The Forman/Katz Debate

As I mentioned in a previous post, my interest in—and practice of—prayer has intensified alongside parenthood and sleeplessness. This reorientation reflects something deeply incarnational: prayer unfolding as a way to see, as a way of being, and the cooing in the bassinet beside my bed becoming integral to that prayerful vision, as much as it is a call to prayer itself.

Wanting to keep exploring this prayerful tradition, I thought it would be helpful to step back and examine how mystical experiences are understood philosophically and academically. What follows are two short essays written for my mysticism class last semester, examining how experience, language, and practice shape what we mean by mysticism. These essays revolve around the work of philosopher and scholar Steven T. Katz and the comparative religious professor (and mystic) Dr. Robert K.C. Forman.

The source for Katz is from his Mysticism and Philosophical Analysis with the source for Forman’s perspective comes from his own response to Katz: The Construction of Mystical Experience, an article with arguments further developed in his book: The Problem of Pure Consciousness: Mysticism and Philosophy.

The prompts for these essays are as follows: Summarize the reasons why Steven Katz does not believe that mystical experience is the same across time and culture… Be sure to clearly explain at least 3 distinct reasons that Katz offers for his conclusion.

And for Forman: Briefly explain at least 2 arguments that Forman offers regarding Katz’s claim that mystical experience is always determined by language and culture… Then, offer your own considered opinion as to which position (Katz’s or Forman’s) is the more convincing one.

Author’s Note: I neither affirm nor deny the perspectives of either scholar’s perspective or truth-claims. This is not an essay meant to emphasize one over the other. While I make a connection between Forman’s model and Orthodoxy’s hesychasm at the end of the second section, the similarities are purely phenomenological, not ontological.

Katz and Contextualism

Steven T. Katz rejects the claim that mystical experiences are universal or identical across cultures. While affirming that these experiences are real and possess a noetic quality, Katz argues that they cannot ground a justified true belief about ultimate Reality. His critique of the perennial model is supported by three main claims. First, mystical experiences do not arise in a vacuum but are pre-experientially conditioned by the aspirant’s religious commitments and cultural-social frameworks. Second, consequently, attempting to escape contextualism by claiming that mystical language is ineffable and meaningless begets logical and semantic incoherence. Third, the mystical life is communal and tradition-specific: transmission is between a teacher and disciple, all of which differ across religious systems. These arguments support Katz’s conclusion that mystical experiences are not contextually undetermined, but, in fact, are ‘over-determined’ by the socio-religious structures that shape them.

Katz’s first argument concerns the conditions of experience. For him, mystical experiences are not unmitigated, unmediated encounters with ultimate Reality, but are shaped by the conceptual and symbolic world that, in turn, shapes the mystic. Katz’s portrayal of the Jewish mystic—brought up within the socio-religious paradigm of Judaism—whose experience of the union of God (devekut) is influenced and informed by their ontological understanding of Deity, who is both immanent, transcendent, and Creator, is contrasted with the nirvana of the Buddhist mystic.

The latter is grounded in non-theism, impermanence, and the unique doctrine of anatman. For both, their lifelong cultural formation preconditions them to what their experience will be; the mystic does not interpret their experience after but anticipates it within their respective framework, one that is learned and integrated through ritual, symbols, and the communal life.

For Katz, by comparing the two, not only do their distinctions emerge, but one sees the extreme lengths common core thinkers and researchers have to go to in order to suggest that their differences are merely superficial. As Katz himself declares, “To think that [the Buddhist mystic’s] pre-conditioned consciousness of how things are and how to find release from suffering in nirvana is extraneous to the actual Buddhist mystic experience is bizarre.”

Building on these distinctions, Katz offers that, no matter what nirvana means and whatever the Jewish concept of devekut means, insofar as words possess real value and, thus, distinction, then there is no way one can equate the two experiences.

Katz’s second argument dismantles perennialism’s faulty premise: that mystical language is both ineffable and merely symbolic of a single transcendent experience. He argues this premise fails because, “if the mystic does not mean what he says and his words have no literal meaning whatsoever, then only is it impossible to establish my pluralistic view, but it is also logically impossible to establish any view whatsoever.” Katz refutes the perennial position by its own logic: if their position is true, and the mystics’ utterances are meaningless, then even the claim that all mystics are saying the same thing is meaningless. It becomes a self-refuting position; we cannot use words to state that words are meaningless.

For Katz, mystical language must therefore be taken seriously. Using the example of the Christian Augustine, Katz affirms his position that researchers must treat mystical writings, lexicon, and experiences as meaningful, because that reflects legitimate conceptual and linguistic differences in the experience itself.

This grounds Katz contextualism/pluralism in linguistic realism: words and symbols are not arbitrary but have genuine, concrete meaning. They reveal distinct religious metaphysics: symbols and letters are real and possess ontological weight. Reducing them to culturally adorned articulations of a singular experience is to ignore their underlying metaphysical significance.

Finally, Katz’s third argument roots mysticism within its respective traditions, preserving it through transmission. He underscores his argument, employing Richard Robinson’s note: “Every form of Buddhism has held that guides are necessary;” Katz emphasizes that the mystical life is communal, not private, and is structured by the teacher-student relationship. He reports, “The Buddhist guru does not teach what the Hindu guru teaches… The Murshid does not teach what the Kabbalah teaches, nor again does Teresa of Avila teach St John of the Cross the same ‘way’ as Don Juan or the Taoist Master.”

The master is guiding their student to different ends: satori, fana, devekut, all entrenched in their own theological assumptions with formalized, and unique, ritual prescriptions, asceticism, and normative claims. Teachers are not interchangeable—as we see with the Zen master considered paradigmatic exemplars for their students—the guides on the mystical path embody distinct metaphysical commitments, presuppositions, and teleological aims. Mysticism, despite “the ecumenical overtones associated with [it] primarily coming from non-mystics of recent vintage for their own purposes,” is not a universal language or practice but an umbrella term encompassing a diverse collection of tradition-specific observances and goals.

Steven T. Katz’s epistemological analysis dismantles the perennial claim that mystical experiences transcend culture and history. Mystical experience does not emerge out of context but is rather shaped and saturated by context: “over-determined” by social, linguistic, and dogmatic conditions that exist pre-experientially. Cultural-social elements, language, and the communal life form, shape, and anticipate mystical experiences; they are the means through which these experiences are made intelligible, preserved, and sought.

Katz’s contextualism—while unable to overcome the problem of relativism—retains the meaningful nature and noetic character of mystical experiences and their traditions. In his respectful treatment of mystical experience, Katz not only helps to highlight their differences but also allows for the possibility of an objective, scholarly discourse about them.

Forman’s Response to Katz

Robert K.C. Forman response to Steven Katz’ contextualism in The Construction of Mystical Experience argues that mystical experience is not wholly mediated by linguistic, cultural, or doctrinal frameworks. While Katz claims that all experience is shaped, pre-experientially, by one’s personal constructs, Forman contrarily proposes that the pure consciousness event is a phenomenological reality that is found across religious traditions. The event, according to Forman, is sine qua non: it is a fundamental element which occurs in mystical experiences, independent of prior cultural or linguistic conditioning.

Forman cites Bernhardt and Perovich, who argue that the pure consciousness event does not display sufficient phenomenological complexity to support Katz’s contextualism. The simplicity of the experience, coupled by a lack of images, thoughts, and distinctions, weakens the idea that mystical experiences could be constructed from conceptual systems. Substantiating this, Forman cites mystics across traditions that describe a process of cutting off mental images and concepts or forgetting.

These mystics emphasize this as an integral aspect of their aim and the experience. “Forgetting” emerges through an intentional turning away from conceptual thought in order to become receptive to the pure consciousness event (of course, this is not the cross-cultural moniker of the experience). Drawing on Gill and Brenman’s term: Forman frames this deautomatization as deliberate practice of the mystic to suspend their habitual mental patterns and ordinary awareness.

Through sustained prayer or meditation, the mystic becomes aware of these automatic cognitive processes and seeks to dissolve them. In so doing, the aspirant may open themselves to a state akin to a ganzfeld affect: “a completely patternless visual field,” a perceptual blackout which is produced by restricting awareness. As Ganzfeld observed, this is not merely an experience of seeing nothing, but an awareness bereft of content. Forman, echoing William James’ characterizing mystical passivity, maintains the similar idea that the pure consciousness event is a passive operation; it cannot be intentionally willed, but arises through receptivity once one dissolves inner concepts, images, and ceases from automatic stimuli response.

Pointing to Meister Eckhart’s teaching, Forman emphasizes the mystic’s exhortation to abandon even one’s concept of God to experience unmitigated divinity directly. Thus, the very belief system of the mystic must be forgotten to become open to the event. If this is the case, and forgetting is essential to mystical receptivity, then concepts and cognitive schemas that shape our worldview may obstruct the mystical event instead of playing a constructive role in its creation.

Beyond the substantive lack of complexity of the pure consciousness event, Forman’s second major critique of Katz’ contextualism focuses on his methodology. Forman argues that Katz relies too heavily on mystical texts as evidence for his claims. Yet, the texts are being interpreted ex post facto which, for Forman, suggests a subtle denial of the raw phenomenological report of the mystic, betraying, perhaps, Katz’ naturalistic biases, treating the mystic’s words as the experience itself rather than a reflection and articulation.

Following this, Forman points out that while expectations may precede one’s experiences, expectations does not mean causation: one’s expectations does not ipso facto produce an event. Therefore, the mystical texts are records, written after the event, articulating said experience, naturally filtered through the symbolic world and linguistic make-up of one’s culture. However, the event itself transcends linguistic definition because it lacks the necessary content which would allow formal construction.

To support his theory, Forman points to historical examples contravening Katz’ contextualism. St. Paul’s conversion on the road to Damascus, Richard Maurice Bucke’s Cosmic Consciousness, and Bernadette Roberts’ unconditioned experience all suggest that the pure consciousness event can, and does, occur independent of doctrinal or cultural preparation. These examples—which are not exhaustive—empirically support the phenomenological claim that the pure consciousness event is not the product of contextual mediation.

Ultimately, Forman’s argument rests not only on the reports of mystics, but on the deliberate aim of mystical practices themselves: to forget, dissolve, and deautomatize conceptual constructs in order to become receptive to an awareness beyond them. If mystical techniques are designed precisely to undo the conceptual and linguistic patterns that Katz insists upon, then contextualism collapses under its own incoherence.

For Forman, the pure consciousness event and forgetting model underscores a perennial philosophy, “that mysticism is alike from one culture to another;” it also suggests a pragmatic understanding of mystical experiences, demonstrating how—across traditions—there is a shared technical method that aims at transcending not merely ordinary awareness, but cultural and linguistic constructs, highlighting the universal dimension of unmediated mystical experience.

In presenting my considered opinion, I’ll state that Forman’s position is more compelling to me than Katz’s contextualism. Admittedly, this is because my perspective is shaped by Orthodox Christianity, which I’ll return to. Contextualism is valuable because it takes serious cultural and linguistic distinctions. This is a crucial emphasis because without this emphasis, metaphysics are lost or ignored, and they are important to religious and anthropological studies. However, contextualism also risks collapsing into cultural and linguistic relativism due to Katz’ insistence that mystical experiences are overdetermined by context; not only does this heighten relativism, but it also leaves no space for a phenomenological reality behind a mystic’s experience.

We might ask Katz: What are the mystics reporting if not merely their own conditioning mirrored back to them? Did the mystic encounter something real or pre-experientially created?

Katz’ methodology weighs heavily on linguistic and cultural mediation, which subtly assumes consciousness itself is shaped by the same mediators. If contextualism is the case, then how do we contend with the irreducibility of consciousness and where does that fit into the mystical life?

Forman’s counter-position resonates with the Orthodox practice of hesychasm, which shares his model of “forgetting.” In the Philokalic tradition, theology is not speculative talk about God but participation in divine life through silence, stillness, and self-renunciation. The Desert and Church Fathers repeatedly warn against imaginal prayer and urge the cutting off of mental images and concepts, reflective of the deautomatization process. The apophatic path of the Eastern Church aims not at constructing lofty, abstract concepts but at unlearning them, opening the heart-mind to an awareness beyond image or word. Thus, for me, Forman’s emphasis on the pure consciousness event feels grounded in this tradition’s phenomenological and theological understanding.¹

However, his position is not without its own problems. The “pure consciousness event” is vague and defined mainly by what it lacks.

If the event transcends linguistic capture, then what—if anything—can be said about the event itself? Can we rely on the pure consciousness event as a workable definition for these transcendent experiences? Can we rely on its universality to appropriately reflect the experience that is shared across traditions? Are we to assume that the lack of diversity in these events correlates to an absence of uniqueness, too?

In other words, can the pure consciousness event actually ground meaningful cross-cultural comparison?

Where Katz risks relativism, Forman risks reductionism, by filtering the historical diversity and rich tapestry of mystical experiences into a singular phenomenological event there is a potential loss of ontological reality. Beyond phenomenology, is there truth in this event?

Ultimately, Forman’s model takes the reality of mystical experiences more seriously than Katz and coheres more closely with this author’s lived experience of practices and traditions like Orthodoxy’s hesychia. Therefore, it is the more convincing and compelling position of the two.

Ο ΧΡΙΣΤΟΣ ΕΝ ΤΩ ΜΕΣΩ ΗΜΩΝ! ΚΑΙ ΗΝ ΚΑΙ ΕΣΤΙ ΚΑΙ ΕΣΤΑΙ

1. However, Forman’s definition of the “pure consciousness event” as a wakeful, yet contentless state in which, phenomenologically, there is a cessation of awareness of the external world; the experience is of the self itself as awareness (Forman, The Problem of Pure Consciousness 8). In an article, Forman elaborates, stating the cessation of external stimuli means that there are “no thoughts, emotions, sensations, or awareness of any external phenomenon. There is an utter blank. There is not even the thought that ‘I am experiencing X’“ (Forman, Pure Consciousness Events and Mysticism).
   
   These definitions are pertinent to the distinctions between the pure consciousness event and Orthodoxy’s hesychasm because the former highlights an internal turn, an emptying of conceptual images which, according to Forman, allows for the experience of the self itself without the constraints of conditioned self-image and content. Not only does this suggest it can be attained in isolation by an individual practitioner, it also points to awareness without an intentional object, therefore this is not communion. The latter hesychastic tradition, on the other hand, functions as an integral practice within the communal ontology of Orthodox theology. Thus, hesychasm is done within the sacramental life and community of the Church as well is aimed, not toward forgetting externalities to realize the self, but toward deepening one’s relationship with God, highlighted by the cultivation of the Prayer throughout the practice.
   
   Finally, it should be noted that hesychasm does not bypass the self, but through the purification of the nous (which is done by God’s grace through the above sacramental life and prayer, over time and with much labor) reorients the self and cleanses the eyes of the heart so they can behold and stand before God. So, while the pure consciousness event reveals the self to itself, that is, when awareness remains when all content to be aware of dissolves, hesychasm seeks stillness in preparation, expanding the capacity of the heart, so the self may receive God. ↩︎