CHAPTER XIV.

THE MESSAGE OF BUDDHISM—PURITY AND PHILANTHROPY.

There is a great fascination attaching to the name of Gautama, the Buddha, almost all over the world to-day: partly on account of the wide reading of Sir Edwin Arnold's extremely beautiful poem, “The Light of Asia,” and partly by reason of the extremely widespreading interest in a general study of Comparative Religion. To some minds Buddhism appeals as a system of philanthropic philosophy, not properly religious, because it appears that there are no definitely theological elements in the system as originally taught and promulgated, but as definitions of religion are many and varied, and as several hundred millions of our fellow human beings accept it as their religion, and declare that they take refuge in Buddha as confidently as the devoutest Christians take refuge in Christ, Buddhism may fairly rank, not only as a religion, but as one of the great religions of the world. James Freeman Clarke, in his splendid treatise, “Ten Great Religions,” has styled Buddhism the Protestantism of the East, though from its present ceremonial aspects it far more closely resembles Catholicism. It differs radically from Brahminism in its repudiation of caste and by its insistence upon a philanthropic life, regardless of ritual observances. Though recently readmitted into India, for many centuries Buddhists were forced to live outside the land which gave their religion birth, and it was in Ceylon and in Thibet that the two great divisions of the Buddhist faith found their representative respective homes. Northern Buddhism is distinctly Theistic, consequently it cannot be pessimistic, for Theism and Pessimism are diametrically opposed; but Southern Buddhism has been accounted atheistic and also pessimistic. We incline to another view of Buddhistic teaching in its entirety from that taken by those who make these claims concerning even a section of it. The character of the traditional Buddha, Prince Gautama, is extremely beautiful, though it is by no means perfect in all regards. About 600 B. C. this prince was born in India, at a time when mighty teachers were about to stir the world in many districts. Old legends state that the birth of the child who was to become a Buddha was heralded by many wondrous signs, such as are traditionally associated with the advent of all great spiritual leaders. One testimony is that certain eminent astrologers declared that the infant prince would either become a singularly powerful earthly monarch or else renounce the world and become the Buddha he became, the choice being in his own will. His father earnestly desired that he should take the regal earthly pathway and did his utmost to further that ambitious end, but from very early years the boy showed indifference to worldly honors, and began to evince extreme solicitude for the downtrodden and afflicted wherever he beheld them. All in vain did the king make efforts to keep all sight of human distress beyond the sight of his youthful son; the boy could not be effectually shielded from the vision of prevailing misery, and it is related in many an Indian tale that if his father’s orders were strictly observed, so that no pitiable spectacle of misery could reach the lad’s outward gaze, the Devas would present to him pictures of distress, the contemplation of which, though only saddening him at first, soon aroused within him an unconquerable determination to break away from royal restraints and plunge into the vortex of suffering humanity to discover the cause for such harrowing phenomena. At the early age of sixteen the young prince was married to a charming princess, to whom he was devotedly attached, and his life in general was one spent in the midst of all procurable mental and physical delights.

But nothing could silence the distress which increased within him whenever he mentally contrasted his own luxurious lot with the wretched portion of multitudes of others who apparently deserved as well at the hands of the universe as he. Unrest increased within him to such an extent that he could enjoy nothing while he felt that others were suffering whom possibly he might relieve. It was with that sentiment his incipient Buddhahood began to dawn, and it was that same emotion which led him to renounce every delight in life and to go forth on the serious quest for knowledge regarding the source of human misery which no splendor and no personal affection could induce him to ignore.

It was in the very earliest stages of his career that this ardent lover of afflicted humanity inclined toward pessimism, and it is never an occasion for surprise when the young and tender-hearted give way to feelings akin to despair on their first introduction to sorrow and death, which are always heartrending spectacles until we have learned to regard them with philosophic calm and as not ultimately irreconcilable with Divine beneficence. Grief and death as ends in themselves never can be thus reconciled, but as factors in evolution they come to be seen as transmutable into very decided blessings; and as Gautama proceeded along his upward spiritual journey he not only apprehended that glorious truth, he taught it with joyful enthusiasm to all disciples who would accept it.

In his early hermit days he followed the rigidly ascetic path which gave him discipline but could not bring him joy. No satisfaction could he win from the teachings of the ascetics with whom he consorted; he could only learn the lesson pointed out by the author of Ecclesiastes, that from the standpoint, first of the sensualist and then of the intellectualist, whose eyes have not yet been opened to discern spiritual realities, “all is vanity and vexation of spirit.” Teachers of conventional religion could recommend fastings and all manner of austerities. and these the growing Buddha tried, but they could not yield him peace, nor could they answer the mighty question, the true reply to which he was determined in some manner to obtain. It is recorded that he lived a domestic life for thirteen years, for his age is given as twenty-nine when he took the decisive step and broke away from family ties to enter upon a mission to the suffering of the world. Much might be said pro and con as to the value of the example hereby set, and it would need considerable caution to handle this episode judiciously and helpfully. Certainly this was no case of desertion or of leaving a family unprovided for, because a palace remained the home for wife and child, while the husband and father was out on his pilgrim mission. Oftentimes we hear men eulogized for going to the battlefield, and it is by no means uncommon for patriotic wives, regardless of the greatest personal suffering, to rejoice in the valor of their husbands; surely then, if warfare can supply sufficient reason for leaving home and kindred, the consciousness of a mighty spiritual mission may be urged with even greater earnestness. There is always something intensely noble in the spirit which prompts to voluntary self-sacrifice for good of others, though there is something mean and contemptible in that hysterical thought about one’s personal salvation which has prompted many to seek refuge from the world in convents and monasteries, lest they should suffer individual contamination by associating with unrighteousness. Whenever there is an apparent conflict between a lesser and a larger work, it is always heroic to choose the larger, especially when that choice involves relinquishment of domestic joys and other legitimate pleasures which are standing in the way of the fulfilment of a larger ministry. Gautama soon began to teach that every man must work out his own salvation; there is no place for any vicarious atonement in his system. But how is salvation to be worked out? That is the vital question. The Buddha’s doctrine of the Way of Enlightenment differed widely from the inculcations of the Brahmin priests, for as he discovered truth by delving into the inmost recesses of his own being, so did he counsel his disciples to do the same. Concerning the Ultimate Reality he never dogmatized, but he declared when one reached the state of Buddhahood he perceived it without speculation. Between Nirvana and Para-Nirvana, enlightened Buddhists make a great distinction, Nirvana being a condition of rest and peace, while Para-Nirvana signifies a state of realization of Divine Unity beyond the power of language to describe. The general philosophy of Buddhism is summed up in the teaching concerning the four Great Truths, which are: Concerning Suffering; Concerning the Source of Suffering; Concerning Cessation of Suffering; Concerning the Way that Leads to Release from Suffering. Suffering is due to attachment to the illusions of the mortal plane; therefore deliverance from pain can only be accomplished by the transference of our affections from the transitory to the permanent. Instruction on this theme carries us far along a most important pathway, but is a road we need to tread very cautiously, lest we mistake callousness for spirituality. Against this danger Mrs. Besant has warned her readers very clearly, and it would be well for all who show a tendency to confound indifference to human affection with hopeful signs of spiritual development to read very thoughtfully the excellent counsels and warnings given by this representative Theosophist, whose appreciation of the excellences of Oriental philosophy is unsurpassed in any direction. There can be no real emancipation from suffering until we can no longer derive benefit from its continuance. The only sane and sensible view to take of suffering is that it is a corrective and educational experience, entirely good and indeed altogether necessary, so long as we can only learn certain needed lessons through its agency, then not only superfluous, but actually impossible when we have outgrown conditions in the midst of which it can serve a useful purpose. This is the teaching of the entire book of Job, a magnificent poem, dramatically portraying the uses of affliction and calculated to inspire the studious reader with a sense of profound gratitude for the ministry of those painful experiences which lead up to a blissful knowledge of truth otherwise unattainable. To call Buddhism pessimistic is almost as absurd as to call Judaism pessimistic, because individual Jews may appear to be pessimists; yet the parrot cry is raised continually that Buddhists are all pessimists, and seek a substitute for bliss in the oblivion of annihilation. The Buddhist Church has indeed become so largely formalistic that ritual observances, to which its alleged founder attached no importance whatever, have been allowed to obscure the pure ethical teachings of the greatly unfolded soul on whose doctrine the institution professes to be founded, and it is always possible for doubt and pessimism to grow and thrive where only ceremony and tradition are insisted on. The doctrine of Karma, to which Buddhists all adhere, is an optimistic view of ultimate attainment when rightly comprehended. The source of suffering is in the illusory belief, with which we are all to some degree tinctured, that the outward shapes of things are the only realities, therefore we cling frantically to those transitory vehicles of the spirit, and suffer bitterly when they are disintegrated. If it be asked why humanity falls into this illusion, an answer is readily forthcoming—viz., that as we need our outward bodies temporarily, and we should not be likely to preserve them if we did not value them, the over-estimate we place upon them is simply an exaggeration of their importance. It is not by steeling ourselves against affection and becoming anchorites that we can tread Buddha's eight-fold path to blessedness, but by learning to see things in due relative proportion and find this abiding entity, though the mortal sheath may disappear. Suffering ceases when we have outgrown all desire for separated existence, but we have no right to infer from this that there is no individual immortality; rather can we behold a glorious vision of life immortal when all entities composing our humanity are so perfectly united in mutual love that they constitute an indivisible unity. “Kill out the sense of separateness,” exhorts Mabel Collins, in “Light on the Path,” which is a paradoxical presentation of Buddhistic doctrine. Separateness does not mean individual distinctness, but mutual antagonism, and just so long as the slightest vestige of antagonistic feeling remains in any consciousness, the possessor thereof has not yet attained the bliss of the condition called Nirvana, which we are assured the Buddha reached before he quitted his mortal embodiment. The Sublime Eight-fold Path consists of Right Views; Right Aspirations; Right Speech; Right Conduct; Right Living; Right Effort; Right Mindfulness; Right Recollectedness. William Walter Atkinson, editor of “New Thought: A Journal of Practical Idealism,” published in Chicago, has styled Buddhism “Negative Idealism,” in contradistinction from “Positive Idealism,” for which he particularly stands; but though he thus designates the system (we think too sweepingly), he very wisely adds: “The two phases of Idealism are but two sides of the shield of Truth”; a most admirable remark. Our only regret is that the maker of it should have previously called Buddhism pessimistic. It is, of course, impossible to speak authoritatively for the Buddhist Church in any section of the world, unless one is an accredited official thereof, but it is not with later developments, in many cases loaded with undesirable accretions, that we need feel concerned if we wish to discover what was the original Buddhistic doctrine. An impartial outsider desiring to learn the tenets of primitive Christianity would very naturally turn to the New Testament for information, rather than to any one of the numerous sects and parties in Christendom which differ so widely one from the other. It has been reported that the Japanese, who were some time ago contemplating the adoption of a new State Religion to supplant their (at that time) unsatisfactory Shintoism, undertook to seriously consider Christianity. Christian missionaries had long been active in Japan, and much benevolent and educational work had been carried on in connection with the best of the missions. Propositions were therefore made that Christianity be carefully examined with a view to testing its adaptability to the religious needs of Japan, when straightway appeared about thirty distinct varieties of Christianity, each one put forward by its advocates as the nearest to the original Gospel of Jesus. What effect could so bewildering an array of rival Christianities have on the examiners but to cause them to decide that their own Shintoism was far less confusing, and though it might not be ideal, it was at any rate better adapted to Japan than such a bewildering array of competing denominations. Now if there are so many varieties of Christianity after nineteen centuries since its primitive inception. it is not surprising that in the course of about twenty-five centuries different phases of Buddhism have appeared, each sect or party claiming to give the truest and completest version of Gautama's original enunciations; but on that account we have no right to discard what we can clearly see is “wheat,” because we refuse to endorse the “tare” which has sprung up in the same field with it. Institutionalized Buddhism is not the Buddha's simple doctrine unalloyed with foreign elements, but all the established systems do contain very much that is worthy of a great world-enlightener, together with much that is conspicuously unworthy. In the Christian world we can trace the form of the Roman Catholic Hierarchy to the Roman Empire, and in Presbyterianism we can see the plan of the Roman Republic. No great spiritual teacher ever surrounded himself with the pomp and circumstance of a regal court, and in the case of the Buddha all accounts declare that though he was born into it he voluntarily renounced it. It is quite possible to carry out ceremonies in the name of one who cared nothing about them, provided he did not expressly forbid them, but to claim that he established them is sheer imposture which may delude the ignorant but can never deceive the educated. It is always the “letter” which killeth while the “spirit” giveth life, and yet it seems impossible to clothe any spirit without some letter. Organized Buddhism has erred exactly where all other systems have erred—viz., in over-emphasizing non-essentials, until with the lapse of ages the garments have come to be so highly prized that the original wearer has been quite obscured by such massive drapery and such heavy veils. Buddhism to-day is emerging from its long captivity and will soon present a smiling face to the world, no longer shrouded with the veils of cumbersome unnecessary ritual observances, and no longer exploited by ignorant and oppressive priests.

Nowhere in modern literature have we such a complete and beautiful setting forth of the essence of Buddhism as in Sir Edwin Arnold’s poem, “The Light of Asia,” which, though composed by a patriotic Englishman, received unqualified endorsement at the hands of the High Priest of Buddhism in Ceylon. Dr. J. M. Peebles and other distinguished American travelers have met with cordial welcome in that lovely island where, at Colombo, there has long been established a Buddhist School for Girls, under the kindly auspices of the Theosophical Society, where English women teach Cingalese maidens much that is highly useful and quite in harmony with the ancient Buddhistic faith.

It may seem strange to some that British women should engage in such a work, but it is one of great utility and calculated to accomplish a widely beneficent end. India and Ceylon are parts of the British Empire, therefore it is the plain duty of enlightened British people to do their utmost to bring about good-fellowship between the native populations and the British. Instead of endeavoring to take from them their ancestral faith and bid them scorn it as a “heathen abomination,” it is the clear duty of those whose “souls are lighted with wisdom from on high” to so walk in the light of that wisdom as to hasten the dawning of that glorious new morning when in the sunlight of a larger knowledge of truth the several nations of the earth shall see their way to righteous federation. There can be a fraternity of religious systems, each one purified from the excrescent accretions which have long concealed much, though never the whole of its indwelling excellences. Buddhism makes a brave showing when restored to its original simplicity, and the heroic figure of Guatama stands forth as one who loved all forms of life and found an expression of Divinity in everything. “Cosmic Consciousness” is a favorite phrase with many people to-day, and it is to the life and teachings of the Buddha that we may well turn for a beautiful historical example of it. With the iron rules of Caste a lover of the entire human race can have no sympathy, especially when such rules are applied to serve the ends of oppression and result in ignoring individual worth, while slavishly bowing before inherited position. It was the special glory of Gautama that he taught his country people the essential truths contained in their beautiful historic Vedas, which are full of exquisite spiritual teaching, fundamentally at variance with the religious tyranny established in India against which the Buddha's most vigorous protest was made. We may sum up the essential teachings of the purest forms of Buddhism in two splendid words — Philanthropy and Purity — the same two majestic substantives which Canon Hensley Henson of Westminster employed in a noble sermon which he preached on Trinity Sunday, 1907, in St. Margaret's, Westminster, when he summarised the essentials of universal religion in exposition of the famous text from the Epistle of James, “Pure religion and undefiled before God and the Father is this: To visit the fatherless and widows in their affliction, and to keep himself unspotted from the world.” Not a hint here of any belief in any dogma as necessary to salvation. But this we are told is a Christian saying. Let it be so; it is also in strict accord with original Buddhism, and may well form a link between sincere and spiritually-minded people adhering to either cult or creed.