Материал: The Routledge Companion to the Study of Religion by John Hinnells

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different types of religious experience. The numinous is an experience of a transcendent otherness and tends to be dualistic, theistic and prophetic in nature. In stark contrast mystical experiences involve an overwhelming appreciation of the underlying unity of existence and an overcoming of dualistic boundaries between self and other. Smart argues that recognition of the difference between these two types of religious experience allows us to appreciate the relative role and significance of such experiences within the various world religions. Traditions which privilege the numinous such as mainstream Judaism, Islam (except Sufism) and mainstream Protestantism tend to devalue, or at least accord far less value to, mystical experiences. On the other hand some traditions explicitly favour mystical experiences of union, according them more authority than numinous experiences of a wholly other. For Smart this category is represented by Theravada Buddhism, Jainism and Samkhya-Yoga.

However, there are a number of religions that accept the validity of both the numinous and the mystical, though usually with one placed above the other according to the dominant doctrinal stance of the tradition. Thus, for the Advaita Vedanta, the Hindu school or radical monism, a theistic appreciation of the divine is accorded provisional status but only for as long as one has not achieved a direct realisation of the identity of oneself with Brahman – the absolute ground of all being. Similarly, in some Mahayana forms of Buddhism there is an acceptance of devotional beliefs and practices, though these are ultimately to be relinquished once one realises that everything is empty of inherent existence (shunya-svabhava). On the other hand, Roman Catholicism generally values the numinous (as Christianity in general has done throughout its history), but does accord some validity to the mystical path, so long as it remains within the boundaries of orthodoxy. As Smart’s analysis suggests then, the problem for the Christian mystic historically has been explaining how an experience of union with the divine remains within the boundaries of an orthodoxy founded upon the truth of the numinous experience. This has led most Christian mystics to provide analogies and descriptions of their experiences which safeguard the numinous regard for dualism, whilst at the same time emphasising the unity of God and the soul. Thus, the predominant Christian analogy for such experiences has been of a loving communion between a bridegroom (God) and his bride (the soul). Those mystics who have offered a more straightforward monistic interpretation of their experiences (such as the Muslim al-Ghazali and the Dominican theologian Meister Eckhart) have incurred the wrath of their respective religious authorities and been branded heretics by their critics. Similarly, in Theravada Buddhism, faith (shraddha) and devotion to the Buddha is accorded less authority than an experience of one of the higher jhanas, where distinctions between subject and object are relinquished.

How many types of mysticism are there?

Much of the literature on the study of mysticism, particularly in the 1970s and 1980s, has been concerned with questions of classification. How many different types of mysticism are there? Some writers, most notably Aldous Huxley, have argued that mysticism represents a common core or thread that is present in all of the major world religions. As that which unites all religions, mysticism therefore constitutes a perennial philosophy which occurs in a variety of different cultural and religious contexts throughout human history. In his book, The Perennial Philosophy (1944), Huxley provides selections from the writings of a variety of mystics the world over (in English translation) as a means of demonstrating their fundamental unanimity. Other scholars, such as R. C. Zaehner, have rejected this view arguing that the doctrinal differences between these figures are too profound to be ignored or pushed under

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the carpet. Zaehner suggests that there are three fundamental types of mysticism: theistic, monistic and panenhenic (‘all-in-one’) or nature mysticism. The theistic category includes most forms of Jewish, Christian and Islamic mysticism and occasional Hindu examples such as Ramanuja and the Bhagavad Gita. Theistic mysticism is considered by Zaehner to be superior to the other two categories not only in its appreciation of God and His creation but also in the strong moral imperative that it provides. The monistic type, which Zaehner argues is based upon an experience of the unity of one’s own soul, includes Buddhism and Hindu schools such as Samkhya and Advaita Vedanta. Finally, panenhenic or nature mysticism seems to refer to those examples that do not fit easily into his theistic or monistic categories. For Zaehner any experience of unity or fusion with the outside world, whether induced by drugs, the animistic experiences of (so-called) ‘primitive’ religions, or the writings of poets such as Wordsworth and Blake can be placed in this category. A number of scholars, notably Ninian Smart (see Woods, 1980: 78–91) and Frits Staal (1975: 73–5), have criticised Zaehner for the theological violence his approach does to non-theistic traditions, forcing them into a framework which privileges Zaehner’s own liberal Catholicism. Buddhism, for instance, rejects monism as a philosophical position along with any notions of a permanent soul, and the Hindu school of Samkhya is avowedly dualistic in nature.

Zaehner is also criticised by Walter T. Stace in his book Mysticism and Philosophy (1960) on similar grounds. Stace argues that doctrinal differences between religious traditions are inappropriate criteria when making cross-cultural comparisons of mystical experiences. Mystics of course are predisposed to describe their experiences according to their own cultural and doctrinal background. These differences in Âinterpretation do not necessarily represent differences in the nature of the experiences themselves. Nevertheless, for Stace mystical experiences can be classified into two basic types: introvertive and extrovertive. Introvertive experiences constitute the mystical core of religion, being an introspective and non-sensory awareness of the unity of all things. The extrovertive experience is only a partial realisation of this union, being an outwardly focused and sensory apprehension of the harmony of the universe.

Mystical experience and interpretation

The question of the relationship between mystical experiences and their interpretation has become one of the central concerns of the contemporary study of mysticism. For scholars such as Stace and Smart mystical experiences are phenomenologically the same crossculturally but differ as a result of the specific interpretations or doctrinal ramifications that are subsequently applied to them by mystics. However, scholars such as Steven Katz reject any attempt to drive a wedge between experiences and their interpretations. Katz argues that it is not just the interpretation but the experience itself which is conditioned by the cultural and religious background of the mystic. Christian mystics have Christian mystical experiences and Buddhists have Buddhist ones. This should not surprise us, Katz argues, since this is precisely what the culture and traditions of these mystics condition them to experience (1978: 26–7).

According to Katz – it is not possible to have a pure or unmediated experience. There is no such thing, he argues, as an experience that is free from interpretation or any recognisable content. Katz describes his work as a ‘plea for recognition of differences’. There is no perennial philosophy or cross-cultural unanimity between mystics of different religious traditions. Contrary to perennialists such as Huxley and Stace, Katz argues that when a Buddhist

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speaks of emptiness and Meister Eckhart discusses the nothingness of the Godhead they are not saying the same thing at all. Buddhists reject the idea of an all-powerful creator deity, while Eckhart as a Dominican theologian takes this presupposition for granted. Whereas Buddhists believe that there are no absolute beings or entities (since everything is empty of independent or inherent existence), Christians like Eckhart believe that the world is such only because God – the absolute first cause of everything, creates it. Even the claim that the experience or underlying reality is ineffable does not necessarily imply a common core since if one cannot truly speak about the ultimate reality, how can one be sure one is speaking about the same ultimate reality?

It is probably fair to say that Katz’s position has become the dominant orientation amongst scholarship in the field of the comparative study of mysticism since the 1980s. However, more recently there have been a number of critical responses to Katz’s position, focusing particularly upon his claim that it is not possible to have an unmediated experience, devoid of conceptual or cultural baggage. It is clear for instance that Katz’s stance leaves no room for the unconditioned awareness of reality that is presumed in Buddhist notions of enlightenment (bodhi), the Daoist ideal of uncultivated spontaneity (zi-ran) and the non-conceptual state of meditation (nirvikalpa samadhi) advocated by many Hindu schools of thought, such as Yoga and Advaita Vedanta. Many scholars of mysticism have been understandably reluctant to rule out the fundamental goals of these traditions, effectively undermining the object of one’s analysis before one has even begun. Donald Evans, for instance, asks rhetorically who is Steven Katz to say that such unmediated experiences are impossible (Evans 1989: 54). Similarly, Robert Forman offers his own autobiographical account of such an experience as an empirical refutation of Katz’s thesis (1990: 28). Sallie King has also argued that the experience of drinking coffee, whilst clearly mediated by cultural factors and expectations, cannot be reduced to those factors alone. There is simply something about drinking coffee for the first time (whether one likes it or not) that can never be conveyed by descriptions or preparations for such an experience. The mediated aspect of the coffee drinking experience then is a factor but not the most significant aspect of the experience. As an alternative to Katz’s (neo-Kantian) model of experience King advocates the adoption of a more openended or agnostic approach which allows for the possibility of unmediated experiences, without necessarily implying that they provide insights into the nature of reality (King 1988: 277).

The question of drug–induced mysticism

Since time immemorial naturally occurring hallucinogens have been utilised in religious contexts to induce altered states of consciousness. The ancient Vedic hymns, dating from at least 1500 bce, contain many hymns to the god Soma, a psychotropic plant (possibly fly agaric) utilised in Vedic sacrificial rituals as a means of communing with the gods (deva) and intuiting the sacred meanings of the ritual act. Peyote has been used for millennia as a sacramental herb by native Americans as an aid on vision quests. In China, Daoist practitioners have utilised a variety of herbs to induce visions of the gods, as have shamans, in general, the world over.

The question of the status of drug-induced mystical experiences has been the subject of considerable discussion among contemporary scholars of mysticism. Broadly speaking, writers are separated into three camps. Some argue that drugs can expand the horizons of the mind allowing the subject to gain greater insight into the nature of reality. Classic exponents of

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this position have been Aldous Huxley and Timothy Leary, the so-called ‘LSD guru’ of the 1960s. Others reject this position, most notably the scholar R. C. Zaehner, who argue that drug-induced experiences are delusory, distorting our perception of reality. A third group, represented by scholars such as Frits Staal, remain open minded on this issue and call for further research.

In 1954 Aldous Huxley published The Doors of Perception, an account of his experimentsÂ

with the drug mescaline. Huxley described a mystical experience of the ‘unfathomable mystery of pure being’ where sensations became greatly enhanced and where he became aware of ‘being my Not-Self in the Not-Self which was the chair’ (Huxley 1954: 19). He also drew comparisons (without directly equating) his experiences with those found in the literature of the various world religions. Huxley’s account has been criticised by R. C. Zaehner, then Spalding Professor of Comparative Religion and Ethics at the University of Oxford, in his book Mysticism, Sacred and Profane (1957). Zaehner rejects Huxley’s claim that drug-induced mystical experiences offer greater insight into the nature of reality and also questions the belief that they resemble the mystical experiences of the major world religions. Zaehner’s own experiment with mescaline led to a trivial and uncomfortable experience and an upset stomach. Zaehner argued that while it may be possible to induce an experience of oneness with the natural world (a sensory or extrovertive experience of the world as a unity), it is not possible to induce an authentic experience of God through drugs since this would conflict with the Catholic doctrine of grace. One might respond by suggesting that the Creator has merely provided access to an appreciation of the divine by the creation of mindaltering substances in the natural world. Zaehner’s theological approach and the privileging of theistic forms of mysticism as superior will do little to convince those who do not share his particular religious beliefs and affiliation.

Clearly the expectations and the mindset of the individual subject have an important role to play in the evaluation of drug-induced experiences. Huxley was clearly influenced by Buddhism and Hindu Vedanta in his account of his experiences. Indeed, in a manner reminiscent of the neo-Hindu position of Swami Vivekananda, Huxley believed that his experiments with mescaline provided further evidence of the enduring validity of monistic experiences as well as the underlying unity of mysticism in the various world religions. Similarly, we can see the influence of Zaehner’s Roman Catholic affiliation in his own discussion of this question. One’s attitude and mind-set clearly influence the impact of the experience and the decision as to whether it is a case of mysterium tremendum or delirium tremens.

Nevertheless, even if one accepts that it is difficult to distinguish between drug-induced experiences and those achieved by other means (e.g. fasting, meditation, the grace of God, etc.), one might still reject the use of drugs for reasons other than the nature of the experience itself. As Frits Staal suggests, one of the traditional reasons for censuring the use of drugs to induce religious experiences is the potential threat this brings to institutionalised religion. Staal in fact suggests that the religious criticism of drugs is rather similar to the Church’s censure of Galileo’s telescope as an instrument of the Devil (Staal 1975: 176–7). As Alan Watts has argued ‘Mystical insight is no more in the chemical itself than biological knowledge is in the microscope’ (1965: 20, cited in Staal 1975: 176). Indeed for Watts, as for Huxley, mind-altering drugs are useful starters on the mystical path but can hardly function as a substitute for it. This is an important point to acknowledge since the nature and impact of an experience is clearly influenced by the context, length of preparation, motivations and expectations of the subject. One would expect greater significance to be attributed to

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experiences gained through the sacramental use of peyote than one would find in the case of a purely recreational use of drugs to achieve a temporary high. As the Hindu text, Yoga Sutra 1.12 suggests, states of higher awareness require the cultivation of detachment and vigilant practice to have any lasting impact. Staal (1975: 157) makes a similar point by drawing attention to the impact modern modes of transport can have on religious pilgrimages:

In many religions, pilgrimages are considered meritorious, partly because they require a certain amount of sacrifice or at least discomfort. But they also lead to a certain place, generally an inaccessible spot where a temple or other sacred structure or object exists. With the improvement of modern transportation most inaccessible places have become rather accessible … The difficult way has become the easy way … Of course, the physical result, viz. the presence of the worshipper-cum-traveller at a certain place, is just the same … But expectations grow and the subjective experience is generally not the same. This analogy indicates that we cannot eliminate the possibility that the physical and brain states of a college-kid who has taken a drug are in relevant respects the same as those of a Buddha. Yet their mental states (which might have physical correlates too) need not for that reason be identical.

Expectation and the duration of the path, therefore, can be instrumental factors in the depth of impact, long-term effects and nature of the final experience. Staal, however, remains critical of arguments based upon the immorality or dangerous nature of drug use. Many drugs have no chemically habitual aspect and although some may have long-term side effects if overused, so does staring through a telescope if done too often. Should we give up astronomy? Why, Staal asks, are activities such as the exploration of outer space or climbing Mt Everest to be admired, but the exploration of inner space through the careful and structured use of drugs to be rejected as dangerous and life threatening?

It is not surprising that the religious use of drugs has not met with the approval of the religious establishments. Institutionalised religions are not so much concerned with religious or mystical experience as with ethics, morality and the continuation of the status quo.

(Staal 1975: 176)

Nevertheless, Staal remains non-committal on the question of whether drugs clarify or distort our perception of reality. He argues, however, that mysticism should be investigated scientifically and critically, under controlled conditions. Such work must take seriously the mystical traditions and techniques being examined rather than subsuming them under a secular and reductionistic framework. ‘If mysticism is to be studied seriously’, Staal argues, ‘it should not merely be studied indirectly and from without, but also directly and from within’ (Staal 1975: 125). This requires an initial suspension of doubt concerning the truthfulness of the mystical system or technique being explored, but should also be followed at some stage by analysis and critical evaluation (1975: 135).