische Gesamtausgabe, Journal of Theological Studies 39 (1988): 325. See also Hodgson, ed., Philosophy of Religion, vol. 1,136, n.52. 6: William James and Religious Experience 1 References to The Varieties will be given in brackets, first to the Penguin Classics edition, and second, with W preceding the page number, to the Harvard critical edition called The Works of William James (Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 1985). 2 See Ralph Barton Perry, The Thought and Character of William James (Boston: Little, Brown, 1936), vol. 1, 449-52 and 500-3; vol. 2, 326-8 and 333-5. 3 Don Browning, 'William James's Philosophy of Mysticism,' Journal of Religion 59 (1979): 65. See also James M. Edie, William James and Phenom-

200 Notes to pages 90-6 etiology (Bloomington: Indiana University Press, 1987), esp. chap. 3. 4 R.C. Zaehner, Hindu and Muslim Mysticism (Oxford: Oneworld, 1994), 80. 5 Manuscript Essays and Notes, 315-19. 6 Talks to Teachers on Psychology and to Students on Some of Life's Ideals, 132-49. 7 Thus Grace M. Jantzen, 'Mysticism and Experience,' Religious Studies 25 (1989): 295-315. In her unfavourable discussion of James's four marks, she correctly contrasts James's view with Bernard of Clairvaux's and Julian of Norwich's understanding of mysticism. But she seems to forget that other medieval mystics - such as Eckhart and Suso - were emphatic on objectless consciousness. Moreover, notwithstanding her thesis that Bernard and Julian would probably reject the four marks, she admits that they would not totally repudiate them. 8 From a letter to James H. Leuba, quoted by Martin E. Marty, in his introduction to The Varieties, xxiv. 9 Principles of Psychology, 216-18. 10 Richard Stevens, James and Husserl: The Foundations of Meaning (The Hague: Nijhoff, 1974), 28. 11 Marghanita Laski, Ecstasy: A Study of Some Secular and Religious Experiences (London: Cresset, 1961), 57. 12 Henry Suso, 'The Life of the Servant,' chap. 2 in The Exemplar, trans. Frank Tobin (New York: Paulist Press, 1989), 66. 13 Ibid., 67. 14 See also Essays in Philosophy, 133-4. 15 Wayne Proudfoot, 'From Theology to a Science of Religions: Jonathan Edwards and William James on Religious Affections,' Harvard Theological Review 82 (1989): 160. 16 Principles of Psychology, 231-62. 17 From a letter written in 1904 to James Henry Leuba. See Perry, William James, vol. 2, 349-50. 18 Lash, Easter, 130. 19 G. William Barnard, Exploring Unseen Worlds: William James and the Philosophy of Mysticism (Albany: SUNY Press, 1997), 91; see 91-4. 20 Principles of Psychology, 218. 21 Meaning of Truth, 13-14. 22 Ibid., 15. 23 'Philosophical Conceptions and Practical Results,' in Collected Essays and Reviews, 408-10. 24 The Will to Believe and Other Essays in Popular Philosophy, 21, W26. 25 Pragmatism, 44; quoted by Hunter Brown, William James on Radical Empiricism and Religion, 26. This book has considerably influenced my reading of James.

Notes to pages 96-103 201 26 Essays in Philosophy, 94; see 127-37. 27 Meaning of Truth, 126. 28 'Philosophical Conceptions,' 412. 29 Some Problems of Philosophy, 58; see 31-3. See also Meaning of Truth, 21-31, 33-4, 36, 87,117. 30 For example, Meaning of Truth, 58. 31 Pragmatism, 34-7, 82-3. 32 Meaning of Truth, 104; see 104-12. 33 Ibid., 22-3. 34 Ibid., 113. 35 Ibid., 101. 36 Ibid., 74-5. 37 See Pragmatism, 30, 96-7,102, where correspondence is reinterpreted. 38 'Philosophical Conceptions,' 434. 39 Edward C. Moore, American Pragmatism (New York: Columbia University Press, 1961), 146. 40 Pragmatism, 47. 41 James also wrestles with Kant's discussion of the infinite, for example in Some Problems of Philosophy, chap. 7, and in Manuscript Essays and Notes, 'Notes on Infinity.' However, I shall not comment on these texts, because James deals only with Kant's first Critique and does not examine Kant's third Critique, wherein reference is made to the sublime. 42 'The Moral Philosopher and Moral Life,' in Will to Believe, 214, W161. 43 Essays in Philosophy, 157-65, esp. 161-5. 44 John Henry Newman, An Essay in Aid of a Grammar of Assent, ed. I.T. Ker (New York: Oxford University Press, 1985). In The Varieties James does not refer to this work; instead, quoting from other writings, he registers his disagreement with Newman. 45 'Is Life Worth Living?' in Will to Believe, 41-2, W41. 46 Principles of Psychology, 913; see 924, 935-6,940-3. See Will to Believe, 26-8, W30-1. 47 Will to Believe, 52 and 54, W49 and 50. 48 For a sound criticism of this aspect of James's thought, based on evidence from world religions, see Barnard, Exploring Unseen Worlds, 230-61. 49 Pragmatism, 137-8. 50 Meaning of Truth, 57; see 58. 51 'The Sentiment of Rationality,' in Will to Believe, 96-7, W80. 52 Will to Believe, 60, W54; see 47,101-2,105, W45, W83-4, W86. 53 Ibid., 82, 86,107, 211-15, W70, W73, W87, W159-62. 54 According to Perry, approved by McDermott, James seems not to have made any connection between his hallucinatory experience of 1869-70 and

202 Notes to pages 103-16 the resolution of his moral crisis that took place during the same period. See John J. McDermott, The Writings of William James: A Comprehensive Edition (New York: Modern Library, 1968), xxi-xxiii and 7-8. 7: Rudolf Otto and the Numinous 1 Page references, given in parentheses, are to the English edition, entitled The Idea of the Holy, although I render der Moment by 'moment' and das Moment by 'element.' 2 Joachim Wach, Types of Religious Experience Christian and Non-Christian (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1951), 210-11. Complementary biographical elements can be found in 'Translator's Preface to the Second Edition,' in The Idea of the Holy, ix-xiv. 3 'Wie Schleiermacher die Religion wiederentdeckte,' Die Christliche Welt 17 (1903): 506-12; reprinted, with a new title, 'Der neue Aufbruch des Sensus Numinis bei Schleiermacher,' as chap. 10 of Siinde und Urschuld, und andere Aufsatze zur Theologie (Miinchen: Beck, 1932); see the English translation, 'How Schleiermacher Rediscovered the Sensus Numinis,' chap. 8 of Religious Essays. 4 Otto, introduction to Schleiermacher, On Religion, trans. Oman, vii-xx. 5 The Philosophy of Religion Based on Kant and Fries. 6 Rudolf-Otto-Arkiv, Religionskundliche Sammlung, Marburg; offered as appendix 3 in Hans-Walter Schutte, Religion und Christentum in der Theologie Rudolf Ottos (Berlin: de Gruyter, 1969), 124. Given that the last adjective in the sentence is 'conceptual,' I have substituted 'unconceptual' and 'preconceptual' for 'unconceptional' and 'preconcertional,' which are obvious misprints. See The Idea of the Holy, 135. 7 Schutte, ibid., 125. 8 In an earlier book, Otto also recognizes various degrees of intensity while repeatedly accentuating 'exaltation' and 'enthusiasm.' See his Naturalism and Religion, 13. 9 Hans W. Frei, Types of Christian Theology, ed. George Hunsinger and William C. Placher (New Haven: Yale University Press, 1992), 71. 10 Schutte, appendix 3,123. 11 Naturalism and Religion, 2. 12 See also Mysticism East and West: 'not conceptions but ideograms' (246), 'no longer any concept, only the ideogram' (247). 13 Philip C. Almond, Rudolf Otto: An Introduction to his Philosophical Theology (Chapel Hill: University of North Carolina Press, 1984), 97; see 76. 14 McPherson perceptively remarks that Otto shifts between two uses of

Notes to pages 116-27 203 'concept' and 'conceptualize': a 'philosophical' or 'abstract' one, and a 'much wider' one, characteristic of language in general. See Thomas McPherson, 'Religion as the Inexpressible,' in New Essays in Philosophical Theology, ed. Anthony Flew and Alasdair Maclntyre (London: SCM Press, 1955), 135. In my opinion, this oscillation depends on the lack of distinction I have just mentioned. 15 For more detailed discussions, see Otto, Das Geftihl des Uberweltlichen (Sensus Numinis) (Munich: Beck, 1931), chap. 2; Religious Essays, chap. 12. 16 On this point I am indebted to William J. Wainwright, 'Otto, Rudolf,' in The Encyclopedia of Philosophy, vol. 6 (New York: Macmillan, 1972), 14. Unfortunately, elsewhere in this article, he misreads several aspects of Otto's thought. 17 David Bastow, 'Otto and Numinous Experience,' Religious Studies 12 (1976): 166. 18 Antoine Vergote, 'Equivoques et articulation du sacre,' in he Sacre, ed. Enrico Castelli (Paris: Aubier-Montaigne, 1974), 474: Terreur semantique qui passe de l'adjectif au substantif et lui attribue un referent reel.' See also 473. 19 Soren Holm, 'Apriori und Urphanomen bei Rudolf Otto,' in Rudolf Otto's Bedeutungfur die Religionswissenschaft und die Theologie heute, ed. Ernst Benz (Leiden: Brill, 1971), 72-3 and 77. 20 Ibid., 81. 21 See The Philosophy of Religion, 16-20. 22 Robert F. Davidson, Rudolf Otto's Interpretation of Religion (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1947), 179 and 180. 8: Marechal, Rahner, and Lonergan 1 See Heythrop Journal 37,1 (1996). 2 Excerpts translated into English are offered in A Marechal Reader. 3 Cahier V, 448; Marechal Reader, 185. 4 Melanges Joseph Marechal, vol. 1, 75-101; Marechal Reader, 248. 5 Cahier V, 313; Marechal Reader, 151. 6 See Gerald A. McCool, The Neo-Thomists (Milwaukee: Marquette University Press, 1994), chap. 6, 'Joseph Marechal/ esp. 127-35. 7 Marechal Reader, 247. 8 'On the Feeling of Presence in Mystics and Non-Mystics/ in Studies, chap. 2. 9 See Jure Kristo, 'Human Cognition and Mystical Knowledge: Joseph Marechal's Analysis of Mystical Experience/ Melanges de Science Religieuse 37 (1980): 53-73, esp. 54-5, 58 (incl. n.4).

204 Notes to pages 127-35 10 Studies, 86; his italics. 11 Studies, 135; his italics. 12 'Science empirique et psychologie religieuse'; 'Empirical Science and Religious Psychology,' in Studies, chap. 1, 51. 13 For a balanced survey, see Bernard McGinn, The Foundations of Mysticism, 297-302. 14 'Vraie et fausse mystique,' Nouvelle Revue Theologique 67 (1945): 275-95, at 282-3. 15 'Thomas Aquinas on Truth,' Theological Investigations (TI), 13:24. 16 Ibid., 25. 17 Hearer of the Word, 153. 18 Foundations of Christian Faith, 83; see 83-4, 119-20. 19 'Experience of Transcendence from the Standpoint of Christian Dogmatics,' TI 18:179-80. 20 'Experience of the Holy Spirit,' TI 18:196. See 'The Concept of Mystery in Catholic Theology,' TI 4:36-73, esp. Second Lecture. 21 TI 18:197. 22 'The Experience of God Today,' TI 11:157. 23 Foundations, 132. 24 'Reflections on the Experience of Grace/ TI 3:87. Rahner gives a similar list in 'Experience of the Holy Spirit/ TI 18: 200-3 and in The Spirit in the Church, 19-22 (a different English translation of the same German text). 25 TI 18:199-200. 26 'Religious Feeling inside and outside the Church,' TI 17:236. 27 'The Experience of God Today,' TI 11:157. 28 References will be given in brackets to Insight and Method in Theology. 29 James Price, 'Typologies and the Cross-Cultural Analysis of Mysticism: A Critique,' in Religion and Culture: Essays in Honor of Bernard Lonergan, S.J.,

ed. Timothy P. Fallon, S.J., and Philip Boo Riley (Albany: SUNY Press, 1987), 181-90. 30 Occasionally Lonergan mentions a fifth level but many Lonergan scholars play down (rightly so, in my opinion) its theoretical significance. See Michael Vertin, 'Lonergan on Consciousness: Is There a Fifth Level?' Method: Journal of Lonergan Studies 12 (1994): 1-36. 31 Terry J. Tekippe and Louis Roy, 'Lonergan and the Fourth Level of Intentionality,' 225-42. 32 In his abstract of "The Concept of the Unrestricted in the Thought of Bernard Lonergan,' Proceedings of the American Catholic Philosophical Asso-

ciation, 55 (1981): 169, Paul Schuchman points out that the key adjective for Lonergan is not 'infinite,' but 'unrestricted.' In chapter 91 shall use the

Notes to pages 135-7 205 adjective 'indefinite' in the same sense as Lonergan's 'unrestricted' human dynamism. 33 Lonergan goes further than Marechal in that he does not highlight the intentional only but also thematizes the self-conscious (which Marechal ignores to a degree). See Michael Vertin, 'Marechal, Lonergan, and the Phenomenology of Knowing,' in Creativity and Method: Essays in Honor of Bernard Lonergan, S.J., ed. Matthew L. Lamb (Milwaukee: Marquette University Press, 1981), 411-22. 34 I am indebted for this realization to an author who discerns an intriguing isomorphism between Lonergan's fourfold consciousness in the experience of transcendence and Ricoeur's four mythic-symbolic explorations of the presence of transcendence. See Emile J. Piscitelli, 'Paul Ricoeur's Philosophy of Religious Symbol: A Critique and Dialectical Transposition,' Ultimate Reality and Meaning 3 (1980): 275-323, esp. 304-12. 35 Dietrich von Hildebrand, Ethics (Chicago: Franciscan Herald Press, 1953). The distinction originally comes from Max Scheler: Gefiihlszustand (an emotional state caused by an instinctual drive) and intentionales Geftihl (a feeling related to an intentional referent). 36 Victor Basch, Essai critique sur I'esthetique de Kant, 2d ed. (Paris: Vrin, 1927), 51-66; Jean Maisonneuve, Les sentiments (Paris: Presses Universitaires de France, 1969), 6-8; Jerome Neu, Emotion, Thought and Therapy (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1977), 1-3, 80-95; Robert R. Williams, Schleiermacher the Theologian: The Construction of the Doctrine of God (Phila-

delphia: Fortress Press, 1978), 24-5. 37 Hildebrand, Ethics, 197: 'Nihil volitum nisi cogitatum' (Nothing is willed unless it be thought). 38 Ibid., 192-211, 228-35. 39 See the above quoted article, 'Lonergan and the Fourth Level of Intentionality,' especially the remarks on Lonergan's indebtedness to Scheler and von Hildebrand, 225, 229-31. For a different construal of this indebtedness, see Mark J. Doorley, The Place of the Heart in Lonergan's Ethics: The Role of Feelings in the Ethical Intentionality Analysis of Bernard Lonergan (Lanham:

University Press of America, 1996). 40 On affective states, see Elizabeth A. Morelli, 'The Feeling of Freedom,' in Religion and Culture, 96-8. 41 My use of 'second immediacy' differs from Robert M. Doran's in Subject and Psyche: Ricoeur, Jung, and the Search for Foundations (Washington:

University Press of America, 1977). What he calls 'primordial immediacy' corresponds to my second immediacy. While this primordial immediacy is direct in the sense that it is 'the presence of the subject to himself (114), it

206 Notes to pages 137-51 is at the same time indirect in the sense that the subject inevitably situates this presence within a context of meaning. Both Lonergan and Doran fail to mention this. Doran's definition of second immediacy reads: 'Second immediacy is the result of method's objectification of primordial immediacy' (118). But how can it still be a case of immediacy, since it is objectified? My concept of second immediacy points to a stage halfway between first immediacy and complete objectification: the immediacy that has been mediated by a meaning which is not fully thematized. See also his Psychic Conversion and Theological Foundations: Toward a Reorientation of the Human Sciences (Chico, CA: Scholars Press, 1981), 161-2. 9: Basic Concepts I 1 On the importance of entering into the problems that exceed description and classification, see Louis Dupre, 'Phenomenology of Religion: Limits and Possibilities,' in Religious Mystery and Rational Reflection: Excursions in the Phenomenology and Philosophy of Religion (Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmans, 1998), 3-18. 2 Michael J. Oakeshott, Experience and Its Modes (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1978), 9. 3 Hans-Georg Gadamer, Truth and Method, 69; see 60-70. 4 Ibid., 61. 5 Ibid., 70. 6 Ibid., 357. 7 Ibid., 63-4, incl. n.121. 8 See the (unfortunately incomplete) indices to Uber die Religion (Hamburg: Meiner, 1958) and Der christliche Glaube (2nd ed., 1830-1; reprint, Berlin: de Gruyter, 1960). 9 James, Manuscript Essays and Notes, 21. 10 For instance, Wilhelm Poll, Das religose Erlebnis und seine Strukturen (Munich: Kosel, 1974), esp. 24-32, and Hermann Schrodter, Erfahrung und Transzendenz: Ein Versuch zu Anfang und Methode von Religionsphilosophie (Altenberge: CIS, 1987), esp. 58-63. 11 Theological Investigations (TI), 18:93, note. 12 Andre Godin, Psychologie des experiences religieuses (Paris: Centurion, 1981), 266. E.T.: The Psychological Dynamics of Religious Experience (Birmingham, AL.: Religious Education Press, 1985), 252. 13 See R.R. Reno, The Ordinary Transformed: Karl Rahner and the Christian Vision of Transcendence (Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmans, 1995). 14 Lash, Easter, 251. 15 Ibid., 245.

Notes to pages 151-5 207 16 In Existence humaine et transcendance (Neuchatel: Baconniere, 1944), Jean Wahl coins the noun 'transascendance' to designate human existence's movement towards God, as opposed to 'transdescendance,' the movement towards the demonic. 17 1 draw mainly from Being and Time and The Basic Problems of Phenomenology (lectures given in 1927). The treatment of transcendence and intentionality that Heidegger offers in these lectures is more extensive than the one given in his Sein und Zeit, which was completed the year before. Such writings are typical of the early Heidegger; but with Richardson (and with Heidegger himself in his preface to Richardson's book) I would stress the continuity between the early and the later Heidegger. See William J. Richardson, Heidegger: Through Phenomenology to Thought, 3rd ed. (The Hague: Nijhoff, 1974), 623-33; on transcendence and intentionality, see 35-41, 178-82. 18 Being and Time, H. 48 (H. refers to pages of the German edition, given in the margins of the English translation). See Index of English Expressions, 'Intentional' and 'Transcendence.' 19 Heidegger, Being and Time, H. 363. 20 Heidegger, Basic Problems, 65; see 61-5,162. 21 Heidegger, The Metaphysical Foundations of Logic, 168. 22 Ibid., 135; see 128-36. 23 Poetry, Language, Thought (New York: Harper & Row, 1971), 26 and 79. 24 Basic Problems, 299. 25 'On the Essence of Ground,' in Pathmarks, 127 (Heidegger's italics). 26 See Basic Problems, 294-313. 27 Pathmarks, 126. 28 Ibid., 109. 29 Richardson, Heidegger, 165-7. 30 Although he does not reject this question, Heidegger does not take it to be his philosophical task to discuss it. In 'On the Essence of Ground,' he declares: 'The ontological interpretation of Dasein as being-in-the-world decides neither positively nor negatively concerning a possible being toward God. Presumably, however, the elucidation of transcendence first achieves an adequate concept of Dasein, and with respect of this being it can then be asked how things stand ontologically concerning the relation of Dasein to God' (Pathmarks, 371, n.62). 31 Jean-Paul Sartre, L'etre et le neant (Paris: Gallimard, 1943), 708; see 652-4. Being and Nothingness, trans. Hazel E. Barnes (New York: Philosophical Library, 1956), 615; see 566. 32 Gabriel Marcel, Having and Being: An Existentialist Diary (Gloucester: Smith, 1976), 117.

208 Notes to pages 155-66 33 In stressing the complementarity between reason and the heart, problem and mystery, I have departed from Marcel's excessive opposition. See Lonergan, Method in Theology, 101-7,115-16 and 344-5. 34 Hans-Georg Gadamer, 'Religion and Religiosity in Socrates,' chap. 3 of Proceedings in the Boston Area Colloquium in Ancient Philosophy, ed. John J. Cleary, vol. I (Washington, DC: University Press of America, 1985), 54-5. 35 Method in Theology, 88; see 341-2; A Second Collection, \2\-A. 36 Critique of Pure Reason, A11-12; B 25. 37 David Tracy, Blessed Rage for Order: The New Pluralism in Theology, with a new Preface (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1996), 93,98 and 105-9. I hope that the fact that Tracy does not take account of Kant's distinction for his purposes, he does not have to - is not confusing here. He calls Timit-to' and Timit-of' the two sides of what Kant calls the boundary (or bounds). 38 Stephen Toulmin, An Examination of the Place of Reason in Ethics (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press), chap. 14. 10: Basic Concepts II 1 Hence, in the 'Editor's Introduction' to Schleiermacher's Dialectic, Terrence N. Tice's balanced sentence: 'Although in today's terms perhaps what he means by "feeling" can be fruitfully thought of as a specific kind of knowing, this is not, in my view, supportable in terms of Schleiermacher's own concept of knowing' (xix). 2 'On a Certain Blindness in Human Beings,' in Talks to Teachers on Psychology, 132-49, at 138-9. 3 Charles Davis, Body as Spirit: The Nature of Religious Feeling (New York: Crossroad, 1976), 25; see his chap. 1. My position on feeling is by and large the same as his, except that I do not find his distinction between feeling and emotion helpful for my purposes. 4 Philosophy of Existence (Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press, 1971), 17-19. 5 David Hay, Exploring Inner Space: Scientists and Religious Experience (Harmondsworth, GB: Penguin, 1982), 184. 6 Valla, Les etats etranges de la conscience, 52, 63-8. 7 Strasser, Phenomenology of Feeling: An Essay on the Phenomena of the Heart, trans. Robert E. Wood (Pittsburgh: Duquesne University Press, 1977), 190-4. 8 Ibid., 369. 9 In his Dialektik (1822), § 51 (note), 289, Schleiermacher writes: 'In it [Gefiihl] we therefore have the analogy with the transcendent ground, namely the sublating connection of the relative oppositions.'

Notes to pages 167-76 209 10 The Foundations of Mysticism, 288-9, with reference to Rahner, 'Experience of Transcendence from the Standpoint of Catholic Dogmatics,' in 7718, 177-9. 11 Stace, Mysticism and Philosophy, 111. 12 Ibid., 31. 13 'Language, Epistemology and Mysticism,' in Mysticism and Philosophical Analysis, ed. Steven T. Katz, 22-74. See his pieces and those of others in the three follow-up volumes by same editor. 14 I am drawing this vocabulary from Peter Moore, 'Mystical Experience, Mystical Doctrine, Mystical Technique,' in Katz, ed., Mysticism and Philosophical Analysis, 101-31, at 108. However, I do not accept his concept of 'raw experience' and I do not think the adjective 'reflexive' is felicitous. As indicated in chapter 7 (concerning Otto's criticism of Schleiermacher) and as (I hope) made evident in chapters 8-10, in transcendent experience, the discovery is more than a reflexive act upon some raw experience. 15 Davis, The Evidential Force of Religious Experience, 159,161. 16 Ibid., 162-3. 17 G. William Barnard, Exploring Unseen Worlds: William James and the Philosophy of Mysticism (Albany: State University of New York Press, 1997), 128. 18 Deirdre Green, 'Unity in Diversity,' Scottish Journal of Religious Studies 3 (1982): 50-1. 19 James Robertson Price HI, 'The Objectivity of Mystical Truth Claims,' 86. 20 Ibid., 93. 21 See his books in Bibliography. On Katz and Forman, see Michael C. McLaughlin, 'Lonergan and the Evaluation of Theories of Mystical Experience.' I am grateful to Rev. Robert Croken, S.J., of the Lonergan Research Institute, in Toronto, for helping me discover this interesting dissertation. 22 John E. Smith, 'In What Sense Can We Speak of Experiencing God?' Journal of Religion 50 (1970): 229-44, reprinted in The Challenge of Religion: Contemporary Readings in Philosophy of Religion, ed. Frederick Ferre (New York: Seabury, 1982), 199-212; 'The Tension between Direct Experience and Argument in Religion,' Religious Studies 17 (1981): 487-97. 23 For example, William P. Alston, Perceiving God: The Epistemology of Religious Experience (Ithaca: Cornell University Press, 1991). 24 On the issue of private language, see J.N. Findlay, Wittgenstein: A Critique (London: Routledge & Kegan Paul, 1984), 216-21. 25 See J. Brenton Stearns, 'Mediated Immediacy: A Search for Some Models,' International Journal for Philosophy of Religion 3 (1972): 198-9. 26 Richard J. Bernstein, Praxis and Action (Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press, 1971), 187. 27 Philip C. Almond, Mystical Experience and Religious Doctrine, 185.

210 Notes to pages 176-86 28 Most of the time perennialists accept directness and fall into perceptualism, whereas constructivists reject it and fall into idealism. Typical of the latter is Alistair Kee, The Way of Transcendence: Christian Faith without Belief in God (Harmondsworth: Penguin Books, 1971), 18: 'There is no direct experience of God, only experiences which are interpreted in a religious manner.' 29 Sebastian Moore, 'ER. Leavis: A Memoir,' Method: Journal ofLonergan Studies 1 (1983): 220. 30 John Baillie, Our Knowledge of God (London: Oxford University Press, 1939), 178. 31 Hegel, Lectures on the Philosophy of Religion, vol. 1,413. Conclusion 1 Karl Rahner, 'Mystical Experience and Mystical Theology/ Theological Investigations, 18:96.

Selected Bibliography

Almond, Philip C. Mystical Experience and Religious Doctrine: An Investigation of the Study of Mysticism in World Religions. Berlin: Mouton, 1982. Berger, Peter. A Rumor of Angels: Modern Society and the Rediscovery of the Supernatural. Garden City, NY: Doubleday, Anchor Books, 1970. Brown, Hunter. William James on Radical Empiricism and Religion. Toronto: University of Toronto Press, 2000. Dalferth, Ingolf U. Theology and Philosophy. Oxford: Blackwell, 1988. Davis, Caroline Franks. The Evidential Force of Religious Experience. Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1989. Dufrenne, Mikel. The Phenomenology of Aesthetic Experience. Trans. Edward S. Casey et al. Evanston: Northwestern University Press, 1973. Forman, Robert K.C., ed. The Innate Capacity: Mysticism, Psychology, and Philosophy. New York: Oxford University Press, 1998. - Mysticism, Mind, Consciousness. Albany: SUNY Press, 1999. - ed. The Problem of Pure Consciousness: Mysticism and Philosophy. New York: Oxford University Press, 1990. Gadamer, Hans-Georg. Truth and Method. Trans. Joel Weinsheimer and Donald G. Marshall. 2d ed. New York: Crossroad, 1991. Hegel, G.W.F. Aesthetics: Lectures on Fine Art. Trans. T.M. Knox. 2 vols. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1975. - The Difference between Fichte's and Schelling's System of Philosophy. Trans. H.S. Harris and Walter Cerf. Albany: SUNY Press, 1977. - Encyclopaedia of Philosophical Sciences, Part I (§§ 1-144). Trans. T.F. Geraets, W.A. Suchting, and H.S. Harris. Indianapolis: Hackett, 1991; Part II (§§ 245376). Trans. A.V. Miller. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1970; Part III (§§ 377-577). Trans. William Wallace and A.V. Miller. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1971.

212 Selected Bibliography Faith and Knowledge. Trans. Walter Cerf. Albany: SUNY Press, 1977. - Foreword to 'Religion in Its Internal Relationship to Systematic Knowledge/ by Hermann Hinrichs. In Hegel, Hinrichs, and Schleiermacher on Feeling and Reason in Religion: The Texts of Their 1821-22 Debate. Ed. Eric von der Luft. Lewiston, NY: Mellen Press, 1987. - Lectures on the Philosophy of Religion. Ed. Peter C. Hodgson. 3 vols. Berkeley: University of California Press, 1984-7. - Phenomenology of Spirit. Trans. A.V. Miller. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1977. - Philosophy of Right. Trans. T.M. Knox. London: Oxford University Press, 1952. - Reason in History: A General Introduction to the Philosophy of History. Trans. Robert S. Hartman. New York: Macmillan, 1953. - Science of Logic. Trans. A.V. Miller. Atlantic Highlands, NJ: Humanities, 1969. Heidegger, Martin. The Basic Problems of Phenomenology. Trans. Albert Hofstadter. Rev. ed. Bloomington: Indiana University Press, 1988. - Being and Time. Trans. John Macquarrie and Edward Robinson. San Francisco: Harper, 1962. - The Metaphysical Foundations of Logic. Trans. Michael Heim. Bloomington: Indiana University Press, 1984. - Pathmarks. Ed. William McNeill. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1998. James, William. Collected Essays and Reviews. New York: Russell, 1969. - Essays in Philosophy. Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 1978. - Manuscript Essays and Notes. Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 1988. - The Meaning of Truth. Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 1975. - Pragmatism. Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 1975. - The Principles of Psychology. 3 vols. Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 1981. - Some Problems of Philosophy. Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 1979. - Talks >o Teachers on Psychology and to Students on Some of Life's Ideals. Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 1983. - The Varieties of Religious Experience: A Study in Human Nature. Ed. Martin E. Marty. New York: Longmans, Green, 1902. Reprint, New York: Penguin, 1985. - The Will to Believe and Other Essays in Popular Philosophy. New York: Longmans, Green, 1897. Reprint, New York: Dover Publications, 1956. Kant, Immanuel. Anthropology from a Pragmatic Point of View. Trans. Mary J. Gregor. The Hague: Nijhoff, 1974. - Critique of Judgement. Trans. James Creed Meredith. Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1989.

Selected Bibliography 213 - Critique of Pure Reason. Trans. Norman Kemp Smith. New York: Saint Martin's Press, 1965. - 'First Introduction to the Critique of Judgment.' In Critique of Judgment. Trans. Werner S. Pluhar. Indianapolis: Hackett, 1987. - Observations on the Feeling of the Beautiful and Sublime. Trans. John T. Goldthwait. Berkeley: University of California Press, 1991. - Opus postumum. Trans. Eckart Forster and Michael Rosen. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1993. - Prolegomena to Any Future Metaphysics. Trans. Lewis White Beck. New York: Macmillan/Library of Liberal Arts, 1950. - Religion within the Limits of Reason Alone. Trans. Theodore M. Greene and Hoyt H. Hudson. New York: Harper & Row, 1960. Katz, Steven T., ed. Mysticism and Language. New York: Oxford University Press, 1992. - Mysticism and Philosophical Analysis. New York: Oxford University Press, 1978. - Mysticism and Religious Traditions. New York: Oxford University Press, 1983. - Mysticism and Sacred Scripture. New York: Oxford University Press, 2000. Lash, Nicholas. Easter in Ordinary: Reflections on Human Experience and the Knowledge of God. Charlottesville: University Press of Virginia, 1988. Lonergan, Bernard J.F. Insight: A Study of Human Understanding. Ed. Frederick E. Crowe and Robert M. Doran. Toronto: University of Toronto Press, 1992. - Method in Theology. Toronto: University of Toronto Press, 1992. - A Second Collection. Ed. William F.J. Ryan and Bernard J. Tyrrell. Philadelphia: Westminster, 1975. - Verbum: Word and Idea in Aquinas. Ed. Frederick E. Crowe and Robert M. Doran. Toronto: University of Toronto Press, 1997. Marechal, Joseph. Etudes sur la psychologie des mystiques. 2 vols. Paris: Desclee de Brouwer, 1924; Brussels: L'edition universelle, 1938 (2d ed.), 1937. - A Marechal Reader. Trans. Joseph Donceel. New York: Herder, 1970. - Melanges Joseph Marechal. Vol. 1. Paris: Desclee de Brouwer; Brussels: L'edition universelle, 1950. - Le Point de depart de la metaphysique. 5 vols. 2d ed. Paris: Desclee de Brouwer; Brussels: L'edition universelle, 1927-49. - Studies in the Psychology of the Mystics. Trans. Algar Thorold. Albany: Magi Books, 1984. McGinn, Bernard. The Foundations of Mysticism: Origins to the Fifth Century. New York: Crossroad, 1991. McLaughlin, Michael C. 'Lonergan and the Evaluation of Theories of Mystical Experience.' Unpublished PhD Thesis, University of St Michael's College, Toronto, 1995.

214 Selected Bibliography Otto, Rudolf. The Idea of the Holy: An Inquiry into the Non-Rational Factor in the Idea of the Divine and Its Relation to the Rational. Trans. John W. Harvey. 2d ed. London: Oxford University Press, 1950. - Mysticism East and West: A Comparative Analysis of the Nature of Mysticism. Trans. Bertha L. Bracey and Richenda C. Payne. London: Macmillan, 1932. - Naturalism and Religion. Trans. J. Arthur Thomson and Margaret R. Thomson. London: Williams & Norgate, 1907. - The Philosophy of Religion Based on Kant and Fries. Trans. E.B. Dicker. London: Williams & Norgate, 1931. - Religious Essays: A Supplement to 'The Idea of the Holy.' Trans. Brian Lunn. London: Oxford University Press, 1931. Price, James Robertson, III. "The Objectivity of Mystical Truth Claims.' The Thomist 49 (1985): 81-98. Proudfoot, Wayne. Religious Experience. Berkeley: University of California Press, 1985. Rahner, Karl. Foundations of Christian Faith. Trans. William Dych. New York: Crossroad, 1984. - Hearer of the Word. Trans. Joseph Donceel. New York: Continuum, 1994. - The Spirit in the Church. Trans. John Griffiths. New York: Seabury, 1979. - Spirit in the World. Trans. William Dych. New York: Continuum, 1994. - Theological Investigations. 23 vols. New York: Crossroad, 1961-92. Roy, Louis. Le Sentiment de transcendance: experience de Dieu? Paris: Cerf, 2000. Schleiermacher, Friedrich. Der christliche Glaube. 1st ed., 1821-2. Ed. H.J. Birkner. Vol. 7 of Kritische Gesamtausgabe. Berlin: de Gruyter, 1980. - The Christian Faith. Ed. H.R. MacKintosh and J.S. Stewart. Edinburgh: T. and T. Clark, 1986. - Dialektic or, The Art of Doing Philosophy: A Study Edition of the 1811 Notes. Ed. Terrence N. Tice. Atlanta: Scholars Press, 1996. - Dialektik (1814/15), Einleitung zur Dialektik (1833). Ed. Andreas Arndt. Hamburg: Felix Meiner, 1988. - Dialektik (1822). Ed. Rudolf Odebrecht. Darmstadt: Wissenschaftliche Buchgesellschaft. Reprint, 1988. - On the 'Glaubenslehre': Two Letters to Dr. Liicke. Trans. James Duke and Francis Fiorenza. Chico: Scholars Press, 1981. - On Religion: Addresses in Response to Its Cultured Critics. Trans. Terrence Tice. Richmond, VA: John Knox Press, 1969. - On Religion: Speeches to Its Cultured Despisers. 1st German ed. Trans. Richard Crouter. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1988. - On Religion: Speeches to its Cultured Despisers. 3d German ed. Trans. John

Selected Bibliography 215 Oman. New York: Harper & Row, 1958. Reprint, Louisville: Westminster,' Knox Press, 1994. - 'Selections from the First Edition of F.D.E. Schleiermacher's Christian Belief.' In Hegel, Hinrichs, and Schleiermacher on Feeling and Reason in Religion. Ed.

Eric von der Luft. Lewiston, NY: Nellen Press, 1987. - Soliloquies. Trans. Horace Leland Friess. Chicago: Open Court, 1957. Stace, Walter T. Mysticism and Philosophy. Philadelphia: Lippincott, 1960. Tekippe, Terry and Louis Roy. 'Lonergan and the Fourth Level of Intentionality,' American Catholic Philosophical Quarterly 70 (1996): 225-42. Thiel, John E. God and World in Schleiermacher's 'Dialektik' and 'Glaubenslehre.' Bern: Lang, 1981. Valla, Jean-Pierre. Les etats etranges de la conscience. Paris: Presses Universitaires de France, 1992. Zaehner, R.C. Mysticism Sacred and Profane: An Inquiry into Some Varieties of Praeternatural Experience. Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1957.

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Index

Absolute dependence, 57-9 Aesthetic estimation. See Transcendent experience Almond, Philip, 11 Aquinas, Thomas. See Thomas Aquinas Awareness: of the 'Whence,' 59-64; and Otto, 117-18 Beisser, Friedrich, 52 Bounds. See Limits Bretschneider, Gottlieb, 61 Brunner, Emil, 61 Bultmann, Rudolf, 5 Burke, Edmond, 28-9, 39 Caravan, Guy, 20 Cassirer, H.W., 33 Consciousness: four levels, 132-5 Constructivism, 171-3 Conversion, xiii, 133; and religious experience, 139^0 Crowther, Paul, 34, 39 Dalferth, Ingolf, 60-4 Davis, Caroline, 169-70 Davis, Charles, 208 n.3

Directness: and mediation, 175-81 Discovery, 6-7,146,162,164,173-5, 178,182; according to four models, 15-16,18, 21, 23-4 Divine: as an undubitable object, 99-101 Dufrenne, Mikel, 5-8 Duke, James (and Fiorenza, Francis), 65 Emerson, Ralph Waldo, 90 Emotion. See Feeling Experience. See Transcendent experience Feeling, 5-6,146,152,173,4178,195 n.5,196 n.10; according to four models, 15-16,18, 21, 23; compared with emotions, 106-9; and discovery, 161-6; by Feuerbach, 76-7; of fulfillment, 154; and knowledge, 137; by Lonergan, 135-7; by Schleiermacher, 51-4; and thought, 92-5 Finite. See Infinite Finitude. See Infinite Frei, Hans, 109

218 Index Fruit, xiii, 8-9,146,186-7; according to four models, 16,19,21,24 Gadamer, Hans-Georg, 146-9,155 God: God-consciousness, 54-5; knowledge of God, 59-60; 173-4, 185 Godin, Andre, 149 Grace, 181; vehicle of transcendent experiences, xii Greeley, Andrew, 4 Guyer, Paul, 35-6, 38 Heaney, John, 190 n.4 Hegel, 156-60,179-80,199 n.9 Heidegger, 9, 24,153-4, 207 n.17, 207 n.30 Hildebrand, Dietrich von, 136-7 Hodgson, Peter, 79 Holy, 109-10; as a priori category, 116-20 Horizon, 165 Husserl, 133,184 Imagination, 157-8 Immediacy. See Mediation Ineffability, 91 Infinite 40-4; and indefiniteness, 78, 136-60 Intentionality: fourfold structure, xii, 133-5; and transcendence, 151-6 Interpretation, 8,105,146,179,182; according to four models, 16, 18-19, 21, 24; common-core model, 167; contrasted to numinous consciousness, 120-3; and feeling, 92-5; located between numinous and erotic, 115; non-rational vs. rational, 111-16

Jacobi, 66-7, 83-4 James, William, 121,149-50,163-4, 179, 201 n.41, 201-2 n.54 Jantzen, Grace, 200 n.7 Jones, Jamila, 21-2 Judgment: aesthetic, 33-5,193 n.18. See also Reflection Kant, 47-8, 70-82, 87-8, 99,113-15, 122,125-6,156-60 Katz, Steven, 168-9,171 Koestler, Arthur, 16-20 Lash, Nicholas, 150-1, 62,94 Lazaroff, Allan, 30 Lebrun, Gerard, 38 Limits, 44,208 n.37 Lonergan, Bernard, 132-41,152-3, 177-9, 204-5 n.32-4 Magnitude: described by Kant, 37-8 Marcel, Gabriel, 155 Marechal, Joseph, 125-8 Mediation (mediatedness), 54-6, 129,138,175-81; and immediacy, 137-9; second immediacy, 205-6 n.41 Moore, Peter, 209 n.14 Moustakas, Clark, 14-15 Mysterium, 114 Mystery, xii, 128-30,155 Mysticism: inward, 90; mystical consciousness, 100-1; nature, 90; outward, 10-11; sensations, 99-100 Newman, John Henry, 100-1 Noetic quality, 91,164. See also Revelatory capacity Numinous, 110-11

Index 219 Oakeshott, Michael, 146 Objectification: and experience, 64-7 Occasion, 5,146,178,190 n.5; according to four models, 15,18,21,23 Otto, Rudolf, 10-12, 81,163-4 Panentheism, 77,198 n.4 Passivity. See Receptivity Perception: by Hegel, 73; by James, 92 Perennialists, 210 n.28 Plenitude. See Feeling of fulfillment Praeternatural phenomena: contrasted with transcendent experiences, 4 Pragmatic method, 95-8 Preparation, 5,146,173,178-9; according to four models, 15,18, 21,23 Price, James, 133,171-2 Proudfoot, Wayne, 60, 62, 93 Rahner, Karl, 128-32,186 Ramsey, Ian T., 6-7 Receptivity, 147-9; and activity, 58 Reflection: by Hegel, 74; by Kant, 32-3 Revelatory capacity, 104,150 Ricoeur, Paul, xiv, 190 n.8 Rogozinski, Jacob, 40-2

161-2,194-5 nn.2-4 Simon, Marianna, 53 Smith, John, 209 n.22 Space: and time, 42-3 Stace, Walter, 12,167-8 Stevens, Richard, 91 Sublime: dynamic, 29; mathematical, 29, 37-4, Suso, Henry, 92 Taylor, Charles, 77 Thiel, John, 52-3,197 n.29 Time. See Space Thomas Aquinas, 128-9,140 Totality, 164-5 Toulmin, Stephen, 159 Tracy, David, 3,158-9, 208 n.37 Transcendence (transcending), 71; and intentionality, 151-6 Transcendent experience, 40-3, 92; defined, 4,140,149; distinguished from transcendental, 156; experience as noetic and emotional, 164-5; negative experience, 131-2; types, 9-13; universal, 35 Trevor, J., 100 Wach, Joachim, 105 Will to believe, 101-3 Zaehner, R.C., 4,11-12, 90

Schematization, 113 Schleiermacher, 11-12, 82-8, 93-4, 106-10,112-13,116-18, 120-4, 148,