The Soul Truth

Another fundamental tenet of the Pythagoreans (they had quite a few, as you'd expect) was that of metempsychosis, probably a result of Pythagoras' own beliefs acquired during his youthful travels in Egypt and India.

This doctrine held that upon the death of any living creature, its soul would be (in some appropriate way) reanimated in some other living being, nascent but not necessarily human, and so ad infinitum, being thereby transitively immortal (assuming, of course, that there would always be a new host available, rather like a virus).

In English usage, I'd say that 'transmigration' implies full-on metempsychosis, whereas 'reincarnation' has an implication of just involving humans – especially in contexts denying that animals possess souls. But I may be inconsistent in what follows.

Of course, like the stock-market, the soul could move up or down the Ladder of Being at each new rung, and for that reason the Pythagoreans were strictly vegetarian, lest they inadvertently consumed a recently transmigrated colleague – though indeed he might have moved on to become a Jerusalem artichoke.

From the evolutionary point of view, upwards, that is, one is reminded of the wonderful poem by Langdon Smith, of twin souls who move upwards together through the geological ages. And individually downwards, perhaps, of Mehitabel (an alley-cat), a reincarnation of Queen Cleopatra, and her chronicler Archy (a cockroach), a reincarnation of a vers libre poet, as immortally narrated by Don Marquis ¹.

But what, we may justifiably enquire, was this 'soul', and in what respect could it be transferred? If emanating from a conscious creature such as ourselves, it could in principle comprise all the qualities itemised in the leading paragraph of the Wikipedia article quoted below, but not (pace Peter Medawar) from a moribund radish, for example.

At the very least, the sense of 'me-ness', as discussed above, is vital if the concept is to have any relevance whatsoever. And one might also think that memory of our past life should be part of the deal, if the concept is to be personally meaningful. 'Déjà vu' experiences are often cited as examples of this, but are nowadays prosaically dismissed as asynchronicities of our left and right brains.

But on the other hand, our waking recollection of night-time dreams as adults are only fleeting, try as we might to recall them for more than a few seconds. However, as Wordsworth so vividly put it, perhaps we as children come 'trailing clouds of glory', recalling experiences from some earlier phase of existence. I can certainly remember a seeming few ...

John Masefield, in my view the most pulse-quickeningly emotive poet of the twentieth century (just try Spanish Waters) put the matter best.

The theological importance of the human soul is tied-in with the (generally-speaking) Abrahamic tradition of its immortality, our personal survival after death, and the anticipation of renewing contact with those that have predeceased us. Wishful thinking? Of course, but the universe is what it is and such things may come to pass, if the New Testament can trusted. On the whole, I do very much hope it can be.

I also feel fidgety about the non-human levels of creation – dogs and cats in particular – as Mark Twain said, he wouldn't want a heaven that didn't allow dogs. Although there would be scant chance of rejoining all our various beloved family companions, such as Sally our Parson Russell terrier in particular, or Ebony our wonderful black cat, I'd like to think that somebody else would benefit equally.

Oh, I almost forgot! Please click here to see an account of one of the most universally admired and beloved Americans of all time, and his very affirmative view on his metempsychotic possibilies!

Whether or not transmigration is anything more than a metaphysical conceit, it ultimately has to terminate at the 'end of all things', when the universal clockwork finally stops. And at this point, even if not earlier, the concept of heaven (whatever that may be) has to be faced.

Conventional Christianity doesn't accept the idea of reincarnation, let alone metempsychosis, but is pretty evasive as to whether the soul goes to heaven at the time of death, or has to hang around until the Day of Judgment at which time it has a reasonable chance of promotion. At the Crucifixion, Christ is said to have promised the repentant thief, "Verily I say unto thee, today shalt thou be with me in paradise", which seems to suggest the fast-track possibility. No mention is made of the prospect faced by the unrepentant thief, however; does this imply that his soul is immediately destined for Somewhere Else?

Interestingly, some theologists have drawn a distinction between paradise and heaven, whereby the souls of the just are accommodated in paradise until the Dies Irae (at which time they would presumably be reassessed and ushered upwards). But where would the souls of the unjust be secured meanwhile? And who would be responsible for this pre-assessment process?

I don't think the Old Testament has much to say about heaven and hell, but the New Testament certainly does, not so much in the Four Gospels as in the subsequent Books, which are strongly influenced by ideas originating from Greek mythology and philosophy.

Modern Anglicanism and Protestantism seem largely to have dropped the ideas of heaven and hell, leaving the soul with nowhere to go. Rather like modern Christianity itself, in fact, apart from the Evangelicals who make up in fervour what they lack in subtlety.

There is an old story that puritanical Scottish preachers used to tell their congregations about sinners cast into the fires of hell.

In reading all these very dramatic accounts and vivid illustrations of the fate in store for those guilty of mortal sin(s), we must remember that it's supposedly the sinners' souls that are subjected to the torments rather than the sinners themselves, and so the tortures are symbolic rather than real.

The most realistic and compassionate alternative to eternal torment would be for the souls of mortal sinners to suffer a never-ending Sunday afternoon with nothing to do.