Cultic Studies Review, Vol. 2, No. 3, 2003, Page 86
Madness, 259). Herein the author hints loudly as to his adopted philosophy, which explains
how and why he finds value where I do not—my weltanschauung differs from his.
Let me try to briefly elaborate. This difference goes beyond the social psychological
approach differences, say, between sociologists of religion who study these groups
―objectively‖ and mental health workers or therapists who assist former members of abusive
teachers. To say that there are different narratives between the anthropological model and
the medical model is another way to state the above. But Feuerstein is after something
more radical and spiritual. Persons as well as whole cultures adopt world views that become
essential operating mythologies or cosmologies—frameworks that guide their thoughts
about life experience, birth, death, and afterlife. When he talks about ―that larger Reality,‖
he specifically accepts the grand scheme of Advaita philosophy, the one that sees the
essential ―self‖ as Atman, which is identical with the ground of being, Brahman. In other
words, the human life force in its essence is uncreated and co-exists in eternity, albeit
trapped in a ―fallen‖ or corrupted form—in ―ignorance.‖ Enlightenment is that state of
awareness, not unlike gnosis, that mystically absorbs us in that consciousness of That.
Once absorbed or identified with the divine state (atman/brahman), the yogi is said to tap
paranormal abilities or siddhis. Though warnings about the pursuit of psychic powers,
magick, siddhis, and rituals to create miracles abound in every sophisticated religion, the
temptation is great to ―prove‖ that someone is enlightened or sanctified because they
demonstrate paranormal abilities. Both oral and written narratives about nearly all the crazy
adepts mentioned by Feuerstein in Holy Madness and in Mystery of Light flaunt the
miraculous powers of the masters. I am not ignoring the Jewish stories about Moses or the
miracle stories about Jesus. But let‘s go on.
Another world view, one that infuses mainline Jewish, Christian and Muslim philosophy,
holds that persons are created in time and can be lifted by God into a co-eternal state
through submission to the divine will and acceptance of God‘s great gift of life. This is
commonly known as theism, the ―Western‖ alternative to Feuerstein‘s monism. To proclaim
the kind of Self-realization a yogi claims would be blasphemy to a theist: the creature
cannot claim to be the Creator. Herein lies much of the contention between Theists and
Monists—the theist might argue that if God wills the disciple or saint to have miraculous
power, he or she will demonstrate it. The monist might argue that there are steps or
initiations one can take to attain the siddhis, that in fact we already have these powers but
our ignorance is in the way. The skeptic might argue that they are both full of idealistic
claptrap. There are other world views, however we will ignore protestations by neo-Gnostics
or the New Age argument that Jesus really wanted each of us to proclaim to be God. We will
also ignore the overworked, naïve belief of the liberal seeker who blathers that all paths
eventually lead to the same goal. Feuerstein is not naïve, but he does appreciate
philosophical kinsmen and that is why, I believe, he wrote such a kind biography promoting
Omraam Mikhaёl Aïvanhov in The Mystery of Light.
When I met Aïvanhov in 1984 I did not speak with him. I spoke with some of his disciples
and I heard him lecture. He struck me at first as an elegant character attired in a white suit,
sporting long white hair and beard, and carrying an ornamental cane. He wore large gold
rings on his pinky fingers. He appeared short to me (I‘m 5‘ 10 ―), but he definitely seemed
larger than life to his devotees. His English was poor and he apologized for that.
Nevertheless, after a devotee gave a proud introduction and a small choir sang two
Bulgarian folk songs, Aïvanhov pontificated for nearly three hours. I left after one hour to
get some coffee and to peruse one of his books. I returned for the final half-hour or so. By
the time I returned, fully 80% of the several hundred members of the audience had vacated
the auditorium, many of whom had given the requested $2 donation. In a word Aïvanhov
was boring. Despite his pedantic style and thickly accented English I managed to grasp
Madness, 259). Herein the author hints loudly as to his adopted philosophy, which explains
how and why he finds value where I do not—my weltanschauung differs from his.
Let me try to briefly elaborate. This difference goes beyond the social psychological
approach differences, say, between sociologists of religion who study these groups
―objectively‖ and mental health workers or therapists who assist former members of abusive
teachers. To say that there are different narratives between the anthropological model and
the medical model is another way to state the above. But Feuerstein is after something
more radical and spiritual. Persons as well as whole cultures adopt world views that become
essential operating mythologies or cosmologies—frameworks that guide their thoughts
about life experience, birth, death, and afterlife. When he talks about ―that larger Reality,‖
he specifically accepts the grand scheme of Advaita philosophy, the one that sees the
essential ―self‖ as Atman, which is identical with the ground of being, Brahman. In other
words, the human life force in its essence is uncreated and co-exists in eternity, albeit
trapped in a ―fallen‖ or corrupted form—in ―ignorance.‖ Enlightenment is that state of
awareness, not unlike gnosis, that mystically absorbs us in that consciousness of That.
Once absorbed or identified with the divine state (atman/brahman), the yogi is said to tap
paranormal abilities or siddhis. Though warnings about the pursuit of psychic powers,
magick, siddhis, and rituals to create miracles abound in every sophisticated religion, the
temptation is great to ―prove‖ that someone is enlightened or sanctified because they
demonstrate paranormal abilities. Both oral and written narratives about nearly all the crazy
adepts mentioned by Feuerstein in Holy Madness and in Mystery of Light flaunt the
miraculous powers of the masters. I am not ignoring the Jewish stories about Moses or the
miracle stories about Jesus. But let‘s go on.
Another world view, one that infuses mainline Jewish, Christian and Muslim philosophy,
holds that persons are created in time and can be lifted by God into a co-eternal state
through submission to the divine will and acceptance of God‘s great gift of life. This is
commonly known as theism, the ―Western‖ alternative to Feuerstein‘s monism. To proclaim
the kind of Self-realization a yogi claims would be blasphemy to a theist: the creature
cannot claim to be the Creator. Herein lies much of the contention between Theists and
Monists—the theist might argue that if God wills the disciple or saint to have miraculous
power, he or she will demonstrate it. The monist might argue that there are steps or
initiations one can take to attain the siddhis, that in fact we already have these powers but
our ignorance is in the way. The skeptic might argue that they are both full of idealistic
claptrap. There are other world views, however we will ignore protestations by neo-Gnostics
or the New Age argument that Jesus really wanted each of us to proclaim to be God. We will
also ignore the overworked, naïve belief of the liberal seeker who blathers that all paths
eventually lead to the same goal. Feuerstein is not naïve, but he does appreciate
philosophical kinsmen and that is why, I believe, he wrote such a kind biography promoting
Omraam Mikhaёl Aïvanhov in The Mystery of Light.
When I met Aïvanhov in 1984 I did not speak with him. I spoke with some of his disciples
and I heard him lecture. He struck me at first as an elegant character attired in a white suit,
sporting long white hair and beard, and carrying an ornamental cane. He wore large gold
rings on his pinky fingers. He appeared short to me (I‘m 5‘ 10 ―), but he definitely seemed
larger than life to his devotees. His English was poor and he apologized for that.
Nevertheless, after a devotee gave a proud introduction and a small choir sang two
Bulgarian folk songs, Aïvanhov pontificated for nearly three hours. I left after one hour to
get some coffee and to peruse one of his books. I returned for the final half-hour or so. By
the time I returned, fully 80% of the several hundred members of the audience had vacated
the auditorium, many of whom had given the requested $2 donation. In a word Aïvanhov
was boring. Despite his pedantic style and thickly accented English I managed to grasp
