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
3
Those expressions in which the verb
to be
itself seems to take the part of the predicate, namely when the mere fact of existence of something is asserted, are not in contradiction with the above statement. The fact is, it is but a manner of expression for an abstracting thought, and it is not intended then to express the full truth of the object. Thus, for example, if I simply say: The devil exists, or There is a devil;
then, although in this instance I do nor say what the devil is, yet I do not mean to say that he is not something;
also, I by no means assume here that he only is, or is only a being, a subject without any objective qualitative definition, without any substance or content;
I simply
do not dwell
upon the problem of essence or content, but limit myself only to pointing out the existence of that subject. Such expressions, thus, represent only an
omission
of the real predicate, but in no way its denial or identification with existence as such.
4
Hereof consists the deeply-correct meaning of the famous paradox of Hegel, with which starts his 'Logic': namely that being, as such, that is to say, a pure, empty being, is identical with its opposite, or nothing.
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 Qpd. 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.
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
5
This analogy, of course, is not complete, because our artistic creation presupposes a certain passive state of inspiration or an inner perception in which the artist does not possess the idea but is possessed by it. In that respect the words of the poet are well justified: 'In vain thinkest thou, Oh artist, that thou art the creator of thy works ...'
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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'.
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?
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, Ire 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.
6
Psalm 82:6.
Italics by Solovyev. Translator.
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.
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.
7
This capacity to analyse, which is necessary as a means or as a transition to the integral and
reflective
world-view from the instinctive folk-mind, is absolutely sterile and even harmful if one confines oneself to it. And it is this limitation which conditions the pride of the half-educated people (whose number comprises the majority of the learned specialists, who in our days understand little outside of their own speciality)—pride in relation to the `unenlightened masses submerged in superstitions', as well as in regard to the philosophers, devoted to 'mystical phantasies'. However, the significance of those groundless negators is as illusory as their knowledge is superficial.
8
Speaking of religious belief as a product of organic thought, we must remember that this
[type]
of thought is based upon the contemplation of the ideal, which, as has been pointed out in the previous lecture, is not a subjective process, but the actual relation towards the realm of ideal things, or the interaction
[between the actual and the ideal];
consequently, the results of this contemplation are not the products of subjective, arbitrary creation, not inventions and phantasies, but are actual revelations of the super-human reality, received by man in one form or another.
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 un-able 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
9
This was asserted also by Hegel in his 'History of Philosophy'.
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
10
Irrational not in the sense of being without reason but in the sense of not being subject to reason, incommensurate with it;
for senselessness is a contradiction of concepts,
[and]
consequently belongs to the domain of reason, is judged and condemned by it;
while that aspect of being of which we are speaking is outside the limits of reason and, consequently, can be neither reasonable nor senseless;
in the same manner as, for example, the taste of lemon cannot be either white or black.
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.
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.
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.
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.
