But Kant's doctrine, as he stated it, is in many ways problematic and dissatisfying. The form of philosophical idealism which I myself defend goes in certain respects far beyond Kant's position. The "one experience," in which, according to him, we find a place for any fact which we conceive as knowable at all, is defined by Kant as a virtual insight, not, so to speak, a live and concrete consciousness. He regards it also as purely human, as a knowledge of appearances--not of any ultimate realities. The form of philosophical idealism which, at the last time, I outlined depends, however, upon simply universalising, and rendering live and concrete, Kant's conception of the Self, of the united experience, to which we appeal, and in the light of which our opinions get all their sense--all their character and value as true or as false opinions. [{123}] This one Self, this unity of experience, to which we always appeal, cannot consistently be viewed by us as merely our own individual or private self, or as merely human; and its insight cannot rationally be interpreted merely as an insight into what is apparent, that is into what is not really real. Nor can it be viewed merely as something virtual--a possible unity of experience, to which we would appeal if we could. In my opinion it must be conceived as more live and real and concrete and conscious and genuine than are any of our passing moments of fleeting human experience. It must be viewed as an actual and inclusive and divinely rational knowledge of all facts in their unity. And the very nature of facts, their very being as facts, must be determined by their presence as objects in the experience of this world-embracing insight. This was the philosophical theory that I sketched in my former lecture. This is my view of what reason teaches.
Now this thesis, this somewhat remote descendant of the Platonic doctrine of the function of reason, this modern version of the concept of the "Logos" as the light that "shineth in the darkness" of our ordinary human experience, this revision and transformation of the Kantian theory of knowledge, has, by virtue of the long history of the doctrine in question, and by virtue of the difficult considerations upon which, as a philosophical thesis, it rests, a highly technical character. This technical aspect of the teaching in question forbids, in these lectures. [{124}] any adequate exposition, or criticism, or defence of its problems and of its merits as a basis for a system of philosophy. And you will surely not find unnatural the fact that a study of the function of the reason should indeed involve such technical and complex issues. I mention these issues only to say at once how and how far, in the present lectures, we are concerned with them.
We are seeking a way of salvation. And in these discussions we are mainly concerned with the sources of insight into what that way is. I am not attempting to work out, in your presence, a systematic philosophy. Why, then, have I introduced this mere sketch of philosophical idealism into our inevitably crowded programme? I answer: I have done so because I have wanted to illustrate the office of reason by telling you in my own way how I view the matter. The reason is, in fact, a source of religious insight to many people who do not reflect upon its deliverances as philosophers seek to reflect, and who may not agree with me in what little I have time to expound of my own philosophical opinions. My effort has been to tell in philosophical terms what such people really mean.
In such people reason very often shows itself indirectly and concretely, by its fruits, through their deeds, through their purpose, in a word, through their will. We shall ere long see how this can be and is the case. Reason is present in such lives and inspires them. A genuine relation to some [{125}] spirit of all truth, a perfectly sincere touch with an articulate and universal insight, a translation of the lesson and the meaning of the synthetic reason into a definite practical postulate that life shall be and is an essentially reasonable and therefore an essentially divine enterprise--such I find to be the essence of the religious insight of many serious minds. Beside the earnest devotion of such people to the business which life assigns to them, the mere theories of a philosopher may seem shadowy enough. And if such people comment upon what they hear of my philosophy by saying that they do not understand it, and doubt whether they agree with it, I am not on that account at all disposed to complain of them, or to assert that reason is to them no source of religious insight. I take pleasure, however, in observing that, in my opinion, they agree with my doctrine in the concrete, and express it in their religious life far better than I can express it in my technical terms, however much these people may fail to grasp what my terms mean or to accept my formulations. The best expression of your reason is your life, if you live as one enlightened from above ought to live. You are not obliged to accept a technical formula in order to embody the spirit of that formula in your daily work. I know many men who are far more the servants and ministers of the true rational insight than, in my present human life, I shall ever succeed in becoming, and who, nevertheless, either are impatient of every [{126}] philosophical theory, or, if philosophically trained, are opposed to me in my philosophy.
Nevertheless, I need to express, in my own way, what is the insight that is really at the heart of the lives of just such people. What I am first interested in emphasising is of course this, that, in my opinion, my interpretation of the insight of which reason is the source, actually expresses one important aspect of the spirit in which those live whom I regard as the true servants of the divine reason. But my interest in the matter does not cease here. I can, of course, express my opinions only in the terms that appeal to me. But whatever you think of my formulas, I am very anxious to have you see that, as the life of such people convincingly shows, reason has been, and is, a source of religious insight to them, and that our philosophical differences relate simply to the way in which we formulate our interpretation of the meaning of this source.
Reason has been such a source of insight. That is true as an historical fact. If you can find anything in the Platonic dialogues which appeals to you as involving an insight that has religious value, you must recognise this truth. It is a mere matter of history that Christian doctrine as it has come down to us is, in one aspect, profoundly affected by Plato's influence. The myth of the men in the cave, in the "Platonic Republic," the myth in Plato's "Phaedrus," which tells about the banishment of the soul from its heavenly life and from its intercourse with the [{127}] ideal world, and which interprets all our loftier human loves as a longing of the soul for its divine home land--these myths are allegories which Plato intended to illustrate his own view of what reason teaches us. These myths express in figurative speech a philosophy that actually affects to-day your own religious interests. For instance, this philosophy influences your traditional conception of God, and your ideas about the immortal life of the soul. And if the prologue of the Fourth Gospel seems to you to contain any truth, your religious ideas are again moulded by a form of ancient philosophy which dealt with the nature and with the insight of the reason. My own sketch of modern philosophy is but a reinterpretation of the very truth which that ancient doctrine attempted to portray. Historically, then, some of your religious opinions are actually due to the work of the reason. My philosophy simply tries to interpret to you this work.
And reason not only has been, but now is, such a source of insight. And this is the case whenever you try to apply the "rule of reason" to any problem of your life, and hereby gain a confidence that, by being as reasonable and fair as you can, you are learning to conform your life to the view which, as you suppose, an all-wise God takes of its meaning. My philosophy simply tries to tell you why you have a right to hold that an all-wise being is real.
I am anxious, I say, to have such facts about the [{128}] office of reason recognised, whatever you may think of my philosophy. And this is my purpose when I use my philosophy merely to illustrate the office of reason. For indispensable as individual religious experience is, in all the capriciousness of its feelings--indispensable also as social religious experience is, with all its insistence upon human love and also upon human religious convention--the synthetic use of the reason, that is, the systematic effort "to see life steadily and see it whole," is also indispensable. The recent efforts to make light of the work of reason--efforts to which, at the last lecture, I directed your attention, would tend, if taken by themselves, to result in basing religion upon an inarticulate occultism, upon a sort of psychical research that would regard whatever witch may peep and mutter, whatever mystic may be unable to tell what he means, whatever dumb cry of the soul may remain stubbornly inarticulate, as a more promising religious guide than is any form of serious and far-seeing devotion to the wider insight, which ought to survey life and to light our path.
Let my own appeal to philosophy, then, even if you do not agree with my formulas, stand as my protest against occultism and against the exclusive devotion to the inarticulate sources of religious insight. That I also prize the perfectly indispensable office of the more child-like intuitions, when they occupy their true place, you already know from my first two lectures. We cannot in our present life [{129}] do without these child-like intuitions. We cannot be just to them without aiming to live beyond them and to put away childish things.