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The Benchmarks of Spirituality: Spirituality vis-a-vis Philosophical Enquiry
This section in the series The Benchmarks of Spirituality contains one particular example of philosophical enquiry with a view to comparing that process with what one might experience in the realm of spiritual enquiry.
Chapter 2
Spirituality vis-a-vis Philosophical Enquiry
Spirituality is a way of either looking beyond the status quo or looking into the depths of what gives meaning and significance to life. It is not being satisfied with the surface appearances of things around us. But so very often when a person engages in this activity and tries to explain what they have seen, it falls on deaf ears. Why? Are people just being obstinate and stupid? Or have people become so enamoured with the climate of their environment that they have lost the ability to appreciate a new insight?
Plato drew a picture of such an environment. I expect that many other philosophers could be quoted at this point, but I have chosen this particular philosopher for a reason. The picture he draws has become a classic in philosophical literature. I want to quote it in some detail because it illustrates a number of important issues associated with the process of philosophical enquiry. It comes from The Republic Chapter XXV and is called the Allegory of the Cave. I would encourage the reader to imagine what it might be like to experience this episode in the cave, and in so doing possibly get a glimpse of those benchmarks that also characterize spiritual enquiry.
The dialogue begins with Socrates describing this allegory to his pupil Glaucon:
Next, said I, here is a parable to illustrate the degrees in which our nature may be enlightened or unenlightened. Imagine the conditions of men living in a sort of cavernous chamber underground, with an entrance open to the light and a long passage all down the cave. Here they have been since childhood, chained by the leg and also by the neck, so that they cannot move and can see only what is in front of them, because the chains will not let them turn their heads. At some distance higher up is the light of a fire burning behind them; and between the prisoners and the fire is a track with a parapet built along it, like a screen at a puppet show, which hides the performers while they show their puppets over the top.
I see, said he.
Now behind this parapet imagine persons carrying along various artificial objects, including figures of men and animals in wood or stone or other materials, which project above the parapet. Naturally, some of these persons will be talking, others silent.
It is a strange picture, he said, and a strange sort of prisoners.
Like ourselves, I replied; for in the first place prisoners so confined would have seen nothing of themselves or of one another, except the shadows thrown by the fire-light on the wall of the Cave facing them, would they?
Not if all their lives they had been prevented from moving their heads.
And they would have seen as little of the objects carried past.
Of course.
Now, if they could talk to one another, would they not suppose that their words referred only to those passing shadows which they saw?
Necessarily.
And suppose their prison had an echo from the wall facing them? When one of the people crossing behind them spoke, they could only suppose that the sound came from the shadow passing before their eyes.
No doubt.
In every way, then, such prisoners would recognize as reality nothing but the shadows of those artificial objects.
Inevitably.
Now consider what would happen if their release from the chains and healing of their unwisdom should come about in this way. Suppose one of them set free and forced suddenly to stand up, turn his head, and walk with eyes lifted to the light; all these movements would be painful, and he would be too dazzled to make out the objects whose shadows he had been used to see. What do you think he would say, if someone told him that what he had formerly seen was meaningless illusion, but now, being somewhat nearer to reality and turned towards more real objects, he was getting a truer view? Suppose further that he were shown the various objects being carried by and were made to say, in reply to questions, what each of them was. Would he not be perplexed and believe the objects now shown him to be not so real as what he formerly saw?
Yes, not nearly so real.
And if he were forced to look at the fire-light itself, would not his eyes ache, so that he would try to escape and turn back to the things which he could see distinctly, convinced that they really were clearer than these other objects now being shown to him?
Yes.
And suppose someone were to drag him away forcibly up the steep and rugged ascent and not let him go until he had hauled him out into the sunlight, would he not suffer pain and vexation at such treatment, and, when he had come out into the light, find his eyes so full of its radiance that he could not see a single one of the things that he was now told were real?
Certainly he would not see them all at once.
He would need, then, to grow accustomed before he could see things in that upper world. At first it would be easiest to make out shadows, and then the images of men and things reflected in water, and later on the things themselves. After that, it would be easier to watch the heavenly bodies and the sky itself by night, looking at the light of the moon and stars rather than the Sun and the Sun’s light in the day-time.
Yes, surely.
Last of all, he would be able to look at the Sun and contemplate its nature, not as it appears when reflected in water or any alien medium, but as it is in itself in its own domain.
No doubt.
And now he would begin to draw the conclusion that it is the Sun that produces the seasons and the course of the year and controls everything in the visible world, and moreover is in a way the cause of all that he and his companions used to see.
Clearly he would come at last to that conclusion.
Then if he called to mind his fellow prisoners and what passed for wisdom in his former dwelling-place, he would surely think himself happy in the change and be sorry for them. They may have had a practice of honouring and commending one another, with prizes for the man who had the keenest eye for the passing shadows and the best memory for the order in which they followed or accompanied one another, so that they could make a good guess as to which was going to come next. Would our released prisoner be likely to covet those prizes or to envy the men exalted to honour and power in the Cave? Would he not feel like Homer’s Achilles, that he would far sooner be on earth as a hired servant in the house of a landless man or endure anything rather than go back to his old beliefs and live in the old way?
Yes, he would prefer any fate to such a life.
Now imagine what would happen if he went down again to take his former seat in the Cave. Coming suddenly out of the sunlight, his eyes would be filled with darkness. He might be required once more to deliver his opinion on those shadows, in competition with the prisoners who had never been released, while his eyesight was still dim and unsteady; and it might take some time to become used to the darkness. They would laugh at him and say that he had gone up only to come back with his sight ruined; it was worth no one’s while even to attempt the ascent. If they could lay hands on the man who was trying to set them free and lead them up, they would kill him.
Yes, they would.
The dialogue continues with a commentary on the meaning of various aspects of the allegory. What is really significant in this rather lengthy dissertation is not to single out the relevance of Platonic philosophy as such, but rather to exemplify the process involved. For our purposes it describes a striking similarity between philosophical enquiry and what people experience when they engage in spiritual enquiry. It might even be considered as a kind of litmus test for spiritual growth.
To begin with, the experience is painful. It is a departure from what is familiar and comforting. It is an experience characterized by new and strange ideas that do not appear to conform with one’s past. It is also an experience that is not willed, but comes as an intrusion on one’s present sense of reality. It is as if something external is forcing itself upon you, and there may very well be a temptation to resist and return to what is more comfortable and re-assuring.
The new insight is appealing, but it takes time to make the adjustment. It may indeed have a compelling nature but the process of illumination is gradual. In the course of time the painfulness is replaced by a kind of excitement. There is obviously something here which is not entirely clear, but it is definitely a good experience.
And then you want to tell someone about it. It would be very natural to return to those persons who were formerly an important part of your life’s journey - your family, your friends, and those whom you considered to be authorities in matters of truth and goodness. But what do you say? The words that come out of your mouth do not resonate well with the vocabulary of your past environment. You stumble to find appropriate expressions for your new experience. Your dilemma is that the description of this new revelation can not be objectified in the same way. In the past, the expressions of what was good and true were objectified in creedal formulas and specific practices. But this is a different kind of experience. It is easier to tell them what it is not than what it is.
Your listeners stare at you perplexed. You are speaking an unfamiliar language. And they come to the conclusion that such expressions are not only unfitting in their environment but also dangerous. They disturb what has become enshrined as the basis for a good and meaningful life. They do not want to hear you and they will do what they can to silence you. The description of the Allegory ends: “If they could lay hands on the man who was trying to set them free and lead them up, they would kill him.”
And they have! The anger of religious establishments has manifested itself in many ways. They killed Jesus for saying things that upset what they considered to be the realities of religious expression. The persecution continued providing this new religion with a long list of martyrs. And what are martyrs but crucibles of a new truth that people want to destroy. They burned heretics only to find in the course of time that they were closer to the truth than previously imagined. They tortured people in the Inquisition for daring to express a belief that was not in keeping with traditional teaching. And the list could go on.
In the commentary that follows Plato raises some interesting points. He emphasizes the need for the enlightened man to return to the Cave. And even though it may take time to grow accustomed to his former environment, it is essential to rejoin the community. Plato explains that the purpose of the experience “was not that each should be left to go his own way, but that they should be instruments in binding the community into one.” Translated into spiritual terms, it is essential that those who want to reach out beyond the status quo for new insights must be prepared to use that experience to inform and enrich their religious roots.
It is also interesting to note how Plato illustrates the need for the unchained man to turn around and look in another direction. This is exactly what the word “repentance” means. The Greek word “metanoia” does not convey the notion of abject remorse and constant pleas for forgiveness. It simply means to turn around and go in another direction. The philosophical and religious analogies are the same.
But this, in itself, presents a very real challenge, and probably accounts for the most part on the reluctance of people to listen. It is both a painful and frightening experience. It calls up a fear of the unknown and the apparent collapse of a familiar belief system. As Plato took this experience seriously and was very realistic about its acceptance, so should anyone engaged in new forms of spiritual activity recognize its impact on those around them.
Just as similarities can be found between philosophical enquiry and spirituality so there are similar characteristics between spirituality and those people who have had unique religious experiences. In the next section some of these experiences will be described in an attempt to identify more closely the Benchmarks of Spirituality.
by Paul Chidwick
Posted by editor on September 30, 2003 10:51 AM