Lectures on Godmanhood
Vladimir Solovyov

Reading program by V.S. Solovyov

Lecture One. The general state of modern culture. Fragmentation and discord in life and consciousness. The absence of an unconditional beginning and center. Socialism and positivism. Their real and imaginary meaning. Religion as the only realm of the unconditional. Roman Catholicism, the truth of its aspirations and the untruth of its reality. Religious vocation of Russia. General definition of religion. The concept of true religion as a whole and its central relationship to all particular areas of human life and consciousness.

Lecture Two. Divine principle in man. The human I, its absolute value and its insignificance. Freedom and Necessity. This human nature is internal and external. The desired content, essence, or idea, of human life. A mixture of this content with the nature of the external and internal. Natural religions (mythology).

Третье. Сознание превосходства человеческого Я над данной природой и природными богами. Первое систематическое выражение этого сознания в индейской теософии и философии. Отвержение всякого данного бытия как призрачного. Мир как обман, зло и страдание. Отрицательное определение безусловного содержания как нирваны. Общее значение Буддийского нигилизма в религиозном сознании.

Lecture Four. Definition of unconditional content as the realm of ideas. Platonism. Deity as a whole idea, or ideal everything.

Lecture Five. God as unconditionally one, or Existing (pure I). The religion of the law and the prophets.

Lecture Six. The relation of God as subject or being to the divine content or essence. Psychological explanation of this relationship. The necessity of a trinity of persons in one Deity. The doctrine of Philo about the word (Logos) and the neoplatonists about the three hypostases.

Lecture Seven. God as an integral (concrete) being, or one and all. The God-man (Messiah, or Christ), 'in him dwells all the fullness of the Godhead bodily'. Christ as word and wisdom (Logos and Sophia). Divine, or heavenly (eternal) world. Its main areas.

Lecture Eight. Man as the end of the divine and the beginning of the natural world. Sexual duality. Man and humanity. Fall.

Lecture Nine. Explanation of the basic forms and elements of the natural world. Space and time, matter and motion. Three main forces of the world process.

Lecture Ten. Personal incarnation of Christ in the natural world. Redemption of the natural man through reunion with the divine man.

Lecture Eleven. The Church as a divine-human organism, or the Body of Christ. The visible and invisible church. The growth of man 'into the fullness of the age of Christ'.

Lecture Twelve. The second appearance of Christ and the resurrection of the dead (redemption or restoration of the natural world). The Kingdom of the Holy Spirit and the full revelation of God-manhood.

  ↑↑↑   Lecture One

I am going to discuss the truths of positive religion—subjects which are far away from contemporary consciousness, foreign to the interests of contemporary civilization. The interests of contemporary civilization, however, were not here yesterday and will not be present tomorrow. Is it not permissible to prefer matters which are equally important at all times?

I will not dispute those who at the present time maintain a negative attitude toward the religious principle. I shall not argue with the contemporary opponents of religion—because they are right. I say that those who at the present time refuse religion are right, because religion appears in reality not what it ought to be.

Religion, speaking generally and abstractly, is the connection of man and the world with the unconditional beginning, which is the focus of all that exists. It is evident that if we admit the reality of this unconditional beginning, it must define all the interests and the whole content of human life; consciousness must depend upon it; and to it must be related all that is essential in what man does, learns, and creates. If we admit the existence of such an unconditional centre, thenall points on the circle of life must be linked to that centre with equal radii. It is only then that unity, wholeness, and accord appear in the life and consciousness of man. It is only then that all his deeds and sufferings in life, great or small, are transmuted into intelligent, inwardly necessary events from a state of aimless and senseless phenomena. It is quite certain that such all-embracing, central importance must belong to the religious principle, once it is admitted at all; and it is equally indubitable that in reality, for the contemporary civilized humanity, even for that part of it which recognizes the religious principle, religion does not possess this all-embracing and central importance. Instead of being all in all, it hides in a very small and remote corner of our inner world, and appears as one of a multitude of the different interests which divide our attention. [↑↑ to the beginning of the chapter I ↑↑]

Contemporary religion represents a very pitiful thing: properly speaking, religion as the dominating principle, as the centre of spiritual attraction, does not exist today; instead, there is the so-called religiosity as a personal mood, a personal taste: some people have this taste, others do not, just as some people like music and others do not.

In the absence of the unconditional centring [of all interests in religion] we have as many relative, temporary centres of life and consciousness as we have different requirements and interests, tastes and inclinations, opinions and points of view.

It would be superfluous to dwell upon the mental and moral discord and the lack of principle, at present prevalent in the realm of society as well as in the minds and hearts of the individuals, for that fact is too well known to anyone at all introspective or observant.

That lack of principle, that discord, is an undoubted and obvious fact; but it is also an undoubted and obvious fact that humanity is not content with that, that it is at least seeking some uniting and integrating principle. We see, in fact, that contemporary Western civilization, having repudiated the religious principle as something that in its given form proved to be subjective and impotent, even that civilization is trying to find certain binding principles for the [human] life and consciousness outside of the religious sphere, is endeavouring to substitute something for the gods which it has cast away. Although according to the prevalent conviction all the ends and beginnings of human existence are reduced to the present reality, to the given natural existence, and our life is locked ‘in a narrow ring of sublunal impressions’; yet even in that narrow ring contemporary civilization is labouring to find a unifying and organizing principle for mankind. [↑↑ to the beginning of the chapter I ↑↑]

All modern civilization is characterized by this striving to organize humanity outside of the unconditional religious sphere, to establish itself and make itself comfortable in the realm of the temporal, finite interests.

Most logically, with the greatest consciousness and fullness, that trend is manifested in two contemporary constructions: ene of these—socialism—can be referred pre-eminently to practical interests of social life; while the other—positivism—has to do with the theoretical realm of scientific knowledge.

Neither socialism nor positivism stands in any direct relation to religion, either negatively or positively: they would simply occupy the empty space that religion has left in the life and knowledge of modern civilized humanity. It is from that point of view that they should be evaluated.

I am not going to refute socialism. It is usually refuted by those who fear its truth. But we stand upon principles for which socialism holds no menace. Thus, we can talk freely about the truth of socialism.

First of all, we can say that it is justified historically, as a necessary consequence, as the final word of the Western historical development which preceded it. [↑↑ to the beginning of the chapter I ↑↑]

The French Revolution, with which the essential character of Western philosophy became well defined as extra-religious philosophy, as an attempt to build an edifice of universal culture, to organize mankind upon purely secular, external principles—the French Revolution, I say, proclaimed as a basis of social order the rights of man instead of the former divine right [established as such a basis formerly]. The rights of man can be reduced to two main rights, those of liberty and equality, which are to be reconciled in brotherhood.¹ The great Revolution proclaimed freedom, equality, and brotherhood. It proclaimed them, but did not realize them: the three words remained empty words. Socialism is an attempt to realize these three principles actually. The Revolution established civil liberty. But with the existing social inequality, the emancipation from one dominating class is a subjugation to another. The power of monarchy and feudal lords was merely replaced with the power of capital and of the bourgeoisie. Freedom alone does not give anything to the popular majority if there is no equality. The Revolution proclaimed the latter also. But in our world based on struggle, on unlimited competition of the individual, equality of right means nothing without the equality of powers. The principle of equality, of equal rights, proved to be real only for those who at the given historical moment possessed power.

Historically, however, [state] power changes hands, and the bourgeoisie, as the property-owning class, took advantage of the principle of equality for its own benefit, because at the given historical moment it had the power. In a like manner, the ‘have-not’ class, the proletariat, naturally strives to take advantage of the same principle of equality for its own benefit as soon as the power will pass into its hands. [↑↑ to the beginning of the chapter I ↑↑]

Social order must rest upon some positive basis. That basis either has the unconditional, supernatural and superhuman, character, or it belongs to the conditional sphere of the given human nature; the social order rests either upon the will of God or upon the people’s will, the will of men. One cannot argue against this dilemma by stating that social order can be defined as the state-power of the government, for this state power itself, as government, also rests upon something: either upon the will of God or upon the popular will.

The first member of the dilemma was rejected by Western civilization; the French Revolution, having broken with traditional principles, resolutely established the democratic principle according to which social order rests upon the will of the people. The popular will, from this point of view, is nothing more than the will of the aggregate of the persons comprising the nation. Indeed, the great Revolution started with the proclamation that man, as such, has unconditional rights by virtue of his human dignity; and that, since the same general human dignity, which forms the source of all rights, belongs by nature to all persons, all persons necessarily have equal rights. Each of those individuals by himself as the legislative power and, as a result, the legislative power belongs to the majority of the people.

If the will of the popular majority represents the basis, and the sole basis, of all the rights and of every law; if the will of popular majority naturally has as its object the welfare of that majority; then that welfare becomes the supreme right and law. If one class, if a minority of the people enjoys in reality a larger material welfare than the majority, then from this point of view it is a wrong and an untruth. [↑↑ to the beginning of the chapter I ↑↑]

Such is the present situation. The Revolution which in principle asserted democracy, produced in fact only a plutocracy. The people is self-governed only de jure, while de facto the surpeme power belongs to its negligible fraction—to the wealthy bourgeoisie, the capitalists. As plutocracy by its very nature is generally accessible to everyone, it really represents the kingdom of free competition or rivalry. This freedom and the equality of rights, however, appear to the majority only as an abstract possibility. The existence of hereditary property and its concentration in a few hands, make of the bourgeoisie a separate, privileged class; while the immense ajority of the working people, deprived of any property, with all their abstract freedom and equality of rights become in reality an enslaved class of proletarians, for whom equality is but the equality of pauperism, and freedom is very often but the freedom to die of hunger. The presence of a constant proletariat, however, which is a characteristic feature of contemporary Western civilization, in this civilization [more than in any other] is deprived of any justification. For if the old order rested upon the well known absolute principles, then the contemporary plutocracy can refer in its favour only to the force of fact, to historical conditions. Those conditions change, however: ancient slavery also was based upon historical conditions, but that did not prevent it from disappearing. And if we were to speak about justice, would it not be just that wealth should belong to him who produces it, that is to say, to the worker? Naturally, capital, that is to say, the result of [certain] previous labour, is as necessary for the production of wealth as the present labour; but at no time has anyone been able to prove the necessity of their exclusive partition, that is to say, that some persons must be only capitalists while others must be only workers.

Thus, the striving of socialism toward the equalization of material welfare, its effort to transfer that material welfare from the hands of the minority into the hands of the majority of the people, is absolutely natural and lawful from the point of view of those principles which were proclaimed by the French Revolution and were laid down as the basis of all contemporary civilization. [↑↑ to the beginning of the chapter I ↑↑]

Socialism appears as a force historically justified, and one to which undoubtedly belongs the immediate future in the West. It does not, however, wish to be only an historical force, to have only a conditional justification; it wishes to be the supreme moral power, it pretends to actualize the unconditional truth in the realm of social relations. Here, however, socialism unavoidably, fatally, falls into a contradiction with itself, and its inconsistency becomes evident. It wishes to manifest the truth in society; in what does the [social] truth consist? Once more, in the equalization of the material welfare. One of two alternatives must be true: either the material welfare in itself is not the aim of socialism, and only the justice of its distribution is its aim; or the material welfare is an end in itself—then, since the striving toward the material welfare is but a natural fact of human nature, the affirmation of that aim as a principle can have no moral value. Socialism proclaimed, as soon as it appeared, the re-establishment of the rights of matter; matter does have its rights, and the striving for the realization of those rights is a very natural one; but it is only one of the natural demands of man, and certainly not the very best one—the unconditional truth certainly does not lie in it. To proclaim the re-establishment of the rights of matter as a moral principle is equivalent to proclaiming the re-establishment of the rights of egoism (in a socio-religious sect in America, the founder of the group actually did substitute for the ten commandments of Moses his own twelve, the first of which stated: ‘Love thyself’—a requirement quite lawful, but in most cases superfluous).

Justice, in the moral sense, is a certain voluntary limitation of one’s claims in favour of the rights of others; justice thus appears as a certain sacrifice, self-denial; and the more there is of this self-sacrifice, of self-denial, the better it is in the moral sense. Therefore, from the moral viewpoint it is impossible to attach any moral value to the demand on the part of the working class for an even distribution of the material welfare; for justice here—if there is any justice here—becomes coincident for that class with its own advantages; their demand, consequently, is seeking their own good, and therefore cannot have moral value. [↑↑ to the beginning of the chapter I ↑↑]

Sometimes socialism manifests a pretention of realizing the Christian morals. In this connection someone made the well-known jest that there is but one slight difference between Christianity and socialism, which is that Christianity urges one to give away what is one’s own, while socialism urges one to take what belongs to others.

Even if we admit that the demand for economic equality on the part of the non-possessing class is only the demand for getting its own, that which justly belongs to it, even then that demand cannot have any moral value in the positive sense; for to take one’s own is only a right, and in no way a merit. In its demands, even if they be admitted to be just, the working class rests evidently upon the legal, not upon the moral point of view.

But if socialism cannot have any moral significance as the self-seeking aim of the non-possessing class, it is not thereby precluded from manifesting the moral character as a demand for social truth, irrespective of who presents that demand. Indeed, socialism is right in rebelling against the existing social untruth. But where is the root of that untruth? Evidently in the fact that the social order rests upon the egoism of individuals, whence come their competition, their struggle, enmity, and all social evils.

But if the root of social untruth consists of egoism, then social truth must be based upon the opposite [of egoism], that is to say, upon the principle of self-denial or love [for others]. [↑↑ to the beginning of the chapter I ↑↑]

In order to realize that truth, every single member of society must set a limit to his exclusive self-assertion, must adopt the point of view of self-denial, must renounce his exclusive will, must sacrifice it. But in whose favour? For whom, from the moral standpoint, ought one to sacrifice one’s will? Is it in favour of other particular persons, each of whom rests upon egoism, upon self-assertion? Is it to be in favour of all of them together?

It is impossible to sacrifice one’s own will, one’s own self-assertion, in favour of all men; for all, as an aggregate of separate persons, do not represent and cannot constitute the true aim of human activity; for totality is not a datum of experience, it is only a specific group of persons which is concrete. Self-sacrifice [in favour of particular persons] would be also unjust, because it would be unfair, while denying one’s own egoism, to confirm it in others, to support someone else’s egoism.

Thus, the realization of the truth or of the moral principle is possible only in relation to that which by its very nature is truth. The moral limit of egoism of a given person is not the egoism of others, not their self-asserting will, but only that which in itself cannot be exclusive and egoistic, that which in itself, by its nature, is truth. Only when all personally realize the truth and are participants of the unconditional moral principle, only then can the will of all be the moral law for me. Consequently, love and self-sacrifice in their relation to men are possible only when they manifest the unconditional principle which stands above men, the principle in relation to which all equally represent an untruth, and all equally must recant that untruth. [↑↑ to the beginning of the chapter I ↑↑]

Otherwise, if such an unconditional principle is not acknowledged, if all other men appear only as conditional beings, representing a certain natural force, then subjection to them will result only in oppression on their part. Every power that does not represent the unconditional principle of the truth is oppression, and subjection to such a power can be only a forced one. The free subjection of each to all, then, is evidently possible only when all are themselves subjected to the unconditional moral principle, in relation to which they are egual among themselves, as all finite quantities are equal in respect to infinity.

At the same time it is quite unimportant who advances the claim to exercise that power, whether it be a single person, or the majority of the people, or even the majority of mankind; because quantity in itself does not, obviously, give any moral right, and the mass as the mass does not represent any inner pre-eminence. (If one was to speak about convenience, then undoubtedly the despotism of a single person is much more convenient than the despotism of the mass).

By nature men are not equal among themselves, because they do not possess equal powers; and as a result of the inequality of their powers, they necessarily find themselves in a state of forced subjection one to another; consequently, by nature they are not free either; finally, by nature men are strange and inimical towards each other—natural humanity by no means represents a brotherhood. If, thus, the realization of the truth is impossible on the ground of the given natural conditions, in the kingdom of nature, then it is possible only in the Kingdom of grace, that is to say, on the basis of the moral principle, as the unconditional or divine.

Thus, by its demand for the social truth, and by the impossibility of its realization on the finite natural bases, socialism logically leads to the recognition of the necessity of the unconditional principle in life, i.e., to the acknowledgment of religion. [↑↑ to the beginning of the chapter I ↑↑]

Positivism leads to the same conclusion in the realm of knowledge. The so-called enlightenment of the eighteenth century proclaimed against traditional theology the rights of the human reason. Reason, however, is only a means, an instrument, or a medium of knowledge, but not its content. Reason gives the ideal form, while the content of reason or of rational knowledge is reality; and, as the supernatural, metaphysical reality is rejected by the rationalist enlightenment, there remains only the conditional reality of the given natural phenomena. Truth [verity] is the given fact, that which occurs or happens. Such is the general principle of positivism. One cannot fail to see in it a lawful desire to realize the truth, to actualize it in the far limits of reality, to demonstrate it as a visible, palpable fact; just as in socialism one cannot deny the presence of a lawful effort to realize the moral principle, to carry it out to the extreme limits of life, into the sphere of the material economic relations. In order that the [moral] truth could be manifested by man in a lower sphere of life, it must previously exist by itself, in dependently of man; in the same manner, before the truth [as verity] may become a fact for man, it must have its own reality. Indeed, as each separate given will does not represent by itself any good or any truth, but becomes righteous solely through the normal relationship or consent with the general will—general not in the sense of mechanistic union of the wills of many or of all, but in the sense of the will which is by its nature universal, that is to say, the will of Him Who is all, the will of God—in the same way, a separately taken fact, an individual phenomenon, obviously does not represent the truth by itself; in its detachment, but is acknowledged as true only in a normal relation, in a logical connection or accord with the whole or with the reality of the whole; and that, again not in a mechanistic sense, not in the sense of the totality of all phenomena or facts. For, in the first place, such a totality cannot exist in our knowledge, because the number of facts and phenomena is inexhaustible and, consequently, cannot represent any definite sum; and secondly, even if such a totality existed, it would not have represented the truth by itself, because if each separate fact is not the truth, then obviously, the summing together of all such separate facts which are not the truth, will not obtain the truth (as a multitude of zeros will not produce a unit, and a multitude of rascals will not produce a single righteous man). Consequently, the reality of the whole, the universal, or the entire reality is the reality of Him Who is all—the reality of God. But that unconditional reality is accessible, as such, only to an immediate perception, in an internal revelation; that is to say, it represents the object of religious knowledge.

Thus, both socialism and positivism lead, when their principles are logically developed, to a demand for the religious principles in life and in knowledge. [↑↑ to the beginning of the chapter I ↑↑]

Religion is the reunion of man and the world with the unconditional and integral principle. That principle, as integral and all-embracing, excludes nothing, and therefore the true union with it, the true religion cannot exclude, or suppress, or forcibly subject to itself any element ‘whatever, any living force either in man or in his universe.

The re-union, or religion, consists in the bringing of all natural forces of human life, all particular principles and forces of humanity, into correct relation with the unconditional central principle, and through it, as well as in it, into correct, harmonious relationship among themselves.

As the unconditional principle, by its nature, cannot admit (any) exclusiveness or coercion, that union of particular aspects of life and individual forces with the integral principle, as well as among themselves, must be unconditionally free: at the same time, all these principles and forces, each inside of its own limits, the limits of its own function or its own idea, have equal rights for existence and development. As, however, they are all united into a single, common, unconditional whole, to which they are related as different but equally indispensable elements they mutually represent a complete solidarity or brotherhood.

Thus, from this point of view, the religious principle appears to be the only actual realization of liberty, equality, and fraternity. [↑↑ to the beginning of the chapter I ↑↑]

I said that according to the meaning of the religious idea, the reunion of separate beings and particular principles and forces with the unconditional beginning must be free; this means that those separate beings and those particular principles must of themselves or by their own will come to a re-union and unconditional accord, must themselves deny their own exclusiveness, their own self-assertion or egoism.

The way toward salvation, toward the realization of true equality, true freedom and brotherhood, is that of self-denial. For self-denial, however, a previous self-assertion is necessary: in order to deny one’s own exclusive will, it is necessary first to have it; in order that the particular principles and forces might freely reunite with the unconditional beginning, they must have first separated from it; they must stand on their own, must strive toward exclusive dominion and unconditional significance; for it is only actual experience, a tasted contradiction, the experienced fundamental insolvency of that self-assertion, that can lead toward a voluntary self-denial, as well as toward a conscious and free demand for a union with the unconditional beginning.

Hence can be seen the great meaning of the negative [or] the Western development, the great purpose of Western civilization. It represents the complete and logical falling away of the human, natural forces from the divine beginning, their exclusive self-assertion, the striving to found the edifice of universal culture upon themselves. Through the insolvency and fated failure of that trend comes forth self-denial, and self-denial leads towards the free reunion with the divine beginning. [↑↑ to the beginning of the chapter I ↑↑]

A fundamental change, a great crisis in the consciousness of the Western part of humanity has already begun. A clear expression of it is manifest in the development and the success of pessimistic ideas according to which the existing reality is evil, deceit, and suffering; while the source of that reality and, consequently, of that evil, deceit, and suffering lies in the self-asserting will, in the will to live—which means that salvation is in the negation of that will, in self-negation.

This pessimistic point of view, which turns toward self-negation, has been manifested so far only in theory, in a philosophic system; but one can foresee with certainty that soon—namely, when the social revolution in the West will be victorious and, after it will have won its victory, will see its own insolvency, the impossibility of establishing a harmonious and correct social order, of realizing the truth upon the foundations of a conditional transient existence—when the Western part of humanity will be convinced by facts, by historical reality, that the self-assertion of the will, no matter how it may manifest itself, is the source of evil and suffering: then pessimism, the turn toward self-denial, will pass from theory into life, and Western humanity will be ready to accept the religious principle, the positive revelation of true religion.

According to the law of the division of historical functions, however, one and the same cultural type, one and the same nation cannot realize two universal ideas, perform two historical acts; and if Western civilization had as its task, as its world function, the embodiment of the negative transition from the religious past to the religious future, then the task of laying the foundation for that religious future is reserved for another historical force. [↑↑ to the beginning of the chapter I ↑↑]

  ↑↑↑   Lecture Two

I have said that the purpose of the Western development, of the 'Western extra-religious civilization, was to serve humanity as a necessary transition from its religious past to its religious future.

We can obtain some idea of the general character of this future if we consider the sins of the religious past, the essence of its chief untruth, which necessitated its negation as well as a negative transition toward other forms.

The religious past about which I now speak is represented by Roman Catholicism. Although the insolvency of this form [of religion] by now has been understood, yet until a change from it to a new and better form, a still more positive and all-embracing one, will have taken place, until then Catholicism will retain both its conditional power and its conditional right. Until the positive creative principles of the future will become realized in the life and consciousness of civilized humanity, until then the positive past will continue to weigh over [dominate] the negative present. It can be nullified, and will be effectively and finally nullified only by a principle which will give more than it [the positive principle of the past] has given, but not by any feeble empty negation. That is why Catholicism still stands and carries on a stubborn struggle against the intellectual and social progress—the progress that will gain a fate-like unconquerable power over the old principle, but only at the time when it will reach positive deductions, when it will establish such foundations upon which it will be possible to build a new world, not only freer, but also richer in its spiritual forces. [↑↑ to the beginning of the chapter II ↑↑]

Who would venture to say that modern Europe is richer in spiritual forces than, for instance, the Catholic and knightly Europe of the Middle Ages?

There is going on at present among our Western neighbours the so-called cultural struggle against Catholicism; in that struggle it is impossible for any impartial man to take a stand on either side. If the defenders of culture justly reproach Catholicism for having employed force against the enemies of Christianity, as if following the example of its patron, St. Peter, who drew his sword in the garden of Gethsemane in order to defend Christ; if they justly reproach Catholicism for its striving to create external, earthly forms and formulas for matters spiritual and divine, as if following the same Apostle in his wish to build material tabernacles for Christ, Moses, and Elias on Mount Thabor at the time of the Transfiguration: then the defenders of Catholicism can justly reproach contemporary culture in that, having denied Christianity and the religious principles in favour of a desire for material welfare and wealth, it [the contemporary civilization] followed the worse example of another apostle, one who betrayed Christ for thirty pieces of silver.

For reasons easily understood, it is seldom that we find an impartial attitude towards Catholicism, not only on the part of the Protestant and rationalistic point of view, but also on the part of one positively religious and ecclesiastical. Justly reproaching Catholicism for its inclination to lay upon the truth of God the rotted weight of earthly armour', people do not want to see it in that same truth of God even though it has been clothed in an unbecoming garment. As a result of the historical conditions, Catholicism at all times has shown itself the arch-enemy of our [Russian] people and of our [Orthodox] Church; but it is precisely on this account that we ought to be just towards it. [↑↑ to the beginning of the chapter II ↑↑]

The following lines of the poet are quite applicable to the Roman Church:
      Heaven she did not forget;
      But she has also learned all that pertains to
      the earth —
      And the earth's dust got laid upon her.

Ordinarily we mistake this earthly dust for the very essence, for the idea of Catholicism, whereas, as a matter of fact, the general idea of Catholicism is first of all the truth that all secular powers and principles, all the powers of society and of the individual man must be subjected to the religious principle; that the Kingdom of God, represented on earth by the spiritual society—the Church—must possess [dominate] the kingdom of this world.

If Christ said: 'My kingdom is not of this world', it was precisely because it is not of this world, is higher than this world, and the world is to be subjected to Him; for it was also Christ who said: 'I have overcome the world'. [↑↑ to the beginning of the chapter II ↑↑]

Since, however, even after that victory the duality of that which is God's and of that which is Caesar's still remained, because the secular society did not merge with the spiritual, the Church did not assimilate the State: the problem about the correct relationship—such as it ought to be—between the two authorities, remained an open question. From the religious point of view only one general answer is possible to that question: if the Church is really the Kingdom of God on earth, then all the other forces and authorities must be subjected to it, must be its instruments. If the Church represents the unconditional divine beginning, then all the rest must be conditional, dependent, subservient to it. Obviously there cannot be two independent, two supreme principles iri human life—one cannot serve two masters. There is talk of a strict division or demarkation of the ecclesiastical and civil spheres. The problem, however, is precisely in that—can the civil sphere, can the matters of the world be absolutely independent, have such unconditional independence as ought to belong to the divine affairs? Can the external civil interests of man be severed from his inner spiritual interests without destroying the vitality of both? Is not such a separation of the internal and the external principles that which has been called `death and decay'? If the temporal life of man serves only as a means and transition towards the eternal life, then all the interests and acts of this life must be also only means and instruments for the eternal spiritual interests and matters, must in one way or another be conditioned by the eternal life and the Kingdom of God; and once the state and society have acknowledged themselves to be Christian, such a point of view must be obligatory for them.

The kingdom of the world must be subjected to the Kingdom of God, the Worldly forces of society and man must be subjected to the spiritual force: but what manner of subjection is meant by that, and how, by what means and methods is it to be realized? [↑↑ to the beginning of the chapter II ↑↑]

It is obvious that the character and the means of that subjection must correspond to the unconditional divine beginning in the name of which the subjection is required. If, moreover, God is acknowledged in Christianity to be love, reason, and free spirit, then, thereby, all oppression and slavery, every blind and dark influence, are excluded: the subjection of the principles of the world to the divine beginning must be voluntary and can be attained [only] through the internal power of the subjugating beginning.

'In my father's house are many mansions', said Christ.

Everything finds its place in the Kingdom of God, everything can be hound by an inner harmonious connection, nothing has to be suppressed or destroyed. The spiritual society—the Church—should subject worldly society to itself by raising it up to itself, by spiritualizing, it, by making the worldly element its instrument and means, its body; then the external unity would appear by itself, as a natural result. In Catholicism, however, the external unity appears not as the result but as the foundation, and at the same time as the aim. For [the attainment of] an external unity as a [deliberate] aim, however, there is but one means—an external force; and Catholicism adopts it and [thereby] places itself in the ranks of the other external, i.e. the worldly, forces. But asserting itself as a worldly external force, Catholicism thereby obviously justifies also the self-assertion of those other external forces which it strives to subject to itself, and thus itself renders that subjection impossible.

As the higher principle, the principle of the general, Catholicism demands subjection to itself on the part of the particular and individual, the subjection of the human personality. By becoming an external power, however, it ceases to be the higher principle and loses its right of dominion over the human personality (which does possess internal power); while its factual domination appears only as coercion and suppression, provoking a necessary and just protest on the part of the personality—in which lies the essential meaning and justification of Protestantism. [↑↑ to the beginning of the chapter II ↑↑]

Beginning with Protestantism, Western civilization represents a gradual emancipation of the human personality, of the human ego, from that historical bond, founded on tradition, which united but at the same time enslaved men during the period of the Middle Ages. The great meaning of the historical process which began with the Reformation consists in the fact that it has segregated the human personality and left it to itself in order that it might consciously and freely turn to the divine beginning, enter with it into a perfectly free and deliberate union.

Such a union would be impossible if the divine beginning were purely external to man, if it were not rooted in the human personality itself; in that case man could find himself in regard to the divine beginning only in a forced, fated subjection. The free internal union between the unconditional divine beginning and the human personality is possible only because the latter itself has an unconditional value. The human personality can unite with the divine beginning freely, from within itself; only because it is itself in a certain sense divine, or, more exactly, participant of Divinity.

The human personality—not, however, human personality in general, not the abstract idea of it, but [taken to mean] a real living person, an individual man-has unconditional, divine value. In this affirmation Christianity agrees with contemporary mundane civilization. [↑↑ to the beginning of the chapter II ↑↑]

In what does this unconditionality, this divinity of the human personality consist?

Unconditionality, like other similar concepts (such as infinity, the absolute) has two meanings, negative and positive.

The negative unconditionality, which undoubtedly belongs to human personality, consists in the ability to transcend every limited content in the capacity not to be limited by it, not to be satisfied with it but to request something greater: in the capacity 'To seek beatitudes, for which there is no name or measure', in the words of a poet.

Not satisfied with any finite conditional content, man does, indeed, declare himself to be free from any internal limitation, declaring [thus) his negative unconditionality, which constitutes the surety of an infinite development. The dissatisfaction with any finite content, with any partial limited actuality is itself a request for full reality, full content. In the possession of the whole reality, however, of the fullness of life, lies the positive unconditionality. Without it, or at least without the possibility of it, the negative unconditionality has no significance, or, rather, means only an internal insoluble contradiction. The human consciousness of today finds itself in just such a contradiction.

Western civilization has liberated human consciousness from all external limitations, acknowledged the negative unconditionality of the human personality, proclaimed the unconditional rights of man. At the same time, however, having rejected every principle unconditional in the positive sense, that is to say, in reality, and by its very nature possessed of the entire plenitude of being; having circumscribed the life and consciousness of man with a circle of the conditional and transitory: this civilization has asserted [thereby] the striving and the impossibility of its satisfaction. [↑↑ to the beginning of the chapter II ↑↑]

Contemporary man is aware that he is internally free, deems himself to he higher than any external principle independent of him, asserts himself as the centre of everything; but with all that, appears in reality to be only one infinitely small and disappearing [transitory] dot upon the circumference of the world.

Contemporary consciousness acknowledges that the human personality has divine rights, but does not give to it either the divine powers or the divine content; for contemporary man admits—in life as well as in knowledge—only a limited conditional reality, the reality of particular facts and phenomena—and from this point of view is himself but one of those particular facts.

Thus, on the one hand, man is a being with unconditional significance, with unconditional rights and demands; and [on the other hand] the same man is but a limited and transitory phenomenon, a fact among the multitude of other facts, on all sides limited by them and dependent upon them—and this is tnie not only [of] the individual man, but [of] the whole humanity. From the atheistic point of view it is not only the individual man who appears and disappears, like all other facts and phenomena of nature; according to that point of view the whole of humanity:, having appeared on this globe as a result of natural conditions, may, as a result of a change in the same natural conditions, disappear without a trace from this globe, or perish together with it. Man is everything for himself, and yet his very existence appears to be conditional and constantly problematical [precarious]. If this contradiction were purely theoretical, if it pertained to some abstract problem and object, then it would not be so fatal and tragic, then it could be disregarded,and man could flee from it into experience, into [its] live interests. When, however, the contradiction lies in the very centre of human consciousness, when it concerns the very human ego and spreads over all his vital forces, then there is no way of fleeing from it, no escape from it. We have to adopt, one of the two parts of the [following] dilemma: either man really has that unconditional value, those unconditional rights which he, in his inner subjective consciousness allows himself to have—in such case he must have also the possibility of [means, innate endowments, for] realizing that value, those rights; or else man is only a fact, only a conditional and limited phenomenon that is present today but tomorrow may not exist, and in some few score years certainly will cease to exist; in that case let him be only a fact. A fact in itself is neither true nor false, neither good nor evil—it is merely natural, merely necessary; [and if he is only a fact] then let man cease striving for the truth and the good, since there are merely conditional concepts, essentially but empty words. If man is only a fact, if he is inevitably limited by the mechanism of the external reality, then let him seek not anything greater than that natural reality, then let him 'eat, drink, and be merry'; and if he is not gay, then he can, perhaps, terminate that his factual existence with just as factual an end. [↑↑ to the beginning of the chapter II ↑↑]

Man, however, does not wish to be a mere fact, to be only a phenomenon; and this unwillingness is already a hint that actually he is not a mere fact, that he is not a phenomenon only, but something greater. For what is the meaning of a fact which refuses to be [but] a fact? or of a phenomenon which does not wish to be [only] a phenomenon?

This does not, of course, prove anything beside the fact that, in accepting the first part of the dilemma, by resolutely and logically taking the side of the mechanistic point of view, we do not escape the contradiction but only make it sharper.

[Then], however, a question presents itself: what is the basis of this mechanistic point of view according to which man is but one of nature's phenomena, an insignificant wheel inside of the world mechanism? [↑↑ to the beginning of the chapter II ↑↑]

In order to accept such a view—which delivers a mortal blow to all essential strivings of man and makes life impossible for anyone who would assume such a point of view fully and logically—in order to accept it, one must, obviously, have very firm reasons. If that point of view contradicts the human will and feelings, then it must be unconditionally necessary, at least for the intellect, [i.e.] it must possess an unconditional theoretical truth. And, in fact, it [the mechanistic point of view] does make that claim. But the claim to absolute verity on the part of the view which recognizes only the relative and the negative, seems strange. It represents another contradiction. However, let us admit even that; let us admit that the mechanistic point of view may be unconditionally true; what is the reason which would compel us to recognize it to be really such? As Leibnitz has already noted a long time ago, every doctrine is true in what it asserts, and is false in, or because of, that which it denies or excludes. Thus, in regard to the mechanistic view, or materialism, (I am using here both terms without distinction, for I have in mind only that sense [of each] of them in which they coincide) we must acknowledge that its general fundamental assertions are perfectly true. They may be reduced to the following: first, all that exists, consists of force and matter; and, second, all that occurs, occurs of necessity, or according to immutable laws.

In their generality these propositions do not exclude anything and can be acknowledged even from the spiritual point of view. In fact, everything consists of matter and force, but these are very general conceptions. We speak of physical forces, we speak of spiritual forces. Forces of either kind can be real. In agreeing with materialism further, that forces cannot exist by themselves, but necessarily belong to certain real units or atoms, which represent the subjects of these forces, we can understand with Democritus the subject of these forces the human soul—also to be such a real unit, a special atom or monad of a higher order which possesses, as all atoms do, eternity [eternal being]. [↑↑ to the beginning of the chapter II ↑↑]

If the general proposition stated above does not provide any grounds for denying the independence of spiritual forces, which are as real as physical forces; and if, in fact, the more philosophical, more logical minds among the representatives of the mechanistic point of view do not deny the reality and independence of spiritual forces (the reduction of spiritual forces to the physical ones, the assertion that the soul, or thought, is an emanation of the brain just as bile is the secretion of the liver, is true only of the poorer representatives, of the mechanistic world-view, of poor scientists and poor philosophers); if, I say, from this general point of view, there is no basis for denying the existence and independence of spiritual forces known to us, then there is not any more ground to deny from this point of view, the existence and the full reality of the infinite multitude of other forces, unknown to us, occuit for us in our present state.

In the same way, agreeing that all that occurs, occurs of necessity, we must distinguish various kinds of necessity. It is of necessity that a stone, when let down, falls to the ground; a ball striking another ball, of necessity sets it into motion; it is of necessity also that the sun by its rays generates life in the plant: the process is determined, but the means of that determining action are different. A certain mental picture in the mind of the animal calls forth this or that movement; a sublime idea, once it has found its way into man's soul, stimulates him to noble exploits; there is [an element of necessity] in all these instances, but necessity of different kinds.

The idea of necessity [taken] in a broad sense—and there is no reason for understanding it in a narrow way—the idea of necessity does not by any means exclude freedom. Freedom is but one of the species of necessity. When freedom is contrasted with necessity, this contrast usually signifies the contrast between the internal and the external necessity. [↑↑ to the beginning of the chapter II ↑↑]

For instance, it is necessary for God to love all and to manifest the eternal idea of the good in [all] creation; God cannot nourish enmity, in God there can be no hatred: love, reason, freedom, are necessary with God. We must say, [in other words] that for God freedom is necessary—which indicates that freedom cannot be a concept logically, unconditionally excluding the concept of necessity.

Everything occurs according to immutable laws; but in the different spheres of being, obviously, must obtain diverse laws (or to be more exact, different applications of one and the same law): and out of this diversity naturally follows the difference of the interrelations among particular laws, so that the laws of a lower order can appear to be subject [subordinate] to the laws of a higher order; as when we admit specific differences between universal forces, we have the right to admit also the difference in their relations, to admit the existence of the higher and more mighty forces capable of subjecting to themselves other forces. [↑↑ to the beginning of the chapter II ↑↑]

Thus the fundamental propositions of materialism, which are undoubtedly true, by their generality and indefiniteness do not exclude anything and leave all problems open. Materialism appears to be a definite point of view only in its negative, exclusive aspect, in the assertion that there are no other forces except the physical [ones], that there is no other matter except that with which experimental physics and chemistry have to deal—that there are no other laws in nature except the mechanical laws which regulate the movement (and, possibly, also the laws, just as mechanistic, of the association of ideas within human consciousness). If we encounter in experience something which does not appear to have the mechanical character (for instance, life, creation), then it is only an illusion [materialism maintains]; essentially all is a mechanism and everything must be reduced to mechanical relations. On what grounds are this negation and this demand based? Certainly not on science, for science, studying the phenomena given in experience and the mechanism of their external relationships, does not set before itself ultimate problems which concern the essence of things. Undoubtedly, all that exists must have a mechanistic aspect, which is subject to exact science; but, obviously, it would be a very gross and arbitrary assumption to acknowledge the reality [only] of this one aspect. If exact science stops where mechanism ends, does it mean that the end of exact science is also the end of everything, or at least of all knowledge? Obviously this is the sort of a logical jump that is possible only in a mind completely possessed by a preconceived idea. Science deals with matters and forces, but what matter and force really are, that question is not any of its concern; and if a scientist should have from a metaphysician that matter is in reality but sense perception, and that force is really the will, then he, as a scientist, cannot say anything either for or against such an assertion. If, however, the negative principle of materialism is not—and it is certain that it is not—the result of exact science (which, in general, is not concerned with the universal and ultimate principles) then it is only a philosophical proposition. But in the realm of philosophical perception (as is well known to anyone who is but slightly familiar with this domain) not only is there no ground for denying the existence of the spiritual forces as independent of the physical forces, but there are solid philosophical grounds for the assertion that the physical forces themselves can be reduced to the spiritual. It would be inappropriate to try to prove that proposition here, but it is obvious that in philosophy whole doctrines—one can even say, the greater number of philosophical doctrines—accept the reducibility of the physical forces to the spiritual ones; so that materialism, at best, is only one of the philosophical opinions. [↑↑ to the beginning of the chapter II ↑↑]

But if materialism as a theory is only one of the philosophical opinions, and, consequently, the acknowledgment of the unconditional correctness of that opinion is but an arbitrary belief—in what, then, does the indubitable practical strength of materialism consist? If that force has no positive basis, then it must have a negative one: it is based on the impotence of the principle opposite [to it], the spiritual principle, as the strength of any falsehood consists of the impotence of the [corresponding] truth, and the strength of an evil in the impotence of the [corresponding] good. The impotence of a truth lies, of course, not in truth itself; but within us, in our inconsistency: by not carrying out a truth to the end, we limit it—and any limitation of the truth provides an expanse for falsehood.

As truth cannot contradict itself, complete consistence [in carrying out the truth of any local pattern] will inevitably bring it to victory; just as the same consistence is fatal to falsehood, which maintains itself only by an internal contradiction [within a pattern]. [↑↑ to the beginning of the chapter II ↑↑]

The beginning of verity [in the subject under discussion] is the conviction that the human personality is not only negatively unconditional (which is a fact)—that is to say, that it does not wish and cannot be satisfied with any conditional, limited content—but that human personality is able to reach the positive unconditionality as well; that is to say, that it [the human personality] is able to possess the whole content, the fullness of being is not a mere fantasy, a subjective phantom, but a real, pregnant with forces, actuality. Thus one's faith in oneself, faith in human personality, is at the same time faith in God; for Divinity belongs to man as well as to God—with this one difference, that God possesses it in eternal reality, whereas man can only attain to it, to him it is granted; and that in the given state [of man], for him it is only a possibility, only an aspiration.

The human ego is unconditional in potentiality and infinitesimal in reality. This contradiction constitutes evil and suffering, in it lies the captivity, the inner slavery of man. Emancipation from this slavery may be had only in the attainment of that unconditional content, of that fullness of being which is asserted by the infinite striving of the human ego. `[Ye shall] know the truth, and the truth shall make you free'.

Before man can reach this unconditional content in life, lie must reach it in his consciousness; before he can know it as a reality lying outside of himself, he must become aware of it as an idea in himself. A positive conviction [of the truth] of an idea is a conviction [of die certainty] of its [possible] realization; for an unrealizable idea is a phantom and deceit; and if it is madness not to believe in God, then it is still a greater madness to believe in Him only in part. [↑↑ to the beginning of the chapter II ↑↑]

The old traditional form of religion has issued forth from the faith in God, but it has failed to carry out this faith to the end. The modern extra-religious civilization proceeds from the faith in man, but it, too, remains inconsistent—does not carry its faith to its [logical] end. Butwhen both of these faiths, the faith in God and the faith in man are carried out consistently and realized in full, they meet in the unique, complete, and integral truth of Godmanhood.

  ↑↑↑   Чтение третье

Всякое указание на безусловный характер человеческой жизни и на личность человеческую как на носительницу безусловного содержания, — всякое такое указание встречает обыкновенно возражения самого элементарного свойства, которые и устраняются столь же элементарными, простыми соображениями.

Спрашивают: какое может быть безусловное содержание у жизни, когда она есть необходимый естественный процесс, со всех сторон обусловленный, материально зависимый, совершенно относительный?

Без сомнения, жизнь есть естественный материально обусловленный процесс, подлежащий законам физической необходимости. Но что же отсюда следует? [↑↑ to the beginning of the chapter III ↑↑]

Когда человек говорит, его речь есть механический процесс, обусловленный телесным строением голосовых органов, которые своим движением приводят в колебание воздух, волнообразное же движение воздуха производит в слушающем — при посредстве других механических процессов в его слуховых органах — ощущение звука; — но следует ли из этого, чтобы человеческая речь была только механическим процессом, чтобы она не имела особенного содержания, совершенно независимого и не представляющего в самом себе ничего общего с механическим процессом говорения? И не только это содержание независимо от механического процесса, но, напротив, этот процесс зависит от содержания, определяется им, так как, когда я говорю, движения моих голосовых органов направляются так или иначе смотря по тому, какие звуки должен я употребить для выражения этой определенной идеи, этого содержания. Точно так же, когда мы видим на сцене играющих актеров, не подлежит никакому сомнению, что игра их есть механический, материально обусловленный процесс, все их жесты и мимика суть не что иное, как физические движения — известные сокращения мускулов, все их слова — звуковые вибрации, происходящие от механического движения голосовых органов, — и, однако, все это ведь не мешает изображаемой ими драме быть более чем механическим процессом, не мешает ей иметь собственное содержание, совершенно независимое как такое от механических условий тех движений, которые производятся актерами для внешнего выражения этого содержания и которые, напротив, сами определяются этим содержанием; и если само собою разумеется, что без механизма двигательных нервов и мускулов и без голосового аппарата актеры не могли бы материально изображать никакой драмы, точно так же несомненно, что все эти материальные органы, способные ко всяким движениям, не могли бы сами по себе произвести никакой игры, если бы независимо от них не было уже дано поэтическое содержание драмы и намерение представить его на сцене. [↑↑ to the beginning of the chapter III ↑↑]

Но тут мне уже слышится ходячее заявление материализма, что ведь не только наши слова и телодвижения, но и все наши мысли, следовательно, и те мысли, которые составляют данную драму, суть только механические процессы, именно движения мозговых частиц. Вот очень простой взгляд! Не слишком ли простой? Не говоря уже о том, что здесь заранее предполагается истинность материалистического принципа, который, однако, во всяком случае, есть только спорное мнение, так что ссылаться на него как на основание есть логическая ошибка, называемая petitio principii[3], — не говоря уже об этом и даже становясь на общематериалистическую точку зрения (т.е. допуская, что мысль не может существовать без мозга), легко видеть, что приведенное сейчас указание дает лишь перестановку вопроса, а никак не разрешение его в материалистическом смысле.

В самом деле, если в наших словах и жестах мы должны различать их содержание, т.е. то, что ими выражается, от их механизма, т.е. от материальных орудий и способов этого выражения, то точно такое же различие необходимо является и относительно наших мыслей, для которых вибрирующие мозговые частицы представляют такой же механизм, каким являются голосовые органы для нашей речи (которая и есть только мысль, переведенная из мозгового аппарата в голосовой). [↑↑ to the beginning of the chapter III ↑↑]

Таким образом, допуская необходимую материальную связь между мыслью и мозгом, допуская, что движения мозговых частиц суть материальная причина (causa materialis) мысли, мы нисколько не устраняем очевидного формального различия и даже несоизмеримости между внешним механизмом мозговых движений и собственным содержанием мысли, которое этим механизмом осуществляется. Возьмем простой пример. Положим, вы теперь думаете о царьградском храме Св. Софии. Вашему уму представляется образ этого храма, и если это представление и обусловлено какими-нибудь движениями мозговых частиц, то в самом представлении, однако, этих движений нет — в нем дана только воображаемая фигура софийского храма и ничего более; отсюда ясно, что материальная зависимость этого представления от неизвестных частичных движений мозга нисколько не касается формального содержания этого представления, так как образ софийского храма и движение мозговых частиц суть предметы совершенно разнородные и друг с другом несоизмеримые.

Если бы в то время, как вы имеете сказанное представление, посторонний наблюдатель получил возможность видеть все происходящее в нашем мозгу (вроде того, как это изображается в сказке Бульвера «A strаnge story»), то что бы он увидел? Он увидел бы структуру мозга, колебания мельчайших мозговых частиц, увидел бы, может быть, световые явления, происходящие от нервного электричества («красное и голубое пламя», как описывается в этой сказке), — но ведь все это было бы совершенно не похоже на тот образ, который вы себе в эту минуту представляете, причем вы можете ничего не знать о мозговых движениях и электрических токах, тогда как посторонний наблюдатель только их и видит: откуда прямо следует, что между тем и другим формального тождества быть не может. [↑↑ to the beginning of the chapter III ↑↑]

Я не имею ни возможности, ни надобности вдаваться здесь в рассмотрение вопроса об отношениях мысли к мозгу — вопроса, разрешение которого зависит главным образом от разрешения общего вопроса о сущности материи; я имел в виду только уяснить на примере ту несомненную истину, что механизм какого бы то ни было процесса и идеальное (точнее — идейное) содержание, в нем реализуемое при каких бы то ни было отношениях, при какой бы то ни было материальной связи, во всяком случае представляют нечто формально различное и несоизмеримое между собою, вследствие чего прямое заключение от свойств одного к свойствам другого, например, заключение от условности механического процесса к условности самого его содержания, — является логически невозможным.

Возвращаясь к нашему предмету, — как скоро мы допустим, что жизнь мира и человечества не есть случайность без смысла и цели (а признавать ее такою случайностью нет ни теоретического основания, ни нравственной возможности), а представляет определенный, цельный процесс, так сейчас же требуется признать содержание, осуществляемое этим процессом, — содержание, к которому все материальные условия процесса, весь его механизм относились бы как средства к цели, как способы выражения к выражаемому. Как в нашем прежнем примере, — природа актеров, физическая и духовная, все их способности и силы и происходящие из этих сил и способностей движения имеют значение только как способы внешнего выражения того поэтического содержания, которое дано в исполняемой ими драме, точно так же вся механическая сторона всемирной жизни, вся совокупность природных сил и движений может иметь значение только как материал и как орудие для внешнего осуществления всеобщего содержания, которое независимо само в себе ото всех этих материальных условий, которое, таким образом, безусловно. Такое содержание вообще называется идеей. [↑↑ to the beginning of the chapter III ↑↑]

Да, жизнь человека и мира есть природный процесс; да, эта жизнь есть смена явлений, игра естественных сил; но эта игра предполагает играющих и то, что играется, — предполагает безусловную личность и безусловное содержание, или идею, жизни.

Было бы ребячеством ставить вопрос и спорить о том, что необходимее для действительной полной жизни: идея или материальные условия ее осуществления. Очевидно, что и то и другое одинаково необходимо, как в арифметическом произведении одинаково необходимы оба производителя, как для произведения 35 одинаково необходимы и 7 и 5.

Должно заметить, что содержание, или идея, различается не только от внешней, но и от внутренней природы: не только внешние физические силы должны служить средством, орудием или материальным условием для осуществления известного содержания, но точно так же и духовные силы: воля, разум и чувство — имеют значение лишь как способы или средства осуществления определенного содержания, а не сами составляют это содержание.

В самом деле, очевидно, что — раз даны эти силы: воля, разум и чувство, — очевидно, что должен быть определенный предмет хотения, разумения и чувствования, — очевидно, что человек не может только хотеть ради хотения, мыслить ради мысли, или мыслить чистую мысль, и чувствовать ради чувства. Как механический процесс физических движений есть только материальная почва для идеального содержания, так точно и механический процесс душевных явлений, связанных между собою по психологическим законам, столь же общим и необходимым, как законы физические, может иметь значение только как способ выражения или реализации определенного содержания. [↑↑ to the beginning of the chapter III ↑↑]

Человек должен что-нибудь хотеть, что-нибудь мыслить или о чем-нибудь мыслить, что-нибудь чувствовать, и это что, которое составляет определяющее начало, цель и предмет его духовных сил и его духовной жизни, и есть именно то, что спрашивается, то, что интересно, то, что дает смысл. Вследствие способности к сознательному размышлению, к рефлексии человек подвергает суждению и оценке все фактические данные своей внутренней и внешней жизни: он не может остановиться на том, чтобы хотеть только потому, что хочется, чтобы мыслить потому, что мыслится, или чувствовать потому, что чувствуется, — он требует, чтобы предмет его воли имел собственное достоинство, для того чтобы быть желанным, или, говоря школьным языком, чтобы он был объективно-желательным или был объективным благом; точно так же он требует, чтобы предмет и содержание его мысли были объективно-истинны и предмет его чувства был объективно-прекрасен, т.е. не для него только, но для всех безусловно.

Положим, каждый человек имеет в жизни свою маленькую особенную роль, но из этого никак не следует, чтобы он мог довольствоваться только условным, относительным содержанием жизни. В исполнении драмы каждый актер также имеет свою особенную роль, но мог ли бы он исполнять хорошо и ее, если б не знал всего содержания драмы? А как от актера требуется не только, чтобы он играл, но чтобы он играл хорошо, так и от человека и человечества требуется не только, чтобы оно жило, но чтобы оно жило хорошо. Говорят: какая надобность в объективном определении воли, т.е. в определении ее безусловного предмета, — достаточно, чтобы воля была добрая. Но чем же определяется доброе качество воли, как не ее соответствием с тем, что признается объективно желательным или признается само по себе благом? (Всякому ясно, что хорошая воля, направленная на ложные цели, может производить только зло. Средневековые инквизиторы имели добрую волю защищать на земле царство Божие, но так как они имели плохие понятия об этом царстве Божием, об его объективной сущности, или идее, то они и могли только приносить зло человечеству.) [↑↑ to the beginning of the chapter III ↑↑]

То же, что о предмете воли, должно сказать о предмете познания и о предмете чувства, тем более что эти предметы неразрывно и тесно между собою связаны, или, лучше сказать, они суть различные стороны одного и того же.

Простое, для всех ясное, можно сказать, тривиальное различение добра от зла, истинного от ложного, прекрасного от безобразного, это различение уже предполагает признание объективного и безусловного начала в этих трех сферах духовной жизни. В самом деле, при этом различении человек утверждает, что и в нравственной деятельности, и в знании, и в чувстве, и в художественном творчестве, исходящем из чувства, есть нечто нормальное, и это нечто должно быть, потому что оно само в себе хорошо, истинно и прекрасно, другими словами, что оно есть безусловное благо, истина и красота.

Итак, безусловное начало требуется и умственным, и нравственным, и эстетическим интересом человека. Эти три интереса в их единстве составляют интерес религиозный, ибо как воля, разум и чувство суть силы единого духа, так и соответствующие им предметы суть лишь различные виды (идеи) единого безусловного начала, которое в своей действительности и есть собственный предмет религии.

Совершенно несомненно, что действительность безусловного начала, как существующего в себе самом независимо от нас, — действительность Бога (как и вообще независимая действительность какого бы то ни было другого существа, кроме нас самих) не может быть выведена из чистого разума, не может быть доказана чисто логически. [↑↑ to the beginning of the chapter III ↑↑]

Необходимость безусловного начала для высших интересов человека, его необходимость для воли и нравственной деятельности, для разума и истинного знания, для чувства и творчества, — эта необходимость делает только в высочайшей степени вероятным действительное существование божественного начала; полная же и безусловная уверенность в нем может быть дана только верою: и это относится, как было замечено, не к существованию только безусловного начала, но и к существованию какого бы то ни было предмета и всего внешнего мира вообще. Ибо так как мы можем знать об этом мире только по собственным своим ощущениям, по тому, что нами испытывается, так что все содержание нашего опыта и нашего знания суть наши собственные состояния и ничего более, то всякое утверждение внешнего бытия, соответствующего этим состояниям, является с логической точки зрения лишь более или менее вероятным заключением; и если, тем не менее, мы безусловно и непосредственно убеждены в существовании внешних существ (других людей, животных и т.д.), то это убеждение не имеет логического характера (так как не может быть логически доказано) и есть, следовательно, не что иное, как вера. Хотя закон причинности и наводит нас на признание внешнего бытия как причины наших ощущений и представлений, но так как самый этот закон причинности есть форма нашего же разума, то применение этого закона ко внешней реальности может иметь лишь условное значение[4] и, следовательно, не может дать безусловного непоколебимого убеждения в существовании внешней действительности: все доказательства этого существования, сводимые к закону причинности, являются, таким образом, лишь как соображения вероятности, а не как свидетельства достоверности, — таким свидетельством остается одна вера. [↑↑ to the beginning of the chapter III ↑↑]

Что вне нас и независимо от нас что-нибудь существует, — этого знать мы не можем, потому что все, что мы знаем (реально), т.е. все, что мы испытываем, существует в нас, а не вне нас (как наши ощущения и наши мысли); то же, что не в нас, а в себе самом, то тем самым находится за пределами нашего опыта и, следовательно, нашего действительного знания и может, таким образом, утверждаться лишь перехватывающим за пределы этой нашей действительности актом духа, который и называется верой.

Мы знаем, что 2x2 = 4, что огонь жжет — это суть факты нашего сознания; но существование чего-нибудь за пределами нашего сознания (существование, например, субстанциального огня, т.е. существа или существ, производящих на нас действие огня) очевидно не может быть дано в этом самом сознании, не может быть его фактом или состоянием (это было бы прямое противоречие), и, следовательно, оно может утверждаться только актом веры, «обличающей вещи невидимые».

Но если существование внешней действительности утверждается верою, то содержание этой действительности (ее сущность, essentia) дается опытом: что есть действительность — мы верим, а что такое она есть — это мы испытываем и знаем. Если бы мы не верили в существование внешней действительности, то все, что мы испытываем и знаем, имело бы лишь субъективное значение, представляло бы лишь данные нашей внутренней психической жизни. Если бы мы не верили в независимое существование солнца, то весь опытный материал, заключающийся в представлении солнца (а именно: ощущение света и тепла, образ солнечного диска, периодические его явления и т.д.), все это было бы для нас состояниями нашего субъективного сознания, психически обусловленными, — все это было бы постоянной и правильной галлюцинацией, частью непрерывного сновидения. Все, что мы из опыта знаем о солнце, как испытываемое нами, ручалось бы лишь за нашу действительность, а никак не за действительность солнца. Но раз мы верим в эту последнюю, раз мы уверены в объективном существе солнца, то все опытные данные о солнце являются как действие на нас этого объективного существа и таким образом получают объективную действительность. Разумеется, мы имеем одни и те же опытные данные о внешнем мире, верим ли мы в его действительность или нет, только в последнем случае эти данные не имеют никакого объективного значения; как одни и те же банковые билеты представляют или простую бумагу, или действительное богатство, смотря по тому, обладают ли они кредитом или нет. [↑↑ to the beginning of the chapter III ↑↑]

Данные опыта при вере в существование внешних предметов, им соответствующих, являются как сведения о действительно существующем и как такие составляют основание объективного знания. Для полноты же этого знания необходимо, чтобы эти отдельные сведения о существующем были связаны между собою, чтобы опыт был организован в цельную систему, что и достигается рациональным мышлением, дающим эмпирическому материалу научную форму.

Все сказанное относительно внешнего мира вполне применяется (на тех же основаниях) и к божественному началу. И его существование может утверждаться только актом веры. Хотя лучшие умы человечества занимались так называемыми доказательствами бытия Божия, но безуспешно; ибо все эти доказательства, основываясь по необходимости на известных предположениях, имеют характер гипотетический и, следовательно, не могут дать безусловной достоверности. Как существование внешнего мира, так и существование божественного начала для рассудка суть только вероятности или условные истины, безусловно же утверждаться могут только верою. Содержание же божественного начала, так же как и содержание внешней природы, дается опытом. Что Бог есть, мы верим, а чтó Он есть, мы испытываем и узнаем. Разумеется, факты внутреннего религиозного опыта без веры в действительность их предмета суть только фантазия и галлюцинация, но ведь такие же фантазии и галлюцинации суть и факты внешнего опыта, если не верить в собственную реальность их предметов. В обоих случаях опыт дает только психические факты, факты сознания, объективное же значение этих фактов определяется творческим актом веры. При этой вере внутренние данные религиозного опыта познаются как действия на нас божественного начала, как его откровение в нас, а само оно является, таким образом, как действительный предмет нашего сознания. [↑↑ to the beginning of the chapter III ↑↑]

Но данные религиозного опыта и при вере в их объективное значение являются сами по себе лишь как отдельные сведения о божественных предметах, а не как полное знание о них. Такое знание достигается организацией религиозного опыта в цельную логически связанную систему. Таким образом, кроме религиозной веры и религиозного опыта требуется еще религиозное мышление, результат которого есть философия религии.

Часто говорят: зачем философствовать о божественных предметах, не достаточно ли верить в них и чувствовать их? Разумеется, достаточно... при отсутствии умственного интереса в верующем и чувствующем. Это все равно что сказать: не достаточно ли верить, что существует солнце и наслаждаться его светом и теплотою, зачем еще физические и астрономические теории солнца и солнечной системы? Разумеется, они не нужны для тех, кто не имеет научного интереса. Но на каком же основании ограниченность некоторых делать законом для всех? — Если человек верит в божественные предметы и если он при этом обладает способностью и потребностью мышления, то он по необходимости должен мыслить о предметах своей веры, и, разумеется, желательно, чтобы он мыслил о них правильно и систематически, т.е. чтобы это его мышление было философией религии. Более того: так как лишь философия религии, как связная система и полный синтез религиозных истин, может дать нам адекватное (соответствующее) знание о божественном начале как безусловном или всеобъемлющем, — ибо вне такого синтеза отдельные религиозные данные являются лишь как разрозненные части неизвестного целого, — то философия религии одинаково необходима для всех мыслящих людей — как верующих, так и неверующих, ибо если первые должны знать, во что они верят, то вторые, конечно, должны знать, что они отрицают (не говоря уже о том, что самое отрицание во многих случаях зависит от незнания, причем те верующие не по разуму, которые хотят превратить религиозную истину в дело слепой веры и неопределенного чувства, очевидно действуют лишь в пользу отрицания). [↑↑ to the beginning of the chapter III ↑↑]

Совокупность религиозного опыта и религиозного мышления составляет содержание религиозного сознания. Со стороны объективной это содержание есть откровение божественного начала как действительного предмета религиозного сознания. Так как дух человеческий вообще, а следовательно, и религиозное сознание не есть что-нибудь законченное, готовое, а нечто возникающее и совершающееся (совершенствующееся), нечто находящееся в процессе, то и откровение божественного начала в этом сознании необходимо является постепенным. Как внешняя природа лишь постепенно открывается уму человека и человечества, вследствие чего мы должны говорить о развитии опыта и естественной науки, так и божественное начало постепенно открывается сознанию человеческому, и мы должны говорить о развитии религиозного опыта и религиозного мышления.

Так как божественное начало есть действительный предмет религиозного сознания, т.е. действующий на это сознание и открывающий в нем свое содержание, то религиозное развитие есть процесс положительный и объективный, это есть реальное взаимодействие Бога и человека — процесс богочеловеческий.

Ясно, что вследствие объективного и положительного характера религиозного развития ни одна из ступеней его, ни один из моментов религиозного процесса не может быть сам по себе ложью или заблуждением. «Ложная религия» есть contradictio in adjecto[5]. Религиозный прогресс не может состоять в том, чтобы чистая ложь сменялась чистою истиной, ибо в таком случае эта последняя являлась бы разом и целиком без перехода, без прогресса, — и притом возникал бы вопрос: почему это внезапное явление истины имело место в данный момент, а не во всякий другой? — и если бы на это отвечали, что истина могла явиться только после того, как была исчерпана ложь, то это значило бы, что осуществление лжи необходимо для осуществления истины, т.е. что ложь должна быть, но в таком случае это уже не ложь, так как мы разумеем под ложью (так же как под злом и безобразием) именно то, что не должно быть. [↑↑ to the beginning of the chapter III ↑↑]

Из различия в степенях религиозного откровения нисколько не следует неистинность низших степеней. Действительность физического солнца в различной мере открывается для слепого, для зрячего, для вооруженного телескопом, наконец, для ученого астронома, обладающего всеми научными средствами и способностями. Следует ли отсюда, что ощущения солнечной теплоты, составляющие весь опыт слепого относительно солнца, менее действительны и истинны, нежели опыт зрячего и знания астронома? Но если бы слепой стал утверждать, что его опыт есть единственный истинный, а опыт зрячего и знания астронома суть заблуждения, то лишь в этом утверждении, а не в том опыте, с которым оно связано, явилась бы ложь и заблуждение. Точно так же и в развитии религии ложь и заблуждение заключаются не в содержании какой бы то ни было из степеней этого развития, а в исключительном утверждении одной из них и в отрицании ради и во имя ее всех других. Иными словами, ложь и заблуждение являются в бессильном стремлении задержать и остановить религиозный процесс.

Далее, подобно тому как опыт слепого о солнце (ощущение тепла) не уничтожается опытом зрячего, а, напротив, сохраняется в нем, входит в него, но при этом восполняется новым опытом (световых ощущений), являясь таким образом частью более полного опыта, тогда как прежде (для слепого) это было всем его опытом, — точно так же и в религиозном развитии низшие ступени в своем положительном содержании не упраздняются высшими, а только теряют свое значение целого, становясь частью более полного откровения. [↑↑ to the beginning of the chapter III ↑↑]

Из сказанного ясно, что высшая степень религиозного развития, высшая форма божественного откровения должна, во 1-х, обладать наибольшей свободой ото всякой исключительности и односторонности, должна представлять величайшую общность и, во 2-х, должна обладать наибольшим богатством положительного содержания, должна представлять величайшую полноту и цельность (конкретность). Оба эти условия соединяются в понятии положительной всеобщности (универсальности), которое прямо противоположно отрицательной, формально логической всеобщности, состоящей в отсутствии всяких определенных свойств, всяких особенностей.

Религия должна быть всеобщею и единою. Но для этого недостаточно, как думают многие, отнять у действительных религий все их отличительные, особенные черты, лишить их положительной индивидуальности и свести всю религию к такому простому и безразличному данному, которое одинаково должно заключаться во всех действительных и возможных религиях, например, к признанию Бога как безусловного начала всего существующего без всяких дальнейших определений. Такое обобщение и объединение религий, такое их приведение к одному знаменателю имеет очевидно в результате minimum религиозного содержания. Но в таком случае отчего не идти дальше и не свести религию к безусловному minimum'y, т.е. к нулю?

И действительно, эта отвлеченная, путем логического отрицания достигнутая религия — называется ли она рациональной, естественной религией, чистым деизмом или как-нибудь иначе — всегда служит для последовательных умов лишь переходом к совершенному атеизму; останавливаются же на ней лишь умы поверхностные, характеры слабые и неискренние. Если бы на вопрос, что такое солнце, кто-нибудь отвечал, что солнце есть внешний предмет, и этим положением захотел бы ограничить все наше знание о солнце, кто бы взглянул серьезно на такого человека? Почему же смотрят серьезно на тех, которые хотят ограничить наше знание о божественном начале такими же общими и пустыми понятиями, каковы: верховное существо, бесконечный разум, первая причина и т.п. [↑↑ to the beginning of the chapter III ↑↑]

Без сомнения, все эти общие определения истинны, но на них так же нельзя основать религию, как нельзя основать астрономию на том, также истинном положении, что солнце есть внешний предмет.

Очевидно, что с религиозной точки зрения целью является не minimum, a maximum положительного содержания, — религиозная форма тем выше, чем она богаче, живее и конкретнее. Совершенная религия есть не та, которая во всех одинаково содержится (безразличная основа религии), а та, которая все в себе содержит и всеми обладает (полный религиозный синтез). Совершенная религия должна быть свободна ото всякой ограниченности и исключительности, но не потому, чтоб она была лишена всякой положительной особенности и индивидуальности — такая отрицательная свобода есть свобода пустоты, свобода нищего, — а потому, что она заключает в себе все особенности и, следовательно, ни к одной из них исключительно не привязана, всеми обладает и, следовательно, ото всех свободна. Истинному понятию религии одинаково противны и темный фанатизм, держащийся за одно частное откровение, за одну положительную форму и отрицающий все другие, и отвлеченный рационализм, разрешающий всю суть религии в туман неопределенных понятий и сливающий все религиозные формы в одну пустую, бессильную и бесцветную общность. Религиозная истина, выходя из одного корня, развилась в человечестве на многочисленные и многообразные ветви. Срубить все эти ветви, оставить один голый, сухой и бесплодный ствол, который ничего не стоит бросить в жертву полному атеизму, — вот задача рационалистического очищения религии. Положительный же религиозный синтез, истинная философия религии должна обнимать все содержание религиозного развития, не исключая ни одного положительного элемента, и единство религии искать в полноте, а не в безразличии.

Приступая к логическому развитию религиозной истины в ее идеальном (идейном) содержании (не касаясь пока реального способа ее откровения, так как это потребовало бы различных психологических и гносеологических исследований, которым здесь не место), мы будем следовать тому порядку, в котором эта истина исторически раскрывалась в человечестве, так как исторический и логический порядок в содержании своем, т.е. по внутренней связи (а ее мы только и имеем в виду), очевидно совпадают (если только признавать, что история есть развитие, а не бессмыслица). [↑↑ to the beginning of the chapter III ↑↑]

Первоначально мы имеем три основные элемента: это, во 1-х, природа, т.е. данная, наличная действительность, материал жизни и сознания; во 2-х, божественное начало как искомая цель и содержание, постепенно открывающееся, и, в 3-х, личность человеческая как субъект жизни и сознания, как то, что от данного переходит к искомому и, воспринимая божественное начало, воссоединяет с ним и природу, превращая ее из случайного в должное.

Уже самое понятие откровения (а религиозное развитие, как объективное, необходимо есть откровение) предполагает, что открывающееся божественное существо первоначально скрыто, т.е. не дано как такое; но оно и здесь должно, однако, существовать для человека, ибо в противном случае его последующее откровение было бы совершенно непонятно: следовательно, оно существует и действует, но не в своей собственной определенности, не само в себе, а в своем другом, т.е. в природе, что возможно и естественно, поскольку божественное начало, как безусловное и, следовательно, всеобъемлющее, обнимает и природу (но не обнимается ею, как большее покрывает меньшее, но не наоборот). Эта первая ступень религиозного развития, на которой божественное начало скрыто за миром природных явлений и прямым предметом религиозного сознания являются лишь служебные существа и силы, непосредственно действующие в природе и ближайшим образом определяющие материальную жизнь и судьбу человека, — эта первая главная ступень представляется политеизмом в широком смысле этого слова, т.е. всеми мифологическими или так называемыми религиями природы. Я называю эту ступень естественным или непосредственным откровением. На следующей, второй ступени религиозного развития божественное начало открывается в своем различии и противоположности с природой как ее отрицание, или ничто (отсутствие) природного бытия, отрицательная свобода от него. Эту ступень, отличающуюся по существу пессимистическим и аскетическим характером, я называю отрицательным откровением; чистейший тип его представляется буддизмом. Наконец, на третьей ступени божественное начало последовательно открывается в своем собственном содержании, в том, что оно есть само в себе и для себя (тогда как прежде оно открывалось только в том, что оно не есть, т.е. в своем другом, или же в простом отрицании этого другого, следовательно, все же по отношению к нему, а не само по себе): эта третья ступень, которую я называю вообще положительным откровением, сама представляет несколько ясно различаемых фазисов, которые подлежат особенному рассмотрению. Теперь же мы возвратимся к первой, природной религии. [↑↑ to the beginning of the chapter III ↑↑]

Так как здесь божественное начало познается только в существах и силах природного мира, то сама природа как такая получает божественное значение, признается чем-то безусловным, самосущим. В этом общий смысл натуралистического сознания: и здесь человек не удовлетворяется наличною действительностью, и здесь он ищет другого безусловного, но ищет и думает находить его в той же сфере природного материального бытия, а потому и подпадает под власть сил и начал, действующих в природе, впадает в рабство «немощным и скудным стихиям» природного мира. Но так как человеческая личность различает себя от природы, ставит ее себе предметом, и таким образом оказывается не природным только существом, а чем-то другим и большим природы, то, следовательно, власть природных начал над человеческою личностью не может быть безусловною, — эта власть дается им самою человеческой личностью: природа господствует над нами внешним образом лишь потому и столько, поскольку мы ей внутренне подчиняемся; подчиняемся же мы ей внутренне, передаем ей сами власть над собою только потому, что думаем в ней быть тому безусловному содержанию, которое могло бы дать полноту нашей жизни и сознанию, могло бы ответить нашему бесконечному стремлению. Как только мы, т.е. отдельный человек, а равно и все человечество, убеждаемся опытом, что природа, как внешний механизм и материал жизни, сама по себе лишена содержания и, следовательно, не может исполнить нашего требования, так необходимо природа теряет свою власть над нами, перестает быть божественною, мы внутренне освобождаемся от нее, а за полным внутренним освобождением необходимо следует и внешнее избавление. [↑↑ to the beginning of the chapter III ↑↑]

Внутреннее освобождение от природы в самосознании чистой личности впервые ясно выразилось в индийской философии. Вот что находим мы, например, в Санхъя-Карике — сочинении, которое приписывается мудрецу Капиле, основателю философской школы Санхъя и, по всей вероятности, ближайшему предшественнику буддизма.

«Истинное и совершенное знание, которым достигается освобождение ото всякого зла, состоит в решительном и полном различении вещественных начал природного мира от чувствующего и познающего начала, т.е. я.

Дух (пуруша) есть зритель, свидетель, гость — он одинок и страдателен.

Природа (пракрита) есть средство для духа, — она приготовляет его к избавлению.

Соединение духа с природою подобно соединению хромого со слепым. Слепая, но богатая действующими силами природа несет на себе бездействующего, но зрячего (сознательного) духа. Этим производится все творение.

Дух испытывает страдания жизни и смерти до тех пор, пока не отрешится от связи с природою. [↑↑ to the beginning of the chapter III ↑↑]

Подобно тому как танцовщица, показавшая себя собранной толпе зрителей, кончает пляску и уходит, так удаляется производящая природа после того, как она показала себя духу во всем своем блеске. Танцовщица уходит, потому что ее видели, а зрители уходят, потому что они насмотрелись: так же расторгается полным знанием связь духа с природою. Я видел, насмотрелся на нее, говорит дух.

Меня видели, говорит природа, — и они отвращаются друг от друга, и нет более причины для их связи и для происходящего от этой связи творения».[6]

Природа сама по себе есть только ряд безразличных процессов, — спокойное и равнодушное бытие; но когда ей присвоивается безусловное, божественное значение, когда в ней полагается цель жизни и содержание человеческой личности, тогда эта природа необходимо получает отрицательное значение для человека, является как зло, обман и страдание. [↑↑ to the beginning of the chapter III ↑↑]

В самом деле, жизнь природы вся основана на борьбе, на исключительном самоутверждении каждого существа, на внутреннем и внешнем отрицании им всех других. Закон природы есть борьба за существование, и чем выше и совершеннее организовано существо, тем большее развитие получает этот закон в своем применении, тем сложнее и глубже зло. В человеке оно достигает своей полноты. Хотя, как говорит поэт,
      Es wдchst hienieden Brod genug
      Fьt alle Menschenkinder,
      Auch Myrten und Rosen,
      Schцnheit und Lust,
      Und Zuckererbsen nicht minder,[7]

но если бы даже и было так на самом деле (а это только pium desiderium[8]), то ведь борьба за существование имеет гораздо более глубокий смысл и широкий объем, нежели борьба за хлеб, за мирты и розы. Гейне забыл борьбу за лавры и еще более страшную борьбу за власть и авторитет. Кто беспристрастно смотрел на природу человеческую, не усумнится, что если бы всех людей сделать сытыми и удовлетворить всем их низшим страстям, то они, оставаясь на природной почве, на почве естественного эгоизма, наверно истребили бы друг друга в соперничестве за умственное и нравственное преобладание. [↑↑ to the beginning of the chapter III ↑↑]

Далее, природа сама по себе, как только совокупность естественных процессов, есть постоянное движение, постоянный переход от одной формы к другой, постоянное достижение. Но если вне природы, независимо от нее, нет ничего другого, то это движение есть движение без цели, переход без конца, — достижение, которым ничего не достигается.

Процессы и состояния природного бытия могут являться целью для воображения до тех пор, пока они не осуществлены. Реализация природного влечения или инстинкта, состоящая в таком естественном процессе, является как необходимое содержание, как нечто удовлетворяющее и наполняющее, — до тех пор, пока эта реализация не совершилась, пока естественное благо не достигнуто. Достижение же его показывает, что это в действительности совсем не то, что представлялось, — что воображение как бы установляло, давало определенные формы и определенное содержание, ставило предметом и целью то, что в действительности само есть только безразличный и бессодержательный процесс, что само требует содержания и цели. Таким образом, природная жизнь, поставляемая как цель, оказывается не только злом, но и обманом, иллюзией: все содержание, которое человек связывает в своем стремлении с известными природными предметами и явлениями, все это содержание, все образы и краски принадлежат ему самому, его воображению. Не человек получает от природы что-нибудь такое, чего не имеет, что могло бы удовлетворить и наполнить его существование, — напротив, сам он придает природе то, чего она не имеет, то, что он почерпает из самого себя. Разоблаченная от того богатого наряда, который дается природе волей и воображением человека, она является только слепой, внешней, чуждой для него силой, силой зла и обмана. [↑↑ to the beginning of the chapter III ↑↑]

Подчинение этой внешней и слепой силе есть для человека коренной источник страдания; но сознание того, что природа есть зло, обман и страдание, есть тем самым сознание своего собственного превосходства, превосходства человеческой личности над этой природой.

Если я признаю природу злом, то это только потому, что во мне самом есть сила добра, по отношению к которой природа является злом; если я признаю природу обманом и призраком, то это только потому, что во мне самом есть сила истины, по сравнению с которой природа есть обман. И, наконец, чувствовать страдание от природы — не то или другое частное или случайное страдание, а общую тяжесть природного бытия — можно только потому, что есть стремление и способность к тому блаженству или к той полноте бытия, которой не может дать природа.

Если, таким образом, личность человеческая есть нечто большее, чем природа, и власть природы над нею зависит от самой этой личности, т.е. самая воля человека, обращенная на природу, связывает человека с этой последней и ведет к злу, обману и страданию, то освобождение или искупление от власти и господства природы есть освобождение от собственной природной воли, — отречение от нее. [↑↑ to the beginning of the chapter III ↑↑]

Человеческая воля во всех своих актах есть стремление к природному существованию, есть утверждение себя как природного существа, — и отречение от этой воли есть отречение от природного существования. Но так как природа первоначально дана как все, так как вне ее для человека не существует ничего в данном состоянии его сознания, то отречение от природного существования есть отречение от всякого существования. Стремление к освобождению от природы есть стремление к самоуничтожению: если природа есть все, то то, что не есть природа, — есть ничто.

Разумеется, уже признание природы за зло, обман и страдание отнимает у нее значение безусловного начала, но так как кроме нее в сознании природного человека нет никакого другого содержания, то безусловное начало, которое не есть природа, может получить только отрицательное определение; оно является как отсутствие всякого бытия, как ничто, как нирвана.

Нирвана есть центральная идея буддизма. Если в природной религии безусловное начало смешивается с природой, с тем, что оно не есть, то в буддизме это начало противопоставляется природе. Но так как положительной исходной точкой является все та же природа, то это безусловное начало, ей противопоставленное, может определяться только отрицательно, определяется тем, что оно не есть. Священные книги буддистов все проникнуты теоретическим и практическим отрицанием жизни и всего сущего, потому что только в этом отрицании сказывается для буддиста божественное начало. [↑↑ to the beginning of the chapter III ↑↑]

«Это (т.е. все существующее в природе) преходяще, это бедственно, это пусто, это лишено субстанции.

Все сложное исчезает (а все существующее сложно).

Созерцание не утверждает никакого состояния (т.е. не может ни на чем остановиться, ничего удержать)».

Но нигде буддийский принцип не выражается с такою резкостью и последовательностью, как в следующем месте из Праджна-Парамиты — книги, входящей в состав Абидарм, т.е. метафизической части буддийского священного писания:

«Учитель только тогда покрыт великою бронею, когда уму его представится такая мысль: я должен вести к совершенной Нирване бесчисленное множество существ, — я должен вести их; и, однако, ни их, ведомых, ни меня, ведущего, не существует. Они не существуют на самом деле, потому что небытие есть собственный характер всего, что признается существующим. Это как если бы искусный волшебник заставил появиться на распутье четырех больших дорог огромную толпу призрачных людей, которые дрались бы между собою, убивали друг друга и потом все исчезли, а на самом деле не было ни появившихся, ни убивавших и убитых, ни исчезнувших; так же точно будды ведут к совершенной Нирване бесчисленное множество существ, а на самом деле нет ни ведущих, ни ведомых.

Если ученик мудрости, помысливши эту истину, не смутится и не ощутит страха, и все-таки поведет существа к полной Нирване, тогда его должно признать покрытым великою бронею».[9] [↑↑ to the beginning of the chapter III ↑↑]

Замечательно, что как религиозное отношение к природе, подчинение ей жизни и сознания человека и обожествление ее привело к религиозному отрицанию природы и всякого бытия, привело к религиозному нигилизму, так и философское обожествление природы в современном сознании, философский натурализм привел к философскому отрицанию всякого бытия, к философскому нигилизму, который, как известно, был в наши дни развит в системах Шопенгауэра и Гартмана.

Уже отсюда можно видеть, что этот нигилизм, как в религиозной, так и в философской форме, не есть что-нибудь случайное, не есть продукт временных исторических условий, что он имеет более глубокое значение для человеческого сознания, — и действительно это отрицательное мировоззрение есть логически необходимая ступень в развитии религиозного сознания. [↑↑ to the beginning of the chapter III ↑↑]

Если человек начинает и как конечное природное существо должен исходить от смешения безусловного начала со скудными немощными стихиями мира, то для того, чтоб он понял и осуществил это безусловное начало в его собственной действительности, необходимо прежде, чтобы он отделил и противопоставил его этим немощным скудным стихиям мира: для того, чтобы понять, что есть безусловное начало, нужно прежде отвергнуть и волей и мыслью то, что оно не есть. Это безусловное отвержение всяких конечных ограниченных признаков есть уже отрицательное определение самого безусловного начала: для сознания, которое еще не обладает самим этим началом, такое отрицательное определение есть необходимо первый шаг к его положительному познанию. Для современного сознания, перенесшего центр тяжести с безусловного начала в условную природу, необходимо пройти через полное и решительное отвержение этой природы, чтобы опять быть способным к восприятию сверхприродной безусловной действительности.

Древний и новый буддизм можно назвать отрицательной религией, и эта отрицательная религия необходимо должна предшествовать положительной как неизбежный переход, подобно тому как в древности ищущие посвящения должны были пройти через малые мистерии, прежде чем дойти до великих.

Если божественное начало должно быть для нас все, то то, что не есть оно, должно быть признано нами за ничто. [↑↑ to the beginning of the chapter III ↑↑]

Но разумеется, — и тут, если, как сказано Христом, «мы теряем душу свою для того, чтоб снова получить ее», то точно так же мы теряем мир для того, чтоб снова получить его, потому что, как мы увидим, если вне божественного начала, в отчуждении от него рассматриваемый сам в себе, природный мир есть зло, обман и страдание, то в положительном отношении к этому безусловному началу, или рассматриваемый из него, он становится необходимым орудием или материей для полного осуществления, для окончательной реализации самого божественного начала.

  ↑ ↑ ↑   Lecture Four

The negative religion—the universally-historical expression of which is represented by Buddhism—understands the unconditional beginning as nothing. It is indeed nothing, for it is not something, it is not any definite, limited being, or a creature among other creatures—for it is above any definition, because it is free from all. The freedom from all being (the positive nothingness), however, is not the deprivation [loss] of all being (the negative nothingness). The actual, positive freedom of an entity presupposes its dominion, a positive force or power, over that from which the entity is free. Thus, for instance, one cannot say about a child that he is free from passions or that he is above passions—he simply does not have them (and in this respect he is below them); only he can be considered to be free from passions who has them but holds them in his control, who dominates, but is not dominated by, them.

Thus the divine beginning, free from all being, from everything, is at the same time and thereby the positive force and power of all being, possesses all, all is its own content; and in that sense the divine beginning itself is 'all'. This is indicated in that the most general and necessary name which we have to give to the divine beginning—the name of the absolute; for the word absolutum means, first, that which is absolved, i.e., [divested] of all particular definitions; and, second, that which is fulfilled, accomplished, completed i.e. that which possesses all and contains all in itself. At the same time it is evident that both of these meanings are closely interconnected, so that only in possessing all can one abnegate all. [↑↑ to the beginning of the chapter IV ↑↑]

What is, then, that all which forms the positive content of the divine beginning? It cannot be merely the aggregate of natural phenomena, for each of the phenomena, and consequently all of them together, represent only a constant transition, a process, which bears only an appearance of being but [is] not the true, essential, and abiding being. If, thus, our natural universe, because of its purely relative character, cannot be the true content of the divine beginning; then that content, that is to say, the positive all (the all-integrity or the fullness of being) can be found solely in the supernatural domain which, in contradistinction with the world of material phenomena, is determined as the realm of ideal essences, as the kingdom of ideas.

The ideal cosmos forms the basic content—and the fundamental truth—of the Greek philosophy in its central system, the system of Platonism. In order to comprehend the truth of this system, we must review (although with the greatest haste) the whole mental path which separates it from the contemporary scientific world-view. Although it seems that between them lies an impassible abyss, yet, as I shall try to prove presently, an uninterrupted thread of logical thought must lead every consistent mind from the sensual experience of phenomena to the contemplative belief in ideas. [↑↑ to the beginning of the chapter IV ↑↑]

First of all, I must once again return to certain elemental truths. We are given natural phenomena, which form what we call the external, material world. That world, as such (that is to say, as external and material) is indubitably only an illusion and not a reality. Let us take some material object, this table, for instance. Of what is this object, really, composed? We have, first, a definite spacial image, a figure or a form, then a certain density or hardness; all of these represent but our own sensations. The colour of that table is only our sensation of sight, i.e., a certain change in our sensation of sight; the figure of the table being formed by a combination of our visual muscular sensations; finally, its firmness, or its corporateness, is the sensation of our sense of touch. We see, we touch that object—yet all that [what we experience] is only our own sensations, only our own states, which take place within ourselves. If we did not possess these external definite senses, then this material object, this table, could not exist for us such as it is, for al] its fundamental properties depend directly upon our senses. In fact, it is quite evident that if the sense of sight did not exist, then there would be no colour, for colour is only a sensation of sight; if there was no sense of touch, if there were no creatures that are able to experience touch sensations, then there would not be that which we call hardness, for the phenomenon of hardness is but a sensation of touch. Thus this external object, this table, in such a form as it actually presents itself; that is to say, as a tangible, material object—is not a self-subsistent reality, independent of us and of our senses, but is only a combination of our sensual states, of our sensations.

It is generally thought that if all creatures capable of sensations disappeared from the world, the world would remain as it is together with all the variety of its forms, with all its colours and sounds. It is, however, an obvious error; for what is sound without hearing? or light and colour without sight? [↑↑ to the beginning of the chapter IV ↑↑]

Taking the point of view of the [now] dominant philosophies [based on] natural science, we must admit that if there were no creatures endowed with senses, the world would have changed its character radically. In fact, from this point of view, sound, for instance, all by itself, that is to say independently of the sense of hearing and of the organs of hearing—is only an undulating vibration of the air, but evidently the vibration of the air by itself is not what we call sound; in order that this vibration of the air might become a sound, an ear is necessary upon which that vibration might act and stimulate certain reactions in the nervous apparatus of hearing, appearing in the being to whom that apparatus belongs as the sensation of sound.

In the same manner, for the scientific point of view, light is but a vibratory movement of the waves of ether. The movement of the ether-waves by itself, however, is not what we call light; it [the movement] is but a mechanical movement and nothing more. In order to become light and colour it is necessary that it should act upon the organ of sight and, producing in it corresponding changes, in some way stimulate in the creature [endowed with sensorium] these sensations which are, properly, what we call light. [↑↑ to the beginning of the chapter IV ↑↑]

If I became blind, light would not, of course, cease to exist—but only because there would [still] be other creatures capable of seeing, having light sensations. If, however, there were no seeing creatures, then, obviously, there would be no light as light: there would be only the mechanical movements of ether, corresponding to light.

Thus the world we know in every case is only phenomena in us and for us, our representation [perception]; and if we place it wholly outside of ourselves, as something unconditionally self-determined and independent of ourselves, then it is [only because we misapprehend] a natural illusion.

The world is [human] representation. Since, however, this represensation is not arbitrary, because we cannot at will create or destroy material objects—because the material universe with all its phenomena is, so to speak, imposed upon us; and although its sensible qualities are defined by our senses, and in this regard depend upon us, yet its very reality, its existence, does not depend upon us, but is given to us; therefore, although in its sensory forms the world is our representation, it must, nevertheless, have a certain cause or essence independent of us. [↑↑ to the beginning of the chapter IV ↑↑]

If what we see is only our representation, it does not follow that this representation did not have causes independent of us, which we do not see. The involuntary character of this representation makes the admission of these causes necessary. Thus, at the base of dependent phenomena is assumed an independent essence or an essential cause which gives us a certain relative reality. As, however, the relative reality of these objects and phenomena, which are multiple and multiform, presupposes the interrelation and interaction of many causes, therefore that essence, which generates them must also constitute a certain plurality, for otherwise it could not contain sufficient basis or cause of the given phenomena.

Therefore the general foundation [of the phenomenal world] appears necessarily as the aggregate of a great many elementary substances or causes of an eternal and immutable nature, which constitute the ultimate bases of all reality, out of which are composed all objects, all phenomena, all real being, and into which this real being can be decomposed. These elements, being eternal and immutable, cannot themselves be decomposed or divided. It is these fundamental substances which we call atoms, that is to say, the indivisible.

Thus, in reality, independently exist only the indivisible elementary essences which, through different combinations and multiform interactions, comprise what we call the real world. This real world is actually real only in its elemental foundations or causes—in the atoms—but in its concrete aspect it is only a phenomenon, only a representation that is conditioned by multiform interactions, only an appearance. [↑↑ to the beginning of the chapter IV ↑↑]

But what are we to think about these fundamental essences, about the atoms themselves? Vulgar materialism understands by atoms some infinitely small particles of matter, but that is obviously a gross error. Under the term matter we understand something that extends in space, something hard and solid, that is to say, impermeable—in a word, something corporal; but, as we have seen, all bodily matter is reduced to our sensations and is only our representation. Extension is the combination of visual and muscular sensations, hardness is a sensation of touch; consequently, matter, as something extended and hard, impervious, is only a representation; and therefore atoms, as elementary essences, as the foundations of [external] reality i.e., as that which is not representation, cannot possibly be particles of matter. When I touch any material object, then its hardness and impermeability are merely my sensations and a combination of these sensations which form [my representation of] a whole object, [i.e., are] only my sense-perception, are within me.

But the cause which produces this [sense-perception] in me, i.e., that because of which I get the sensation of impermeability—that which I encounter—evidently is not in me, is independent of me, is a self-extant cause of my sensations.

In the sensation of impermeability I encounter a certain resistance, which is what produces the sensation; consequently, I must suppose a certain opposing force, and it is only to that force that the reality independent of myself belongs. Consequently the atoms, as the fundamental or ultimate elements of this reality, are nothing other than elementary forces. [↑↑ to the beginning of the chapter IV ↑↑]

Thus, the atoms are acting or active forces, and all that exists is the result of their interaction.

This interaction, however, not only presupposes the faculty of acting, but also the faculty of receiving the actions of others. Each force acts upon another and at the same time experiences the action of this other or of these other [forces]. In order to act outside of itself upon others, the force must have a centrifugal or extravertive striving. In order to receive the action of another force, the given force must give it room, so to speak, must attract that force, or present it before itself. Thus every fundamental force is necessarily expressed in striving and in representation.

In striving it receives actuality for the others, or acts upon the others; while in representation, other [forces] have actuality for it, it is acted upon by the others.

Thus, the foundations of reality are forces—the striving [extraverted, active] forces, and those receiving [action, i.e., acted upon], or the representing ones. [↑↑ to the beginning of the chapter IV ↑↑]

By experiencing the action of another force upon itself, by giving it place, the first force is limited by the other one, is distinguished from it and at the same time turns, so to speak, unto itself, burrows into its own reality, becomes defined [within itself and therefore] for itself. Thus, for example, when we touch or strike a material object, we first sense this object, this 'other one', this external force; it becomes real for us; us; but in this sensation of ours we also become aware of our own selves, because it is our sensation; by this sensation, we witness, as it were our own reality, as [the reality] of those who feel; we come to be something [objective] for ourselves. Thus, we have forces which, first, act outside of themselves [and thus beget external] reality for others; and, second, those which receive the action of that [which in relation to them is their] 'other one', for which that 'other one' possesses [external] reality, or is represented by them; and, finally, [forces] which [themselves] beget reality for themselves—that [reflection of forces upon themselves, or their awareness of themselves] which we call consciousness in the broad meaning of that word. Such forces are more than forces—they are beings.

Thus we must assume that atoms, that is to say, the fundamental elements of every reality [besides being mechanical forces] are elementary living beings; or what, since the time of Leibnitz, has received the name of monads.

Thus the content of all consists of living and acting beings, eternal and abiding, which by their interaction form all reality, all that exists. [↑↑ to the beginning of the chapter IV ↑↑]

The interaction of the basic beings or monads presupposes a qualitative distinction among them; if the action of one monad upon another is defined by its striving towards that other one, and of that striving properly speaking consists, then the basis [origin] of that striving will be found in the fact that other basic beings, other monads, represent something qualitatively different from the first one, something that would give to the first being a new content which it itself does not possess, which would complete its being; for otherwise, if these two fundamental beings were fully identical, if the second [monad] was exactly alike with the first one, then there would not be any sufficient ground, any reason, for the first [monad] to strive towards the second one. (In order to elucidate this problem one can point to the law of polarity, — which obtains in the physical world: only the opposite or diversely named poles attract each other, because they complete one another, are mutually necessary.)

The interaction of basic beings requires that each one of them have its own specific quality which makes it different from all others, because of which it becomes the object of the striving and action of all the others, and it itself is able, in turn, to act upon the others in a certain manner.

The beings not merely act upon each other, but act in a certain specific way, and in no other.

If all the external qualitative differences known to us belong to the realm of phenomena, if they are conditional, unstable and transitory, then the qualitative differences among the fundamental beings, which are eternal and immutable, must also be eternal and immutable, that is to say, unconditional. [↑↑ to the beginning of the chapter IV ↑↑]

This unconditional quality of a fundamental being, which allows it to be the content of all the others, and in consequence of which all the others can be the content of it—this unconditional quality which determines all the acts of a being as well as all its [receptory] reactions (because the being not only acts according to what it is, but also receives the actions of the others according to what it is [itself])—this unconditional quality, I say, represents the being's proper inner, immutable character which makes it what it is, or constitutes its idea.

Thus the fundamental beings, which comprise the content of the unconditional beginning, in the first place, are not only indivisible units or atoms; secondly, they are not only living, acting forces, or monads: they are, [in addition] beings defined by the unconditional quality of being, or ideas. [↑↑ to the beginning of the chapter IV ↑↑]

In order that all could be the content of the unconditional beginning, it is necessary that this all should itself represent a definite content i.e., it is necessary that every unit which composes this whole, that each member of that whole, be something specific, that it could not be replaced or confused with something else; it is necessary that it be an eternal, abiding idea.

The doctrine of ideas, as of the eternal and immutable essences which lie at the basis of all the transitory existences and phenomena, and constitute the real content of the unconditional beginning, or the eternal, immutable all—that doctrine, first developed, as is known, by the Greek philosophy in the person of Plato, constituted in the revelation of the divine beginning the next step after Buddhism. Buddhism says: 'The given universe, the natural being, all that exists, is not the true being, is a phantom; if so, if what is, is not the truth then the truth must be that which is not, or nothing.' Platonic idealism states the opposite: 'If that which, for us, exists immediately, [namely,] the natural being or the world of phenomena, is not the truth, is not the really-extant'—and at this point Platonism agrees with Buddhism—`then this being this reality can be acknowledged as untrue only because there is another reality, which does possess character and truth and essentiality.' The given reality is untrue or not genuine only in relation to another, the true and genuine, reality; or, in other words, the natural reality has its truth, its real essence in another reality, and this 'other' reality is the idea; and at the same time, since the true, genuine reality cannot be poorer, cannot include in itself less than the phantom reality contains, then we must necessarily assume that to everything that is found in the latter (i.e., in the visible or phantom reality), corresponds something in the true and genuine reality—in other words, [we must assume] that every being of this natural world has its own idea or its true and genuine essence. Thus this true reality, this genuine essence is defined not simply as an idea, but as the ideal all or as the world of ideas, the kingdom of ideas.

A clear understanding of what the idea is may be gained in a reference to the inner character of human personality. [↑↑ to the beginning of the chapter IV ↑↑]

Every human personality is first of all a natural phenomenon, subjected to external conditions and determined by them in its acts and perceptions. In so far as the manifestations of this personality are determined by the outside conditions, in so far as they are subjected to the laws of external or mechanical causality, in that measure the properties of the acts or manifestations of this personality—properties which form what is called the empirical character of this personality—are but natural conditional properties.

Together with this, however, every human personality has in itself something absolutely unique which defies all external determination, which does not fit any formula, and yet imposes a certain individual stamp upon all the acts and perceptions of this personality. This peculiarity is not only something undefinable, but also something unchanging: it is completely independent of the external direction of the will and action of this person; it remains unchanging under all circumstances and in all the conditions in which this personality may be placed. Under all these circumstances and conditions the personality will manifest that indefinable and elusive peculiarity, that its individual character, will put its imprint upon every one of its actions and perceptions.

Thus the internal individual character of the personality appears to be something unconditional, and it is that [unconditional element] what comprises its own essence, the particular personal content or the specific personal idea of the given being, the idea by which is determined the essential value of the being in everything, the part which it plays and for ever will play in the universal drama. [↑↑ to the beginning of the chapter IV ↑↑]

The qualitative distinctions of the fundamental beings are necessarily expressed in the diversity of their relations: if all the fundamental beings were unconditionally identical, then they would be related one to the other in unconditionally similar ways; but if they are not identical, if every one among them represents its own specific character or idea, every one of them must be related to all others in its own particular manner, must occupy in all [in the pattern of totality] its own definite place: and it is that relation of each being to all that constitutes its objective idea—which represents the full manifestation or realization of its inner peculiarity, or its subjective idea.

But how, in general, is the relation between fundamental beings possible when they are qualitatively different and separate? Obviously, it is possible only when they come together or are equated in something that is common to them, although they differ from each other immediately; and in case of the essential relation between ideas, it is necessary that that common [element] itself should be essential, i.e., that it be a specific idea or a fundamental being. Thus the essential relation between ideas is similar to the formally-logical relation among different concepts—here, as well as there, we have a relation of a greater or lesser commonness and breadth. If the ideas of several beings relate to the idea of a single being as the concepts denoting species are related to genus-concept, then this latter being covers all those others, contains them in itself: different among themselves, they are equal in relation to it [to the genus-being] and it appears, as their common centre, equally fulfilling them with its [own] idea. Thus appears [comes into being] the complex organism of beings; several such organisms find the centre in another being with a still more general or broad idea and then become parts or organs of a new organism of a higher order, which responds to, or covers with itself, all the lower organisms related to it. Thus, gradually ascending, we reach the widest and most general idea which must internally cover with itself all the others. This is the idea of the unconditional goodness, or more exactly, the idea of the unconditional grace [benevolence], or Love. In reality, every idea is a good —[good] for the bearer of it—his good and his love. Every being is what it loves. If, however, every specific idea is a certain specific good and specific love, then the general universal, or absolute idea is the unconditional good and the unconditional love, i.e., such love which equally contains in itself all [i.e., the ideas of all entities], which corresponds to all. The unconditional love is precisely that ideal whole, that universal integrity, which comprises the proper content of the divine beginning. For the plenitude of ideas may not be conceived as their mechanical aggregate, but is [instead] their inner unity, which is love. [↑↑ to the beginning of the chapter IV ↑↑]

  ↑↑↑   Lecture Five

The doctrine of ideas, when it is correctly developed, indicates for us the objective essence of the divine beginning, or what constitutes the proper metaphysical realm of its being, which is independent of the natural world of phenomena, although connected with it. We have learned what is to be thought of those fundamental bases and ultimate elements of all existence, which on the one hand, are related to the visible world of phenomena as its substantial principles or generating causes, and on the other hand form the proper content or the inner fullness of the divine beginning. In order to reach it [this understanding] we have gone through three mental stages, and the answer we have got represents, in school language, three momenti: (1) In order to be the bases of reality, the essences in question must be indivisible units not subject to differentiation, [or] ultimate centres of being—the atoms.¹ (2) In order to produce actual multiformity of being these central units must act and receive action, i.e., must be in a state of interaction among themselves; and, consequently, they must be acting or living forces—the monads. (3) Finally, in order to constitute the essential whole, or to be the content of the unconditional beginning, these individual forces must themselves comprise a certain content, i.e. be definite ideas.

Different metaphysical systems dwelt primarily upon one of these three moment, losing sight of the other two; although logically they do not exclude one another but, on the contrary, require one another, so that the full truth of the answer to the fundamental metaphysical question is found in the synthesis of these three concepts, the atom, the living force (the monad), and the idea—in the synthesis which can be expressed by the simple word of general use, a being. [↑↑ to the beginning of the chapter V ↑↑]

Indeed, the concept of a being internally unites in itself these three concepts. For a being, in order to be a being, must, first, form a separate unit, a specific centre of being; because otherwise it would not be an independent being but would be merely an attribute of another being. In the second place, a being must possess an active force, must be capable of action and change; for a dead or inert mass is not a being. And, finally, a being must have a qualitatively definite content, or express a certain idea; for otherwise it would not be an actual, i.e. this specific being, and not some other one. In other words, a being, as such, is necessarily at one and the same time an atom, a living force (a monad), and an idea.

It is necessary to acknowledge the plurality of these basic beings, and to think of the unconditional all as their aggregate; for action is impossible without such plurality—because every action is a relation of one being to another—and consequently, actuality as a system of actions, and reality as their result, are impossible. And if in such a case the world becomes a pure phantom, the being of God is also deprived thereby of its necessary condition: for God, deprived of an object of action, Himself loses all actuality, becomes a pure possibility or a pure nothing. If, however a denial of the plurality of being leads at once to the denial of both God and the world, the opposite admission, [the postulation] of unconditional plurality, i.e., of many unconditionally self-extant beings, leads exactly to the same result. Indeed, as unconditionally independent, i.e., as possessing everything of themselves, these beings would be deprived of every necessary internal connection among themselves, would have no basis for any interaction; and, consequently, all actuality and reality, which proceeds from such interaction, would be mpossible. On the other hand, with the full self-subsistence of many beings, they would be also independent of the single unconditional principle, would be perfectly foreign to it; it would not have in them [any portion of] its own inner content; and would itself remain a dead unity, an indifferent, empty existence; limited from outside by independent beings, it could not be unconditional or absolute—more than that: having the whole totality of being outside of itself, it would itself be reduced, thereby, to pure nought. [↑↑ to the beginning of the chapter V ↑↑]

If, thus, the admission of unconditional singleness as well as of unconditional plurality of beings lead to negative results, and renders any intelligent view of the universe impossible; then the truth lies, obviously, in the unification of the two, or in the admission of a relative oneness and a relative plurality. To assert the impossibility of such a unification is an evident petitio principii: it is indeed impossible, if we acknowledge in advance the opposite terms to be true in their exclusiveness, i.e., [true] separately one from the other. If it be asserted that the one can exist as such only by itself, excluding all plurality: then, of course, there is no transition from that one to plurality at all. In the same way, if it be asserted that absolute plurality is by itself without any internal oneness, then it is evident that there is no transition from such plurality to the one. But the acceptance of exclusive oneness or of exclusive plurality as the starting point is, precisely, that arbitrary thought which cannot be justified by reason; the very impossibility of reaching any satisfactory result, if that point of view be taken as the premise, indicates its insolvency. Contrariwise: since logically we can start only with the unconditional, and the unconditional, by the very conception of it, cannot be anything exclusive, i.e. limited, and therefore cannot be only single or only plural; we must straightly acknowledge, therefore, in agreement with logic as well as with the external and internal experience, that there is not and cannot be either pure oneness or pure plurality; that all that is, is necessarily both one and many. From this point of view, the many (beings) do not have existence in their separateness or in unconditional particularization, but each of them can exist in itself and for itself only in so far as it is at the same time in a state of interaction and interpenetration with the others, as inseparable elements of a single whole; for the particular quality or character of each being n its objectivity consists precisely in the definite relation of that being to the whole, and, consequently, in its definite interaction with all. But this, obviously, is possible only in case those beings have among themselves an essential commonness; i.e., if they are rooted in a single general substance, which forms the essential medium of their interaction, embracing all of them in itself but not contained [entirely, exclusively] in any one of them separately.

Thus, the plurality of beings is not the plurality of unconditionally-separate units, but is merely the plurality of the elements of a single system, conditioned by the essential unity of their common beginning (as the life of natural organisms known to us is also conditioned by the unity of the organic soul, by which they are determined). Such an organic character of the basic beings depends, on the other hand, on the fact that those beings are ideas. Indeed, if the basic beings were only real units or only acting forces and, consequently, were related one to another purely externally, if each existed only in itself and outside of others—in such case, their unity also would be only external, mechanical, and then the very possibility of such a unity, the possibility of any kind of interaction, would be questionable. Since, however, as we had to admit already, the fundamental beings are not only units possessing force, or units of forces, but are also definite ideas; and, consequently, their connection consists not only of their external action on each other as real forces, but is first of all determined by their ideal content which gives to each one a specific importance and a necessary place in the whole: it follows directly that there is an internal connection among all beings, by virtue of which their system appears as the organism of ideas. [↑↑ to the beginning of the chapter V ↑↑]

As it was already noted in the last lecture, the general character of the ideal cosmos represents a certain correspondence with the interrelation of our intellectual conceptions—namely, the fact that particular beings or ideas are embraced by others, the more general ones, as the concepts of species are embraced by the concept of [their] genus.

On the other hand, however, there is a fundamental difference and even a contrast between the interrelationship in the domain of concepts and that of the ideas of beings. As it is known from formal logic, the volume [quantitative extent] of a concept is in inverse relation to the [qualitative] content; i.e., the broader any concept is, the larger is its scope, i.e., the larger the number of other particular concepts which come under it—the fewer are its symbols, the poorer is its [qualitative] content, the more general, more indefinite, it is. (Thus, for example, `man' as a general concept embracing all human keings, and consequently of a scope broader than for instance, the concept of a 'monk', is much poorer than the latter in [its. qualitative] content: for in the concept of 'man' in general, are included only such characteristics as are common to all men without exception, while in the idea of a 'monk' we can find, in addition, many other characteristics which constitute the specific character of monastic vocation; so that this latter concept, narrower than the concept of 'man', is at the same time richer by its inner content, i.e., richer in positive characteristics). [↑↑ to the beginning of the chapter V ↑↑]

Such relation, obviously, depends upon the [manner of] origin of the general rational concepts. Because they result from a purely negative abstraction, they can have no independence, no content of their own, but are only the general framework for that concrete data from which they are abstracted. And abstraction consists in the removal or negation of those specific characteristics which define the particular concepts, entering the scope of the general concept. (Thus, in the example given above, the abstract concept of 'man' is formed by the removal or the negation of all those particular distinguishing characteristics which could be found in the concepts of the different sorts of men.)

With ideas, as positive determinants of particular beings, it is quite the reverse: the relation of the volume [scope] to the content is necessarily direct; that is to say, the broader the scope of the idea, the richer it is in content. If a general generic concept, as a simple abstraction, as a passive consequence of rational activity, can be defined by its constituent concepts only negatively, by the exclusion of their positive characteristics from its content-to-be; then the idea, as an independent essence, must, on the contrary, find itself in a state of active inter-relation with those particular ideas which are covered by it, which comprise its volume; i.e., it must be defined by them positively. Indeed, since general idea is something in itself, or expresses an independent being; therefore, standing in certain relation to other particular ideas or beings, receiving their action and also reacting upon them in accordance with its own character, it (obviously) actualizes, thereby, upon them that its own character, develops its own content on different sides and in different directions, realizes itself in different relations; and, consequently, the larger the number of particular ideas with which it is in a direct relation, or the greater number of ideas in its volume—the greater the diversity and definiteness with which it realizes itself, the fuller, the richer is its own content. Thus, because of the positive character which necessarily belongs to the interaction of ideal beings, the particular ideas which comprise the volume of a general idea, comprise also its content; or, to be more precise, the content of this broader idea is directly and positively determined, in its realization or objectivity, by those narrower ideas which enter into its scope—and, consequently, the broader the scope [of the idea of a being], the richer its content. [↑↑ to the beginning of the chapter V ↑↑]

Therefore, the well known dictum of Spinoza, `omfds determinatio en negatio'² (every definition is a negation), in no wise may be applied to an actual being, which possesses a positive content or idea; for in that case the determination, i.e., the action of others upon this being, encounters in it [in this being] a certain positive force of its own, which is called forth by this action to manifest or to actualize its content. As a living force, a being cannot react only passively to the action of others: it acts upon them itself; and, in being fulfilled with them, it fulfils them. Consequently, the determination of others is for it [for the being in question] at the same time its [own] self-determination; the result depends equally on itself and on the external forces acting upon it; and the whole relation has a positive character. Thus, for example, every human person, having his own character and representing a certain specific idea, by entering into interaction with others, in being determined by others and determining them himself, discloses thereby his own character and realizes his own idea, without which his character and idea would be [remain] a pure possibility: they become an actuality of the person and in that [actuality] the person is necessarily also determined by the others. Consequently, in this case the determination is not a negation, but a realization; it would be a negation only in case the person had no characteristics, represented no specific particularity, {i.e.] if he the person were an empty space; but that, obviously, is an impossibility.

From all that has been said it is clear that by [the term] ideas we mean perfectly definite, special forms of metaphysical beings, which belongs to them [to the metaphysical beings] as such, and in no way are the result of our own abstracting reasoning. According to this view, ideas possess an objective existence in relation to our cognition and at the same time a subjective being in themselves; i.e., they themselves are subjects, or more correctly, they have their own special subjects. Ideas are equally independent of both the rationalist abstractions and the sensual reality. Indeed, if material reality, perceived by our external senses, represents by itself only conditional and transitory phenomena, but not the self-existant beings of foundations of being; then these latter, although connected in a certain way with that external reality, must, nevertheless, formally differ from it, must have their own being independent of it; and, consequently, for the cognition of them as actual we need a special mode of mental activity, which we shall call by the term already known in philosophy, that of mental contemplation or intuition (intellektuelle Anschauung, Intuition), and which comprises the primeval form of the true knowledge, clearly' distinguished from sense-perception and experience, as well as from the rational or abstract thinking. This latter, it has been shown, cannot have any positive content of its own: an abstract concept, by its very definition, cannot go beyond that from which it was abstracted, it cannot itself transform accidental and particular facts into necessary and universal truths or ideas. Nevertheless, abstract reasoning undoubtedly has a special, although a negative and mediatory, significance as a transition or demarcation between the sense-perception of phenomena and the mental contemplation of ideas. Indeed, every general abstract concept contains the negation of all phenomena which enter into its scope in their particular, immediate peculiarity, and at the same time, and thereby, their affirmation in some new unity and in a new content which the abstract conception, by virtue of its purely negative origin, does not give but only indicates. Every general concept is thus a negation of a particular phenomenon, and an indication of a universal idea. Thus, in the former example, the general concept of 'man' not only includes a negation of the particular peculiarities of this or that man considered separately, but also affirms a certain new, higher unity, which embraces all men, but is at the same time different from them all, and, consequently, must possess its own special objectivity, which makes it to be their generic objective norm (we directly point to such a norm when we say: 'be a man', or 'act in conformity with human dignity', and so forth). But this objective norm, this content of the higher unity which embraces all human actuality—and yet is free from it—we shall, obviously, never reach by way of an abstraction in which that new unity comes only as an empty place left after the negation of that which is not. Hence it is clear that abstract thought is a transitory state of mind [appearing] when it [the mind] is strong enough to liberate itself from the exclusive domination of sense-perception and to adopt a negative attitude towards it, but is not as yet capable of grasping the idea in the entirety of its actual objective being, to unite with it internally and essentially; [when the mind] can only touch upon its surface (to use a metaphor), [or] glide over its external forms. The fruit of such an attitude is not a living image or likeness of an extant idea but only its shadow, which outlines its external boundaries and configurations without, however, the plenitude of forms, forces, and colours. Thus abstract thought, deprived of its own content, must either serve as an abbreviation [summation] of sense perception or as an anticipation of mental contemplation, in so far as the general concepts forming it can be affirmed either as schemes of phenomena or as shadows of ideas.³

As far as the latter are concerned, even if the necessity for the acknowledgment of them was not based on clear logical foundations, we would still have to acknowledge them on factual grounds, which give them the authenticity of the universal human experience: the reality of ideas and of mental contemplation is indubitably proved by the fact of artistic creation. Indeed, those images that are embodied by the artist in his works are neither a simple reproduction of observed phenomena in their particular and accidental reality, nor a general concept abstracted from that reality. Both, observation and abstraction, or generalization, are necessary for the working out of artistic ideas, but not for their creation—otherwise every observing and thoughtful man, every scientist and thinker could be a true artist, which is not the case. Anyone at all familiar with the process of artistic creation is well aware [of the fact] that artistic ideas and images are not complex products of observation and reflection, but appear to mental vision at once, in their inner wholeness (the artist sees them, as Goethe and Hoffman directly testified about themselves), and the subsequent artistic work means merely their development and embodiment in material details. Everyone knows that abstract intellectualism, as well as servile imitation of external reality, are equally deficiencies in artistic creation; everyone knows that the truly artistic image or type requires an inner unity of a perfect individuality with a complete generality or universality; and it is this unity which comprises the essential or the proper definition of an idea mentally contemplated, in contradistinction with the abstract concept which possesses only universality, [on one hand,] and [on the other] with the particular phenomenon which possesses only individuality. If, thus, neither a particular phenomenon, which is perceived through external experience, nor the general conception, which is developed by intellectual reflection, can he the object of artistic creation: then it is only the extant idea, which reveals itself to mental contemplation, that can constitute the object [of artistic creation]. [↑↑ to the beginning of the chapter V ↑↑]

Because of this direct connection of art with the metaphysical world of ideal beings, we find that the same national genius who first conceived the divine beginning as the ideal cosmos—the same national genius was also the real progenitor of art. Therefore, speaking of Greek idealism, we must understand by that term not only the philosophical idealism of Plato, but also all the rest of the world-view of the Greek people which was expressed in their whole culture and was their true religion. Platonism merely elevated to the level of the philosophical consciousness those ideal foundations which had lain in the artistic religion or the religious art of the Greeks. The Greeks learned from Plato only the philosophical formula of that ideal cosmos which was already known to them as a living reality in the Olympus of Homer and Phidias. If the ancient Greek cognated the divine beginning only as harmony and beauty, he certainly did not perceive its whole truth, for it is more then harmony and beauty; but, although it did not embrace the whole truth of the divine beginning, this idealism obviously represented a certain aspect, a certain side, of Divinity, contained in itself something divine in a positive sense. To assert the opposite, to regard that idealism as merely a pagan deception, means to assert that the truly divine has no need of harmony and beauty of form, that it can dispense with the realization of itself in the ideal cosmos. But (as is obviously the case) if beauty and harmony form a necessary and essential element of Divinity, then we must certainly acknowledge Grcek idealism as the first positive phase of religious revelation, [the phase] in which the divine beginning, removed from sensual nature, appeared in a new luminous kingdom populated not with poor shadows of the material world, nor with accidental creations of our imagination, but with real beings, which unite with the purity of the idea the whole force of being, and which are simultaneously objects of contemplation [for us] and subjects of existence (in themselves).

As we have seen, all ideas are inwardly interconnected, being equally partakers of the one all-embracing idea of the unconditional love, which, by its very nature, inwardly contains in itself all the 'other', is the focused expression of the whole, or is all as unity. But in order that this focusing, or this unity, be real, i.e., that it be unification of something, a separate existence of what is united, or its existence for itself, is obviously necessary in actual distinction from the one; and in order that ideas be separate, they must be independent beings with specific acting forces and specific centres or foci of those forces, i.e., they must be not only ideas, but monads and atoms. [↑↑ to the beginning of the chapter V ↑↑]

Thus, from the point of view of unity, from the point of view of the one universal idea, we come necessarily to the plurality of ideal beings, for without such plurality that is to say, in the absence of that which has to be united, the unity itself cannot be actual, cannot be manifest but remains potential, unrevealed existence, an empty possibility, or nothing. < On the other hand, just as every idea, i.e., every positive content necessarily presupposes a definite subject or bearer [of it], [that which] possesses definite forces for the realization of the idea; so also the all-one or the unconditional idea cannot be only a pure idea or a pure object: in order to become the essential unity of all and to actually connect everything through [the medium of] itself, it itself must obviously possess essentiality and reality, must exist in itself and for itself, and not only in the other one or for 'the other one'—in other words, the all-one idea must be the self:determination of the single central being. But what are we to think of that being?

If the objective idea, or the idea as object, i.e., in contemplation or for 'the other one', differs from all other ideas by its essential quality or character, [i.e.,] differs objectively; then, on its own part, the bearer of that idea, or its subject (to be more exact—the idea as the subject) must be distinguished from others subjectively, or by its existence; i.e., it must possess a separate reality of its own, be an independent centre for itself; must, consequently possess self-consciousness and personality. For otherwise, i.e., if the ideas differed only objectively by the cognizable qualities, but were not self-differentiated in their own inner being, they would really be but representations for him who thinks, would not be real beings—which as we know, cannot be admitted. [↑↑ to the beginning of the chapter V ↑↑]

Thus, the bearer of the idea, or the idea as a subject, is a person. These two terms, person and idea, are correlative as subject and object, and for the fullness of their activity are necessarily requisite to each other. Personality void of idea would be something empty, an external senseless force; there would be nothing for it to actualize; and therefore its existence would be only a striving, an effort to live, but not a real life. On the other hand, the idea without a corresponding subject or bearer to realize it, would be something completely passive and impotent, a pure object, i.e., something that could be only represented, but not anything really existing; for a real, full being the inward unity of personality and idea is necessary, as are heat and light in fire.

Applying what has been said to the unconditional idea, we find that, being defined by its objective substance as all-embracing or the all-one, it is at the same time defined also in its inner subjective existence as a singular and sole person containing in itself the whole in an equal manner and thereby equally differing from all.

Here for the first time we get the idea of the living God, and at the same time our former idea about God as the all receives a certain new explanation. God is the whole, this means that as every real being has a definite substance or content, of which he is the bearer, in reference to which he says 'I am', which is to say, I am this and not another; in the same way the divine being asserts its 'I am', but not in relation to any separate particular content, but in relation to all, i.e., in the first place, in relation to the unconditional, all-one, and all-embracing idea, and through it and in it, also in relation to the all separate ideas which constitute the scope and content of the unconditional idea. [↑↑ to the beginning of the chapter V ↑↑]

In the Bible, when Moses inquires about the name of God, he receives the answer: ehjeh ashen ehjeh, that is to say (literally), 'I will be whom I will be', i.e., I am I, or, I am the unconditional (ultimate) person.⁴

If in Indian Buddhism the divine beginning was defined negatively as Nirvana or nothingness; if in the Greek idealism it was defined objectively as the ideal whole or the universal essence, then in Jewish monotheism it receives an inner subjective definition as the pure I or the unconditional personality. This is the first individual, personal revelation of the divine beginning.

Neither Buddhism nor the platonic idealism assert the divine beginning in itself, express its own reality for itself: the ideal whole or unconditional idea can be only an attribute or the content of the unconditional beginning, but not that beginning itself.

If every idea has reality only when it is represented by a definite, specific being, then also the unconditional idea or the ideal whole can possess reality not by itself but as the content of the existant one, which is the subject or the bearer of that idea. [↑↑ to the beginning of the chapter V ↑↑]

Divinity, understood solely as the ideal cosmos, as the whole or as the harmony of all—such divinity appears to man only as a pure object, consequently, only in ideal contemplation; and a religion which confines itself to that has an intellectual, artistic character, exclusively contemplative, but not active; the divine beginning is revealed here for the imagination and feelings, but says nothing to the will of man. And a really moral element is completely foreign to the whole Greek world view.⁵ The whole domain of practical activity was left to the instincts, not to the principles. Although Greek philosophy was engaged in ethical problems, its doctrines came in their final result to a simple denial of the moral principle as such. If Socrates reduced virtue to knowledge, removing thus its substantial particularity, his great disciple recognized with a greater definiteness, as the highest good for man, as the norm and goal of man's life, a state in which all desires and all will disappear. According to Plato, the ideal man was a philosopher, and the characteristic peculiarity of a philosopher, using the expression of Plato himself (the Phaedo), lies in the fact that he continuously dies to practical life, i.e., is in a state of pure contemplation of eternal ideas, excluding any practical effort, any actual will. Therefore the ideal state also, according to Plato, should be a kingdom of philosophers; i.e., the supreme goal of the commonwealth also lies in the development of the theoretical sphere and its unconditional domination over practical life. Among the Stoics, likewise, the complete imperturbability of the spirit (intspaVts) was accepted as a moral norm, i.e., the pure negation of all definite will. But if therefore, here (as in Buddhism) the moral goal was the simple extinction of the will, this was true evidently because the unconditional norm, i.e., Divinity, was conceived here only as a pure object, impersonal and without a will, revealed therefore only in pure contemplation, as a state of moral indifference (in so far as good and evil are properties of the will, and not of knowledge); for if it was recognized that Divinity has the element of the will, an active principle of the will, then the moral task of man would be not the simple annihilation of his own will, but the substitution of the divine will for his own will. Therefore only that religion could have a positive moral value, could fill and define by itself the domain of practical life—only that religion in which Divinity was revealed as a willing person, whose will gives a supreme norm to the human will. Herein lies the essential significance of the Old Testament revelation, placing it incommensurately higher than all the other religions of antiquity. That Divinity must be a person exerting its will, a living God, in order that the personal will of man be determined in a positive way—is quite clear. But, it is asked, can Divinity in its unconditional nature, be a person? This question is obscured by misunderstandings born from the one-sidedness of opposing points of view, which, however, both equally contradict the most initial conception of Divinity, as unconditional. Thus, on one hand, those who affirm that Divinity has personality, habitually assert at the same time that Divinity is only a personality, i.e., is a certain personal being with such and such attributes. The pantheists rightfully rebel against that (position), pointing out that it implies a limitation of Divinity, deprives it of infinity and unconditionality, makes it one of many. It is obvious, indeed, that Divinity, as the absolute, cannot be only a personality, only an 'I', that it is more than a personality. But those who protest against this limitation also fall into an opposite one-sidedness in stating that Divinity is simply deprived of personal being, that it is merely an impersonal substance of the all. But if Divinity is substance, i.e., the self-existent, then, as containing all in itself, it must differ from all or assert its own being, for otherwise there would be no subject of the containing, and Divinity, deprived of its inward independence, would become not the substance (of all) but merely an attribute of the whole. Thus, in its capacity of substance, Divinity must possess self-determination and cognizance of itself (reflection), i.e., personality and consciousness.

Thus, obviously, the truth lies in the fact that the divine beginning is not solely a personality, solely in the sense that it is not exhausted by a personal definition, that it is not only the one but also the whole, that it is not only the individual but also the all-embracing being; that it is not only the extant one but also essence. [↑↑ to the beginning of the chapter V ↑↑]

As the unconditional, the subject (of all), it is also substance; being a personality or having personal being (existence), it is also the unconditional content or the idea which fills that personal being (existence). Divinity is greater than personal being, it is free from it, but not because it is deprived of it (that would be a poor freedom), but because, possessing that personal being, it is not exhausted by it, but has also another definition, which makes it free from the first one.

In the historical development of religious consciousness gradually reaching towards the whole truth, the pagan world, the flower of which was expressed in Hellenism, established the Divinity as pre-eminently all (the whole). Of the two necessary momenti of divine reality: the personal or subjective one, and the ideal or objective, this (the Hellenic) world conceived and expressed in a definite manner only the second one. Judaism, on the contrary, forming in this respect a direct opposite to Hellenism, conceived and realized in a definite way the first momentum, that of the personal or subjective reality (of the unconditional); it conceived Divinity as the extant one or (as) the pure Ego.

Of course, this contrast was not and could not be absolute. Plato, the greatest representative of the Hellenic spirit, developed the doctrine of ideas and of Divinity as the supreme idea; but we also find in the same Plato the definition of Divinity as the demiurge, i.e., creative being, which forms the world according to unconditional norms and ideas. But such a view appears in Plato and in the whole of Greek philosophy only in passing; it is overshadowed by another, the dominant view according to which the divine beginning is not a being but is only the ideal whole. [↑↑ to the beginning of the chapter V ↑↑]

Likewise in Judaism, although Divinity is defined as the extant one or 'I', we also find a conception of that I as possessing unconditional content. But here, too, this second conception is generally engulfed by the first; the dominant understanding of God in Judaism, is, without doubt, the understanding of Him as the pure 'I', regardless of any content; 'I am that I am' — and that is all.

But the I in its unconditional centrality is something absolutely impermeable, is the exclusion from itself of all else, of all that is not I; the unconditional I must be the sole independent being, which does not admit independent reality in anything else—'I am the consuming fire', says God of Himself in the Old Testament. What can be the relation of human personality to the divine beginning thus affirmed (defined)? If the divine beginning, as the unconditional I, as the one independent being, excludes any other independence, then man's relation to it can be only an unconditional subordination, an unconditional renunciation of all independence (on his part). Man must acknowledge that in his whole being and in his whole life he represents only a consequence, only a product of the unconditional will of that unconditional I. [↑↑ to the beginning of the chapter V ↑↑]

The unconditional I is impermeable for another I; it appears for him as an external force, the action of this force is for him necessity, and the acknowledgment of necessity is the law. Thus, the religion of the unconditional personal God is a religion of the law, because for the self-asserting human ego, while it remains in (the process of) that self-assertion, the unconditional being must necessarily appear as external, and his will—the external law.

But the revelation of the Old Testament—and herein is its full truth and justification—contains in itself the acknowledgment that the religion of the law is not the normal, true religion, but only a necessary transition to another, non-external relation or bond with the divine beginning. This acknowledgment is expressed by the prophets, and the truth of the Old Testament religion of the Bible consists in the fact that it is not only the religion of the law, but also the religion of the prophets.

The ceremonies and sacrifices established by the law can in no way by themselves express the will of God: as unconditional, this will cannot be connected with any external object, no external action can satisfy it—before it disappear all differences between the holy and the impure in external objects and acts. Although certain acts are established by the law of Jehovah, yet there cannot be any internal relation between them and Jehovah, and if man thinks to satisfy the absolute will merely by the execution of those acts, these acts thereby become impure and criminal. [↑↑ to the beginning of the chapter V ↑↑]

`To what purpose is the multitude of your sacrifices unto me? saith the Lord: I am full of the burnt offerings of rams, and the fat of fed beasts; and I delight not in the blood of bullocks, or of lambs, or of he goats. When ye come to appear before me, who hath required this at your hand, to treat my courts? Bring no more vain oblations; incense is an abomination unto me; the new moons and sabbaths, the calling of assemblies, I cannot away with; it is iniquity, even the solemn meeting. Your new moons and your appointed feasts my soul hateth; they are a trouble unto me; I am weary to bear them' (Isaiah I, 11-14).

`Thus saith the Lord of hosts, the God of Israel: Put your burnt offerings unto your sacrifices, and eat flesh. For I spake not unto your fathers nor commanded them in the day that I brought them out of the land of Egypt, concerning burnt offerings or sacrifices: But this thing commanded I them, saying, Obey my voice, and I will be your God, and ye shall be my people; and walk ye in all the ways that I have commanded you, that it may be well unto you'. (Jeremiah VII, 21-23).

The ceremonies and sacrifices established by the law can in no way by themselves express the will of God: as unconditional, this will cannot be connected with any external object, no external action can satisfy it—before it disappear all differences between the holy and the impure in external objects and acts. Although certain acts are established by the law of Jehovah, yet there cannot be any internal relation between them and Jehovah, and if man thinks to satisfy the absolute will merely by the execution of those acts, these acts thereby become impure and criminal. [↑↑ to the beginning of the chapter V ↑↑]

'Thus saith the Lord, The heaven is my throne, and the earth is my footstool; where is the house that ye build unto me? and where is the place of my rest? For all those things hath mine hand made, and all those things have been, saith the Lord: but to this man will I look, even to him that is poor and of a contrite spirit, and trembled' at my word. He that killed' an ox is as if he slew a man; he that sacrificed' a lamb, as if he cut off a dog's neck; he that offereth an oblation, as if he offered swine's blood; he that burned' incense, as if he blessed an idol'. (Isaiah LXVI, 1-3).

But if the divine will can have no separate definite object—and yet as a will it must relate to something—then, obviously, its object can only be all. The will of God, as absolute, cannot exclude anything from itself, or what is the same thing, desire anythirt exclusively: knowing no privation, it knows no envy; it equally asserts the being and the good of all, and therefore is defined itself as the unconditional grace or love. 'Yea, I have loved thee with an everlasting love; therefore with lovingkindness have I drawn thee'. (Jeremiah XXXI, 3).

But if the will of God is love, then by this is determined the internal law for the human will also. [↑↑ to the beginning of the chapter V ↑↑]

'Is not this the fast that I have chosen? to loose the bands of wicked-ness, to undo the heavy burdens, and to let the oppressed go free, and that ye break every yoke? Is it not to deal thy bread to the hungry, and that thou bring the poor that are cast out to thy house? when thou seest the naked, that thou cover him; and that thou hide not thyself from thine own flesh? Then shall thy light break forth as the morning and thine health shall spring forth speedily: and thy righteousness shall go before thee; the glory of the Lord shall be thy rereward. Then shalt thou call, and the Lord shall answer; thou shall cry, and he shall say, here I am. If thou take away from the midst of thee the yoke, the putting forth of the finger, and speaking vanity; And if thou draw out thy soul to the hungry, and satisfy the afflicted soul; then shall thy light rise in obscurity, and thy darkness be as the noonday'. (Isaiah LVIII, 6-10).

The will of God must be the law and norm for the human will not as ratified despotism, but as the cognated (and accepted, chosen) good. Upon this internal relationship is to be (established) a new covenant between God and mankind, a new divine-human order ('godmanhood') which is to replace die other, preliminary and transitory, religion which was grounded in the external law. [↑↑ to the beginning of the chapter V ↑↑]

'Behold, the days come, saith the Lord, that I will make a new covenant with the house of Israel, and with the house of Judah: Not according to the covenant that I made with their fathers in the day that I took them by the hand to bring them out of the land of Egypt; which my covenant they brake, although I was an husband unto them, saith die Lord: But this shall be the covenant that I will make with the house of Israel; After those days, saith the Lord, I will put my law in their inward parts, and write it in their hearts; and will be their God, and they shall be my people. And they shall teach no more every man his neighbour, and every man his brother, saying: Know the Lord: for they shall all know me, from the least of them unto the greatest of them, saith the Lord: for I will forgive their iniquity, and I will remember their sin no more'. (Jeremiah XXXI, 31-34).

That new divine-human covenant, based upon the internal law of love, must be free from all exclusiveness: here there can be no place for any arbitrary choice or condemnation of persons and nations; the new internal covenant is the universal covenant, which restores all humanity, and through it also the whole of nature.

'And it shall come to pass in the last days that the mountain of the Lord's house shall be established in the top of the mountains, and shall be exalted above the hills; and all nations shall flow unto it. And many people shall go and say, Come ye, and let us go up to the mountain of the Lord, to the house of the God of Jacob; and he will teach us of his ways, and we will walk in his paths; for out of Zion shall go forth the law (the law-Giver, Adonai, the Messiah) and the word of the Lord (the Word, Christ) from Jerusalem. And he shall judge among the nations, and shall rebuke many people; and they shall beat their swords into plowshares, and their spears into pruninghooks:' (Isaiah II, 2-4). [↑↑ to the beginning of the chapter V ↑↑]

'The wolf also shall dwell with the lamb, and the leopard shall lie down with the kid; and the calf and the young lion and the fatling together; and a little child shall lead them. And the cow and the bear shall feed; their young ones shall lie down together: and the lion shall eat straw like the ox. And the sucking child shall play on the hole of the asp, and the weaned child shall put his hand on the cockatrice' den. They shall not hurt nor destroy in all my holy mountain: for the earth shall be full of the knowledge of the Lord, as the waters cover the sea. And in that day there shall be a root of Jesse, which shall stand for an ensign of the people, to it shall the Gentiles seek: and his rest shall be glorious'. (Isaiah XI, 6-10).

  ↑↑↑   Lecture Six

We have seen that the essential principle of Judaism—the revelation of God in his unconditional oneness, as the pure I—was being set free from its exclusiveness already in the revelation of the prophets of Israel, to whom God appeared not as the pure I only, which in its activity has no other basis besides the exclusively—subjective principle of arbitrary will that subjects man to itself by external force, arousing fear in him (as such to the Jew appeared, at first El-Shaddai, the God of force and fear; and as such, mainly, even now, Allah appears to the Mohammedans). To the prophets, God was revealed as possessing a definite, essential, ideal definition, as the all-embracing love—in consequence of which the action of God upon the 'other one', his relation to man, became defined by the objective idea of the absolute good, and the law of His being appeared no longer as a purely arbitrary will (in Himself) and an external, forced necessity (for man); but as an internal necessity, or true freedom. In conformity with this broadening of the religious principle, in the prophets the Jewish national consciousness also came to be broader. If the revelation of God as the exclusive I was answered in the people of God also with an exclusive assertion of its own national ego among other nations, then the consciousness to which God revealed Himself as the universal idea, as the all-embracing love, necessarily had to be emancipated from national egoism, necessarily had to become pan-human. [↑↑ to the beginning of the chapter VI ↑↑]

Such was, indeed the consciousness of the prophets. Jonah preached the will of Jehovah to the pagans of Nineveh; Isaiah and Jeremiah heralded the coming revelation as the banner of the nations, to which all nations shall flow. Yet the Jewish prophets were at the same time really the greatest patriots, fully permeated with the national idea of Judaism; precisely because they were completely permeated with it, they had to understand it as universal, as predestined for all men—as sufficiently great and broad to be able to unite with itself inwardly all humanity and the whole world. In this regard the example of the Jewish prophets—the greatest patriots and at the same time the greatest representatives of universalism—is in the highest degree instructive for us, for it points to the fact that if true patriotism is necessarily free from national exclusiveness and egoism, then at the same time and thereby, the true pan-human point of view, the true universalism, in order to be something, in order to possess actual force and positive content, must necessarily be an expansion or universalization of a positive national idea, but not an empty and indifferent cosmopolitanism.

Thus, in the prophetic consciousness, the subjective, purely personal element of die Old Testament Jahve [the extant One] was united for the first time with the objective idea of the universal divine essence. But since the prophets were inspired men of action, were practical men in the highest sense of that word, and not contemplative thinkers, the synthetic idea of the divine being was for them more of a perception of [their] spiritual sense and the stirring of [their] moral will than an object of mental perception. Yet, in order to fill and define with itself the whole consciousness of man, that idea had to become also an object of thought. If the truth of Divinity consists in unity of God as the extant One, or [the unity of] the unconditional Subject with His absolute essence or objective idea, this unity, this inner relation of the two elements (the personal and the essential) in Divinity, must be conceived of in a certain manner, must be defined. And if one of these divine elements (the unconditional personality of God) was pre-eminently revealed to the genius of the Jewish people, while the other one (the absolute idea of Divinity) was perceived particularly by the genius of Hellenism, it is very easy to understand that the synthesis of these two elements (which is necessary for the full knowledge of God) could come into being the soonest at the time and the place at which the Jewish and Greek nationalities collided. [↑↑ to the beginning of the chapter VI ↑↑]

And, in fact, die realization of this great intellectual task was commenced in Alexandria among Hellenistic Jews (i.e., those [Jews] who had received the Greek education), die outstanding representative of whom was the renowned Philo (who was born sometime before Christ and died in the apostolic era); who, as we know, developed the doctrine of the Logos (the word or reason), as 'the expressor' of the divine universal essence and [as] the mediator between the one God and all that exists. In connection with this doctrine of the Logos, as its further development, also in Alexandria appeared the doctrine of the Neo-platonics concerning the three Divine hypostasies, which effect die absolute content or express in a definite manner the relation of God as the one to the whole, as the extant One to being. This doctrine was developed by the Neoplatonics independently of Christianity; the most important representative of Neoplatonism, Plotinus, lived in the second century A.D., yet knew very little about Christianity. However, it is totally impossible to deny the connection between the doctrine of Philo and Neoplatonism on the one hand and Christianity, i.e., the Christian doctrine of the Holy Trinity, or of the triune God, on the other. If the essence of the divine life was defined by the thinkers of Alexandria in a purely apperceptive way on the basis of the theoretical idea of a Divinity, in Christianity the same all-one divine life appeared as a fact, as an historical reality, in the living individuality of an historical personality. Christians alone came to know the divine Logos and the Spirit, not from the point of view of logical or metaphysical categories, under which they appeared in the Alexandrian philosophy, but for the first time recognized the Logos in their crucified and resurrected Saviour, and the Spirit in the living, concretely experienced, beginning force of their own spiritual regeneration. But does it follow from this that these metaphysical and logical definitions of the Trinity were alien to Christianity as a doctrine, and did not represent a certain part of the [Christian] truth? Quite on the contrary: as soon as the Christians themselves felt the need of making this divine life which had been revealed to them, an object of thought, that is, of explaining it [on the basis of] its internal foundation in Divinity itself—[as soon as the Christians felt] the need of understanding as a universal idea that which they had experienced as a particular fact—they naturally turned toward the intellectual definitions of the Greek and Graeco-Jewish thinkers, who had already perceived the theoretical truth of those principles, the manifestations of which (they) the Christians, experienced as a living actuality. And, in fact, we see that the first writings concerning God and His inner life by the Christian teachers—Justin the Philosopher, Hippolytus, Clement of Alexandria, and especially Origen- reproduced the essential truth of the doctrine of Philo and Neoplatonism, [that truth] appearing [now in the form of] different variations of the same contemplative theme, the self-revelation of the all-One Divinity; and we know also that St. Athanasius die Great, in revealing the true dogma of the Trinity, relied upon the same Origen, who at that time enjoyed in the Church the high authority which he fully deserved.¹

The assertion of essential kinship between the Christian dogma of the Holy Trinity and die Graeco-Jewish thoughts on the same subject, by no means lessens the original value of Christianity itself as a positive revelation. In fact, the originality of Christianity is not in its general views, but in [its] positive facts; not in the apperceptive content of its idea, but in the personal incarnation of that idea. This originality cannot be taken away from Christianity, and for its assertion it is not necessary to try to prove, in spite of history and common sense, that all the ideas of the Christian dogmatics came as something completely new, that they dropped, so to speak, ready-made from Heaven. Such was not the opinion of those great fathers of the ancient Church who affirmed that the same divine Reason, which was revealed in Christ, even before His incarnation enlightened with the eternal truth the inspired wise men of paganism, who were, [thus] Christians before Christ.²

Passing now to the exposition of this doctrine itself, concerning the trinity of Divinity as the all-one—the doctrine which is at once the crown of the pre-Christian religious wisdom and the basic apperceptive beginning of Christianity—I shall not dwell upon the details of the teaching, for they appear in one or another system in the works of Philo or Plotinus, of Origen or Gregory the Theologian; I have in mind only the essential truth of this doctrine, common to all its variations, and shall expound that truth in a form which I deem to be the most logical, the most pertinent in regard to the requirements of contemplative reason.

God is the extant One, that is to say, to Him belongs being. He possesses being. But one cannot just be, only be; the assertion I am, or this is, necessarily raises the question, what I am, or what this is. Being in general connotes, obviously, only an abstract conception, while actual being necessarily demands not only a definite extant-one as the subject of which it is said that it is, but also a definite objective content, or essence, as the predicate which answers the question: What is this subject, or what does it represent? Thus, if in the grammatical sense the verb 'to be' forms only a link between the subject and the predicate, then logically also being can be thought of only as the relation of the extant one to its objective essence or content—the relation in which it asserts, posits or manifests this (its) content, this (its) essence, in one way or another.³ Indeed, if we supposed a being which in no way asserts or established any objective content, which does not represent anything, which is not anything either in itself and for itself, or for anyone else, then we would have no logical right to acknowledge the existence of such a being; for in the absence of all actual content, being would become but an empty word, by which nothing would be meant, nothing would be asserted; and the only possible answer to the question: What is this being, would be nothing.⁴

If, thus, God as the extant one cannot represent being in general only, since that would have meant that lie has nothing (in the negative sense), or simply that He did not exist at all; and if on the other hand, God as the absolute cannot be merely something, cannot be limited by any particular definite content: then the only possible answer to the question, What is God, appears to be the one already known to us, namely, that God is all; that is to say, all in the positive sense, or the unity of 'all comprises the proper content, object, or objective essence of God; and that being, the actual being of God is the establishment or the positing of this content, of this essence; and in it, the assertion of Him who posits, or the extant One. The logical necessity of this proposition is evident. If the divine essence were not all-one, did not contain all, then something existant could, consequently, be outside of God; but in such a case God would be limited by this being, external to Himself: God would not be absolute, i.e., He would not be God. Thus the assertion of the all-unity of God does away with the dualism which leads to atheism. On the other hand, the same assertion, establishing in God the whole fullness or the totality of all being as His eternal essence, has neither the incentive nor the logical possibility of connecting the divine being with the particular conditional reality of the natural world; consequently, that assertion does away with the naturalistic pantheism, which understands under the [term] 'all' not the eternal fullness of the divine being, but only the aggregate of natural phenomena, the unity of which it calls God. Finally, as we shall presently see, our assertion of God as the all-one does away with the idealistic pantheism [also], which identifies God as the extant One with His objective idea.

Indeed, if all represents the content or essence of God, then God as the subject or the extant One, i.e., as the one who possesses this content or essence, is necessarily distinguished from it; as we have to distinguish in every being it itself as a subject from that which forms its content, which is asserted or expressed by it or in it—we have to distinguish 'the expressor' from the expressed, or Himself [the subject] from His own [the subject's attribute]. And a distinction is a relation. Thus God, as the existant one, is in a certain relation towards His content or essence; He manifests or asserts it. In order to assert it as His own, He must possess it substantially, i.e., [He] must be the whole or the unity of the whole in an eternal inner act. As the unconditional beginning, God must include or contain all in Himself in uninterrupted and immediate substantial unity. In this first status, all is contained in God, i.e., in the divine subject or the extant One, as in its common root; all is engulfed or immersed in Him as in its common source; consequently, here, all as totality is not distinguished actually, but exists only as a possibility, potentially. In other words, in that first status only, as the extant One, is God actual; whereas His content—all or the universal essence exists only in a latent state, potentially; although [it is] also present here, for without it, as we have seen, the extant One Himself would be nothing, i.e., would not exist. In order that it be actual, God not only must contain it in Himself, but must assert it for Himself, i.e., He must assert it as the 'other one' [His antipode], must manifest and actualize it as something distinct from Himself. [↑↑ to the beginning of the chapter VI ↑↑]

Thus we get the second mode, or the second status of the extant One; that all or the universal content, that proper essence of God, which in the first status or in the first mode (manner) of existence was contained in a latent state, only as potential, here, in this second mode [of being] comes forth as a certain ideal actuality; if in the first state it was hidden in the depth of the subjective, unmanifested being, here it is set forth as an object.

This object cannot, of course, be external to the divine subject. Since the latter, in the capacity of the absolute, cannot have anything outside of Himself, it is only His own inner content, which He through His own internal action distinguishes from Himself as from the extant One, segregates Himself, or objectifies it. Should we wish to find an analogy for this relation in the world of our own experience, then the most fitting one would appear to be the relation of an artist towards the artistic idea in the act of creation. Indeed, the artistic idea is not anything alien, external to the artist; it is his own inner essence, the essence [being] of his own spirit and the content of his life, which makes him to be what he is; and in aiming to realize or embody that idea in an actual artistic creation, he wishes merely to have this essence of his, this idea, not only in himself, but also for himself, or before himself as an object; wishes to represent [that which is] his own as his 'other one' [his antipode], [to represent it] in another, objective, mode.⁵

Thus the second state or the second mode of being of the extant One is but a different expression if that which is already in the first. But in the first state that which is being expressed, i.e., the absolute content as the totality of all essential forms or the fullness of all ideas, appears only internally, in the positive possibility or power of the absolute subject, and consequently has only the essential, not the actual being, since all actuality belongs here to this unconditional subject, or the extant One in His immediate unity. He, as the one, is here a pure act, pure unconditional actuality, about which we can get a certain knowledge when—abstracting ourselves from all the manifested, already formed content of our external and internal life, abstracting ourselves not only from all the impressions, but also from all the feelings, thoughts, and desires—we gather all our forces in a single concentration of immediate spiritual being, in the positive power of which are found all the acts of our spirit, and by which is defined the entire circumference of our life. When we plunge into that mute and immovable depth from which the muddy stream of our actuality takes its beginning, without violating its chastity and peace—in that generic source of our spiritual life, we inwardly come into contact with the original source of the universal life, come to cognate God essentially, as the primordial beginning or the substance of all: we come to know [then] God the Father. Such is the first image of the extant One, the reality of Him alone. In order that not only He Himself as the subject, but also that of which He is the subject, i.e., the whole fullness of the absolute content might receive the same actuality and from potential become actual, a certain act of self-determination or self-limitation of the extant One is necessary. Indeed, outside of God, [regarded] as the absolute, there is not, and cannot be, anything unconditionally independent, anything that from the beginning might have been His 'other one', which would have determined the extant One from outside of Him: therefore, every definite being [existence] can be primordially only an act of self-determination of the absolutely-extant One. In this act, the extant One on one hand contrasts himself; sets forth Himself in contradistinction with his own content as its 'other one', or as an object—this is the act of self-differentiation of the extant One into two poles, one of which expresses the unconditional oneness, while the other one expresses the 'all', or plurality; on the other hand, through his own self-determination the extant One receives a certain active force, becomes energy. [↑↑ to the beginning of the chapter VI ↑↑]

In fact, if the extant One were only in the first states i.e., if it were only an unlimited and consequently indifferent act, it would not be able to act; for then it would have no real object for which the (being in itself actuality) would appear as a positive possibility or force. For every action by its own meaning is a unity of force and actuality, or a manifestation of its own inner actuality, as force, on its 'other one', or for the 'other one'. And since outside of God there is nothing, and His object is contained in Himself, then His action is not a determination of the other by another [of one antipode by another antipode] but self-determination, i.e., the segregation from Himself of His own content, or the objectivization of it through self-limitation in its immediate, unlimited, or purely-actual being. As the absolute, Divinity cannot be only an immediate act, it has to be a potentiality or power also; but, as contained in the absolute, this power is only its own power over itself, or over its own immediacy. If a limitation by another contradicts the conception of the absolute, self-limitation not only does not contradict it, but is directly demanded by it. In fact, in determining itself and thereby actuating its own content, the extant, obviously, not only does not lose its own actuality, but on the contrary realized it fully, becoming actual not only in itself, but also for itself. Since that which God actualizes in the act of His own self-determination—all, or the fullness of everyone—is His own content or substance; then, also, its realization is only the full expression or manifestation of that being to whom this content or substance belongs, and who is expressed in or by it in the same way as the subject is expressed by the predicate. Thus, returning to our illustration, the poet who fully gives himself to creation and, so to speak, translates his own inner life into objective artistic creations, not only does not lose his own individuality through this, but on the contrary, asserts it in the highest degree and realizes it more completely. [↑↑ to the beginning of the chapter VI ↑↑]

The absolutely-extant which itself is not subject to any determination, determines itself by manifesting itself as the unconditionally-one through the positing of its 'other one', or its content, i.e., all: for the truly one is that which does not exclude plurality, but on the contrary produces that plurality in itself and yet is by no means changed by it, but remains what it is, remains one and thereby proves that it is un-conditionally one—one, that is to say, by its very being, whose oneness cannot be taken away or destroyed by any plurality. If the one were such only because of the absence of plurality, i.e., if it represented a simple lack of plurality, and, consequently, with the appearance of the latter would have lost its character of oneness—obviously that oneness would be only accidental, and not unconditional; plurality would have had power over it, it would have been subordinate to plurality. The true unconditional oneness is necessarily stronger than plurality, excels it; it can prove or realize this superiority only by generating or positing in itself actually all plurality, and constantly triumphing over it: for everything is tested by its own opposite. In the same way our spirit also is truly single not because it would be deprived of plurality, but, on the contrary, because it manifests in itself an infinite plurality of feelings, thoughts, and desires, and at the same time always remains itself and communicates the character of its spiritual oneness [unity] to the whole natural element of the plurality of [its] manifestations, making it [that plurality] its own, belonging to it [to the spirit of man) alone.

      As the immobile depth in mighty space
      Remains the same as in stormy commotion,
      So the spirit is clear and bright in free repose,
      But in passionate desire, [also] remains the same.
      Freedom, captivity, repose, and commotion
      Pass by and appear again,
      But it [the spirit] is always one, and its elemental striving
      Merely reveals its power.

In its other one, the extant remains what it is; in plurality it remains one. But this identity and this unity necessarily differ frem that identity, that oneness, which are represented by the first status of the extant: there it is immediate and indifferent—here, it is already asserted, manifested, or mediated, passed through its own antithesis, i.e., through a differentiation, and thereby strengthened (potentiated). Thus we here meet a new, the third, state or mode of the absolutely-extant—[one in which it has] the aspect of a finished, completed unity: or the absolute which has asserted itself as such. [↑↑ to the beginning of the chapter VI ↑↑]

Thus we have three relations or three states of the absolutely-extant [regarded] as determining itself in relation to its content. In the first it is posited as possessing this content in an immediate substantial oneness or indifference with [regard to] itself—it is posited as the one substance, essentially containing all in its unconditional power. In the second, it is posited as manifesting or realizing its absolute content by contra-posing it to itself, or detaching it from itself by the act of its own self-determination. In the third, finally, it is posited as preserving and asserting itself in its own content, or as manifesting itself in the actual, mediated, or differentiated oneness [which is now its unity] with this content or essence, i.e., with all—in other words, as the one which finds itself in its 'other one', or [the extant one] eternally returning unto itself and in itself subsisting. [↑↑ to the beginning of the chapter VI ↑↑]

This is only the three-fold nature of relations, states, or modes of existence. A similar three-fold character is exemplified by our own spirit, if only we acknowledge it as self-subsisting, i.e., as a real being. If we turn our attention to our inner psychical life, we observe first of all certain complex of definite phenomena of the soul: we find there a series of conditions which we experience—desires, thoughts, feelings, in which or by which, in one way or another, is expressed our inner character, is revealed the qualitative content of our spirit. All these states, which we immediately observe, are experienced by us consciously (for otherwise they would, obviously, not be accessible to direct observation) and in this sense they can be called the states of our consciousness; in them our spirit is the active or self-realizing force, [and] they [the states of our consciousness] comprise its inner reality, or its expressed determined being.

But it is easy to see that the being of our spirit is not exhausted by this psychical actuality, that it constitutes only one periodic phase of our existence, beyond the bright field of which repose the depths of the spiritual being, which does not enter into the actual consciousness of the present moment. It would be illogical, it would contradict experience to limit the being of our spirit solely to its actual, differentiated life, to its revealed, palpable actuality, i.e., to assume that at every moment the spirit is only that of which it is conscious (in itself) at that moment. Indeed, from the logical standpoint it is evident that the spirit as manifesting itself, or in its inner integrity, must always be prior to its given manifestation—while from the empirical standpoint, indubitable experience shows that not only the domain of our real consciousness, i.e., of the consciousness of external objects, but even the domain of our inner actual consciousness, i.e., of the differentiated awareness of our own states, is only a superficial, or, more precisely, a secondary state of our spirit; and that at a given moment this secondary state may well not be [present] and its absence would not destroy our spiritual being. Here I have in mind all those conditions in which the thread of our differentiated consciousness of the external as well as of the internal world is broken off, although the spirit itself certainly does not disappear, if we admit its existence in general; such are the states of the normal hypnotic sleep, of fainting, and so forth. [↑↑ to the beginning of the chapter VI ↑↑]

Thus, admitting in general the existence of our spirit, we must acknowledge that it has a primordial substantial being independently of its own particular manifestation in a series of separate acts and states—we must acknowledge that it exists on a deeper level than all that inner reality which constitutes our current, present life. In this primordial depth lie the roots of that which we call ourselves, or our I; otherwise, i.e., if our ego, our personal being, were connected exclusively with the expressed, differentiated acts of the life of our soul, with the socalled conditions of our consciousness, then in the cases mentioned above (of sleep, fainting, and so forth) with the disappearance of consciousness we would also disappear ourselves as spiritual beings, in order to reappear suddenly with the return of consciousness, fully armed with all our spiritual forces—a supposition which is (if one admits the existence of the spirit, of course) completely absurd.

Thus, in the first place, we have our primordial indivisible or integral subject; in it, in a certain manner, is already contained the whole proper content of our spirit, our essence or idea, which determines our individual character; if it were otherwise, i.e., if this idea and this character were but the products of our phenominal (manifested) life, or depended upon our conscious acts and states, then it would be incomprehensible why we do not lose that character and idea together with the loss of our vital consciousness (in the states mentioned above), why our conscious life, in being renewed every day, does not form in us [every day] a new character, a new life-content; whereas the identity of the basic character or personal idea amidst all the changes of conscious life, clearly indicates that this character and idea are contained already in that primordial subject [of our ego] which is deeper and more primary than our conscious life—are contained, of course, only substantially, in an immediate unity with it, as its inner, as yet unrevealed or un-incarnated idea. In the second place, we have our differentiated conscious life—the manifestation or expression of our spirit; here our content or essence exists actually in the multitude of diverse manifestations, to which it communicates a definite character, manifesting in them its own peculiarity. In the third place, finally, since with all their plurality, these manifestations are but the disclosures of one and the same spirit equally present in all of them, we can reflect upon, or return into, ourselves from these manifestations or disclosures and assert ourselves actually, as a single subject, as a definite I, the oneness of which is, thus, not only not lost by its self-differentiation in the multitude of states and acts of conscious life but, on the contrary, is established in an increased degree; this return to oneself, this reflection upon oneself or assertion of oneself in one's manifestation, is precisely what is called self-consciousness; it appears whenever we not only experience certain states of feeling, thinking, and so on, but also, pausing at these states in a special inward action, assert ourselves as a subject which experiences them, as one who feels, thinks, and so forth, i.e., when we inwardly say: I feel, I think, etc. If in the second state our spirit manifests or discloses its content i.e., segregates it from itself as something other [than itself], then here, in this third state, our spirit manifests or asserts the content in self-consciousness as its own—and, consequently, itself as one who has manifested it. [↑↑ to the beginning of the chapter VI ↑↑]

Thus the three-fold relationship of our subject to its content is the same as the relationship of the unconditional or absolutely-extant subject to its unconditional content or the universal essence, which was pointed out above. But here the equality between our being and that of the absolute [being] ends. Indeed, in the actuality of our spirit the three conditions mentioned [above] are but periodical phases of the inner being, which replace one another; or, to put it more exactly, only the first condition of the spirit as existing in itself is permanent and unalterably abiding, while the other two may exist or not—they are only phenomena, not substances. The spirit as substance, exists always and necessarily (the first proposition). But then it can either limit itself with this substantial existence, remain in inner inactivity, retaining all its forces and all its content in the depth of the essential and undifferentiated being (the first phase); or disclose and manifest its forces and its content in a distinctive conscious life, in a series of the states of the soul which it experiences, and actions which it effects (the second phase); or to reflect, finally, upon these states and these acts as experienced and performed by it, to recognize them as its own, and, because of this, to assert itself, its I, as possessing these powers and as revealing its content in those definite states and actions (the third phase). Here therefore, one and the same subject of being, one and the same spirit, appears at different moments as only essential or substantial; or over and above this, as active and actual; or, finally, as self-conscious or asserting itself in its own revealed actuality. This change of the three modes takes place in time, and it is possible only in so far as we exist in time. Indeed, these three states exclude one another one cannot be at the same time inactive and active, manifest one's forces and content and keep them hidden; one cannot at one and the same time experience definite states and reflect upon them—one cannot simultaneously think, and think about one's own thought.

Thus, these three states or modes of existence, which cannot be present in a single subject simultaneously, can belong to it only at different moments of time; their belonging to this subject as distinct phases of its being, is necessarily conditioned by the element of time. But it can refer, thus, only to limited beings, [those] living in time. For the absolute being, which by its very meaning cannot be conditioned by the element of time, such an alternation of its three states, or of the three relations of it to its substance or content, appears perfectly impossible: it must present these three states simultaneously, in one external act. But three states, excluding each other, in one and the same act of one and the same subject, are decidedly unthinkable. One and the same eternal subject cannot at the same time conceal in itself all its determinants and manifest them for itself, segregating them as its 'other one', and remain in them by itself, as in its own; or, to use Biblical language, one and the same divine hypostasis cannot be at the same time 'the one who dwells in the inaccessible light, whom no man has ever seen', and be also 'the light which lighteth every man that cometh into the world'—one and the same hypostasis cannot be the Word `by whom all things were made', as well as be the Spirit who `trieth all things'. [↑↑ to the beginning of the chapter VI ↑↑]

But if so, if on the one hand, there cannot be in the absolute being three consecutive acts, [at once simultaneous and] succeeding one another; while on the other hand, three eternal acts, by their definition mutually excluding one another, are unthinkable in a single subject; then it is necessary to assume for these three eternal acts three eternal subjects (hypostases), the second of which, being immediately begotten by the first, is the direct image of its hypostasis, expresses by its actuality the essential content of the first, serves for it as the eternal expression or the Word; while the third, proceeding from the first, as from the one who has already found its expression in the second, asserts the second as expressed or in its expression.

But it is possible to ask: If God as the first subject already contains the unconditional content or the whole what need is there, then, for the other two subjects? But God, as the absolute or the unconditional, cannot be content with the mere fact that He has all in Himself; He must possess all not only in Himself, but also for Himself and by Himself. Without such fullness of existence Divinity cannot be completed or absolute, i.e., cannot be God; consequently, to ask, What is the need for God to find Himself in this triune positing of Himself, is the same as to ask: What is the need for God to be God? [↑↑ to the beginning of the chapter VI ↑↑]

But, admitting the three divine subjects, how can one escape contradiction with the requirements of monotheism? Do not these three subjects appear as three Gods?

It is necessary to agree, first, what is to be understood by the word 'God'. If we designate by this name any subject which, in one way or another, is participant of the divine essence, then we must necessarily acknowledge not only three but a great multitude of gods, for every being somehow or other participates in the divine essence according to the word of God: 'I have said; Ye are gods, and ye are all the children of the Most Highest'⁶. If, however, with the name of God one is to unite the total and actual possession of the whole fullness of the divine content in all its aspects, then (not to mention finite beings) even to the three divine subjects (hypostases) the name of God belongs only in so far as they are necessarily in unconditional oneness, in an unbreakable inner unity among themselves. Each of them is the true God, but precisely because each is inseparable from the other two, if one of them could exist separately from the other two, then, obviously, in that separateness He would not be absolute, consequently, He would not be God in the proper sense; but it is precisely such separateness which is impossible. It is true, each divine subject already contains in Himself the whole fullness of Divinity, but that is because He finds in himself the unbreakable union or unity with the other two, since His relation towards them necessarily is internal, essential, for these can be nothing external in Divinity. God the Father, by His very being, cannot be without the Word, by Whom He is expressed, and without the Holy Spirit, Who asserts Him; in the same way the Word and the Spirit cannot be without the first subject, who is that which is expressed by one and asserted by the other, is their common source and primal beginning. Their separateness exists only for our abstracting thought, and, obviously, it would be completely ideal and uninteresting to try to determine whether the name of God belongs to the divine subjects in such abstract separation, once there is no doubt that this abstract separateness does not correspond to the living truth. In actual truth, although each of the three subjects possesses the divine content or the fullness of Divinity, and, consequently, is God; yet—since He finds himself in possession of that fullness which makes Him God, not by Himself exclusively, but only in the unconditional and indivisible inner and essential unity with the other two—this does not assert three Gods, but only one God who realizes Himself in three indivisible subjects (hypostases) of one substance.

We must note that the general idea of the triunity of God, being as much a truth of contemplative reason as of revelation, never encountered any objections from the most profound representatives of contemplative philosophy; on the contrary, they not only admitted of this idea, but regarded it with enthusiasm, as the greatest attainment of apperceptive thought. Only to the externalist, mechanistic intellect does this idea appear incomprehensible, [only to the point of view] which does not consider the inward connection of things in their integral being, does not discern the one in the many and the self-differentiation in the one, but regards all objects in their one-sided abstract exclusiveness, in their separateness, and [only] in their outward interrelation in terms of space and time. The negative attitude of such an intellect towards the idea of the triunity serves only as a confirmation of the truth [of the latter]; for [that negative attitude] is the result of the general inability of mechanistic thinking to conceive the inner truth or meaning (in Greek: λόγος) of things.

The mechanistic approach is one which takes different concepts in their abstract separateness and, consequently, analyses things under some particular, one-sided definition; and then contrasts them one with another in an external manner, or compares them in some similarly one-sided, although more general relation. In contrast to this, organic thinking regards every object in its many-sided wholeness and, consequently, in its internal bond with all the other [objects], which allows one to deduce from within each concept all the others, or to develop a single concept into the fullness of the whole truth. Therefore, one may say that organic thinking is evolutional, one which [unfolds or] develops, while the mechanistic (rationalist) approach only contrasts and combines. It is easy to see that the organic view which perceives or grasps the whole idea of an object, is really that mental or ideal contemplation which was discussed in the previous lecture. If this contemplation is united with clear consciousness [awareness] and is accompanied by reflection, which gives logical determinations to the contemplated truth, then we have that apperceptive thought which characterizes the philosophical creation; if, howeVer, mental contemplation remains in its immediacy and does not clothe its images with logical forms, it appears as that live thought which is characteristic of the people who have not yet emerged from the unreflective experience in their common tribal or national unity; such thought expresses what is called the folk spirit, manifesting itself in folk-creation in art and religion—in the living development of language, in beliefs, myths, ways of life and traditions, in folk-tales, folk-songs, and so forth. [↑↑ to the beginning of the chapter VI ↑↑]

Thus organic thought (in general) in its two aspects belongs on one hand to the true philosophers, and on the other to (the masses of) the people. What concerns those who stand between these two [groups] i.e., the majority of the so-called educated or enlightened people, who are detached, as a result of a greater formal development of mental activity, from the direct people's view of life, but have not reached the integral philosophic reflection, they are confined to the abstract mechanistic thought which breaks up or differentiates (analyses) immediate reality—and this constitutes its significance and merit—but they are not in a position to give it a new, higher, unity and connection; and herein is its limitation.⁷ Certainly it is possible (and in reality it often happens) that persons of this group, influenced in practical life by the ideas of other people's organic thinking in the form of religious beliefs,⁸ in their own theoretical activity stand upon the point of view of abstract and mechanistic reason, as a result of which, of course, there develops a dualism and contradiction in their general world-view, more or less smoothed out or reconciled in an external manner.

Such dualism naturally appeared in Christianity also, when the Christian doctrine, which belongs entirely to the domain of organic thought in both its aspects, became the universally recognized religion not only for the people and the theosophers but for the whole educated class of those days. Persons of that class naturally appeared in all grades of the Christian hierarchy; they sincerely accepted Christian ideas as the creed of faith, but because of their mechanistic mentality, were unable to conceive those ideas in their contemplative verity.

Hence we see that many Fathers of the Church considered the Christian dogmas, especially the fundamental dogma of the Holy Trinity, as something which cannot be comprehended by human reason. To refer to the authority of these Church teachers against the assertion of the dogma of the Holy Trinity [discussed here] in the sense of the contemplative truth would be completely unfounded, since it is obvious that these teachers, being great in their practical wisdom concerning Church matters, or because of their holiness, might have been weak in the domain of the philosophical understanding; and, of course, they might have been apt to regard the limits of their own thought as the limits of the human mind in general. On the other hand, there were many real philosophers among the great Fathers of the Church who not only acknowledged the deep apperceptive truth in the dogma of the Holy Trinity, but even themselves contributed a good deal to the development and the explication of this truth.⁹

However, there is a certain sense in which we must acknowledge the triunity of God as completely inconceivable by [human] reason, and it is as follows: [the divine] triunity, being the actual and substantial [inter-] relation of the living subjects, the inner life of the extant One, cannot be covered, completely expressed, or exhausted by any definitions of the mind: [definitions] which by their very meaning, always express only the general and the formal but not the essential and material aspect of being; all the definitions and categories of reason are only the expressions of the objectivity or comprehensibility of being, but not of its own inner subjective being and life. But it is obvious that such incomprehensibility, derived from the very nature of reason in general as a formal capacity, cannot be ascribed to the limitation of the human reason; for every reason, no matter to whom it may belong, as reason is able to perceive only the logical aspect of what exists, its concept (in Greek: λόγος), or the general relation [of the particular] to the whole, but in no way that [particular] existing [entity] in its direct, unitary, and subjective actuality. Furthermore, from this it is clear that not only the life of the divine being appears in this sense to be incomprehensible, but the life of any creature [in general]; for no being [regarded] as such is exhaustively expressed by its formal objective aspect or by its concept; as an extant, it necessarily has its inner subjective side which constitutes the very act of its existence, in which it is something unconditionally unitary and unique, something inexpressible, and from this point of view it always represents something foreign to reason, something that cannot enter its sphere, something irrational.¹⁰

Thus Divinity in Heaven and a blade of grass on earth are equally inconceivable and equally conceivable by reason: one as well as the other, in its general being, as a concept, constitutes an object of pure thought, is wholly subject to logical definitions, and in this sense is fully intelligible and comprehensible for reason; yet both in their own being, as existant but not as objects of thought, are something greater than a concept, lie beyond the limits of the rational as such; and in that sense, [they] are impermeable or incomprehensible for reason. [↑↑ to the beginning of the chapter VI ↑↑]

Returning to the truth of the triunity, we must say that it is not only fully comprehensible in its logical aspect but that it is based upon the general logical form which defines every actual being; and if this form in application to Divinity seems to be more difficult to comprehend than when it is applied to other objects [of thought], this is not because the divine life in its formal, objective aspect is less subject to logical definitions than anything else (there is no ground for such supposition), but only because the domain of the divine being is not an habitual object of our thoughts. Therefore, for a better grasp of the form of the triunity, it is necessary to apply it to a being that is closer, more familiar to us than the divine being; having understood the general form of triunity in a finite being known to us directly, we can then without difficulty develop also those variations of the form [of triunity] which are conditioned by the peculiarities of that new content to which this form must be applied in defining the absolute being. In this respect, the analogies which point to the formula of triunity in the beings and phenomena of the finite world, have an actual value for the truth of the triunity of God, not as proofs of it—for it is proved or deduced in a purely logical way from the very idea of Divinity—but as examples which facilitate its comprehension. But for this purpose it is not enough to indicate merely the presence of a three-fold character coextant with [its] oneness in some object, as has been habitually done by the theologians who maintain the view-point of the mechanistic thinking (and it should be noted that such external analogies merely outlined the supposed incomprehensibility of this truth); for a real analogy it is necessary that triunity appear as an internal law of the very life of a being. It is necessary, in the first place, that triunity have an essential significance for that object, that it be its essential form, and not an external accidental attribute; and, secondly, it is necessary that in this form triunity follow from the unity and the unity from die trinity, so that these two momenti would be in a logical interconnection, would internally condition each other. Therefore the domain of spiritual being alone is suitable for such analogies, as one that bears the law of its life within itself. I have already shown above the general triunity in the life of the human spirit [taken] in its whole scope; deserving of attention are also other, more particular and definite, analogies in the same domain, [and] of these I shall here mention two. [↑↑ to the beginning of the chapter VI ↑↑]

The first was originally pointed out with full clarity by Leibnitz, and later on played a considerable part in German idealism. Our reason, says Leibnitz, necessarily represents an inner triunity when it reflects upon itself, in self-consciousness. Here it appears as three in one and one in three. Indeed, in reason which [in reflecting upon itself] recognizes or understands itself, the knower (subject) and the cognized (object) are one and the same, namely, one and the same reason; but the very act of cognition and consciousness, the act which unites the cognized with the knower (subject and object) is nothing other than the same reason in action; and, as the first two momenti exist only with the third one and in it, so likewise the third exists only in their presence and in them; so that here we actually have a certain indivisible trinity of one essence.

Another analogy, which is less known although it is still keener, is the one pointed out by St. Augustine in his Confessions. It seems that for some reason it has attracted much less attention than other examples of triunity in various objects, cited in abundance by the same St. Augustine in his book de Trinitare, which belong to the same external and irrelevant analogies of which I spoke above. In the Confessions, St. Augustine states the following: In our spirit we must distinguish its simple immediate being (esse), its knowing (scire), and its willing (velle); these three acts are identical not only by their content, in so far as the extant one knows and wills himself; but their unity goes far deepen each of them contains in itself die other two in their own characteristic quality, and, consequently, each internally contains already the whole fullness of the triune spirit. Indeed, in the first place, I am but not simply am—I am the one who knows and wills (sum sciens a volens); consequently, here my being as such already contains in itself both knowledge and will; secondly, if I know then I know, or am conscious of my being as well as of my will, I know or am conscious of the fact that I am and that I will (scio me esse et velle); thus here also, in knowledge, as such, or under the form (in the attribute) of knowledge, both being and will are contained; thirdly and finally I wish myself yet not simply myself, but myself as existing and knowing, I will my existence and knowledge (volo me esse a scire); consequently, the form of the will also contains in its attribute being and knowledge. In other words, each of these three fundamental acts of the spirit is completed in itself by the other two, and thus becomes individualized into a full triune being. [↑↑ to the beginning of the chapter VI ↑↑]

This consideration approaches the truth of the triunity of God very closely and can serve as a natural transition to the further development of this truth, namely, in regard to the specific individual relations of the three divine subjects to the single essence or idea, which they actualize and in which they themselves become concretely realized.

  ↑↑↑   Lecture Seven

We have seen that, in acknowledging the divine beginning in general as the extant with [its] unconditional content, it is necessary to admit in that principle the presence of three subjects, inseparable [and] of one substance, each of whom in his own way is related to one and the same unconditional essence, in his own way possesses one and the same unconditional content. The first is the unconditional Prime Beginning [First Cause], spirit as self-extant, i.e., the immediately-extant One as the absolute substance. The second is the eternal and adequate manifestation or expression, the essential Word of the first. And the third is the Spirit, returning until himself and thereby completing the circle of the divine being: the Spirit actuated or completed—the Holy Spirit.

Such are these three subjects in their interrelationship. Their distinction, as we have seen, is logically conditioned first of all by the necessary three-fold relation of the extant One to his general essence or content. That relation we were able to present at the start only in a most general logical form (as being-in-itself, being-for-itself; and being-with-itself); but now, when the extant One has already been determined for us as three separate subjects, his three-fold relation to the essence can be represented in a more definite and concrete manner, which, in turn, will lead to a more meaningful definition of the three subjects.

If definite being is a certain relation of the extant One, or the subject [of being] to his essence or content, then the modes of this relationship are the modes of being. Thus for example, at the present moment my state of being as one who is thinking, is nothing other than the relation of my ego to the object, i.e., to the content, or to the objective essence of my thoughts; that relationship which is called thinking, is what constitutes a certain mode [modus] of my being. But if being is a relationship between the extant One as such and its essence, then the latter is not the extant as such, but [is] its 'other one' [antipode]; at the same time it belongs to it as its own inner content: the extant is the positive beginning [even] of its essence, consequently, it is the beginning of its antipode. And the beginning of its antipode is the will [of the extant one]. In truth, that which I posit by my will is mine, in so far as I posit it; and at the same time it is another, [something] different from me; for otherwise I would not have posited it [forth]. Thus, the first mode of being—when essence is not yet separated from the extant, but differs from it only potentially, or in its tendency—when it is and is not, [when] it is its own and its 'other one'—this mode of being is revealed to us as the will. [↑↑ to the beginning of the chapter VII ↑↑]

But positing essence in the primordial act of the will as its own and as its opposite, the extant One distinguishes it (i.e., [His] essence) not only from himself as such, but from his will also. In order that the extant One could desire his opposite, it must, evidently, in a certain way be given to him or in him; it must already exist for him as the 'other', i.e., it must be represented by him or [presented] to him [displayed before Him]. Thus the existence of the extant One is determined not only as the will, but also as representation [perception].

The perceived essence, as the 'other' [of the being], [thus] begets the power of acting upon the perceptor in so far as he is also the one who wills. In this interaction, the object of the will, segregated by perception from [within] the extant One, is united with him again; for in this interaction the extant One finds himself in his essence, and [the] essence in himself. In acting one upon the other, they become sensible one for the other. Thus this interaction, to the third mode of being, is nothing other than sense [feeling].

Thus the extant One wills his essence or content, represents [perceives] it, feels it; hence his very being, which is nothing other than his relation to [His] essence, is defined as the will, perception, [and] feeling. Of what these three modes of being precisely consist (as actual), we know from our immediate consciousness, in so far as our own inner experience is entirely composed of different states of the will, sensation, and perception. Certainly, these data of our inner experience, with all their accidental properties, cannot be directly transferred into the realm of the divine being, but it is not difficult to detach, by logical analysis, those negative elements which are conditioned by the nature of a finite entity, and thus get a positive conception of this three-fold being as it must appear in the unconditionally-extant. [↑↑ to the beginning of the chapter VII ↑↑]

Thus, in regard to the will, we distinguish in ourselves the active or creative will, which acts in the realization of some ideal beginning that does not [directly] change the external actuality (for example, when an artist wishes to give external being to an artistic image which he contemplates inwardly, or when a thinker endeavours to find and determine the truth, or a public man wants to embody the idea of the good in practical life); from that active and extravertive will, which realizes its own inner content in its opposite, we distinguish the passive, externally excited will (or lust), the object which is not formed by it but exists materially and formally outside of it and independently of it, [which] exists not as a universal idea but as a singular fact—while our will [then] endeavors only to identify itself with that fact and, consequently, loses its universal and ideal character and becomes [itself] but an accidental and material fact. It is obvious that the absolutely-extant, which, first, has nothing external to itself, and, second, in which nothing can exist as a separate and accidental fact, since it contains all in itself as [in] the whole in an internal unity—it is obvious, I say, that the absolutely-extant cannot be subject to a passive will; its will, consequently is always immediately creative, or powerful.

In the same manner, in reference to perception as a state or action of the absolutely-extant, the distinctions which exist in our perceptions, have no meaning; distinctions such as that between the actual (objective) perception and the illusory or fantastic one, or between the contemplative (intuitive) perception and the abstract one, or thinking proper (in [terms of] general concepts); and, in this latter case, between the objective or cognitive thinking and the subjective thinking or opinion. These distinctions take place because every finite entity, as a detached portion of the whole, has outside of itself a whole world of other definite entities, a whole world of external being independent of it; this world determines by its action the representations of each separate being, which (the representations) possess an objective value in relation to this defining cause, while outside of it they only represent subjective conditions of consciousness. The action of other entities, received by us through the external, bodily medium—which is itself a complex relationship, independent of our ego, of similar entities—we call external experience, and in that manner differentiate the objective world, which relates to us in this external experience, but is independent of us by its own existence, from the subjective world of our inner states, which have no direct relationship to any other being except our own. Although that distinction has a relative character and represents many transitional steps, yet for us it undoubtedly exists. For the absolute [on the other hand], as having outside of itself no existence independent of it, the differentiation of the objective from the subjective is determined by its own will. In so far as the perceived essence is not only perceived but is also asserted by the will of the extant one as its 'other one', in so far as it gains the meaning of its own actuality, and as such reacts upon the will [of the extant one] as feeling. [↑↑ to the beginning of the chapter VII ↑↑]

In regard to this last, we must also note that for the finite entities there are two kinds of interaction of objective existence (representation) with the subjective one (the will); first, the interaction of the external empirical reality, or of the represented material objects with our material physical subject, i.e., with our animal organism (which in its total life is nothing other than the manifestation of the unconscious material desiring)—this first interaction produces the external or physical sensuality; secondly, the interaction of our inner objectivity, i.e., of our thoughts¹ with our inner subjective being, i.e., with our personal conscious will—through this are produced our inner sensations, or the so-called perturbations of the soul. It is conceivable that in the absolutely-extant One there can be no such distinctions and that, consequently, the inner and external feelings do not exist in Him separately.

If, thus, the three fundamental modes of being of the extant One are defined as the will, perception, and feeling, then in correspondence with this we must have certain definitions for that antipode [of the extant One] to which the extant One is related in these modes of being; i.e., we must get certain new definitions for the essence or the idea (of the whole). [↑↑ to the beginning of the chapter VII ↑↑]

It is obvious that the idea as such must be differentiated according to the differentiations in the being of the extant One, since this being is only the relationship between the extant One and the idea. The idea as the object, or the content, of the extant One is really that which it desires, what it perceives, what it feels or senses. In the first relationship, i.e., as the content of the extant One or as the object of its desire, the idea is called the good; in the second, as the content of its perception, it is called the truth; in the third, as the content of its feeling, it is called beauty. The general meaning of these terms is given to us in our inner consciousness, while their more definite signification will be indicated later on.

In its unity, the extant One already potentially contains the will, perception, and feeling. But in order that those modes of being would really appear as such, i.e., [that they] be singled out of its undifferentiated oneness, it is necessary that the extant One should assert them in their distinction, or to speak more exactly, that it should assert itself in them as distinct, as a result of which they would appear independent [also] in regard to each other. But as these modes of being by their very nature are indissolubly connected, since one cannot wish without perception or feeling, one cannot perceive without the will and feeling, and so on, the extant One cannot manifest those modes of being in their simple separateness so that these would appear first only as the will, secondly, only as perception, thirdly only as feeling; consequently, they cannot become singled out by themselves, and the separateness necessary for their real existence can consist only in the differentiation within the being itself: as, first, the pre-eminently willing, secondly, pre-eminently representing, thirdly, the pre-eminently sensing. That is to say, manifesting itself in its will, the extant One together with it already has perception and feeling, but as momenti subject to the will; furthermore manifesting itself in perception, it has together with it also the will and feeling, subject to perception; finally, asserting itself in feeling, the extant One has in it the will and perception, but as momenti defined by feeling and dependent upon it. In other words, perception, being detached from the will necessarily receives [begets] its own will, and consequently, also feeling (since this last is conditioned by the reaction of the perceived upon the will); by virtue of which the perceiving as such becomes a subject separate and complete. In the same way feeling, detached from the will and perception, necessarily receives its own will and its own perception, as a result of which that which feels, becomes per se an independent and complete subject. Finally, the will, having separated from itself perception and feeling as such, thereby receives its own perception and feeling, and, as the one that wills, is integrated into a separate and whole subject. From what has been said it must be clear that in ascribing to each of the divine subjects a separate will, perception, and feeling, we understand only that each of them is one who wills, one who perceives, and one who feels; i.e., each is an extant subject or hypostasis; while the essence of the will, perception, and feeling of each is one and the same, namely, divine: by virtue of which all three hypostases will one and the same thing, namely, the unconditional good; think one and the same thing, namely, the absolute truth; and so on; and only the relation of these three modes of being are different with them. [↑↑ to the beginning of the chapter VII ↑↑]

Thus, we have three separate subjects of being, to each of which belong all three basic modes of being, but in a different relationship. The first subject perceives and feels only in so far as it wills, which follows necessarily from its primeval meaning. In the second, which has the first before it, predominates the objective element of representation, the defining cause of which is first subject; here the will and sensation are subordinate to representation—it wills and feels only in so far as it perceives. Finally, in the third subject, which has behind it both the immediately-creative being of the first and the ideal being of the second, the distinctive or independent significance belongs only to the real or sensory [mode of] being; it represents and wills only in so far as it senses. The first subject is pure spirit; the second is the mind (in Greek: νοῦς); the third, as the spirit manifested or acting in its 'other one', may, in order to differentiate it from the first, be called the soul.

The primeval spirit is the extant One as the subject of the will and the bearer of the good, and therefore or because of that, is also the subject of the representation of the truth and of the sense of beauty. The mind is the extant One as the subject of perception and the bearer of truth and, in consequence of that, also the subject of the will of the good, and of the sense of beauty. The soul or the manifested spirit is the extant One as the subject of feeling and the bearer of beauty, and only as the result of this, or in so far as, it is also the subject of the will of the good, and of the representation of the truth. [↑↑ to the beginning of the chapter VII ↑↑]

I will illustrate these relationships by an example taken from our human experience. There are people who, having suddenly fallen in love, form on the basis of this love a general idea about the beloved object, and by the force and degree of this love they also define the force and the value of the sense impressions excited by the beloved creature. But there are also those in whom each given creature evokes from the beginning a certain general theoretical idea about itself, and then their will and feelings in regard to this [or that] creature conform to the idea [about it]. Finally, there are also those who are first of all impressed by the real aspect of the object, and then the effects or emotional states aroused in them determine their mental and moral attitude towards the object. The first in the beginning love or desire, and only afterwards, according to their love or desire, form perceptions and feel; the second in the beginning form perceptions, and only after that deside and feel; the third, first of all feel, and then form perceptions and desire according to [their] feelings. The first are the men of the spiritual type, the second are the men of reason, the third—the men of the soul.

To the three divine subjects (and to the three modes of being) correspond, as we have seen, the three images of essence, or the three ideas, each of which represents the predominant object or content of one of the three subjects. Two questions arise here. First, what do these three ideas really contain, i.e., what is desired as the good, what is perceived as the truth, and what is sensed as beauty. And then, in what relationship are these three ideas to the general definition of the divine essence [when it is regarded] as on; i.e., to its definition as love? [↑↑ to the beginning of the chapter VII ↑↑]

What is desired, perceived, and felt by the absolutely-extant One can only be the all; thus, that which is contained in the good, truth and beauty, as the ideas of the absolute, is one and the same all [totality], and the difference between them is not a difference in the contained (material [difference]), but only a difference in the image of the content (formal [difference]). The absolute wills as the good the same thing that it represents as the truth and feels as beauty, namely, all. But all can be the object of the absolutely-extant One only in its inner unity and integrity. Thus the good, the truth, and beauty are the different images or species of unity, under which for the absolute appears its content, or all—or the three different aspects of it, through which the absolutely extant One reduces all to unity. But generally speaking, every inner unity, every unification of the many—the unification emerging from within—is love (in that broad sense in which this conception coincides with the conception of accord, harmony, and peace, or of the world, cosmos). In that sense goodness, truth, and beauty appear only as different images of love. But these three ideas and the three modes of being corresponding to them, do not represent the inner unity in the same degree. Obviously, this unity appears at its strongest and, so to speak, in a more innermost way, (more intimately, in the will, as the good; for in the act of willing, the object of the will is not yet segregated from the subject even ideally: it remains in a substantial unity with it. Therefore if inner unity in general is denoted by the term love, then the absolute is defined by this term especially in that sphere in which inner unity appears as the primordial and uninterruptable [inviolate], i.e., in the sphere of the will and the good. The will of the good is love in its inner essence, of the primordial source of love. The good is the unity of all or of everyone, that is to say, love as the desired, i.e., as the beloved; consequently, here we have love in a special and pre-eminent sense as the idea of ideas: this is the essential unity. The truth is the same love, i.e., the unity of all, but as objectively perceived: this is the ideal unity. Finally, beauty is the same love (i.e., the unity of all), but as manifested or sensible: that is the real unity. In other words, the good is unity in its positive possibility, [in its] force or power (according to which the divine will also may be denoted as the immediately-creative, or mighty, beginning); while truth represents the same unity as the necessary, and beauty—unity as the real. In order to express the relationship of those terms in a few words we may say that the absolute realiTes the good through the truth in beauty. The three ideas, or the three universal unities, representing but different aspects or conditions of one and the same [idea], compose together in their interpenetration a new concrete unity, which represents the complete realization of the divine content, the wholeness of the absolute essence, the realization of God as the all-One, 'in whom dwelleth the whole fullness of God bodily'. [↑↑ to the beginning of the chapter VII ↑↑]

In this its full definition, the divine beginning appears to us in Christianity. Here, finally, we enter upon the ground of the Christian revelation proper.

In following the course of the development of the religious consciousness up to the advent of Christianity, I pointed out the main phases of that development; in the first place, pessimism and ascetism (a negative attitude towards nature and life), developed in Buddhism with extraordinary consecutiveness; then idealism (the acknowledgment of another, ideal world beyond the limits of this reality) which reaches full clarity in the mystical perceptions of Plato; then monotheism (the acknowledgment, beyond the boundaries of the visible reality, not only of the realm of ideas but also of the unconditional beginning as the positive subject, or the ego), as the characteristic principle of the religious consciousness in Judaism; finally, the last definition of the divine beginning in the pre-Christian religious consciousness—the definition of it as the triune God, which we find in the Alexandrian [school of] theosophy, and which was founded upon the consciousness of the relationship of God as the existant one to his universal content or substance.

All these phases of religious consciousness are contained in Christianity, became parts of it. [↑↑ to the beginning of the chapter VII ↑↑]

In the first place, Christianity necessarily contains the ascetic principle; it is derived from the recognition, expressed by the Apostle, St. John, that 'the whole world lies in evil'. Secondly, a necessary element in Christianity is idealism—the acknowledgment of another, ideal cosmos, the acknowledgment of the Kingdom of Heaven beyond the limits of the earthly world. Furthermore, Christianity is essentially monotheistic. Finally, the doctrine of the triune God has not only entered into the composition of Christianity, but it is only in Christianity that the teaching became a general and open [manifest] religious dogma.

All these phases of [the] development [of religious thought] thus constitute parts of Christianity; but it is equally evident that neither one of them, nor all of them together, represent the special characteristic content of Christianity. If Christianity were only a combination of those elements, then it would not have represented any new world power; it would have been only an eclectic system of a type which is often found in schools but never works in life, which does not perform any world-wide historical upheaval, does not destroy one world and build another. [↑↑ to the beginning of the chapter VII ↑↑]

Christianity has its own content, independent of all these elements, which enter it; and this content is singularly and exclusively Christ. In Christianity as such we find Christ, and only Christ—here is a truth many times expressed but not very well assimilated.

At the present time in the Christian world, especially in the Protestant world, one meets people who call themselves Christians but maintain that the substance of Christianity is not in the person of Christ, but rather in His teaching. They say: We are Christians because we accept the teaching of Christ. But in what does the teaching of Christ consist? If we take the moral teaching (and this is precisely what they have in mind in this case) developed in the Gospel and all reduced to the rule, 'love thy neighbour as thyself', then it is necessary to admit that this moral rule does not represent the peculiarity of Christianity. Much earlier than Christianity, the Hindu religious teaching—love and compassion, and not only towards men, but towards everything living—was preached in Brahmanism and Buddhism. [↑↑ to the beginning of the chapter VII ↑↑]

In the same way it is impossible to assume as the characteristic content of Christianity the teaching of Christ about God as the Father, concerning God as a being pre-eminently loving and gracious; for neither is this doctrine specifically Christian (not to mention the fact that the name 'father' was always applied to the supreme deities of all religions—in one of them, namely, the Persian, we find the conception of the supreme God not only as a father, but even as a father full of graciousness and loving to all).

If we consider the whole theoretical and the whole moral teaching of Christ, which we find in the Gospel, then the only new doctrine specifically different from all other religions is the teaching of Christ about Himself, the reference to Himself as to the living, incarnate truth 'I am the way, the Truth and the life: he who believeth on Me shall have life eternal'.

Thus, if one is to find the characteristic content of Christianity in the teachings of Christ, even here one must admit that this content means Christ Himself.

What, then, ought we to think [about Him], what is presented to our mind under the name of Christ as the Life and the Truth? [↑↑ to the beginning of the chapter VII ↑↑]

The eternal God eternally realizes Himself by realizing His content, i.e., by realizing all. This 'all', in opposition to the living God as the unconditionally-one, is a plurality; but a plurality as the content of the unconditionally-one, as overcome by the one, as reduced to unity.

Plurality, reduced to unity, is the whole. The real whole is a living organism. God as the extant One, which has realized its content, as one which contains in itself all plurality, is a living organism.

We have already seen that 'all', as the content of the unconditional beginning cannot be a mere sum of separate indifferent beings, that each of these beings represents its particular idea expressed in an harmonious relationship towards all else, and that, consequently, each is a necessary organ of the whole. [↑↑ to the beginning of the chapter VII ↑↑]

It is on this basis that we may say that 'all' as the content of the unconditional, or that God as [He who has] realized His content, is an organism.

There is no reason for limiting the conception of an organism solely to material organisms—we may speak of the spiritual organism as we speak of the national organism, of the organism of mankind, and, therefore, we may speak of the divine organism. The concept of an organism does not by itself exclude such an expansion [of it] since we call an organism anything that is composed of a multitude of elements which are not indifferent to the whole or towards one another, but are definitely necessary for the whole as well as for one another, in so far as each represents its definite content, and, consequently, has its own special significance in relationship to all others.

The elements of the divine organism of themselves exhaust the fullness of being; in this sense it is the universal organism. But not only does that not prevent this universal organism from being at the same time perfectly individual, but on the contrary, with logical necessity demands [of it] such individuality. [↑↑ to the beginning of the chapter VII ↑↑]

We call (relatively) universal that which contains in itself a greater quantity of different particular elements than others [do]. It is evident that the more elements there are in an organism, the more particular entities enter into its composition, the greater the number of combinations in which each of these elements finds itself, and the more each of them is conditioned by the others; and as a result of this, the more indissoluble, the stronger is the connection of all these elements [among themselves], the stronger and the more unbreakable is the unity of the whole organism.

It is evident, furthermore, that the more elements in the organism and, consequently, the greater the number of combinations into which they enter among themselves—the less possible is such a combination of elements in another being, in another organism—the more this organism has of peculiarity, originality.

Furthermore, since every relationship and every combining [coordination] is necessarily at the same time a distinction [differentiation], then the more of these elements there are in an organism, the more distinctions it represents, in its unity the more it is distinctive from all others. In other words, the greater the plurality of elements which the principle of unity of this organism reduces to itself, the more this same principle of unity asserts itself; and, consequently, once more, the more individual is that organism. Thus, from this point of view also, we come to the previously stated proposition, that the universality of a being is in direct relationship to its individuality: the more universal it is, the more individual it is; and therefore, the absolutely universal is the absolutely individual. [↑↑ to the beginning of the chapter VII ↑↑]

Thus the universal organism, which expresses the unconditional content of the divine beginning, is pre-eminently a peculiar individual being. This individual being, or the realized expression of the unconditionally-extant God, is Christ.

In every organism we necessarily have two unities; on one hand, the unity of the active beginning which reduces the plurality of the elements to itself as to one; on the other hand, that plurality as reduced to unity, as the definite image of this beginning. We have the producing unity and the produced one, or unity as the beginning (in itself) and unity in phenomena. [↑↑ to the beginning of the chapter VII ↑↑]

In the divine organism of Christ, the acting, unifying beginning, the beginning which expresses the unity of the unconditionally-extant one, obviously is the Word or Logos. The unity of the second kind, the produced unity, in Christian theosophy bears the name of Sophia. If in the absolute we differentiate in general the absolute as such, i.e., as the unconditionally-extant One, from its content, essence or idea, then we find the direct expression of the first in the Logos, and of the second in Sophia, which is thus the expressed, realized idea. And as the extant One, differing from its own idea is at the same time one with it, so Logos, too, differing from Sophia, is eternally connected with her. Sophia is God's body, the matter of Divinity,² permeated with the beginning of divine unity. Christ, who realized that unity in Himself or is the bearer of it, as the integral divine organism—universal and at the same time individual—is both Logos and Sophia.

To speak about Sophia as an essential element of Divinity does not mean, from the Christian point of view, to introduce new gods. The thought of Sophia was always present in Christianity; more than that, it existed even before Christianity. There is in the Old Testament a whole Book ascribed to Solomon which bears the title of Sophia. This book is not canonical, but, as is known, even in the canonical book of the 'Proverbs of Solomon' we find the development of this idea of Sophia (under the corresponding Hebrew name of Hohma). 'Wisdom', it is stated here, 'existed before the creation of the world' (i.e., of the natural world); 'God possessed her in the beginning of His ways', i.e., it is the idea which God had before Him in His [work of] creation and which He, consequently, realizes. We find this term in the New Testament as well, now in a direct relation to Christ (in St. Paul). [↑↑ to the beginning of the chapter VII ↑↑]

The representation of God as the integral being, as the universal organism, which presupposes a plurality of essential elements comprising this organism—this representation may seem to violate the absoluteness of Divinity, to bring Nature into God. But it is precisely in order that God be unconditionally distinguished from our world, from our Nature, from this visible reality, that it is necessary to acknowledge in Him His particular eternal nature. His special eternal world. Otherwise our idea of Divinity will be poorer, more abstract, than our conception of the visible world.

The negative course in the [evolution of] religious consciousness was always such that Divinity was first, so to speak, cleared of all actual definition, was reduced to a pure abstraction, and then religious consciousness easily dispensed with this abstract Divinity and passed into irreligious consciousness, into atheism.

If we do not acknowledge in Divinity the whole fullness of reality, and consequently, of necessity, plurality also, then, inevitably, the positive significance [it has] passes to the plurality and to the reality of this world. Then Divinity retains only a negative significance and little by little is denied; for if there is no other reality, [if] the unconditional one [does not exist], [and if there is no] other plurality, [no] other fullness of being, then our present reality is the only one; and then Divinity is left without any positive content: it is either merged with this world, with this nature—this world, this nature are acknowledged [then] as the direct, immediate content of Divinity [so that] we pass into a naturalistic pantheism, where this finite nature is all, and God is an empty word only; or, and this is more logical, Divinity, as an empty abstraction, is simply denied, and consciousness appears [to be] frankly atheistic. [↑↑ to the beginning of the chapter VII ↑↑]

Thus to God, as the integral being, together with unity belongs plurality—the plurality of substantial ideas, i.e., of potencies or forces with definite special content.

These forces, each possessing its own particular definite content, [and] related in a different manner to the content of the others, necessarily represent different secondary wholes or spheres. They all constitute one divine world, but this world is necessarily differentiated into a plurality of spheres.

If the divine whole is composed of essential elements, of living forces with definite individual content, then these entities must represent [certain] fundamental traits, which necessarily belong to every individual being—certain traits of a psychical character, common to all living forces.

If each of them realizes a definite content or idea, and if the force realizing them can, as we have seen, be related to a definite content or idea in three ways, i.e., can possess this content as an object of the will, can enclose it in itself as the desired, then represent it, and, finally, feel it; if it [the force] can be related to it [to the content] substantially, ideally, and really or sensuously [sensorially?]: then it is easy to see that the sensory elements of the divine whole must differ among themselves according to the predominance of this or that relationship: if the will predominates, [it is the sphere of] the moral principle; if perception [predominates], it is that of the theoretical principle; or, finally, [in the case of] feeling, the principle of aesthetics. [↑↑ to the beginning of the chapter VII ↑↑]

Thus we have three classes of the living forces which form three spheres of the divine realm.

The individual forces of the first class, in which the principle of the will predominates, may be called pure spirits; the forces of the second class may be called the minds; those of the third class, the souls.

Thus the divine world is composed of three main spheres: the sphere of pure spirits, the sphere of the minds, and the sphere of the souls. These spheres are [united] in a close and unbreakable bond among themselves, represent complete inner unity or solidarity, for each among them fulfils the other, each is necessary to the other, is affirmed by the other. Each separate force and each sphere posits as its object, as its goal, all the others; they form the content of its life: and each separate force and separate sphere, likewise, is the goal and object of all the others, for it possesses its own special property which they lack; and thus a single, unbreakable bond of love unites all the countless elements which form the divine world. [↑↑ to the beginning of the chapter VII ↑↑]

The reality of this world, which is necessarily infinitely richer than our visible world, the reality of this divine world, obviously, can be completely accessible only to him who really belongs to that world. But since the natural world also is necessarily in close union with this divine world (what this bond is, we shall see further on), since there is not and cannot be between them any impassable abyss, the separate rays and reflections of the divine world must penetrate also into our reality and [must] constitute all the ideal content, all the beauty and truth, we find in it. And man, as belonging to both worlds, by an act of mental contemplation can and must touch the divine world, and even while still in the world of struggle and confused disquietude [can and must] enter into communion with the clear images from the kingdom of glory and eternal beauty. In particular, this positive although incomplete knowledge of, or penetration into, the reality of the divine world is open to creation in poetry. Every true poet must necessarily penetrate into 'the fatherland of the flame and the word' in order to gather from there the prototypes of his creations as well as inner enlightenment, which is called inspiration, and by means of which our natural reality finds sounds and colours for the embodiment of the ideal types, as one of the poets says:

      Mine dark sight became enlightened,
      And I could see the world unseen;
      Mine ear can hear since then
      What is inaudible to others.

      All is alive with sound, athrob with light,
      With love all nature breathes —
      And all the worlds are of one Beginning.

  ↑↑↑   Lecture Eight

The eternal or divine world, which was the subject of my last lecture, is not a puzzle for the mind. That world, as the ideal fullness of all as well as the realization of the good, truth, and beauty, presents itself to the mind as that which by itself ought to be, as the normal. That world as the unconditional norm is logically necessary for the mind, and if the mind by itself cannot certify to us the factual existence of that world, then it is only because the mind by its nature, in general, is not an organ of cognition of any factual reality. Factual reality, obviously, can be cognated only through actual experience; whereas the ideal necessity of the divine world and of Christ, as the unconditionally-universal and at the same time and because of that—the unconditionally-individual centre of this world, in possession of its whole fullness—this ideal necessity is evident to the contemplative reason, which can find that unconditional measure [norm] in relation to which or in comparison with which it recognizes the given natural world, our reality, as something conditional, abnormal, and transitory, only in the eternal sphere.

Thus, not the eternal divine world, but on the contrary, our nature, our factually given world, constitutes a puzzle for the mind; the explanation of this factually-indubitable, but for reason, obscure, reality, constitutes its task. [↑↑ to the beginning of the chapter VIII ↑↑]

This task is, thus, the deduction of the conditional from the unconditional; the deduction of what by itself ought not to be from the unconditional norm, the deduction of the accidental reality from the absolute idea, of the natural world of phenomena from the world of the divine essence.

This deduction would he an impossible task if between the two opposite terms, one of which must be deduced from the other, i.e., from its opposite, there would not be a bond, belonging equally to one and to the other sphere, and therefore serving as a transition between them. This uniting link between the divine and natural worlds is man.

Man combines in himself all possible opposites which can all be reduced to one great polarity between the unconditional and the conditional, between the absolute and eternal essence and the transitory phenomenon or appearance. Man is at once divinity and nothingness. [↑↑ to the beginning of the chapter VIII ↑↑]

There is no need to dwell on the assertion of this undoubted contrast in man, because it has of long represented the common theme of poets as well as of psychologists and moralists.

Our task is not the description of man, but the pointing out of his significance in the general connection of the truly-extant.

In the past lecture I spoke about the necessity of distinguishing two unities in the divine being: the acting or producing one, the unity of the divine creation of the Word (Logos); and the unity produced, realized. As in a particular organism of the natural world we distinguish the active unity, the beginning [element] which produces and supports its organic wholeness—the beginning which comprises the living and active soul of this organism—and then also the unity of that which is produced and realized by that soul, the unity of the organic body.

If in the divine being, in Christ, the first or the producing unity is properly the Divinity—God, as the acting force, or Logos—and if, thus, in this first unity we have Christ as the divine being proper; then the second unity, the produced one, to which we have given the mystical name of Sophia, is the principle of humanity, is the ideal or normal man. And Christ, as participant in this unity of the human being, is a man, or to use the expression of the Holy Scripture, the second Adam. [↑↑ to the beginning of the chapter VIII ↑↑]

Thus, Sophia is the ideal or perfect humanity, eternally contained in the integral divine being Christ. Since it is indubitable that God, in order to exist actually and really must manifest Himself, His being, i.e., must act in the 'other' [in that which is not He], the existence of this 'other' [this antipode] is thereby established as necessary; and, since in speaking of God we cannot have in mind any form of time, because all that is said about God presumes eternity, then the existence of this 'other', in relation to which God is manifested, must necessarily be acknowledged as eternal. This 'other' is not unconditionally alien to God (that is unthinkable), but is [rather] His own expression or manifestation; and it is in regard to this antipode of His that God is called the Word.

But this unfolding or the inner revelation of Divinity, and consequently also the distinction of God as Logos from God as the primordial substance for the Father, this revelation and this distinction necessarily presupposes that in which Divinity is revealed, or in which it acts, and which in the first (in the Father) exists substantially, or in a latent form, and is manifested through the second (i.e., through Logos). [↑↑ to the beginning of the chapter VIII ↑↑]

Consequently, in order that God exist eternally as Logos, or as the active God., it is necessary to assume the eternal existence Of real elements which receive [as objects of it] the divine action; it is necessary to assume the existence of the world as subject to divine action, as giving in itself place to divine unity. The proper unity of that world, i.e., the produced unity—the world's centre and at the same time the circumference of Divinity—is humanity. Every actuality presupposes action, and every action presupposes a real object of [that] action:—a subject which receives that action; consequently, the actuality of God, based upon the action of God, presupposes a subject receiving this action, presupposes man—and presupposes him eternally, since the action of God is eternal. This [proposition] may not be countered [with a statement] that God already has such an eternal object for [His] action, in Logos; for Logos is the same God made manifest, and manifestation presupposes that 'other' for which or in relation to which God is manifested, i.e., presupposes man.

It is obvious that in speaking of the eternity of man or mankind, we do not understand the natural man, or man as a phenomenon—this would be a contradiction of terms as well as of the empirical data of science.

Science, namely, geology, shows that our natural or earthly man ap-peared on earth at a definite period of time, as the final link of the organic development of a terrestrial globe. But man as an empirical phenomenon presupposes man as a mentally conceivable being, and it is of him that we are speaking. But, on the other hand, in speaking of the essential and eternal man, we do not mean by that term either the conception of man as human genus, or mankind as a collective name. For those who accept the given actuality of nature as something unconditional and the only positive and real [universe]—for those, of course, all that is not this given reality, can only be a general conception or an abstraction. When they speak about an actual man, they understand this or that individual man, who exists in a definite space and time as a physical material organism. Beyond this, man for them is only an abstraction, and mankind is only a collective name. Such is the viewpoint of empirical realism; we will not argue against it, but rather will attempt to develop it with full logical consistency, which will reveal its insolvency better than anything else, as we shall presently see. Admitting that only a single real fact has true existence, we, being logically consistent, cannot acknowledge even a separate individual man to be a real actual being; even he, from this point of view, must be regarded only as an abstraction. Indeed, let us take a definite human specimen: what do we find in it as in an [empirical] reality? First of all it is a physical organism; but every physical organism is an aggregate of a plurality of organic elements—[i.e., it] is a group in space. Our body consists of a great many organs and tissues, which can all be reduced to a varied association of minutest organic elements, the so-called cells, and from the empirical point of view there is no ground for regarding this association as a real rather than merely a collective unit. The unity of the physical organism, i.e., of all this multiplicity of elements appears empirically only as a connection, as a relationship, but not as a real unit. [↑↑ to the beginning of the chapter VIII ↑↑]

Thus, if we find the organism to be empirically an aggregate of a multitude of elementary entities, then a specific physical man from this point of view cannot be called a real indivisible [unit] or a specimen in the proper sense [of the word]; with as much foundation we could acknowledge each separate organ as a real unit, and with far more reason—a separate organic element, the cell. But even here one may not stop, for the cell also is a complex being; from the standpoint of empirical reality it is but a physico-chemical association of material particles, i.e., in the end, only an association of a great many homogeneous atoms. But the atom, as a material [unit] and, consequently, a unit of extension [space] (and only in this sense may atoms be acknowledged on the part of empirical realism) cannot be ultimately indivisible; matter as such is divisible to infinity, and, consequently, the atom is only a conditional [conventional] unit of division and nothing more. Thus, not only a separate man as an organic specimen, but even the very last elements of which he is composed, do not represent any real unit; and it appears to be absolutely impossible to find such [a unit] in external reality in general. [↑↑ to the beginning of the chapter VIII ↑↑]

But perhaps the real unity of the human specimen, not found in his physical being, in [him as] an external phenomenon, is to be found in his psychical being—in [man as] an internal phenomenon? But here, too, what do we find from the empirical point of view?

We find, from this point of view, a succession of separate states in the life of man's soul—a series of thoughts, desires, and feelings. It is true, this series is connected in self-consciousness by the fact that all these conditions relate to one ego; but this very reference of different conditions to a single psychic focus, which we call I, is, from the empirical point of view, only one psychical phenomenon among others. The consciousness of oneself is only one of the acts of the psychical life—the I of which we are aware is a result produced or conditioned by a long series of processes, but not a real being. The I, as a mere act of self-consciousness, by itself is deprived of all content, is but a bright point in the confined stream of psychic states.

As in the physical organism, because of the continuous changes of matter, there cannot be any real identity of that organism at two different moments of time (as is known, any human body was materially quite different a month ago from what it is at present; in the latter there may not be a single material particle left from the first); so also in the psychical life of man [regarded] as a phenomenon, every act represents something new: every thought, every sensation is a new phenomenon, bound with all the rest of his psychic content solely by the laws of association. From this point of view we do not find [any] unconditional unity—any real unit—either in the external, physical, or in the inner, psychical organism of man. [↑↑ to the beginning of the chapter VIII ↑↑]

Man, i.e., this separate specimen, appears here [from the empirical point of view] on one hand as an aggregate of an infinite number of elements, continuously changing their material composition and retaining only a formal, abstract unity; and on the other hand, as a series of psychical states following one after another according to an external, accidental association, and connected among themselves only through a formal, devoid of content, and even not contiguous, act of reflection or self-consciousness, expressed in our I; and this I itself is different in each separate act of one's awareness of oneself (when I say I at the present moment, and when I say later on the same thing in the following moments of time, these are different acts or states which do not represent any real unity [among themselves]). If thus, as a phenomenon, the individual man represents in his physical aspect only a spatial group of elements, and in the psychical sense, only a time series of separate states or events: then, from this point of view, not only man in general, or mankind, but even a separate human specimen, is only an abstraction, and not a real unit. As it has been pointed out, it is impossible to find any real unit from this point of view in general. For, as every material element entering into the composition of the organism can, as extended in space, be divided ad infinitum; similarly, every psychical event, occurring in a definite time, can be divided ad infinitum into infinitely short moments of time. There is no ultimate unit in either case: all assumed units prove to be conditional and arbitrary. But if there are no real units, then there is no real whole; if there are no really definite parts, then there is no actual whole. The result, of this point of view, is a complete nothingness, the negation of all reality—a result which, obviously, proves the inadequacy of the point of view itself. If, in fact, empirical realism which acknowledges the given phenomenon as the sole reality, cannot find any ground for any ultimate reality, for any real units; then we have the right to conclude that these real units, without which nothing can exist, have their own independent essence beyond the limits of the given phenomena, and that the 14tter are only the manifestations of the true essences and not [the essences] themselves.

Thus, we must acknowledge that full actuality belongs to the ideal beings, which are not given in the direct external experience—[that full actuality belongs] to the beings which themselves are neither the elements materially existing in our space, nor the events (or states) psychically taking place in time. [↑↑ to the beginning of the chapter VIII ↑↑]

From this point of view, when we speak of man, we have no need or right to limit man to the data of visible reality; we speak of the ideal man, [who is] nevertheless altogether essential and real—much more, incommensurably more essential and real than the visible manifestation of human beings. There is an unlimited wealth of forces and content in us which arc hidden behind the threshold of our present consciousness; only a certain part of those forces or of that content crosses the threshold of [and into] our consciousness at a time, never exhausting the whole.

`It is in ourselves', an ancient poet states, 'and not in the stars of heaven, nor in the depths of Tartarus, that the eternal powers of the whole universe reside'. [↑↑ to the beginning of the chapter VIII ↑↑]

If a man as a phenomenon is a transitory fact, then as essence he is necessarily eternal and all-embracing; what is, then, the ideal man? In order to be actual he must he one and [at the same time] many; consequently, he is not only the universal general essence of all human specimens, abstracted from them; he is a universal, and at the same time, an individual being, containing in himself all these specimens actually. Every one of us, every human being, is essentially and actually rooted, and takes part, in the universal or absolute man.

As the divine forces comprise a single, whole, unconditionally universal and unconditionally individual, organism of the living Logos, so all human elements form a similarly whole simultaneously universal and individual organism—the necessary realization and receptory [receptacle] of the first—the pan-human organism, as the eternal body of God and the eternal soul of the world. As this latter organism, that is to say, Sophia, in its eternal being necessarily consists of a multiplicity of elements, of which it is the real unity: it follows that each of the elements, as a necessary new part of eternal Godmanhood, must be acknowledged eternal in the absolute, or the ideal, order. [↑↑ to the beginning of the chapter VIII ↑↑]

Thus, when we speak of the eternity of mankind, we implicitly understand the eternity of each separate human being.¹ Without this eternity [of its constituent parts], mankind itself would be illusory.

Only in the recognition [of the truth] that every man is rooted in his deepest essence in the eternal divine world, that he is not only a visible phenomenon, i.e., a series of events and a group of facts, but an eternal and particular being, a necessary and irreplaceable link in the absolute whole, only with the recognition of that [truth], I say, is it possible to admit rationally of the two great truths unconditionally necessary not only for theology, i.e., for religious knowledge, but for human life in general: I mean the truths of human freedom and human immortality. [↑↑ to the beginning of the chapter VIII ↑↑]

To begin with the latter: it is perfectly obvious that if man be regarded as a being produced in time, created at a certain moment, and non-existent prior to his physical birth, then man is really reduced to his phenomenal appearance, to his manifested existence, which does start with the physical birth only. But such existence also ends with the physical death. That which appeared in time must also disappear in time; an infinite existence after death is in no way logically compatible with nothingness before birth.

As a natural being, as a phenomenon, man exists only in between physical birth and physical death. To admit that he exists after physical death is possible only with the admission that he is not merely an entity living in the natural world—merely a phenomenon—but that, besides, he is an eternal, apperceptive essence. But in such a case it is logically necessary to recognize that he exists not only after death, but also before birth, because an apperceptive essence, by its very meaning, is not subject to the form of our [the empirical] time, which is only a phenomenal form.

Passing to the second truth mentioned above, the freedom of man, it is easy to see that by regarding man as a being created in time, [created] out of nothing, and, consequently, as a sort of chance creation of God—for it is [thereby] assumed that God can exist without man, and that He really had so existed before the creation of man—by regarding man, I repeat, as determined unconditionally by the peremptory will of God and, therefore, in relation to God a creature absolutely passive, we decidedly leave no room for his freedom. [↑↑ to the beginning of the chapter VIII ↑↑]

How the problem of freedom can be solved from the point of view which regards man as eternal—i.e., the point of view of Godmanhood—we shall try to demonstrate in the next lecture.

  ↑↑↑   Lecture Nine

The religious consciousness, starting with the divine, all-perfect beginning, finds the actual natural world out of accord with this beginning, i.e., [finds it] imperfect or not normal, and because of that, mysterious and incomprehensible. It appears to be something untrue, something that ought not to be, and therefore it is necessary to explain it from [the point of view of] the true and that which ought to be [the norm], i.e., [to deduce it] from the other, the supernatural or divine world, which is revealed to the religious consciousness as its positive content. The middle term or the uniting link through the medium of which the natural being is explained or deduced from the divine being is, as we know, mankind [understood] as a concrete unity of all beginnings.

First of all, we have to determine what, precisely, is abnormal or imperfect in the natural world, what in it requires explanation or justification from the religious point of view. [↑↑ to the beginning of the chapter IX ↑↑]

It is obvious that the constant forms of natural phenomena, their harmonious relationships and their immutable laws, the whole ideal content of this world, which presents itself to objective contemplation and study—all this contains nothing abnormal or imperfect, nothing that would be in contradiction or contrast to the character of the divine world. With a purely theoretical approach to nature, as to something merely contemplated and cognized, the mind cannot find anything that would evoke condemnation or require eulogy; regarding nature in its general forms and laws, it can discern in the phenomena of nature only a clear reflection of eternal ideas. In regarding the actuality of nature ideally, i.e., contemplating it in its general aspect, in its idea, we thereby absolve it of everything accidental and transitory, and as the poet says: 'gaze directly from within time into eternity, and see the flame of the universal sun'.

      Immovable upon fiery roses,
      Fumes the living altar of universal creation;
      As in creative reveries, amidst the fume
      Vibrates all power, all eternity comes in a dream.

      And all that rushes over the chasms of ether,
      And every ray corporeal or incorporeal
      Is only thy reflection, 0 sun of the world,
      And only a dream, only a passing dream.

And, in truth, in ideal contemplation (as well as in purely scientific knowledge) every individual separateness, every particularity of a real phenomenon, is only 'a passing dream', only an indifferent and transitory case or example of the universal and the one; what matters here is not the real existence of the object but its ideal content, which is something in itself perfect and fully clear to the mind. But if in pure contemplation and in theory, (in its objective aspect) the individual existence is deprived in its separateness of all self-sustained significance, then in practical life, for our active will, (in its subjective aspect) this separate egoistic existence of the individual is of primary significance, is what really matter; here we have to take it into considera tion, at any rate; and if this egoistic existence is a dream, it is a heavy and torturous dream, from the spell of which we are not able to free ourselves—a dream that oppresses us, regardless of our awareness of the fact that it is illusory (if such an awareness does appear). It is this heavy and torturous dream of the separate egoistic existence, and not the objective character of nature in its general forms, what from the religious point of view is mysterious, what requires explanation. [↑↑ to the beginning of the chapter IX ↑↑]

In the light of the ideal contemplation we do not feel and do not assert ourselves in our separateness: here the tormenting flame of our personal will is extinguished, and we recognize our essential unity with all else. But such an ideal state lasts in us but a moment; outside of these bright moments, in the course of all the rest of our life, our ideal unity with everything else appears to us illusory, unessential; as actual reality in our experience we acknowledge only our own separate, particular I: we are locked in our own selves, impermeable for the 'other', and, therefore, the 'other' is also impermeable for us. Admitting in general, in theory, that all else has the same inner subjective being as we have, [that it also] exists for itself, we nevertheless completely forget that in actual practical relations, and here all other beings appear to us not as living persons but as empty masks.

It is this abnormal attitude towards all [around us], this exclusive self-assertion or egoism, all-powerful in practical life even if it is rejected in theory—this contra-position of self to all others and the practical negation of these others—it is this which constitutes the fundamental evil of our nature. And, since it is common to all living creatures—since every being in nature, every animal, every insect, and every blade of grass, in its own personal being detaches itself from all else, endeavours to be the whole in itself by absorbing or by repulsing the others (and that is the origin of the external material being)—there-fore, evil is the general property of all nature. Being on one hand, namely, in its ideal content or in its objective forms and laws, but a reflection of the all-one idea, nature appears, on the other hand—namely, in its real, segregated, and disjunct existence—as something alien and inimical to that idea, as something that ought not to be, something evil, and evil in a double sense: for if egoism, i.e., the striving to establish one's exclusive ego in place of all [else], or to annul all by oneself, is evil par excellence (die moral evil)—then the fatal impossibility of actual realization of egoism, i.e., the impossibility of being all while remaining in one's own exclusiveness, is the root of suffering, in relation to which all other sufferings are particular cases of the general law. Indeed, the common basis of all suffering, both moral and physical, is reducible to the dependence of the subject upon something external to it, some external fact which coercively binds and oppresses it; but such an external dependence would be obviously impossible if the given subject was in an inner and actual unity with all else, if it sensed [found] itself in all: then nothing would be completely foreign or external to it, nothing could coercively limit or oppress it; sensing itself in accord with all else, it would feel the action of all [around it] upon itself also as concordant with its own will, as agreeable to itself; and, consequently, it would not be able to experience [any] actual suffering. [↑↑ to the beginning of the chapter IX ↑↑]

It will be clear from what has been said that evil and suffering have the inner, subjective significance; they exist in us and for us, i.e., in every being and for it. They are the states of individual being; namely, evil is an exerted condition of his will which asserts itself exclusively and denies all else, and suffering is the necessary reaction of the other one to that will, a reaction to which the self-asserting being is subjected involuntarily and inevitably, and which it feels as suffering. Thus suffering, which constitutes one of the characteristic marks of natural being, appears to be a necessary result of moral evil.

We have seen that the actual being of the natural world is something that ought not to be, or something abnormal, in so far as it is contraposed to the being of the divine world (as the unconditional norm); but this contraposition and, consequently, evil itself is, as it has been demonstrated, only a condition of individual beings and their certain relationship to one another (namely, a negative relationship), but not any independent essence or separate principle. The world, which according to the apostle, lieth in sin, is not any new world, completely separate from the divine world and composed of some special essential elements of its own; it is rather but the wrong interrelationship of the same elements which constitute the being of the divine world as well. The improper [such as it ought not to be] actuality [reality] of the natural world is the disjunct and inimical position, in relation to one another, of the same elements which in their normal relationship, namely, in their internal unity and accord, enter into the composition of the divine world. For if God, as the absolute or the all-perfect, contains in Himself all being, or all beings, then, consequently, there cannot be any beings which would have the foundation of their existence outside of God or were substantially outside of the divine world; and, consequently, nature in its contraposition to Divinity, can be only another position or a transposition of certain elements which substantially abide in the divine world. [↑↑ to the beginning of the chapter IX ↑↑]

Thus these two worlds differ one from the other not in essence but only in position [of the elements]: one of them represents the unity of all beings, or such an arrangement of them wherein each finds itself in .all, and all in each—while the other [world], on the contrary, represents that position [condition] of entities in which each, in itself or in its own will, asserts itself without regard to the others, as well as against the others (which is evil), and thereby experiences the external actuality of the others as contrary to its will (which is suffering).

This raises a question: how can such an improper situation of the natural world, this exclusive self-assertion of entities be explained? We know that self-assertion is an exerted condition of the will which centres in itself; segregates from, and contraposes itself to, all else. But the will is an inner action of the subject the direct expression and manifestation of its own being. The will is an extravertive action, an internal motion proceeding from within the subject itself; therefore every act of the will is, by its nature, free; every good volition is arbitrary [unrestrained, free] volition (as in language, at least in the Russian language, the will and freedom are synonyms).¹

Thus, if evil or egoism is a certain actual exerted condition of an in-dividual will which opposes itself to the whole, and every act of the will, by its definition, is free; then it follows that evil is a free product of individual beings.

But individual beings cannot be the free causes of evil in their capacity of physical beings, which they are in the natural material world; because this world, as well as they themselves in so far as they belong to it, are but consequences or manifestations of evil. Indeed, the external material separateness and particularity—which characterize the natural life and comprise the natural world in its contraposition to the divine world—the external apartness of the physical being is, as we know, a direct result of the internal discord and self-assertion or egoism; the later, therefore, itself lies deeper than any materially segregated being, beyond the limits of the physical existence of the subjects in their external separateness and plurality. In other worlds, the individual being as a physical phenomenon, that is itself conditioned by external necessity, cannot be the original free cause of evil.

Universal experience shows that every physical being is born in evil; an evil will together with egoism appear in each specific being at the very beginning of his physical existence, when his free rational or personal beginning does not yet function; so that that incipient evil is for him something already given, fatal, and involuntary, and in no manner his own free production. Unconditional will cannot belong to a physical being as such, for it is conditioned by another and does not act directly of itself. [↑↑ to the beginning of the chapter IX ↑↑]

Thus, evil, having no physical origin, must have a metaphysical beginning; the producing cause of evil may be the individual being not in his capacity as a natural, already conditioned, phenomenon, but in his unconditional eternal essence, to which belongs the original and immediate will of that being. If our natural world, lying in evil, as the land of curse and banishment, bringing forth wolves and thorns, is the inevitable consequence of sin and the fall; then, obviously, the origin of sin and of the fall lies not here but in that garden of God in which had been planted not only the tree of life, but also the tree of the knowledge of good and evil—in other words, the primordial origin of evil may have had place only in the domain of the eternal prenatural world.

In the pre-natural world we distinguish Divinity itself as the all-one, i.e., as the positive (independent, personal), oneness of all—and this `all', which is contained in the divine unity and originally has its real being only in it, in itself is only a potency of being, the first matter, or the non-existent (μη όν). As Divinity is the eternal and absolute self-determination—for as the fullness of the whole, as the unity of all, it cannot have anything external to itself and, consequently, is fully determined by itself; therefore, although as the extant one, Divinity has in itself an unlimited and immeasurable potentiality or force of being (without which nothing can exist), as the all-one it eternally actualizes this potentiality (possibility), always fills the unlimitedness of being by a similarly unlimited, absolute content, always quenches the infinite thirst of being, natural to all that exists. [But] it is not so in those particular essences which in their totality or all-unity form the content of the all-one Divinity. Each of these essences, precisely as 'each', i.e., as 'one out of all', is not and cannot be immediately, in itself, 'the whole'. Thus, for 'each' is opened the possibility of 'the other': the 'all', the absolute fullness of being in it (in 'each') is opened as an endless striving, as the unquenchable thirst of being, as a dark fire of life eternally seeking light. It (each) is 'this', but it desires, being 'this', to be 'all' but the 'all' does not actually exist for it as for merely 'this'; and therefore the striving towards all (to be all) is in it something totally indefinite and immeasurable, in itself without any limits. Thus that unlimitedness (in Greek: τò άπειρον), which in Divinity is only a possibility, which never reaches actuality (because always satisfyable, or satisfied from all eternity), here—in the particular entities—receives the significance of the fundamental element of their being, is the centre and basis of the whole created life. [↑↑ to the beginning of the chapter IX ↑↑]

But this centre of nature is not revealed directly even in particular beings, in so far as they are all originally contained in the unity of God and do not exist for themselves separately, are not aware of themselves as outside the divine all-unity, do not centre in themselves, and therefore the (in Greek: τò άπειρον) in them remains hidden, potential although not in the same sense as in God, in whom it i! always potentia post actum, whereas in them it is only potentia ante actum.

In that their original unity with Divinity, all beings formed one divine world in three major spheres, depending on which of the three basic modes of being—the substantial, the mental (ideal), or the sensual (real)—predominated in them; or by which of the three divine acts (will, representation, feeling) they were chiefly determined.

The first sphere of the divine world is characterized by a decisive predominance of the deepest, most inward and spiritual element of being—the will. Here all beings are in a simple unity of their will with Divinity in the oneness of the pure, immediate love; they are essentially determined by the divine prime-beginning, abiding 'in the bosom of the Father.' In so far as they belong to this first sphere, these beings are pure spirits, and the whole being of these pure spirits is directly determined by their will, because their will is identical with the all-one will of God. Here, then, the predominant tone of being is the unconditional love, in which all are one. [↑↑ to the beginning of the chapter IX ↑↑]

In the second sphere the fullness of the divine being unfolds in a multiplicity of images bound together by an ideal unity; here predominates representation or mental activity defined by the divine mind; entities in that sphere can be called, therefore, minds. Here all beings have their being not only in God and for God, but also for one another—in representation or contemplation; here, although only in an ideal manner, definiteness and distinction appear; all essences (ideas) are in a certain relation (ratio, in Greek: λόγος) one to another, and thus that sphere is pre-eminently the domain of the divine Word (Logos) who ideally expresses the rational fullness of the divine determinants. Here every 'mental' being is a definite idea, which has its definite place in the ideas cosmos.

In these two spheres (spiritual and mental) of the divine world, everything that exists is determined directly by the divine beginning in the first two forms of its being. But if in general the actuality of the divine world consists in the interaction between the one and all, that is to say, between the divine beginning itself and the multitude of beings contained in it, then the divine world cannot have its full actuality in these two first spheres [taken] by themselves, for there is not real interaction here—because entities, as pure spirits and pure minds, abiding in immediate unity with Divinity, do not have any separate, segregated, or self-centred existence, and as such cannot, of themselves, (internally) act upon the divine beginning. Indeed, entities as pure spirits, in the first sphere, where they are in the immediate unity with the divine love and will, have by themselves only potential existence; in the second sphere, although these multiple beings are, really, segregated by the divine Logos as definite objective forms, in a constant definite relationship one to another, and consequently receive here a certain individuality; yet it is a purely ideal individuality, for all being of this sphere is determined by contemplation or pure representation. But such ideal particularization of its elements is insufficient for the divine beginning as the one; it is necessary for it that the many beings receive their own real individualization, for otherwise the force of the divine unity or love would have no object upon which it could manifest itself or realize itself in its whole fullness. Therefore, the divine being cannot content itself with the eternal contemplation of the ideal essences (to behold them and to be beheld by them); it is not sufficient for it to possess them as its object, its idea, and to be for them only an idea; but, 'free from envy', i.e., from exclusiveness, it desires their own real life-i.e., [the divine being] brings its will out of that unconditional substantial unity, by which the first sphere of divine being is defined, directs this will upon the whole multitude of the ideal objects contemplated in the second sphere, and stops [rests] upon each of them separately; through an act of its will, it espouses each one of them, and thereby asserts, seals its [that entity's] own independent being, which then may act upon the divine beginning. By that real action [of Divinity] the third sphere of the divine being is formed. This act (or acts) of the divine will, uniting with the ideal objects or images of the divine mind, and thereby giving them their real being, is, properly speaking, the act of divine creation. The following consideration may serve as an explanation of it. Although the ideal beings (or minds) which constitute the object of the divine action, do not really have in themselves, separately, substantial being or unconditional self-subsistence—that would contradict the oneness of the extant One—yet each one of them represents a certain ideal particularity, a certain characteristic property which makes this object to be what it is and distinguishes it from all others, so that it always has been a completely independent significance, if not by [its) being, then by its essence or idea (non quoad existentiam, sed quad essentiam), i.e., by that inner property by which is defined its ideal relationship with all else, the relationship perceived in thought or contemplation, or its concept [meaning] (in Greek: λόγος), independent of its real existence. But Divinity, as inwardly all-one and all-good, fully asserts all other, i.e., posits its own will as an unlimited potency of being (in Greek: τò άπειρον) into all else, without retaining it in itself as in the one, but actualizing or objectifying it for itself as the all-one. By virtue of the essential particularity (by which it is this [and not anything else]), belonging to all else, i.e., to every divine idea, or to every objective image, every such image, every idea with which the divine will unites itself, is not indifferent to that will, but necessarily changes its action in accordance with its peculiarity, gives its own specific character, so to speak, moulds it into its own form; for it is obvious that the property of actual will is necessarily determined not only by the one who wills, but also by the object of its will. Every objective image, receiving the unlimited divine will in its own manner, by virtue of its own particularity, thereby assimilates it, i.e., makes it to be its own; thus this will ceases to be God's will only; assimilated in a certain way (as idea) and having received from it its own particular definite character, it becomes as much a property of that objective image in its particularity as an action of the divine being. Thus, the unlimited power of being (in Greek: τò άπειρον), which in Divinity is always covered by an act, for God always (eternally) desires or loves all, and has all in himself and for himself this unlimited potentiality in each particular being ceases to be covered by His actuality, for this actuality is not all, but only one out of all, something particular. That is to say, each entity loses its own immediate unity with Divinity, and the act of the divine will—which in Divinity, never separated from all others, has no limits—receives such a limit in a particular being. But in individualizing itself, that being begets the possibility of acting upon the unitary Divine will, determining that will in its own particular way. The particular idea, with which is united the act of divine will, impressing upon that act its own particular character, detaches it from the absolute immediate oneness of the divine will, receives it for itself and acquires in it the living force of actuality, which enables it to exist and to act of itself, in the capacity of an individual entity, or an independent subject. Thus we have now not only ideal beings which have their being only in the contemplation of Divinity, but living beings which have their own actuality and of themselves act upon the divine beginning. Such beings we call souls.

Thus, the eternal objects of divine contemplation, becoming the objects of particular divine will (more exactly, particularizing, by virtue of their inherent particularity, the divine will which acts in them), become the 'living souls'; in other words, entities which substantially are contained in the bosom of God the Father, which are ideally contemplated in the light of the divine Logos and themselves contemplate Him, by the power of the quickening Spirit receive their own real being and action. [↑↑ to the beginning of the chapter IX ↑↑]

The oneness of the divine beginning, substantially abiding in the first sphere of being and ideally manifested in the second, can receive its real actualization only in the third. In all the three spheres we distinguish the acting divine beginning of unity or Logos as the direct manifestation of Divinity, and the 'many' or the 'all' which are unified by the action of that One, [which] assimilate it [the One] into themselves, and actualize it. But in the first sphere this 'all' exists by itself only potentially, in the second only ideally; only in the third does it receive its own real existence; and therefore the unity of this sphere, produced by the divine Logos, appears [here], for the first time, as an actual independent being, which is able of itself to act on the divine beginning. Only here the object of divine action becomes a real, actual subject, and the action itself becomes a real interaction. This second [or] produced unity, as opposed to the original oneness of the divine Logos, is, as we know, the soul of the world or the ideal mankind (Sophia), which contains in itself and binds with itself all the particular living beings or souls. Representing the realization of the divine beginning, being its image and likeness, the protoform humanity or the soul of the world is simultaneously, one and all; she occupies the mediating position between the multiplicity of living beings, which comprise the real content of her life, and the unconditional unity of Divinity, which is the ideal beginning and the norm of that life. As the living focus or the soul of all creatures, and at the same time the real form of Divinity—die extant [living] subject of the created being and the extant [living] object of the divine action—participant of the oneness of God, and at the same time embracing the whole multiplicity of the living souls, the all-one humanity, or the soul of the world, is a dual being: containing in herself both the divine beginning and the created being, she is not defined exclusively by either one or the other and, consequently, remains free; the divine beginning, inherent in her, liberates her from her created nature, while the latter makes her free in regard to Divinity. In embracing all living beings (souls) and in them also all ideas, she is not exclusively bound to any one among them, is free from all of them—but, being the immediate centre and the real unity of all these beings, she receives in them, in their particularity, independence from the divine beginning [and] the possibility of acting upon it in the capacity of a free subject. In so far as she receives unto herself the divine Logos and is determined by Him, the soul of the world is humanity—the divine manhood of Christ—the body of Christ, or Sophia. Conceiving the unitary divine beginning and binding by this unity the entire multiplicity of beings, the soul of the world thereby gives the divine beginning [its] complete actual realization in everything; by means of her [through her as the medium] God is manifested in all creation as the living, active force, or as the Holy Spirit. In other words: in being determined or formed by the divine Logos, the soul of the world enables the Holy Spirit to actualize Himself in all; for that which in the light of Logos is revealed in ideal images, is realized by the Holy Spirit in real action. Hence it is clear that the soul of the world contains in unity all the elements of the world only in so far as she is herself subjected to the divine beginning which she receives, in so far as she retains that divine beginning as the sole object of her will of life, as the unconditional aim and focus of her being; for only in so far as she herself is permeated by the divine all-unity can she transmit it into the whole creation, uniting and subjecting to herself and the whole multitude of beings through the power of Divinity, resident in her. In so far as she is possessed by Divinity, in that measure she possesses all; for in Divinity everything is in unity; and asserting herself in the all-unity [of Divinity] she is thereby free from everything in particular, free in the positive sense, as possessing all. But the soul of the world receives the divine beginning and is determined by it not because of any external necessity, but by her own action; for as we know, she has in herself by her own position, the principle of independent action or the will, i.e., the capacity to initiate from within herself an inner motion (striving). In other words, the world soul can herself choose the object of the striving of her life.

What could be the object, besides the divine beginning, to which the world soul would strive? She possesses all; the unlimited potentiality of being (in Greek: τò άπειρον) is satisfied in her. But it is satisfied not unconditionally and, therefore, not finally. The world soul possesses 'all', as the content of her own being (her own idea) not immediately in herself, but from the divine beginning, which is essentially prior to her, is presupposed by her and defines her. Only as she is open in her inner being to the activity of the divine Logos does the world soul receive in Him and from Him power over all, and possesses all. Therefore, although possessing all, the world soul can still desire to possess it in a manner different from the way she does possess it, i.e., she can desire to possess it of herself, as God [desires anything]: she may wish to add to the fullness of being which belongs to her, also the absolute sell-substancy of her being in the possession of that fullness—something that does not belong to her. By virtue of this, the soul can detach the relative centre of her life from the absolute centre of the divine life, can assert herself outside of God. But thereby the soul necessarily loses her central position, falls from the all-one focus of the divine being to the circumference of multiple creation, losing her freedom and her power over this creation: for she possesses such power not of herself, but only as a mediatrix between creation and Divinity, from which in her self-assertion she becomes separated. In resting her will upon herself, centring in herself, she takes herself away from all, becomes but one among many. But when the world soul ceases to unite all with herself, then all lose their common bond, and the unity of cosmic creation breaks up into a multitude of separated elements, the universal organism becomes transformed into a mechanical aggregate of atoms. Because all the particular specific elements of the universal organism by themselves, i.e., as specific (each as 'something' but not as the whole, as 'this' but not as the other), are not [connected] in immediate unity one with the other, but have this unity only through the medium of the world soul, as their common focus which contains or encompasses all in itself. With the segregation of the world soul, however, when she, arousing in herself her own will, thereby detaches herself from the whole, the particular elements of the universal organism lose their common tie [which they had] in her, and, left to themselves, are doomed to the particularized, egoistic existence, the root of which is evil, and the fruit, suffering. Thus, the whole creature is subjected to the vanity and slavery of corruption not by its own will, but by the will of him² who has [so] subjected it, i.e., the world soul, as the one free beginning of natural life.

  ↑↑↑  Lecture Ten

The natural world, which has fallen away from the divine unity, appears as a chaos of disjointed elements. The plurality of disintegrated elements, foreign one to another, impermeable for each other, is expressed in real space. Real space does not consist only of the form of extension—every being and every representation has such form for another [being or representation]; even all the content of the inner psychic world, when we represent it concretely, appears as extended or as occupying space in that respect, i.e., in the formal sense;¹ but this is only the ideal space, which does not set any permanent and independent limit to our action; the real space or externality necessarily proceeds from the disintegration and mutual alienation of all that exists, by virtue of which every being has in all others [in all other beings] a constant and coercive boundary to his actions. In this condition of externality every single being, every element, is excluded or pushed out by all others; and, by resisting this external action, occupies a certain definite place, which it strives to retain exclusively for itself, demonstrating the force of inertia and impermeability. The complex system of external forces, shocks, and motions, which results from that mechanical interaction of elements, forms the world of matter. But this world is not a world of unconditionally homogeneous elements; we know that every real element, every single being (atom) has its own particular individual essence (idea); and if in the divine order all those elements, positively completing one another, form a whole and harmonious organism, then in the natural order we have this same organism only disintegrated in actuality (actu); it retains its ideal unity in a latent potentiality and in its tendency [striving, desire]. The gradual actualization of this striving, the gradual realization of the ideal all-oneness, constitutes the meaning and goal of the world process. As in the divine order all eternally is the absolute organism; so by the law of natural being, all gradually becomes such organism in time.²

The soul of this nascent organism—the soul of the world—at the beginning of the world-process is deprived, in actuality, of that unifying, organizing force which it has only in union with the divine beginning, as [the conductor or medium] receiving and transmitting it into the world; but separated from it, by itself, it is only an indefinite tendency towards the unity of all, an indefinite passive possibility (potentiality) of the all-unity. As an indefinite tendency, which as yet has no definite content, the world soul or nature³ cannot by itself reach that point to which it strives, i.e., all-unity; it is unable to generate it from its own self. In order to bring to unity and accord the disjointed and [mutually] hostile elements, it is necessary to determine for each [element] its specific function, to place it in a definite positive relationship towards all others—in other words, it is necessary not merely to unite everything, but to effect that unification in a definite, positive form. This definite form of all-unity or of the universal organism is contained in Divinity as an eternal idea. In the world, on the other hand—i.e., in the aggregate of the elements (of all that exists) which came out of unity—in this world, or rather, in this chaotic state of the existence of all (which had constituted the primordial fact) the eternal idea of the absolute organism had to be gradually realized; and the effort towards that realization, the striving towards the incarnation of Divinity in the world—this striving is universal, one in all, and therefore transcends the limits of each—it is this striving which, representing the inner life and beginning of movement in all that exists, is the world soul, properly speaking. And if, as it has been stated, the world soul by herself cannot realize herself because she lacks a definite positive form [necessary] for that purpose; then, it is obvious that in her impetus towards the realization [of the striving] she must look for that form in another [one]; and she can find it only in the one who eternally contains that form, i.e., in the divine beginning: which thus appears as the active, formative, and determining principle of the world-process.

In itself, the divine beginning is the eternal all-one, abiding in absolute repose and immutability; but in relation to the plurality of finite being, which has emerged from it, the divine beginning appears us the active force of unity—Logos ad extra. The multiple being rises in its discord against the divine unity, denies it; but Divinity, being by its essence the principle of all-unity, is only stimulated by that negative action of disintegrated being to a positive counteraction, to the revelation of its unifying force—at first in the form of an external law, setting the limit to the disintegration and strife of the elements, and then gradually actualizing a new, positive unification of these elements in the form of the absolute organism or the internal all-unity. [↑↑ to the beginning of the chapter X ↑↑]

And so the divine beginning appears here (in the world process) as the active force of the absolute idea which endeavours to embody itself in the [midst of the] chaos of the disjointed elements. The divine beginning thus strives towards the same aim as the world soul—towards the incarnation of the divine idea or the deification (theosis) of all that exists, by means of bringing all into the form of the absolute organism but with this difference, that the world soul as a passive force, as a pure aspiration, does not know originally towards what it should aim, i.e., does not possess the idea of all-unity; whereas the divine Logos as the positive beginning, as the active and formative force, has the idea of all-unity in Himself, and bestows it upon the world soul as the determining form. In the world process both, the divine beginning and the world soul, appear as the striving; but the striving of the divine beginning is the effort to realize, to incarnate in another that which it already has in itself, which it already knows and possesses, i.e., the idea of all-unity, the idea of the absolute organism; while die striving of the world soul is to receive from another that which she does not yet have in herself, and to incarnate what she will receive in what she has, in that to which she is bound, i.e., in the material being, in the chaos of the disjointed elements. But since the aim of their strivings is the same—the incarnation of the divine idea—and since the actualization of this aim is possible only with the concomitant action of the divine beginning and the world soul (because the divine beginning cannot directly realize its idea in the disjunct elements of the material being, as something alien and opposite to itself, and the world soul cannot immediately unite these elements, not having in herself the definite form of unity), therefore the striving of the divine beginning for the incarnation of the idea becomes the striving for union with the world soul, as the one in possession of the material [necessary] for that incarnation; and, in her turn, the striving of the world soul towards the realization of unity in its material elements, becomes the striving towards the divine beginning, as the one containing the absolute form [necessary] or that unity. [↑↑ to the beginning of the chapter X ↑↑]

Thus the incarnation of the divine idea in the world, which constitutes the goal of the whole world movement, is conditioned by the union of the divine beginning with the world soul, in which the first represents the active determining, formative, or fertilizing element, while the world soul appears as the passive force which receives the ideal beginning and endues the received with matter [requisite] for its development, with the encasement [shell, frame] [which it needs] for its complete manifestation. But now a question may arise. Why does not this union of the divine beginning with the world soul, and the resultant birth of the world organism as the incarnated divine idea (the Sophia)—why does not this union and this birth take place at once, in one act of divine creation? Why are these labours and efforts necessary in the life of the world, why must nature experience the pains of birth, and why, before it can generate the perfect and eternal organism, must it produce so many ugly, monstrous broods which are unable to endure the struggle for existence and perish without a trace? Why all these abortions and miscarriages of nature? Why does God leave nature to reach her goal so slowly and by such ill means? Why in general, is the realization of the divine idea in the world a gradual and complex process, and not a single, simple act? The full answer to this question is contained in one word, which expresses something without which neither God nor nature can be conceived; that word is freedom. By a free act of the world soul, the world united by it, fell away from Divinity and fell apart within itself into the multitude of elements warring among themselves; by a long series of free acts that whole rebellious multitude must make peace among themselves and be reconciled with God, and be reborn in the form of the absolute organism. If all that exists (in nature, or in the world soul) must be united with Divinity—and this constitutes the aim [purpose] of all being—then that unity, in order to be actual unity, must, obviously, be reciprocal, i.e., [must] proceed not only from God but also from nature, be nature's own task. But all-unity cannot be achieved in one immediate act by nature, as it is, eternally, in God; in nature, on the contrary, as immediately detaching itself from God, the actual being belongs not to the ideal all-oneness but to the material discord, while the all-unity appears in it as a pure striving, originally quite indefinite and empty; all is in chaos, nothing is yet in unity; consequently, being without unity, all can only pass to unity by virtue of its striving, and do so [only] gradually: because originally the world soul does not know [the idea of] all-unity at all, she strives towards it unconsciously, as a blind force—she strives towards it as towards something 'other'; the content of that 'other' is for her something completely foreign and unknown; and if this content, i.e., all-unity, were suddenly communicated or transmitted to her in its whole fullness, it would have appeared to her only as an external fact, as something fatal and coercive; whereas, in order to have it as a free idea, she must herself assimilate or master it, i.e., [must] pass from its indefiniteness and emptiness to more and more complete determinations of all-unity. Such is the general basis of the world process. [↑↑ to the beginning of the chapter X ↑↑]

After a series of external connections of the divine beginning with the world soul, and external manifestations of the divine idea (all-unity) in the natural world—beginning with the simplest, general, and external one, expressed in the cosmic law of gravitation, according to which all that exists is mutually attracted through an unconscious blind attraction; passing on to more complex means of unification, expressed, for example, in the laws of chemical affinity, according to which not every [molecule] is united with every [other molecule] with equal attraction, differing only according to external spatial relationships (distances) [as in physics], but only definitely specified relationships obtain for each definite molecule; passing, further on, to a still more complex and at the same time more individual form of unity, which we find in the structure and life of the vegetative and animal organisms, where the principle of natural unity or the world soul is realized openly, although not yet fully and visibly, in definite and permanent formations, binding the material element into certain solid and stable wholes, which in itself have the form and law of their own lives—the cosmogonic process is [finally] concluded with the creation of the perfect organism, that of man. The progressive course of this process is explained in the following manner. The world soul in its original state of pure striving for the unity of the whole, itself void of content, could receive unity at first only in the most general and indefinite form (in the law of universal gravitation). That was already an actual form of unity, although as yet completely general and empty; there the world soul was already realized in a certain way. But that form of unity was not sufficient for the world soul, for she was the potentiality not of that but of the absolute unity. Therefore she strove again, now not as a pure potentiality but as one in a certain degree realized (in the first general form of unity), and consequently strives not for unity in general, but for a new one, still unknown to her, which could satisfy her more than that which she already attained. For its part, the active beginning of the world process (the divine Logos) having now before it the world soul not only as a pure potentiality but as a potentiality already realized in a certain manner, namely, as the actual unity of elementary forces, gravitating towards each other, can unite with her in a new, more definite manner, and generate through her a new, a more complex and a deeper connection of world elements, for which their former, already realized connection [will] serve as a real basis or a material medium. On this new level of the process, the world soul appears, thus, clad in a more perfect form of unity, appears more fully realized; but in so far as this new form does not yet express the absolute unity, a new striving arises in the realization of which the previously achieved form of unity serves in its turn, as a material basis; and so on. One can discern a great number of such consequent levels in the world process, but we shall point out three main epochs of that process: The first, when the cosmic matter is drawn by the dominating action of the force of gravitation into large cosmic bodies—the stellar or astral epoch; the second, when these bodies become a basis for the development of more complex forces, (i.e., of the forms of the world unity)—heat, light, magnetism, chemism, and at the same time are concretely differentiated into the complex harmonious system of bodies, such as our solar system; and, finally, the third epoch, during which within the limits of such a system, an already segregated individual member of it (such is our globe) becomes the material basis for new formations, in which the previously dominant contraposition of the ponderable, inert, impermeable matter and the imponderable, eternally mobile, and all-permeating ether as a pure medium of unity, is replaced with a concrete confluence of the unifying form with the material elements overcome by it, in the organic life. [↑↑ to the beginning of the chapter X ↑↑]

After all this cosmogonic process, in which the divine beginning, uniting ever more closely with the world soul, overcomes the chaotic matter more and more, and finally brings it into the perfect form of the human organism. When, thus in nature was evolved the external receptacle for the divine idea, a new process began—that of the development of this idea as the momentum of the internal all-unity in the form of consciousness and free activity.

In man the world soul for the first time is internally united with the divine Logos in consciousness, as in the pure form of all-unity. Man, in reality but one of the many beings of nature, having in his consciousness the faculty of comprehending the reason or the inner connection and meaning (in Greek, logos) of all that exists, appears, in the idea [ideally], as all, and in this sense is the second all-one, the image and likeness of God. In man, nature outgrows itself and passes (in [human] consciousness) into the domain of the absolute being. Man, conceiving and bearing in his consciousness the eternal divine idea, and at the same time by his factual origin and existence inseparably connected with the nature of the external world, appears as the natural mediator between God and the material being, the conductor of the all-uniting divine beginning into the elemental plurality—[is] the organizer and manager of the universe. This role, which from the beginning belonged to the world soul (as the eternal humanity) receives in the natural man, i.e., one that was produced in the world process, the first opportunity of being factually realized in the order of nature. For all other beings produced in the cosmic process have in themselves actu, actually, only the natural beginning, the material one; the divine idea in the action of Logos is for them but an external law, an external form of being, to which they are subjected by natural necessity, but which they do not sense [know] as their own; here, there is no inner reconciliation between the particular finite being and the universal essence, 'all' [the universal] is only an external law for 'this', [the particular]: of the whole creation only man finding himself factually as [a particular] 'this', is aware of himself in the idea as [the universal] 'all'. Thus man is not limited by one beginning, but, having in himself, first, the elements of material being which bind him to the natural world; secondly, having the ideal consciousness of all-unity which unites him to God; and thirdly, not being exclusively limited by the one or the other; appears as a free 'ego', able to determine himself in one manner or another, in relation to the two sides of his being, free to incline to this side or w the other, to affirm himself in one or another sphere. If in his ideal consciousness man hears the image of God, then his unconditional freedom from the idea as well as from the fact, this formal limitlessness of the human 'ego', represents in him a likeness of God. Man not only has the same inner essence of life—all oneness—as God: he is also free to desire to have it as God, i.e., he may of himself wish to be like God. Originally he has this essence from God, in so far as he is determined by it in the immediate perception, in so far as his mind inwardly coincides with the divine Logos. But he (or the world soul in him) by virtue of his limitlessness, is not satisfied with that passive unity. He wishes to have that divine essence of himself, he wishes to take possession of it by himself, to assimilate it. In order to have it of himself and not only from God, he asserts himself apart from God, outside of God, he falls away or separates himself from God in his consciousness in the same manner as the world soul originally seceded from Him in all her being. [↑↑ to the beginning of the chapter X ↑↑]

But, rebelling against the divine beginning of all-unity, excluding it from his consciousness, man thereby falls under the power of the material beginning, for he was free from this latter only in so far as he kept a counterbalance in the former—he was free from the dominion of the natural fact only through the power of the divine idea; excluding it from himself, he becomes himself but a fact [loosing his former position] of the commanding centre of the natural world becomes one of the multitude of natural beings: no longer the focus of `all', he becomes a mere `this'. If before, as the spiritual centre of the universal creation, he embraced in his soul all nature and lived one life with it, loved and understood and therefore governed it; so now, having asserted himself in his separateness, having shut his soul off from everything, he finds himself in an alien and hostile world, which no longer speaks with him in any intelligible language, and which does not understand or obey his word. If previously man had in his consciousness a direct expression of the universal organic connection of [all] that exists, and that connection (the idea of the all-unity) determined the whole content of his consciousness; then now, no longer having this connection in himself, man loses with it the organizing beginning of his inner world—the world of [his] consciousness is transformed into chaos. The formative principles, which were acting in external nature and which reached in the human consciousness their internal unity, lose it [the unity] afresh. Consciousness appears as a simple form, seeking its content. This content appears here, therefore, as external [to consciousness], as something that consciousness must yet make its own, must yet assimilate. This internal assimilation by the consciousness of the absolute content (necessarily gradual) forms a new process, the subject of which is the world soul in the form of humanity subjected to the natural order. The element of evil, i.e., the exclusive self-assertion which had thrown all that exists into [the state of the] primordial chaos, and which was overpowered externally in the cosmic process, emerges once more in a new aspect, as a free conscious act of the individual man; and the newly arising process has as its aim the inner, moral overcoming of that evil principle. [↑↑ to the beginning of the chapter X ↑↑]

The world soul, which in man reached an inner union with the divine beginning, transcended the limits of the external natural being and focused all nature in the ideal unity of the free human spirit—by a free act of the same spirit once more loses its inner bond with the absolute being; in the capacity of natural humanity it falls under the dominion of the material element, into the enslavement to `corruption'; and only in the unconditional form of consciousness preserves the possibility (potentiality) of a new inner union with Divinity. As in the beginning of the general universal (cosmogonic) process, the world soul appeared as a pure potentiality of unity, without any definite form or real content (since all actuality belonged to chaos): so here also, in the beginning of the human or historical process, the human consciousness, i.e., the world soul [which] attained the form of consciousness, appears as a pure potentiality of the ideal all-unity; while all actuality is reduced to the chaos of external natural phenomena which arise (for consciousness) in the external order of space, time, and mechanical casualty, but without any internal unity or connection. For consciousness, which has lost the inner unity of the whole in the divine Spirit, only that external unity becomes accessible then which is generated by the cosmic action of the divine Logos upon the world soul as the matter of the world process. The consciousness of humanity strives to reproduce in itself those definite forms of unity which had been already evolved by the cosmogonic process in the material nature, and the unifying forces of this latter (the offspring of the Demiurge and the world soul) appear now in consciousness as determining it, giving it the content of the natural elements, gradually manifest themselves and reign in it as lords not only of the external world but even of consciousness itself; as real gods. This new process is thus, first of all, a theogonic process; not, of course, in the sense that these dominant elements were created in the [course of that] process, [not in the sense] that mankind invented its own gods—we know that these elements existed prior to man as cosmic forces, although in that capacity they were not gods (for there are no gods without worshippers)—they become gods only for the human consciousness which acknowledges them to be such, after it has fallen under their dominion as the result of its separation from the one divine centre. [↑↑ to the beginning of the chapter X ↑↑]

Since both the starting point and the determining principles of the theogonic process are the same as in the cosmogonic process, and the distinction [between them] is only in the form of consciousness,⁴ it is natural to expect a substantial analogy between those two processes. And indeed, even the insufficient and poorly worked out information which we have about the theogonic process (i.e. the development of ancient mythology) allows us to establish such an analogy between this development and the ccsrnogonic process. As this latter, when analysed as a whole, represents three main epochs—the astral, in which the chaos of material elements, obedient to the force of gravitation, is differentiated into a multitude of cosmic bodies; the solar, in which these bodies are integrated into complex and harmonious systems (of which, for us, there is but one, our solar system); and, finally, the tellurian epoch, when within the limits of the solar system an already detached body (for us our globe) becomes the basis for the development of more com-plex and differentiated forms of unity which clothe the [evolving] organic life of the world soul—so also in the theogonic process we discern three corresponding epochs. First, when the world unity is revealed to the natural consciousness of mankind in the astral form and the divine beginning is worshipped as the fiery lord of the heavenly legions—the epoch of star-worship or Sabaism. The dominant god of this epoch appears to the consciousness alienated from the divine sphere as a being immeasurably high, incommensurate with man, [and] therefore alien to him, incomprehensible, and terrible; in its infinite supremacy it demands unconditional subordination, does not admit anything by the side of itself, is exclusive and despotic—it is the god of unconditional seclusion and inertness, who is hostile to movement [progress] and to live creation—it is Chronos, who devours his own children, it is Moloch, who bums the children of men; a thousand years later, we recognize this despot of the skies in a somewhat modified form as the Allah of the Moslems. Possessed by that 'divine' force, [human] consciousness strives to eliminate all free movement of human forces, the diversity of living forms, all cultural progress. But human consciousness could not long be satisfied with that grandiose but poor and desolate unity, and soon after the immobile and immutable god of the starry skies, there comes forward an eternally moving and changing, suffering and triumphing, gracious and luminous god—the sun. The astral religion is everywhere followed by the solar religion; among all the peoples of antiquity we meet at a certain epoch of their religious consciousness the predominant image of the bright solar god, who at first struggles, performs glorious exploits (Krishna, Melcarte, Hercules), then suffers, is vanquished by his enemies and dies (Osiris, Attis, Adonis); and finally rises again and triumphs over his enemies (Mithras, Perseus, Apollo). But, as in the physical world the sun is not only the source of light, but also the source of all organic life upon earth; so the religious consciousness naturally passes from [the worship of] the god of light to [that of] the god of the earthly organic life (Shiva, Dionysus). Here the divine beginning appears as the element of the natural organic process outside of man and in him; the idea of unity (the constant content of religion) takes on the form of the generic unity of organic life, and the natural act through which that unity is preserved receives a special religious significance: after the solar cult everywhere in the ancient world at a certain epoch arose, fighting for supremacy, the cult of the phallus—the religion of the genetic process, the deification of those acts and those organs which serve the genetic unity.

Subjected at first to the distant forces of the celestial lights, mistaking the [seemingly] all-embracing vastness of the stellar dome for the divine infinity and unity, the human soul's [attention] shifted then to the closer and more active force of the sunlight, finding a clear image of Divinity in that beneficent light as the central active principle [power] of the physical world around her. And in the phallic religions, finally, the soul['s attention] returns directly to its own material element, wherein the complex unity of the genetic organic life she finds the supreme natural manifestation of the universal unity. Here individual human soul subjects itself to and adores the common natural life of the human-kind—the life of the genus. But that genetic life, this unity of the genus, maintained only by the constantly renewed process of birth—this unity is never realized for the individual soul (because the life of the race is preserved here at the expense of the individual life, by absorbing, not by completing it, so that the life of the race is the death of the individual); this ill, negative unity of the genetic life cannot satisfy the world soul, which by now has reached in man the capacity for an inner, positive unity. [↑↑ to the beginning of the chapter X ↑↑]

As the cosmogonic process terminated in the birth of the human being endowed with consciousness, so the result of the theogonic process is [the appearance of] the self-consciousness of the human soul [or its awareness of itself] as the spiritual beginning, free from the domination of natural gods and able to conceive the divine beginning in itself and not through a medium of cosmic forces. This liberation of human self-consciousness and the gradual spiritualization of man through the inner assimilation and development of the divine beginning constitutes the proper historical process of mankind. Three great peoples of antiquity appear as the prime movers of this historical proass: the Hindus, the Greeks, and the Jews. Their relative significance in religious history has been pointed out before.⁵ But the conceptions which we have now reached about the world soul and the world process throw a new light upon the historico-religious character of these three peoples.

In India the human soul was for the first time emancipated from the domination of the cosmic forces, and was as if intoxicated by its freedom, by the consciousness of its unity and unconditionality: its inner action is not bound by anything, it freely gives way to reveries, and in these reveries all the ideal creations of humanity are already complete as in embryo—all the religious and philosophical doctrines, poetry and science—but all in an undifferentiated indefiniteness and confusion, as in a dream all things are entangled, merged, everything is the same and, therefore, all is nothing. Buddhism said the last word of the Hindu consciousness; all the existant and non-existant is alike an illusion and dream. This point of view of the primitive unity and indifference is the awareness of the soul of itself within itself, because in itself, as a pure potentiality in separation from the active divine beginning which [alone] can give it content and reality, the soul, of course, is nothing. [↑↑ to the beginning of the chapter X ↑↑]

But freed from the material content of life, and at the same time aware of it as nothingness in itself, the soul must either renounce existence or seek new immaterial content. The Indian, and the Eastern consciousness generally, had taken the first course, while classical humanity went along the second path. In the Graeco-Roman world the human soul appears free not only from the external cosmic forces but even from its own self, from its inner, purely subjective contemplation of itself, in which we find it engrossed in India. Now it is again open to the action of the divine Logos, no longer as an external cosmic or demiurgic force, but as a purely ideal, inner force; here the soul of man yearns to find its true content, i.e., the unitary and the universal, not in the empty indifference of its [original] potential being, but in the objective creations which realize beauty and reason-in pure art, in scientific philosophy, and in the state based on government of [by] law.

The creation of this ideal sphere, of this 'world without blood or tears', is the great triumph of the supreme Reason, the actual beginning of the true unification of mankind and the universe. But this unification [so far] takes place only in the [realm of the] idea; it is the revelation of the idea as the truth above the factual being, but not the actualization of it in the latter. The divine idea appears here to the soul as its object and supreme norm, but does not penetrate into the very being [nature] of the soul, does not take possession of its concrete actuality. In knowledge, in art, in pure law, the soul contemplates the ideal cosmos, and in that contemplation egoism and struggle, the power of the material chaotic principle over the human soul, disappear. But the soul cannot for ever remain in a state of contemplation; it lives in factual reality, and this life of it remains outside of the ideal sphere, is not absorbed by it; the idea does exist for the soul, but does not cover [extend over] its actuality. With the unfolding of the ideal world there appear for men two orders of being—the material, factual existence (in Greek, i genesis), the evil [existence], one which ought not to be, the root of which is the wicked personal will; and the impersonal world of pure isead (in Greek, to ontos on), the domain of the true and the perfect. But these two spheres continue to remain so contraposed one to another; they do not find reconciliation in the classical world view. The world of ideas, the ideal cosmos, which forms the truth of this world view in its highest expression—Platonism—represents [a realm of] being absolutely unknown, remains in the undisturbed peace of eternity, leaving the world of material phenomena beneath itself, being reflected in it as the sun in a muddy stream, but leaving it unchanged, neither purifying nor enlightening it. Such a world view demands of man only that he should leave this world, dive out of this muddy stream into the light of the ideal sun, that he should free himself from the chains of bodily existence as if from a prison or grave. Thus, the duality and contraposition of the ideal and the material worlds, of the truth and the fact, remains here unsolved; there is no reconciliation. If the truly-extant is revealed only to contemplation, as a realm of ideas, then the personal life of man, the domain of his will and action, remains outside of the truth, in the world of false material being; but in that case man is unable, in fact, to leave this false world entirely, for [in order] to do so he would have to desert himself, his own soul, which lives and suffers in this world. The ideal sphere with all of its wealth can, as an object of contemplation, merely divert man from his evil and suffering will, [it can-] not quench it. This wicked and suffering will is a fundamental fact, which cannot be done away with either by the Hindu consciousness [to which] this fact [appears] as an illusion (for even here the fact appears as an illusion for consciousness only, while for the whole life it remains a fact as before); or by the idea that man can for a time get away from this fact into the realm of ideal contemplation, since he will have to return from that bright realm to this wicked life again. [↑↑ to the beginning of the chapter X ↑↑]

The divine beginning can act upon the human element which separated itself from [God] and asserted itself in its evil will, in a threefold manner.

It [Divinity] can suppress it [the human element] externally, but [in doing so] it will suppress only the manifestation of the evil will, not that will itself; the latter, as an inner subjective force, cannot be destroyed by any external action. It is for this reason that the external action of the divine Logos upon man, which we found in the theogonic process, appeared insufficient, inconsistent with the purpose of the inner reunion of mankind with Divinity. The cult of natural religion limited the self-assertion of the human element, compelled it to submit perforce to the higher powers acting in nature, compelled it to bring sacrifices to these forces; but the root of man's life, his evil will, the material principle which had arisen within him, remained untouched, as something alien and inaccessible to these external natural gods.

Closer to the aim, although still insufficient, appears the second kind of action of the divine beginning upon man: the ideal or enlightening action. This action can take place because the human soul is something greater than its given factual state. If in this latter it is an irrational element, a blind force of self-assertion, then in its potentiality it is rational, a striving towards inner unity with the whole. And if in the external, suppressive action (in natural religion) the divine Logos is related to the irrational element of the soul as a force to force, then in provoking the rational potentiality of man, it can act within the soul as reason or inner word; namely, He can divert the soul from its factual reality, present this latter as an object, and demonstrate to the soul the illusiveness of its material being, the evil of its natural will, by unfolding before the soul the truth of another being, one which corresponds to reason. This is the ideal action of the divine Logos which we find pre-eminently among the cultured nations of the ancient world in the highest epoch of their development. But this action, too, is not complete, [merely] one-sided, although [it is] internal. To recognize the nothingness [worthlessness] of one's own factual reality [beheld] asan object in contemplation, does not mean to make it insignificant in actuality, does not mean to remove it in fact [from experience]. As long as the truth is opposed to the personal will and life, immersed in the untruth, solely as an idea, life [experience] remains essentially unchanged; the abstract idea cannot overcome it because the personal will of life, although evil, is nevertheless an actual force; whereas the idea, not incarnate in living personal forces, appears only as a light shadow. [↑↑ to the beginning of the chapter X ↑↑]

Thus, in order that the divine beginning could really overcome the evil will and life of man, it is necessary that it appear for the soul a living personal force, able to penetrate into the soul and to take possession of it; it is necessary that the divine Logos should not only influence the soul externally, but [that He should] be born within the soul not [only] limiting or enlightening it, but regenerating it. And as the soul in the natural mankind appears actually only in a plurality of the individual souls, the actual union of the divine beginning with the soul also necessarily assumes an individual form, i.e., the divine Logos is born as an actual individual man. As in the physical world the divine beginning of unity is first manifested as the force of gravitation, binding bodies together by blind attraction; then as the force of light, disclosing their mutual properties; and finally, as the force of organic life, in which the formative principle penetrates matter and after a long series of formations generates the perfect physical organism of man: so in the following process, the divine beginning at first binds together the separate human beings into a generic unity by the power of spiritual gravitation; then it enlightens them with the ideal light of reason; and, finally, penetrating into the soul and uniting with it organically, concretely, gives birth to a new, spiritual man. And as in the physical world a long series of imperfect forms (which were, nevertheless, organic, living forms) preceded the appearance of the perfect human organism, so in history the birth of the perfect spiritual man was preceded by a series of incomplete yet living, personal revelations of the divine beginning to the human soul. These living revelations of the living God we find (preeminently) in the Jewish people. [↑↑ to the beginning of the chapter X ↑↑]

Every manifestation of the divine beginning, every theophany, is determined by the character of the milieu receiving it; in history it was conditioned first of all by the peculiarity of a national character, by the particular traits of the nation in which the given manifestation of Divinity took place. If the divine beginning was manifested to the Hindu spirit as the nirvana, to the Greeks as the idea and the ideal cosmos, then it was to appear among the Jews as a personality, as a living subject, as an 'I': because their national character consisted precisely of the predominance of the personal, subjective factor. This character is manifested in the whole historical life of the Jews, in all that this nation has created or is creating. Thus, we see that in poetry the Jews have created something specifically their own only in that form which represents the subjective, personal element: they created the masterly lyrics of the Psalms, the lyric idyl of the Song of Songs, but they could not create real epic or drama, such as we find in Hindu and Greek literature—not only during their independent existence but even later on—we can point to Heine, the genius lyrical writer among the Jews, but we cannot find among them a single outstanding dramatist, precisely because drama is an objective form of poesy. It is also remarkable that the Jews distinguish themselves in music, i.e., in that art which expresses preeminently the inner subjective motions of the soul, and have not produced anything worth while in the plastic arts. In the domain of philosophy, during their flourishing epoch, the Jews never went further than moral didactics, i.e., that field in which the practical interests of the moral personality predominate over the objective contemplation and the reasoning of the mind. Correspondingly in religion the Jews were the first fully to conceive of God as a person, as a subject, as the living 'I'; they could not content themselves with the representation of Divinity as an impersonal force and as the impersonal idea. [↑↑ to the beginning of the chapter X ↑↑]

The character which asserts in everything the subjective element, can be the bearer of the greatest evil as well as the greatest good. For, if the force of the personality in asserting itself in its own separateness is evil and the root of evil, then the same force, having subjected itself to the highest beginning—the same flame [but] permeated with the divine light—appears as the force of the world-wide, all-embracing love. Without the force of the self-asserting personality, without the force of egoism, the good itself in man appears impotent and cold, appears only as an abstract idea. Every actively moral character presupposes the subjugated force of evil, i.e., of egoism. As in the physical world a certain force, in order to manifest itself actually, [in order] to, become energy, must consume or transform (into its own form) a corresponding amount of energy which previously existed [in another form] (thus light is a transformation of heat; heat, of mechanical motion; and so forth); in the same manner, in the moral world, the potentiality of the good in the soul of a man who was subjected to natural order, can be manifested actively only with the consummation or transformation of the energy of the soul already in its possession—which in the natural man is the energy of the self-asserting will, the energy of evil, which must be reduced to the potential state in order that the new force of the good might be actualized from [its heretofore] potential [state] into action. The essence of the good is given by an act of God, but the energy of its manifestation in man can be had only with the transformation of the conquered force of the self-asserting personal will, after it was subjugated into the potential state. Thus, in a holy man the actual good presupposes potential evil; he is great in his holiness because he might be great in evil as well; he overcame the force of evil, has subjected it to the highest beginning, and it has become the basis and carrier of the good. That is why the Jewish people, demonstrating the worst aspects of human nature, 'a stiff-necked people' and with a stony heart, this same people is the people of the saints and the prophets of God, the nation in which was to be born the new spiritual man. [↑↑ to the beginning of the chapter X ↑↑]

The whole Old Testament represents the history of personal relations of God (Logos or Jehovah) manifesting Himself to the representatives of the Jewish nation—its patriarchs, leaders, and prophets. In these personal relations, which form the religion of the Old Testament, a succession of three grades is noticed. The first mediators between the Jewish nation and its God, the ancient patriarchs Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob, believe in the personal God and live by that faith. The representatives of Judaism that follow them—Moses, who saw God, David, 'the man after the heart of Jehovah', and Solomon, the builder of the great temple—receive clear revelations of the personal God and try to carry [the message, the practical bearings of] these revelations into social life and the religious cult of their people; in their person Jehovah concludes a certain external covenant or pact with Israel, as person with person. The last series of Jewish representatives, the prophets, cognizant of the insufficiency of that external union, forefeel and announce another, inner unification of Divinity with the human soul in the person of the Messiah, the son of David and the son of God; and they forefeel and herald this Messiah not only as a supreme representative of Judaism, but as the 'ensign of the nations', as the representative and the head of all regenerated humanity. [↑↑ to the beginning of the chapter X ↑↑]

If, thus, the milieu for the incarnation of the divine beginning was determined by the national character of the Jews, its time was contingent upon the general course of history. When the ideal revelation of the Word in the Hellenic-Roman world was exhausted and proved to be insufficient for the living soul; when man, regardless of the enormous, never seen before, riches of culture, found himself alone in a poor and empty world; when everywhere appeared doubt of the truth and an aversion to life, and the best men passed from despair to suicide; when, on the other hand—precisely because the reigning ideal principles proved to be radically insolvent—then there appeared an awareness of the fact that ideas in general are insufficient for the struggle against the evil of life; then there appeared a demand that the truth should become incarnated in a living personal force. And when the external truth, that of the people, of the state, became in fact centred in one living person—the person of a deified man, the Roman Caesar—then appeared also the divine truth in the living person of the incarnate God, Jesus Christ.

  ↑↑↑   Lectures Eleven and Twelve

The incarnation of the divine Logos in the person of Jesus Christ is the manifestation of the new spiritual man, thesecond Adam. As under the first, natural, Adam we must understand not only a separate person among other persons, but the all-one personality, including in himself all natural humanity, so the second Adam is not only this individual being, but at the same time also the universal being, embracing all the regenerated, spiritual humanity. In the sphere of the eternal divine being, Christ is the eternal spiritual centre of the universal organism. But since this organism, or the universal humanity, falling into the stream of phenomena becomes subjected to the law of external being, and must through labour and suffering restore in time that which was lost by it in eternity, i.e., its internal unity with God and nature—then Christ also, as the active principle of that unity, for the real restoration of it has to descend into the same stream of phenomena, has to be subjected to the same law of external being, and from the centre of eternity, become the centre of history, appearing at a certain moment of it [namely], 'in the fullness of time'. The evil spirit of discord and enmity, eternally powerless against God, at the beginning of time had overpowered man; in the middle of time had to be over-powered by the Son of God and the Son of man, as the first-born of the whole creation, in order to be driven out of the whole creation at the end of time—this is the essential meaning of the incarnation. The Latin theologians of the Middle Ages, who transferred the juridical character of ancient Rome into Christianity, built the well known legalistic theory of redemption as the vicarious satisfaction of the violated divine right [law]. This theory, worked out with especial finesse by Anselm of Canterbury and preserved in later ages in different variants, found its way also into the Protestant theology. It is not altogether devoid of correct meaning, but this meaning has been fully obscured in it by certain coarse and unworthy ideas about Divinity and its relation to the world and man which are equally repugnant to philosophic understanding and to truly Christian feeling. Christ's cause is not a juridical fiction, a casuistic solution of an impossible law suit—it is an actual exploit, a real struggle with and victory over evil. The second Adam was born on earth not in order to complete a formal juridical process, but for the real salvation of mankind, for its actual deliverance from the power of the evil force, for pragmatic revelation of the Kingdom of God in humanity.

But before one would speak of the cause of Christ, for which He was incarnated, one must necessarily answer two questions: (1) as to the possibility of the incarnation, i.e., of the real union of Divinity with humanity; and (2) as to the manner of that union. [↑↑ к началу глав XI и XII ↑↑]

As regards the first question, certainly the incarnation is impossible if we look upon God as only a separate being, abiding somewhere outside of the world and man. With such a view (deism) the inhumanization of Divinity would be a direct violation of the logical law of identity, i.e., a perfectly unthinkable case. But the incarnation is equally impossible from the other point of view according to which (pantheism), God is but the universal substance of the world phenomena, the universal 'all', and man is only one of these phenomena. According to this view, the inhumanization would contradict the axiom that the whole [all] cannot be equal to one of its parts: God could not become man any more than the waters of an entire ocean could remain all its waters and be at the same time only one of its drops. But is it necessary to conceive of God either as only a separate being, or as only the common substance of cosmic phenomena? On the contrary, the very conception of God as the full integrity or perfection (the absolute) removes both one-sided definitions and clears the way for another view, according to which the world as material, as the aggregate of limitations, being outside of God (in these its limits) is at the same time essentially united with God in its internal life¹ or soul [the world-soul]; and God, being at once transcendental in himself (abiding beyond the limits of the world), at the same time in relation to the world appears as the active creative force which becomes incarnate in order to communicate to the world-soul what it seeks and yearns for—(namely) the fullness of being in the form of all-unity—[the active creative force] which wills to unite with the soul and to generate out of it the living image of Divinity. The above determines the cosmic process in material nature which terminated in the birth of the natural man, as well as the following historical process which prepared the birth of the spiritual man. Thus, this latter, i.e., the incarnation of Divinity, was not anything miraculous in the proper sense [of that word], i.e., was not anything alien to the general order of being, but, on the contrary, was essentially bound with the whole history of the world and humanity, something prepared in, and logically following from, this history. In Jesus was incarnated not the transcendent God, not the absolute self-enclosed fullness of being (that would be impossible), but God-the-Word, i.e., the [divine] beginning manifested outwardly, [one] acting on the periphery of being; and His personal incarnation in an individual man was but the final link in a long series of other incarnations, physical and historical—this appearance of God in the human flesh was only a more complete, a more perfect theophany in a series of other, imperfect, preparatory, and transformative theophanies. From this point of view the appearance of the spiritual man, the birth of the second Adam, was not any more incomprehensible than the appearance of the natural man on the earth, the birth of the first Adam. Both we're new, unprecedented facts in world life; both, in this sense, appear miraculous. But this new and unprecedented phenomenon was prepared in advance by all that had happened before, (it) constituted that which the former life desired, towards which it strove and proceeded: all nature strove and gravitated towards man, the whole history of mankind was directed towards the God-man. In any event, in the discussion of the possibility or impossibility of the inhumanization of Divinity, the main point consists in the understanding of Divinity and humanity; according to the conception of Divinity and humanity presented in these lectures, the incarnation of Divinity is not only possible but is essentially a part of the general plan of creation. But although the fact of the incarnation, i.e., of the personal union of God with man, is grounded in the general meaning of the universal process and in the order of divine action, that does not yet solve die question as to the form [nature, character] of this union, i.e., as to the relationship and interaction of the divine [beginning] and the natural human element in the personality of the God-man, or as to what is the spiritual man, the second Adam.

In general, man is a certain union of Divinity with material nature; and that presupposes in man three constituent elements: the divine, the material, and that which binds both together, the properly human. The conjunction of these three elements is what really forms the actual man, and the properly-human element is the mind (ratio), i.e. the relationship of the two others. When this relation consisted of a direct and immediate subjection of the natural element to the divine [beginning] we had the primordial man, the prototype of humanity, not yet detached from but enclosed within, the eternal unity of the divine life; here the natural human element was contained in the actuality of the divine being as an embryo, potentia. When, on the contrary, the actuality of man belongs to his material element, when he knows himself [only] as a fact or as a phenomenon of nature, and [regards] the divine beginning in himself only as a possibility of a different being, then we have the natural man. The third possible relationship takes place when Divinity and nature are of equal actuality in man, and his human life, properly so called, consists in an active co-ordination of the natural element with the divine, or in a free subjection of the former to the latter. Such relationship forms the spiritual man. From this general conception of the spiritual man certain conclusions follow. First: in order that concordance of the natural element with the divine beginning in man be an actuality, it is necessary that it take place in a single person—otherwise there would be only a real or ideal interaction between God and the natural man, but there would be no new spiritual man—in order to have an actual union of Divinity with nature, a person is necessary in whom this union might take place. Second, in order that this union be an actual union of the two beginnings, the actual presence of both of these beginnings is necessary; it is necessary that this personality be God as well as the actual, natural man—both natures are necessary. Third, in order that the concordance of the two natures in the personality of the God-man be a free spiritual act, it is necessary that the human will take part in it, [a will] distinct from the divine will; it is necessary that, rejecting any possible contradiction with the divine will, the human will would freely submit to it and bring human nature into complete inner harmony with Divinity. Thus, the conception of the spiritual man presupposes a single God-man personality, uniting in itself two natures and possessing two wills.²

The original immediate union of the two beginnings in man—the unity represented by the first Adam in his state of innocence in the Garden of Eden, which was destroyed in his fall, could not be simply restored. A new unity could not be immediate, [could not be] innocence; it had to be attained. It can only be the result of a free act, of an exploit, and a double exploit—[that] of the divine and human self-denial; because for the true union or concordance of the two principles, free participation and action of both are necessary. We have seen previously how the interaction of the divine and natural beginnings defines the whole life of the world and humanity, and (how) the whole course of this life consists in the gradual coming together and interpenetration of these two beginnings, which were at first far apart and external to each other, then came more and more closely together, permeating each other deeper and deeper until nature appeared in Christ as the human soul ready for total self-denial, and God [appears] as the spirit of love and mercy communicating to this soul the whole fullness of divine life—not suppressing it [the soul] by force, not illuminating its understanding, but in His graciousness quickening it. Here we have an actual divine-human personality, able to accomplish the double exploit of the divine and human self-abnegation. To a certain extent such a self-abnegation had already aken place in the whole cosmic as well as historical process. For here, on one hand, the divine Logos, by a free act of llis divine will or love, abnegated His divine dignity (the glory of God) refraining from any manifestation of it; [in the cosmic process] He left the peace of eternity, entered upon the struggle with the evil beginning, and subjected Himself to the anxieties of the world process, appearing in the chains of external being, in the limits of space and time; and then [in history] He appeared to the natural humanity, acting upon it in different finite forms of the world life, which concealed rather than revealed the true being of God. On the other hand, the nature of the world and humanity, in its constant yearning and striving for the ever fuller reception of the divine image, continuously negates itself in its given, actual forms. But here (i.e., in the cosmic and historic process) this self-denial is not perfect on either side because the boundaries of the cosmic and historic theophanies are external limits for Divinity, determining Its manifestation for the 'other' (for nature and humanity) but in no manner affecting its inner being or awareness of Itself.³ Nature and natural humanity, on the other hand, in their perpetual progress abnegate themselves not by a free act, but only by an instinctive tendency. In the personality of the God-man, however, the divine beginning, precisely as a consequence of the fact that it is related to its antipode not through an external act, which would limit the antipode (without changing itself [i.e., the divine beginning]) but through an inner self-limitation [by] which [it] gives room in itself to the 'other one'—such an inner uniorhwith the antipode is the real self-denial on the part of the divine beginning, here it actually descends, annihilates itself, takes on itself the likeness of a slave. The divine beginning here is not hidden from man by the limits of human consciousness, as was the case in the previous, incomplete theophanies: here it itself adopts these limitations. Not that it wholly enters into the limits of natural consciousness (that is impossible) but it actually feels these limits as its own at the given moment; and this self-limitation of Divinity in Christ liberates His humanity, allowing its natural will to abnegate itself freely in favour of the divine beginning—[to abnegate it] not as an external force (in that case His denial would not be free) but as an inner good—and thereby to acquire that good actually. Christ, as God, freely renounces the glory of God and thereby as man acquires the possibility of attaining that glory. On the way to this attainment the human nature and [the human] will of the Saviour unavoidably encounter the temptation of evil. The divine-human personality represents a dual consciousness: the consciousness of the limits of natural existence, and the consciousness of its divine essence and power. And so, experiencing the limitations of a natural being, the God-man may be subjected to the temptation to make His divine power a means for the aims which develop as the result of those limitations.

First, to a being subjected to the conditions of material existence is presented the temptation to make material welfare the goal, and his divine power, the means for attaining it: 'if thou be the Son of God, command that these stones be made bread'. Here the divine nature—'if thou be the Son of God'—and the manifestation of that nature, the word 'command', are to serve as means for the satisfaction of a material need. Christ in answer to this temptation asserts that the Word of God is not an instrument of material life, but itself is the source of the true life for man: `Man shall not live by bread alone but by every word that proceedeth out of the mouth of God'. Having overcome this temptation of the flesh, the Son of Man receives authority over all flesh.

Second, to the God-man, free from the material motives, is presented a new temptation—to make His divine power an instrument for the self-assertion of His human personality, to fall into the sin of the intellect—that of pride: 'if thou be the Son of God, cast thyself down: for it is written, He shall give his angels charge over thee: and in their bands they shall bear thee up, lest at any time thou dash thy foot against a stone'. This act (`cast thyself down') would be a proud call of man to God, a temptation of God by man, and Christ answers: 'it is written again, Thou shalt not tempt the Lord thy God'.⁴ Having conquered the sin of the mind, the Son of Man receives authority over the minds.

The third temptation was the last and the strongest one. The enslavement to the flesh and the pride of the mind have been removed: the human will finds itself now on a high moral level, is conscious of being higher than the rest of creation; in the name of this moral height, man can wish for the mastery over the world in order to lead the latter to perfection; but the world lieth in sin and will not voluntarily submit to moral superiority: [it may seem] therefore that the world should be forced into subjection, that it is necessary [for Christ] to use His divine power to force the world into subjection. But such a use of coercion, i.e., of evil, for the attainment of a good would be [equivalent to] a confession that evil is stronger than the good, that the good by itself has no force. It would be [equivalent to] falling down before that element of evil which dominates the world: 'and [he] sheweth Him all the kingdoms of the world, and the glory of them; and saith unto him; All these things will I give Thee, if Thou wilt fall down and worship me'. Here the human will is directly challenged with the fateful question: what does it believe, and what does it wish to serve—the invisible might of Cod or the force of evil that openly reigns in the world? And the human will of Christ, having overcome the temptation of a plausible desire for power, freely subjected itself to the true good, denying any agreement with the evil which reigns in the world: 'Then saith Jesus unto him: Get thee hence, Satan: for it is written, Thou shalt worship the Lord thy God and Him only shalt thou serve'. Having conquered the sin of the spirit, the Son of Man received supreme authority in the realm of the spirit; refusing to submit to the earthly power for the sake of dominion over the earth, He acquired for Himself the service of the powers of heaven: 'and, behold, angels came and ministered unto Him'. [↑↑ к началу глав XI и XII ↑↑]

Thus, having overcome the temptations of the evil beginning which were trying to incline IIis human will to self-assertion, Christ subjected and co-ordinated this human will with the divine will, [thereby] deifying His manhood after the inhumanizations⁵ of his Divinity. But the high deed of Christ was not exhausted by the inner self-denial of His human will. Fully man, Christ had in Himself nqt only the purely human element (the rational will), but also the natural material element He not only was inhumanized, but also incarnated (in Greek: σὰρξ ἐγένετο). The spiritual exploit—the overcoming of the internal temptation—had to be completed with the exploit of the flesh, i.e., of the sensual soul, in the experience of His passion and death: therefore it is that in the Gospel, after the narrative about the temptations in the wilderness, it is stated that the devil departed from Christ for a season. The evil beginning, inwardly conquered by the self-denial of the will, [and] not being admitted into the centre of the human being, yet retained power over its periphery—over the sensual nature; and this latter could be delivered from it also by the process of self-denial—[which in the case of the human body meant] suffering and death. After the human will of Christ freely subjected itself to Ilis Divinity, and thereby subjected to itself the sensual nature of man in Him; and, regardless of the infirmity of the latter (the prayer for the passing of the cup), [the human will of Christ] forced it [the human body] to realize in itself die divine will to the end—in the physical process of suffering and death. Thus in the second Adam has been restored the normal relationship of all the three principles which had been violated by the first Adam. The human beginning, having placed itself in the proper relationship of voluntary subjection to, or accord with, the divine beginning, as its inner good, thereby once more received the significance of the intermediary [or] uniting element between God and nature; and the latter, purified by the death on the cross, lost its material separateness and weight, became a direct expression and instrument of the divine spirit, a true spiritual body. It was with that body that Christ arose [from the dead] and appeared to His Church.

The due relationship between Divinity and nature in humanity, which was reached by the person of Jesus Christ as the spiritual centre or head of mankind, must be assimilated by all of mankind as His body. [↑↑ к началу глав XI и XII ↑↑]

The humanity which has been reunited with its divine beginning through the mediation of Jesus Christ, is the Church; and if in the eternal primordial world the ideal humanity had been the body of the divine Logos, so in the natural world, that has come into existence, the Church appears as the body of the same Logos, only [One who has become] incarnate, i.e., historically individualized in the divine-human personality of Jesus Christ.

This body of Christ, which first appeared as a small embryo in the form of the not very numerous community of the early Christians, gradually grows and develops so as to embrace, at the end of time, all humanity and the whole of nature in one universal organism of God-manhood; because the rest of nature, in the words of the Apostle, is awaiting, with hope, the manifestation of the sons of God; for the creature became subjected to vanity not voluntarily, but by the will of Him who had so subjected it, in the hope, that the creature itself was to be liberated from the enslavement to corruption into the freedom of the glory of the sons of God; for we know that the whole creation groaneth travailing together until now.

This manifestation and glory of the sons of God, hopefully awaited by all creation, is the full realization of the free God-man union in the whole of mankind in all the spheres of its life and activity; all these spheres must be brought into concordant divine-human unity, must become parts of the free theocracy in which the Universal Church will reach the full measure of the stature of Christ. [↑↑ к началу глав XI и XII ↑↑]

Thus, starting from the conception of the Church as the body of Christ (not in the sense of a metaphor, but [in that of] a metaphysical formula), we must remember that this body necessarily grows and develops, consequently changes and becomes perfected. Being the body of Christ, the Church until now is not yet His glorified, fully deified body. The present terrestrial existence of the Church corresponds to the [life of the] body of Jesus on earth (before the resurrection)—of the body which, manifesting in some particular cases miraculous properties (which even at present are manifested in the Church also), yet generally speaking [was] material and subject to death, not free from the infirmities and sufferings of the flesh—for all the infirmities and sufferings of human nature were taken on by Christ. But, as in Christ, all that is weak and earthly was 'swallowed up' in the resurrection of the spiritual body, thus must it be also in the Church, His universal body, when it will have reached its fullness.

The attainment of that state in mankind is conditioned, as in the personality of the God-man, by the self-negation of the human will and a free subjection of it to Divinity.

But if in Christ, as in a single person, the moral exploit of victory over the temptations of evil and of the voluntary subjection to the divine beginning, was pre-eminently an internal action, as a subjective phychological process, then in the aggregate of mankind it has been an objective, historical process—and the objects of temptation, which in the psychological process [were primarily subjective] receive an objective reality, so that a part of mankind actually becomes subject to the temptations of evil and only through their personal experience becomes convinced of the falsity of the ways which were previously rejected by the conscience of the God-man. [↑↑ к началу глав XI и XII ↑↑]

Since the whole of mankind represents the same three substantial elements as a single man—the spirit, the mind, and the sensual soul—the temptations of evil appear for all humanity also to be threefold, but in a sequence different from that [in which they appeared] to the personality of Christ. Humanity has already received the revelation of the divine truth in Christ, it possesses this truth as an actual fact-the first temptation, therefore, is that of a misuse of this truth as such in the name of this same truth, an evil in the name of the good, [which is] the sin of the spirit: a pre-eminently moral evil, i.e., that which was with Christ the last temptation (according to the Gospel of St. Matthew).

Historically, the Christian Church has been composed of all people who have accepted Christ, but Christ can be accepted either inwardly or outwardly.

The inner acceptance of Christ, i.e., of the new spiritual man, consists in the spiritual regeneration, in that birth from above or of the spirit which was spoken of in the discourse with Nicodemus; [it starts] when man, having become aware of the untruth of the fleshly, material life, feels in himself the positive source of the other true life (independent of the flesh as well as of the mind of man), [accepts] the law which was given in the revelation of Christ, and, having acknowledged this new life opened [to man] by Christ as that which unconditionally ought to be [the true life of man], as the good and the truth, voluntarily subjects to it his fleshly and human life, inwardly uniting with Christ as the parent of this new spiritual life [and] the head of the new spiritual kingdom. Such an acceptance of the truth of Christ liberates [man] from sin (although not from sins) and forms [moulds] the new spiritual man. [↑↑ к началу глав XI и XII ↑↑]

But there can be [also] a merely outward acceptance of Christ, a mere acknowledgment of the miraculous incarnation of the Divine Being for the salvation of men, and the acceptance of His commandments in the letter, as an outward, obligatory law. Such external Christianity contains the danger of falling into the first emptation of the evil beginning. That is to say, the historical appearance of Christianity has divided all mankind into two groups: the Christian Church which possesses the divine truth and represents the will of God upon earth—and the world which remains outside of Christianity, has no knowledge of the true God, lieth in evil. Such external Christians, believing in the truth of Christ but not regenerated by it, can feel the need and even assume it to be their duty, to subjugate to Christ and to His Church all that outside and hostile world; and, since the world lying in evil will not voluntarily submit to the sons of God, [they may resolve] to subjugate it by force. Part of the Church, led by the Roman hierarchy, succumbed to that temptation—and dragged with it the majority of Western humanity in the first great period of its historical life, the Middle Ages. The essential falsity of this path [of this type of Christianity] is contained in that hidden unbelief which lies at its root. Indeed, the actual faith in the truth of Christ presupposes that this truth is stronger than the evil which reigns in the world, that it can by its own spiritual [and] moral force subjugate evil, i.e. bring it to [convert it into] the good; [whereas] to assume that the truth of Christ, i.e. the truth of the eternal love and of the unconditional good, for its realization needs alien and even directly opposite means of coercion and deceit, is to profess this truth to be powerless, to profess that evil is stronger than the good; it means not to believe in the good, not to believe in God. And this unbelief, which at first was hidden in Roman Catholicism as an unperceivable embryo was later on clearly revealed. Thus in Jesuitism—that extreme, purest expression of the Catholic principle—the moving force was an outright lust for power, and not the Christian zeal; nations were being brought into subjection not to Christ, but to the Church authority; the people were not asked for a real confession of the Christian faith—the acknowledgment of the Pope [as the head of the Church]—and obedience to the Church authorities, were sufficient.⁶ Here the Christian faith is but a chance form, the essence and the aim is posited in the sovereignty of the hierarchy; but this is a direct self-conviction and self-annihilation [on the part] of the false principle, for here is lost the very foundation of that authority for which [in the name of which] they act.

The falsity of the Catholic way was early recognized in the West, and finally this realization found its full expression in Protestantism. Protestantism rebels against the Catholic way of salvation [regarded and practised] as an external act, and demands a personal religious relation of man to God, a personal faith without any traditional ecclesiastical mediation. But personal faith, as such, i.e., as a merely subjective fact, does not contain in itself any guarantee of its verity—such faith requires a criterion. In the beginning, the Holy Scriptures, i.e., a book, appeared as such a criterion for Protestantism. But a book requires {proper] understanding; for the establishment of the correct understanding, analysis and reasoning are necessary, i.e., the activity of a personal [individual] reason, which, thus, becomes the actual source of the religious truth, so that Protestantism naturally passes into rationalism—a transition which is logically inevitable, and which historically, indubitably has been going on. It would be out of place to present here the momenti of this transition; we shall dwell only upon the general result of this path, i.e., on pure rationalism. It consists essentially in the belief that the human mind is not only a law unto itself but gives laws to all that exists in the practical and social spheres. This principle is expressed in the demand that all life, all political and social relations, be organized and directed exclusively on the foundations worked out by the personal [individual] human mind, regardless of any tradition, of any immediate faith—a demand which permeated all of the so-called enlightenment of the eighteenth century and served as the guiding idea of the first French Revolution. Theoretically, the principle of rationalism is expressed in the claim that the whole content of knowledge can be deduced from pure reason (a priori) or that all branches of science can be construed apperceptively. This claim formed the essence of German philosophy—it was assumed in a naive way by Leibnitz and Wolf, [later on] consciously (although in a modest form and with limitations) set forth by Kant, [then] resolutely declared by Fichte, and finally, with a complete self-confidence and awareness [of what was being asserted], but resulting in a just as complete a failure, [was fully] carried out by Hegel. [↑↑ к началу глав XI и XII ↑↑]

This self-confidence and self-assertion of human reason in life and knowledge is an abnormal phenomenon, it is the pride of the mind: in Protestantism, and in rationalism which issued from it, Western humanity fell into the second temptation. But the falsity of this path was soon manifested in the sharp contradiction between the excessive claims of the reason and its actual impotence. In the practical domain, reason found itself impotent against the passions and [the lower] interests [of the people], and the kingdom of reason proclaimed by the French Revolution ended in a wild chaos of insanity and violence; in the domain of theory, reason found itself impotent against the empirical fact, and the pretention to build a universal science on the principles of pure reason, ended in the construction of a system of empty abstract concepts.

Of course, the failures of the French Revolution and of German philosophy would not in themselves prove the insolvency of rationalism. The point is, however, that the historical downfall of rationalism was only the expression of its inner, logical contradiction, of the contradiction between the relative nature of reason and its unconditional [absolute] claims. Reason is a certain relation (ratio) of things that gives them a certain form. But relationship presupposes the related parties, the form presupposes content; rationalism, however, positing human reason, as such, as the supreme principle, abstracts it thereby from all content, and [therefore] has in reason only an empty form; but at the same time, by virtue of such an abstraction of reason from all content, from all that is given in life and knowledge, all this datum remains for it unreasonable [irrational]. Therefore, when reason comes forth against the actuality of life and knowledge with a consciousness of its own supreme rights, it finds in life everything strange to itself, dark, impermeable, and cannot do anything with it; for, abstracted from all content, changed into an empty concept, reason naturally cannot have any power over actuality. Thus the self-elevation of human reason, the pride of the mind, at the end inevitably leads to its downfall and abasement.

The falsity of this path, cognated through experience, was acknowledged by Western humanity; but it freed itself from it only to fall into the third and last temptation. [↑↑ к началу глав XI и XII ↑↑]

Human reason could master neither the passions and the lower human interests in life, nor the facts of the empirical reality, in science; i.e., in life and in science it found itself opposed by the material beginning; was it not right to conclude from this that the material element in life and knowledge—the animal nature of man, the material mechanism of the world—[is precisely what] forms the true essence of all, [and] that the aims of life and science really consist of the maximum possible satisfaction of material needs and the greatest possible knowledge of empirical facts? And, behold, indeed, the dominion of rationalism in European politics and science is replaced with the preponderance of materialism and empiricism. This path has not been traversed to the end as yet, but its falsity has been already recognized by the leading minds in the West itself. Just as the previous path, this one also falls the victim of its inner contradiction. Starting from the material element, the element of discord and chance, they wish to reach unity and integrity, to organize a right human society and a universal science. At the same time the material aspect of existence, the cravings and passions of human nature, the facts of external experience, all these comprise only a general foundation of life and knowledge, the material of which they are formed; but in order that anything might be really created out of this material, a formative, uniting principle and a form of unity are necessary. And if it has already been shown that human reason cannot serve as such a formative principle, and [that] in its abstractness, [it] contains no real form of unity; if it has been shown that the principle of rationalism cannot form either a right commonwealth or a true science: it follows that it is necessary to have recourse to another, more powerful principle of unity—but by no means that it is necessary to be content with the material side of life and knowledge, which by itself cannot form either the human society or science. Therefore, when we see that economic socialism wishes to place the material interests at the foundation of the whole society, and positivism, the empirical knowledge as the basis of all science: then we can foretell in advance the failure of both of these systems with the same certitude with which we should assert that a pile of stones by itself, without an architect and a plan, will not compose itself into a correctly built] purposeful building.

An attempt actually to place the material beginning alone at the foundation of life and knowledge, an attempt to realize, in fact and in full, the lie that man shall live by bread alone, such an attempt would perforce lead to the disintegration of mankind, to the destruction of society and science, to a universal chaos. To what extent Western humanity, which has fallen into the last temptation of the evil beginning, is destined to experience all those consequences—cannot be said in advance. In any event, having learned by experience the falsehood of the three 'broad ways', having experienced the deceitfulness of the three great temptations, Western humanity sooner or later must turn to the truth of Godmanhood. From whence, then, and in what form will this truth now appear? And, first of all, is this conscious but involuntary conversion to the truth, through actual experience of every falsehood, the only possible path for mankind?

As a matter of fact, not all Christian humanity has followed that path. It was chosen by Rome and the Germano-Romanic nations which accepted the Roman culture. The East, i.e., Byzantium and the nations (with Russia at their head) which received the Byzantine culture, remained aside. [↑↑ к началу глав XI и XII ↑↑]

The East did not fall into the three temptations of the evil beginning—it preserved the truth of Christ; but keeping it in the soul of her nations, the Eastern Church has not realized it in external actuality, has not given it expression in factual reality, has not created a Christian culture in the same manner as the West has created an anti-Christian culture. And it [the Eastern Church] could not have created it, it could not have realized the Christian truth. For what must we understand under such a realization, what is a truly Christian culture? The establishment in the whole of human society and in all its activities, of such a relationship among the three elements of the human being as was realized individually in the person of Christ. This relationship, as we know, consists of the free co-ordination of the two lower elements (the rational and the material) with the higher, the divine beginning, by their voluntary subjection to it; not as to [a coercive] force but as to the good. For such a free subjection of the lower elements to the higher beginning, in order that they may of themselves come to the recognition of the higher beginning as the good, it is necessary they be independent. Otherwise the truth would not have anything on which it could manifest its action, in which it could become actualized. But in the Orthodox Church the enormous majority of its members were captivated into obedience to the truth through an immediate [direct] inclination, not through a conscious [reflective] process in their inner lives. The really human element, in consequence, proved in the [Eastern] Christian society to be too weak and insufficient for a free and rational carrying out of the divine beginning into the external actuality—and as a result of this, the latter (i.e., the material actuality) remained outside of the divine beginning, and the Christian consciousness was not free from a certain dualism between [its attitude towards] God and [towards] the world. Thus the Christian truth, mutilated and finally repudiated by Western man, remained imperfect in the man of the East. This imperfection, conditioned by the weakness of the human element (reason and personality), could be removed only with the full development of the latter—the task which fell to the lot of the West. Thus, the great Western development, negative in its direct results, indirectly has had a positive value and purpose.

If the true society of Godmanhood, created in the image and likeness of the God-man Himself, ought to represent a free concordance of the divine and human beginnings, then, obviously, it is conditioned by the active force of the first as well as by the co-operative force of the second. Consequently, it is required that society would, first, present the divine beginning (the truth of Christ) in all of its purity and, second, develop the principle of human initiative in all its fullness. But by the law of the development or of the growth of the body of Christ, a concomitant fulfilment of these two demands—as the highest ideal of society—could not be given all at once, but had to be attained [gradually]. That is to say, before the perfect unity [is reached], appears disunity, the disunity which, with the [general] solidarity of mankind, and the law of the division of histoncal functions following from it, was expressed as a partition of the Christian world into two halves, in which the East with all the forces of its spirit was attached to the divine [beginning] and preserved it, working out in itself the conservative and ascetic attitude necessary for that [function]; while the West applied its whole energy to the development of the human element, which was necessarily detrimental to the [conservation] of the divine truth, which was at first mutilated and then altogether repudiated. The above makes it clear that the two historical trends, far from excluding each other, have been absolutely necessary to each other and for the 'fullness of the stature of Christ' in all humanity; for if history were limited to the Western development only, if the immovable and unconditional principle of the Christian truth did not stand behind this uninterrupted stream of movements [which were] replacing one another, and of principles [which were] mutually destructive, the whole Western development would have been devoid of any positive sense, and modern history would have ended in decadence and chaos. On the other hand, had history included only the Byzantine Christianity, the truth of Christ (Godmanhood) would have remained imperfect, in the absence of a [developed] human element of free initiative and activity necessary for its perfection. As it is, however, the divine element of Christianity, preserved by the East, can now reach its perfection in mankind, for now it has the material upon which it can act, in which it can manifest its internal force: namely, the human element which has been emancipated and developed in the West. And this has not only an historical, but also a mystical, meaning. [↑↑ к началу глав XI и XII ↑↑]

If the overshadowing that descended upon the human Mother with the active power of God, produced the incarnation of Divinity; then the fertilization of the divine Mother (the Church) by the active human beginning must produce a free deification of humanity. Before Christianity, the natural principle in humanity represented the datum (the fact), Divinity represented the unknown (the ideal), and as the unknown, acted (ideally) on man. In Christ the unknown was given, the ideal became a fact, became an event, the active divine beginning became material. The Word became flesh, and this new flesh is the divine substance of the Church. Before Christianity, the immovable basis of life was human nature (the ancient Adam), while the divine was the principle of change, motion, progress; after Christianity, on the contrary, the divine, as incarnate, becomes the immovable foundation the stratum of the life of humanity, while humanity appears as the unknown—[that part of humanity] which would correspond to the divine, i.e., which is capable of uniting with it of itself, [and] assimilating it. As the sought [the ideal], this ideal humanity appears as the active beginning [force] of history, the element of motion, of progress. And, as in the pre-Christian course of history, human nature or the natural clement of mankind represented the basis, matter, the divine mind, (in Greek: ὁ λόγος τοῦ θεοῦ), represented the active and formative principle; and God-man, i.e., God who has adopted human nature, was the result (the offspring): so in the process of Christianity the divine nature or the divine stratum (the Word which became flesh, as well as the body of Christ, the Sophia) appears as the foundation or matter, while human reason appears as the active and formative principle; and the man-God, i.e., man who adopted Divinity, appears as the result. And, since man can receive Divinity only in his absolute totality, i.e., in union with all, the man-God is necessarily collective and universal, i.e., [it is] the all-humanity [the whole of mankind] or the Universal Church [that receives Divinity]; the God-man is individual, the man-God is universal. Thus the radius is one and the same for the whole circumference at any one of its points, and consequently it is itself the beginning of a circle; while the points on the periphery form the circle only in their totality. In the history of Christianity, the immovable divine foundation in humanity is represented by the Eastern Church, while the Western world is the representative of the human element. And here also, before reason could become the fertilizing principle of the Church, it had to move away from it in order that it might be at liberty to develop all its powers; after the human element was completely segregated, and then in that separateness became aware of its helplessness, it will be able to enter into a free union with the divine foundation of Christianity, which has been preserved in the Eastern Church—and, in consequence of that free union, to give birth to the spiritual mankind. [↑↑ к началу глав XI и XII ↑↑]

Примечания

[1] Если признано верховное значение человека как такого, его самозаконность, то отсюда само собою вытекает признание его свободы, так как ничто не может иметь власть над ним, источником всякой власти; а так как свойство быть человеком одинаково принадлежит всем людям, то отсюда же вытекает и равенство.

[2] При этом совершенно безразлично, отдельный ли человек, или большинство народа, или даже большинство всего человечества заявляют притязание на такую власть, потому что количество само по себе, очевидно, не дает никакого нравственного права, и масса как масса не представляет никакого внутреннего преимущества (если же говорить об удобстве, то, без всякого сомнения, деспотизм одного гораздо удобнее деспотизма массы: ούυκ άγαθόν πολυκοιρανί είς κοίρανος έστω).

[3] Предвосхищение основания, вывод из недоказанного (лат.).

[4] Т.е.: Если разум наш имеет объективную силу, если должно существовать объективное знание и наука, то и т.д.

[5] Противоречие в определении (лат.).

[6] См. перевод Санхъя-Карики, приложенный к известной книге Кольбрука об индийской философии во французском переводе Потье.

[7] Вдоволь на земле произрастает хлеба // Для всех сынов человеческих, // Но красоты и радости миртов и роз // И сахарного порошка от этого не убудет (нем.). Цитата из стихотворения Г.Гейне.

[8] Благое пожелание (лат.).

[9] См.: Eugиne Burnouf. Introduction dans l'histoire du Bouddhisme indien».

[10] Здесь мы имеем пока в виду только их отношение между собою и к тому внешнему феноменальному бытию, для которого они суть основы и центры. По отношению же к абсолютному существу они не могут иметь значения безусловно реальных центров: для него они являются проницаемыми, поскольку они сами в нем коренятся. Поэтому, говоря о неделимых единицах, или атомах, мы употребляем только относительное определение.

[11] Разумеется, я беру здесь этот афоризм в его общем значении для пояснения своей мысли, не входя в рассмотрение того специального смысла, который может ему принадлежать в системе самого Спинозы.

[12] На смешении идеи с понятиями основан, между прочим, знаменитый в схоластике спор номиналистов и реалистов. Обе стороны были, в сущности, правы. Номиналисты, утверждавшие universalia post res, разумели первоначально под universalia общие понятия и в этом смысле справедливо доказывали их несамостоятельность и бессодержательность, хотя, определяя их как только nomina или voces, впадали в очевидную крайность. С другой стороны, реалисты, утверждавшие universalia ante res, разумели под ними настоящие идеи и потому основательно приписывали им самостоятельное бытие. Но так как обе стороны плохо различали эти два значения слова universalia или, во всяком случае, не определяли этого различия с достаточною точностью, то между ними и должны были возникнуть нескончаемые споры.

[13] Исх.3:14. Синодальный перевод «Я есмь Сущий».

[14] По всей вероятности, здесь будущее ehjeh есть только замена настоящего, которого для этого глагола нет в еврейском языке. Толкования этих слов, предполагающие здесь прямое значение будущего времени и видящие в этом указание на грядущие откровения Божии, кажутся нам весьма натянутыми. Во всяком случае, понятие о Боге как о чистом я с достаточною ясностью высказывается в Ветхом Завете и помимо приведенного изречения, так что то или другое понимание этого последнего не имеет для нас большого значения.

[15] Поэтому, давая абсолютной идее нравственное определение любви, мы имели в виду полную истину идеализма, а не одностороннее его выражение в греческом мировоззрении: для этого последнего абсолютное качество было не благость или любовь, а только благо, т.е. опять-таки лишь объект.

[16] Выражение: три божественные или три начальные ипостаси есть собственное выражение Плотина, причем, разумеется, оно имеет свой философский смысл, а не христианский.

[17] Что касается вообще до формул этого догмата, установленных церковью на Вселенских соборах против Ария, Евномия и Македония, то, будучи, как мы увидим, вполне истинными и с умозрительной точки зрения, эти формулы ограничиваются, понятно, лишь самыми общими определениями и категориями, каковы единосущие, равенство и т.д.; метафизическое же развитие этих определений и, следовательно, умозрительное содержание этих формул, естественно, было предоставлено церковию свободной деятельности богословия и философии, и несомненно, что к этим определениям может быть сведено и этими православными формулами покрывается все существенное содержание александрийских умозрений о трех ипостасях, разумеется, если смотреть на мысли, а не привязываться к одним словам. С другой стороны, для полного логического уяснения этого основного догмата неоценимым средством могут служить нам те определения чистой логической мысли, которые с таким совершенством были развиты в новейшей германской философии, которая с этой формальной стороны имеет для нас то же значение, какое для древних богословов имели доктрины Академии и Ликея; и те, кто теперь восстают против введения этого философского элемента в религиозную область, должны были бы сначала отвергнуть всю прежнюю историю христианского богословия, которое, можно сказать, питалось Платоном и Аристотелем.

[18] Выражение св. Иустина о некоторых греческих философах. Хотя тесная внутренняя связь между александрийскою теософией и христианским учением есть одно из твердо установленных положений западной науки, но так как в нашей богословской литературе по тем или другим причинам это вполне достоверное положение не пользуется общим признанием, то я считаю нужным в конце этих чтений посвятить этому вопросу особое приложение, в котором мне придется также коснуться значения туземной египетской теософии (откровений Тота или Гермеса) в ее отношении к обоим названным учениям.

[19] Этому не противоречат те выражения, в которых глагол быть сам, по-видимому, играет роль сказуемого, именно когда утверждается простое существование чего-нибудь. Дело в том, что это есть лишь способ выражения для отвлекающей мысли, причем вовсе и не имеется в виду выражать полную истину предмета. Так, например, если я скажу просто: дьявол есть или есть дьявол, то хотя здесь и не говорю, что такое есть дьявол, но вместе с тем не хочу сказать и того, чтобы он не был чем-нибудь, я здесь никак не предполагаю, чтобы он только был или был только сущим, субъектом без всякого объективного качественного определения, безо всякой сущности или содержания, я здесь только не останавливаюсь на вопросе об этой сущности или содержании, ограничиваясь указанием лишь на самое существование этого субъекта. Таким образом, подобные выражения представляют лишь опущение настоящего сказуемого, а никак не отрицание его или отождествление с простым бытием.

[20] В этом заключается глубоко верный смысл знаменитого Гегелева парадокса, которым начинается его логика, именно, что бытие, как такое, т.е. чистое, пустое бытие, тождественно со своим противуположным, или есть ничто.

[21] Разумеется, эта аналогия неполная, поскольку наше художественное творчество предполагает некоторое пассивное состояние вдохновения или внутреннего восприятия, в котором художник не обладает, а бывает обладаем своею идеей. В этом смысле справедливы слова поэта:
      Тщетно мнишь ты, художник,
      Что творений своих ты создатель, и проч.

[22] Эта способность анализа, необходимая как средство или как переход к цельному, но сознательному мировоззрению от инстинктивного народного разума, но совершенно бесплодная или и вредная, если ею ограничиваться, составляет именно в этой ограниченности настоящую гордость людей полуобразованных (к которым принадлежит и большинство ученых специалистов, в наше время мало что понимающих вне своей специальности) гордость перед непросвещенными массами, погруженными в суеверия, а также и перед настоящими философами, преданными мистическим фантазиям. Впрочем, значение этих беспочвенных отрицателей так же призрачно, как их знание поверхностно.

[23] Говоря о религиозных верованиях как о произведении органического мышления, должно помнить, что это мышление основано на идеальном созерцании и это последнее, как было указано в предыдущем чтении, не есть субъективный процесс, а действительное отношение к миру идеальных существ или взаимодействие с ними; следовательно, результаты этого созерцания не суть произведения субъективного произвольного творчества, не суть выдумки и фантазии, а суть действительные откровения сверхчеловеческой действительности, воспринятые человеком в той или другой форме.

[24] Это утверждает и Гегель в своей истории философии.

[25] Иррациональное не в смысле неразумного, а в смысле не подлежащего разуму, несоизмеримого с ним; ибо неразумность есть противоречие между понятиями, следовательно, принадлежит к области разума, судится и осуждается им, та же сторона бытия, о которой мы говорим, именно находится вне пределов разума и, следовательно, не может быть ни разумной, ни неразумной, так же, как, например, вкус лимона не может быть ни белым, ни черным.

[26] Если наше мышление по отношению ко внешней реальности есть нечто субъективное, то по отношению к нашей воле оно представляет элемент объективный. Очевидно, эти определения совершенно относительны.

[27] Такие слова, как тело и материя, мы употребляем здесь, разумеется, лишь в самом общем смысле, как относительные категории, не соединяя с ними тех частных представлений, которые могут иметь место лишь в применении к нашему вещественному миру, но совершенно немыслимы в отношении к Божеству.

[28] Говоря о вечности каждой человеческой особи в указанном смысле, мы по существу дела не утверждаем здесь чего-либо совершенно нового, тем более противоречащего признанным религиозным положениям. Христианские богословы и философы, рассуждавшие о происхождении мира, всегда различали между конечным явлением мира в пространстве и времени и вечным существованием идеи мира в Божественной мысли, т.е. Логосе, причем должно помнить, что в Боге как вечной реальности идея мира не может быть представляема как нечто отвлеченное, а необходимо представляется как вечно реальное.

[29] Это нисколько не противоречит той несомненной истине, что все акты воли определяются мотивами. В самом деле, всякий мотив вызывает определенный акт воли только потому, что действует на это определенное существо; это есть только побуждение, вызывающее известное существо к самостоятельному действию соответственно собственному характеру этого существа; если бы было иначе, если бы все дело зависело безусловно от мотива, то данный мотив производил бы свое действие одинаково на всякую волю, в действительности же мы видим не то, ибо один и тот же мотив, например, чувственное удовольствие, побуждает при известных условиях одно существо к действию, а на другое при тех же самых условиях совсем не действует или же вызывает к сопротивлению и отвержению мотива, т.е. для одной воли это есть действительный положительный мотив, для другой же нет. Следовательно, действительность мотивов, т.е. их способность вызывать в субъекте известный акт воли, первоначально зависит от самого же субъекта. Действующая сила принадлежит не мотиву самому по себе, а той воле, на которую он действует и которая, таким образом, и есть прямая причина и существенное основание действия. Если я хорошо действую, находясь под влиянием хороших мотивов, то ведь сами эти хорошие мотивы как такие могут иметь на меня влияние только потому, что я вообще способен хорошо действовать, иначе они были бы надо мною бессильны. Таким образом, мотивами определяется не сама действующая воля в своем качестве и направлении (от которых, напротив, зависит действительность самого мотива), а только вызывается факт обнаружения этой воли в данный момент, другими словами, мотивы суть только поводы для действия воли, производящая же причина всякого действия есть самая воля, или, точнее, сам субъект как волящий, т.е. начинающий действие из себя или от себя. Всякий акт воли не есть действие мотива, а воздействие субъекта на мотив, определяемое собственным характером субъекта.

[30] «Матерь жизни» (греч.) — формула из греческого тропаря в чинопоследовании праздника Успения Богородицы; в славянском переводе: «мати сущи живота...»

[31] Например, во сне мы несомненно представляем себя в известном пространстве, и все, что во сне совершается, все образы и картины сновидений представляются в пространственной форме.

[32] Если пространство есть форма внешнего единства природного мира и условие механического взаимодействия существ, то время есть форма внутреннего объединения и условие для восстановления органической связи существующего, которая в природе, не будучи данною, по необходимости является достигаемою, т.е. как процесс.

[33] Латинское слово natura (имеющая родиться) весьма выразительно для обозначения мировой души; ибо она в самом деле еще не существует как действительный субъект всеединства в этом качестве она еще имеет родиться.

[34] Говоря определеннее, образующие начала материальной природы, существующие и действующие в ней силы единства, которые человеческий дух первоначально имел в себе и под собою как свой базис (поскольку и сознание человеческое возникло генетически из того же мирового процесса), эти силы теперь (вследствие падения человека) являются вне его и над ним и, постепенно вступая в сознание (в теогоническом процессе), овладевают им как силы высшие, или божественные.

[35] В 3-м, 4-м и 5-м чтениях.

[36] Это определение, вытекающее из нашего понятия о духовном человеке, или втором Адаме, безусловно тождественно с догматическими определениями Вселенских соборов VII веков, выработанными против ересей несторианской, монофизитской и монофелитской, из коих каждая представляет прямое противоречие одному из трех существенных логических условий для истинной идеи Христа.

[37] Чтобы пояснить это сравнением из природного мира человек как существо сравнительно высшее, действуя на какое-нибудь низшее животное, не может явиться ему во всей полноте своей человеческой жизни; но те ограниченные формы, в которых, например, собака воспринимает явление своего хозяина, принадлежат только уму животного, нисколько не ограничивая и не изменяя собственное бытие воспринимаемого им человека.

[38] Эти слова иногда понимаются так, будто Христос говорит искусителю: не искушай Меня, так как Я Господь Бог твой. Но это не имело бы никакого смысла, потому что Христос подвергается искушению не как Бог, а как человек. На самом же деле второе возражение Христа, так же как и первое, представляет прямой ответ на то, что предлагается искусителем: предлагается дерзновенным действием искусить Бога, и против этого, как и против первого предложения, Христос ссылается на Писание, запрещающее искушать Бога.

[39] Несколько лет тому назад в Париже мне пришлось слышать от одного французского иезуита следующее рассуждение: Конечно, в настоящее время никто не может верить в большую часть христианских догматов, например, в Божество Христа. Но вы согласитесь, что цивилизованное человеческое общество не может существовать без твердого авторитета и прочно организованной иерархии, но таким авторитетом и такою иерархиею обладает только католическая церковь, поэтому всякий просвещенный человек, дорожащий интересами человечества, должен стоять на стороне католической церкви, т.е. должен быть католиком.

See also

• Texts. Bulgakov, Sergei. Orthodoxy. The Sanctity of the Church
• Texts. Berdyaev, Nikolai. The Kingdom of God and the Kingdom of Caesar
• Texts. Berdyaev, Nikolai. The Religion of Communism
• Texts. Augustine of Hippo. The City of God. Bk.XX
• Texts. Seraphim of Sarov. On Acquisition of the Holy Spirit

Links

• Wikipedia: Vladimir Solovyov (philosopher)
• Nikolai Berdyaev, Idea of God-manhood in Vl. Solov'ev

Bibliography

• Vladimir Solovyov, Lectures on Godmanhood
• Divine Sophia: The Wisdom Writings of Vladimir Solovyov on Amazon.com
• "Vladimir Solovyov" на Google Books