emancipation from the fetters of human existence. Doctrines of this
kind were taught especially in the Orphic Mysteries, where it was a
secret doctrine ([Greek: aporrêtos logos], Plat. _Phædr._ 62) that
"we men are here in a kind of prison," or in a tomb ([Greek: sêma
tines to sôma einai tês psychês, ôs tethammenês en tô paronti],
Plat. _Crat._ 400). They also believed in transmigration of souls, and
in a [Greek: kuklos tês geneseôs] (rota fati et generationis). The
"Orphic life," or rules of conduct enjoined upon these mystics,
comprised asceticism, and, in particular, abstinence from flesh; and
laid great stress on "following of God" [Greek: epesthai] or
[Greek: akolouthein tô theô] as the goal of moral endeavour. This cult,
however, was tinged with Thracian barbarism; its heaven was a kind of
Valhalla ([Greek: methê aiônios], Plat. _Rep._ ii. 363). Very similar
was the rule of life prescribed by the Pythagorean brotherhood, who
were also vegetarians, and advocates of virginity. Their system of
purgation, followed by initiation, liberated men "from the grievous
woeful circle" ([Greek: kyklou d'exeptan Barypentheos argaleoio] on a
tombstone), and entitled them "to a happy life with the gods." (For
the conception of salvation as deification, see Appendix C.) Whether
these sects taught that our separate individuality must be merged is
uncertain; but among the Gnostics, who had much in common with the
Orphic _mystæ_, the formula, "I am thou, and thou art I," was common
(_Pistis Sophia_; formulæ of the Marcosians; also in an invocation of
Hermes: [Greek: to son onoma emon kai to emon son. egô gar eimi to
eidôlon son]. Rohde, _Psyche_, vol. ii. p. 61). A foretaste of this
deliverance was given by initiation, which conducts the mystic to
_ecstasy_, an [Greek: oligochronios mania] (Galen), in which "animus
ita solutus est et vacuus ut ei plane nihil sit cum corpore" (Cic. _De
Divin._ i. I. 113); which was otherwise conceived as [Greek:
enthousiasmos] ([Greek: enthousiôsês kai ouketi ousês en eautê dianoias],
Philo).
(c) The imperishable Divine nature is infused by mechanical means.
Sacraments and the like have a magical or miraculous potency. The
Homeric hymn to Demeter insists only on _ritual_ purity as the
condition of salvation, and we hear that people trusted to the mystic
baptism to wash out all their previous sins. Similarly the baptism of
blood, the _taurobolium_, was supposed to secure eternal happiness,
at any rate if death occurred within twenty years after the ceremony;
when that interval had elapsed, it was common to renew the rite. (We
find on inscriptions such phrases as "arcanis perfusionibus in
æternum renatus.") So mechanical was the operation of the Mysteries
supposed to be, that rites were performed for the dead (Plat. _Rep._
364. St. Paul seems to refer to a similar custom in 1 Cor. xv. 29),
and infants were appointed "priests," and thoroughly initiated, that
they might be clean from their "original sin." Among the Gnostics, a
favourite phrase was that initiation releases men "from the fetters of
fate and necessity"; the gods of the intelligible world ([Greek:
theoi noêtoi]) with whom we hold communion in the Mysteries being
above "fate."
(d) Salvation consists of moral regeneration. The efficacy of
initiation without moral reformation naturally appeared doubtful to
serious thinkers. Diogenes is reported to have asked, "What say you?
Will Patæcion the thief be happier in the next world than
Epaminondas, because he has been initiated?" And Philo says, "It often
happens that good men are not initiated, but that robbers, and
murderers, and lewd women are, if they pay money to the initiators and
hierophants." Ovid protests against the immoral doctrine of mechanical
purgation with more than his usual earnestness (_Fasti_, ii. 35):--
"Omne nefas omnemque mali purgamina causam
Credebant nostri tollere posse senes.
Græcia principium moris fuit; ilia nocentes
Impia lustratos ponere facta putat.
A! nimium faciles, qui tristia crimina cædis
Fluminea tolli posse putetis aqua!"
Such passages show that abuses existed, but also that it was felt to
be a scandal if the initiated person failed to exhibit any moral
improvement.
These different conceptions of the office of the Mysteries cannot, as
I have said, be separated historically. They all reappear in the
history of the Christian sacraments. The main features of the
Mystery-system which passed into Catholicism are the notions of
secrecy, of symbolism, of mystical brotherhood, of sacramental grace,
and, above all, of the three stages in the spiritual life, ascetic
purification, illumination, and [Greek: epopteia] as the crown.
The secrecy observed about creeds and liturgical forms had not much to
do with the development of Mysticism, except by associating sacredness
with obscurity (cf. Strabo, x. 467, [Greek: hê krypsis hê mystikê
semnopoiei to theion, mimoumenê tên physin autou ekpheugousan tên
aisthêsin]), a tendency which also showed itself in the love of
symbolism. This certainly had a great influence, both in the form of
allegorism (cf. Clem. _Strom_, i. 1. 15, [Greek: esti de ha kai
ainixetai moi hê graphê; peirasetai de kai ganthanousa eipein kai
epikryptomenê ekphênai kai deixai siôpôsa]), which Philo calls "the
method of the Greek Mysteries," and in the various kinds of
Nature-Mysticism. The great value of the Mysteries lay in the facilities
which they offered for free symbolical interpretation.
The idea of mystical union by means of a common meal was, as we have
seen, familiar to the Greeks. For instance, Plutarch says (_Non fosse
suav. vivi sec. Epic._ 21), "It is not the wine or the cookery that
delights us at these feasts, but good hope, and the belief that God is
present with us, and that He accepts our service graciously." There
have always been two ideas of sacrifice, alike in savage and civilised
cults--the mystical, in which it is a _communion_, the victim who is
slain and eaten being himself the god, or a symbol of the god; and the
commercial, in which something valuable is offered to the god in the
hope of receiving some benefit in exchange. The Mysteries certainly
encouraged the idea of communion, and made it easier for the Christian
rite to gather up into itself all the religious elements which can be
contained in a sacrament of this kind.
But the scheme of ascent from [Greek: katharsis] to [Greek: myêsis], and
from [Greek: myêsis] to [Greek: epopteia], is the great contribution of
the Mysteries to Christian Mysticism. Purification began, as we have seen,
with confession of sin; it proceeded by means of fasting (with which was
combined [Greek: agneia apo synousias]) and meditation, till the second
stage, that of illumination, was reached. The majority were content with
the partial illumination which belonged to this stage, just as in books of
Roman Catholic divinity "mystical theology" is a summit of perfection to
which "all are not called." The elect advance, after a year's interval at
least, to the full contemplation ([Greek: epopteia]). This highest truth
was conveyed in various ways--by visible symbols dramatically displayed,
by solemn words of mysterious import; by explanations of enigmas and
allegories and dark speeches (cf. Orig. _Cels._ vii. 10), and perhaps
by "visions and revelations." It is plain that this is one of the
cases in which Christianity conquered Hellenism by borrowing from it
all its best elements; and I do not see that a Christian need feel any
reluctance to make this admission.
APPENDIX C
The Doctrine Of Deification
The conception of salvation as the acquisition by man of Divine
attributes is common to many forms of religious thought. It was widely
diffused in the Roman Empire at the time of the Christian revelation,
and was steadily growing in importance during the first centuries of
our era. The Orphic Mysteries had long taught the doctrine. On
tombstones erected by members of the Orphic brotherhoods we find such
inscriptions as these: "Happy and blessed one! Thou shalt be a god
instead of a mortal" ([Greek: olbie kai makariste theos d' esê anti
brotoio]); "Thou art a god instead of a wretched man" ([Greek: theos
ei eleeinou ex anthrôpou]). It has indeed been said that "deification
was the idea of salvation taught in the Mysteries" (Harnack).
To modern ears the word "deification" sounds not only strange, but
arrogant and shocking. The Western consciousness has always tended to
emphasise the distinctness of individuality, and has been suspicious
of anything that looks like juggling with the rights of persons, human
or Divine. This is especially true of thought in the Latin countries.
_Deus_ has never been a fluid concept like [Greek: theos]. St.
Augustine no doubt gives us the current Alexandrian philosophy in a
Latin dress; but this part of his Platonism never became acclimatised
in the Latin-speaking countries. The Teutonic genius is in this matter
more in sympathy with the Greek; but we are Westerns, while the later
"Greeks" were half Orientals, and there is much in their habits of
thought which is strange and unintelligible to us. Take, for instance,
the apotheosis of the emperors. This was a genuinely Eastern mode of
homage, which to the true European remained either profane or
ridiculous. But Vespasian's last joke, "_Voe! puto Deus fio!_" would
not sound comic in Greek. The associations of the word [Greek: theos]
were not sufficiently venerable to make the idea of deification
([Greek: theopoiêsis]) grotesque. We find, as we should expect, that
this vulgarisation of the word affected even Christians in the
Greek-speaking countries. Not only were the "barbarous people" of
Galatia and Malta ready to find "theophanies" in the visits of
apostles, or any other strangers who seemed to have unusual powers,
but the philosophers (except the "godless Epicureans") agreed in
calling the highest faculty of the soul Divine, and in speaking of
"the God who dwells within us." There is a remarkable passage of
Origen (quoted by Harnack) which shows how elastic the word [Greek:
theos] was in the current dialect of the educated. "In another sense
God is said to be an immortal, rational, moral Being. In this sense
every gentle ([Greek: asteia]) soul is God. But God is otherwise
defined as the self-existing immortal Being. In this sense the souls
that are enclosed in wise men are not gods." Clement, too, speaks of
the soul as "training itself to be God." Even more remarkable than
such language (of which many other examples might be given) is the
frequently recurring accusation that bishops, teachers, martyrs,
philosophers, etc., are venerated with Divine or semi-Divine honours.
These charges are brought by Christians against pagans, by pagans
against Christians, and by rival Christians against each other. Even
the Epicureans habitually spoke of their founder Epicurus as "a god."
If we try to analyse the concept of [Greek: theos], thus loosely and
widely used, we find that the prominent idea was that exemption from
the doom of death was the prerogative of a Divine Being (cf. 1 Tim.
vi. 16, "Who _only_ hath immortality"), and that therefore the gift of
immortality is itself a deification. This notion is distinctly adopted
by several Christian writers. Theophilus says (_ad Autol._ ii. 27)
"that man, by keeping the commandments of God, may receive from him
immortality as a reward ([Greek: misthon]), _and become God._" And
Clement (_Strom._ v. 10. 63) says, "To be imperishable ([Greek: to mê
phtheiresthai]) is to share in Divinity." To the same effect
Hippolytus (_Philos._ x. 34) says, "Thy body shall be immortal and
incorruptible as well as thy soul. For _thou hast become God_. All the
things that follow upon the Divine nature God has promised to supply
to thee, for _thou wast deified in being born to immortality_." With
regard to later times, Harnack says that "after Theophilus, Irenæus,
Hippolytus, and Origen, the idea of deification is found in all the
Fathers of the ancient Church, and that in a primary position. We have
it in Athanasius, the Cappadocians, Apollinaris, Ephraem Syrus,
Epiphanius, and others, as also in Cyril, Sophronius, and late Greek
and Russian theologians. In proof of it, Ps. lxxxii. 6 ('I said, Ye
are gods') is very often quoted." He quotes from Athanasius, "He
became man that we might be deified"; and from Pseudo-Hippolytus, "If,
then, man has become immortal, he will be God."
This notion grew within the Church as chiliastic and apocalyptic
Christianity faded away. A favourite phrase was that the Incarnation,
etc., "abolished death," and brought mankind into a state of
"incorruption" ([Greek: aphtharsia]) This transformation of human
nature, which is also spoken of as [Greek: theopoiêsis] is the
highest work of the Logos. Athanasius makes it clear that what he
contemplates is no pantheistic merging of the personality in the
Deity, but rather a renovation after the original type.
But the process of deification may be conceived of in two ways: (a)
as essentialisation, (b) as substitution. The former may perhaps be
called the more philosophical conception, the latter the more
religious. The former lays stress on the high calling of man, and his
potential greatness as the image of God; the latter, on his present
misery and alienation, and his need of redemption. The former was the
teaching of the Neoplatonic philosophy, in which the human mind was
the throne of the Godhead; the latter was the doctrine of the
Mysteries, in which salvation was conceived of realistically as
something imparted or infused.
The notion that salvation or deification consists in realising our
true nature, was supported by the favourite doctrine that like only
can know like. "If the soul were not essentially Godlike ([Greek:
theoeidês]), it could never know God." This doctrine might seem to
lead to the heretical conclusion that man is [Greek: omoousios tô
Patri] in the same sense as Christ. This conclusion, however, was
strongly repudiated both by Clement and Origen. The former (_Strom._
xvi. 74) says that men are _not_ [Greek: meros theou kai tô theô
omoousioi]; and Origen (_in Joh._ xiii. 25) says it is very impious to
assert that we are [Greek: omoousioi] with "the unbegotten nature."
But for those who thought of Christ mainly as the Divine Logos or
universal Reason, the line was not very easy to draw. Methodius says
that every believer must, through participation in Christ, be born as
a Christ,--a view which, if pressed logically (as it ought not to be),
implies either that our nature is at bottom identical with that of
Christ, or that the life of Christ is substituted for our own. The
difficulty as to whether the human soul is, strictly speaking, "divinæ
particula auræ," is met by Proclus in the ingenious and interesting
passage quoted p. 34; "There are," he says, "three sorts of _wholes_,
(1) in which the whole is anterior to the parts, (2) in which the
whole is composed of the parts, (3) which knits into one stuff the
parts and the whole ([Greek: hê tois holois ta merê sunyphainousa])."
This is also the doctrine of Plotinus, and of Augustine. God is not
split up among His creatures, nor are they essential to Him in the
same way as He is to them. Erigena's doctrine of deification is
expressed (not very clearly) in the following sentence (_De Div. Nat._
iii. 9): "Est igitur participatio divinæ essentiæ assumptio.
Assumptio vero eius divinæ sapientiæ fusio quæ est omnium substantia
et essentia, et quæcumque in eis naturaliter intelliguntur."
According to Eckhart, the _Wesen_ of God transforms the soul into
itself by means of the "spark" or "apex of the soul" (equivalent to
Plotinus' [Greek: kentron psychês], _Enn._ vi. 9. 8), which is "so
akin to God that it is one with God, and not merely united to Him."
The history of this doctrine of the spark, and of the closely
connected word _synteresis_, is interesting. The word "spark" occurs
in this connexion as early as Tatian, who says (_Or._ 13): "In the
beginning the spirit was a constant companion of the soul, but forsook
it because the soul would not follow it; yet it retained, as it were,
a spark of its power," etc. See also Tertullian, _De Anima_, 41. The
curious word _synteresis_ (often misspelt _sinderesis_), which plays a
considerable part in mediæval mystical treatises, occurs first in
Jerome (on _Ezech._ i.): "Quartamque ponunt quam Græci vocant [Greek:
syntêrêsin], quæ scintilla conscientiæ in Cain quoque pectore non
exstinguitur, et qua victi voluptatibus vel furore nos peccare
sentimus.... In Scripturis [eam] interdum vocari legimus Spiritum."
Cf. Rom. viii. 26; 2 Cor. ii. 11. Then we find it in Alexander of
Hales, and in Bonaventura, who (_Itinerare_, c. I) defines it as "apex
mentis seu scintilla"; and more precisely (_Breviloquium, Pars_ 2, c.
11): "Benignissimus Deus quadruplex contulit ei adiutorium, scilicet
duplex naturæ et duplex gratiæ. Duplicem enim indidit rectitudinem
ipsi naturæ, videlicet unam ad recte iudicandum, et hæc est rectitudo
conscientiæ, aliam ad recte volendum, et hæc est synteresis, cuius est
remurmurare contra malum et stimulare ad bonum." Hermann of Fritslar
speaks of it as a power or faculty in the soul, wherein God works
immediately, "without means and without intermission." Ruysbroek
defines it as the natural will towards good implanted in us all, but
weakened by sin. Giseler says: "This spark was created with the soul
in all men, and is a clear light in them, and strives in every way
against sin, and impels steadily to virtue, and presses ever back to
the source from which it sprang." It has, says Lasson, a double
meaning in mystical theology, (a) the ground of the soul; (b) the
highest ethical faculty. In Thomas Aquinas it is distinguished from
"intellectus principiorum," the former being the highest activity of
the moral sense, the latter of the intellect. In Gerson, "synteresis"
is the highest of the affective faculties, the organ of which is the
intelligence (an emanation from the highest intelligence, which is God
Himself), and the activity of which is contemplation. Speaking
generally, the earlier scholastic mystics regard it as a remnant of
the sinless state before the fall, while for Eckhart and his school it
is the core of the soul.