There is a lovely story in Thomas Merton's version of Chuang Tzu's writings about a wheelwright who meets Duke Hwan. Phien, the wheelwright finds the duke reading some tomes and asks what they are. The duke says that they are the writings of the experts, the authorities. When Phien ascertains that these experts are all dead, he suggests to the duke that all he will get from them is the dirt they left behind. As a wheelwright, he knows that the only knowledge that will count for him comes from experience. He cannot even pass this knowledge on to his son- he has to find out for himself the correct balance in the wheel. He will know when he finds it.
It is a common theme in much religious and philosophical writings that the deepest kind of knowledge can only be acquired through direct experience and this is often expressed in strongly colourful terms such as the famous dictum that if one were to meet the Buddha on the road, one should kill him. I think there is a lot of wisdom in this insight and I think it is true that there are some intuitions that cannot be transmitted second-hand. One only knows how to pray by praying.
But there is a significant tradition that cautions against such pure experientialism. It may be that the intuitions one finds about the deeper aspects of the spiritual life only come when one has a deep grounding in the thinking, ritual and reflection of a mature tradition and in the company of those who have travelled further along the road than we have. Perhaps the call to let go of all the 'dirt' of inherited theoretical wisdom only comes to those who have walked as far as they can with it.
Philip Sheldrake's excellent Brief History of Spirituality would certainly come down on the side of respect for the depths of inherited written tradition and in this he stands against a scholarly approach typified by that of William James that sees 'pure' religious experience as the only significant aspect of the mystical life.
When it comes to the realm of respectful encounter between different faiths, there is a strong case to be made for focussing on the experiential dimension of the faiths involved. Indeed, there can be a powerful sharing of practice in silence between those who do not share a religious identity and it is tempting to see this as a more genuine encoutner than that which focusses on ideas. Does it really matter whether or not a Buddhist's conception of 'emptiness' or 'nothingness' differs from a Christian's talk of 'humility' and 'kenosis'?
I think it does. Not that these differences should be a cause for division, far from it. Indeed, they can be a cause of greater insight both to the other's faith and to one's own. Understanding the theoretical background to religious experience gives us the conceptual tools to discern the nature of our experience. It is not a substitute for that experience but a way of allowing us to see it more clearly. Theoretical knowledge also helps avoid a kind of obscurantism that can too easily creep into religious thinking, making it less accessible to those who want to look at it critically.
Religious faith is profoundly and probably even fundamentally experiential. However, we need to take care to expose our experience to the truthful light of wisdom so that we know its roots to be firm and true.
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