Iamblichus, Theurgy, and the Gnostic Roots of Contemporary Theological Movements

Introduction

In May of this year, an interview with Brother Steve Montgomery explored the Gnostic influence on the New Apostolic Reformation (NAR). Montgomery noted that the doctrinal elements of the NAR can be historically traced through the Latter Rain Movement, the writings of Jane Lead, and ultimately back to Valentinian Gnosticism. In that discussion, he briefly mentioned the Neoplatonist thinker Iamblichus, a name that may have escaped the notice of many listeners. Yet, outside the recording, we discussed Iamblichus in greater depth, which sparked further research into his thought and its lingering influence on Christian theology and practice.¹⁾see video series “From Gnosticism to the NAR” Part 1 at: https://youtu.be/2dcSU19oUwQ Part 2 at: https://youtu.be/FVFOuCpGlN4 Part 3 at: https://youtu.be/J04aJOr77EI Part 4 at: https://youtu.be/OizCWk7SybM

The present article examines Iamblichus’ teachings through two primary works: On the Mysteries by Iamblichus himself, and Gregory Shaw’s doctoral study Theurgy and the Soul: The Neoplatonism of Iamblichus. The goal is not simply historical curiosity, but to consider how Iamblichus’ philosophy—particularly his doctrine of theurgy—was perceived as a threat to Christianity in late antiquity and continues to influence Christian practice today.

Iamblichus in Historical Context

Iamblichus was a leading intellectual of his age, born around A.D. 245 and descending from the royal priest-kings of Emesa. He died in 325, the very year of the Council of Nicaea. His philosophical influence did not pass away with him. Only a generation later, the emperor Julian—known to history as Julian the Apostate—attempted to reverse Constantine’s Christianization of the Roman Empire by re-establishing paganism.

Gregory Shaw summarizes Julian’s dependence on Iamblichus:

“Only one generation after Iamblichus’s death, the emperor Julian employed the Platonic and theurgic doctrines of Iamblichus in an attempt to wrest control of the empire away from the ‘Galileans’ [referring to Christians] and return it to the ancestral practices of the ‘Helenes’ [referring to Greek paganism]…. Julian recognized this and intended to re-paganize the empire on Iamblichean lines.”²⁾Gregory Shaw, Theurgy of the Soul: The Neoplatonism of Iamblichus, Anglico Press (Kettering, OH: 2014), p. 2

This observation is significant. Julian recognized in Iamblichus’ theurgy his greatest resource against Christianity. If paganism could be revitalized through the philosophical and ritual synthesis of Iamblichus, then Christianity could be displaced. Thus, when elements of Iamblichus’ philosophy appear in modern Christian movements, they cannot be harmonized with the faith of the New Testament.

Gnosticism, Platonism, and Syncretism

Gnosticism itself was a synthesis of Platonism and Christianity. This point is widely acknowledged in scholarly literature, and the introductions or footnotes to the Nag Hammadi codices regularly highlight the Platonic framework underlying Gnostic writings.

Shaw again illustrates Iamblichus’ attempt to revive pagan religiosity through ritual practice:

“Like Plato, Iamblichus believed his age was threatened by the loss of the gods, and he yearned for the time when gods and men were joined concretely through ritual. With theurgical Platonism, Iamblichus tried to recapture this Golden Age, and although he succeeded only within Platonic circles, his Syrian school presents probably the best synthesis of philosophy and ritual in the late antique world.”³⁾Gregory Shaw, Theurgy of the Soul: The Neoplatonism of Iamblichus, Anglico Press (Kettering, OH: 2014), p. 18

This demonstrates not only Iamblichus’ influence but also the direct parallel with Gnosticism, which similarly blended Platonic concepts with religious speculation. The difference lies in how each system viewed the material world. Most Gnostic sects, following a dualist worldview, regarded material creation as inherently evil. By contrast, Iamblichus maintained that creation was good, and like certain Hermetic Gnostic sects, he saw physical objects—such as idols—as suitable vehicles for divine worship.

This divergence is crucial. While dualistic Gnosticism sought escape from the material world, Iamblichus aimed to unite the spiritual and the physical through ritual and mystical union. His influence extended far beyond his lifetime, shaping the iconoclastic controversy within Christianity itself. The debates in Catholicism and Eastern Orthodoxy over the use of icons drew directly upon arguments rooted in Iamblichus’ theurgy.

The Many Faces of Platonism

It is misleading to speak of “Platonism” as a singular, fixed doctrine. Rather, the Platonic tradition spawned a variety of interpretations—Middle Platonism, Neoplatonism, and other schools. Plotinus, for example, viewed the material world as evil, aligning with the dualist tendencies of many Gnostic sects. Iamblichus, however, affirmed creation as good and emphasized ritual as a means of divine participation.

The result was a wide spectrum of views: some pursued salvation through escape from the physical world, while others sought mystical union by drawing the divine into the material. All of these currents, however, represent attempts to read Plato through divergent lenses, and they profoundly shaped Gnostic readings of Scripture.

Defining Theurgy

Central to Iamblichus’ thought is the concept of theurgy. Gregory Shaw defines it as follows:

“The meaning of theurgy in the history of Platonism becomes clear if it is seen as the praxis that allowed souls to move from the experience of embodiment as an isolated prison to a participation in the World Soul, where its particularity was re-established in the unity of the whole.”⁴⁾Gregory Shaw, Theurgy of the Soul: The Neoplatonism of Iamblichus, Anglico Press (Kettering, OH: 2014), p. 62

Shaw even footnotes a comparison to Yoga, which similarly seeks mystical union with the divine. In Hinduism, this entails union with the “One” or “All,” reflecting a pantheistic monism. In Iamblichus’ system, it is participation in the World Soul. Shaw concludes:

“In imitation of divine beings, the body of the theurgist became a vehicle through which the gods appeared to the physical world and through which he received their communion.”⁵⁾Gregory Shaw, Theurgy of the Soul: The Neoplatonism of Iamblichus, Anglico Press (Kettering, OH: 2014), p. 64

Thus, the purpose of theurgy was not to escape the physical world but to serve as a conduit for divine presence within it. The theurgist became the instrument through which the gods entered the material realm.

The etymology of the word underscores this idea. Theurgy derives from the Greek words theos (god) and ergon (work)—literally “the work of the gods.” As Shaw summarizes,

“Iamblichus maintained that since divination came from the gods it was ‘divine work,’ hence, theourgia.”⁶⁾Gregory Shaw, Theurgy of the Soul: The Neoplatonism of Iamblichus, Anglico Press (Kettering, OH: 2014), p. 259

Theurgy and the Animation of Matter

Iamblichus describes divination in terms that illuminate his entire religious project:

“But if this divine power extends in its predictions to inanimate objects, such as little pebbles, rods, or certain woods, stones, wheat, and barley meal, this is itself the most astonishing prognostication by divine divination, because it gives life to inanimate thing [literally, ‘gives soul to soulless things’] and motion to things motionless, and makes all clear, knowledgeable, and participating in reason, and definable according to the measures of intelligence, and yet having no reason in themselves.”⁷⁾Iamblichus, On the Mysteries (trans Emma C. Clarke, John M. Dillon and Jackson P. Hershbell), Society of Biblical Literature (Atlanta, GA, 2003), p. 163

This statement is remarkable for several reasons. First, it articulates a philosophy of ensoulment—the belief that divine ritual could infuse inert matter with life, knowledge, and rationality. It is not difficult to see how such a claim could have been pressed into service during the iconoclastic controversy, or in Catholic theology regarding the Eucharist. In both cases, the claim is made that divine agency transforms otherwise ordinary objects (wood, stone, bread, or wine) into conduits of grace and presence.

The Eucharistic wafer, for instance, is said in Catholic theology to become the body of Christ through consecration. This transformation echoes Iamblichus’ assertion that the divine “gives soul to soulless things.” Similarly, the defense of icons in Orthodoxy often rested on the belief that images could mediate divine presence—an argument with strong Iamblichean parallels.

Yet Iamblichus did not stop at the level of material transformation. His greater emphasis lay in the theurgy of the soul, wherein human beings themselves were to be transfigured into receptacles of divine presence.

Divine Possession and Ecstasy

In On the Mysteries (Book III), Iamblichus devotes extended discussion to divine inspiration. His conceptual vocabulary draws from the Greek terms ἔκστασις (ekstasis, source of the English “ecstasy”) and μαντική (mantikē, the root of “mantic” and “mania”). These words reveal how the Greeks understood “inspiration” not as rational illumination, but as possession.

He writes:

“In this area also, I want to make clear the characteristic signs of those who are truly possessed by the gods. For if they have subjected their entire life as a vehicle or instrument to the gods who inspire them, either they exchange their human life for the divine, or they direct their own life towards the god; they neither act according to sensation, nor are they awake in the manner of those who have their senses aroused; neither do they themselves apprehend the future, nor are they moved like those who act according to purpose. But they are not even conscious of themselves, neither as they were before, nor in any other fashion, nor, in general, do they turn their personal intelligence upon themselves, nor do they project any personal knowledge.”⁸⁾Iamblichus, On the Mysteries (trans Emma C. Clarke, John M. Dillon and Jackson P. Hershbell), Society of Biblical Literature (Atlanta, GA, 2003), p. 129

This is an almost clinical description of what modern readers would call possession. The individual is emptied of self-awareness, rendered a passive instrument, and used as a vehicle for divine utterance. As Iamblichus notes, they neither act with sensation, nor are they conscious of their own words or deeds. They become what he calls a “receptacle,” wholly inhabited by the god.

The contrast with biblical inspiration is striking. The prophets of Israel remained conscious and morally responsible, even when overwhelmed by the word of the Lord. Jeremiah, for instance, could decide to resist his prophetic calling:

“Then I said, I will not make mention of him, nor speak any more in his name. But his word was in mine heart as a burning fire shut up in my bones, and I was weary with forbearing, and I could not stay.” (Jer. 20:9)

Likewise, in Jeremiah 42:7, the prophet waited ten days before receiving a word from God for the people—an indication that he was not in a state of continuous possession. The prophets argued, delayed, and at times resisted God’s will (as in the cases of Jonah and Habakkuk), proving their full consciousness and agency.

Iamblichus’ “ecstasy,” then, is better understood as demonic possession rather than biblical inspiration.

The New Apostolic Reformation and the Return of Ecstasy

Here the parallels with the New Apostolic Reformation (NAR) become acute. In my conversation with Steve Montgomery, we observed that some NAR prophets describe angelic possession in precisely Iamblichean terms: a total surrender of volition, wherein angels direct the actions of the possessed. This theological framework even extends to what Montgomery calls the “sacred purge”—the notion that killing the wicked could be carried out without sin, since it would be an angel, not the human agent, performing the deed.

This chilling rationale mirrors Iamblichus’ claim that a possessed person “neither acts according to sensation” nor retains consciousness of self. If the will is suspended, then so too is moral accountability. In this way, the theology of possession provides cover for acts of violence under the guise of divine mandate.

Mystical Eros and the Keswick Tradition

The influence of Platonic mysticism can also be traced into modern evangelical traditions. Robert Pearsall Smith—husband of Hannah Whitall Smith—was once celebrated as a leader in the Keswick movement but was eventually rejected for teaching a “secret doctrine” of erotic spirit baptism. While often assumed to be sexual in nature, his “erotic” language more likely drew from Plato’s concept of eros as spiritual desire.

For Plato, eros was a daimon, a spiritual mediator that propelled the soul toward the divine. Iamblichus’ theurgy functioned similarly, uniting human beings with the gods through ritual mediation. In the Keswick movement, the Smiths translated this into a mystical, ecstatic experience of divine union.

This reveals a direct continuity: from Gnostic mysticism, to Neoplatonic theurgy, to 19th-century evangelical movements, and now into contemporary charismatic Christianity.

Material Receptacles and Ritual Practice

Iamblichus also elaborates on the use of material objects in ritual:

“Observing this, and discovering in general, in accordance with the properties of each of the gods, the receptacles adapted to them, the theurgic art in many cases links together stones, plants, animals, aromatic substances, and other such things that are sacred, perfect and godlike, and then from all these composes an integrated and pure receptacle.”⁹⁾Iamblichus, On the Mysteries (trans Emma C. Clarke, John M. Dillon and Jackson P. Hershbell), Society of Biblical Literature (Atlanta, GA, 2003), p. 269

In his vision, all of creation bore traces of divinity, and therefore any material substance could be assembled into a ritual medium. Gregory Shaw explains:

“As such they were pure specimens of divine presence in matter, and for souls suffering a specific imbalance within the administration of the divine being, the objects that bore its symbol (sunthēma) became homeopathic antidotes if handled in a ritually appropriate manner.”¹⁰⁾Gregory Shaw, Theurgy of the Soul: The Neoplatonism of Iamblichus, Anglico Press (Kettering, OH: 2014), p. 53

Here one finds the intellectual root of ritual practices involving icons, relics, incense, candles, and other sensory aids to worship. Dan Kimball, in The Emerging Church, essentially makes the same argument in contemporary terms—advocating the use of candles, images, and sensory experiences to encounter God.¹¹⁾see Dan Kimbell, The Emerging Church: Vintage Christianity for a New Generation, Zondervan (Grand Rapids, MI: 2003).

The influence extends further, into music. Shaw notes:

“Musical theurgy was a form of anamnesis that awakened the soul to its celestial identity with the gods…. Musical theurgy came from the gods and gave the soul direct contact with them.”¹²⁾Gregory Shaw, Theurgy of the Soul: The Neoplatonism of Iamblichus, Anglico Press (Kettering, OH: 2014), p. 197

This is uncomfortably close to the philosophy of worship at Bethel Redding, where music is deliberately designed to induce trance-like states. As The Physics of Heaven admits, these practices are consciously drawn from New Age philosophy.¹³⁾see Judy Franklin and Ellyn Davis, The Physics of Heaven, Destiny Image Publishers, Inc. (Shippensburg, PA: 2012).

The same dynamic applies to the practice of tongues. Iamblichus observed:

“And the invocations do not arouse inspirations of the intellect or bodily emotions in the one receiving them: for they are wholly unknown and mysterious, and are spoken intelligibly only for the god whom they invoke.”¹⁴⁾Iamblichus, On the Mysteries (trans Emma C. Clarke, John M. Dillon and Jackson P. Hershbell), Society of Biblical Literature (Atlanta, GA, 2003), p. 179

In other words, chanting meaningless syllables was a theurgic act intended to facilitate divine union. What many assume to be a unique Christian practice thus bears striking resemblance to ancient pagan ritual.

Conclusion

From the animation of matter, to the possession of the soul, to the use of objects, music, and unintelligible speech as conduits of divine power, Iamblichus’ system of theurgy provides a startling lens for examining contemporary Christian movements. The parallels with the New Apostolic Reformation, the Keswick tradition, Catholic sacramental theology, and the Emerging Church all suggest that his influence has never disappeared—it has simply been baptized into new forms.

In light of these connections, the warnings raised by Steve Montgomery take on greater urgency. If the same currents of Neoplatonic mysticism that once undergirded Gnosticism and threatened the early church are again flowing into contemporary Christianity, then discernment is needed now more than ever. This is further confirmation of my prediction that the end times apostasy would be a revived form of Gnosticism in my book Crept In Unawares.¹⁵⁾Many excerpts are available to readon this website. See https://truthwatchers.com/crept-in-unawares-mysticism-book-release/