Part 1 (1/2)
The Sympathy of Religions.
by Thomas Wentworth Higginson.
Our true religious life begins when we discover that there is an Inner Light, not infallible but invaluable, which ”lighteth every man that cometh into the world.” Then we have something to steer by; and it is chiefly this, and not an anchor, that we need. The human soul, like any other n.o.ble vessel, was not built to be anch.o.r.ed, but to sail. An anchorage may, indeed, be at times a temporary need, in order to make some special repairs, or to take fresh cargo in; yet the natural destiny of both s.h.i.+p and soul is not the harbor, but the ocean; to cut with even keel the vast and beautiful expanse; to pa.s.s from island on to island of more than Indian balm, or to continents fairer than Columbus won; or, best of all, steering close to the wind, to extract motive power from the greatest obstacles. Men must forget the eternity through which they have yet to sail, when they talk of anchoring here upon this bank and shoal of time. It would be a tragedy to see the s.h.i.+pping of the world whitening the seas no more, and idly riding at anchor in Atlantic ports; but it would be more tragic to see a world of souls fascinated into a fatal repose and renouncing their destiny of motion.
And as with individuals, so with communities. The great historic religions of the world are not so many stranded hulks left to perish.
The best of them are all in motion. All over the world the divine influence moves men. There is a sympathy in religions, and this sympathy is shown alike in their origin, their records, and their progress. Men are ceasing to disbelieve, and learning to believe more.
I have wors.h.i.+ped in an Evangelical church when thousands rose to their feet at the motion of one hand. I have wors.h.i.+ped in a Roman Catholic church when the lifting of one finger broke the motionless mult.i.tude into twinkling motion, till the magic sign was made, and all was still once more. But I never for an instant have supposed that this concentrated moment of devotion was more holy or more beautiful than when one cry from a minaret hushes a Mohammedan city to prayer, or when, at sunset, the low invocation, ”Oh! the gem in the lotus--oh!
the gem in the lotus,” goes murmuring, like the cooing of many doves, across the vast surface of Thibet. True, ”the gem in the lotus” means nothing to us, but it means as much to the angels as ”the Lamb of G.o.d,” for it is a symbol of aspiration.
Every year brings new knowledge of the religions of the world, and every step in knowledge brings out the sympathy between them. They all show the same aim, the same symbols, the same forms, the same weaknesses, the same aspirations. Looking at these points of unity, we might say there is but one religion under many forms, whose essential creed is the Fatherhood of G.o.d, and the Brotherhood of Man,--disguised by corruptions, symbolized by mythologies, enn.o.bled by virtues, degraded by vices, but still the same. Or if, pa.s.sing to a closer a.n.a.lysis, we observe the shades of difference, we shall find in these varying faiths the several instruments which perform what Cudworth calls ”the Symphony of Religions.” And though some may stir like drums, and others soothe like flutes, and others like violins command the whole range of softness and of strength, yet they are all alike instruments, and nothing in any one of them is so wondrous as the great laws of sound which equally control them all.
”Amid so much war and contest and variety of opinion,” said Maximus Tyrius, ”you will find one consenting conviction in every land, that there is one G.o.d, the King and Father of all.” ”G.o.d being one,” said Aristotle, ”only receives various names from the various manifestations we perceive.” ”Sovereign G.o.d,” said Cleanthes, in that sublime prayer which Paul quoted, ”whom men invoke under many names, and who rulest alone, ... it is to thee that all nations should address themselves, for we all are thy children.” So Origen, the Christian Father, frankly says that no man can be blamed for calling G.o.d's name in Egyptian, nor in Scythian, nor in such other language as he best knows.[A]
To say that different races wors.h.i.+p different G.o.ds, is like saying that they are warmed by different suns. The names differ, but the sun is the same, and so is G.o.d. As there is but one source of light and warmth, so there is but one source of religion. To this all nations testify alike. We have yet but a part of our Holy Bible. The time will come when, as in the middle ages, all pious books will be called sacred scriptures, _Scripturae Sacrae_. From the most remote portions of the earth, from the Vedas and the Sagas, from Plato and Zoroaster, Confucius and Mohammed, from the Emperor Marcus Antoninus and the slave Epictetus, from the learned Alexandrians and the ignorant Galla negroes, there will be gathered hymns and prayers and maxims in which every religious soul may unite,--the magnificent liturgy of the human race.
The greatest of modern scholars, Von Humboldt, a.s.serted in middle life and repeated the a.s.sertion in old age, that ”all positive religions contain three distinct parts. First, a code of morals, very fine, and nearly the same in all. Second, a geological dream, and, third, a myth or historical novelette, which last becomes the most important of all.” And though this observation may be somewhat roughly stated, its essential truth is seen when we compare the different religions of the world side by side. With such startling points of similarity, where is the difference? The main difference lies here, that each fills some blank s.p.a.ce in its creed with the name of a different teacher. For instance, the Oriental Pa.r.s.ee wears a fine white garment, bound around him with a certain knot; and whenever this knot is undone, at morning or night, he repeats the four main points of his creed, which are as follows:--
”To believe in one G.o.d, and hope for mercy from him only.”
”To believe in a future state of existence.”
”To do as you would be done by.”
Thus far the Pa.r.s.ee keeps on the universal ground of religion. Then he drops into the language of his sect and adds,--
”To believe in Zoroaster as lawgiver, and to hold his writings sacred.”
The creed thus furnishes a formula for all religions. It might be printed in blank like a circular, leaving only the closing name to be filled in.[B] For Zoroaster read Christ, and you have Christianity; read Buddha, and you have Buddhism; read Mohammed, and you have Mohammedanism. Each of these, in short, is Natural Religion _plus_ an individual name. It is by insisting on that _plus_ that each religion stops short of being universal.
In this religion of the human race, thus variously disguised, we find everywhere the same leading features. The same great doctrines, good or bad,--regeneration, predestination, atonement, the future life, the final judgment, the Divine Reason or Logos, and the Trinity. The same religious inst.i.tutions,--monks, missionaries, priests, and pilgrims.
The same ritual,--prayers, liturgies, sacrifices, sermons, hymns. The same implements,--frankincense, candles, holy water, relics, amulets, votive offerings. The same symbols,--the cross, the ball, the triangle, the serpent, the all-seeing eye, the halo of rays, the tree of life. The same saints, angels, and martyrs. The same holiness attached to particular cities, rivers, and mountains. The same prophecies and miracles,--the dead restored and evil spirits cast out.
The self-same holy days; for Easter and Christmas were kept as spring and autumn festivals, centuries before our era, by Egyptians, Persians, Saxons, Romans. The same artistic designs, since the mother and child stand depicted, not only in the temples of Europe, but in those of Etruria and Arabia, Egypt and Thibet. In ancient Christian art, the evangelists were represented with the same heads of eagles, oxen, and lions, upon which we gaze with amazement in Egyptian tombs.
Nay, the very sects and subdivisions of all historic religions have been the same, and each supplies us with mystic and rationalist, formalist and philanthropist, ascetic and epicurean. The simple fact is, that all these things are as indigenous as gra.s.s and mosses; they spring up in every soil, and only the microscope can tell them apart.
And, as all these inevitably recur, so comes back again and again the idea of incarnation,--the Divine Man. Here, too, all religions sympathize, and, with slight modifications, each is the copy of the other. As in the dim robing-rooms of foreign churches are kept rich stores of sacred vestments, ready to be thrown over every successive generation of priests, so the world has kept in memory the same stately traditions to decorate each new Messiah. He is predicted by prophecy, hailed by sages, born of a virgin, attended by miracle, borne to heaven without tasting death, and with promise of return.
Zoroaster and Confucius have no human father. Osiris is the Son of G.o.d, he is called the Revealer of Life and Light; he first teaches one chosen race; he then goes with his apostles to teach the Gentiles, conquering the world by peace; he is slain by evil powers; after death he descends into h.e.l.l, then rises again, and presides at the last judgment of all mankind: those who call upon his name shall be saved.
Buddha is born of a virgin; his name means the Word, the Logos, but he is known more tenderly as the Saviour of Man; he embarra.s.ses his teachers, when a child, by his understanding and his answers; he is tempted in the wilderness, when older; he goes with his apostles to redeem the world; he abolishes caste and cruelty, and teaches forgiveness; he receives among his followers outcasts whom Pharisaic pride despises, and he only says, ”My law is a law of mercy to all.”
Slain by enemies, he descends into h.e.l.l, rising without tasting death, and still lives to make intercession for man.
These are the recognized properties of religious tradition; the beautiful garments belong not to the individual, but the race. It is the drawback on all human greatness that it makes itself deified. Even of Jesus it was said sincerely by the Platonic philosopher Porphyry, ”That n.o.ble soul, who has ascended into heaven, has by a certain fatality become an occasion of error.” The inequality of gifts is a problem not yet solved, and there is always a craving for some miracle to explain it. Men set up their sublime representatives as so many spiritual athletes, and measure them. ”See, this one is six inches taller; those six inches prove him divine.” But because men surpa.s.s us, or surpa.s.s everybody, shall we hold them separate from the race?
Construct the race as you will, somebody must stand at the head, in virtue as in intellect. Shall we deify Shakespeare? Because we may begin upon his treasury of wisdom almost before we enjoy any other book, and can hold to it longer, and read it all our lives, from those earnest moments when we demand the very core of thought, down to moments of sickness and sadness when nothing else captivates; because we may go the rounds of all literature, and grow surfeited with every other great author, and learn a dozen languages and a score of philosophical systems, and travel the wide world over, and come back to Shakespeare at length, fresh as ever, and begin at the beginning of his infinite meanings once more,--are we therefore to consider him as separated from mortality? Are we to raise him to the heavens, as in the magnificent eulogium of Keats, who heads creation with ”things real, as sun, stars, and pa.s.sages of Shakespeare”? Or are we to erect into a creed the bold words I once heard an enthusiast soberly say, ”that it is impossible to think of Shakespeare as a man”? Or shall we reverently own, that, as man's humility first bids him separate himself from these his great superiors, so his faith and hope bring him back to them and renew the tie. It paralyzes my intellect if I doubt whether Shakespeare was a man; it paralyzes my whole spiritual nature if I doubt whether Jesus was.
Therefore I believe that all religion is natural, all revealed. What faith in humanity springs up, what trust in G.o.d, when one recognizes the sympathy of religions! Every race believes in a Creator and Governor of the world, in whom devout souls recognize a Father also.
Every race believes in immortality. Every race recognizes in its religious precepts the brotherhood of man. The whole gigantic system of caste in Hindostan has grown up in defiance of the Vedas, which are now being invoked to abolish them. The Heetopades of Vishnu Sarman forbid caste. ”Is this one of our tribe or a stranger? is the calculation of the narrow-minded; but, to those of a n.o.ble disposition, the earth itself is but one family.” ”What is religion?”
says elsewhere the same book, and answers, ”Tenderness toward all creatures.” ”He is my beloved of whom mankind are not afraid and who of mankind is not afraid,” says the Bhagvat Geeta. ”Kesava is pleased with him who does good to others, ... who is always desirous of the welfare of all creatures,” says the Vishnu Purana. In Confucius it is written, ”My doctrine is simple and easy to understand;” and his chief disciple adds, ”It consists only in having the heart right and in loving one's neighbor as one's self.” When he was asked, ”Is there one word which may serve as a rule of practice for all one's life?” he answered, ”Is not 'Reciprocity' such a word? What you wish done to yourself, do to others.” By some translators the rule is given in a negative form, in which it is also found in the Jewish Talmud (Rabbi Hillel), ”Do not to another what thou wouldst not he should do to thee; this is the sum of the law.” So Thales, when asked for a rule of life, taught, ”That which thou blamest in another, do not thyself.”
”Thou shalt love thy neighbor as thyself,” said the Hebrew book of Leviticus. Iamblichus tells us that Pythagoras taught ”the love of all to all.” ”To live is not to live for one's self alone, let us help one another,” said the Greek dramatist Menander; and the Roman dramatist Terence, following him, brought down the applause of the whole theatre by the saying, ”I am a man; I count nothing human foreign to me.”
”Give bread to a stranger,” said Quintilian, ”in the name of the universal brotherhood which binds together all men under the common father of nature.” ”What good man will look on any suffering as foreign to himself?” said the Latin satirist Juvenal. ”This sympathy is what distinguishes us from brutes,” he adds. The poet Lucan predicted a time when warlike weapons should be laid aside, and all men love one another. ”Nature has inclined us to love men,” said Cicero, ”and this is the foundation of the law.” He also described his favorite virtue of justice as ”devoting itself wholly to the good of others.” Seneca said, ”We are members of one great body, Nature planted in us a mutual love, and fitted us for a social life. We must consider that we were born for the good of the whole.” ”Love mankind,”
wrote Marcus Antoninus, summing it all up in two words; while the loving soul of Epictetus extended the sphere of mutual affection beyond this earth, holding that ”the universe is but one great city, full of beloved ones, divine and human, by nature endeared to each other.”[C]