In the Yoga Sutras, Patanjali lists three acceptable forms of knowledge: direct experience, logical inference (based on the experience), or testimony from a trusted source. To me, this is a sound epistemology. The order in which the three sources of knowledge are listed goes from the most reliable to the least. We trust our own experiences first, then what we can deduce or induce from them, and lastly, the accounts of others. In the last is traditionally included scriptural sources. In most religions, this important order is turned on its head: the most important knowledge is that which exists in the scriptures, then what is inferred from them, then individual experience. Absurd! But the Sutras are essentially a mystic text, full of methods to bring about religious experiences for one’s self. Therefore experience is considered primary.
The above thoughts are leading me to conclude that we must take the heights of religious speculation, presented as infallible dogma which we call scripture, with a sizable chunk of salt. I believe that scripture still has value, but most of its value is in its description of religious or mystic experience itself. The interpretations of these experiences must be carefully weighed, preferably in light of our own experience. Nothing should be taken as canon, as absolute, or infallible. We may also find value in scripture when it contains actual mystic techniques used to obtain religious experience. Here tradition is useful, as it is more likely that a method be tried and true than the metaphysic based on it. Based on these ideas, we may refine our list of religion’s claims of knowledge to a much shorter list, and each item should be kept distinct:
1) Descriptions of the experiences of the founder.
2) His interpretations of his experience (which includes the cultural information which informs it). This may include the actions of the founder, for instance, giving to the poor, as these are the result of conclusions reached by his own primary experience. Ie. if one experiences God as love, and one then reasons that one should therefore love one’s neighbor, charity should be considered an interpretation, rather than a religious experience in its own right.
3) Others’ interpretations of his experience.
4) Recorded methods of attaining direct experience.
If scripture or tradition does not contain the above, we must either discard it or generously consider it to be either a purely cultural artifact (like literature) or a philosophy as open to criticism as Descartes or Plato.
Perhaps someone out there is asking themselves “but what about faith?” It would be a bit much to tackle this exhaustively here, but I think its important to address in connection to the above. St. Paul famously defined faith as “the substance of things hoped for, the evidence of things not seen.” (Heb 11:1). But this clearly won’t satisfy any but the most credulous mind. I may hope for Santa Claus, but that hope cannot in any way be characterized by evidence of his existence. Similarly, the faith of billions is not evidence. The experience of billions would be, however, if it could be reliably replicated by others. But we can also say we have faith in something known and real – we might have faith in ourselves. This is confidence in the face of the unknown. Walking into an unknown situation, faith in one’s self is helpful, especially when based on evidence. Faith in this sense means “believing something likely, though it is presently unknown or uncertain, based on our prior experience.” We might immediately notice the similarity of this idea of faith to our idea of an “educated guess”, or inductive reasoning, and ultimately we can’t do without it. Faith in our methods is certainly crucial in investigating anything (faith in the scientific method is necessary to really pursue science), but I must reiterate that faith is not evidence. Faith is a temporary measure that bridges the gap between the known and unknown, at least until the unknown becomes the known. This only happens through experience, and therefore I must conclude that religious faith can never be a source of knowledge, and that religious experience is the only real form of religious knowledge.
The next step, and I think it is an important one, is to separate the actual content of experience from the theologies that spring from them. For instance, we can separate the idea of God from the experience of God. Perhaps I have an experience of something which appears to me to be eternal, or to be full of being, knowledge and bliss. When I come down from my altered state of consciousness, I then ask myself “what the hell was that?” I might well suppose it to be God, especially if I’ve heard about the supposed characteristics of God from others. If we belong to a particular religious tradition, it’s likely I would then relate my experience to scripture and tradition. Such adherence to a tradition may well even color the experience itself, so that this experience (which we might tentatively call God) takes on certain characteristics during or after the fact, becoming Shiva, or Jesus, or God the Father. The fact that few believers have experiences that contradict their own scriptures, but may contradict those of other faiths makes me suppose that the conclusions reached by others (inherited metaphysics) may limit, or even shape the experiences of those who hold their beliefs as dogma. In order to get at the actual, objective thing that is experienced as ‘God’ or whatever you choose to call it, we have to first separate the experience itself from whatever is layered upon it, especially a restrictive pie-in-the-sky metaphysic. In order to do this, we must cultivate a new methodology to generate religious experience that is not dependant on metaphysics. Such a methodology would have some rather serious implications. For one, morality that is based upon scripture and induction, for instance the Christian notion that morality is based on divine commandment and law, would be rejected insomuch as it claims to be absolute. This would not necessarily lessen the beneficial implications of such ideas as “thou shalt not kill”, but such ideas cannot necessarily rest on the idea of divinity. Any such behavioral prescriptions would be suspect so far as they claim to be based on the idea of “what God wants.” Unless, of course, you heard God command such yourself.
But that just raises more questions. Even direct religious experience is full of traps and pitfalls. The modern neo-pagans are a great example of people working in the mystic tradition to achieve knowledge of deity. But they too quickly can make themselves silly, as when High Priest #1 has a vision of Apollo that tells him to build a replica of the oracle of Delphi in his basement and that he shall be placed in charge of the millions who are about to return to the ancient religion of Greece. It gets worse when High Priest #2 has his own vision of Apollo that tells him that High Priest #1 is a fraud and that he should build his own oracle in the shed behind his mom’s house. Assuming that both individuals are truthful in their claims, the content of their religious knowledge differs. What is a High Priest to do?
Reconstructist Pagans (probably the more intellectual of the bunch), who are trying to literally reconstruct the extinct religion of their choice or ancestry, have come up with an interesting solution to this problem. They regard “the lore” as paramount, including primary sources from the period in question (for instance, Hesiod, Homer, Plutarch, etc, among the Greek reconstructionists), and treat matters of personal revelation as ‘Unsubstantiated Personal Gnosis,’ usually shortened to ‘UPG.’ This is treated as suspect, until it is ‘verified’ by others, or it becomes too emotionally convincing to stay objective about. Of course, this treatment creates the same problems as religious metaphysics of the mainstream religions – personal experience is subordinated to some kind of scriptural canon. This problem is often exacerbated in reconstructionism in that the religion in question went extinct at some point, and often much of the textural context has been lost to history. In a group like the Norse Reconstructionists, there is a terrible lack of primary sources, and what remains to work with often enough comes down through descriptions of the pagans by Christian monks, who were clearly not impartial. The tradition, wary of ‘UPG’, and having little to base their reconstruction on, may well feel rather incomplete (as is anything in the process of being reconstructed.) This is not to say the endeavor is not worthwhile, but its difficulties must be addressed honestly.
The real question, and one I don’t have anything resembling an adequate answer to, is how can we judge primary religious knowledge ('UPG')? By what standards can we critique such experiences? My intuition tells me that Carl Jung may have been one of the few who tackled this area, but that’s a whole different can of worms.
Clearly this is a bigger job than any one blogger can take on. If you’ve actually read this far, I’d love to hear your thoughts!
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