How Can We Ever Know, that We Know?

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There is an inelegant saying that, “We don’t know what we don’t know.”  In other words, we may think we know A, because we know B and C, which together, prove A.  But what if there is a D?  And what if D changes everything we thought we knew?  Not only do we not know D, we don’t even know that we don’t know D.

Okay, I’m confused, but let’s press on with more scientific statements of the matter from people smarter than me (of whom there are a disturbingly large number).

The famous scientist, JBS Haldane (1892 – 1964), once said that the universe might not only be stranger than we imagine it to be, it might be even stranger than we are able to imagine.  Others have said that not only might we be unable to answer the important questions, we might not even be able to ask them.

Haldane also said, “If materialism is true, it seems to me that we cannot know that it is true. If my opinions are the result of the chemical processes going on in my brain, they are determined by the laws of chemistry, not those of logic.”

Nobel Prize winning physicist Dr. Leon Lederman wondered aloud whether the human brain has evolved to the point where it can understand the universe.  We might wonder, what if it is fundamentally impossible for the human brain ever to reach that point?

One could list a very great number of reasons why we can never firmly trust in our knowledge.  No matter how strongly we believe something to be true, no matter how powerful is the evidence for it, in the end, there always remains the possibility that we are wrong.

But what is our alternative?  Are we simply to become so thoroughly skeptical that we never believe anything?  That could be fatal, if at the edge of a fifty-foot-tall cliff, we disbelieve in gravity.  (At least I believe it could be fatal.)

Some have pointed out that there is one thing of which we can be absolutely sure.  We know that we exist.  René Descartes encapsulated this knowledge in the Latin phrase, “Cogito ergo sum,” which means, “I think, therefore I am.”  [Whenever I wish to impress people, I always include a Latin phrase.]   Although there have been a few drug-addled (I suspect) pseudo-philosophers who claim that we are merely illusions having illusions, and that therefore we do not exist, there is no useful way that one can claim that something that does not exist can have an illusion, even if the illusion being had, does not exist.  Notice that I said, no “useful” way.  However, if you can think of a practical use that a nonexistent person could make of knowing that he does not exist—never mind, I’m giving myself a headache.

The one thing of which we can be absolutely sure is that we exist as conscious, living beings.  (Maybe that’s three things, but who’s counting?)

This has led some to conclude that consciousness is the ground of all being.  Everything that we consciously know requires consciousness.  (Duh.)  Even if we think we know something, but are wrong, at least we know that we consciously think we know something.  So consciousness must exist.  Cogito.

Accepting that as an axiom, an unprovable statement that requires no proof, we can then move on to the more peripheral question, how do we know anything else?

We receive perceptions through our senses (sight, sound etc).  But it is well known (uh-oh) that sometimes our senses can mislead us.  Optical illusions and hallucinations can deceive us into believing something that is not true.  More esoterically, reason itself can fail us, if our mental faculties are insufficient to produce a valid conclusion from premises.

If we cannot break out of our solipsist confines of conscious thought, and move into a surrounding reality, then catastrophe awaits us—assuming of course, that there is a larger reality.

How do we do that in a way that we can know, undeniably, that not only do we exist, not only that the surrounding reality exists, but also, know definitive things about that larger reality?

Physical science has taken us far along that road, but at the end of that road, we find no absolute certainty.  Quite the opposite, we find mysteries not only unsolved, but as Haldane points out, quite possibly beyond human ability to ever solve.  Are we doomed to eternal doubt?

It is at this point that we are forced to consider the un-considerable.  If science, reason, philosophy and metaphysics do not get us there, then is there any hope?

There is, but it is the one hope that many refuse to consider:  faith.  The very word conjures up images of Bible-banging preachers threatening fire and brimstone, or Mullahs waging sectarian war, or Shamans rattling copper cymbals to chase away evil spirits real or imagined.

Faith?  Why, is that not a denial of commonsense?  Is it not ignorance of facts?  Does it not require us to put money in the church coffers lest a wrathful bearded man in the sky casts us into everlasting torment?

Maybe so.  What do I know?

As in all progressions from the unknown toward the known, one must begin on solid ground.  There must be a First Cause (to borrow the term from St Augustine) that leads inexorably to the final conclusion.  But what is that First Cause?  Where is that solid ground?

To find it, we must (as they say) think outside the box.  We must take a leap of faith, not blindly, not unreasonably, but verifiably.  Only then can we achieve that certainty for which the human spirit longs.

As Bishop Fulton J Sheen (1895 – 1979) wrote so eloquently:

 

The great arcana of Divine Mysteries cannot be known by reason, but only by Revelation.  Reason can however, once in possession of these truths, offer persuasions to show that they are not only not contrary to reason, or destructive of nature, but eminently suited to a scientific temper of mind and the perfection of all that is best in human nature. [1]

 

Over the years I have listened to many people recount the moment in which they consciously accepted Jesus as their personal Savior.  Each account is unique, and yet they all share that same, indescribable flavor that other people of faith immediately recognize as authentic.

That singular experience seems always to be a turning point in one’s life, and is followed by a lifetime of additional events which reinforce that faith, and defend it against the many challenges which are sure to follow.

This should not be taken as an acid test, but as evidence that each person has the ability to verify for himself whether faith is not contrary to reason, but is also conducive to all that is best in human nature.

Enough.  However much I might try to define faith without proselytizing, the effort must fail, and for the very reason I pointed out.  Faith cannot be imparted except by the essence of all being, the Holy Spirit Himself.

Of that much, I am absolutely certain.

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[1] The Life of all Living; Garden City Books reprint edition 1951; copyright 1929 by The Century Company, printed in the United States at The Country Life Press, Garden City, N.Y.