A Secret History of Christianity: Jesus, the Last Inkling, and the Evolution Of Consciousness by Mark Vernon

I came to this book through the back door; that is, it was not the “Secret History of Christianity” that grabbed me (not a unique title), but the subtitle “the Last Inkling and the Evolution of Consciousness.” This phrase no doubt referred to Owen Barfield and his line of thought about the evolution of consciousness. Barfield has been on my radar for years as I’ve sought to become more familiar with his deep insights. While Barfield is a lucid writer, his thought dives deep and sometimes can leave the reader adrift. And unlike his more famous Inkling companions C.S. Lewis and J.R.R. Tolkien, Barfield never reached great numbers with his works (which only included a relatively small amount of fiction and poetry). So, I thought, perhaps this work would reveal more about Barfield’s project to me.

Alas, it did not. After an initial cursory introduction to Barfield’s key notion of “original participation” followed by “withdrawal participation” and “reciprocal participation,” and a nod to French anthropologist Lucien Levy-Bruehl about his idea of “participation mystique,” Vernon plunges directly  into a history of the Hebrew Bible through the lens of the concept of “participation.” From that starting point, he moves on into a review of ancient Greek culture through the same lens. In both traditions, the earlier manifestations of those cultures were marked by “original participation” with the world around them. As Vernon describes it, the phenomena refer “to the felt experience of participating in life. Original participation dominates when there is little distinction between what’s felt to be inside someone and what’s outside because the boundaries of individual self - consciousness, which today we take for granted, are not in place.” (p. 3; loc. 264.) Or as Barfield describes it: “Early man did not observe nature in our detached way . . . . He participated mentally and physically in her inner and outer processes.” (p. 3; loc. 269.) Vernon proceeds to take the reader through a brief history of the Hebrew Bible to illustrate this phenomenon and the eventual shift away from a consciousness marked by original participation to one of “withdrawal participation,” which is marked by a shift away from immersion in the surrounding world into a greater sense of individuality. As Vernon describes it, “An awareness of separation, even isolation, is felt. A person will begin to sense that they have an inner life that is, relatively speaking, their own. (p. 3; loc. 273.)

After completing his brief but illuminating history of the Hebrew Bible, Vernon moves across the street, as it were, and does the same with ancient Greek culture, displaying the same dynamic at work. Like the Hebrew prophets, the emerging Greek philosophers (culminating in Socrates) promote a greater sense of individuality and individual agency. The world of Achilles in the Iliad is significantly different from that of Socrates. As Vernon points out, another way to look at this shift is to discern a growing sense of individuality and the use of introspection by individuals.

With the advent of the Hellenistic Age in the wake of Alexander the Great and his successors, these two lines of thought—Hebrew and Greek—begin to encounter one another and interact. Out of this mixture arises the life of Jesus and the coming of Christianity. It’s at this point that I must quibble about the first part of the title of this book, “the Secret History of Christianity.” What Vernon writes about in this section and the sources he draws upon is not Dan Brown material. Rather, the sources that Vernon draws upon are neither secret nor very unorthodox. (Although he does cite the Gospel of Thomas, which is outside of the sanctioned Scriptures, that’s about as far out of the mainstream that he goes.) Vernon’s portrait of Jesus draws upon the Four Evangelists and Paul to demonstrate that Jesus was taking his followers deeper into the interior life. Vernon demonstrates his argument with quotations from the Gospels and Paul that should prove familiar to any reader. He emphasizes the message of interiority preached by Jesus and the desire of Jesus to prompt a metanoia—a change of mind (or heart-mind, as I’m persuaded may prove a more adept translation). Vernon argues that Jesus didn’t intend to set down new sets of rules to follow, but instead, he intended to change our awareness; to find the root of our conduct on the inside. (I can’t help but recall the scene in Monty Python’s Life of Brian where the supposed messiah (Brian) loses a sandal while attempting to flee the crowd and the crowd takes this as a directive to shed their sandals--or something. Ah, literalism.) In short, Vernon provides a convincing and attractive portrait of Jesus that comports with Barfield’s theory of “participation” and that comports with sound Biblical scholarship. Sorry, no lost gospels or secret societies here.

Vernon continues his tour of Christian culture and belief through the early Church on to Augustine, whose interiority further expands this Christian insight and who develops the idea of the will to better understand an individual’s volition. Vernon follows this path continuing up through the Renaissance, which—contra Burkhardt—Vernon argues does not provide a definitive break with medieval culture and belief. But the Reformation, which follows upon the Renaissance and does alter the course of the evolution of consciousness. The Reformation, in the words and works of Luther and Calvin and their followers, placed a significantly increased emphasis on the individual’s conscience. The Reformation, along with the Scientific Revolution, altered the ways that individuals saw themselves and their world. The advent of the printing press, like the advent of literacy and private reading in earlier times, greatly facilitated (or perhaps more it’s more accurate to say, helped cause) this change in consciousness. Humanity became more aware of how to manipulate the world around it and gained an increased sense of individual agency. But these gains came at the cost of losing much (and in some cases all) of the sense of belonging to the cosmos that had survived through the Renaissance. Christianity, as a result, tended more toward literalism and faith as belief rather than trust. This trend has continued up through the present, but Vernon identifies signs that humanity may be ready to move into a mode of “reciprocal participation.”

Vernon identifies “imagination” as the key to reaching a state of reciprocal participation. In this argument, Vernon echoes many of the themes that Gary Lachman identified in his 2017 publication, Lost Knowledge of the Imagination. As both authors note, imagination is not another word for fantasy; both authors draw upon Samuel Taylor Coleridge for guidance in describing the role and function of imagination and its distinction from what Coleridge labeled as “fantasy.” Also, Vernon discusses the body of poetic and visual works of William Blake as a master of informed imagination.

Thus, while I didn’t experience an in-depth dive into Barfield’s thought (although Barfield’s work does resurface prominently toward the end of the book), I did receive a persuasive application of how Barfield’s perspective can apply to the history of Western Christianity. An for those who want a helpful introduction to Barfield’s project, one can turn to Gary Lachman, who refers to Barfield frequently, and at depth in his works ASecret History of Consciousness and Caretakers of the Cosmos. And as to having a not-so-secret history of Christianity added to the piles of books written about the history of Christianity, Vernon’s effort is worthwhile. The fact the sources that Vernon draws upon are not occult doesn’t mean that the project isn’t valuable; it is. While not secret, his understanding of Christianity is not widespread so far as I can discern. The description that he provides is one that could prove useful as we go forward to meet the challenges ahead. He hopes to see Christianity (along with other wisdom traditions) bridge the gap between our alienation from the world around us (and ourselves) and the gifts that individuality and science have brought to us. This is a noble and vital enterprise, and one that deserves our thanks—and our reading time.