One thing I really appreciate about this piece is the pushback against the modern tendency to reduce ancient religion—especially the Greeks—to a kind of proto-scientific rationalism. There’s something important in recovering the fact that religious life, for them, was often immediate, affective, and at times overwhelming. That dimension does feel underrepresented in how we talk about both ancient and modern faith.
That said, I wonder if the pendulum swings a bit too far in equating the divine primarily with the irrational or ecstatic. A Pauline reading of Christian experience seems to preserve both inspiration and agency. In First Epistle to the Corinthians 14:32, Paul explicitly says “the spirits of the prophets are subject to the prophets,” which suggests that even in genuinely spiritual moments, the individual is not overtaken or displaced, but remains responsible and self-aware. Likewise, the “fruit of the Spirit” in Epistle to the Galatians includes self-control, which feels like an important counterpoint to the idea that divine encounter necessarily entails loss of control.
Personally, I don’t read this as a call to suppress emotional or ecstatic experience, nor to retreat into hyper-rationalism. Rather, it seems to point toward a kind of balance: that a person can be moved, inspired, even deeply affected, while still remaining in control—able to weigh what is heard, seen, and experienced against what is true, and then decide how to respond. In that sense, the presence of discernment doesn’t diminish the experience; it gives it form and direction.
So perhaps the distinction isn’t simply rational vs. irrational, but between different kinds of experience—those that overwhelm and fragment the self, and those that engage and transform it without erasing it. The ancient world may help us recover the reality of encounter, but the New Testament seems to insist that such encounters are not purely chaotic—they are also ordered, discernible, and participatory.
Thank... later Christians, specifically Augustine, are more clear on the overt association between irrationality and demonic activity. That demons themselves are eratic, irrational, and unpredictable, as a result of complete separation from the Logos. They tended to emphasize internal action, rational willing, rather than the invasion of external forces.
We're dealing with two different metaphysical conceptions here, particularly the identification of soul upon Logos (or "rational souls") or upon Psyche. The latter, though it is commonly associated with the mind, refers to subconscious or rather preconscious activity, and is therefore irrational. We would expect those who elevate reason as the highest metaphysical good to see blessings entailed in an alignment with it, but this is somewhat foreign to archaic Greeks.
As for the Germans, Schopenhauer separates the intellect from the will for related reasons, and Klages inverts this by identifying the will with the intellect. They are both identifying these as their own forces as you are, but with differing degrees in which they place value or weight upon them respectively.
3rd part will answer these in more detail. But as far as what I advocate for, I reject the idea that anyone could behave rationally before God, as if he were his normal self across a brunch table from him. If we hope to rediscover what it means to be religious, comfort must be found with the idea of being thrown into irrational disarray, and to cease one's effort to "think our way to God".
This was very beautifully written.
It can do a great deal of good to let quiet the process of thought and do melt into the images of nature which great you in the forest.
Rationality will let you build a ship or win a war. But it won't give you joy, peace or a sense of meaning.
algo boost o algo
One thing I really appreciate about this piece is the pushback against the modern tendency to reduce ancient religion—especially the Greeks—to a kind of proto-scientific rationalism. There’s something important in recovering the fact that religious life, for them, was often immediate, affective, and at times overwhelming. That dimension does feel underrepresented in how we talk about both ancient and modern faith.
That said, I wonder if the pendulum swings a bit too far in equating the divine primarily with the irrational or ecstatic. A Pauline reading of Christian experience seems to preserve both inspiration and agency. In First Epistle to the Corinthians 14:32, Paul explicitly says “the spirits of the prophets are subject to the prophets,” which suggests that even in genuinely spiritual moments, the individual is not overtaken or displaced, but remains responsible and self-aware. Likewise, the “fruit of the Spirit” in Epistle to the Galatians includes self-control, which feels like an important counterpoint to the idea that divine encounter necessarily entails loss of control.
Personally, I don’t read this as a call to suppress emotional or ecstatic experience, nor to retreat into hyper-rationalism. Rather, it seems to point toward a kind of balance: that a person can be moved, inspired, even deeply affected, while still remaining in control—able to weigh what is heard, seen, and experienced against what is true, and then decide how to respond. In that sense, the presence of discernment doesn’t diminish the experience; it gives it form and direction.
So perhaps the distinction isn’t simply rational vs. irrational, but between different kinds of experience—those that overwhelm and fragment the self, and those that engage and transform it without erasing it. The ancient world may help us recover the reality of encounter, but the New Testament seems to insist that such encounters are not purely chaotic—they are also ordered, discernible, and participatory.
Curious how you’d reconcile that tension.
Thank... later Christians, specifically Augustine, are more clear on the overt association between irrationality and demonic activity. That demons themselves are eratic, irrational, and unpredictable, as a result of complete separation from the Logos. They tended to emphasize internal action, rational willing, rather than the invasion of external forces.
We're dealing with two different metaphysical conceptions here, particularly the identification of soul upon Logos (or "rational souls") or upon Psyche. The latter, though it is commonly associated with the mind, refers to subconscious or rather preconscious activity, and is therefore irrational. We would expect those who elevate reason as the highest metaphysical good to see blessings entailed in an alignment with it, but this is somewhat foreign to archaic Greeks.
As for the Germans, Schopenhauer separates the intellect from the will for related reasons, and Klages inverts this by identifying the will with the intellect. They are both identifying these as their own forces as you are, but with differing degrees in which they place value or weight upon them respectively.
3rd part will answer these in more detail. But as far as what I advocate for, I reject the idea that anyone could behave rationally before God, as if he were his normal self across a brunch table from him. If we hope to rediscover what it means to be religious, comfort must be found with the idea of being thrown into irrational disarray, and to cease one's effort to "think our way to God".