The Eye of Prayer (February 2004)
It is one of the great ironies of
philosophy that, as the mind extends heavenward, thoughts invariably plummet
earthward. Philosophical momentum
propels the mind to the cerebral stratosphere and beyond, but without an
additional thrust, the gravitational pull of logic will prevail. Such is the case today, and such was the case
with the great Jewish and Islamic luminaries of the middle ages. As they reached for an understanding of God,
they consistently reverted to descriptions of mankind. Metaphysical might produced corporeal
concepts. Notwithstanding the apparent
exercise in futility, reasoning plays an important role in the search for truth
and meaning.
In fact, the perpetual failure of
reason points to truths that might otherwise be overlooked.
In book II of
Metaphysics Aristotle
wrote: “For as the eyes of bats are (to) the blaze of day, so is reason in our
soul to the things which are by nature most evident of all.”
[i] Perhaps it is not the fault of bats that they
are blind, but they don’t fly around in the daylight pretending to be eagles.
If reason in the soul is so blind, how will
truth ever be obtained?
Fortunately
Aristotle compared only one part of the soul, reason, to the eyes of bats.
Only a part of the soul is so utterly and
helplessly blind.
Thus, something other
that reason must dwell in the soul, something indispensable for understanding
things that are “most evident of all”.
At least a bat acknowledges its own blindness, and delicate sonar
instruments guide its flight.
What other
recourse remains when sight is abolished?
The science of vision permeated
Medieval Jewish and Islamic philosophy to such a degree that the boundary
between visual reality and visual metaphor was all but erased. In other words, thinkers such as Al-Kindi,
Ibn Sina, Isaac Israeli and Maimonides studied optics and visual theories with
a view toward opening the door to the knowledge of God. The study of the eye was just as much, if not
more, a spiritual endeavor as it was a scientific practice. Paradoxically, in light of the discoveries of
the medieval philosophers, the symbol of the eye reveals man’s blindness and
foolishness, while simultaneously leading the way to man’s potential clarity of
vision and god-like intelligence.
Of course, optical symbolism did not
originate in medieval Spain or Persia.
Visual metaphors can be traced through the works of earlier philosophers
such as Plato, and through scientists such as Euclid and Ptolemy.
By the time Greek texts were made available
to Arab translators and interpreters, many developments had already occurred in
the field of optics.
But the Arab
translators did more than just translate – they transformed and perfected the
metaphors that they inherited.
The works
of Hunayn Ibn Ishaq, based on the science of Euclid and Ptolemy, as well as the
anatomy and physiology of Galen, were particularly influential in later works.
[ii]
Qusta Ibn Luqa
wrote one of the first books of Arabic optics, in which he praised the science:
The best
demonstrative science is that in which physical science and geometrical science
participate communally, because it takes from physical science the sensory perception
and takes from geometrical science demonstrations with the help of lines.
I have found nothing where these two
disciplines are united in a more beautiful or perfect way than in the science
of rays, above all, those which are reflected onto mirrors.
[iii]
Qusta Ibn Luqa was not alone in his
enthusiasm for optics.
A contemporary of
Qusta Ibn Luqa, Al-Kindi, wrote the
Liber de causis diversitatum aspectus
(
De aspectibus), in which he defined a ray as: “an impression of the
luminous body on an opaque body…”
[iv] Al-Kindi modified some earlier theories of
vision to assert that the eye emitted rays of light in all directions from the
surface of the eye.
In this way, the eye
could actually work as an extension of the body, “touching”, as it were,
visible objects.
With great respect and
gratitude for past philosophers, Al-Kindi nevertheless corrected and improved
upon their theories.
One important
characteristic of Al-Kindi’s own theory of vision was that God created the eye
in a spherical shape and gave it mobility in order to move around and choose
the direction in which to send out light rays.
[v]
Al-Kindi wrote on a variety of
subjects, but his theories on vision closely parallel his more philosophic
works.
As it was his goal to discover
“the knowledge of the true nature of things”
[vi], the
“knowledge of divinity”, and to assist truth and support veracity, the study of
vision occupied much of his thought.
Al-Kindi’s work on vision demonstrates a concern both for attaining the
truth and for discovering how truth is obtained.
His search for lofty truths, beyond physical
vision, ironically brought him back to the study of something very physical and
close at hand, that is, the eye.
Thus,
while striving for spiritual knowledge, a physical reality commanded his utmost
attention.
Approximately one century after elaborating
upon the extromissive theories of vision, Al-Kindi's work met considerable
opposition. The Persian philosopher
Avicenna (980-1037) refuted Al-Kindi's explanation of vision in favor of a more
Aristotelian view:
As to the seeing
power, philosophers have differed on the question of how they perceive.
Thus one set among them asserts that they
perceive wholly and solely through a ray that shoots out beyond the eye, and so
encounters the sensible objects that are seen.
This is Plato's way.
Others
assert that the perceiving power itself encounters the sensible objects that
are seen, and so perceives them.
Still
others say that visual perception consists in this: - when an intervening
transparent body becomes effectively transparent by light shining upon it, then
an impression of the outspread [flattened] individual of such sensible objects
as are seen is effected in the crystalline lens of the eye, just such a
pictorial impression as is effected in looking-glasses [mirrors]; indeed the
two effects are so similar that were mirrors possessed of a seeing power they
would perceive the form imprinted in them.
This is Aristotle's way; and it is the sound reliable opinion.
[vii]
If opinions differ so
greatly on the nature of physical vision, how can one hope for a philosophical
consensus concerning the nature of spiritual vision or knowledge of the
truth? That is, if human beings fail to comprehend
even simple physical objects, how can they expect to grasp lofty spiritual
ideals? How can truth be known? Avicenna's refutation of Al-Kindi's theories
on vision, and his deeply spiritual works On Prophecy and On Prayer,
provide insights for responding to such questions.
First of all, Avicenna's theory of
vision seems much more passive than that of Al-Kindi or the Platonists. Sight is a result of light coming into, not
flowing out of, the eye. Although such passivity
may seem to limit the potential of the eye, Avicenna's writings affirm that the
opposite is true. The purpose of the soul,
like the purpose of the eye, is to receive light:
The function of the
human, rational soul is the noblest function of all, for it is itself the
noblest of spirits.
Its function
consists of reflecting upon things of art and meditating upon things of beauty;
its gaze being turned toward the higher world, it loves not this lower abode
and meaner station.
Belonging as it does
to the higher side of life and to the primal substances, it is not its business
to eat and drink, neither does it require luxury and coition; rather its
function is to wait for the revelation of truths, and to reflect with perfect
intuition and unclouded wit upon the perception of subtle ideas, reading with
the eye of inner vision the tablet of Divine Mystery and opposing with
strenuous devices the causes of vain fancy.
[viii]
Here Avicenna has
rocketed deep into religious space, amongst the stars of beauty, revelation and
divinity, yet his speech is locked into orbit around quite corporeal notions,
such as the eye. This orbit, rather than
restricting knowledge of how truth is obtained, actually directs the mind in a
better direction. Something other than
reason must inhabit the soul. The inner,
spiritual eye, of which the outer eye is the physical manifestation, must be
the key to receiving and understanding truth.
Of course, Avicenna equated the
inner eye with reason, and not something apart from reason. But his definition of reason departs from
conventional definitions, and it even differs from Aristotle's definition of
blind reason. In sum, Avicenna's idea of
reason is not necessarily Reason in the strictly rational sense. Avicenna's reason moves away from blind
reason, portrayed as bats in Aristotle, to a seeing reason, an inner eye. But what is the difference between these two
reasons? Why is the one reason blind,
and the other endowed with sight?
Answers to these questions can be gleaned
from Avicenna's treatise On Prayer.
Avicenna rates prayer as the pinnacle of worship and the ultimate
expression of reason. It is through
prayer that man connects with God. To
extend the analogy, the physical eye is to light as the inner, spiritual eye is
to prayer:
The Prophet's
words, "The man at prayer is in secret converse with his Lord," are
therefore only to be predicated of that inward knowledge which belongs solely
to pure souls that are abstracted and free from events in time and directions
in space: they contemplate God intellectually, and behold Him with spiritual,
not corporeal vision.
It is thus evident
that true prayer is spiritual contemplation, and that pure worship is spiritual
Divine love.
[ix]
Therefore, the
inner eye is blessed with sight inasmuch as it focuses on God in prayer. Prayer is the missing piece for the blind
reason described by Aristotle. Truth is
obtained when the inner eye is opened through prayer, willing to receive light.
Fascination with the physical and
the spiritual eye was not unique to the Arab philosophers. Isaac Israeli, a Jewish contemporary of
Al-Kindi, worked as an oculist in Egypt.
Israeli was later promoted to the position of court physician, but evidences
of his training in optics surface in later works, such as the Book on the
Elements. In this work, Israeli describes
the teaching methods of the great doctors.
Corporeal forms are presented because of their proximity and
accessibility to the brain. Like Avicenna,
Israeli believed that reason played a fundamental role in communication with
God:
For when the
Creator wishes to reveal to the soul what He intends to innovate in this world,
He makes intellect the intermediary between Himself and the soul, even as the
prophet is an intermediary between the Creator, blessed be He, and the rest of
His creatures.
It is only the corporeal
and imaginative form which will be impressed upon the
sensus communis,
thanks to the prevalence of the corporeal sense upon it.
This is due to the proximity of the
sensus
communis to the corporeal sense, seeing that it [the
sensus communis]
is intermediate between the corporeal sense of sight and the imaginative
faculty, which resides in the anterior ventricle of the brain and is called
fantasiya.
It is for this reason that it is called
'common sense', for it receives from the corporeal sense, i.e. that of sight,
the corporeal aspects of things and transmits them to the spiritual sense
mentioned before, i.e. the imaginative faculty.
[x]
Israeli confirms
the importance of physical vision in the learning process, but he also
recognizes the superiority of spiritual vision or vision with the inner eye:
For some are
animal-like and foolish, who will never allow anything to enter their minds and
to occupy their thoughts except what they have perceived with their senses and
seen with their own eyes.
Others are
intelligent, of an inquiring mind, keep their eyes open to the truth of words,
and distinguish between their spiritual and corporeal meaning.
[xi]
Once again, the
philosopher speaks of the eye both literally and metaphorically. Israeli agrees that the physical eye by
itself is blind, but he also accents the relationship between it and the
spiritual or inner eye. Similar to
Avicenna, this inner eye is the intellect.
Furthermore, this inner eye receives truth through prayer, first by
contemplating the physical manifestations of truth, and later embracing the essence
of the truth itself.
Thus far the philosophers have begun
to respond to the question: why is the inner eye necessary for apprehending the
truth? But none of these philosophers epitomizes
the paradoxes of knowledge and vision as much as Moses Ben Maimon. Ironically, Maimonides' perplexities and
entanglements of thought unravel the beautiful simplicity of the knowledge of
God. Through seemingly complex and
convoluted optical symbolism, a simple and predictable pattern emerges, guiding
the mind like the delicate sonar instruments guide bats. This pattern, hinted at by Al-Kindi, Avicenna
and Israeli, is a witnesses of the power needed to escape the stubborn gravitational
pull of logic.
Maimonides is quick to admit that
the acquisition of truth is not an easy process. At the beginning of The Guide of the
Perplexed he confesses:
You should not
think that these great
secrets are fully and completely known to anyone
among us.
They are not.
But sometimes truth flashes out to us so that
we think that it is day, and then matter and habit in their various forms
conceal it so that we find ourselves again in an obscure night, almost as we
were at first.
We are like someone in a
very dark night over whom lightning flashes time and time again.
Among us there is one for whom the lightning
flashes time and time again, so that he is always, as it were, in unceasing
light.
[xii]
These flashes of
light are only caught by prayer or the open inner eye.
When explaining the use of parables,
Maimonides introduces optical metaphor to his great work: "My remarking
that it is a parable will be like someone's removing a screen from between the
eye and a visible thing."
[xiii] He even professes that the eyes of those who
study his guide will be
delighted!
In the fourth chapter of the Guide,
Maimonides expounds upon different verbs that apply to the eye: to see, to look
at, and to vision. According to
Maimonides:
Every mention of
seeing, when referring to God, may He be exalted, has this figurative meaning –
as when Scripture says: I saw the Lord; And the Lord became seen to him; And
God saw that it was good; I beseech Thee, let me see Thy glory; And they saw
the God of Israel.
All this refers to
intellectual apprehension and in no way to the eye's seeing, as the eye can
only apprehend a body, one that is placed in some direction and, in addition,
with some of the accidents of the body, I mean the body's coloring, shape and
so forth.
Similarly God, may He be
exalted, does not apprehend by means of an instrument, as will be explained
later.
[xiv]
Like the
philosophers that preceded him, Maimonides focused on the spirituality or
incorporeality of deity, and his insistence on this teaching found expression
in optical metaphors. This expression,
contrasting the physical and the spiritual eye, actually contradicts his
teachings about the incorporeal nature of God.
Of course, Maimonides claimed to teach by deliberate contradictions, but
this is perhaps one contradiction that was not deliberate. By insisting on the exclusively spiritual
vision of God, or "seeing" God through contemplation, Maimonides'
argument recoils upon itself. A pattern
emerges in which prayer, spiritual vision, is inextricably bound to physical
vision. The more Maimonides persists in
proving God's physical invisibility, the more his argument relies upon physical
realities, such as the eye.
For
example, Maimonides claims that:
The purpose of
everyone endowed with intellect should be wholly directed to rejecting
corporeality with respect to God, may He be exalted, and to considering all
these apprehensions as intellectual, not sensory.
[xv]
This invitation,
however noble and well intentioned, raises unavoidable suspicions. The more the philosophers fight against
corporeality, the more their discourse is physically bound. This is not, as it would seem, a failure on
their part, but simply a reminder that if even the physical world exceeds human
comprehension, then the spiritual world is light years away. In other words, if philosophers fail to
understand even the physical eye, how can they expect to understand the
spiritual eye? If philosophers cannot
admit that reason is blind, how will they ever see by means of prayer?
In the Mishneh Torah: The Book of
Knowledge, Maimonides at least acknowledges his own blindness by quoting
the prophet Isaiah:
'Eye hath not seen
beside Thee, O God, what He prepareth for him that waiteth for Him.' (Is.
64:3); that is, the bliss which neither the eye of the prophet nor any one else
but God, hath seen, He hath prepared for the man who waits for Him.
The sages say, 'All the prophets prophesied
concerning the days of the Messiah.
But
the world to come, 'no eye hath seen but Thine, O God'.
[xvi]
Thus Maimonides'
confesses that the acquisition of truth depends upon the opening of the spiritual
eye, and receiving that which the closed spiritual eye or the weak physical eye
cannot receive. The opening and focusing
of the spiritual eye is both strenuous and rewarding:
Man needs to
subordinate all his soul's powers to thought, in the way we set forth in the
previous chapter, and to set his sight on a single goal: the perception of God
(may He be glorified and magnified), I mean, knowledge of Him, in so far as
that lies within man's power.
He should
direct all his actions, both when in motion and at rest, and all his
conversation toward this goal so that none of his actions is in any way
frivolous, I mean an action not leading to this goal.
For example, he should make his aim only the
health of his body when he eats, drinks, sleeps, has sexual intercourse, is
awake, and is in motion or at rest.
The
purpose of his body's health is that the soul find its instruments healthy and
sound in order that it can be directed toward the sciences and toward acquiring
the moral and rational virtues, so that he might arrive at that goal.
[xvii]
Maimonides teaches
that the only way to know the truth is to direct all powers and faculties
toward the source of the truth.
Only the
man who "directs all the powers of his soul solely toward God"
[xviii] will obtain the truth.
As
with preceding philosophers, Maimonides includes physical appetites and
passions among the parts of the soul that must be channeled. This arduous work includes all of the
rational soul, but is not limited to it, blind as it is. It includes the physical and the whole body,
but neither is it limited by these. This
work, the opening of the spiritual eye, which may be called prayer, lifts the
veil that obscures our view of the things which are most evident of all. The philosophers of medieval Judaism and
Islam, implementing the ostensibly complex symbolism of the eye, actually
demonstrate the plainness and simplicity required for receiving and
understanding truth. Just as the
physical eye cannot see without light, neither can the spiritual eye see
without prayer.
Works Cited and Consulted
Lindberg, David C. Studies in the
History of Medieval Optics. London: Variorum
Reprints, 1983.
Macy, Dr. Jeffrey. Jewish and
Islamic Theology and Philosophy in the Middle Ages.
Reader, Volume 1.
Hebrew University School for Overseas Students.
Mahdi, Mushin and Ralph Lerner. Medieval
Political Philosophy. Itahaca, NY:
Cornell University
Press, 1963.
Moses Maimonides. The Guide of
the Perplexed. Volume 1. Trans. Shlomo Pines.
Chicago: The
University of Chicago Press, 1963.
Plotinus. On Beauty. Daedalus
Boston: Fall 2002. Vol. 131, Iss. 4, pp. 27-34.
Rasheed, Roshdi. Encyclopedia of
The History of Arabic Science. Vol. 2. London:
Routledge, 1996.
Smith, A. Mark. "What is the
History of Medieval Optics Really About?" Proceedings
of the American
Philosophical Society. Philadelphia: Jun 2004. Vol. 148, Iss. 2, pp. 180-194.
Strauss, Leo. "Persecution and
the Art of Writing." Westport Connecticut: Greenwood
Press, 1988, pp.
7-21.
[xii] Maimonides,
Guide,
pp. 7
