Wisdom Within — Chapter 36

To Believe and To Know

There is a great gulf between belief and knowledge. To believe is to trust in second-hand sources—in words spoken, in books written, in slogans repeated, in the images of screens and the echoes of authority. Belief rests on faith in another’s testimony, but it is not yet sight. To know, by contrast, is to stand face-to-face with the truth, to encounter it with the six senses, to live it in one’s own being.³⁷⁶

Consider a box of chocolates. If you have never opened it, but only read the label or listened to the descriptions of others, the most you can say when asked is, “I believe it tastes like this.” Your faith is built upon the words of others, but the sweetness is not yet yours. To know, you must break the seal, place the morsel upon your tongue, and taste it yourself. Then there is no room for doubt, for the experience is immediate, undeniable, beyond belief.³⁷⁷

Now consider something heavier, something that stains history with blood. On the battlefield you and your comrades witness a massacre in the midst of war. You hear the cries, you see the dead, you carry the memory in your bones. But the war is lost, and the victors bury their crimes with lies. Historians under their command rewrite the story, cleansing the pages, declaring that the massacre never occurred. Centuries pass, and those who come after, reading only the official accounts, say, “I believe history unfolded in this way.” Their trust rests on records, but not on sight. Yet you and your comrades, who stood in the dust and smoke, who saw with your own eyes, can say: “We know the record is false.” For no book can erase the truth that was carved into your memory.³⁷⁸

Extend this further, into the realm of the spirit. Imagine a monk who has given his life to meditation, who has sat in stillness for years, following breath into silence. One day, his consciousness breaks through the veil and enters the vast expanse of a reality beyond the physical. At first he trembles, overwhelmed by the strangeness. But he returns again and again, until he learns the paths of that greater world. Now when he is asked, “Do you believe there is more than this material life?” he does not answer, “I believe.” He answers, “I know.” For his knowing does not depend on scriptures or teachers or faith, but on direct vision.³⁷⁹

In the words of the great esoteric psychologist Carl Jung, when asked if he believed in God, he replied, “I do not believe—I know.” This is the essence. Belief leans upon others; knowledge rests upon the self. Belief is a candle lit from afar; knowledge is the flame in your own hand.³⁸⁰

To believe is just the beginning, but to know is the final consummation. One is borrowed light; the other is the sun itself.³⁸¹

Commentary

376: “There is a great gulf between belief and knowledge. To believe is to trust in second-hand sources—in words spoken, in books written, in slogans repeated, in the images of screens and the echoes of authority. Belief rests on faith in another’s testimony, but it is not yet sight. To know, by contrast, is to stand face-to-face with the truth, to encounter it with the six senses, to live it in one’s own being.”

This opening draws the fundamental contrast: belief relies on borrowed testimony, while knowledge arises only from direct experience. The gulf emphasizes the difference between mediated truth and lived truth.

377: “Consider a box of chocolates. If you have never opened it, but only read the label or listened to the descriptions of others, the most you can say when asked is, ‘I believe it tastes like this.’ Your faith is built upon the words of others, but the sweetness is not yet yours. To know, you must break the seal, place the morsel upon your tongue, and taste it yourself. Then there is no room for doubt, for the experience is immediate, undeniable, beyond belief.”

Here a simple analogy makes the point tangible: belief can only approximate reality, while knowledge requires direct taste. Sensory engagement transcends second-hand accounts.

378: “Now consider something heavier, something that stains history with blood. On the battlefield you and your comrades witness a massacre in the midst of war. You hear the cries, you see the dead, you carry the memory in your bones. But the war is lost, and the victors bury their crimes with lies. Historians under their command rewrite the story, cleansing the pages, declaring that the massacre never occurred. Centuries pass, and those who come after, reading only the official accounts, say, ‘I believe history unfolded in this way.’ Their trust rests on records, but not on sight. Yet you and your comrades, who stood in the dust and smoke, who saw with your own eyes, can say: ‘We know the record is false.’ For no book can erase the truth that was carved into your memory.”

This section grounds the idea in historical and moral gravity. The example of war crimes highlights how official narratives may conceal truth, yet lived knowledge remains unerasable in witnesses.

379: “Extend this further, into the realm of the spirit. Imagine a monk who has given his life to meditation, who has sat in stillness for years, following breath into silence. One day, his consciousness breaks through the veil and enters the vast expanse of a reality beyond the physical. At first he trembles, overwhelmed by the strangeness. But he returns again and again, until he learns the paths of that greater world. Now when he is asked, ‘Do you believe there is more than this material life?’ he does not answer, ‘I believe.’ He answers, ‘I know.’ For his knowing does not depend on scriptures or teachers or faith, but on direct vision.”

This moves from sensory and historical knowledge to mystical experience. The monk’s vision illustrates that spiritual realities, too, can be known directly through disciplined practice, not merely believed.

380: “In the words of the great esoteric psychologist Carl Jung, when asked if he believed in God, he replied, ‘I do not believe—I know.’ This is the essence. Belief leans upon others; knowledge rests upon the self. Belief is a candle lit from afar; knowledge is the flame in your own hand.”

Jung’s statement crystallizes the teaching: belief is external dependency, while knowledge is inward certainty. The imagery of light reinforces the contrast between borrowed and self-realized illumination.

381: “To believe is just the beginning, but to know is the final consummation. One is borrowed light; the other is the sun itself.”

The conclusion summarizes the ascent: belief as a preparatory stage, knowledge as fulfillment. Borrowed light points the way, but the sun of direct experience is the true end.