SEPTEMBER 7 2019 LISTENER 23
the Mishnah [the first major written collec-
tion of Jewish oral traditions] could never
have taken root among the people.
L
ong before they had any scriptures,
the early Christians had com-
memorated Jesus’ horrific death in
a ceremonial meal. Later, the splendour
of Byzantine liturgy would transform the
participants’ perception of both Christ and
themselves. In western Europe, Benedictine
monks chanted the entire Psalter [the Book
of Psalms], interspersed with scriptural read-
ings, every week, an exercise that required
breath control and ritualised genuflections
and bowing, physical disciplines that taught
them attitudes of reverence at a level deeper
than the cerebral. The haunting, repeti-
tive cadences of the Gregorian chant also
restricted and bound the rational, discursive
activity of the left brain so that the monks
were open to the intuitive vision of the
right.
The Quran is called “The Recitation”. From
the very beginning, the Prophet drew on the
Eastern tradition of sacred sound, and the
Quran records the extraordinary effect it had
on its first audiences. Quranic recitation is
the major art form in the Islamic world. It
evokes a state known as huzn, designed spe-
cifically to give audiences what Christians
used to call “the gift of tears”. When West-
erners claim to have “read” the Quran, they
have experienced nothing like this.
Scripture has never yielded clear, univocal
messages or lucid incontrovertible doctrines.
On the contrary, before the modern era,
scripture was regarded as an “indication”
that could only point to the ineffable. From
the rishis [Hindu sages or saints], through
the brahmodya ritual, to the Upanishadic
sages, the Indian expositors of scripture
knew they were trying to express something
that lay beyond the capacity of language
and could say only, “Neti ... neti [not this,
not that]”. It was possible to grasp these
truths only by the careful cultivation of a
different mode of consciousness in physi-
cal exercises, rituals and complex mental
disciplines.
Even the Hebrew scriptures, which per-
sonified the divine, presented Yahweh [a
form of the Hebrew name of God] as opaque,
puzzling and inconsistent. It is significant
that the image of God that became embed-
ded in Jewish consciousness was Ezekiel’s
baffling vision of the divine kavod [glory]
that defied categorisation. It was this that
inspired Jewish philosophers and mystics
to insist that God’s essential being was not
even mentioned in the Bible or the Talmud
[the central text of Rabbinic Judaism].
In Christianity, the Cappadocians, Denys
and Thomas Aquinas all insisted scripture
could tell us nothing about what God really
was. In the Quran, Allah is given 99 names
that Muslims recite as a mantra, but these
are contradictory, cancel one another out,
and can only therefore point to a reality that
lies beyond the reach of speech.
Consequently, scripture has no clear mes-
sage and has nothing in common with the
clear and distinct ideas that characterise sola
ratio. Sometimes it even forces us to experi-
ence the shock of total unknowing. This was
clear in the Mahābhārata, which induces a
spiritual and conceptual vertigo, but which
is, significantly, one of India’s most popu-
lar scriptures. In their scriptures, Daoists
inveighed against dogmatism and the lust
for certainty that makes people fall in love
with their own opinions, because “the dao
that can be known is not the eternal Dao”.
The Analects [an ancient Chinese book
composed of a collection of sayings and
ideas attributed to Confucius and his con-
temporaries] left the Chinese with a deep
suspicion of lucid dogmas and rigid formu-
lations. It is impossible to find a set of tidy
doctrines in the Hebrew Bible; and in the
New Testament, there is not one gospel but
four, each presenting a different picture of
Jesus. The Quran, too, produces no clear
teaching on such topics as the conduct of
war, and jurists had to rely on their own
“independent reasoning” when they devel-
oped Islamic jurisprudence. The Protestant
reformers’ discovery that they could not
agree about what scripture said on such
basic issues as the Eucharist split the move-
ment into divisive sects. Yet that has not
deterred later monotheists from making
dogmatic and often aggressive statements
about what scripture really means.
Scriptures could eschew such dogmatism
because, until relatively recently, they were
never regarded as the Last Word; they were
always a work in progress. From as early as
the Rigveda [an ancient Indian collection
of Vedic Sanskrit hymns and commentaries
on liturgy, ritual and mystical exegesis], later
texts were grafted onto older scriptures that
had a very different vision because they were
expressing new concerns. Scripture always
drew on the past to give meaning to the
present. Its message was never cast in stone.
In China, Confucians read their own ideas
into Confucius’ words; he was the soil in
which they planted their own views and
reflections. In India, the Upanishadic sages
radically reinterpreted the mystical experi-
ence of the ancient rishis, and new Vedantic
writings continue this process today. During
their exile in Babylonia, an editor or group
of editors recast the ancient traditions of
Israel and Judah in a way that spoke directly
to their condition and left its imprint on
nearly every book of the Hebrew Bible.
Later, after the destruction of the temple,
the rabbis developed the art of midrash
[ancient commentary] that marched pur-
posefully away from the Written Torah.
They joined disparate quotations to form a
horoz that gave the original texts a different
meaning, and even changed the words of
scripture to give them a more compassion-
ate significance. The New Testament authors
ransacked the Written Torah to create their
own pesher exegesis, reinterpreting ancient
laws and prophecies to make them predict
the life, death and resurrection of Jesus.
While some Muslim jurists, such as Ibn
Taymiyyah, tried to interpret the Quran liter-
ally, Shiis very early read their own esoteric
beliefs into certain verses, and influential
mystics, such as the formidable scholar Ibn
al-Arabi, insisted that every time a Muslim
recited a verse from the Quran, it should
mean something different to him.
Unlike science, scripture always had a
moral dimension and was essentially a sum-
mons to compassionate, altruistic action.
Its purpose was
not to confirm the
reader or listener
in their firmly
held opinions, but
to transform them
utterly. l
THE LOST ART
OF SCRIPTURE:
RESCUING THE
SACRED TEXTS,
by Karen Armstrong
(Bodley Head, $40)
From the very beginning,
the Prophet drew on
the Eastern tradition
of sacred sound, and
the Quran records the
extraordinary effect it
had on its first audiences.