“On the whole, I do not find Christians, outside of the catacombs, sufficiently sensible of conditions. Does anyone have the foggiest idea what sort of power we so blithely invoke? … It is madness to wear ladies’ straw hats and velvet hats to church; we should all be wearing crash helmets.” — Annie Dillard
Traditionally, “YAHWEH” is the unspeakable name of God. Such an idea sits oddly with the garrulous culture of our mainstream religions. Back in 1887, even the atheist Nietzsche noted “the appalling chumminess with which [religious people] address their Maker.”
Emile Durkheim, a founder of social science, identified the “sacred” as that which is set apart, or forbidden. But a language that overruns both the sacred and the profane, and unapologetically names everything in its path, destroys the distinction.
Suppose we were to attempt a restoration of the “sacred”… Where to begin, without committing this contradictory trespass?
Let’s first (very clumsily) specify a zone of knowledge identified with western rationalism and empiricism, a zone in which science is the ultimate arbiter. Let’s define it as everything that is known, or could in principle be known, either rationally or empirically. Then let’s consider four potential relations to this zone:
1. There is nothing that exists outside of it (nothing that could not, in principle, be known the way science and logic know things)
2. There may be something outside of it, but whatever that is holds no interest.
3. There may be something beyond the reach of rationalism and/or empiricism, and it may be of interest, but we cannot — by definition — say anything about it.
4. There is something outside this zone of knowledge, and plenty to be said about it.
Position (1) is exemplified by hardcore materialists, curiously prevalent in the upper reaches of western academia. Position (2) may be expressed by more sophisticated and reflective extensions of the first population. Position (3) is the topic of this post, and I’ll return to it. Position (4) is the terrain of conventional theism.
Positions (1) and (2) are inherently closed. They don’t admit of argument, and should be respectfully left in peace. Position (4) is vast and varied. We sometimes see it trying to strike deals with (1) and (2). Occasionally, it appears to become sensible of position (3). But again, for now, we will leave it alone.
So, let’s recap position (3): Beyond what can be known rationally and/or empirically, there exists that which cannot be known in these ways. It may be important, but there is nothing to say about it. Wittgenstein comes to mind: “Whereof we cannot speak, we should be silent.”
Buddhism comes to mind, too. Notoriously the godless religion, Buddhism is preoccupied with various ideas of “emptiness” or “void” or “nothingness”. Correlative with these concepts is the distinction between “conventional reality” and “ultimate reality.” Conventional reality is cluttered with stuff, and selves. Ultimate reality is empty of both. There’s nothing there.
Nietzsche identified these ideas with nihilism: Buddhists just don’t like the reality we have, so they mentally erase it. This characterization may be accurate, but I’d like to toy with another reading.
Perhaps there’s a sense in which Buddhism is trying to engage the sacred without violating its boundary. Perhaps “emptiness” represents an emptying out of language. Perhaps Buddhists aren’t atheists after all; they’re just tactful. I realize that from a scholarly point of view, this reading may be untenable. I’m probably inventing my own Buddhism here. But bear with me a moment, in case it becomes interesting.
How can one indicate the unspeakable without speaking? This question is unlikely to bother contemporary theologians. Many would no doubt pay respect to “the inadequacies of language.” But that wouldn’t actually stop them talking.
Buddhists do stop talking. They go silent — actually, literally, silent. They meditate. And not just incidentally. Silence is the heart of Buddhist practice. Of course, Buddhist literature is as verbose as its Christian cousin. But this literature is peppered with self-destroying language: “emptiness,” “the void”, etc. (Or, in a related vein, the Zen koan: “If you meet the Buddha in the road, kill him.”).
Buddhism testifies to the existence of a reality beyond the grasp of rational and/or empirical knowledge. Buddhist practice testifies to its importance. But Buddhist practice, and the self-destroying language of Buddhist philosophy, suggest that this beyond-reality, though important, is unsayable. It is literally sacred.
The 13th century poet Jalal ad-In Rumi was a Sufi, and therefore a theist. But he’s on the same track:
Sit down and be quiet.
You are drunk
and this is the edge of the roof.