The mystics understood the richness and limitations of human understanding and the partial capacity of language to carry the burden of spiritual matters.
In the 1930s the esteemed epistemologist Karl Popper clarified an important aspect of what constitutes human knowledge.
He asserted that all human knowing is provisional: our best approximation of reality at a particular point in time.
Although it may appear obvious now, it was an important break though in our understanding of the nature of knowledge at a time when knowing was closely aligned with factual truth.
It enabled the holding of a creative tension between what was currently known and what was yet to be discovered. Truth, it would appear, is not discovered and left undisturbed but is continually discerned in a process that unfolds organically.
At a time when the Catholic Church is being invited to greater humility by the Plenary Council and greater synodality by Pope Francis it may be prudent to acknowledge both the richness and limitations of human knowing, especially when it comes to matters concerning ultimate reality.
A progressive understanding of the nature of knowledge will enable the Church to tell its story with boldness and humility. It will also enhance its capacity to honour the wisdom of other faith traditions and, indeed, of other important disciplines.
In the religious sphere the mystical tradition had a nuanced understanding of knowing within the spiritual realm. It posits three dimensions of the soul: intellect, will and memory.
Each dimension has an ambiguous quality insofar that it reveals and veils reality at the same time. In this short article the function of the intellect, its relationship to the holy and its role in revelation are considered.
The intellect helps one to understand and relate to the world through the formation of concepts and the use of images.
It equates to a knowing by naming and picturing. It is a powerful way to be in the world, enabling a deep understanding, control and manipulation of many aspects of reality.
For example, human ingenuity allows for the greening of the deserts; the transformation of stored water into electrical energy; and the ability to look into outer space to witness the birth and death of distant stars.
It is easy to see why the ancient Greek philosopher Protagoras spoke of man (sic) being the measure of all things.
Yet, Christian Scripture points to another truth about what it means to be human. In the Garden of Eden story, the author alludes to the limits of human understanding and freedom.
‘You are fee to eat of all the trees in the garden. But of the tree of the knowledge of good and evil you are not to eat, for, the day you eat of that, you are doomed to die’ (Genesis 2: 16-17).When it comes to ultimate reality, the intellect is not able to capture it in a concept, picture it in any definitive sense, or control it to serve its own purpose.
There is a wonderful creative tension in human knowing that enables people of faith to speak with both boldness and humility with regard to their world view.
Creative tension in human knowing
The mystics, particularly John of the Cross, Meister Eckhart, Teresa of Avila, Thérèse of Lisieux and Thomas Merton understood the richness and limitations of human understanding and the partial capacity of language to carry the burden of spiritual matters.
They proposed a different category of knowing when it comes to God or, what some call, ultimate reality. They spoke of ‘dark knowledge’ or of knowing by not knowing.
It is only by acknowledging the limits of conventional knowledge that wisdom of God emerges in an illumination that is characterized by darkness not light.
In less mystical and more religious language, it is knowing by faith. In spiritual discourse it might be described as knowing by letting go rather than by possessing.
The mystics make themselves hospitable to God in the practice of contemplation. Using the disciplines of silence, stillness, intention and attention they create room for the Ultimate Other. Their own bodies become the space where the temples of earth and of heaven unite.
They experience God in a profound knowing based upon union, not concepts or images. It is a knowing that is akin to intimacy with rather than knowledge about God.
This kind of knowing may be related to the words expressed in Genesis 1:27. ‘Man is made in the image and likeness of God.’ A crude reading of Genesis might suggest that image and likeness are being used interchangeably.
The language may also suggest a double movement in the text. People are already made in the image of God and are invited to grow into greater likeness or unity with God.
Indeed, St Augustine suggested that growing in likeness to something is the most profound understanding of knowledge.
In Augustinian thought true knowledge cannot come through the senses but derives from a distant memory of the soul’s initial source and ultimate home in God.
This particular concept of knowledge is alluded to in the Hebrew Scripture when the psalmist writes about ‘deep is calling to deep’ (Psalms 42:7). It is a wonderful summation of what contemplation really is.It may just be that our Indigenous brothers and sisters in Australia have a greater facility for this kind of dark knowing. As I understand it, Indigenous Australians studied the night sky by focusing on the dark regions rather than on the stars.
That enabled them to discern different patterns to conventional astrology, and, perhaps, to gain different insights into the nature of creation.
It could be that the Church needs to learn from the wisdom of the dark and acknowledge the limits of the light if we are to honour the God of Life and share the Christian story boldly and humbly with all people who seek deeper meaning.
The understanding that knowledge is contestable and provisional is now well established and generally accepted.
However, scientific knowledge based upon radical doubt, experimentation and falsification now assumes priority, if not exclusiveness, in human knowing.
In this culture, claims about ultimate reality are often lampooned as idiocy or scorned as a psychological crutch against meaninglessness.
Yet in our relationship to the holy we may be called to transcend cognitive understanding and choose trust in its stead, love in ways that go beyond the need to possess so that God may be God, and embrace salvation as our deepest motivation rather than fear or concern for our own security.
The symbol of the cross expresses it most eloquently and calls to mind Isaiah’s reminder: God’s ways are not our ways. (Isaiah 55: 8-9)It is fabled that the oracle at Delhi declared Socrates the wisest Greek of all on the basis that that he professed to know nothing. The Church too can demonstrate its wisdom by embracing its not knowing as it shares its profound treasures.
Gerry O’Neill is an author, spiritual director and Regional Formation Manager for the Sisters of St John of God Ministries. He is former Director of Mission for St John of God Health Care.
With thanks to Gerry O’Neill and La Croix International, where this article originally appeared.
