Philosophy and the Sense For Mystery | Josef Pieper | A
Selection from "For The Love of Wisdom: Essays on the Nature of Philosophy" | IgnatiusInsight.com
Philosophy and the Sense For Mystery | Josef Pieper | A
Selection from
For The Love of Wisdom: Essays on the Nature of Philosophy
http://www.ignatiusinsight.com/features2007/jpieper_philmystery_feb07.asp
In what follows, it
is not my intent to discuss what philosophy or certain philosophers have to
teach about a specific topic, "mystery". Rather, I shall be talking
about the notions of philosophy and philosophizing insofar as a specific
relation to mystery is peculiar to them.
I
During the high watermark of philosophical
self-awareness, which, however, appears to be coming to an end, one was prone
to forget that the notions of philosophy and philosophizing had from the outset
been conceived as negative concepts-at the very least, more like negative
concepts than positive ones. I need not repeat here the well-known tale of
Pythagoras, already a legend in classical antiquity, whereby this great teacher
of the sixth century B.C. was the first to coin the term
"philosophy": God alone can be called wise; man may at best be called
a wisdom-loving seeker after truth. [1] Plato, too, speaks of the difference
between wisdom and philosophy, between sophos and philosophos. In the Phaedrus, Plato has Socrates say that neither Solon nor Homer
should be described as "wise": "To call him wise, Phaedrus,
would I think be going too far; the epithet is proper only to a god. A name
that would fit him better, and have more seemliness, would be 'lover of
wisdom,' or something similar." [2] And Diotima, who in the Symposium gives voice to Plato's most profound thoughts,
expresses the same idea in the form of a negative: "[N]one of the gods are
seekers after truth" (that is, philosophizes). [3]
What else can this mean if not that from the very outset philosophy--and
philosophizing--were construed as something that is not sophia,
not wisdom, not knowledge, not understanding, not the
possession of truth?
This way of thinking is, however, not peculiar to Pythagoreanism or Platonism.
Aristotle, the initiator of a critical, scientific form of philosophizing,
proceeds farther along the same path, at least as far as metaphysics-the most
philosophical discipline--is concerned. And Thomas Aquinas, in his masterly
commentary on Aristotle's Metaphysics, accurately presents the views of that outstanding Greek when he
writes that the metaphysical truth about Being does not, strictly speaking,
fall to man as his possession ("non competit homini ut possessio");
it is not held by man as his property but rather as a loan ("sicut aliquid
mutuatum"). [4] Aquinas then goes on to endow this circumstance with a
speculative significance of such extreme depth that it can hardly be plumbed;
here all that can be done is to gesture toward it. Aquinas is arguing, namely,
that wisdom cannot be man's property precisely because it is being sought for
its own sake: what we possess fully is incapable of satisfying us to such a
degree that we would strive after it for its own sake: "That truth alone is sought for its own sake which does not fall to
man as his own possession." [5]
It is not that, on Aquinas' and Aristotle's view, man would be cut off from any
relation to sophia--this is
precisely what is not being said. The philosophical question does, indeed, aim
at wisdom; what in the act of philosophizing is inquired after is, in fact, an
ultimate, comprehending knowledge. But--and this can be affirmed with great certainty--we not only do not
possess such wisdom, but we are incapable of possessing it on principle, and
this is why we will also not possess it in the future. By contrast, we are
undoubtedly capable of possessing the answers provided by the special sciences
(they, on the other hand, cannot satisfy us to the degree that we would pursue
them "for their own sake".) It belongs to the very essence of a
philosophical question that it inquire after the definitive nature, the final
meaning, the ultimate origin of the real. A genuine philosophical question
takes the form: What is man, truth, knowledge, life, or whatever "in the
final analysis and as such"? Now that means that this type of query aims
by its very nature at an answer that both includes and expresses fully and
without qualification the essence of that which is being asked about. Such
questioning demands an answer in which, as Aquinas says (when he is defining
what it means to "comprehend"), "the thing is so far known as it
is intelligible in itself." [6] Accordingly, an adequate response to a
philosophical question would have to be one that exhausts its object, a
statement in which the intelligibility of the real thing being questioned is
drained off until nothing knowable is left and everything that remains is
known. I have said that this would be an adequate answer to a philosophical question;
"adequate" here means that the answer formally corresponds to the
question; the question, however, let us recall, concerns the definitive nature,
the ultimate origin of a real existing thing. The philosophical question aims,
by its very nature, at a comprehending response in the strict sense. Aquinas
would claim, however, that we are absolutely incapable of comprehending
anything-unless it is our own work (insofar as this really is our own work: the
marble as such is not part of the sculptor's work!).
All this implies that it belongs to the very essence of a philosophical
question that it cannot be answered in the same sense in which it is asked. On
this point, Plato, Aristotle, Augustine, and Aquinas find themselves in
complete agreement with the major traditions of mankind. And it would already
constitute a rationalistic aberration from the philosophia perennis were one to overlook this negative element in the
original conception of philosophy. Let us cast another glance at the tradition
of the philosophia perennis to
see whether such an unusual and perhaps even scandalous statement can really be
found there.
Aristotle, in an extremely festive and, as it were, very un-Aristotelian
formulation, says that the question of what Being is, "both now and of
old, has always been raised, and always been the subject of doubt.' [7] Aquinas
not only comments on this sentence without raising any objections, he uses such
formulations himself. For example, he himself notes that the exertions of all
the philosophers combined have not yet been sufficient to track down the
essence of even a single mosquito. [8] And how often does the sentence recur in
the Summa theologica and Quaestiones
disputatae de veritate: "We do not
know the essential differences between things", [9] which means that we do
not know the essence of the things themselves; and this is the reason why we
are also unable to give to them their essential names. Aquinas even goes so far
as to speak of the imbecillitas intellectus nostri, of the stupidity of our minds, which are not
adequate to the task of "reading off" in natural things what is
naturally revealed in them about God. [10]
It would then truly appear as if Aquinas had with a very extreme formulation
not only laid the foundation for a theologia negativa ("This is the highest form that man's knowledge
of God can take: to know that we do not know God insofar as we recognize that
God's essence lies beyond all that which we know of him" [11]) but also
formulated the guiding principle for something like a philosophia
negativa (although this neologism is
perhaps more at risk of being misunderstood and misapplied than that of the theologia
negativa).
This essential peculiarity of a philosophical question--aiming at an answer
that cannot be given adequately-distinguishes it from the questions of the
exact sciences. The sciences have a fundamentally different relation to their
respective objects; it belongs to the very nature of a science that it
formulate its question in such a way that it can be adequately answered-or at
least in such a way that it is not in principle unanswerable. One day the
medical profession will finally know what the ultimate cause of cancer is. But
the question concerning the essence of knowledge, of spirit, of life-the
question of the ultimate meaning of this whole world, so wonderful and awful at
the same time--these questions will never be definitively answered in a philosophical
manner, although they can certainly be expressed in a philosophical form. What
is explicitly und unmistakably being sought in the philosophical question is
knowledge of the highest cause (as Aquinas says, wisdom as such, genuine
wisdom, consists in just this knowledge), [12] but philosophy will persist in
this search, on this path, passionately inquiring, as long as man--and mankind
generally--is on this path, in statu viatoris. Thus any claim to have found the "cosmic
formula" can be dismissed without need of further inspection as
unphiosophical. It belongs to the very essence of philosophy that it cannot
take the form of a "closed system"--"closed" in the sense
that the essential reality of the world would be adequately reflected in it.
II
What, however, becomes of this "negative" element when
philosophy becomes Christian philosophy?
It is a commonly held opinion that Christian philosophy is superior to
non-Christian philosophy in that
it, the Christian philosophy, is in possession of more polished, final answers.
This, however, is not true. Christian philosophy really does have one
advantage, though, or, at any rate, it can have this advantage at times. This
notwithstanding, the superiority of Christian philosophy does not consist in
its having at its disposal conclusive, exhaustive, ultimate answers to
philosophical questions. Wherein does it consist, then? Garrigou-Lagrange, in
his beautiful book on the sense of mystery,* writes that it is precisely the
distinguishing mark of a Christian philosophy not to have at its disposal more
refined solutions but rather to possess to a higher degree than any other
philosophy a sense of mystery. Again, what does this distinction mean? To what
extent can it legitimately be regarded as evidence of Christian philosophy's
superiority-when not even Christian philosophy itself can arrive at a final
resolution of these problems?
Now the superiority that is being asserted here on behalf of Christian
philosophy consists in its being able to attain to a higher degree of truth.
Christian philosophy really does
contain a higher degree of truth in that it is more profoundly aware of the
fact that that the world and Being itself are a mystery and for that reason
inexhaustible. The more profoundly one comes to recognize positively the
structure of reality, the clearer it becomes that reality is a mystery. The
reason for this inexhaustibility of the real is that the world is creation, a
creature, that is, that it has its origin in God's incomprehensible conceptual
knowledge. Now it is peculiar to all Being to be a product of God's creative
knowledge, which is absolutely and infinitely superior to human knowledge; this
characteristic of Being comes to the fore all the more compellingly, the more
profound the insight into reality. And it may reasonably be suspected that,
when reality is experienced as an inexhaustible creature, it is known and
grasped in a much more profound sense than when it is simply translated into a
perspicacious and seemingly closed system of theses.
But does the recourse to theological truth not make a definitive solution
possible? This question may be countered with another question: whether the
purpose--so to speak, the soteriological purpose of theology is not to prevent
mortal thought from arriving at "solutions" that, in their abstract
transparency, may perhaps constitute a strong temptation, a powerful form of
seduction, but are not consonant with the mysteriously multiform structure of
reality. Such "hindrances", which are in fact a godsend, do not
exactly make Christian philosophizing easy from an intellectual standpoint; one
might, on the other hand, argue that the ensuing complications are, for their
part, a distinguishing mark of Christian philosophy. When Aquinas appeals to
theological arguments, it is not with the purpose of being able to offer more
refined solutions but rather to break through the methodological confinement of
"pure philosophy" and to open up the genuine impetus behind
philosophical questioning--above and beyond the aporia of natural thought--to the realm of the revealed
mystery.
Now, what is meant here by mystery is not something exclusively negative and
more than simply what is obscure. In fact, when understood more precisely,
mystery does not imply obscurity at all. It connotes light, but a light of such
plenitude that it remains "unquenchable" for a knowing faculty or a
linguistic capacity that is merely human. The notion of mystery should not
suggest that the effort involved in thinking runs up against a wall but rather that
this effort exhausts itself in the unforeseeable, in the space--the unlimited
breadth and depth-of creation.
Thus the promise and priority of Christian philosophy he in the fact that it is
called upon to deliver a more profound insight into both the plenitude and the
inexhaustibility of truth. The more profound the insight into its plenitude,
the more profound is the insight into its inexhaustibility. The insight into
the inadequacy of human knowledge increases in proportion with this knowledge
itself. While the sciences may properly restrict themselves to the realm of the
positively knowable, philosophy, whose nature it is to inquire into the origins
of what is real and so penetrate various strata of its createdness, is formally
concerned with the incomprehensible, with the creature as mystery.
ENDNOTES:
[1] Phaedrus 278d 3-6.
[2] Ibid. [Quoted after the translation by R. Hackforth, in Plato: The Collected Dialogues, ed. Edith Hamilton and Huntington Cairns
(Princeton, 1961), p. 524.]
[3] Symposium 204a1. [Quoted
after the translation by Michael Joyce, in Plato: The Collected
Dialogues, p. 556.]
[4] In Met. I, 3 (no. 64).
[5] Ibid.
[6] SuperJoh. I, ii (no. 213).
[7] Metaphysics 7.I.1028b1-2.
[Quoted after the translation in Jonathan Barnes, ed., The Complete
Works of Aristotle: The Revised Oxford Translation (Princeton, 1984) 2:1624.]
[8] Symb. Apost., prologue (no.
864).
[9]Ver. 4, I ad 8; see also 1, 29, 1 ad 3.
[10] Ver. 5, 2 ad 11.
[11] Pot. 7, ad 14.
[12] 1, II, 9, 2.
* [Der Sinn für das Geheünnis und das Hell-Dunkel des Geistes (Paderborn, 1937), pp. 112f.--ED.]
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The
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In
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In
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Leisure:
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On
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Only
the Lover Sings: Art and Contemplation
Josef Pieper (1904-1997) is widely considered to be one of the finest Catholic philosophers of the 20th century. He was
educated in the Greek classics and the writings of St. Thomas Aquinas. He was a professor of
philosophy at the University of Münster in Germany. His books have earned international acclaim from both Catholic and non-Catholic
scholars. Read much more about his life and work on his IgnatiusInsight.com Author
Page.
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