I’ve been rereading an old Harper Torchbooks edition of Martin Buber’s Eclipse of God, nine lectures Buber gave at universities in 1951. The book appeared a year later and, as I’ve just discovered, is till available from Amazon but now from Humanity Books. The lectures centered on a critique of modern philosophies, most centrally on existentialism (Heidegger, Sartre) and Jungian psychology. These “eclipse” God in the sense of a person—and for Buber, most famed for his writing about the “I and Thou” relationship, always between persons, the eclipse really means turning a personal God into either “the God of the philosophers” (Pascal’s phrase), thus into a transcending idea, or into a human self, namely one’s own, a word that Jung liked to render always with a leading cap. The central essay in this book is titled “The Love of God and the Idea of Deity”—a very revealing lecture in that it attempts give some reality to the nature of the love that humanity can feel for God.
Back in the 1950s—and my scribbled comments are still there in the margin—I had already learned to shake my head at the self-centered and the abstract treatments of the subject. The elevation of the self, individuated or not, into a kind of private deity never agreed with me, seeming to be a kind of cul de sac. At the same time, an abstraction cannot love or be loved. For this reason Deuteronomy 6:5, “And you shall love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your might” either lacks all meaning in any real human context—or I was missing some hidden meaning in the word love itself.
In Buber’s personalistic thought it is the presence of God, always and everywhere, that is an underlying intuitive foundation of the sort of love Deuteronomy points to—very poorly. Buber says that the actual words in Exodus 3:14, usually translated as “I am that I am” actually are “I shall be there”—therefore presence. “I am with you always,” as in Matthew 28:20. “There is no spot where God is not” is a favorite phrase of ours here—and has the same totally personalistic connotation, intentionality, and aura that the I-Thou relationship holds in Buber’s thought. Those we love are always present to us—no matter how many miles may separate us. This feeling is a matter of experience.
There is a Sufi story about a master who gave each of his disciples a live pigeon and told them to wring its neck somewhere where nobody could see the act. All the disciples, except one, came back with dead pigeons. One came back with the pigeon still alive. Asked why he had failed, the disciple said: “There is no place where God can’t see me.”
Contrast this sort of thing with the usually abstract discussions of God—and gradually the notion of what loving God might actually mean emerges, however faintly. Love is the most elusive of words. Yes, we do know its manifestations at the sensory levels—but it is as we leave that level behind that it becomes oddly translucent so that, eventually, even the love of God becomes gradually accessible. But, Lord, it’s a steep mountain—and the simple commands of Just Do It, and with all your heart and soul and might, is not a ski-lift.
Showing posts with label Heidegger. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Heidegger. Show all posts
Thursday, February 3, 2011
Monday, June 22, 2009
Hans Jonas
Precisely because Christianity came to dominate the civilization of the West—it was the successful competitor among many others as the Roman Empire fell apart—its competitors are much less known. One of these was Gnosticism; it manifested in several different strands; these never fused into a single major religion. To speak of a “gnostic religion,” therefore, is to use a metaphor. Those who wander into these woods soon discover that the written remains are sparse, essentially inaccessible without major archeological help (in a manner of speaking). The historical, sociological, and intellectual background is opaque. The texts are, ultimately, tedious. Indeed the interest in Gnosticism today—and stretching back about a century—is itself proof that Western civilization (it used to be called Christendom) is beginning to fall apart. We have entered precisely the same kind of historical period in which Gnosticism once flourished. It was itself one of the “new age” phenomena of the Roman imperial period.
But there is an interest. And with that in mind I would suggest that people with a serious interest in understanding Gnosticism should obtain The Gnostic Religion, written by Hans Jonas. The book originally appeared in 1958. It is available today as a paperback from Amazon and other sellers. Jonas’ is a comprehensive presentation of the subject, placed in its own historical context. He carefully preserves, but properly sorts, the confusions and complexities. He lays out the significant doctrines in sufficient detail, traces the branches of Gnosticism, and, at the end, he also attempts to link the phenomenon to his own era. To put it in a nutshell, he links Gnosticism to existentialism. Which, by the way, initially surprised me. But after pondering the matter, I saw the justice of Jonas’ joining of the two. And, yes, I’d read the whole mind-numbing length of Sartre’s Being and Nothingness. I’ve lived on the Borderzone a long time. I began, in my youth, with people like Nietzsche and Søren Kierkegaard. I once actually read a whole paragraph of Husserl! Heiddegger’s name is one I recognize, and I can give a decent capsule of his central concerns. So I had, you might say, the minimal adequacy to recognize where Hans Jonas was coming from—and whither he was headed.
If the last paragraph is intimidating, it is meant to be. Life on the Borderzone is not light entertainment; it can be used for that—but then so can most things. The materials I present here, however, will benefit the solitary few who hear the call to understand in a genuine way. And where Gnosticism is concerned, a good starting point is Jonas’ book.
Hans Jonas (1903-1993) was a German-born philosopher; he died in the United States. He studied under Husserl and Heiddegger and was drawn to Gnosticism by presentiments within those doctrines of similarities to his own existential leanings. Jonas had many careers—and in philosophy at least three. His earliest phase was the study of Gnosticism and the linking of it to modernity. Later he became what might be called an environmentalist. And last, he developed his own existential view of biology and life in general, casting it in ethical terms.
Gnosticism, for me, is a window into the realms beyond—with an emphasis on the beyond. After having read The Gnostic Religion, encouraged by the powerful insights contained within it, by its synthesizing powers, by the hint that, as the next step, Jonas might advance into the brighter light by means of Gnosticism, I spent around fifty dollars to acquire Jonas’ chief later writings. But this time I was disappointed. When I look through the existential window, I see Being, as it were; but the hard existentialist—and Jonas was of this variety—when he looks through that window, he sees Nothingness. And then the Stoic bravery is to act responsibly despite the yawning nihil over there. But that doesn’t make sense to me. Then, again, I’m of the next generation over.
But there is an interest. And with that in mind I would suggest that people with a serious interest in understanding Gnosticism should obtain The Gnostic Religion, written by Hans Jonas. The book originally appeared in 1958. It is available today as a paperback from Amazon and other sellers. Jonas’ is a comprehensive presentation of the subject, placed in its own historical context. He carefully preserves, but properly sorts, the confusions and complexities. He lays out the significant doctrines in sufficient detail, traces the branches of Gnosticism, and, at the end, he also attempts to link the phenomenon to his own era. To put it in a nutshell, he links Gnosticism to existentialism. Which, by the way, initially surprised me. But after pondering the matter, I saw the justice of Jonas’ joining of the two. And, yes, I’d read the whole mind-numbing length of Sartre’s Being and Nothingness. I’ve lived on the Borderzone a long time. I began, in my youth, with people like Nietzsche and Søren Kierkegaard. I once actually read a whole paragraph of Husserl! Heiddegger’s name is one I recognize, and I can give a decent capsule of his central concerns. So I had, you might say, the minimal adequacy to recognize where Hans Jonas was coming from—and whither he was headed.
If the last paragraph is intimidating, it is meant to be. Life on the Borderzone is not light entertainment; it can be used for that—but then so can most things. The materials I present here, however, will benefit the solitary few who hear the call to understand in a genuine way. And where Gnosticism is concerned, a good starting point is Jonas’ book.
Hans Jonas (1903-1993) was a German-born philosopher; he died in the United States. He studied under Husserl and Heiddegger and was drawn to Gnosticism by presentiments within those doctrines of similarities to his own existential leanings. Jonas had many careers—and in philosophy at least three. His earliest phase was the study of Gnosticism and the linking of it to modernity. Later he became what might be called an environmentalist. And last, he developed his own existential view of biology and life in general, casting it in ethical terms.
Gnosticism, for me, is a window into the realms beyond—with an emphasis on the beyond. After having read The Gnostic Religion, encouraged by the powerful insights contained within it, by its synthesizing powers, by the hint that, as the next step, Jonas might advance into the brighter light by means of Gnosticism, I spent around fifty dollars to acquire Jonas’ chief later writings. But this time I was disappointed. When I look through the existential window, I see Being, as it were; but the hard existentialist—and Jonas was of this variety—when he looks through that window, he sees Nothingness. And then the Stoic bravery is to act responsibly despite the yawning nihil over there. But that doesn’t make sense to me. Then, again, I’m of the next generation over.
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