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Knowledge and Religious Experience
-What is the character and general structure
of the universe in which we live? Is there a permanent element in
the constitution of this universe? How are we related to it? What
place do we occupy in it, and what is the kind of conduct that befits
the place we occupy? These questions are common to religion, philosophy,
and higher poetry. But the kind of knowledge that poetic inspiration
brings is essentially individual in its character; it is figurative,
vague, and indefinite. Religion, in its more advanced forms, rises
higher than poetry. It moves from individual to society. In its
attitude towards the Ultimate Reality it is opposed to the limitations
of man; it enlarges his claims and holds out the prospect of nothing
less than a direct vision of Reality. Is it then possible to apply
the purely rational method of philosophy to religion? The spirit
of philosophy is one of free inquiry. It suspects all authority.
Its function is to trace the uncritical assumptions of human thought
to their hiding places, and in this pursuit it may finally end in
denial or a frank admission of the incapacity of pure reason to
reach the Ultimate Reality. The essence of religion, on the other
hand, is faith; and faith, like the bird, sees its trackless
way unattended by intellect which, in the words of the great
mystic poet of Islam, only waylays the living heart of man
and robs it of the invisible wealth of life that lies within.
Yet it cannot be denied that faith is more than mere feeling. It
has something like a cognitive content, and the existence of rival
parties scholastics and mystics in the history of religion
shows that idea is a vital element in religion. Apart from this,
religion on its doctrinal side, as defined by Professor Whitehead,
is a system of general truths which have the effect of transforming
character when they are sincerely held and vividly apprehended2
Now, since the transformation and guidance of mans inner and
outer life is the essential aim of religion, it is obvious that
the general truths which it embodies must not remain unsettled.
No one would hazard action on the basis of a doubtful principle
of conduct. Indeed, in view of its function, religion stands in
greater need of a rational foundation of its ultimate principles
than even the dogmas of science. Science may ignore a rational metaphysics;
indeed, it has ignored it so far. Religion can hardly afford to
ignore the search for a reconciliation of the oppositions of experience
and a justification of the environment in which humanity finds itself.
That is why Professor Whitehead has acutely remarked that the
ages of faith are the ages of rationalism. But to rationalize
faith is not to admit the superiority of philosophy over religion.
Philosophy, no doubt, has jurisdiction to judge religion, but what
is to be judged is of such a nature that it will not submit to the
jurisdiction of philosophy except on its own terms. While sitting
in judgement on religion, philosophy cannot give religion an inferior
place among its data. Religion is not a departmental affair; it
is neither mere thought, nor mere feeling, nor mere action; it is
an expression of the whole man. Thus, in the evaluation of religion,
philosophy must recognize the central position of religion and has
no other alternative but to admit it as something focal in the process
of reflective synthesis. Nor is there any reason to suppose that
thought and intuition are essentially opposed to each other. They
spring up from the same root and complement each other. The one
grasps Reality piecemeal, the other grasps it in its wholeness.
The one fixes its gaze on the eternal, the other on the temporal
aspect of Reality. The one is present enjoyment of the whole of
Reality; the other aims at traversing the whole by slowly specifying
and closing up the various regions of the whole for exclusive observation.
Both are in need of each other for mutual rejuvenation. Both seek
visions of the same Reality which reveals itself to them in accordance
with their function in life. In fact, intuition, as Bergson rightly
says, is only a higher kind of intellect.
The search for rational foundations in Islam may be regarded to
have begun with the Prophet himself. His constant prayer was: God!
grant me knowledge of the ultimate nature of things!5 The
work of later mystics and non-mystic rationalists forms an exceedingly
instructive chapter in the history of our culture, inasmuch as it
reveals a longing for a coherent system of ideas, a spirit of whole-hearted
devotion to truth, as well as the limitations of the age, which
rendered the various theological movements in Islam less fruitful
than they might have been in a different age. As we all know, Greek
philosophy has been a great cultural force in the history of Islam.
Yet a careful study of the Qur«n and the various schools
of scholastic theology that arose under the inspiration of Greek
thought disclose the remarkable fact that while Greek philosophy
very much broadened the outlook of Muslim thinkers, it, on the whole,
obscured their vision of the Qur«n. Socrates concentrated
his attention on the human world alone. To him the proper study
of man was man and not the world of plants, insects, and stars.
How unlike the spirit of the Qur«n, which sees in the
humble bee a recipient of Divine inspiration6 and constantly calls
upon the reader to observe the perpetual change of the winds, the
alternation of day and night, the clouds,7 the starry heavens,8
and the planets swimming through infinite space!9 As a true disciple
of Socrates, Plato despised sense perception which, in his
view, yielded mere opinion and no real knowledge. How unlike the
Qur«n, which regards hearing and sight
as the most valuable Divine gifts and declares them to be accountable
to God for their activity in this world. This is what the earlier
Muslim students of the Qur«n completely missed under
the spell of classical speculation. They read the Qur«n
in the light of Greek thought. It took them over two hundred years
to perceive - though not quite clearly - that the spirit of the
Qur«n was essentially anti-classical, and the result
of this perception was a kind of intellectual revolt, the full significance
of which has not been realized even up to the present day. It was
partly owing to this revolt and partly to his personal history that
Ghaz«lâ based religion on philosophical scepticism -
a rather unsafe basis for religion and not wholly justified by the
spirit of the Qur«n. Ghaz«lâs chief
opponent, Ibn Rushd, who defended Greek philosophy against the rebels,
was led, through Aristotle, to what is known as the doctrine of
Immortality of Active Intellect, a doctrine which once wielded enormous
influence on the intellectual life of France and Italy, but which,
to my mind, is entirely opposed to the view that the Qur«n
takes of the value and destiny of the human ego. Thus Ibn Rushd
lost sight of a great and fruitful idea in Islam and unwittingly
helped the growth of that enervating philosophy of life which obscures
mans vision of himself, his God, and his world. The more constructive
among the Asharite thinkers were no doubt on the right path
and anticipated some of the more modern forms of Idealism; yet,
on the whole, the object of the Asharite movement was simply
to defend orthodox opinion with the weapons of Greek dialectic.
The Mutazilah, conceiving religion merely as a body of doctrines
and ignoring it as a vital fact, took no notice of non-conceptual
modes of approaching Reality and reduced religion to a mere system
of logical concepts ending in a purely negative attitude. They failed
to see that in the domain of knowledge - scientific or religious
- complete independence of thought from concrete experience is not
possible.
It cannot, however, be denied that Ghaz«lâs mission
was almost apostolic like that of Kant in Germany of the eighteenth
century. In Germany rationalism appeared as an ally of religion,
but she soon realized that the dogmatic side of religion was incapable
of demonstration. The only course open to her was to eliminate dogma
from the sacred record. With the elimination of dogma came the utilitarian
view of morality, and thus rationalism completed the reign of unbelief.
Such was the state of theological thought in Germany when Kant appeared.
His Critique of Pure Reason revealed the limitations of human reason
and reduced the whole work of the rationalists to a heap of ruins.
And justly has he been described as Gods greatest gift to
his country. Ghaz«lâs philosophical scepticism
which, however, went a little too far, virtually did the same kind
of work in the world of Islam in breaking the back of that proud
but shallow rationalism which moved in the same direction as pre-Kantian
rationalism in Germany. There is, however, one important difference
between Ghaz«lâs and Kant. Kant, consistently
with his principles, could not affirm the possibility of a knowledge
of God. Ghaz«lâs, finding no hope in analytic
thought, moved to mystic experience, and there found an independent
content for religion. In this way he succeeded in securing for religion
the right to exist independently of science and metaphysics. But
the revelation of the total Infinite in mystic experience convinced
him of the finitude and inconclusiveness of thought and drove him
to draw a line of cleavage between thought and intuition. He failed
to see that thought and intuition are organically related and that
thought must necessarily simulate finitude and inconclusiveness
because of its alliance with serial time. The idea that thought
is essentially finite, and for this reason unable to capture the
Infinite, is based on a mistaken notion of the movement of thought
in knowledge. It is the inadequacy of the logical understanding
which finds a multiplicity of mutually repellent individualities
with no prospect of their ultimate reduction to a unity that makes
us sceptical about the conclusiveness of thought. In fact, the logical
understanding is incapable of seeing this multiplicity as a coherent
universe. Its only method is generalization based on resemblances,
but its generalizations are only fictitious unities which do not
affect the reality of concrete things. In its deeper movement, however,
thought is capable of reaching an immanent Infinite in whose self-unfolding
movement the various finite concepts are merely moments. In its
essential nature, then, thought is not static; it is dynamic and
unfolds its internal infinitude in time like the seed which, from
the very beginning, carries within itself the organic unity of the
tree as a present fact. Thought is, therefore, the whole in its
dynamic self-expression, appearing to the temporal vision as a series
of definite specifications which cannot be understood except by
a reciprocal reference. Their meaning lies not in their self-identity,
but in the larger whole of which they are the specific aspects.
This larger whole is to use a Quranic metaphor, a kind of
Preserved Tablet, which holds up the entire undetermined
possibilities of knowledge as a present reality, revealing itself
in serial time as a succession of finite concepts appearing to reach
a unity which is already present in them. It is in fact the presence
of the total Infinite in the movement of knowledge that makes finite
thinking possible. Both Kant and Ghaz«lâs failed
to see that thought, in the very act of knowledge, passes beyond
its own finitude. The finitudes of Nature are reciprocally exclusive.
Not so the finitudes of thought which is, in its essential nature,
incapable of limitation and cannot remain imprisoned in the narrow
circuit of its own individuality. In the wide world beyond itself
nothing is alien to it. It is in its progressive participation in
the life of the apparently alien that thought demolishes the walls
of its finitude and enjoys its potential infinitude. Its movement
becomes possible only because of the implicit presence in its finite
individuality of the infinite, which keeps alive within it the flame
of aspiration and sustains it in its endless pursuit. It is a mistake
to regard thought as inconclusive, for it too, in its own way, is
a greeting of the finite with the infinite.
continued..
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