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Today's post is necessarily going to be an overly short and, frankly, unfair treatment of a topic which needs larger consideration. At some point I may return to it, so consider this post a placeholder.

When you mention the word "reincarnation" to Americans, you'll very often find that the religion or philosophy that they associate it with is not Platonism, Gnosticism or even Hinduism, but Buddhism. Now, whether or not they are correct in this association is another matter, which we'll turn to presently. But for now it is enough to say that no discussion of the metaphysics of reincarnation would be complete without at least a cursory overview of the Buddhist tradition, which presents alternatives both to the Platonist-Gnostic and Aristotelean notions we've looked at so far.

Every word of the preceding paragraph is true, but to step forward from this point is to immediatley court controversy. There are at least three reasons for this. The first is simply that Buddhism itself is older than Christianity by some five centuries, and as such has had that much more time to spread and diversify. It has, moreover, from a far earlier date lacked an organizaton which could enforce an orthodox set of opinions. Rather than "Buddhism," there are many "Buddhisms," which at times differ greatly from one another. The second is that within the individual Buddhist traditions, there are differences of opinion on precisely this topic. One can find Japanese, Chinese, and Indian Buddhists arguing for or against various interpretations of reincarnation.

The third reason is simply that, here in the West, Buddhism has for a long time been marketed as a kind of up-market "rational religion" for atheists. This has resulted in a particular view of Buddhist teaching becoming widespread here.

Reincarnation or Rebirth?

The upshot of all of this is that there are many contemporary Buddhists-- especially in the West and especially online-- who object to the term reincarnation, and in fact insist that the Buddha never taught reincarnation, and that reincarnation doesn't exist. Now, so far, this is nothing terribly unfamiliar. Mainstream Christians, Muslims, and scientific-atheists insist on the same things. But there are two really odd things about this claim. The first is simply that the historical Buddha clearly taught reincarnation, and many, perhaps most, Buddhist scriptures accept reincarnation as a matter of fact. The second and even odder oddity is that the same teachers who claim that reincarnation does not happen are also willing to admit the existence of past life memories.

So what's going on here?

Six Realms of Rebirth

Reincarnation is central to the teachings of the historical Buddha, as the idea of reincarnation was widely known and taught in his time. It's well worth noting that, while the exact dates of the Buddha's lifetime are not known for certain, he was a contemporary either of Pythagoras of or Empedocles, both of whom, as we have seen, taught reincarnation. Now, the claim here is not that Buddha learned about reincarnation from Pythagoras or vice versa. In fact, both teachers claimed to have learned about reincarnation directly: that is to say, through their own memories. ( There is a discussion of reincarnation beliefs in early Buddhism here.)

Like many other teachers on this subject, the Buddha's view of reincarnation was not exactly a positive one. The Buddhist term samsara refers to the condition of constantly returning to incarnation, and this is seen as a condition of suffering from which we must escape. In this sense, the Buddhist take on reincarnation may be seen as another spin on the idea found both in Plato's teachings and in Gnosticism.

As in the case of Platonism, Buddhism traditionally teaches that there are many possible forms in which one may be reborn. Many Buddhist schools organize these into the Six Realms of Rebirth, representing six possible levels of existence. These are, in order from the most to the least pleasant:

1. Gods

2. Asuras (angelic beings below Gods but above mortals)

3. Human beings

4. Animals

5. Hungry Ghosts

6. Demons

After death, the mind enters into a liminal space, called Bardo in the Tibetan tradition, after which it takes rebirth in one of these six realms. Attentive readers will already note the similarities to Plato's Phaedo. The difference seems to be that Plato conflates the time spent in between incarnations with rebirth in one of the more pleasant parts of the spiritual world.

Now, in the Platonic tradition, as we have seen, the souls of the just abide in a pleasant or heavenly part of the spiritual world-- but this is not the ultimate goal. The goal, rather, is, through the practice of Philosophy, to ascend beyond the cycle of death and rebirth. In the Buddhist tradition too this is the goal. There are two critical differences, however. First, Buddhism has a far more skeptical view of the realms of the Gods and Asuras than does Platonism. Some Buddhist traditions teach that one ascends to these realms through pride, not through virtue. Even those with a more positive view of the Divine realm see it as just another part of the cycle of Samsara, and thus a fate to be avoided. Second, the ultimate goal for the Platonists is ascent to the realm of the Ideas, or perhaps to the One Itself, depending upon who one is talking to. For the Buddhist, by contrast, the goal is Nirvana, which...

...Well, here again we run into difficulties. Sometimes, Nirvana is seen as a positive state of transcendent consciousness, in which one is no longer bound to fixed realities or conditioned states of existence. At other times, it is seen as a total cessation of all consciousness. And very often, it is both of these at once.

The result is that some forms of Buddhism are very similar to Platonism-- or, rather, can be seen as part of a family of traditions which includes Platonism and Gnosticism. The relationship between these traditions can be views in the following way:

Platonism, Gnosticism, Buddhism

1. Platonism. The material world is a kind of prison, but its creator is a good Demiurge. After death, the human being abides in Tartarus, Hades, or Heaven for a time, experiencing either joy or suffering depending upon merit. Rebirth may be in human or animal form. The goal of the spiritual life is to transcend the cycle of reincarnation through the practice of Philosophy. The cycle of reincarnation may or may not begin anew for human souls during the next cycle of Creation.

2. Gnosticism. The material world is a prison, and its creator is an evil Demiurge. After death, the human being is recycled back into the prison house of matter, which is as good as being tossed into Hell. The goal of the spiritual life is to transcend the cycle of reincarnation through the achievement of Gnosis. The way of Gnosis was brought to mankind especially by Jesus, who was sent from the Divine Realm of the True God, who is above the Demiurge.

3. Buddhism. The material world is an illusion, and has no creator. The spiritual worlds are also illusions with no creators. Gods, angelic beings, humans, animals, spirits and devils are all trapped in the cycle of rebirth. The goal of the spiritual life is to transcend the cycle of reincarnation through Awakening. Awakening is achieved by following the Eight-Fold Path taught by Gautama Buddha.

American Buddhism

The foregoing should suffice for a very general comparison of Buddhism with other reincarnationist traditions. It remains to discuss the outlier, non-reincarnationist forms of Buddhism. And the reason to discuss this is simply that you're very likely to encounter it if you talk to modern Buddhists, especially in America and especially on the Internet.

The approach this type of Buddhism, which we might as well just call American Buddhism, takes to reincarnation can be seen in a video on the topic from a British Zen organization called Zenways. Note the claims that the teacher makes:

1. Past life memories occur to some people who meditate regularly (he estimates between 1 in 10 and 1 in 20 meditators will encounter this).

2. But the person in the past life isn't you.

3. On the other hand, the person in your own childhood memories isn't you either.

4. (Left unstated: But the childhood memories are somehow more you than the pastlife memories.)

The crux of this approach is point number 3, which is an expression of the idea of anatta. Anatta is a Buddhist doctrine meaning "no self." Its meaning in practice is that hte fixed self that you experience does not exist. Anatta is paired with another idea, "anitta," which means "impermanence." This refers to the way that all things move and change. In other words: There is no fixed self, and there is also no fixed world out there for the self to experience! Buddhist traditions which emphasize anitta and anatta tend to teach their followers to spend a great deal of time meditating on impermanence. Vipassana practitioners, for example, will spend hours, or even days, scanning their own bodies from crown to feet and back again, in order to notice how the body sensations exist in a state of continual flux. Enlighteningment, in this case, means the realization of the nonexistence of, basically, everything. In such a state, past-life memories happen, and present life memories happen, because there is some sort of connection between past and present-- but it's nothing to make a very great fuss about, because there is nothing really there at all.

If I'm being honest, I find it very hard to be polite about this tradition. At best I believe it's a great illustration of the classical Occult teaching: What you contemplate, you imitate. The flux that these Buddhists describe is what Platonism refers to as Chaos or the Indefinite Dyad, and it's identical with what I've identified as Cythraul or the Devil in the posts on Druidry. Contemplate Chaos, and you become Chaos. Contemplate nothing, you become nothing. This seems to have an enormous appeal especially to the upper class of America and Western Europe, for reasons that seem obvious enough.

We have seen that Aristotle opposed Plato and the Pythagoreans on the question of reincarnation, while the Gnostics agreed but reversed the meaning. Today I want to look at another anti-reincarnationist viewpoint-- that of the orthodox Church Fathers.

The Reward of the Body

Dionysius the Areopagite, in his treatise on the Ecclesiastical Hierarchy, tells us the following, in the passage concerning the rites said over those who have died:

The holy souls, which may possibly fall during this present life to a change for the worse, in the regeneration, will have the most Godlike transition to an unchangeable condition. Now, the pure bodies which are enrolled together as yoke-fellows and companions of the holy souls, and have fought together within their Divine struggles in the unchanged steadfastness of their souls throughout the divine life, will jointly receive their own resurrection; for, having been united with the holy souls to which they were united in this present life, by having become members of Christ, they will receive in return the Godlike and imperishable immortality, and blessed repose.

Of the idea of reincarnation he has this to say:

But others assign to souls union with other bodies, committing, as I think, this injustice to them, that, after (bodies) have laboured together with the godly souls, and have reached the goal of their most Divine course, they relentlessly deprive them of their righteous retributions.

Dionysius was a thoroughgoing Platonist, hardly ignorant of the tradition of reincarnation. The passage cited here is derived in large part from Plato's Phaedo. Another treatise, the Divine Names, is concerned (as one might expect) with the Names of God given in the scriptures and elsewhere in the Christian tradition. The first name that he cites is Goodness, and his discussion of it is derived directly from Plato's Republic:

Even as our Sun-- not as calculating or choosing, but by its very being, enlightens all things able to partake of its light in their own degree-- so too the Good-- as superior to a Sun, as the archetype par excellence, is above an obscure image-- by Its very existence sends to all things that be, the rays of Its whole goodness, according to their capacity.

And again:

The Good then above every light is called spiritual Light, as fontal ray, and stream of light welling over, shining upon every mind, above, around , and in the world, from its fulness, and renewing their whole mental powers, and embracing them all by its over-shadowing; and being above all by its exaltation; and in one word, by embracing and having previously and pre-eminently the whole sovereignty of the light-dispensing faculty, as being source of light and above all light, and by comprehending in itself all things intellectual, and all things rational, and making them one altogether.

And so we see that Dionysius is informed from his very first principles by the Platonic tradition. And yet, in this passage alone, he appears to directly attack Plato himself. Why?

Why Bother with the Other Philosophers?

Dionysius was one of the most important of the early theologians. He retains his status in the Christian East, wherein he is often still venerated as Saint Dionysius, the companion of Saint Paul. In the West Dionysius's influence is today felt more indirectly, via his influence on Thomas Aquinas. Aquinas draws heavily on Dionysius, citing him 1700 times. But Aquinas is above all an Aristotelean-- he loves Aristotle enough that he refers to him as "The Philosopher." Of Plato he has a much lower opinion. In this Aquinas represents a deviation from the earlier, dominant, Christian tradition, and that deviation has affected Western Christianity down to the present. But let us leave that discussion for another time.

Writing many centuries before Aquinas, Augustine of Hippo is far more in line with what I'm calling the Christian mainstream. Several books of his City of God are addressed directly to the Platonists of his day, specifically because, as he says, of all the pagan philosophers, "It is evident that none come nearer to us than the Platonists." Indeed, he has a great deal of praise for Plato himself and for the philosophical system which bore his name:

If, then, Plato defined the wise man as one who imitates, knows, loves this God, and who is rendered blessed through fellowship with Him in His own blessedness, why discuss the other philosophers?

Through several books Augustine elaborates the doctrines of the Platonsits of his day, and their differences with the Christians. In Book X, he comes to the subject of reincarnation, as part of a long discussion of Porphyry:

It is very certain that Plato wrote that the souls of men return after death to the bodies of beasts. Plotinus also, Porphyry's teacher, held this opinion; yet Porphyry justly rejected it. He was of opinion that human souls return indeed into human bodies, but not into the bodies they had left, but other new bodies. He shrank from the other opinion, lest a woman who had returned into a mule might possibly carry her own son on her back. He did not shrink, however, from a theory which admitted the possibility of a mother coming back into a girl and marrying her own son. How much more honorable a creed is that which was taught by the holy and truthful angels, uttered by the prophets who were moved by God's Spirit, preached by Him who was foretold as the coming Saviour by His forerunning heralds, and by the apostles whom He sent forth, and who filled the whole world with the gospel, — how much more honorable, I say, is the belief that souls return once for all to their own bodies, than that they return again and again to various bodies? Nevertheless Porphyry, as I have said, did considerably improve upon this opinion, in so far, at least, as he maintained that human souls could transmigrate only into human bodies, and made no scruple about demolishing the bestial prisons into which Plato had wished to cast them. He says, too, that God put the soul into the world that it might recognize the evils of matter, and return to the Father, and be for ever emancipated from the polluting contact of matter. And although here is some inappropriate thinking (for the soul is rather given to the body that it may do good; for it would not learn evil unless it did it), yet he corrects the opinion of other Platonists, and that on a point of no small importance, inasmuch as he avows that the soul, which is purged from all evil and received to the Father's presence, shall never again suffer the ills of this life. By this opinion he quite subverted the favorite Platonic dogma, that as dead men are made out of living ones, so living men are made out of dead ones; and he exploded the idea which Virgil seems to have adopted from Plato, that the purified souls which have been sent into the Elysian fields (the poetic name for the joys of the blessed) are summoned to the river Lethe, that is, to the oblivion of the past,

That earthward they may pass once more,

Remembering not the things before,

And with a blind propension yearn

To fleshly bodies to return.

Reincarnation, Incarnation, Resurrection

Augustine and Dionysius have their differences. Above all, from my own perspective, I find Dionysius's writings inspiring, and his vision compelling; I don't think that Dionysian Christianity is, ultimately, correct-- but for spiritual sustenance, from my own perspective, it would be sufficient. Augustine is harsher, more given to disputation; I frequently find him unpleasant, sometimes downright appalling. Here he is describing the fate of unbaptized babies:

Let no one promise infants who have not been baptized a sort of middle place of happiness between damnation and Heaven, for this is what the Pelagian heresy promised them.

Yes, he's saying what you think he's saying. For Augustine, an infant who dies before baptism is consigned to Hell. And yes, that includes babies who die in the womb. I will return to this subject in due time.

For now, what I want to note is the specific vision of human life and the human soul that unites both Augustine and Dionysius, and separates them from Plato, or from his later successors like Plotinus and Porphyry.

For Plato, just as Augustine says, "The living come from the dead, and the dead from the living." Now, Augustine makes it "a favorite doctrine of the Platonists" that this is the case for all human souls-- that is, that we are all subject to reincarnation, for all of time. Porphry and Plotinus did not believe this; for them, the souls of those who are purified return to the Intelligible Realm, and abide there eternally. It was, however, the teaching of Proclus, and of his school-- which some have identified as an "Eastern" school of Platonism, as opposed to the Western school of Plotinus et al-- more generally. Where Plato stood on the subject depends on which dialogue you are reading, as do many such details. Unlike his later followers, Plato appears to have been happy to keep certain questions open.

Whether or not they believed that human souls would eventually return to material incarnation, the Platonists were united in believing three things: First, that our souls are eternal; second, that they begin their existence in the presence of God, and strive to return to him; third, that the journey of the soul's return to God takes place across many lifetimes.

The differences between Augustine and Dionysius are certainly as great as those between Plotinus and Proclus, but they, too, are united by their underlying beliefs about the soul and its relation to body, which can also be described as consisting in three principles: First, our souls are created by God and come into existence with our bodies; second, upon death, our soul departs the body either into the presence of God, or not; third, at the end of time our soul and its body will be reunited.

It is true that, as Augustine says, the Platonists are the closest to the Christians of all of the ancient philosophical schools. Both traditions believe in a single Creator; both believe that moral action in this life determines our fate fater death; both believe that the purpose of the soul in this life is to return to God. Describing the nature of the life of God (City of God, Book VIII), Augustine speaks for both the Christians and the PLatonists when he says:

And therefore, whether we consider the whole body of the world, its figure, qualities, and orderly movement, and also all the bodies which are in it; or whether we consider all life, either that which nourishes and maintains, as the life of trees, or that which, besides this, has also sensation, as the life of beasts; or that which adds to all these intelligence, as the life of man; or that which does not need the support of nutriment, but only maintains, feels, understands, as the life of angels — all can only be through Him who absolutely is.

Where they differ, and differe greatly, is in what they see as the nature of the human person and its relationship to the physical world.

For the Platonists, the soul has a body, just as a body has clothes. In the same way that our body changes clothes, our soul changes bodies. Just as our body is sometimes naked, so, too, our soul is sometimes naked. And when the soul is naked-- that is, not in a body-- this isn't a loss, or a condition of deprivation. The soul between lives abides in the spiritual world, in a pleasant or a painful part depending on its merits. After its long sojourn through the realms of earthly existence-- including those parts of the spiritual world which are the abodes of the human Dead-- it returns to the Father and rests in the Intelligible Realm, either forever or until time begins again.

For the Christians-- at least, the mainstream Christians-- the soul and the body are, essentially, one. In this, the Christian doctrine far more closely resembles that of Aristotle, who we looked at last time, and you will often hear Christians both Western and Eastern citing Aristotle on this topic. The soul no more "has" a body than Architecture "has" schools or drawing boards or architects. To imagine Architecture deprived of its instruments, or in possession of different instruments, would simply be to imagine a different art entirely. Similarly, on this account of soul and body, to possess a different body would be simply to be someone else. Death, on this account, is a disaster; and, indeed, Christianity sees Death as the result of the Fall. Prior to Adam and Eve's expulsion from Paradise, they were ensouled bodies who did not die; after the Fall, the monstrous absurdity that is the separation of soul from body became possible. But, on this account, all will be corrected in due time.

I know that I find one of these accounts far more plausible than the other, and readers of this blog will already have guessed which one. Before we get to that, though, I want to discuss one more alternative take on the subject. We'll get to that tomorrow. Or next time.

Everyone knows the famous depiction of Plato and Aristotle that occupies the center of Raphael's School of Athens. It's worth taking a moment to study the image, as it says a very great deal without a single word, except for the inscriptions on the books each man carries.

Plato stands in the background. Aged, barefooted, with his right hand he points upward, along a vertical line, toward the Heavens, with his left, he holds a copy of his Timaeus. Plato seems to be standing still, but this sense of stillness is belied by his feet, which are in motion. To his left, his pupil Aristotle, a much younger man, appears to move away and ahead of his teacher. The image is of a departure-- but notice, Aristotle's feet are still. In his left hand, he holds a copy of the Nichomachaean Ethics. With his right, he gestures outward and downward. His palm points toward the Earth, but his open hand suggests a horizontal line. The two figures look towards one another, while around them gather all the luminaries of ancient philosophy, science, and art.

This single image captures much about the relationship between the two men-- or, rather, between the philosophical systems that each developed. Of their personal relationship we can only make guesses. Aristotle was the student of Plato for twenty years, during which time he lectured at Plato's Academy. Plato referred to Aristotle as the intellect of the academy; Aristotle eulogized Plato at his funeral. Their relationship during Plato's life appears to have been one of friendship between master and pupil.

After Plato's death, the story changes. Plato was succeeded as head of the Academy by his nephew Speussipus. Following Speussipus, there seems to have been a dispute, with different factions within the academy favoring either Aristotle or Xenocrates. According to at least some accounts, while Aristotle was out of town Xenocrates was made head of the Academy, and following this Aristotle founded his own school. The works of Aristotle's that modern academics believe date from after this time reflect a very different perspective. Many of his works from this period open with an attack on Plato and the Academy, and then go on to contain continuous, tendentious and often tedious attacks throughout the remainder.

The Whole or the Part?

Of course, it's Aristotle's views on reincarnation that concern us here. Fortunately, he left us no doubt at all as to either his position or the reasoning behind it. Put simply, he thought the whole idea was ludicrous. In his commentary On the Soul he tells us why:

It is as absurd as to say that the art of Carpentry could embody itself in flutes; each art must use its tools, each soul its body.

Notice what's being said here. As with Raphael's painting, there is quite a bit contained in a very small space.

If you reason from Aristotle's premises, his point is a good one and it makes perfect sense. No, we cannot imagine Carpentry, as an art, somehow becoming Flutes; just to say so is to utter an absurdity.

Now, consider what is meant by "Carpentry." We use a single word here, and in doing so denominate a single "thing." But that thing consists of a great many, separate processes, including a suite of knowledge, trade schools or apprenticeships in which the knowledge is learned, tools and materials in which the knowledge is applied, and finished products, all transmitted across time. That time is limited, at least in theory; there must have been a time when the art of working with wood to make things like houses and furniture was discovered, and there may be a time in which it is forgotten. But that finite time is different from the lifespans of particular objects, or the length of time it took to produce this house or that chair, or the time that this or that carpenter spent in trade school. John could become a carpenter or not; Sally could make a chair or a house today; Billy could cut his hand with a jigsaw. Carpentry as such is not affected by these particulars. The particulars, then, are akin to the body of the art. In just the same way, you could cut your hair today, or not, or go running and lose five pounds, or eat donuts and gain five pounds. You can go through puberty and double in size, have a baby and double in size again, then go through menopause. Your body will be modified, as the "body" of Carpentry is modified by Sally's chair or Billy's workplace compensation suit. But the "You" of you will remain. It is not reducible to these particulars-- and, yet, it expresses itself through the particulars. It would be as absurd, on this account-- indeed, as grammatically meaningless-- for you to suddenly exist as Billy or Sally as it would for Carpentry to suddenly become Flutes.

This "You" is precisely what Aristotle means by "Soul." It is, as he puts it, the "actuality" of a particular body, or that which is expressing itself through that body. On this account, it is meaningless to even talk about a soul without a body, and doubly meaningless to talk about a soul with a different body. A soul with a different body is a different soul.

The Locus of Being

The difference between Plato and Aristotle is a subject for a very long blog post, and maybe we'll get to that one day. For now, I want to focus on one thing-- but this one thing is a microcosm of the entire divide. That is the approach of each of the two philosophers to ousia.

Ousia is a Greek word which we can translate as "essence," "substance," or-- stretching the point a bit-- as "being." The Platonic account, which we are all familiar with by now, has Ousia as the primary Form out of which all other things emerge. If we can simplify things a bit and simply call it "being," for the Platonists, Being comes first, and all particular beings participate in Being Itself.

Aristotle reverses the situation entirely. For Aristotle, ousia primarily is not being, but this being. Socrates is ousia primarily. "Man," a species of which Socrates is a part, is ousia only secondarily. "Animal," of which "Man" is a part, has a tertiary existence.

On this account, Soul cannot be an eternal principle in which ensouled beings participate. Indeed, Aristotle attacks the very notion of participation, central to Platonic metaphysics, early on in his own Metaphysics. Starting with particulars and rooted in particulars, Aristotle can only interpret the soul as particularity. Indeed, his word for the soul is entelechia, "entelechy," meaning precisely the actuality of this or that particular body.

To Be Continued

There are two different ways to look at Aristotle. He can be seen, on the one hand, as an anti-Platonist-- and, indeed, as the anti-Platonist. Certainly a cursory reading of him bears this out, as, like I said, attacks on Plato are basically constant throughout the entire corpus of his written work.

Given that, it would seem to be somewhat odd that the most important introduction to Aristotle's work, one which endured throughout the Christian Middle Ages, was written by Plotinus's student Porphyry. It would seem even odder that Proclus of Lysias's introduction to philosophy began, not with the reading of Plato, but with a systematic reading of all of the works of Aristotle. Plato is more than human for Proclus, he is divine, and Proclus's masterwork is the Theology of Plato, not the Theology of Aristotle.

So what's going on here?

I'm afraid that's all the time we have for today. Join me tomorrow, when we'll pick up the thread from this point.

I thought we would get to Aristotle today, but I'm afraid there's one more stop we need to make. Because the truth is, this isn't a two way fight, between the reincarnationists and the anti-reincarnationists. Within the reincarnationist camp, there is a major dissenting opinion, and it's time we discussed it.

The Demiurge

Plato's Timaeus is an accoiunt of the creation of the universe by a good God called the Demiurge or "craftsman." Plato is somewhat coy about the Demiurge's identity, saying in the dialogue that it's unclear what his true name is. Proclus later interpreted the Demiurge as Zeus-- or, rather, the first of gods named Zeus and sharing in the attributes of the Zeus of earlier mythology. Christian Platonists, of course, interpreted the Demiurge as Christ. What both the Christian and the pagan Platonists had in common is that they agreed with Plato's statement that, above all else, the Demiurge, the Creator of the cosmos is good.

But there were some who disagreed.

The word "Gnostic" refers to a wide variety of Christian and semi-Christian religious dissidents who flourished in the first few centuries after Christ. The Gnostics were never anything like a unified tradition; indeed, modern academics debate over whether the term "Gnostic" is really useful at all, given the wide variety of different traditions that can be gathered under that one label. What we're going to discuss here is one strain of Gnosticism, which we can call the Radical Dualist tradition. Of these, the most extreme were a sect known as the Sethians, and their later descendants, the Manichaeans and the medieval Cathars.

The central point of Dualist Gnosticism is quite simply that the Demiurge is evil. The Secret Book of John, a Sethian text, gives an elaborate account of the spiritual beings that existed prior to the creation of the material universe, concluding with a feminine power named Wisdom or Sophia. Except for the first Power, each of these primordial spirits is part of a mated pair, and it is in union with their appropriate partner that they give rise to the next pair. Sophia, unfortunately, decides to try to give birth without her partner, and brings forth a monstrous being:

Because she had unconquerable Power
Her thought was not unproductive.

Something imperfect came out of her

Different in appearance from her.

Because she had created it without her masculine counterpart

She gave rise to a misshapen being unlike herself.

Sophia saw what her desire produced.

It changed into the form of a dragon with a lion’s head

And eyes flashing lightning bolts....

She named him Yaldabaoth.

Yaldabaoth is the chief ruler.

He took great Power from his mother,

Left her, and moved away from his birthplace.

He assumed command,

Created realms for himself

With a brilliant flame that continues to exist even now.

Yaldabaoth is then explicitly equated with the God of the Old Testament:

This dim ruler has three names:Yaldabaoth is the first.

Saklas is the second.

Samael is the third.

He is blasphemous through his thoughtlessness.

He said “I am God, and there is no God but me!”

Since he didn’t know where his own Power originated.

Yaldabaoth goes on to form the material world as a prison for human souls, which he rules over with the aid of his demonic Archons. The elaborate cosmology of the Sethian tradition is nearly a mirror-image of Proclus, with both the Hebrew God and the many gods of the pagan world gathered together into a single demonic system. In this system, reincarnation occurs as in the account of Plato-- but in keeping with the Gnostic inversion, reincarnation is a disaster pure and simple. In the thought of the Sethians, Christ's mission was precisely to liberate us from imprisonment in the material world. As the Secret Book of John goes on to explain:

I said, Master, where will the souls [of the saved] go when they leave their flesh?

He laughed and said to me, The soul in which there is more power than the Contemptible Spirit is strong. She escapes from evil, and through the intervention of hte Incorruptible One she is saved and taken up to eternal rest.

I said, Master, where will the souls go of people who have not known to whom they belong?

He said to me, The Contemptible Spirit has grown stronger in such people while they were going astray. This spirit lays a heavy burden on the soul, leads her into evil, and hurls her down into forgetfulness. After the soul leaves the body, she is handed over to the authorities who have come into being through the Ruler. They bind her with chains and throw her into prison. They go around and around with her until she awakens from forgetfulness and acquires knowledge. This is how she attains perfection and is saved.

Note well: The speakers in this dialogue are supposed to be Saint John the Evangelist and the resurrected Jesus.

Matter and Spirit

There is an ambivalence around matter, to be sure, in both the Christian and Platonist traditions. Christians believe in the Fall of Man, and see the world since that time as stained by sin. Plato famously compared the material world to an underground prison and the body to a tomb. Probably Plotinus took the Platonic pessimism as far as it could go when he declared matter to be the principle of evil. But even Plotinus did not achieve the radical dualism found especially in the Sethian tradition and its descendants, the Manichaeans and Cathars.

In many ways the Gnostic tradition resembles the Platonic. Indeed, one of Plotinus's chief complaints against the Gnostics was precisely that they'd taken the basic ideas of Platonic philosophy and bent them out of all proportion, multiplying the fundamental principles of spiritual reality to the point of absurdity. But the chief difference is precisely the answer to this question-- Why does reincarnation occur? For the Platonist, the answer is that we return to material incarnation until we learn to transcend it. We are here either through our own fault, in looking toward matter rather than spirit (Plotinus), or else because it is simply the nature of souls like ours to descend into embodiment for a time, until we work our way out (Proclus). For the Gnostics, we are here through precisely no fault of our own. We are prisoners, as Plato many times suggested, but not of good or just jailers. We are, in effect, in an earth-sized concentration camp, and it is our duty to escape.

A Matter of Temperament

I suggested at the beginning of this series that certain distinctions in philosophy really do seem to come down to temperament. To quote Coleridge again, "Every man is born an Aristotelean or a Platonist." And so I'm willing to believe that it may be a matter of temperament-- but I personally can find absolutely nothing appealing in Gnosticism. To my mind, the entire tradition, from the Secret Book of John through the even more elaborate works of the Manichaeans and the medieval Cathars, looks like nothing so much as a UFO suicide cult.

I do sympathize with Plotinus's dim view of matter. Actually, if you want to know the truth, my sympathy for Plotinus seems to correlate exactly with the number of birthdays I've celebrated; at 40 it's far greater than when I first encountered his work at 30. So perhaps by 50 or 60 something in Secret John will start to resonate for me. For now, though, I share it here only in order to give an alternate account its due.

The two possibilties we have seen are: 1. There is rencarnation. 2. There is no reincarnation.

But here is a third possiblity, or, rather, an alternate first possibility: There is reincarnation, and it sucks.

Reincarnation and the Fae

I wanted to get to Aristotle today, but I realized that we need to talk a bit more about the doctrine of reincarnation among the Neoplatonists and others.

In Book 13 Homer's Odyssey, we read of the transportation of Odysseus to his homeland of Ithaca by the Phaecians:

Now when that brightest of stars rose which ever comes to herald the light of early Dawn, even then the seafaring ship drew near to the island. There is in the land of Ithaca a certain harbor of Phorcys, the old man of the sea, and at its mouth two projecting headlands sheer to seaward, but sloping down on the side toward the harbor. These keep back the great waves raised by heavy winds without, but within the benched ships lie unmoored when they have reached the point of anchorage. At the head of the harbor is a long-leafed olive tree, and near it a pleasant, shadowy cave sacred to the nymphs that are called Naiads. Therein are mixing bowls and jars of stone, and there too the bees store honey. And in the cave are long looms of stone, at which the nymphs weave webs of purple dye, a wonder to behold; and therein are also ever-flowing springs. Two doors there are to the cave, one toward the North Wind, by which men go down, but that toward the South Wind is sacred, nor do men enter thereby; it is the way of the immortals. Here they rowed in, knowing the place of old; and the ship ran full half her length on the shore in her swift course, at such pace was she driven by the arms of the rowers. Then they stepped forth from the benched ship upon the land, and first they lifted Odysseus out of the hollow ship, with the linen sheet and bright rug as they were, and laid him down on the sand, still overpowered by sleep.

In the time of Plotinus and Porphry, the tale of Odysseus's return to Ithaca was seen as an allegory of the soul's return to the Intelligible. Porphyry wrote a long treatise on this one small episode from Homer; it is worth reading in its entirety, but for our purposes here its main interest lies in his discussion of the nymphs or naiads, those spirits to whom the cave is sacred. Porphry tells us:

We peculiarly call the Naiades, and the powers that preside over waters, Nymphs; and this term also, is commonly applied to all souls descending into generation. For the ancients thought that these souls are incumbent on water which is inspired by divinity, as Numenius says, who adds, that |16 on this account, a prophet asserts, that the Spirit of God moved on the waters. The Egyptians likewise, on this account, represent all daemons and also the sun, and, in short, all the planets (note 6), not standing on anything solid, but on a sailing vessel; for souls descending into generation fly to moisture. Hence also, Heraclitus says, that moisture appears delightful and not deadly to souls; but the lapse into generation is delightful to them. And in another place (speaking of unembodied souls), he says, "We live their death, and we die their life."

That is all to say: The nymphs are a class of nature spirit, one particularly concerned with streams and pools. There are, for the ancient Greeks as well as all other animistic peoples, other sorts of nature spirits; some dwell in caves or valleys, others in trees, others in winds, others in fire. But the peculiar thing about these naiads is that at least some of them are in fact human souls out of incarnation.

This points to another part of the old doctrine of reincarnation, which is worth discussing before we go on. We have already seen, in Virgil as well as Plato, that the idea is not, as many think, that reincarnation is a quick process: First you die, then you wake up in another body. No, there is a long sojourn in the spirit world between one incarnation and the next. (There is one exception to this idea, which we will come to in time.) The question, of course, is precisely what we're doing during that long sojourn. Porphyry tells us-- and note well, he is quoting Hesiod, who stands with Homer at the beginning of Greek civilization: We live as nature spirits, which are literally those beings which animate the natural world. When it is time to return to incarnation, we die to the spirit world, and return to this material world:

We live their death, and we die their life.

It is nearly certain that this exact doctrine prevailed among the ancient Celts.The way that we can know this is from the ambiguous nature of the Fae or fairies, those strange beings found in Celtic folklore from Ireland to Brittany and all areas in between. In some tales they appears as nature spirits, just like elementals or whathaveyou; but in others, they are very clearly identified with the Dead. In Brittany in particular, the emphasis is on the latter aspect of the fairies. The Bretons have some tales about mischevious nonhuman spirits called corrigans, but most of their fairy lore is concerned with the Dead, in whom are seen the exact same powers that the other Celtic people associate with the Fae. (The very best discussion of this, by the way, remains The Fairy Faith in Celtic Countries, by Evans-Wentz.)

Notice, too, that many of the sources have us involved in material incarnation only once in a thousand years. If that is the case, then it hardly seems correct to see our real nature as "human"-- human incarnation, it seems, is a test, or perhaps a punishment, meeted out to some but not all among the nature spirits who shape the material world.

Now-- this isn't a necessary consequence of the doctrine of reincarnation as such. Recent research has indicated that people who remember past lives often only experienced a short time between death and re-incarnation; sometimes only a few years. Moreover the Druze people of Lebanon, who believe in reincarnation, report that they are reborn immediately after death. But it is a possible consequence-- one I personally find very interesting indeed.

Today I want to continue the discussion of reincarnation by continuing to set the stage, as it were. For in ancient times, just as today, there were some who advocated the doctrine, others who rejected it, and both did so with a great deal of certainty and a fair bit of heat. Today we're going to set the board.

Apollonius and the Pythagoreans

Apollonius of Tyana was a wandering sage and miracle worker of the first century. The exact dates of his life are unknown; he may have lived contemporaneously with Jesus of Nazareth, or he may have been born somewhat after the latter's death. The most extensive account of his life from ancient times is The Life of Apollonius of Tyana, by Flavius Philostratus, which details Apollonius's various journeys to India, Ethiopia, and across the Roman Empire in search of wisdom. At the end, Apollonius is brought to trial in Rome and sentenced to death, at which point he miraculously disappears, reappearing regularly to his followers. For this reason, many contemporary atheists have brought out Apollonius as an argument against Christianity. The reasoning appears to be that if Jesus performed miracles and appeared to his followers after death, and if Apollonius performed miracles and appeared to his followers after death, then no one ever performed miracles or appeared to their followers after their death. On a similar note, I have, as usual, a cat laying next to my keyboard as I'm writing this. She is a small callico. However, out of the corner of my eye I've just spotted another cat, a large, male orange tabby. Should he also attempt to sit next to me while I write, I will naturally be forced to conclude that there is no such thing as a cat.

But I'm afraid the parallels between Apollonius and other First Century miracle workers aren't important here; the reason that I want to talk about him is that reincarnation was central to his life and teachings. In this, like Plato, he was a follower of Pythagoras. In fact, Apollonius was a central figure in the First Century revival of Pythagoreanism. Flavius opens his biography of Apollonius by teaching us about Pythagoras's doctrine of reincarnation:

The votaries of Pythagoras of Samos have this story to tell of him, that he was not an Ionian at all, but that, once on a time in Troy, he had been Euphorbus, and that he had come to life after death, but had died as the songs of Homer relate.

The capacity to remember one's previous lives, then, along with the willingness to abstain from wine or animal flesh, and the rejection of animal sacrifice as a whole, become the central themes of Apollonius's biography. Indeed, in the interpretation of Apollonius, the ancient command of Apollo to "Know Thyself" becomes " "Remember your previous incarnations!" The discussion of previous lives occurs over and over as Apollonius visits wise men around the ancient world, and is especially important during his sojourns with the Brahmans of India-- whom Apollonius regards as the wisest of men-- and the sages of Ethiopia (who are presented as runners-up to the Hindus.)

Nor was Pythagoras alone among the ancients in the teaching of reincarnation, though that would also be a point in favor of the doctrine. Flavius then immediatley quotes a line from Empedocles on the same subject:

For erewhile, I already became both girl and boy.

Empedocles lived about fifty years before Plato, and it was he who, appearently first conceived of the famous image of the material world as a kind of cave or underground prison.

Mysteries and Barbarians

Reincarnation, then, was a central doctrine for one of the major strains of Greek and later philosophers, the strain which includes Pythagoras, Empedocles and Plato, as well as later figures like Apollonius, Apuleius, Plutarch, Plotinus, Porphyry, Iamblichus and Proclus.

As we have seen, it was taught by the sages of other lands, outside the Graeco-Roman world, but it was also well-known outside the rarefied world of yogis and philosophers. Roman sources regularly mention that it was believed in by the Celts, where it is sometimes referred to as "the doctrine of Pythagoras." In his Decline and Fall, Gibbon relates the fact that certain of the Northern tribes were unusually fierce in battle, owing to their belief in reincarnation:

The first exploits of Trajan were against the Dacians... To the strength and fierceness of barbarians they added a contempt for life, which was derived from a warm persuasion of the immortality and transmigration of the soul.

Moreover, the doctrine of reincarnation appears to have been a central part of the initiation of the Mystery schools. The source for this is Virgil, the sixth book of whose Aeneid is believed to be as faithful as possible an account of the initiations of the Mysteries. Having descended into the Underworld, Aeneas has an encounter with the spirits of the Dead which is very similar to the account give in the Phaedo:

Why, when life leaves them at the final hour,

still all of the evil, all the plagues of the flesh, alas,

have not completely vanished, and many things, long hardened

deep within, must of necessity be ingrained, in strange ways.

So they are scourged by torments, and pay the price

for former sins: some are hung, stretched out,

to the hollow winds, the taint of wickedness is cleansed

for others in vast gulfs, or burned away with fire:

each spirit suffers its own: then we are sent

through wide Elysium, and we few stay in the joyous fields,

for a length of days, till the cycle of time,

complete, removes the hardened stain, and leaves

pure ethereal thought, and the brightness of natural air.

All these others the god calls in a great crowd to the river Lethe,

after they have turned the wheel for a thousand years,

so that, truly forgetting, they can revisit the vault above,

and begin with a desire to return to the flesh.’

Half the Board Set

And so we have established that the doctrine of reincarnation, or the transmigration of souls, was well known in the ancient pagan world, both among philosophers and initiates in the mysteries, and among ordinary warriors in places like Gallia and Germania. It's very important to make this point clearly before we go on, for the following reason: There are some writers who attempt to deny that this doctrine was ever taught or believed in in ancient times. These include some otherwise reputable commentators, like Marsilio Ficino, and they also include some far more dubious characters, like Renee Guenon.

(By the way, as I'm typing these words, another cat has jumped onto my desk. It isn't the orange tabby but a small, gray female without a tail. Be it then established, there is no such thing as a cat!)

Now, Ficino had his reasons for downplaying reincarnation. He was trying to get Plato's works and his ideas back into circulation at a time when charges of heresy still very much included the possibility of execution in a variety of very painful ways. In his lifetime he saw his friend Pico della Mirandolla's work condemned by the pope as "in part heretical, in part the flower of heresy" and banned. Guenon, on the other hand, had a rather worse excuse. He was annoyed that reincarnation was being taught by the Theosophical Society, and he appears to have been even more annoyed that the Theosophical Society had put together a syncretic system of spiritual wisdom before he had gotten around to it. And so he claimed that reincarnation had, in fact, never been taught or believed in by anyone before Madame Blavatsky showed up and started preaching it in the 19th century. This was nonsense and it remains nonsense, but you ought to be aware of it, because you will still to this day find people insisting upon it in various corners of the occult internet.

And that's all for today.

So far we have one side established, the board set with half the pieces. Tomorrow (or in our next post) we're going to establish who, besides the hapless Renee Guenon, has objected to the doctrine of reincarnation, and on what grounds they have done so. We will start with Aristotle.

Reincarnation

There are some questions in human life that admit of two nonconensurable answers of which every person seems disposed by temperament to pick one and only one. Speaking on one of these questions, Coleridge once famously remarked that

Every man is born an Aristotelian or a Platonist. I do not think it possible that anyone born an Aristotelian can become a Platonist; and I am sure that no born Platonist can ever change into an Aristotelian.

On the everyday level, it also seems to be the case that every man (and woman) is born a cat person or a dog person. Cat people like all, or nearly all cats, and if they like any dogs they do so on an individual basis; dog people like dogs in general, and may or may not like this or that cat. That is to say, cat people like the species "cat," with which, on a certain level, they identify; dog people like the species "dog" in the same way. If a dog person likes a cat, he likes it for its individual qualities (which often include being somewhat doglike). Tangentially, this is also the way that a dog person likes human beings-- not as a species, but individually.

Given the theory of transmigration of souls, which claims that each of us passes through successive animal incarnations before arriving at the level of the human being; and given the large populations of both dogs and cats and their proximity to human beings; it's tempting to wonder whether cat people are in fact human beings who lived many previous lives as cats, while dog people rose to humanity through the ranks of dogs. Whether or not this is the case, it brings us neatly to the thing I actually want to talk about today, which is the nature of reincarnation. For reincarnation is another one of these questions on which people tend to fall on one side or the other. Those who don't believe in it generally can't believe in it, while those who do believe in it often find that they can't believe otherwise.

What I'd like to do in this post-- which is likely to turn into several-- is to go into more detail on the doctrine of reincarnation or the transmigration of souls in the Western tradition, including the question of precisely what reincarnates and how it does so; objections to the doctrine; and whether there is a secret tradition of reincarnation within Christianity and other traditions which explicitly reject it.

Reincarnation in Plato

Plato taught the theory of reincarnation in many of his dialogues, including Meno, Phaedo, Phaedrus, Republic, Timaeus, Statesman and Laws. Of these, the Phaedo and Republic give the most extensive treatments of the topic. Let's look at what he has to say in these.

In the Phaedo, Plato has Socrates, facing execution, give an account of the fate of souls after death.

When the dead arrive at the place to which the genius of each severally guides them, first of all, they have sentence passed upon them, as they have lived well and piously or not. And those who appear to have lived neither well nor ill, go to the river Acheron, and embarking in any vessels which they may find, are carried in them to the lake, and there they dwell and are purified of their evil deeds, and having suffered the penalty of the wrongs which they have done to others, they are absolved, and receive the rewards of their good deeds, each of them according to his deserts. But those who appear to be incurable by reason of the greatness of their crimes—who have committed many and terrible deeds of sacrilege, murders foul and violent, or the like—such are hurled into Tartarus which is their suitable destiny, and they never come out. Those again who have committed crimes, which, although great, are not irremediable—who in a moment of anger, for example, have done violence to a father or a mother, and have repented for the remainder of their lives, or, who have taken the life of another under the like extenuating circumstances—these are plunged into Tartarus, the pains of which they are compelled to undergo for a year, but at the end of the year the wave casts them forth—mere homicides by way of Cocytus, parricides and matricides by Pyriphlegethon—and they are borne to the Acherusian lake, and there they lift up their voices and call upon the victims whom they have slain or wronged, to have pity on them, and to be kind to them, and let them come out into the lake. And if they prevail, then they come forth and cease from their troubles; but if not, they are carried back again into Tartarus and from thence into the rivers unceasingly, until they obtain mercy from those whom they have wronged: for that is the sentence inflicted upon them by their judges. Those too who have been pre-eminent for holiness of life are released from this earthly prison, and go to their pure home which is above, and dwell in the purer earth; and of these, such as have duly purified themselves with philosophy live henceforth altogether without the body, in mansions fairer still which may not be described, and of which the time would fail me to tell.

Some of these ideas are familiar from the Christian tradition. We have a pure home in the World Above, in which the good find release from earthly existence; we also have a dark world far, far below, into which the wicked are hurled, never to return. But we also have a middle realm, which is the Underworld as we usually think of it-- that is, Hades or the World of the Dead. This is not the same as Tartarus, the place into which those who commit massacres and sacrileges are cast. We are told in Homer's Iliad, in fact, that Tartarus is as far below Hades as our Earth is below Heaven. It thus forms a kind of middle term in the possible afterlives, for all of us who are not quite good enough for Heaven nor bad enough for Hell. Here the wicked are purified of their misdeeds, but after this receive their just reward. The presence of the middle term is important, as we shall see; it is one of the important differences between the thought of Plato and that of his wayward pupil Aristotle. And as we shall also see, Christianity for its first millennium followed Plato in most things, but Aristotle in this.

Notice, too, that there are two more middle terms, between the middle term itself and the extremes. Some among the worst are indeed cast into Tartarus, but after a year of torment they are given a chance to repent of their crimes. If their victims forgive them, they are allowed into the pleasant part of the Underworld, with everyone else; if not they must continue to undergo suffering and purification until they are forgiven. And note well-- it is not by God that they beg forgiveness, but those whom they have wronged. This idea is something that, from what I can tell, was totally lost in later traditions. Finally, we are told that those who have followed the disciplines of philosophy will be conducted to Heaven and never have to return to the Earth, but that they are are others will sojourn in Heaven for a time, and again descend.

So far, then, we have five possible conditions for a spirit after death: 1. Tartarus; 2. Tartarus temporarily; 3. Hades; 4. Heaven temporarily; 5. Heaven. To this list we might possibly add a sixth, potentially the same as the third, which is a kind of ghost, so attached to the physical form that it wanders about graveyards until the time comes for it to return to incarnation. Of all of these, groups 2, 3, 4 and 6 can all expect to return to incarnation in a body:

After death, as they say, the genius of each individual, to whom he belonged in life, leads him to a certain place in which the dead are gathered together, whence after judgment has been given they pass into the world below, following the guide, who is appointed to conduct them from this world to the other: and when they have there received their due and remained their time, another guide brings them back again after many revolutions of ages.

Those who return to earthly incarnation return to a form suited to the life that they previously lived:

Socrates: Men who have followed after gluttony, and wantonness, and drunkenness, and have had no thought of avoiding them, would pass into asses and animals of that sort. What do you think?

Cebes: I think such an opinion to be exceedingly probable.

Socrates: And those who have chosen the portion of injustice, and tyranny, and violence, will pass into wolves, or into hawks and kites;—whither else can we suppose them to go?

Cebes: Yes....

Socrates: Some are happier than others; and the happiest both in themselves and in the place to which they go are those who have practised the civil and social virtues which are called temperance and justice, and are acquired by habit and attention without philosophy and mind.

...they may be expected to pass into some gentle and social kind which is like their own, such as bees or wasps or ants, or back again into the form of man, and just and moderate men may be supposed to spring from them.

This treatment of the subject in the Phaedo is the most extensive in all of Plato's works, and fittingly, since the Phaedo is entirely concerned with death. In the Republic we are given a brief summary of the same, but with the added detail that the Dead are given the opportunity to choose what life they will live upon return to Earth. This is very much a mixed blessing, as many, without thinking, choose lives which appear good but which lead them to disaster:

...he who had the first choice came forward and in a moment chose the greatest tyranny; his mind having been darkened by folly and sensuality, he had not thought out the whole matter before he chose, and did not at first sight perceive that he was fated, among other evils, to devour his own children. But when he had time to reflect, and saw what was in the lot, he began to beat his breast and lament over his choice, forgetting the proclamation of the prophet; for, instead of throwing the blame of his misfortune on himself, he accused chance and the gods, and everything rather than himself. Now he was one of those who came from heaven, and in a former life had dwelt in a well-ordered State, but his virtue was a matter of habit only, and he had no philosophy.

And so we see that the system of reincarnation given by Plato is somewhat similar to that in Tibetan Buddhism. The ultimate goal of the spiritual life is to attain release from incarnation. This is done through the practice of philosophy, a word which we should understand similarly to the Sanskrit word yoga. Failing that, a temporary sojourn in the Heavenly realms or in the more pleasant part of the Underworld is possible for those who are relatively virtuous. Following a time spent in the spiritual worlds, most of us return to incarnation, and the specific form we take is determined in more ways than one by the life we lived previously.

Tomorrow we will talk about reincarnation elsewhere in the Graeco-Roman traditions, including in Pythagoras and Virgil, and hopefully come to Aristotle's objections to the doctrine.

Steve's Note

I've been neglecting this blog lately because my time has been limited. Last week I started several posts but ran out of time. This week and from henceforward I hope, I'm simply going to post whatever I have completed, even if it means cutting off in the middle of a sentence. See you tomorrow!

The Moral Argument for Reincarnation

The Christian moral argument for the existence of reincarnation is very straightforward. It is as follows:

1. At least some babies will die before baptism. This has always been the case, and would even be every maternity ward had priests standing in every delivery room to baptize every baby upon emergence from the womb, because between 10 and 25% of all pregnancies end in miscarriage.

2. An infant in the womb, or in the first two or three (some say seven) years of life, is incapable of sin.

3. Therefore, there will always be some babies who die in a state of total innocence.

The next part of the argument:

1. Accoreding to the Christian account sinless baby, upon death, may go either to Heaven or to Hell. (There are two other options within Roman Catholicism, which we will come to in due time.)

2. If to Hell, God is a monstrosity, for he has deliberately formed certain lives for no purpose other than to torment them for all time. Such a being is not a "God" but a monstrous demon, and we should pray for its defeat and ultimate repentance.

3. If to Heaven, and if Hell is a possibility for human beings once they become capable of sin, then universal human infanticide becomes a moral imperative. The reason is that eternal Hell is the worst imaginable evil, while Heaven is the greatest possible good. Earthly life is a mixture of good and evil in which evil typically predominates. By universal abortion, we may spare all human beings both of the comparatively moderate evils of Earthly life and the possibility of the greatest possible evil in Hell, while guaranteeing the greatest possible good to all in Heaven.

4. If God has created a situation in which universal infanticide is a moral imperative, then God is not and cannot be good. Such a God is no "God" but a monstrous demon, and we should pray for its defeat and ultimate repentance.

The final part of the argument:

1. The most just solution to the foregoing is simply that infants who die in the womb or in the early years of life are given another chance.

2. God always does what is most just.

3. Therefore, reincarnation exists.

Possible Variations:

1. An unbaptized infant goes not to Hell, but to the Limbus Infantium, a place of maximum natural happiness but deprived of the supernatural happiness which is caused by the beatific vision, which is to say, the vision of God. If this is not as cruel as a Hell of conscious torment, it is still needlessly cruel, as God has necessarily created some human souls which could experience the beatific vision but deprived them of it through no fault of their own. On the other hand, as maximum natural good (Limbo) is still preferable to maximum supernatural evil (Hell), we would still be justified in arguing for universal infanticide. Therefore, this is false.

2. An unbaptized baby goes to Heaven, but only after a sojourn in Purgatory. This is not taught in the tradition as far as I know. This runs into two problems. First, the nature of Purgatory is a mixture of good and evil-- according to the tradition one suffers, but is comforted by the presence of the saints, including the Queen of Heaven herself, and one's own guardian angel, and one's suffering can also be alleviated by the prayers of those on Earth. We may therefore say that, like Earthly life, Purgatory is a mix of good and evil, but that there the good predominates, owing to the direct experience of the saints and angels and the guarantee of Heaven at the end of the line. This therefore also argues for universal infanticide, and is therefore false.

3. Quem di dilligunt, adulescens moritur. This means "Whom the gods love, die young." This is the view that infants who die before baptism are conveyed directly to Heaven, but that the rest of us will also, universally, reach Heaven after a certain period of time which may well include a sojourn in Hell. On this perspective, the loss of a child, while a catastrophe from the perspective of the parent, is a blessing, indeed, a special grace, from the perspective of the child. Unlike the rest of us, who will have to wait an uncertain length of time before achieving Paradise, our lost children have been granted the grace of direct admission into the Kingdom of Heaven, without an earthly sojourn or the risk of temporary Hell. This only works if universal salvation is true, and could still be considered an argument for infanticide. Nevertheless, it is the best alternative.

What Which Cannot Be True

Some Christian saints have taught that "Even martyrdom is not enough to wash away the stain of heresy." That is to say, even if one loves Christ enough to die for Him, one will still be tormented in Hell for all of time if one happens to have gotten some of the details of his biography wrong. In many cases, the options on offer are equally plausible, and sometimes require specialized knowledge of ancient and medieval philosophy to even tell apart. Does homoiousios make more sense to you then homoousios? How about qui ex Patri filioque procedit? Into the fire with you! This bit of nonsense, unfortunately still preached by many, is contradicted by the following argument:

1. Jesus said unto him, Thou shalt love the Lord thy God with all thy heart, and with all thy soul, and with all thy mind. This is the first and great commandment.

2. Greater love hath no man than this, that he lay down his life for his friends.

Therefore, one who accepts martyrdom out of love has fulfilled the first and great commandment. (He said nothing at all about prefering homoousia to homoiousia.)

I tried to do some work at the Astrology Blog yesterday, but Dreamwidth apparently didn't like it, and so every attempted post came out mangled in some way. So let's return our attention to The Gospel of Matthew, and deal with a passage I've been trying to avoid. Matthew 11:11-15 reads:

11 Verily I say unto you, Among them that are born of women there hath not risen a greater than John the Baptist: notwithstanding he that is least in the kingdom of heaven is greater than he.

12 And from the days of John the Baptist until now the kingdom of heaven suffereth violence, and the violent take it by force.

13 For all the prophets and the law prophesied until John.

14 And if ye will receive it, this is Elias, which was for to come.

15 He that hath ears to hear, let him hear.

The Least In the Kingdom of Heaven

The first, and most obvious question is: Why is John the least in the Kingdom of Heaven?

The answer seems to be provided by the rest of the sentence. "Among those born of women" there is no one greater than John. Among the immortal spirits created by God-- that is to say, the Bodiless Powers or Angels-- all are greater...

...At least for the time being. After he quits his earthly form, John will ascend to quite an exalted place in the Heavens, as demonstrated by his invocation in the Confiteor, or the traditional Confession, of the Tridentine Rite:

I confess to Almighty God, to Blessed Mary, ever Virgin, to Blessed Michael the Archangel, to Blessed John the Baptist, to the Holy Apostles Peter and Paul, and to all the Saints, that I have sinned exceedingly in thought, word and deed, through my fault, through my fault, through my most grievous fault.

To sojourn upon the material Earth is always to be less than those who have achieved the Higher Life, beyond the body. But by our deeds on Earth we can rise very far indeed. Note that John is named right after St. Michael the Archangel, Prince of the Heavenly Host himself!

This Is Elias

In the fourteenth verse, Jesus explicitly calls John Elias-- that is, Elijah. It's hard to misread this, and yet Christians of every denomination have done their best to do so over the course of two millennia. Most of the commentaries that I've found on it tell us that what Jesus means is that John is "like" Elijah. I prefer to take the Man at his word; John is Elijah, returned.

Reincarnation

That the doctrine of the transmigration of the souls was taught by many in the early church is demonstrated by the fact that so many church fathers and later commenters felt the need to condemn it. Certainly it's taught in many other traditions as well. Plato discusses it explicitly in many of his dialogs, including Meno, Phaedo, Phaedrus, Republic and Timaeus, and later Platonists discussed it regularly. (For example, Sallust offers the very interesting suggestion that atheism may be a punishment for impiety in a prior lifetime. We all know people who cannot accept the existence of God or spirits, no matter how clearly the evidence is presented to them. Sallust's explanation accounts for that phenomenon nicely, as we're emerging from an era of grave impiety.) It's a central theme in Buddhist and Hindu texts, and discussed in Taoist writings as well. It's also found in certain esoteric and heretical Jewish and Muslim sects, and in tribal religions the world over. In more recent times Professor Ian Stevenson and his successors have compiled quite robust evidence for its reality. I've read that 51% of the world's population believes in reincarnation, including 25% of American Christians.

It's my view that reincarnation completes the Christian religion-- indeed, that it saves it. Where it fits into the traditional afterlife scheme is fairly straightforward.

In Catholic tradition, the possible afterlives are these:

1. Heaven -- Needs no comment
2. Purgatory -- A place in which sinners are purified before entrance into Heaven
3. Limbo -- A middle world, whose inhabitants experience every possible natural joy while being deprived of the supreme and supernatural joy that is only possible in the presence of God
4. Hell -- Also needs no comment

In the Phaedo, Plato gives us the following possibilities:

1. Heaven -- Beyond the physical world; here the gods dwell truly in their temples. The jewels that one finds so rarely upon the earth are ordinary stones in the heavenly realm.
2. The Underworld -- A pleasant place, in which the souls of those who have done well in life are rewarded
3. Tartaros, Possibility 1 -- A place of torment and punishment for the wicked, especially murderers. However, the souls in this part of Tartaros can be freed from punishment once their victims forgive them
4. Tartaros, Possibility 2 -- For those who commit grave impieties or mass murder. This part of Tartaros is the habitation of demonic beings; you get here by becoming like them; there is no return.

Every person in categories 2 and 3 will return to life in the material world in an appropriate form. That isn't always human-- the violent will return in the form of hawks or wolves, the promiscuous as rabbits, and so on.

It's worth noting that Plato gives different accounts of reincarnation in his other dialogs; we should look at the commonalities to extract a common principle, rather than seeing one or the other as a literal description of events in the after-death state.

The traditional Christian account is enriched by the possibility of reincarnation, which allows those who have endured suffering in Hell or purgatory or the liminal state of Limbo to return and try again-- at least sometimes. Jesus tells us later in the Gospel of Matthew that for those who blaspheme the Holy Spirit, no forgiveness is possible; this agrees with Plato's account of impiety. It seems that there are degrees of impiety, as there are of murder-- some may be forgiven, as Jesus tells us. What of the others? These are, I think, those who have set their will totally and inexorably against the Divine; their proper place in the universe is the realm of the demons. No, it isn't pleasant to think about.

Evolutionary Reincarnation

As a final note, I want to briefly mention the doctrine, popular in Occult circles, of evolutionary reincarnation. This holds that every being without exception comes into incarnation on the material plane as a stone or material substance. By slow degrees, the stone takes on greater capacities on the etheric plane, becoming a crystal-- a substance capable of manifesting effects at the energetic level, not just the material level. The crystal moves on to become a plant: A being with a fully developed material body and a fully developed energetic body, but no life at the astral level. After long ages, the plant takes on life as a tree, which is a plant that has begun to awaken to life on the Astral Plane. The tree dies, and in time the tree is reborn as an animal: a being with fully developed material, etheric, and astral bodies. Again, long ages pass, and the animal souls proceeds through varying levels of complexity, dwelling for a time (perhaps) as an insect, and then a fish or reptile, before finally ascending to the higher life of a mammal or intelligent bird. At last the day comes when the animal graduates to life as a human being-- an animal which has begun to awaken to the life of the Noetic Plane of being. Again, many lifetimes pass. At last the human develops a fully-functional noetic body, and inarnates as a spirit like an angel.

I have to tell you, I don't personally believe this doctrine, and I don't like it very much.

I'm not willing to outright reject it, because there is certainly some truth here. But I have found that attempting to put it into practice by living it as a truth turns the world very dull. I discovered this a few years ago. I had just been reading something on this subject, and I went into the woods to harvest herbs. I came upon a patch of mugwort, and sat beside it, as I sometimes do, to get to know it. I found that if I tried to see it through this point of view, it stopped being a mugwort, and became just a kind of stunted tree. It was growing (as mugworts do) in the shade of a large sycamore tree. And now the sycamore tree was nothing but a young animal, somehow less than a kitten, or a baby rat. And the very gods themselves were nothing but old men and women, mere human beings. I find that idea, frankly, blasphemous.

Now, I don't deny that something like evolutionary reincarnation actually is true. For whatever it's worth, I feel the same about the theory of biological evolution-- it's clearly untrue, but something like it is probably true. But I don't believe that the angels were once human beings; I think that they were always angels. I do believe that we, as human beings, are working our way back to a heavenly home from which we descended into matter. But how far did we descend? I don't know, but I don't believe that I was ever a plant. Moreover, I don't believe that a plant will ever become a human being, and-- this is critical-- if it did, I don't think that this would be any achievement, much less a reward!

One of our cats died recently. He was a fine old cat, absolutely loyal, kind to the children. Years ago, when I was going through one of the hardest times of my life, he made sure to sleep next to my head on my pillow every night. The night before he died, he made sure to sleep next to me again. He hadn't done it in years, because our female cat had claimed that spot and the two of them never got along. But he came back on his last night. He also made sure to go outside, even though it was cold, and he demanded a cooked fish for his dinner, which I allowed. And then he died. To be reborn as a human being would be, in my view, a very poor reward for such a fine creature! Let him rather become to living cats as saints are to living men.