Nasr’s Doctrine of Humankind’s “Fall”

November 18th, 2009

In my last planned and on-topic post, the “The Mutual ‘Inness’ of the Human and the Divine” of September 30th, I said that in the next planned and on-topic post I would have something to say about the “fall” and our having “become forgetful beings” that we had seen Nasr speaking about. As has been the case before, my promise was some 200% or more of what it should have been. In this post, then, I will deal only with the “fall,” and then not completely, letting the asserted fact of our having “become forgetful beings” wait until a later post.

Nasr brought up the “fall” and our resultant “forgetfulness” in the following passage (The Garden of Truth, pp. 5-6):

The answer to the question “who are we?” is related in a principial manner to our ultimate reality in God, a reality that we have now forgotten as a result of the fall from our original and primordial state and the subsequent decay in the human condition caused by the downward flow of time. We have become forgetful beings, no longer knowing who we are and therefore what our purpose is in this life. But our reality in God, who resides at the depths of our being, is still there. We need to awaken to this reality and to realize our true identity, that is, to know who we really are.

Taking up the cause, the “fall,” and for the time being leaving aside the effect, the “forgetfulness,” as a first observation, we need to note that Nasr’s “fall” is not to be identified with the “fall” of orthodox Christian doctrine. The latter, for one thing, is thought of as the result of the disobedience of the first humans, Adam and Eve. As Nasr notes later in The Garden of Truth (p. 54), however:

Islam does not believe in original sin, but it does emphasize our fall from our primordial state, that primordial nature we still bear deep within ourselves.

Rather, the “fall” of which Nasr speaks corresponds, in at least one central respect, to the creation of mainstream orthodox Christian and mainstream orthodox Muslim theology. That is, just as, in the latter understanding, it is with creation that we begin our incarnate or embodied existence, so, in Nasr’s, it is with the “fall” that we begin our incarnate or embodied existence. One point of difference, of course, is that, in the perspective of the mainstream orthodox theologies, we begin our existence tout court when we begin our incarnate or embodied existence. For Nasr’s Sufism, on the other hand, our existence tout court does not begin when we begin our incarnate or embodied existence; our existence tout court is without beginning.

Cutting a bit more deeply, according to the one view, we are created, ultimately, ex nihilo or out of nothing. But according to the other, we need to keep in mind, there is ultimately only one being, God (as was underlined in the June 28th post, “Nasr’s Gnosis and ‘Theomonism’”). Our fall, then, from our “primordial state,” in which state we were in fact identical with God and so existing, must therefore be a fall from a state of existing to one of not existing, ad nihilo.

Cutting a bit more deeply still, for the two mainstream orthodox theologies, creation and its result are good. But this is not so for Nasr’s gnosticism. In the continuation of the passage from The Garden of Truth (p. 54) quoted above, we find Nasr saying:

We are separated from this [primordial] nature by layers of forgetfulness and imperfection, by veils that can only be removed by God’s Help. And it is precisely these veils, or ontological separation from our Source, that result in what theologically is called evil. It is to these veils with which we usually associate ourselves that the Sufi saint of Basra, Rābi‘ah, was referring when she said, “Alas, my son, thine existence is a sin wherewith no other sin can be compared.”
Metaphysically one can explain the reality of evil as separation from the absolute Good.

Now, we can see that in Nasr’s ontology the thesis that there is but one existent entails the thesis that nothing other than the one is existent; in other words, not being identical with the one existent, God, is simply not being. We might well expect that, in his axiology, i.e., in his theory of value or of the good and bad, the parallel thesis that there is but one good would entail with the thesis that nothing other than the one good is good; in other words, not being identical with the one good, God, is simply not being good. Nasr actually goes further: his thesis is that everything other than the one good is, not merely not good, but evil.

As I have said at least once or twice before in the course of examining Nasr’s version of Sufism, questions abound, even if we grant him his extraordinary theomonist ontology. One that I think should be asked is that of by whose decision and agency we are changed from the primordial state to the fallen state, ours or God’s. It seems to me to be inexplicable in either case.

Another question that I think should be asked is that of to what good purpose or end we have become fallen. As the very term “fall” suggests, we are in are in a worse situation as fallen than we were beforehand. In this respect his “fall” contrasts rather unfavorably with the perspective of the mainstream orthodox theologies, for in being created we have at least gained existence.

We need to remember, of course, that the “fall” does not represent the end of the “journey” of which, in the June 30th post, “Where We Are Coming from and Where We Are Going to: 1,” we saw Nasr speak (The Garden of Truth, p. 6):

According to Sufi metaphysics, and in fact other metaphysical traditions in general, all that exists comes from that Reality which is at once Beyond-Being and Being, and ultimately all things return to that Source. In the language of Islamic thought, including both philosophy and Sufism, the first part of this journey of all beings from the Source is called the “arc of descent” and the second part back to the Source the “arc of ascent.” Within this vast cosmic wayfaring we find ourselves here and now on earth as human beings. Moreover, our life here in this world is a journey within that greater cosmic journey of all existents back to the Source of all existence.

This does not help. We are told that “ultimately all things return to that Source.” From this it follows that ultimately all humans return to that Source. After pausing to note that it really follows that all humans return to that Source, we surely have to ask what has been gained from this “journey” “through the “arc of descent,” “our life here in this world,” and the “arc of ascent”? We have simply returned to the starting point.

There must be more.

In future posts we will have occasion to delve more thoroughly into Nasr’s axiology of the good and the bad. A more fundamental inquiry will also need to be made into his monistic or theomonistic ontology. Most readers will have already taken note of the kinship that it has with that of the Parmenides and his rejection of the reality of change and multiplicity. I am beginning to gather my thoughts on the achievements, and the opposite, of that great philosophical pioneer.

***

If you wish, you can easily purchase The Garden of Truth through Amazon.com by clicking on:

The Garden of Truth: The Vision and Promise of Sufism, Islam’s Mystical Tradition

In the Beginning Were We: The Matter of Our Pre-Eternal Existence

October 13th, 2009

In my previous planned and on-topic post, the “The Mutual “Inness” of the Human and the Divine” of September 30, I said that in this post I would “have something to say about the ‘fall’ and [about] our having ‘become forgetful beings’” that I quoted Nasr speaking about. I think now, however, that before I do that, it will be better if in this post I take up Nasr’s thesis that we have a “pre-eternal existence,” a thesis that he brought up before he brought up the “fall” and our “forgetfulness.” Our temporal existence, after all, would be the existence we have after the fall in question.

Nasr brings up our “pre-eternal existence” in the following paragraph (The Garden of Truth, p. 5), already quoted in the previous post.

Not only were we created by God, but we have the root of our existence here and now in Him. When we bore witness to His Lordship as mentioned in the Quranic verse, “Am I not your Lord?” the world and all that is in it were not as yet created. Even now we have our pre-eternal existence in the Divine Presence, and we have made an eternal covenant with God, which remains valid beyond the contingencies of our earthly life and beyond the realm of space and time in which we now find ourselves.

He has not, at least up to this point in The Garden of Truth, offered us a full spelling out of just what “pre-eternal” means in his vocabulary. But it is clear, from the claim that “[w]hen we bore witness to [God…] the world and all that is in it were not as yet created,” that we existed, that we were, when creation took place. Let me hypothesize, that is, that he holds that, enjoying a “pre-eternal existence,” we existed “in the beginning.” Or, let me put it the other way around: “in the beginning were we.”

I am, of course, hypothesizing that there is a parallel between Nasr’s understanding of human beings, even in our plurality (thus the “we”), and the understanding of the “Word,” i.e., Jesus, expressed in the Gospel of John, 1:1 and 1:2.

In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God. He was with God in the beginning.

(I have used the “New International Version” translation, at: http://www.biblegateway.com/passage/search=John+1&version=NIV)

I don’t know to what degree the parallel is intentional or to what degree it can be extended. I have no reason, at least as of now, to think that Nasr thought that we human beings, even in our plurality, have a role in creation that the Gospel of John 1:3 assigns to the “Word” or Jesus:

Through him all things were made; without him nothing was made that has been made.

Yet, it seems clear, in the beginning were we. And there is more. As the Nasr paragraph quoted above quite unambiguously says, we clearly were and are with God, “in the Divine Presence.” There is moreover, the thesis of Nasr, which I have dubbed theomonism, according to which there is, “ultimately,” but one and only one real being and that being is God. Someone adhering to that thesis is saying (on the further assumption that we in fact exist) that we are God. (I discuss Nasr’s theomonism in the “The Mutual “Inness” of the Human and the Divine” of September 30th and earlier in the “Nasr’s Gnosis and “Theomonism” of June 28th, 2009.)

Nasr, in other words and in summary, could have said:

In the beginning were we, and we were with God, and we were God. We were with God in the beginning.

There is yet more. In a previously discussed (in the “Where We Are Coming from and Where We Are Going to: 6″ of August 23) paragraph (The Garden of Truth, p. 7), Nasr himself draws explicit attention to the parallel:

Now, no matter how we seek to go back to the origin of our consciousness, we cannot reach its beginning in time, and the question again arises what our consciousness, its origin, and its end are. The spiritual practices of every authentic path, including Sufism, enable those who follow and practice them earnestly and under the appropriate conditions to gain new levels of consciousness and ultimately to become aware that consciousness has no beginning in time (but only in God) because “in the beginning was consciousness,” and it has no temporal end because “in the end is consciousness.”

Questions abound. What is the relationship of the consciousness of which he speaks and the conscious being(s) having that consciousness? What is the relationship of that consciousness to the Word of Christian theology? What is the relationship of that consciousness to Muhammad? What is the relationship of the Word of Christian theology to Muhammad? Etc. I am not yet prepared to answer them (though I have my hypotheses). But you may rest assured that I aim to do so in the future.

In my next planned and on-topic post, I will have something to say about Nasr’s theses of our “fall,” I assume we may put it, “out of” God and our having “become forgetful beings” as a consequence that I raised in the September 30th post.

***

If you wish, you can easily purchase The Garden of Truth through Amazon.com by clicking on:

The Garden of Truth: The Vision and Promise of Sufism, Islam’s Mystical Tradition

The Mutual “Inness” of the Human and the Divine

September 30th, 2009

In my previous planned and on-topic post, the “Where We Are Coming from and Where We Are Going to: 6” of August 23, I distinguished between two distinct, as I was then thinking, understandings, of the nature of God, the human, and the relation of the human to God, as two distinct potential metaphysical foundations for gnosticism.

One of the two understandings, I said, is contained in the thesis that I have identified (in the June 28th, 2009, post, “Nasr’s Gnosis and ‘Theomonism’”) as theomonism, the thesis that the divine being is the one and only real being. In “Where We Are Coming from and Where We Are Going to: 6” I offered the following argument against that thesis, an argument the validity of which is quite evident and the soundness of which is, if not quite as quite evident, immediately adjacent to being so.

1. If there is anything that is in any way other than the one and only divine being (if such latter there indeed is), then the one and only divine being is not the only being.

2. There is something that is in some way other than the one and only divine being (I offer my own being as evidence; you can offer yours).

3. Therefore, the one and only divine being is not the only being.

It follows that, since it is false, the thesis of theomonism cannot serve as a basis for the doctrine of gnosticism.

I closed “Where We Are Coming from and Where We Are Going to: 6” by saying that in the post that ended up being the present one I would “take a look at the other of the two distinct understandings … as a second potential metaphysical foundation for gnosticism, different [from theomonism] but also figuring prominently in The Garden of Truth.” This understanding, encapsulated in the title of today’s post, “The Mutual ‘Inness’ of the Human and the Divine,” can be put a bit more explicitly as: God is in us and we are in God.

Nasr’s statement of the thesis of the mutual “inness” of the human and the divine is contained in a sequence of three densely packed paragraphs (The Garden of Truth, pp. 5-6). In the first of these three paragraphs, we read:

[Sufism] provides, within the spiritual universe of the Islamic tradition, the light necessary to illuminate the dark corners of our soul and the keys to open the doors to the hidden recesses of our being so that we can journey within and know ourselves, this knowledge leading ultimately to the knowledge of God, who resides in our heart/center.

By journeying within ourselves, we journey to God, who resides in, and therefore is in, our “heart/center.”

The next paragraph distinguishes between the being in God which we both have eternally had and even now have and the created being which we also have now. It reads:

Not only were we created by God, but we have the root of our existence here and now in Him. When we bore witness to His Lordship as mentioned in the Quranic verse, “Am I not your Lord?” the world and all that is in it were not as yet created. Even now we have our pre-eternal existence in the Divine Presence, and we have made an eternal covenant with God, which remains valid beyond the contingencies of our earthly life and beyond the realm of space and time in which we now find ourselves.

That is, we have been and are in God.

Besides introducing two other key themes, that of a “fall” and that of our having “become forgetful beings,” the next paragraph confirms both of the beings in, ours in God (“our reality in God”) and God’s in us (“God, who resides at the depths of our being”).

The answer to the question “who are we?”is related in a principial manner to our ultimate reality in God, a reality that we have now forgotten as a result of the fall from our original and primordial state and the subsequent decay in the human condition caused by the downward flow of time. We have become forgetful beings, no longer knowing who we are and therefore what our purpose is in this life. But our reality in God, who resides at the depths of our being, is still there. We need to awaken to this reality and to realize our true identity, that is, to know who we really are.

Now to the point of the present post and the reason why I have had second thoughts about holding that the thesis of the mutual “inness” is distinct from that of theomonism: if by “in” is meant “entirely in” and if the sense in which the one is in the other is the same as the sense in which the other is in the one, then if there is an existent a and an existent b such that a is in b and b is in a, then a and b must be at least co-extensive. And the thesis that the human, in its true identity, is at least co-extensive with the divine is consistent with, indeed implied by, the theomonist thesis.

It seems to me that both the theomonist thesis that only the divine is real and thus that, if we are real, we are identical with the divine and the thesis of mutual “inness,” such that we and God are at least co-extensive, provide all too simple answers to the question of how humans can enjoy an immediate and direct knowledge of the divine, the “beatific vision,” in this life. If identity or co-extensiveness were sufficient conditions of knowledge, then the coffee cup to which I have turned so frequently this morning would know itself.

In the next planned and on-topic post, I will have something to say about the “fall” and our having “become forgetful beings” that Nasr speaks about.

***

If you wish, you can easily purchase The Garden of Truth through Amazon.com by clicking on:

The Garden of Truth: The Vision and Promise of Sufism, Islam’s Mystical Tradition

Logic and the Argument from Evil: The Argument

September 12th, 2009

In my previous post I set forth those rudiments of logic that are needed if one is to see that the validity of the argument from evil against the existence of an absolutely perfect god, but not its soundness, is perfectly evident. In this post I will put those rudiments of logic to use.

David Hume, in Part X of his Dialogues Concerning Natural Religion, after giving due credit for it to Epicurus, presents the argument from evil in the form of a series of questions:

Is he [i.e., God] willing to prevent evil, but not able? Then he is impotent. Is he able, but not willing? Then he is malevolent. Is he both able and willing? Whence then is evil?

If we put things in a more strictly argumentative form and so revised as to bring in divine knowledge, we have:

If the perfect (and therefore perfect in knowledge, perfect in love, and perfect in power) God exists, then evil cannot exist. But evil does exist. Therefore, the perfect God does not exist.

It is only, however, when we spell it out as follows, expressing both a previously unexpressed but necessary premise and the inferences made to reach the conclusion, that we reach the degree of explicitness that makes its validity patently evident.

1. If the perfect God exists, then evil cannot exist. (Premise)
2. Evil does exist. (Premise)
3. If evil does exist, then evil can exist. (Premise)
4. Therefore, evil can exist. (From propositions 3 and2, by Modus Ponens)
5. Therefore, it is not the case that evil cannot exist. (From proposition 4, by Double Negation)
6. Therefore, it is not the case that the perfect God exists. (From propositions 1 and5,
by Modus Tollens)

That the argument is a valid argument is utterly evident. It is not, however, equally evident that it is sound, because it is not evident that all of the premises are true. One might, it is true, want to say that the third premise, according to which, “if evil does exist, then evil can exist,” is quite evident, for whatever is actual has to be possible. But one might also want to say that it is not evident, for it involves the metaphysics of modality, i.e., of actuality, possibility, necessity, and impossibility, and, one might want to say, the adoption of that metaphysics requires its own justification.

Surely, however, the second premise, that “evil does exist,” cannot simply be taken as evident. A philosophical materialist, holding that only that which can be known through the physical sciences is to be considered real, would deny that evil or even, more simply, the bad has an objective existence; no review, no matter how assiduous, of the index of a physics textbook would turn up either the term “evil” or the term “bad. Some significant argumentation, perhaps a great deal of argumentation would be needed, it seems, to render it evident that evil or the bad, or for that matter the good, exists objectively.

The truth of the first premise is also not fully evident, though neither is its falsehood. At this stage in my thinking on the matter, I will have to content myself with saying that there have been, over the centuries, a great many efforts having as their goal the demonstrating either that the premise is true or that it is false and that, to my knowledge, there has been complete success in neither direction.

I plan, at various points in a fairly indefinite future, to engage in a thorough study of axiomatics, the theory or science of “value,” or the good and the bad. Only then, in my judgment, will I be able to say anything of real worth about the truth or falsity of the first two premises of the argument from evil.

Post Scriptum: If we use “K” to abbreviate “the divine is perfect in knowledge,” “L” to abbreviate “the divine is perfect in love,” “P” to abbreviate “the divine is perfect in power,” and “E” to abbreviate “evil exists,” the following truth table, representing all pertinent possibilities, obtains:

KLPE
TTTT
TTTF
TTFT
TTFF
TFTT
TFTF
TFFT
TFFF
FTTT
FTTF
FTFT
FTFF
FFTT
FFTF
FFFT
FFFF

(I apologize for not yet knowing how to set forth truth-table in a more readable form within the blog.)

The first row, that of TTTT, represents the classical theistic view, whether that of Christianity or that of Islam. The second row represents the view that attempts to solve the problem of evil by denying that evil exists, while retaining the thesis of a god perfect in knowledge, love, and power. The remaining rows represent attempts at solving the problem by denying one, two or all three of the ways at hand in which the divine might be perfect. Thus the third row represents the view, which would be one of a liberal theology, which holds that there is a perfect god, one perfect in knowledge and love, though not in power. And the fifth row represents the view, which would be one of a conservative theology, which holds that there is a perfect god, one perfect in knowledge and power, though not in love.

The fifteenth and sixteenth rows represent two versions or atheism, one of which does and one of which doesn’t admit the objective reality of evil. The fourteenth row represents a truly terrifying version of theism, with a god that is nothing but unguided power.

Logic and the Argument from Evil: Logic

September 12th, 2009

In my previous post I said that in this one I would present the argument from evil, against the existence of an absolutely perfect god, as an illustration of how an argument can be such that its validity, but not its soundness, is perfectly evident. My plans have changed, but only slightly. That is, in this post I will spell out those rudiments of logic which are necessary to the ready seeing that the validity, but not the soundness, of the argument from evil is perfectly evident. In the next post, next but already posted, I will put that logic to use. If, therefore, you are familiar with the logician’s distinction between validity and soundness and with such types of argument as Modus Ponens, Modus Tollens, and Double Negation, you may want to pass over this post and proceed directly to the next one.

First, then, an argument is a set of propositions one of which, the conclusion, is said to be the case because the other or others, the premise or premises, is or are the case. For example:

If I am in North Andover, then I am in Massachusetts.
I am in North Andover.
Therefore, I am in Massachusetts.

I hasten to add that here the name “North Andover” refers to the North Andover that is a town on the Merrimack River, and that the name “Massachusetts” refers to the state in which at least the lower portion of the Merrimack is located. I do so in order to avoid the possible confusion with another North Andover and another Massachusetts, should such there be.

Next, a valid argument is an argument the conclusion of which follows necessarily from the premise or premises. More fully, a valid argument is an argument either (a) of which the conclusion must be true if the premise is or the premises are true or (b) of which the conclusion, though false, would have been be true if the premise or the premises had been true. The argument given above is an example of a valid argument, as is any argument which, like the following, has the same structure:

If you are in Cairo, then you are in Egypt.
You are in Cairo.
Therefore, you are in Egypt.

Arguments of this kind are known traditionally as Modus Ponendo Ponens (Modus Ponens, for short), the Way of Affirming by Affirming.

Another kind of valid argument is the one known traditionally as Modus Tollendo Tollens (Modus Tollens, for short), the Way of Negating by Negating, or Denying by Denying. Examples of Modus Tollens are:

If I am in North Andover, then I am in Massachusetts.
I am not in Massachusetts.
Therefore, I am not in North Andover.

If he is in Cairo, then he is in Egypt.
He is not in Egypt.
Therefore, he is not in Cairo.

On the other hand, an invalid argument, or a fallacious argument or, again, a fallacy, is an argument the conclusion of which can be false even if (a) the premise is or the premises are true or (b) could have been false even with (b) the premise or premises being true. For example:

If I am in North Andover, then I am in Massachusetts.
I am in Massachusetts.
Therefore, I am in North Andover.

Were I sitting in Winchester, Massachusetts, the two premises of this argument would still both be true while the conclusion would be false. The truth of the premises of an argument of this structure does not necessitate the truth of the conclusion.

Another example, with the same premises, but with a negative conclusion:

If I am in North Andover, then I am in Massachusetts.
I am in Massachusetts.
Therefore, I am not in North Andover.

As I am sitting, as I write, in North Andover, Massachusetts, the two premises here are both true while the conclusion is false. The truth of the premises of an argument of this structure does not necessitate the truth of the conclusion.

The latter two arguments are examples of the argument type known as the Fallacy of Affirmation of the Consequent; the “consequent” is the “then” clause of an “if…then…” proposition, in the last sample argument, the “I am in Massachusetts” of the first premise.)

Another type of fallacious argument is the argument type known as the Fallacy of Denial of the Antecedent; the “antecedent” is the “if” clause of an “if…then…” proposition, in the next sample argument, the “I am in North Andover” of the first premise:

If I am in North Andover, then I am in Massachusetts.
I am not in North Andover.
Therefore, I am not in Massachusetts.

Were I not in North Andover, the two premises of this argument would still both be true while the conclusion could be false. The truth of the premises of an argument of this structure does not necessitate the truth of the conclusion.

Another example of this fallacy, having an affirmation as its conclusion, is:

If I am in North Andover, then I am in Massachusetts.
I am not in North Andover.
Therefore, I am in Massachusetts.

Were I not in Massachusetts, the two premises of this argument would both be true while the conclusion would be false. The truth of the premises of an argument of this structure does not necessitate the truth of the conclusion.

A sound argument is a valid argument the premise of which is true or the premises of which are true; it follows that the conclusion will also be true. Given that, as I write, I am sitting in North Andover, the argument

If I am in North Andover, then I am in Massachusetts.
I am in North Andover.
Therefore, I am in Massachusetts.

is sound. The premises implying the conclusion are both true, as is, therefore, the conclusion.

An unsound argument is either a valid argument of which at least one premise is false or an invalid argument. Because I am at present writing in Massachusetts, an example of a valid argument of which at least one of the premises is false, and which is therefore unsound, is:

If I am in Cairo, then I am in Egypt.
I am in Cairo.
Therefore, I am in Egypt.

Another example, this one of an argument that is unsound because it is invalid, is:

If I am in Cairo, then I am in Egypt.
I am in North Andover.
Therefore, I am in Egypt.

An argument can be invalid and thus unsound even if the premises and the conclusion all happen to be true.

If I am in Cairo, then I am in Egypt.
I am in North Andover.
Therefore, I am in Massachusetts.

Though I am in Massachusetts, it is not because of the two conjoined facts that if I am in Cairo I am in Egypt and that I am in North Andover.

There are infinitely other types of valid argument. To illustrate, one is known as Contraposition:

If I am in Andover, then I am in Massachusetts.
Therefore, if I am not in Massachusetts, then I am not in Andover.

The Hypothetical Syllogism is an argument form that shows up often in ordinary reasoning:

If I am in Andover, then I am in Massachusetts.
If I am in Massachusetts, then I am in the U.S.A.
Therefore, I am in Andover, then I am in the U.S.A.

We’ll look at just two more, both versions of “Double Negation,” one of which will be used in the next post’s statement of the Argument from Evil.

Double Negation

I am in North Andover.
Therefore, it is not the case that I am not in North Andover.

and

It is not the case that I am not in North Andover.
Therefore, I am in North Andover.

The Definition of God: A Reply

September 5th, 2009

My friend and colleague Craig Looney has posted a comment (on my August 26th, 2009th post, “On My Motivation in Seeking a Demonstration That There Is or There Is Not a God”) that warrants a response in the form of a post, more visible than a comment on a comment would be. He begins by speaking of “a couple of it issues that fuzzy up the project of finding a proof of the existence or non-existence of ‘God.’” This post is devoted to the first of these issues, which he spells out as:

[1] The term “God” can mean a wide range of things. In order to even ask the question, it is necessary to define the properties (or ranges of properties) of the God that is to be proved or refuted. This may seem obvious, but many people advance a God that is “beyond definition,” or “the thing that is no thing,” etc. These God concepts are likely beyond logical proof/refutation, and are often beyond empirical testing (but see below).

If we define God as someone who can fly, kill people by pointing at them, etc (that is, as something a primitive culture might view as a deity) then God already exists, because we can outfit a person with a jetpack and a machine gun.

On the other hand, if we define God as all powerful and indestructible, then such a God is a logical impossibility, “for if it can destroy itself it is not indestructible, and if it can’t destroy itself then it isn’t all-powerful.

Craig is absolutely right that in saying that “The term ‘God’ can mean a wide range of things” and that “in order to even ask the question, it is necessary to define the properties (or ranges of properties) of the God that is to be proved or refuted.” In this post, therefore, I will begin to deal with the matter of what a god is, if there is one, or would be, if there were one. The raising of this question of the demonstrability of the existence or non-existence of a god has come, however, at an earlier point in the life of this blog than I had foreseen or laid the groundwork for; Nasr does not directly address it in The Garden of Truth. So I am approaching even as basic a matter as the definition of a god with some diffidence and reserving the right to revise later what I have to say now.

That being said, the god the existence of which can be demonstrated must of course be a “logical possibility.” Thus “the thing that is no thing,” taken thus baldly, is clearly not something that can be demonstrated to exist. In fact, contra Craig, its existence can be immediately refuted, for, applying the Principle of Non-Contradiction, no being or existent can be both a thing and not a thing, in any one respect and at any one time. Of course, if by “the thing that is no thing” we actually mean “the being that is no physical thing,” the immediate refutation just given is no longer relevant.

Going with Craig a bit deeper, a god that is “all powerful and indestructible” is indeed “a logical impossibility,” for, as he says, “if it can destroy itself it is not indestructible, and if it can’t destroy itself then it isn’t all-powerful.” But all is not lost here, for that observation does not rule out as logically impossible an indestructible god that is, not simply all-powerful, but, to use a formulation that is perhaps good enough for the time being, capable of doing all that is possible. (I say “perhaps good enough for the time being” because there is much in “capable of doing all that is possible” that begs for further elucidation, e.g., just what does the “doing” or activity of a god consist in.)

Now if it exists, the god of which I have said, in the post immediately previous to this one, that I hope it exists and fear it does not and the existence of which I hope to eventually prove or disprove is an absolutely perfect being, an ens perfectissimum. From this and some allied assumptions it follows that it is a being absolutely perfect in knowledge, in love and will, and in power, and perhaps in yet other things (e.g., aesthetic appreciation of the beautiful). (All this is said in full awareness that there is much that needs to be made explicit in just what a perfect being might be and even more so in just what a being perfect in knowledge, in love and will, and in power might be.)

That’s on the one hand. On another hand, in the immediately previous post I made reference to an argument for the existence of a god, the validity of which is evident, though its soundness is not. That argument is not one that makes use of “perfect being” or “being perfect in knowledge, in love and will, and in power” as the operative definition. A variation of the kind of argument evident in the first two of Thomas Aquinas’s quinque viae, it has as a point of departure a definition of a god looking something like this: “an efficient cause of all other beings and effect of no other,” i.e., an “uncaused cause.” All this needs spelling out and that such a being would in fact be perfect requires further demonstration. So too would the thesis that that god is unique, not just a god, but the god.

On a third hand, if I may, in the immediately previous post I also made reference to an argument for the non-existence of a god, the validity of which argument is evident, though its soundness is not. This argument, known as the argument “from evil,” does make use of a conception of a god as a “being perfect in knowledge, in love and will, and in power.”

Setting my review of The Garden of Truth aside a bit longer, in my next post I will spell out the argument from evil in the way that I think it has to be spelled out.

On My Motivation in Seeking a Demonstration That There Is or There Is Not a God

August 26th, 2009

A good friend of mine, and a reader of this blog (the unkind might say that the second descriptor can only apply if the first one does), sent me the following comments and question (lightly edited) via email.

As usual it was good to see you and to have the discussions. I still remember the one in your back yard a couple of years ago. Anyway, I had a thought concerning your seeking a logical proof that god does or does not exist. Besides the fact that this question has been a devoted cause of a great many determined thinkers, there is the real problem of defining what is meant by the term logical. My question is – have you asked yourself why this is such an important issue to you. In short why are you asking the question?

The first sentence refers to a couple of extensive and intensive discussions that he, another good friend and conversation partner, and I had with several others at a social gathering this past Saturday evening. The third sentence refers to my having stated and maintained, in the course of the discussions, the following. First, I want to know, and not just believe, either that there is or that there is not a god, or absolutely perfect being. That is, if there is a god, I want to know, and not just believe, that there is, via a proof that there is, a proof as absolutely and rigorously valid and sound as any to be found in, to look towards that which is generally accepted as the “gold standard” of proof, mathematics. And, if there isn’t a god, I want to know, and not just believe, that there isn’t, via a similarly absolutely and rigorously valid and sound proof. There, in “absolutely and rigorously valid and sound,” lies my understanding of what a “logical” proof is.

The fourth sentence, noting accurately that “[definitively answering] this question [of the existence of a god] has been a devoted cause of a great many determined thinkers,” has as its backdrop the skeptical or agnostic claim that neither the affirmative nor the negative answer to the question of the existence of a god can be proven to be true. This scepticism was shared by both the agnostics who took part in Saturday evening’s conversations and the fideists (fideism, as I use the term, is the thesis that belief, in matters of theology, on the basis of faith can be a justified belief). I for my part maintained that, while I could well accept as plausible, indeed likely, a claim that there has as a matter of fact been no proof in either the affirmative or the negative, I knew of no absolutely and rigorously valid and sound argument proving that there cannot, as a matter of principle, be one.

I could have added more specifically that I am aware of both at least one argument, concluding that there is a god, the validity of which is perfectly evident and at least one argument, concluding that there is no god, the validity of which is perfectly evident. I do not, however, know of any argument, the soundness of which is so evident, concluding that there is a god nor do I know of any argument, the soundness of which is so evident, concluding that there is no god.

I notice that in this post I have been making use of the logician’s technical distinction between “validity” and “soundness” as if it were obvious to all. In the relatively near future, then, I plan to post an explanation of the distinction, so that we are all “on the same page.” I will in addition, to illustrate the distinction, spell out a valid argument, the classical “argument from evil,” the conclusion of which is that there can be no god, or absolutely perfect being. And I will spell it out in such a way that its validity will be perfectly evident, even while its soundness is not.

But now, then, towards an answer to the question posed: I have indeed asked myself why this question of the existence of a god is such an important issue to me. I do not, however, actually have anything like a full answer. As a preface to the minimalist answer that I am now prepared to give, let me note that, from the point of view of science, mathematics, and philosophy, the question of the personal motives of the scientist, the mathematician, or the philosopher are of but secondary interest; the conclusion arrived at and the logical rigor of the steps taken to arrive at it are the matters of primary concern. If I may dare to compare the case of a much the lesser yours truly with the case of a much the greater Stephen Hawking, the question of his personal motives in thinking about, say, the “Big Bang” is of but secondary interest; the conclusion that the “Big Bang” took place and the logical rigor of the steps taken to arrive at that conclusion are the matters of primary concern.

And now, then, what will have to pass as an answer: modifying slightly what I said in my June 14th post in response to another good friend’s question, that of whether or not I believe in a divine being, I will say the following: I both honestly hope that such a divine being does exist, at least the divine being which is such as I would have a divine being be, and honestly fear that there isn’t such a being. I can concurrently both so experience hope and fear, as opposed to joy and sorrow, because, on the one hand, I neither know nor believe that such a divine being exists and yet, on the other, I neither know nor believe that such a divine being does not exist. While I have hopes and fears, I have no knowledge or belief either way. I desire to know, one way or the other.

Why do I so hope, fear, and desire to know? It is because (1) I further hope that life has an other than merely ad hoc purpose and fear that it does not and (2) I have a conception that life has an other than merely ad hoc purpose only if there is a god, that is, an absolutely perfect being. I call it a “conception” because I have not yet given it an articulation sufficient to warrant its being called a hypothesis. Far less have I subjected it to the dialectics of concerted consideration and discussion, weighing its pros and cons. Far, far less have I demonstrated it to be true. I hope, in the (admittedly relatively distant) future, to move in the direction of changing that set of circumstances.

Where We Are Coming from and Where We Are Going to: 6

August 23rd, 2009

For a number of posts now I have been engaged in an analysis of a passage in Seyyed Hossein Nasr’s The Garden of Truth in which, in the course of addressing the questions of where we are coming from and where we are going to, Nasr affirms that we are beings who exist both before and after our incarnate or embodied existence. In the last such post, August 15th’s “Where We Are Coming from and Where We Are Going to: 5,” I pointed out that, though he affirms that that is the case, he does not prove or even offer a full argument that it is.

That is, the argumentation that one can extract from the passage in question concludes only that “we are beings not reducible to being exclusively material beings.” It does not conclude that we have an immaterial component or are an immaterial being which is not dependent for its existence and functioning upon a material body.

I also pointed out that Nasr believes that there is a way of knowing that we have an immaterial consciousness which does not depend upon our material body for its existence and functioning, which way of knowing is other than that of argumentation or demonstration. I ended the post by saying that I would take this alternative way of knowing up in my next on-topic post. I should actually have said, “begin to take up.” In any case, this post is that post.

The passage under scrutiny continues as follows (The Garden of Truth, p. 7):

Now, no matter how we seek to go back to the origin of our consciousness, we cannot reach its beginning in time, and the question again arises what our consciousness, its origin, and its end are. The spiritual practices of every authentic path, including Sufism, enable those who follow and practice them earnestly and under the appropriate conditions to gain new levels of consciousness and ultimately to become aware that consciousness has no beginning in time (but only in God) because “in the beginning was consciousness,” and it has no temporal end because “in the end is consciousness.”

The way of knowing that is alternative to that of argumentation and demonstration is, or involves, the “spiritual practices of every authentic path.” Nasr is emphatic that it is through spiritual practice that the ultimate aim is to be achieved, not through theory or doctrine. Thus, a bit later in the book (pp. 32-33), he tells us:

The description and theoretical description of the Truth is contained in Sufi doctrine while the realization of the Truth is possible only through spiritual practice. Sufi doctrine, which is called theoretical gnosis (al-tasawwuf al-‘ilmī in Arabic and ‘irfān-i nazarī in Persian) is itself the fruit of spiritual realization and not simply philosophical speculation.

I will, in the course of future posts, attempt to pull out of The Garden of Truth and other texts whatever information I can about the spiritual practices that, according to Nasr, Sufis and others are able to attain “spiritual realization.” To anticipate: it will not be easy. In this post, I will content myself with the following. I will begin by granting, for the sake of argument, that spiritual realization, gnosis, or the direct and unmediated knowledge of the divine is possible through, but only through, spiritual practice, as opposed to “philosophical speculation.” I will also grant that anyone who has actually achieved such gnosis through spiritual practice is thereby in a position to know that such gnosis is possible, for whatever is actual is possible.

I myself, however, have not actually achieved such gnosis and therefore do not have that means of knowing that it is possible. I am therefore seeking, first of all, some convincing argumentation or even definitive proof that it is possible, possible through spiritual practice. If I were to be presented with the argumentation or proof that I seek, then I would be motivated to seek out and engage in the needed spiritual practice. Not yet so presented, I am not.

Moreover, even if I were to actually achieve the gnosis in question through spiritual practice and thus know that it is possible, it would still remain that, to understand how it is possible, I would need to have an explanation of how it is possible; I would need to have an understanding of the nature of the divine object of knowledge, such that it would be humanly knowable, the nature of the human knower, such that it would be capable of such knowledge, the nature of the relationship of the human knower to the divine knowable, and the nature of the knowledge by which the human knower would know the divine.

In previous posts we have seen Nasr begin to spell out two distinct understandings of the several natures just listed. One is contained in the thesis that I have identified (in the June 28th, 2009, post, “Nasr’s Gnosis and ‘Theomonism’”) as theomonism, the thesis that the divine being is the one and only real being.

In that post, given the, to say the least, counter-intuitive nature of the theomonist thesis and given Nasr’s use of words, such as “ultimately,” that could be construed as qualifiying the thesis’s statements, I was reluctant to say categorically that he adhered to theomonism. But I am abandonning that reluctance, for Nasr, from one end of The Garden of Truth to the other, offers statements suggestive or explicitly of the thesis. Thus, from relatively early on in the book (Ibid., p. 17):

Our relation to God, which means also the Divine Self at the center of our being, detemines who we really are and what we are meant to be. We can each start with the question “who am I?” and if we search enough be led step by step to the Sufi answer that we are beings who can address God directly by praising Him and being grateful to Him, that is, by saying al-hamdu li’Llāh, and in turn be worthy of being addressed by Him and consequently to reach Him, and to realize ultimately that He is the only I.

And thus, relatively late on in the book, Nasr reviews the thought of the Spanish Arab mystic Ibn ‘Arabi, whom (Ibid., p. 215) “many have rightly considered the father and founder of theoretical gnosis or doctrinal and theoretical Sufism.” Nasr points to “the doctrine of wahdat al-wujūd (the transcendental unity of being)” (Ibid., p. 215), which he identifies (Ibid., p. 220) as one of “the basic gnostic theses,” and then tells us (Ibid., p. 216):

The central teaching of Ibn “Arabi concerns the doctrine of unity, which is also the heart of the message of the Quran. But for him the assertion of this unity means not only that God is one but that ultimately Reality is one. This is what is called the doctrine of the transcendental unity or oneness of being….

Adamantine though Nasr has been in his adherence to the “doctrine of the transcendental unity or of being,” it remains that it is, as I said above, counter-intuitive. To put it more forcefully, it is false, for:

1. If there is anything that is in any way other than the one and only divine being (if such latter there indeed is), then the one and only divine being is not the only being.

2. There is something that is in some way other than the one and only divine being (I offer my own being as evidence; you can offer yours).

3. Therefore, the one and only divine being is not the only being.

It follows that, since it is false, the thesis of theomonism cannot serve as a basis for the doctrine of gnosticism.

In the next planned, on-topic, post, I will take a look at the other of the two distinct understandings of the nature of God, the human, the relation of the human to God, and of the human knowledge of God, as a second potential metaphysical foundation for gnosticism, different from but also figuring prominently in The Garden of Truth.

P. S. Your comments and queries are eagerly sought.

***

If you wish, you can easily purchase The Garden of Truth through Amazon.com by clicking on:

The Garden of Truth: The Vision and Promise of Sufism, Islam’s Mystical Tradition

Where We Are Coming from and Where We Are Going to: 5

August 15th, 2009

In my July 26th post, “Where We Are Coming from and Where We Are Going to 4,” I set forth an argument extracted from a passage in Seyyed Hossein Nasr’s The Garden of Truth (pp. 3-4) which I have been subjecting to analysis in recent posts. The argument, the conclusion of which is that “we are beings not reducible to being exclusively material beings,” is clearly valid: if its premises are true, then its conclusion must also be true. The supporting arguments, having as their conclusions the premises of the aforementioned, primary, argument, are likewise valid.

The import of the argumentation, valid though it is, is however limited in two significant ways. One is that the question remains of whether or not the arguments are sound arguments, i.e., whether or not all of their various premises are true, a question of which the answering will have to await another day.

It is the second limitation that motivates today’s post. This limitation lies in the fact that the conclusion of the primary argument is not the thesis that Nasr evidently wishes to arrive at, that we are beings who exist both before and after our incarnate or embodied existence; it is this conclusion that is consistent with his thesis that there is some “where” “where,” as he says, “we were before we came into this world” and “where we shall go after death”.

This can be seen more fully by noting that even if we assume with Nasr both that (1) we have a consciousness, a consciousness immaterial in nature, and so are beings not completely reducible to the material, and that (2) we have a material body, it still remains to determine whether or not our immaterial consciousness is dependent for its existence and functioning upon the material body. This, of course, is nothing but a version of the classical “mind-body” problem or, in an older terminology, the “soul-body” problem.

Assuming that we have as parts, dimensions, or aspects both an immaterial consciousness and a material body and abbreviating “The immaterial consciousness depends upon the material body for its existence and functioning” by “I” and “The material body depends upon the immaterial consciousness for its existence and functioning” by “M,” we have the following truth-table:

I M
T T
T F
F T
F F

The first row represents the possibility that both the immaterial consciousness depends upon the material body for its existence and functioning and the material body depends upon the immaterial consciousness for its existence and functioning. The second row represents the possibility that while the immaterial consciousness depends upon the material body for its existence and functioning, the material body does not depend upon the immaterial consciousness for its existence and functioning. Both of these positions are incompatible with Nasr’s understanding that we have a non-incarnate existence both before and after our incarnate existence.

The third row represents the possibility that the immaterial consciousness does not depend upon the material body for its existence and functioning while the material body does depend upon the immaterial consciousness for its existence and functioning. The fourth row represents the possibility that neither does the immaterial consciousness does depend upon the material body for its existence and functioning nor does the material body depend upon the immaterial consciousness for its existence and functioning; with the last, we find ourselves facing the absolute dualism of soul and body which at least one obvious reading of Descartes has him upholding.

At least and at most one of the four possibilities has to be the case and one of the last two possibilities has to be the one that Nasr upholds. He does, it is true, provide us with an argument, the extracted one, concluding that “we are beings not reducible to being exclusively material beings.” But what is immediately needed for his purpose is an argument showing that our having an immaterial consciousness entails our having or being an immaterial component or being which is not dependent for its existence and functioning upon a material body. And this Nasr does not provide us.

Nasr offers an alternative way for us to know that we have an immaterial consciousness which does not depend upon our material body for its existence and functioning. I’ll take this up in my next on-topic post.

***

If you wish, you can easily purchase The Garden of Truth through Amazon.com by clicking on:

The Garden of Truth: The Vision and Promise of Sufism, Islam’s Mystical Tradition

Christian Gnosticism

August 1st, 2009

In my post of June 28th, “Nasr’s Gnosis and ‘Theomonism’,” I pointed to a text of Nasr’s The Garden of Truth (p. 4) that seemingly has him making the claim that God alone is ultimately real.

Throughout the ages religions have sought to teach us who we are and through their inner teachings to provide the means of “becoming” our True Self. Islam is certainly no exception. It unveils the complete doctrine of our true nature and also the nature of the levels of reality issuing from the One, who alone is ultimately Real, and provides teaching that, if put into practice, lead us back to the One through a path of spiritual effort combined with joy and felicity.

I said “seemingly” above because the use of “ultimately” in “is ultimately real,” suggesting that other things are real, even if non-ultimately, may indicate some hesitation on his part.

Despite it’s meaning that I will get ahead of myself by (just barely) touching upon the doctrine of fana’, or annihilation, let me point to another, confirming or at least conforming, text (Ibid., p. 10):

Who am I? I am the I that, having traversed all the stages of limited existence from the physical to the mental to the noumenal, has realized its own “non-existence” and by virtue of this annihilation of this false self, has returned to its roots in the Divine reality and has become a star proximate to the Supernal Sun, which is ultimately the only I. having passed through the door of nothingness and annihilation, I come to the realization that at the root of my consciousness, of what I call I, resides the only I that can ultimately say I and that ultimately alone is.

Now, as I said in the earlier post, if God alone is real, then, if I too am (or some central part, dimension, or attribute of me is) real, then it must be that I am (or that central part, dimension, or attribute of me is) God. From this it would following that in knowing myself (or that central part, dimension, or attribute of me), I would know God. And so it is that Nasr could (Ibid., p. 5) quote the “Prophet of Islam” as saying, “Whosoever knows his self, knows his Lord.”

I remind you of this because I have just read Elaine Pagels The Gnostic Gospels (New York; Random House, 1981; Vintage Books, 1989) and have been struck by the similarity between the doctrines she sees some of the Christian gnostics of the second and third Christian centuries to be holding and the doctrines we can see in Nasr’s Sufism. One such doctrine is that of the identity of oneself and God.

Pagels brings that doctrine to the fore early on in the book (p. xix-xx). Having pointed out that the emerging Christian orthodoxy considered the gnostics to be heretics, Pagels first goes on to say:

But those who wrote and circulated these [gnostic] texts did not regard themselves as “heretics.” Most of the writings use Christian terminology, unmistakably related to a Jewish heritage. Many claim to offer traditions about Jesus that are secret, hidden from “the many” who constitute what, in the second century, came to be called the “catholic church.”

She goes on to spell out the origin of the “gnostic” descriptor.

These Christians are now called gnostics, from the Greek word gnosis, usually translated as “knowledge.” For as those who claim to know nothing about ultimate reality are called agnostic (literally, “not-knowing”), the person who does claim to know such thing is called gnostic (“knowing”).

She next differentiates between gnosis and knowledge otherwise understood, in two ways. First, as she says, “gnosis is not primarily rational.”

The Greek language distinguishes between scientific or reflective knowledge (“He knows mathematics”) and knowledge through observation or experience (“He knows me”), which is gnosis.

Moreover, to take the penultimate step towards the point of today’s post, gnosis is self-knowledge:

As the gnostics use the term, we could translate it as “insight,” for gnosis involves an intuitive process of knowing oneself. And to know oneself, they claimed, is to know human nature and human destiny.

“According,” she continues, “to the gnostic teacher Theodotus, writing in Asia Minor (c. 140-160), the gnostic is one who had come to understand,” [quoting him:]

who we were, and what we have become, where we were … whither we are hastening, from what we are being released, what birth is, and what is rebirth.

And, taking the last step: Pagels next tells us, “Yet to know oneself, at the deepest level, is simultaneously to know God; this is the secret of gnosis; another gnostic teacher, Monoimus, says:”

Abandon the search for God and the creation and other matters of a similar sort. Look for him by taking yourself as the starting point. Learn who it is within you who makes everything his own and says, “My God, my mind, my soul, my body.” Learn the sources of sorrow, joy, love, hate…If you carefully investigate these matters, you will find him in yourself.

Pagels may be right in claiming that some gnostics held that to know oneself is to know God. This would reveal a gnosticsm that it similar in at least this one respect to the gnosticsm that I think I see in Nasr’s Sufism. And this would raise all sorts of questions about the Islamic nature of Nasr’s Sufism, for the gnosticism about which Pagels is writing precedes Islam by four or five hundred years.

But I’ll have to leave things in this post in something of a state of ambiguity, as I did at the end of the June 28th post. That is because the textual selections that Pagels has brought to our attention do not say that God alone is real or that the self is identical with God; they merely state that God is in our selves.

If, however, Islamic gnosticism and Christian gnosticism are in some significant degree doctrinally similar, then to what extent can those gnosticisms be Islamic and Christian respectively?

***

If you wish, you can easily purchase The Garden of Truth through Amazon.com by clicking on:

The Garden of Truth: The Vision and Promise of Sufism, Islam’s Mystical Tradition

You can similarly purchase The Gnostic Gospels through Amazon.com by clicking on:

The Gnostic Gospels