In Part One, I set forth the background to Warfield’s stinging review of four books written by the then popular mystic Evelyn Underhill. Although Warfield’s “Review” was written in 1914, Underhill’s variety of mysticism (now called “spirituality”) is still very much alive today. As I noted in Part One, a subjective/mystical experience which she and others champion, “provides common ground for those seeking theological justification for religious `diversity and inclusion.’” It is often claimed that doctrine divides, but spirituality—such as a “conversion experience”—unites a broad segment of Americans, which includes many professing evangelicals. Those who are doctrinally ignorant, indifferent, or even hostile to a concrete set of beliefs, can find common ground through a vague and ill-defined “spirituality,” aligning with those with similar experiences. This revival of Underhill’s mysticism is what Michael Horton has identified as the “spiritual but not religious” phenomenon which is now widespread in America.
Warfield, whose job description at Princeton Theological Seminary (Professor of Polemic and Didactic Theology) requires him to pounce upon all perceived doctrinal error, acknowledges Underhill’s skill as a writer. She is good at what she does, which is why Warfield felt so compelled to devote significant attention to her work. He writes . . .
This volume is brilliantly written. All the resources of a trained literary art are expended upon it, and its pages are not only illuminated with numerous well-chosen extracts from the Mystical writers who are thus permitted to tell in their own quaint and often singularly impressive language exactly what they are, but are also gemmed with vivid phrases caught from the Mystics and used by Miss Underhill in her own composition with exquisite skill. Above all it is written with a verve and enthusiasm which impart to it an élan (as Miss Underhill would call it) that sweeps the reader well-nigh off his feet. (337)
Early on in his “Review,” Warfield points out that a definition of terms is very important—especially with an ill-defined subject (Mysticism) grounded in subjective religious experience. Here is where the trouble begins.
Formal definition of the term begins for us already in the Preface. “Broadly speaking,” we read there (p. x.), “I understand it to be the expression of the innate tendency of the human spirit towards complete harmony with the transcendental order; whatever be the theological formula under which that order is understood.” This is “broadly speaking” indeed. By the final clause, Mysticism is at once separated from all “positive religions” whatever; and (as we are immediately told) it is made matter of indifference to the experience of “mystic union” in which it “attains its end,” whether that union is conceived to be with “the God of Christianity, the World-Soul of Pantheism, the Absolute of Philosophy” (p. x.). “Attempts to limit mystical truth—the direct apprehension of the Divine Substance—to the formulae of any one religion,” we are accordingly told later (p. 115), “are as futile as the attempt to identify a precious metal with the die which converts it into current coin.”
Mysticism of the sort advocated by Ms. Underhill cannot be limited to any formulas of “positive religion” (presumably one with any sort of authoritative doctrine). The image given us by Isaiah (in 6:1-13) of one such moment of “direct apprehension of the Divine substance” is vastly different from the type of mystical union spelled out by Underhill. She might find “union and harmony” when encountering what she assumes is “the divine substance,” but Isaiah was immediately overcome by the awareness of his sinfulness. This is but one of the things missing from Underhill’s supposed encounter with the divine.
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