Hands-on, experiential spirituality is often referred to as “esoteric” — as in “esoteric Islam” or “the Western Esoteric Tradition” — for a few reasons. When most people read or use the term in this context, I think they mean the most obvious sense: esoteric spirituality is known to the few, it is kept for a select audience, and it is therefore obscure. But there is another sense to the word, ironically a somewhat hidden meaning.
Esoteric spirituality is inward (esoter). This can mean “inner” in the above sense of “kept to an in-group”, and that is how we mean it when we refer to our Kaula Tantra or our Tantra Kula (with “kula” and “kaula” both referring to a family or clan). But esoteric spiritualities such as Yoga, Sufism, contemplative Christianity, or pagan Hermeticism are also quite notably inside the individual practitioner.
Every spirituality, both esoteric and exoteric, has elements of community to it. Even the most solitary of hermits relates to some community, even if indirectly, such as receiving food donations and providing moral and spiritual inspiration in return. But only esoteric spirituality concerns itself first and foremost with the individual’s inner landscape as the principal focus.
Consider a typical religious congregation: everyone there at, say, a church on Sunday is relating to everyone else there as congregants. Each is also, at least in theory, relating to their deity individually and as a community. But in amongst them, whether they know it or not, there may be a contemplative, a congregant who has gone beyond the purely outward rituals, words, and forms, and has begun to dig into the symbolic meaning of those things and, more importantly, how those things reflect in the mind and heart. The transition from exoteric to esoteric spirituality has begun.
Such a person can conceivably pop up in nearly any religion and nearly any community. (I say “nearly” just because there are some religions and some communities which so strongly push against such people and their experiences as to necessitate their expulsion, voluntary or otherwise.) Their co-religionists may be entirely unaware of what has taken place, because it happens fully within the individual. It is, as it were, entirely between they and their god. Those religions which actively support or encourage such a turn may see people being more open about their inward turn, but the actual inner state is only rarely obvious.
What this means for the individual, however, is exceedingly important. When one is practicing exoteric religion, it can be fairly evident how “well” they are doing it. You can see a person following moral precepts, making appropriate offerings, attending ritual gatherings, volunteering at their place of worship, etc. That person can, then, have some idea of how “good” of a religionist they are, even if they are humble and honest enough to realize that they can always improve. But none of this is necessarily true of an esoteric practitioner, even of a religion with a strong exoteric presence.
Jesus once observed, with his usual drollery, that “A prophet is not without honour, but in his own country, and among his own kin, and in his own house.” (Mark 6:4, KJV) The same is true of the saint and the sage. Even Sri Ramana Maharshi, though recognized by many locals where he settled as a great sage (literally, a maharsi) could not be seen as such by his family, at least at first. They just saw a teenaged boy whose grades had slipped before he ran away from home.
More interestingly still, the mystic or contemplative is often at a loss as to their own state or progress. This is the hardest part of the spiritual endeavor for many of us, and it is also a reason why having a teacher and a lineage can be so very helpful. It is also why humility is so important. Though many an enlightened Zen master or Hindu jnani has declared themselves as such, some traditions still have a certification process or an expectation that one’s awakening be recognized in some fashion. Even with such recognition, Ramana Maharshi responded to criticism with a smile, saying that he would be happy to give a litany of his own faults.
Here’s a major lesson for each of us: being enlightened does not mean being flawless; being perfected does not mean being perfect.
While we may take vows, we may follow precepts, and we may observe how well or poorly we live up to them, we are often as in the dark as anyone on our spiritual progress — until those profound moments which cannot be adequately articulated arise in us which change our perception and shift our relationship with the world into a higher phase. Humility is necessary so that we do not think that temporary states of mind are more important than they really are, and so that we do not fall into the error of inflating our own sense of importance because of them. They are important to us, but not necessarily to anybody else, except insofar as they change our behavior for the better or worse. And that’s not only as it should be, it’s as it must be.
Doing rituals, meditating, chanting, all of these spiritual disciplines we take up, are there, ultimately, to point us back toward ourselves and to dissolve our internal obstructions. In large measure, we are preparing the ground for a process which basically runs itself. The results will show forth, often in what feel like fits and starts. In between, we just have to keep showing up.
A great essay with useful perspectives on different "levels". I especially liked your characterization of Jesus's teaching style as "droll". He might have been from some New England state-LOL. But, instead, he had to settle as being from a new spiritual state. Anyway, holding a mirror to oneself, especially when one is goin through a very prolonged and mysterious process of spiritual transformation is almost futile. If we watch night turn into day by staring at the sky it will seem as though nothing has changed until the sun actually rises. Might is be true that a watched pot never boils? And when it really does boil will one actually notice it?