Post by giovanni on Apr 11, 2006 16:39:38 GMT
WORD AND SYMBOL
Bro. René Guénon
WE have already had occasion to speak of the importance of the symbolic form in the transmission of traditional doctrinal teachings. We now return to this subject to add some complementary details and to show more explicitly the different points of view from which it can be considered.
First, symbolism seems to us to be particularly well adapted to the exigencies of human nature, which is not a purely intellectual nature but requires a sensory basis from which to raise itself to higher spheres. We must take the human make-up as it is, one and multiple in its real complexity-something all too apt to be forgotten ever since Descartes attempted to establish a radical and absolute separation between soul and body. For pure intelligence, of course, no outward form or expression is needed in order to understand truth, nor even to communicate to other pure intelligences what it has understood, in the measure that this is communicable; but this is not how it is for man. Fundamentally, every expression, every formulation whatever it may be, is a symbol of the thought that it expresses outwardly, and in this sense language itself is nothing but a symbolism. There should be no opposition, therefore, between the use of words and the use of figurative symbols; rather, these two modes of expression are complementary (and can in fact be combined, since writing is ideographic in origin, and has sometimes, as in China, even retained this character). Generally, the form of language is analytic, or ‘discursive’, as is the human mind of which it is the proper instrument and the pattern of which it follows or reproduces as closely as possible; on the contrary, symbolism in the strict sense is essentially synthetic and thereby 'intuitive' as it were, which renders it more apt than language to serve as a support for intellectual intuition. This latter is higher than reason and we must be careful not to confuse it with that lower intuition to which certain contemporary philosophers appeal. Consequently, if one is not content merely to note a difference, but wishes to speak of superiority, the superiority will be an the side of synthetic symbolism (whatever some may claim), which opens possibilities of conception that are virtually unlimited, whereas language, with its more definite and fixed meanings, always sets more or less narrow limits to understanding.
Let no one say, therefore, that the symbolic form is good only for the common man; rather the contrary is true, or, better still, it is equally good for all, because it helps everyone to understand the truth it represents more or less completely and more or less profoundly, each according to the measure of his own intellectual possibilities. Thus the highest truths, not communicable or transmissible in any other way, can be communicated up to a certain point when they are, so to speak, incorporated in symbols which will no doubt conceal them for many, but which will manifest them in all their brilliance to those with eyes to see.
Does this mean that the use of symbolism is a necessity? Here we must make a distinction: as such and in an absolute way, no outward form is necessary; each is equally contingent and accidental in relation to that which it expresses or represents. Thus, according to the teachings of the Hindus, any figure whatsoever, a statue symbolizing one or another aspect of the Divinity, for example, should be considered only as a 'support', a point of departure for meditation; it is therefore simply an ‘aid' and nothing more. In this connection a Vedic text gives a comparison which perfectly clarifies the role of symbols and of outward forms in general: these forms are like the horse which enables a man to make a journey more rapidly and with far less effort than if he had to make it on foot. Na doubt, if this man had no horse he could still reach his destination, but with how much more difficulty! If he is able to make use of a horse, he would be quite wrong to refuse it on the pretext that it is more worthy not to have recourse to any aid. Do not the detractors of symbolism act precisely in this way? And although there is never an absolute impossibility of making the journey on foot, however long and arduous, there may nevertheless be a truly practical impossibility of succeeding in doing so. So it is with rites and symbols; they are not necessary in an absolute way, but they have a sort of expedient necessity, given human nature.
But it is not enough to consider symbolism from the human side, as we have done so far; to understand the full extent of its significance, it should be looked at as well from the divine side, so to speak. Once we have seen that symbolism has its basis in the very nature of beings and of things, that it is in perfect conformity with the laws of that nature, and bearing in mind that natural laws are after all only an expression and as it were an exteriorization of the divine Will, does this not authorize us to affirm that symbolism is of 'non-human' origin, as the Hindus say, or in other words, that its principle goes further back and higher than humanity?
It is not without reason that in reference to symbolism we recall the first wards of St John's Gospel: ‘In the beginning was the Word’. The Word, the Logos, is at once Thought and Word: In Itself, It is the Divine Intellect, which is the ‘place of possibilities'; in relation to us, It manifests and expresses Itself by Creation, in which certain of those possibilities are realized in actual existence, while as essences they are contained in It from all eternity. Creation is the work of the Word; it is thereby also its manifestation, its outward affirmation; and that is why the world is like a divine language to those who know how to understand it: Coeli enarrant gloriam Dei [‘The heavens declare the glory of God'], Ps. 19:2. The philosopher Berkeley was thus not wrong when he said that the world is ‘the language that the infinite Spirit speaks to finite spirits'; but he was wrong to think that language is only a collection of arbitrary signs, when in reality there is nothing arbitrary even in human language, all meaning at its origin necessarily having its foundation in some natural conformity or harmony between the sign and the thing signified. It was because Adam had received from God the knowledge of the nature of all living beings that he was able to give them their names (Gen. 11:19-20); and all ancient traditions agree in teaching that the true name of a being is one with its nature or very essence.
If the Word is Thought inwardly and Word outwardly, and if the world is the effect of the Divine Word uttered at the beginning of time, then all of nature can be taken as a symbol of a supernatural reality. Everything that exists, in whatever mode, having its principle in the Divine Intellect, translates or represents that principle in its own manner and according to its own order of existence; and thus, from one order to another, all things are linked and correspond with each other so that they join together in a universal and total harmony which is like a reflection of the Divine Unity itself. This correspondence is the true foundation of symbolism, which is why the laws of a lower domain may always be taken as symbolizing realities of a higher order, where they have their profound reason, which is both their principle and their end. Let us here call attention to the error of the modern ‘naturalistic' interpretations of ancient traditional doctrines, interpretations which purely and simply reverse the hierarchy of relationships among the different orders of reality: for example, it has never been the role of symbols and myths to represent the movement of the stars; the truth rather being that in myths one often finds figures inspired by these movements and destined to express analogically something altogether different, because the laws of that movement translate physically the metaphysical principles on which they depend. The lower may symbolize the higher, but the inverse is impossible; besides, if the symbol were not itself nearer the sensible order than what it represents, how could it fulfill the function for which it is destined? In nature the sensible can symbolize the suprasensible; the entire natural order can in its turn be a symbol of the divine order; moreover, considering man more particularly, is it not legitimate to say that he too is a symbol by the very fact that he is ‘created in the image of God' (Gen, 1:26-27)? And let us add further that nature acquires its full meaning only if we regard it as furnishing us a means of raising ourselves to the knowledge of divine truths, which is also precisely the essential role which we have ascribed to symbolism.[1]
These considerations could be developed almost indefinitely, but we prefer to leave it to each individual to do this for himself by an effort of personal reflection, far nothing could be more profitable; like the symbols which are their subject, these notes should serve only as a paint of departure for meditation. Moreover, words can express only imperfectly what is in question here; nevertheless there is still one aspect of the question, and not the least important, that we shall now try to make clear, or at least to set forth in a brief discussion.
The Divine Word is expressed in Creation, as we said, and speaking analogically and bearing in mind all due proportion, this is comparable to thought being expressed in forms (here there is no longer any need to distinguish between language and symbols properly so called) which at one and the same time conceal and manifest it. The primordial Revelation, which, like Creation, is the work of the Word, is also incorporated so to speak in the symbols which have been transmitted from age to age ever since the origins of humanity; and this process is again analogous in its own order to that of Creation itself. Moreover, can we not see in this incorporation into symbols of the 'non-human' tradition a kind of anticipated image, a 'prefiguration' of the incarnation of the Word? And to a certain extent does this not also allow us to see the mysterious relationship that exists between Creation and the Incarnation which is its crowning?
We will end with a final remark relating to the importance of the universal symbol of the Heart, and more especially of the form which it takes in the Christian tradition, that of the Sacred Heart. If in its essence symbolism conforms strictly to the 'divine plan', and if the Sacred Heart is the center of the being, bath really and symbolically, then the symbol of the Heart, in itself or in its equivalents, must occupy a truly central place in all doctrines issuing more or less directly from the primordial tradition-something we will try to show in some of the studies to follow.
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[1] It would perhaps not he without value to note that this point of view, according to which nature is considered a symbol of the supernatural, is in no way new, it was widespread in the medieval period, especially among the Franciscans, and in particular with St Bonaventure. Let it also be noted that analogy, in the Thomist sense of the word, which allows us to ascend from knowledge of creatures to knowledge of God, is nothing else but a symbolic mode of expression based on the correspondence of the natural order with the supernatural order.
Bro. René Guénon
WE have already had occasion to speak of the importance of the symbolic form in the transmission of traditional doctrinal teachings. We now return to this subject to add some complementary details and to show more explicitly the different points of view from which it can be considered.
First, symbolism seems to us to be particularly well adapted to the exigencies of human nature, which is not a purely intellectual nature but requires a sensory basis from which to raise itself to higher spheres. We must take the human make-up as it is, one and multiple in its real complexity-something all too apt to be forgotten ever since Descartes attempted to establish a radical and absolute separation between soul and body. For pure intelligence, of course, no outward form or expression is needed in order to understand truth, nor even to communicate to other pure intelligences what it has understood, in the measure that this is communicable; but this is not how it is for man. Fundamentally, every expression, every formulation whatever it may be, is a symbol of the thought that it expresses outwardly, and in this sense language itself is nothing but a symbolism. There should be no opposition, therefore, between the use of words and the use of figurative symbols; rather, these two modes of expression are complementary (and can in fact be combined, since writing is ideographic in origin, and has sometimes, as in China, even retained this character). Generally, the form of language is analytic, or ‘discursive’, as is the human mind of which it is the proper instrument and the pattern of which it follows or reproduces as closely as possible; on the contrary, symbolism in the strict sense is essentially synthetic and thereby 'intuitive' as it were, which renders it more apt than language to serve as a support for intellectual intuition. This latter is higher than reason and we must be careful not to confuse it with that lower intuition to which certain contemporary philosophers appeal. Consequently, if one is not content merely to note a difference, but wishes to speak of superiority, the superiority will be an the side of synthetic symbolism (whatever some may claim), which opens possibilities of conception that are virtually unlimited, whereas language, with its more definite and fixed meanings, always sets more or less narrow limits to understanding.
Let no one say, therefore, that the symbolic form is good only for the common man; rather the contrary is true, or, better still, it is equally good for all, because it helps everyone to understand the truth it represents more or less completely and more or less profoundly, each according to the measure of his own intellectual possibilities. Thus the highest truths, not communicable or transmissible in any other way, can be communicated up to a certain point when they are, so to speak, incorporated in symbols which will no doubt conceal them for many, but which will manifest them in all their brilliance to those with eyes to see.
Does this mean that the use of symbolism is a necessity? Here we must make a distinction: as such and in an absolute way, no outward form is necessary; each is equally contingent and accidental in relation to that which it expresses or represents. Thus, according to the teachings of the Hindus, any figure whatsoever, a statue symbolizing one or another aspect of the Divinity, for example, should be considered only as a 'support', a point of departure for meditation; it is therefore simply an ‘aid' and nothing more. In this connection a Vedic text gives a comparison which perfectly clarifies the role of symbols and of outward forms in general: these forms are like the horse which enables a man to make a journey more rapidly and with far less effort than if he had to make it on foot. Na doubt, if this man had no horse he could still reach his destination, but with how much more difficulty! If he is able to make use of a horse, he would be quite wrong to refuse it on the pretext that it is more worthy not to have recourse to any aid. Do not the detractors of symbolism act precisely in this way? And although there is never an absolute impossibility of making the journey on foot, however long and arduous, there may nevertheless be a truly practical impossibility of succeeding in doing so. So it is with rites and symbols; they are not necessary in an absolute way, but they have a sort of expedient necessity, given human nature.
But it is not enough to consider symbolism from the human side, as we have done so far; to understand the full extent of its significance, it should be looked at as well from the divine side, so to speak. Once we have seen that symbolism has its basis in the very nature of beings and of things, that it is in perfect conformity with the laws of that nature, and bearing in mind that natural laws are after all only an expression and as it were an exteriorization of the divine Will, does this not authorize us to affirm that symbolism is of 'non-human' origin, as the Hindus say, or in other words, that its principle goes further back and higher than humanity?
It is not without reason that in reference to symbolism we recall the first wards of St John's Gospel: ‘In the beginning was the Word’. The Word, the Logos, is at once Thought and Word: In Itself, It is the Divine Intellect, which is the ‘place of possibilities'; in relation to us, It manifests and expresses Itself by Creation, in which certain of those possibilities are realized in actual existence, while as essences they are contained in It from all eternity. Creation is the work of the Word; it is thereby also its manifestation, its outward affirmation; and that is why the world is like a divine language to those who know how to understand it: Coeli enarrant gloriam Dei [‘The heavens declare the glory of God'], Ps. 19:2. The philosopher Berkeley was thus not wrong when he said that the world is ‘the language that the infinite Spirit speaks to finite spirits'; but he was wrong to think that language is only a collection of arbitrary signs, when in reality there is nothing arbitrary even in human language, all meaning at its origin necessarily having its foundation in some natural conformity or harmony between the sign and the thing signified. It was because Adam had received from God the knowledge of the nature of all living beings that he was able to give them their names (Gen. 11:19-20); and all ancient traditions agree in teaching that the true name of a being is one with its nature or very essence.
If the Word is Thought inwardly and Word outwardly, and if the world is the effect of the Divine Word uttered at the beginning of time, then all of nature can be taken as a symbol of a supernatural reality. Everything that exists, in whatever mode, having its principle in the Divine Intellect, translates or represents that principle in its own manner and according to its own order of existence; and thus, from one order to another, all things are linked and correspond with each other so that they join together in a universal and total harmony which is like a reflection of the Divine Unity itself. This correspondence is the true foundation of symbolism, which is why the laws of a lower domain may always be taken as symbolizing realities of a higher order, where they have their profound reason, which is both their principle and their end. Let us here call attention to the error of the modern ‘naturalistic' interpretations of ancient traditional doctrines, interpretations which purely and simply reverse the hierarchy of relationships among the different orders of reality: for example, it has never been the role of symbols and myths to represent the movement of the stars; the truth rather being that in myths one often finds figures inspired by these movements and destined to express analogically something altogether different, because the laws of that movement translate physically the metaphysical principles on which they depend. The lower may symbolize the higher, but the inverse is impossible; besides, if the symbol were not itself nearer the sensible order than what it represents, how could it fulfill the function for which it is destined? In nature the sensible can symbolize the suprasensible; the entire natural order can in its turn be a symbol of the divine order; moreover, considering man more particularly, is it not legitimate to say that he too is a symbol by the very fact that he is ‘created in the image of God' (Gen, 1:26-27)? And let us add further that nature acquires its full meaning only if we regard it as furnishing us a means of raising ourselves to the knowledge of divine truths, which is also precisely the essential role which we have ascribed to symbolism.[1]
These considerations could be developed almost indefinitely, but we prefer to leave it to each individual to do this for himself by an effort of personal reflection, far nothing could be more profitable; like the symbols which are their subject, these notes should serve only as a paint of departure for meditation. Moreover, words can express only imperfectly what is in question here; nevertheless there is still one aspect of the question, and not the least important, that we shall now try to make clear, or at least to set forth in a brief discussion.
The Divine Word is expressed in Creation, as we said, and speaking analogically and bearing in mind all due proportion, this is comparable to thought being expressed in forms (here there is no longer any need to distinguish between language and symbols properly so called) which at one and the same time conceal and manifest it. The primordial Revelation, which, like Creation, is the work of the Word, is also incorporated so to speak in the symbols which have been transmitted from age to age ever since the origins of humanity; and this process is again analogous in its own order to that of Creation itself. Moreover, can we not see in this incorporation into symbols of the 'non-human' tradition a kind of anticipated image, a 'prefiguration' of the incarnation of the Word? And to a certain extent does this not also allow us to see the mysterious relationship that exists between Creation and the Incarnation which is its crowning?
We will end with a final remark relating to the importance of the universal symbol of the Heart, and more especially of the form which it takes in the Christian tradition, that of the Sacred Heart. If in its essence symbolism conforms strictly to the 'divine plan', and if the Sacred Heart is the center of the being, bath really and symbolically, then the symbol of the Heart, in itself or in its equivalents, must occupy a truly central place in all doctrines issuing more or less directly from the primordial tradition-something we will try to show in some of the studies to follow.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
[1] It would perhaps not he without value to note that this point of view, according to which nature is considered a symbol of the supernatural, is in no way new, it was widespread in the medieval period, especially among the Franciscans, and in particular with St Bonaventure. Let it also be noted that analogy, in the Thomist sense of the word, which allows us to ascend from knowledge of creatures to knowledge of God, is nothing else but a symbolic mode of expression based on the correspondence of the natural order with the supernatural order.