The gospel version was: “in the beginning was the word.”
That is a very attractive idea for the intellectual, the creature of formulas,
chalkboards, debates, science, and all that stuff. The word gets a big
advantage, heritage-wise, and can lord it over the rest of creation.
However, as we know, the Gospel of John touches on gnostic
heresy. It is the most philosophical of the gospels. In Genesis, the star turn
is taken by the creation of the heavens and the earth – not by the instrument
God uses. Whereas there is a variant within gnostic belief (gnostic gathering
together the mixed cosmic schemes of the first to third century A.D.) that I
have some sympathy with. This variant took a dim view of the heavens and the
earth. In a sense, in this view, “in the
beginning was the mistake.” The mistake was, precisely, to begin. And the
reason that mistake was made was the subject of the colorful mythologies that
we can extract from obscure texts by Origen and Iraneaus, who were always
slagging Gnostic groups with delightful descriptions. For those with the kind
of pre-disposition for it – those Blakeans among us – the heresies listed in
Iraneaus or Origen are objects of revery. What if we lived in a culture where
we believed that the seven heavens were guarded by seven totemic beasts?
(1) Michael the
lion-like, (2) Suriel the bull-like, (3) Raphael
the serpent-like, (4)
Gabriel the eagle-like, (5) Thautabaoth the bearlike,
(6) Erathaoth the dog-like, and (7) Thartharaoth (Celsus:
Thaphabaoth) or Onoel the donkey-like. – Tuomas Rasimus, 18.
Onoel the Donkey-like is an entity I wouldn’t mind praying
to. Donkeys are the most spiritual of animals. They have long been the
philosophers friend. Giordano Bruni was especially fond of his donkey, and
wrote a sort of spoof, an ass fest. Would that there were more of these.
It is no longer the case that the gnostics are simply obscure bogeymen of obscure theologians. We know more, now, than we’ve known in 1500
years about them, or about the scattered heresies that have been categorized as
Gnostic, due to the Nag Hammadi Library and other manuscript discoveries.
That almost all the heresies the early church fathers discuss are now called gnostic shows a very interesting interchange between the two terms, as though any deviation from Christian orthodoxy must become gnostic. Heresy is derived not from the Greek word for error, but from the
word for choice: haireo. A heresy is perseverance in choice - which opposes it to perseverence in faith. It has long been the reigning idea among heavy
thinking conservatives that liberalism, and indeed, modernity itself, is a form
of heresy - or gnosticism. Eric Voegelin was the
most famous proponent of this idea, and it allowed him to label both Marx and
Nietzsche and the modernist everyman as gnostic. You can tell a gnostic, to
make Voegelin sound a bit like J.Edgar Hoover on Communism, by the way he cuts
off questions. Voegelin has a peculiar notion of what cutting off questions
means. Because Voegelin wants to say that there is, at the foundation of
society, a transcendence that he gets all mushy about in the usual philosophical way (At the opening of the soul—that is the metaphor
Berg son uses to de scribe the event—the order of being be comes visible even
to its ground and origin in the beyond, in the Platonic epekeina, in
which the soul participates as it suffers and achieves its opening), he is making a claim. But it is made in the weird way that we get there from the possibility opened up by questioning
whether man is just a part of nature, whether, that is, the social order does reflect something transcendent. Possibility is magically transmuted into a claim by way of the question: interrogation becomes assertion, and assertion becomes opening. Well, two can play at that game, and one wonders why we couldn’t open up the possibility that
this isn’t so by questioning whether transcendence makes sense, opening up the possibilty of a world in which transcendence doesn't make sense. In Voegelin’s view, I guess, you
can go up the staircase but not down it.
Voegelin might nevertheless be right that there is somethng distinctly gnostic about modernity. Voegelin’s notion is that the very notion of alienation is the clue that the gnostic hunter should be looking for, since for the gnostics, matter is the primal sin, and man is forced to live as matter and among matter like a prisoner.
But given the alchemy of questioning, this prison, for the modern gnostic, must be a form of self-deception that does not actually ultimately fool the self, which has the power to question and can, as aforesaid, open itself wide.
Voegelin then draws up a model of self-deception or intellectual swindling in three moments:
“On the surface lies the deception it self. It could be self-deception;
and very often it is, when the speculation of a creative thinker has culturally
degenerated and become the dogma of a mass move ment. But when the phenom non
is apprehended at its point of origin, as in Marx or Nietzsche, deeper than the
deception itself will be found the awareness of it. The thinker does not lose
control of himself: the libido dominandi turns on its own
work and wishes to master the deception as well. This gnostic turning back on
itself corresponds spiritually, as we have said, to the philosophic conversion,
the periagoge in the Platonic sense. However, the gnostic
movement of the spirit does not lead to the erotic open ing of the soul, but
rather to the deepest reach of
persistence in the deception, where revolt against God is revealed to be
its motive and purpose.”
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