Does consciousness evolve and, if so, in what way and with what implications for our understanding of, say, a religious tradition’s development over time? A tradition that, in this case, is, at least, from a Western’ perspective, atrophying? Either retreating to the redoubt of a cognitively dissonant ‘fundamentalism’ or flattened out to a thin liberal version of the secular with morally ‘uplifting’ stories attached. Can it yet be something other than these two alternatives and can a re-imagination through the lens of an evolution of consciousness help?
Owen
Barfield thought it could. Barfield was one of the Inklings that remarkable
group of Christian intellectuals and authors of whom C.S. Lewis and J.R.
Tolkien were the most famous members. They sought to renew a living sense of
Christian tradition that would stand the test of its times and for whom the
critical keys were rigorous thought and compelling imagination.
Barfield’s
discovery was that our collective experience of life changes over time, the way
our consciousness processes the reality we behold changes significantly over
history. The first example of this, in the West, for Barfield was when we moved
from myth to logos in the middle of the first millennium BCE. It did this in
three phases. The first, he called ‘original participation’ where inner and
outer life is barely differentiated and the boundary between self and other is
exceptionally fluid. You live as a flow in a particular space where everything within
and around is animated with presence and forces into which you are woven. Your
life is collective. The second phase is what he called ‘withdrawal of
participation’ where a realization of separation and even isolation emerges and
an inner life, relatively felt as one’s own, comes into being. This is both
liberating and troubling at the same time – new questions are born, new answers
sought – as one becomes responsible for this new ‘self’ as it relates to that
which is ‘other’. The third phase, which Barfield called, ‘reciprocal
participation’ is a renewed negotiation between self and other, individual and
cosmos, person and God.
This
has not happened once but is a recurring pattern thought Barfield – the new
reciprocity leads to a deepening withdrawal and the emergence of a new
reconciling participation.
Barfield’s
argument for this process began in philology. Looking at the root meanings and
development of words gave you entrance into these shifts in ways of being.
Thus, for example, the original meaning of ‘pneuma’ in Greek was ‘wind-spirit’
neither one nor the other, neither outer force nor inner prompting but both as
undifferentiated reality. Words were ‘fossils’ giving insight into the
morphology of consciousness.
Mark
Vernon, in this beautifully written and artfully constructed book, uses
Barfield’s key insights and amplifying historical and literary scholarship, to
trace the development of Christianity’s two founding traditions – Athens and
Jerusalem – articulating how they embarked on similar journeys from original
participation to an individualizing break to a new sense of humanity’s place in
the cosmos. No longer inhabiting a field in which the gods pulled the strings
of fate into a world governed by a unitary, ordered universe in which
recognizable persons could, in freedom, respond either to Yahweh as person or
in law or to the ordering Good or Logos. These two traditions, Vernon argues,
merge in Christianity and give birth to a new dispensation, a new reconciling
participation, witnessed to and embodied in the person of Christ.
Vernon
proceeds to articulate both how Jesus is similar to the teachers of his time
and place and yet how he is consistently creative and novel and Christ’s task
is to deepen through a renewing inwardness, our ability to live and flourish in
a God gifted cosmos, to live in a dynamic freedom within consciousness of God. Jesus
did this by transforming the expectation of apocalypse as something that is to
come from the outside to a reality, the kingdom of God, that is present and
within us now and that invites practices that will help us to navigate its
reality, bringing it alive. Such practices included teaching in parables that
invite, require a transformation of perspective if they are to be understood
though are too often presented as flat bearers of morals and the privatization
of prayer that moves towards inward stillness and attentiveness to the God
present within. Vernon wants us to
recover a sense of Jesus’ invitation to this mystical life one that transforms
us into virtuous, alive human beings.
This
transformation developed into the fully fledged Christocentric view of the
world that was not itself divine ‘full of gods’ but was a gift of God; and,
together with Scripture, could be read as figuring forth divine meanings that
operated on many levels. This medieval view of the world was a participatory
one where our reality as made after God’s image inwardly met a God gifted
cosmos outwardly.
But,
this in turn, broke down at the Reformation. The Church outward sign of order
was perceived by Luther as corrupt leaving only Scripture as the guarantor of
salvation but since scripture had relied for its interpretation on a living
tradition now barren, scripture can only be interpreted by its individual
reader. The individual is both deepened in their seriousness and yet also
disconnected from the world around them. They become an observer of that world
and the groundwork is set for the Enlightenment and its rigorous separation of
the ‘subjective’ inner world of qualities and the ‘objective’ outer world of
quantities.
Barfield
saw that each of these shifts in consciousness bring both their light and their
shadows. Luther brought a renewed sense of the human, of individual rights and
ultimately, after much conflict, an expectation of tolerance yet as well as a
conflicted emphasis on the ‘self’, of me and mine. Science in its wake brought
wonders of insight and transformation yet now at the costliness of feeling
ourselves ‘above’ nature, ever-moving forward oblivious to the boundaries of
the possible, of life. A nature with only a utilitarian meaning.
As
we stand thus withdrawn are their signs of a renewing participation?
Barfield,
and Vernon following him, finds that there is and they invite us to reconsider
the role of imagination in our knowing. Imagination not as fantasy – the
assembling or re-assembling of the known as Coleridge called it – but as the
faculty through which we explore the world, creating new knowledge that resonates
with reality. Coleridge saw this faculty as our participation in the ‘I AM’ of
God’s imagining the world into being. This form of imagination and its practice
has been recognized by both artists and scientists as essential to revealing
what can be known and what, bounded by that, what is. Einstein used it to bring
to light his special theory of relativity, Blake to critique his world and its
many failings in the light of eternal values. Both recognized that such knowing
has its disciplines and essential to this knowing is our ability to enter into
it, ever anew, it shows forth a world known only to the participant, not simply
the observer. You have to learn to play and dance with reality if it is ever to
yield up its secrets and its secrets always lure you on into wider and wider
circles of discovery. As with the strange world of quantum mechanics seems to
imply the world is continually being birthed in the eye of its conscious
beholding.
That
brings us full circle to Christianity – as Karl Rahner (quoted by Vernon) noted
the Church if it were to survive would have to become a Church of mystics but,
as Vernon deftly shows, not mystics who have retreated into a redoubt mumbling
a worn out creed but mystics of the imagination re-engaging with a renewed,
renewing participation in a living cosmos, where wisdom and knowledge, art and
science blend into a new holistic imagining of things that guards what has been
gained and drops what has become dysfunctional that seeks to connect the inward
life of transformation and the outward life of participation that, in truth, is
one life – our consciousness being the inside not only of our selves but of the
world. It is what Jesus did with the patterns of thought and experience he was
heir to and if we are to ‘imitate’ him, we need to do likewise.
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