I have decided to once again set hand to keyboard and renew the blog, “Islam and Intellect,” which some second thoughts and the press of life’s circumstances led me to suspend some time ago. Part of that renewal, however, is the assigning of a new name to the blog, “Gnosis and Noesis,” the new name reflecting a partial but significant change in focus. The focus of “Islam and Intellect” was on Islamic philosophy, theology, and mysticism and more specifically on the thought of the noted Iranian-American Muslim thinker Seyyed Hossein Nasr. While “Gnosis and Noesis” will in the relatively near future be focused on Nasr’s thought, over the long term a shift in focus will become evident, from one aiming at a critical understanding of Islamic philosophy, theology, and mysticism to one aiming at a critical understanding of philosophy, theology, and mysticism tout court.
The initial focus will be on the “gnosticism” of Nasr. To provide context, however, we’ll begin with some definitions that “gnosticism” can support. Setting aside the non-essential elements of the widely varying and often fantastical forms that gnosticism has assumed in the course of its history, we can distinguish three definitions of the term relevant both to the meaning, “knowledge,” of the Greek term “gnosis” and to the philosophical perspective motivating this blog. First, however, provision of a logically prior definition will be useful, that of epistemology: epistemology, from the Greek “episteme,” or “knowledge,” is the philosophical theory or science of knowledge, i.e., the discipline that investigates the existence, the nature, and the principles and properties of knowledge precisely as knowledge.
This definition in hand, “gnosticism,” in the broadest sense of the term, can designate the epistemological thesis that a genuine knowledge of the real is possible; “epistemism” would be an equally apt term for this thesis. Gnosticism in this sense stands opposed to skepticism, the epistemological thesis that a genuine knowledge of the real is not possible.
Before proceeding further, provision of another fundamental definition is called for, that of ontology: ontology, from the Greek “ontos,” or “being,” is the philosophical theory or science of being, i.e., the discipline that investigates the existence, the nature, and the principles and properties of being precisely as being. This latter definition in hand, we can note that the gnosticism defined above obviously presupposes the truth of the ontological thesis that there is at least one real being; if there were no real being, there would be no real being to be known.
More narrowly, “gnosticism” can designate the thesis that a genuine knowledge of the divine is possible. Gnosticism in this second sense of the word obviously presupposes the truth of gnosticism in the previous sense of the word and therefore also the truth of the presuppositions of that epistemological theory. It further and equally obviously presupposes the truth of the generically ontological and specifically theological thesis that there is a divine to be known; if there is, or were, no divine, there is, or would be, no divine to be known. This second gnosticism stands opposed to “agnosticism,” the thesis that a genuine knowledge of the divine is not possible.
More narrowly yet, “gnosticism” can designate the thesis that an immediate knowledge, i.e., a “vision,” of the divine is possible. This is in contrast with what a non-immediate knowledge, i.e., a mediated knowledge, of the divine would be. By rough analogy: seeing a person in the next room would be an immediate knowledge of that person; hearing the opening and closing of desk drawers on the other side of a closed door, and then inferring that there is someone there, would be a mediated knowledge of the person.
A mediated knowledge of the divine, if there is such, is then one in which the divine is known but only as an inferred cause, the cause which we infer that the existents which we do know immediately must have; the celebrated “Five Ways” with which Thomas Aquinas attempted to demonstrate the existence of God all represent attempts at such a mediated knowledge of the divine.
Gnosticism in this third sense of the word obviously presupposes the truth of gnosticism in both of the two previous senses of the word and therefore also the truth of their presuppositions. Gnosticism in this sense stands in opposition to the view, for which I know of no one-word designator, that an immediate knowledge of the divine is not possible.
It is gnosticism in the third sense of the term that is to be the object of our focus for the foreseeable future. The history of thought provides multiple illustrations of several competing theses related to gnosticism in this third sense . One view is evident in classical Catholic Christianity’s understanding of the “beatific vision,” the vision of God that, it is held, brings absolute happiness. As I understand it, it is the view of classical Catholic Christianity that an immediate knowledge of the divine is possible, not, however, in this life, but only in an after-life. This view clearly presupposes the truth of the thesis that there is an after-life, which thesis itself depends upon some controversial premises.
A glimpse of an at least near approximation to an alternative view of gnosticism can be seen in Plato’s “Allegory of the Cave” (Republic, Book VII, 514a-520a), with its understanding that the philosopher-king needs to and, presumably, can attain a vision of the ideal or perfect Good. On the assumption that the ideal or perfect Good is in fact the divine, this understanding holds that an immediate knowledge of the divine is possible, even in this life and not only in an after-life.
Bringing in the difference between naturalism and supernaturalism gives rise to other pertinent possibilities. One view, also evident in classical Catholic Christianity’s view of the “beatific vision,” holds that an immediate knowledge of the divine is possible, but only if humans are provided, through divine grace, with supernatural means of knowing. The opposed, naturalistic, understanding holds that an immediate knowledge of the divine is possible by human means alone; still holding to the assumptions at work in the immediately preceding paragraph, it seems that this was Plato’s understanding of the matter.
A truth-table can set forth all of the most pertinent logical possibilities. If we let “I” abbreviate “An immediate knowledge of the divine is possible,” “E” abbreviate “The immediate knowledge of the divine is possible in this (embodied) life,” “N” abbreviate “The immediate knowledge of the divine is possible through natural means,” and, of course, “T” abbreviate “True” and “F” abbreviate “False,” we have the following truth-table:
I E N
T T T
T T F
T F T
T F F
F T T
F T F
F F T
F F F
The first row (TTT) represents the thesis that an immediate knowledge of the divine is possible, in this life and by human means alone. The aim of engaging in a thorough philosophical exploration of this thesis, the thesis that I think Plato at least nearly arrived at, is a primary one with which I begin this blog.
The second row (TTF) represents the thesis that an immediate knowledge of the divine is possible, in this life, but not by human means alone; supernatural grace is needed in addition. This view, as we will see in the coming posts, is central to the Sufi gnosticism spelled out by Nasr in his The Garden of Truth: The Vision and Promise of Sufism, Islam’s Mystical Tradition (Reprint edition; New York: HarperOne, 2008 [2007]). Yet, as I think I can show, there are some things in Nasr’s gnosticism that could imply that humans are at least in principle capable of attaining the immediate knowledge of the divine by the purely human means available to philosophy.
The third row (TFT) represents the thesis that an immediate knowledge of the divine is possible, though not in this life, but by human means alone. I assume, though I don’t know, that there are those who adhere to this thesis, and were I to encounter someone who did, I would observe that it presupposes that there is a pertinent difference between the human person in this life and the human person in the presumed next or after-life, such that the latter, but not the former, is capable of an immediate knowledge of the divine. Conceding that there are dramatic differences between life in this life and a life in a next life, I would then ask what the pertinent difference is.
The fourth row (TFF) represents the thesis that an immediate knowledge of the divine is possible, but not in this life and not by human means alone. This, I understand, represents the view of Thomas Aquinas and much if not virtually all of classical theism, Muslim as well as Christian. The adherents to this view have to hold that there is a pertinent difference between the supernatural grace that they believe is bestowed upon at least some humans in this life and the supernatural grace that they believe is bestowed upon at least some humans in the presumed next or after-life, such that some in the latter, but none in the former, are capable of attaining an immediate knowledge of the divine. I ask both what that difference is and why that difference is.
As the Fs in the column under the “I” in the fifth through eighth rows tell us, the remaining logical possibilities all assume that an immediate knowledge of the divine is not possible. The fifth, sixth, and seventh possibilities are therefore, clearly, self-contradictory. The eighth is perfectly self-consistent and, for all I know at this point, may well be the one that is true.
In the coming weeks, months, and years I intend to engage in a sustained philosophical exploration of the options just sketched out and their many and varying presuppositions. I am doing so quite simply because I wish to know whether or not it is in principle possible for us to enjoy a beatific vision, whether in this life or in another. I am making this blog an important component of the exploration at hand because through it I hope to find others who are or who are willing to become similarly engaged.
I use the expression “philosophical exploration” quite deliberately. First, my efforts will be philosophical in nature; I do not have a religious perspective as my point of departure and this, as will become clear as things proceed, has some important implications. Again, my efforts will be genuinely exploratory in their nature in this at least: using the expression “sound argument” in the logician’s technical sense of “a valid argument of which the premises are all true (and so therefore also the conclusion), I at this point know of no sound argument demonstrating the truth of any of the above gnostic theses and I know of no sound argument demonstrating their falsehood. I moreover know of no sound argument demonstrating that there can be no such sound arguments. Nothing, as I see it, has been definitively settled and I wish to do whatever I can to settle, perhaps even definitively settle, at least some things.
I will begin the blog’s deliberations with a slow and reflective reading of Seyyed Hossein Nasr’s The Garden of Truth: The Vision and Promise of Sufism, Islam’s Mystical Tradition, more or less systematically working my way through the book. I say, “more or less systematically,” for two reasons. First, I will reflect and comment on only the book’s most salient passages. Second, I anticipate often finding it necessary to follow some thread of presupposition or implication beyond the boundaries of that one work to other works.
In my next scheduled on-topic post (there may well be an occasional unscheduled or off-topic post) I will spell out some reasons why I begin with Nasr and his The Garden of Truth.
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If you wish, you an 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
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