Read an Excerpt

From
the Introduction

If
one single theme has dominated the history of the past century, it is loss of
faith. The implacable course of events has cast doubt upon progress,
civilization, political and economic systems, even the essential decency of
human nature. Christianity has not been spared. Starting in the nineteenth
century, science began to show that the earth had been born not six thousand
years in the past, as the Bible seemed to suggest, but billions of years ago.
Even the Gospels themselves no longer seemed like Gospel truth, as historical
and critical methods revealed that much in the life of Christ was not
historical fact but myths and legends that attached themselves to him after his
time.

These
developments have drawn forth a complex array of reactions from clergy and
laity alike. Some have actively rejected this knowledge, taking refuge in
traditionalism and fundamentalism. Others have tried to integrate the new
perspectives into their religious life, only to be left with a vague and
unsatisfying liberal faith. Still others are disaffected from religion in
general or simply bewildered.

Whatever
course we choose, one thing becomes obvious: it is now next to impossible to
take faith unreflectively. We no longer live in a conceptual world framed by
the comforting certainties of church doctrine and the literal truth of the
Bible. And yet, as disorienting and disillusioning as the process of modern
inquiry has been, it has not destroyed the religious search but has invigorated
it. Rather than contenting themselves with secondhand truths, people have begun
to ask how they themselves can know the presence of the divine.

This
impulse has fed the explosion of New Age religions, alternative spiritualities,
and traditions brought over from the East that we have seen in recent decades.
Many of these religions, both new and newly imported, stress enlightenment as a
goal. They say that our ordinary state of consciousness is not the highest one
of which we are capable, but a low-grade, delusory state. Spiritual disciplines
such as meditation can free us from this oblivion and restore us to our full
birthright as human beings.

On
a parallel course, the perennial interest in Christian origins has led scholars
to reexamine many ancient texts and to unearth new ones: the Dead Sea Scrolls
and the Nag Hammadi Library are the most famous examples. Some of these works
suggest that early Christians not only reached insights similar to those of the
Eastern religions but also had a sophisticated understanding of human
consciousness in their own right. Many were concerned with what they called
gnosis,
a
word that means "knowledge" in Greek. This is knowledge of a very
specific kind—direct, intuitive knowing that surpasses ordinary reason and
confers spiritual liberation. Gnosis strongly resembles enlightenment as
portrayed in Hinduism and Buddhism.

Although
interest in these ancient teachings is considerable, many people assume the
teachings were lost long ago, the victims of official suppression and popular
neglect. But in fact careful investigation shows that these truths have always
been kept alive in the Christian tradition and indeed have fed the life of
Western civilization like a great underground stream that only rarely rises to
the surface. There have always been teachers and groups that have managed to
reach these states of higher consciousness and have passed their knowledge on
to the present.

Knowledge
that liberates consciousness is often described as
esoteric.
The
word "esoteric" is somewhat forbidding, usually connoting something
obscure, exotic, and irrelevant to daily life—in short, something "far
out." But etymologically the word means exactly the opposite: it comes
from the Greek
esotero,
which
means "further in." You have to go "further in" yourself to
understand what this knowledge is about. In this book I will use the terms
"inner Christianity" and "esoteric Christianity"
interchangeably.

Esotericism
teaches that this world within us is as rich and diverse as the outer world and
consists of many different levels of being. Furthermore, these levels exist in
a more or less objective way: those familiar with them can discuss them
intelligibly with each other and will find that their experiences are
essentially similar, much as everyone will say a ball is round. Although these
levels stand between us and God, they do so not as obstacles but as way
stations. Christ said, "In my Father's house are many mansions" (John
14:2).

The
Greek word here translated as "mansions" literally means "way
stations."

Some
thinkers differentiate the
esoteric
from
the
mystical,
a
distinction that can be useful as long as one is not too rigid about it.
Esotericism is characterized by an interest in these different levels of
consciousness and being. Mysticism is not quite so concerned with these
intermediate states; it focuses on reaching God in the most direct and
immediate way. The mystic wants to reach his destination as quickly as
possible; the esotericist wants to learn something about the landscape on the
way. Moreover, mysticism tends more toward passivity: a quiet "waiting
upon God" rather than active investigation.

Both
the mystical and the esoteric paths are generously represented in the Christian
tradition. Examples of the former include the fourteenth-century English text
known as
The
Cloud of Unknowing,
which
emphasizes coming to God in the stillness of the heart; the Quietism of
seventeenth-century Spain; and Quaker spirituality, with its focus on the still
experience of the Inner Light. This book, on the other hand, is chiefly about
the esoteric strain: it attempts to discuss some of these different levels
between God and the physical realm and to show how you might experience them
for yourself.

These
brief points suggest what esoteric Christianity offers to the individual: a way
of self-knowledge—a way, perhaps, to the ultimate knowledge of Self. It also
offers a resolution of the age-old dilemma of faith. As even the most casual
reader of the New Testament can see, faith originally meant conviction or
certainty: "Thy faith has made thee whole" (Luke 17:19).

But
over the centuries the term has been watered down into connoting a blind trust
in secondhand dogma despite one's own better judgment. For the esoteric
Christian, faith is indeed vital, but it is not blind trust; rather, it is
"the evidence of things not seen" (Heb.

II:I).
Faith in this sense is the conviction, deeply felt and unshaken by whatever the
world may say, that something real and vital lies beyond the surface of
appearances. In this sense, faith too is a way station. It is the gateway to
knowledge.

To
Christianity collectively, esotericism offers an outlook that can revitalize
the tradition and cut through difficulties that now seem almost insurmountable.
One example is biblical interpretation, which now focuses almost exclusively on
the literal truth of Scripture. Fundamentalists hold to scriptural inerrancy:
the Old and New Testaments are literally true. Moderns, on the other hand,
claim that while the Bible is
meant
to
be literally true, it is a collection of legends and myths that often have
little to do with what really happened.

In
their pure form, both views are dead ends. Fundamentalism requires us to take
Genesis literally, believe that people used to live hundreds of years, and
accept various odd but miraculous interventions of God in history. The liberal
perspective makes no such requirements, but in writing off so much of the
central sacred texts of the tradition, it

tends
to weaken and even invalidate the Christian message. The endless debate about
the "historical Jesus" versus the "Christ of faith," which
has been going on for over two centuries without a satisfactory resolution, is
the most obvious example of this impasse.