What is the character and general structure of the universe in
which we live? Is there a permanent
element in the constitution of this universe? How are we related
to it? What place do we occupy in it,
and what is the kind of conduct that befits the place we occ
upy? These questions are common to
religion, philosophy, and higher poetry. But the kind of knowledge
that poetic inspiration brings is
essentially individual in its character; it is figurative,
vague, and indefinite. Religion, in its more
advanced forms, rises higher than poetry. It moves from individua
l to society. In its attitude towards the
Ultimate Reality it is opposed to the limitations of man;
it enlarges his claims and holds out the
prospect of nothing less than a direct vision of Reality. Is
it then possible to apply the purely rational
method of philosophy to religion? The spirit of philosophy is one
of free inquiry. It suspects all
authority. Its function is to trace the uncritical assumptions
of human thought to their hiding places, and
in this pursuit it may finally end in denial or a frank admi
ssion of the incapacity of pure reason to reach
the Ultimate Reality. The essence of religion, on the other
hand, is faith; and faith, like the bird, sees its
‘trackless way’ unattended by intellect which, in the words o
f the great mystic poet of Islam, ‘only
waylays the living heart of man and robs it of the invisible
wealth of life that lies within’.
1
Yet it cannot
be denied that faith is more than mere feeling. It has s
omething like a cognitive content, and the
existence of rival parties— scholastics and mystics— in
the history of religion shows that idea is a vital
element in religion. Apart from this, religion on its doct
rinal side, as defined by Professor Whitehead,
is ‘a system of general truths which have the effect of trans
forming character when they are sincerely
held and vividly apprehended’.
2
Now, since the transformation and guidance of man’s inner and outer
life is the essential aim of religion, it is obvious that
the general truths which it embodies must not
remain unsettled. No one would hazard action on the basis of a
doubtful principle of conduct. Indeed,
in view of its function, religion stands in greater need of a
rational foundation of its ultimate principles
than even the dogmas of science. Science may ignore a ratio
nal metaphysics; indeed, it has ignored it
so far. Religion can hardly afford to ignore the search for a
reconciliation of the oppositions of
experience and a justification of the environment in which hum
anity finds itself. That is why Professor
Whitehead has acutely remarked that ‘the ages of faith a
re the ages of rationalism’.
3
But to rationalize
faith is not to admit the superiority of philosophy over reli
gion. Philosophy, no doubt, has jurisdiction
to judge religion, but what is to be judged is of such a nature
that it will not submit to the jurisdiction of
philosophy except on its own terms. While sitting in judgement on
religion, philosophy cannot give
religion an inferior place among its data. Religion is not a
departmental affair; it is neither mere
thought, nor mere feeling, nor mere action; it is an expressi
on of the whole man. Thus, in the
evaluation of religion, philosophy must recognize the central pos
ition of religion and has no other
alternative but to admit it as something focal in the pro
cess of reflective synthesis. Nor is there any
reason to suppose that thought and intuition are essentially o
pposed to each other. They spring up from
the same root and complement each other. The one grasps Re
ality piecemeal, the other grasps it in its
wholeness. The one fixes its gaze on the eternal, the other
on the temporal aspect of Reality. The one is
present enjoyment of the whole of Reality; the other aims at
traversing the whole by slowly specifying
and closing up the various regions of the whole for exclusive obser
vation. Both are in need of each
other for mutual rejuvenation. Both seek visions of the same Re
ality which reveals itself to them in
accordance with their function in life. In fact, intuiti
on, as Bergson rightly says, is only a higher kind of
intellect.
4
The search for rational foundations in Islam may be regarded t
o have begun with the Prophet himself.
His constant prayer was: ‘God! grant me knowledge of the ultim
ate nature of things!’
5
The work of
later mystics and non-mystic rationalists forms an exceedingly
instructive chapter in the history of our
culture, inasmuch as it reveals a longing for a coherent system
of ideas, a spirit of whole-hearted
devotion to truth, as well as the limitations of the age, whi
ch rendered the various theological
movements in Islam less fruitful than they might have been i
n a different age. As we all know, Greek
philosophy has been a great cultural force in the history of Isl
am. Yet a careful study of the Qur’«n and
the various schools of scholastic theology that arose under the ins
piration of Greek thought disclose the
remarkable fact that while Greek philosophy very much broadened
the outlook of Muslim thinkers, it,
on the whole, obscured their vision of the Qur’«n. Socrates concentra
ted his attention on the human
world alone. To him the proper study of man was man and not
the world of plants, insects, and stars.
How unlike the spirit of the Qur’«n, which sees in the humble
bee a recipient of Divine inspiration
6
and
constantly calls upon the reader to observe the perpetual c
hange of the winds, the alternation of day and
night, the clouds,
7
the starry heavens,
8
and the planets swimming through infinite space!
9
As a true
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