This is the introduction to a series of posts in which I will attempt to give a fuller and more vivid impression of what “gnosis” – a special type of knowing – is like, in its immediate impact and its lasting effects on consciousness, compared to anything I have found in the scholarly literature or in works for a more general audience.
There are many texts that illuminate this kind of spiritual knowing – which is itself almost always a powerful interior illumination – in vivid and beautiful ways, but as a general rule these are texts studied by scholars who do not typically bring together diverse sources in order to show, in a cumulative and multi-faceted fashion, what these sorts of experiences may be like for those who are fortunate enough to go through them.
This attempt on my part is fraught with all kinds of difficulties and problems from a scholarly point of view, but I have decided that expressing some of these things in this particular way is preferable to remaining silent out of respect for the conventions and precautions observed by scholars treating historical sources in their complex contexts. For example, I will not focus at all on the cultural, doctrinal, and personal backgrounds of those who are said to have experienced gnosis, or on the history of this term, or even on the fact that sometimes it seems as if everyone means something different by it.
Basically, I would like to lift up many voices testifying to a “family” comprising various states of dramatically heightened awareness, in order to give the reader fuller access to, and a more filled-in idea of, the “divinely illuminated” human mind – even though this risks giving the impression of “equating” the different textual accounts, each of which can certainly stand on its own and contains indications that do not appear in any other context. I would like to emphasize this last point: each account is, in my view, unique and irreplaceable, and no generalizations should be allowed to “adapt” any one of them to fit conceptual patterns that will, almost inevitably, be less revealing and less precise than the account itself.
As far as I am concerned, neither the idea of a universal and unchanging stream of wisdom, nor the idea of a simple diversity of texts and contexts that are not necessarily compatible, adequately represents the actual situation as we find it. Instead, we have a multitude of unique accounts of states of consciousness different from the everyday waking variety, which often speak to and resonate with each other – only, however, as perceived by a consciousness which itself resonates with them, whether that be in a scholarly way, in a devotional way, or in some other way.
Catherine of Siena (1347–1380) writes (taking up God’s perspective, as it were): “When she has experienced my consolation and my visitation within her in one way, and then that way ceases, she goes back along the road by which she had come, hoping to find the same thing again. … No, I give in many ways, as it pleases my goodness and according to the soul’s need. But in her foolishness she looks for my gift only in that one way, trying as it were to impose rules on the Holy Spirit” (The Dialogue, translated by Suzanne Noffke, Paulist Press, 1980). This is also true when we turn from one individual to another. Thus one should not expect experiences of gnosis to conform to one “way” or another, even though there will probably be certain characteristics that many ways share in common.
What am I talking about when I refer to gnosis? Some indications are in order.
The rest of this post is derived from a combination of my personal experience and having looked through the eyes of many who have experienced these things – sometimes to extremely intense degrees – by reading their words. For now, I will not attempt to discover how such a mixture is possible, which of the two kinds of source predominates in forming any one sentence, or how reliable – let alone universal – these conclusions may be. If you like, you can take it as an attempt to render a poetic – rather than a strictly analytical – description of the kind of knowing under discussion.
I am talking about extraordinarily powerful experiences. They are often overwhelming, but in a very good way.
Gnosis – to simplify my language, I will refer as if to a single case, though in reality these experiences are extremely diverse and ultimately deserve better than to be lumped together like this – usually takes place “invisibly” inside a person, though it is also liable to provoke outward expression, like wanting to tell the whole world about it.
It is usually felt as a kind of intimate initiation – often solitary, unplanned, and unpredictable – into a mysterious relationship with a force or forces previously unknown. These forces are understood by the initiate to be benevolent, though sometimes initially rather terrifying, or at least unfamiliar and disconcerting.
Gnosis is an acute intuitive knowledge and love. But knowledge and love of what? The experiencer may not know, or rather, it may be difficult to put one’s finger on – and it is certainly difficult to name – what or whom is known and loved.
It can be a kind of rebirth, but this time into a world which bears to this world the kind of relationship this world bears to the womb. It is to be born into a new relationship with this world, because the spiritual world that is opened to the gnostic’s mind orients consciousness in a new way – which is to be expected, given the introduction of entirely new dimensions of reality.
During or after the event, though in a sense things remain what they always were, their reality is sometimes witnessed as never before: perhaps “as nothing” in the face of the divine majesty; perhaps as constituting a vast prison from which escape is possible; or perhaps as continually replenished from their source, in a revelation of the sacred presence moving over and through the things, which had previously seemed solid and self-sustaining.
It is likely to be not only an intense burst of spiritual perception, but also an awakening, a remembering, and an ascent, which feels like it will not leave you the same person you were before.
It is usually a radical cognition and revelation of the inherently divine nature of the human being. If the ordinary self-perception of most people is far from the sensation of being consciously divine, gnosis is like a momentary return to a previously unremembered identity that always carries this sensation.
It can be a temporary transformation of the senses as well as the intellectual faculties. That is, one may perceive one’s physical surroundings in altered ways, just as one will experience one’s thoughts in new ways. Traditionally, the emphasis in describing gnosis is on thinking and feeling, rather than sensation, and this is not inaccurate, but sensation can also change dramatically during the experience. Another way of saying this is that both inner and outer senses are usually affected.
One is brought to life inwardly, as if for the first time. Looking back, one had been alive, certainly, but also not yet alive. Not that life would be meaningless without this, but that life would be radically incomplete. All else was, in a way, but a prelude to this, towards which life has been inevitably tending.
There is often a powerful sense of having finally arrived where one belongs.
In place of what had been previously conceived of as ultimate reality, there is, perhaps, something strange and wild, human and non-human, incomparably greater than anything previously known, closely interfused with the self and the world, yet transcending them totally, even as they now transcend themselves in a vision of dizzying perspective.
Gnosis can be a kind of resurrection, yet it can be a return to some primordial and original state before the soul’s birth into this world – perhaps even before the birth of this world.
It can be not only a nearness to, but a contact with, and even an immersion in the source of oneself and of all that is.
Perhaps it is not only an activation of a relationship with one’s personal God, but is like a glowing fire, or like a river that comes rushing, or like a spring that overflows. These are attempts to evoke the fact that it tends to be less an experience of two related entities, and more the experience of a single, dynamic activity or motion. One may feel carried along or held in someone’s awesome hand, but one may also be the carrying and the holding, so to speak.
It means that one is never alone again: there is always the presence of more than is perceived and more than one is by oneself. It is always there, hidden just out of sight: the source of one’s being, the life and light of all the worlds.
Gnosis has been described as intoxicating, yet it is often extremely sobering; it can be both at the same time.
It is likely to be a condition of profound rest and supreme peace, despite its dramatic emotions and cognitions.
It often contains both joy and sorrow. Still, intense joy – unlike any previously experienced – will typically flood one’s consciousness.
And the person is aware that what remains hidden far exceeds what is being revealed.
In future posts for this series, I would like to consider the definitions and observations of modern authors, but for the most part I look forward to engaging with the testimonies of primary-source witnesses from a number of spiritual traditions.