I’ve recently become aware that mysticism1 has a dark side to it.
The dark side is exemplified by Miguel de Molinos, a popular teacher of prayer in seventeenth-century Rome. He was an ordained priest and held a doctorate, yet dozens of his statements were condemned as heretical, and he was a notorious womanizer. A few years after Molinos’ death, Christian Gottfried Franckenstein said of him:2
Ses mœurs étoient aussi corrompues que sa foy, il abusoit les plus belles femmes & filles auprés desquelles il avoit accéz, leur persuadant que la paillardise n’étoit pas un peché quand on le faisoit sans scandale.
His morals were as corrupt as his faith: he abused the most beautiful women and girls to whom he had access, persuading them that debauchery wasn’t a sin when one did it without scandal.
Miguel de Molinos and a beautiful woman as imagined by Grok
He documented his teachings in The Spiritual Guide. Miguel de Molinos regarded the prayer of quiet (i.e. prayer that has been prolonged to the extent that there are no longer any words) as the only form of prayer that was worthwhile. He went on to say that internal quiet should be your normal condition in everyday life:
Turn to quiet yourself whenever you become disturbed, for all the divine Lord wants from you is that you repose in your soul and make a rich throne of peace there.
The phrase “all the divine Lord wants from you” indicates his hierarchy of values. Your internal peace is to take priority over all other considerations.
This is confirmed by other passages. When William James described Miguel de Molinos as a “spiritual genius,”3 he cited the statement: “When thou fallest into a fault, in what matter soever it be, do not trouble nor afflict thy self for it.” In other words, William James is underlining Molinos’ assertion that the best way to deal with feelings of guilt or remorse is to dismiss them.
Prioritizing your inner peace over ethical considerations was already known to be problematic in the fourth century. John Cassian describes a peaceful but amoral condition he calls the pax perniciosa or “dangerous peace.”4 He says that a conflict between flesh and spirit is actually healthy:
Hanc pugnam utiliter nostris quoque membris insertam, etiam in Apostolo ita legimus (ad Gal. V). Caro enim concupiscit adversus spiritum, spiritus autem adversus carnem. Haec autem invicem adversantur sibi, ut non quaecumque vultis, illa faciatis. . . . Et est quodammodo utilis haec pugna dispensatione Dei nobis inserta, et ad meliorem nos statum provocans atque compellens, qua sublata proculdubio pax econtrario perniciosa succedet.
In the English translation of Boniface Ramsey:
We also read in the Apostle that this conflict has been set in our members too for our advantage: “For the desire of the flesh is against the spirit, and that of the spirit against the flesh. But these are opposed to one another, so that you may not do what you want to do” (Galatians 5:17). . . . This conflict, which is beneficial in some way, has been put in us by the Creator’s design, provoking and compelling us to a better condition. If it were removed there is little doubt that a dangerous repose [pax perniciosa] would take its place.
Now that we’ve seen the conflict between Miguel de Molinos’ teachings and Christian values, we must address the larger question as to whether mysticism really belongs in the Christian tradition at all.
Some time ago, I came across a statement by Karl Barth that Christian mysticism conveys “a different spirit than the Spirit of Christ.” (I wish I could find a source for that quotation, but I can't.) I have to say that I agree with Barth. The whole flavor of Christian mysticism is different from the flavor of the New Testament.
Once I looked into this question, I discovered even more problems with mysticism.
Mysticism makes claims that appear to be deceptive. You’re told that you’ll realize Oneness, you’ll realize the nature of Ultimate Reality, you’ll realize nonduality, you’ll attain union with God, and so on. But there’s a more down-to-earth explanation for mystical experiences. You’re not really attaining union with God or realizing Ultimate Reality. All you’re really doing is regressing into early layers of your own mind.
Chapter 1 of Freud’s essay Civilization and Its Discontents5 explains how this works. Freud’s friend Romain Rolland routinely experienced a sense of timelessness and limitlessness Freud dubbed the “oceanic” feeling. All that feeling really is, says Freud, is very early consciousness, which you can characterize as a sort of undifferentiated narcissistic bliss. All subsequent development — the sense of self, the acquisition of language, the development of abstract thought, and so on — takes place on top of this primitive layer.
It’s possible for any of us to reconnect with the original oceanic feeling. Freud compares developmental psychology with the way the city of Rome was built up in layers. Rome started out as a small square settlement called Roma Quadrata. Even today, after centuries of building and rebuilding, you can still see traces of Roma Quadrata here and there. Freud compares human development with these centuries of urban development. And another friend of Freud’s, familiar with Eastern practices, confirmed that all yogic exercises really do is to bring about regression to the earliest layers of the mind.
This idea that you’re attaining some sort of metaphysical oneness is therefore, according to this psychological view, a complete misconception.
This is not to say that spiritual disciplines are useless. Periods of solitude can be refreshing. Regularly sitting still with your eyes closed has been proven to alleviate anxiety. Controlled regression can have psychotherapeutic value. And of course the Christian life could not exist at all without some kind of self-awareness: you must have at least some level of self-awareness to repent of your past sins.
My point is simply to ask for honesty about the mechanism and outcome of mystical practices. Many of the practices that seem foreign to the New Testament actually are foreign to the New Testament.
A couple of centuries after the New Testament, Plotinus created a system of philosophy we call Neoplatonism. (That wasn’t his name for it; that’s our name for it.) In Neoplatonism, there is no Creator and creation. Instead, Plotinus starts from what he calls the One. This One produces the apparent multiplicity of things by a process called emanation. The highest purpose of life, says Plotinus, is to contemplate the One until you find your way back to the One.
Unfortunately some third- and fourth-century Christians were unwittingly influenced by Neoplatonism. They adopted Plotinus’ ideas but dressed them up in Christian vocabulary. Instead of union with the One, they aimed for union with God. According to them, the highest Christian ideal is to withdraw your attention from visible reality and to contemplate “God” alone until you find your way back to “union with God.” (I use quotes because that’s their way of putting of it, not mine.) For Meister Eckhart, finding your way back to the One is expressed as finding your way back to the “ground of your being.” The Christian mystical tradition is just Neoplatonism in disguise.
A repeated maneuver is the dubious habit of equating God with your own consciousness — which is certainly not what the Bible means by God. So while the Christian mystical tradition may look like Christianity, it certainly isn’t Biblical Christianity. It’s a foreign philosophy pretending to be Christianity.
Neoplatonism also provides a basis for occultism. It’s interesting that mysticism comes from a Greek word meaning something hidden, while occultism comes from a Latin word meaning something hidden. The mystic and the occultist swim in the same ocean.
Jesse Finley Hurley’s Sorcery claims that occultism can be explained quasi-scientifically by combining modern psychology with Neoplatonism. In Hurley’s explanation, orders from the conscious mind are delivered via the unconsciousness mind out to the universal mind. He cites phenomena such as telepathy and hypnosis in support of his theory of a universal mind.
Detail of The Love Potion (1903) by Evelyn De Morgan
I’ve observed that people who think life’s goal is to reach regressive, introverted states tend to become less and less functional in their external lives. I am a great admirer of Bernadette Roberts, but I have to admit that her external life does not look good. Her career failed, her marriage failed, and her finances failed. If you completely withdraw your attention and interest from your surroundings, that’s what happens. Life requires that we give care and attention to external reality. Extreme introversion impairs our ability to do this.
There are many traps into which the unwary can fall. Bernadette Roberts notes that people halfway along the path often get fixated on identifying with the archetypes of the collective unconscious: guru, sage, guide, healer, and so on.6 There they remain stuck. Heinz Kohut observes that those who believe themelves to have become their ego ideal can no longer feel guilt.7
Identification with an archetype or with the ego ideal leads to the persona of the cult leader. An individual whose awareness extends deep into the mind develops a charismatic presence and draws others to themselves. Miguel de Molinos certainly attracted and influenced large numbers of followers. When you combine supreme self-confidence with an inability to feel guilt, you have the malignant narcissist.
The fact that people addicted to dwelling in regressive states cannot earn a living in the normal way makes it all the more tempting for them to gather supposed “students” around themselves and launch a “guru business.” One wonders how many people really benefit from attending these schools from which students rarely graduate. The most likely outcome is years of indolence with little to show for it. The only exception is the rare instance where a buyer turns around and becomes a seller.
A surprising number of cult leaders have augmented their natural charisma by deliberately studying hypnotic techniques. These include little-known techniques such as “fascination,” which is done with the eyes only, and does not require the verbal suggestion or peer pressure familiar from the repertoire of the stage hypnotist.
Whether or not the hypnosis is deliberate, there are plenty of reports of gurus using hypnotic or occultic powers — there does not appear to be a firm division between the two — to draw in followers. Swami Śivānanda Rādhā (Sylvia Hellman) first saw her guru, Swami Śivānanda, in a vision during meditation. Guru Viking reports that the 16th Karmapa many times appeared to prospective followers in dreams.8 He comments that such exotic experiences easily convince followers that they have now found “the truth.”
I said at the start of this talk that I’m not necessarily condemning mysticism or mystics as a whole. I simply want to point out some pitfalls and dangers which, once seen, cannot be ignored.
Still, it’s remarkable how frequently mystics do fall into one or more of these traps.
I often wonder whether this is what Jesus is talking about in the parable of the empty house (Matthew 12:43–45; Luke 11:24–26). If your spirituality consists solely of making yourself empty, and you don’t fill yourself up with something positive, you end up with more demons than the ones you started with.9
1 Our English word “mysticism” is derived from Περὶ μυστικῆς θεολογίας (Concerning Mystical Theology). Its unknown author wrote under the name Dionysius the Areopagite. This is not the original Dionysius the Areopagite mentioned in Acts 17:34; it is someone using his name about 500 years later. The pseudo-Dionysius describes God as “hidden” in the silence within us. His word μυστικός comes from the Greek verbal root μύω meaning conceal, while the related noun μυστήριον (which occurs in the New Testament) means something hidden. So mysticism is the idea that God is hidden in the deep places within us and that it is possible to reach union with God by extended dwelling in this stillness. By extension, mysticism in a broader sense means any practice that cultivates extreme introversion, along with the idea that this will produce some sort of divine or metaphysical union. In Eastern philosophy, this withdrawal from sensory reality is called pratyāhāra (Yoga Sūtra 2.54).
2 Histoire des intrigues galantes de la reine Christine de Suède.
3 The Varieties of Religious Experience.
4 Conferences 4.7.
5 Original German title Das Unbehagen in der Kultur.
6 Essays on the Christian Contemplative Journey.
7 In John E. Gedo and George H. Pollock, eds., Freud: The Fusion of Science and Humanism.
8 YouTube interview, “Gurus, Hypnosis, & Toxic Devotion.”
9 You may or may not be comfortable with the Biblical terminology whereby “demons” are held responsible for the dark side of mysticism. If not, you can always psychologize the darkness and give it an explanation such as “unintegrated personality fragments resulting from preverbal trauma.”