In the following, I shall attempt to briefly explain why I am applying for admittance to a doctoral program in philosophy.

It may, I freely acknowledge, seem a little odd that someone who has essentially been preparing to become a priest since 2015 would make this decision, at the very time when he is on the cusp of becoming qualified for serving in the church. My personality has, however, been characterized by a spirit of intense inquisitiveness for as long as I have been a conscious human being, a spirit causing me to constantly search out new frontiers, and to probe ever deeper into the mysteries surrounding human existence and the universe, and the past five or six years have been no exception to that rule. As a result, I have had a number of realizations over the course of those years which, when taken together, have persuaded me that I could and should pursue an academic career instead of an ecclesiastical one.

Many of these insights were already present when I began working on my master’s thesis, and the intensely interesting and highly gratifying experience that was the writing of that thesis, along with the praise elicited by the outcome, then convinced me, to put it a little hyperbolically, that “Plato is my destiny”.

For obvious reasons, I cannot here go into a great deal of detail concerning what these insights were, let alone adequately defend their legitimacy academically, but I will mention some of them in passing, and then return to a few of them in the project proposal, since they are closely tied to what I would like to accomplish.

Five crucial intellectual insights

In the first place, there is the close kinship between theology and philosophy. In fact, one could go so far as to say that they have the same origin, and that the stories of their development are almost inextricably intertwined, even though much of modern discourse might lead one to think otherwise. I had some awareness of this state of affairs even before 2015, but now I have a much more sophisticated understanding of what it actually entails.

In the second place, there is an equally or even more intimate association between Christianity and Greek (Hellenic) philosophy, and, more specifically, between patristic and medieval Christian theology and ancient Platonism. This is so, I would say, in spite of the tendency of much of recent scholarship in the field, which appears to be rooted in a desire to downplay or even sever the evident connection between “Athens” and “Jerusalem”. Those who are familiar with the overall drift of scholarship dealing with this topic back in the 1800s and early 1900s, will know that it usually tended in the very opposite direction – meaning towards the forthright acknowledgement of the role of “Athens” – and, therefore, towards the position I am now taking, or aiming to revive.

The affinity between those two was also one I had some understanding of a number of years ago, but what I have recently uncovered is, to me at least, nothing short of astounding. Here I am thinking of both the metaphysics outlined in the Republic and the probable origin of the writings of “Pseudo-Dionysius”.

In the third place, the Christian religion needs a new foundation, or, as I would prefer to say, a rediscovery and reappraisal of its foremost actual foundation – Platonism – if it is to have a future as a credible and intellectually viable spiritual path.

As the reader may already be acutely aware of, the combination of more than two centuries of unrelenting “Higher Criticism”, as well as a vast number of sensational and largely unforeseen archeological discoveries, in both Egypt and the Levant, has led to an almost complete dismantling of the once seemingly unassailable authority of Christian and Israelite Holy Scripture.

To employ an image, the Great Ship of the Church has been in the process of becoming wrecked on the jagged and merciless reefs of a wide array of startling discoveries for well over a century, yet there is, even now, a manifest reluctance to openly admit what has happened, and to pursue the necessary solutions.

Some would respond that we should simply abandon the Christian religion altogether, and either embrace a wholly different faith, if faith is the appropriate term – such as the preposterous notion that we could and should turn ourselves into gods by way of technology – or, alternatively, make do with whatever this brief present life and the tangible world around us has to offer. To my mind, such are far too reckless, arrogant and revolutionary ways of thinking. The momentous scientific breakthroughs of the past two or three centuries do not alter the fact that Christianity, in one form or another, guided and sustained vast numbers of people in Europe for somewhere between eight hundred and two thousand years, depending on the region in view. A religion with a history such as that cannot simply be violently cast off and left behind to decompose, as if it were some hopelessly outworn garment – not by people with a sense of decency and justice and proportionality.

The better path forward, therefore – if Truth and Knowledge and intellectual honesty remain valid concerns, and the safeguarding of as many as possible of the loftier and more inspiring aspects of traditional Christianity, such as the transcendent dignity of the human individual, the immortality of the Individual Soul and the hope of a blissful Afterlife in the presence of the Supreme Deity, is a priority – is to gladly acknowledge and embrace and celebrate the one remaining Christian foundation which has not been seriously shaken, and which is unlikely to be shaken in the future, namely Platonism, and to make this, along with the words of Christ Himself, as recorded in the Gospels, the foremost basis of Christianity in the future.

In the fourth place, those aspects and tenets of ancient Platonism which to us appear ambiguous, and which remain surrounded by debate and controversy, could, in all likelihood, be significantly elucidated by a systematic study of the thought of ancient India and ancient Egypt.

In the case of India, even a cursory comparison of Platonism with some of the so-called darshanas (“ways of seeing”) or schools of philosophy reveals striking similarities. The Vedic concepts of Satya, Truth, Vidya, Knowledge, and Avidya, Ignorance, are wonderful examples of that. In addition to this, there is a possible connection between Plato’s Republic and the Vedic Manava Dharma Shastra, or the Lawbook of Manu, as Sir William Jones called it. Strangely, however, this kinship between Greek and Indian thought appears to have received only scanty amounts of attention since it was uncovered by European scholars in the 1800s (c.f. Urwick, 1920, for example).

As regards ancient Egypt, even a fairly superficial survey of Egyptian religion and iconography is enough to discover the indubitable or likely presence of numerous concepts closely resembling Platonic ones, such as the Inner or Third Eye (symbolized by the Uraeus), Divine Kingship, an Afterlife, an Individual Soul, Winged Spiritual Beings and a Hidden or Spiritual Sun, a thousand years or more anterior in time to Plato.

There is also, of course, the wealth of arithmetic and geometric, three-dimensional and astronomical science encoded in the architecture of the great pyramids – leading the informed observer to ponder the exact nature of Plato’s Art of the Turning Around of the Soul, outlined in the Republic (Book VII, 518d, 525a–528d).

None of these facets of ancient Egypt should surprise us, however, for we must not allow ourselves to forget that both Plato himself and the traditions concerning Pythagoras made Egypt one of the preeminent seats of wisdom and piety in the ancient Mediterranean world. Unfortunately, the popular European and Western perception of the nature of the great Nile Valley civilization of old remains clouded by the exceedingly crude and one-sided portrayals of that civilization in the Old Testament, and I think it is high time to dispel such misconceptions, and to consider anew what ancient Egypt actually presents us with.

Lastly, there is an immense amount of work waiting to be done regarding the bringing of both theology and philosophy into dialogue with, and – if possible – accord with the many momentous discoveries made over the last 150 years or so in the fields of biology, physics, astronomy, psychology, parapsychology, linguistics, and so on and so forth. I am of the view that it makes little sense to spend precious time attempting to either prop up religious or philosophic dogmas or pursuing idiosyncratic speculations if such activities run completely counter to the discoveries alluded to above, since these have now been so well substantiated that they may be regarded as certainties – insofar as anything in the Realm of Becoming can be called certain – and not mere theories.

These are some examples of what I have in mind: The phenomenon of Human Consciousness remains a mystery. The same goes for the inception of the event referred to as the Big Bang. Hence, two of the most fundamental components of our everyday experience, namely our own selves and the world experienced as external, remain enigmas. Moreover, the so-called Fine-Tuning of the universe appears to preclude the notion of a purely coincidental development – unless one is willing, as some indeed are, to postulate a truly infinite number of universes – and also to reveal that the Universe is in fact “fine-tuned” for life.

The discipline of quantum physics only adds to the conundrum, as it leads to the conclusion that there is a vast and astonishing difference between the world as we experience it and the invisible, immaterial realm which causes its generation, and of which the world of the senses is constantly being made, so to speak. Here, Plato’s Divided Line comes to mind.

Then there is Jungian psychology, which, in a sense, does the same with our inner cosmos as physics and astronomy have done with the outer one, rendering it virtually incontestable that we do not fully know what we are or whence we come, psychologically speaking. As for parapsychology, it has proven beyond all reasonable doubt that there is indeed an invisible Individual Soul or Animating Principle, capable of independent existence both before and after bodily death, and also that there is Survival, meaning a spiritual Afterlife, or a Life after life, as some have styled it.

In sum, one could say that while science in the past, and for a long while, appeared to discredit and be incompatible with, or, at the very least, to be unable to say anything of, the transcendent and metaphysical claims of traditional Christianity and the Platonic Tradition, the tide began to turn in the late 19^th or early 20^th century, and presently science is increasingly showing that all the claims made by sages of the past were, if taken in a broad sense, perfectly true.

At present, serious attempts to integrate these discoveries into the academic fields of theology and philosophy are few and far between, though, leading to a strange dissonance between, on the one hand, the content of university lectures and academic literature, and, on the other, the actual state of affairs as regards what has been achieved. When science has virtually proven “dualism” – an inaccurate and often deliberately disparaging label used by “monists” to signify a variety of traditional worldviews – to be true, and Consciousness to be anterior to and irreducible to matter, and the Individual Soul to be real, it is fashionable to ignore all this, and to publicly deride “dualism”, and to speak of matter or the brain as giving rise to Consciousness, and to ridicule the notion of “disembodied” entities.

At a time when a number of fields could have been converging, in the most magnificent and fascinating manner, and in a fashion never before seen in recorded history, those fields are being kept apart, and the future of science stunted, partly due to ignorance and partly due to an unwillingness to go where the evidence leads, it seems. While all sorts of rather petty and inconsequential inquires are being pursued, the Great Questions and the sincere desire for Truth and Knowledge are being stifled and abandoned. This has to change, if we are to have a future worth having, and I would like to make whatever contribution I can to making it change.

My long and thorny journey towards Platonic convictions

Another major reason why I have now decided to pursue an academic career is that I have taken a keen interest in topics such as Platonism and ancient history for well over a decade, and that I consider myself a Christian Platonist in terms of worldview. Hence, for that reason as well, this is not that great a change of direction to make.

Although my first truly intellectual awakening could be said to have come back in 2004 and 2005, when I was working on a personal book project dealing with the nature, the history and the culture of the beautiful island (Jeloy) where I grew up, the first time I made an effort to tackle the kind of philosophical issues raised by Platonic philosophy was in 2007 and 2008, when, inspired by the poet William Butler Yeats, my focus had changed to that of Romantic English poetry, and I was working on a number of long and highly unusual poems. In one of the more significant of these lyrical compositions, the protagonist prays for permission to be released from the physical body, and ultimately journeys beyond the physical universe, where he at last encounters the singular object of his spiritual longing, a great, feminine Mystery. I styled this poem “Beyond It All”.

As the philosophic reader has probably noticed, this poem would appear to contain some of the central features of the Platonic worldview. At the time I knew little or nothing about Plato’s dialogues, however. The recognition that it was Platonism that had the “system” I had been seeking, and that Platonism should be my way forward, was only formed gradually, when, as the result of my encountering a concise presentation of Platonic metaphysics online, which I found wonderfully appealing, I did a search for presentations of Platonic philosophy, and began watching what turned out to be a fantastic series of lectures on the subject, conducted by an American Platonist and teacher, Dr. Pierre Grimes.

Originally recorded in 1990s, and comprising hundreds of hours of elaborate blackboard presentations, as well as some hilarious classroom discussions, that absolutely unforgettable series of lectures kindled in me, for the first time in my life, the desire to read some of Plato’s dialogues myself. Ambitious as I was (and had always been), I decided to cut my teeth on the Republic, which seemed like the most interesting one of them all. For good measure, I also bought Proclus’ Elements of Theology. This was in 2010. The Republic was interesting, but I did not truly comprehend it, although I thought I did so at the time. The Elements overwhelmed me almost immediately. I was not ready for either of them, not intellectually mature enough.

Still, a process of development had begun, albeit somewhat eccentric, perhaps. Over the next three years or so, I immersed myself in ancient history, classics and religion whenever I had some time on my hands. I read all of Herodotus, all of Livy, all of Edward Gibbon, all of C.S. Lewis, almost all of St. Augustine of Hippo, and so on and so forth. For a while, I thought of returning to Australia, where I had studied art and design back in 2002 and 2003, and there undertake a bachelor’s degree, and I was in fact admitted as a student to the University of Sydney, but my plans were ultimately foiled by economic difficulties.

By early 2015, I had decided that studying theology in my home country of Norway was the best available option. Theology would enable me, it seemed, to indulge three of my enduring personality traits, namely (1) my thirst for knowledge of the Divine – or rather of how the Divine has been understood and interpreted over the course of the ages, (2) my enthusiasm for words and languages and etymologies and (3) my yearning for actual encounters with what one might call the Beautiful, the Holy and the Transcendent.

Moreover, since it was, more than anything else, the following realization that sparked my interest in Platonic philosophy, namely that ancient Platonism was as much about what we now denominate “theology” as about the kind of narrowly rationalistic inquiries we today tend to associate with “philosophy”, I did not feel that I was abandoning the quest I had begun in 2010 – no, I was simply approaching it from a different angle. This consolation was reinforced by claims to the effect that Christianity had been profoundly influenced by the Platonic Tradition – claims whose veracity I have later been able to validate in full myself.

In 2018, when I had begun working on the master’s degree, and the opportunity to delve into Plato in conjunction with the theology study finally arrived, I was soon reading the Republic again, and this time, it was as though a veil had been lifted. I remember being particularly struck by Plato’s definition of what philosophy is (Book VII of the Republic, 521c) and by the passage on large and small “letters” – the City Without and the City within – which announces the purpose of the subsequent creation of a hypothetical city (Book II, 368d–369b). As Socrates says: “When this has been done, can we hope to see what we’re looking for more easily?” “Far more easily,” agrees Adeimantus.

Then, in September 2019, I commenced the writing of my thesis, and thenceforth I spent much of the remainder of that autumn scrutinizing both a variety of English translations and the original Greek. I did not, of course, possess an education in Attic Greek, but my knowledge of Biblical or Koine Greek turned out to be sufficient to perform at least partial evaluations of different translations, and to identify various issues. Over the first three months in 2020, I proceeded to carry out a similar examination of two of the central works of St. Augustine of Hippo, i.e. Confessions and De Trinitate. Upon the handing in of my completed thesis, in late May 2020, I was exhausted, but also satisfied and excited, as I was convinced that I had carried out an exceedingly thorough analysis of the topic and the works in question – insofar as doing so was possible while under the limitations inherent in a master’s thesis project – without loosing sight of the need for clarity, and for an appealing language, and also as I sensed that I had actually made some significant discoveries – or perhaps I should say rediscoveries of rarely mentioned finds made by people in the past. This impression of mine appeared to find its confirmation when the thesis was awarded with a grade of A.

Final words

This is why I am here, writing this letter to you. A silent inner voice is continually telling me that I have to find a way to pursue this intellectual passion of mine before it is too late, and the image being painted in my mind is one in which I have reached a major crossroads in my life, where it is crucial to choose a path which will enable me to make use of the insights I have gained and the talents I have developed.