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vol. title: vol. period: 1876-1878 pages in vol.: 247 |
< A Second Pilgrimage Around the World: the Southern Route (continued from page 4-170) >
dream! Who does not desire extinction from it—entrance into Nirvana?"
"But," said I, "the soul is immortal—being an emanating spark; a divine principle; a spiritual force!"
"How do you know?" was the calm, meditative remark. It was a stunner. He immediately added, "A certain combination of machinery produces a watch that keeps time; but destroy the combination, break the connection of the wheels, and the motion ceases—the force is gone."
"Granted," said I, "but because 'gone,' because it eludes your grasp, it is not logical to infer the annihilation or the extinction of the force itself. It has simply been transferred."
"Transferred where? or transferred to what?" Another stunner! And before I had gathered up my reply, he added, "You spoke of the thoughts of the soul; do you consider them attributes of the soul?"
"By no means; they are rather the effects of the soul's activities. They may be compared to the sparks resulting from striking steel against flints."
"Let us trace a thought up to the source and see. Now," said he, "think—think this portico—think the parts that constitute the portico—think the architect who conceived and constructed the portico—think the motive that induced the architect to think of, conceive and construct the portico—think of the causative cause that prompted the motive, that induced——"
"Hold!" I exclaimed; "the water is getting deep."
These are samples of the reasonings of the "poor, ignorant heathen," that full-fed missionaries are striving to convert over to Orthodox theology.
At this point it is but justice to say that this priest alone, out of the twelve or fifteen with whom I conversed while in Ceylon, took these extreme grounds of materialism, and he believed in a future conscious existence, and the return and re-incarnation of spirits. But far along in the measureless ages, the soul—the all of conscious man—will, so he thinks, return; the body first to its elements, and then the soul to its original principles. Briefly put, he had become enamored with the materialism of what is called "English science."
During this pungent conversation, and while disputing about the persistence of forces and the consciousness and permanency of the soul's forces, this high priest ordered brought and placed before me Dr. Louis Buchner's work on "Force and Matter," which, when done, he turned to a passage confirming his position. These Buddhists have some of the best English works treating of philosophy and the natural sciences. They have translated the works of Bishop Colenso into the Singhalese language. And the Buddhist priest, Mohattiwattey Goonananda, who had the oral discussion at Pantura a while since, with the Rev. David Silva, is literally a terror to the Methodist missionaries of the Island.
"Is Christianity making any headway against Buddhism here in Ceylon?" I inquired.
"It has not produced so much as a ripple upon the great body of Buddhists. The few converts that Christians have made were either from the very lowest classes, or a sort of policy men, who nominally gave adhesion to Christianity to secure clerkships and government employ. The most of these return to Buddhism at death."
After inquiring of me if the different sects of Christians were as envious and jealous of each other in America as in Ceylon, he expressed great surprise that, "considering Christianity was, comparatively, a new religion, that its God was born of a Jewish woman and circumcised, that he was arrested for misdemeanor, convicted and executed, that sacrificial substitution was made a means of salvation rather than individual merit"—I say that this high priest expressed profound surprise that "such a system of religion should have kept afloat so long, and especially in that portion of the world—the West—claiming so much intellectual and religious enlightenment." It is needless to add that I joined him in the surprise.
"But what," I inquired, "is to you Buddhists the most unreasonable and distasteful doctrine connected with western Christianity?" And without a moment's hesitation he replied: "The doctrine of sacrificial substitution; or salvation through atoning blood. To us, not only the life of man but that of the insect is sacred and inviolate. Our first commandment is, 'do not kill.' And then to ask us to believe that the God of all worlds could only save the human race by the killing, or the shedding of the blood of his innocent Son, is to me, and must be in the opinion of any Buddhist, abhorrent if not really blasphemous. Our Saviour, or rather our great exemplar, Gautama Buddha, discovered the path, walked in it, living a holy life, and peacefully died at a good old age under the sacred bo-tree. His constant command was, 'Follow me.' There is but one way to secure salvation—but one way to reach Nirvana—and that is to pursue the path, to keep the law and to treasure up merit."
No savant, no intelligent man will deny that the whole scheme of Buddhism, relating to the final happiness of the human soul, turns upon the pivot of personal merit. Buddhism knows nothing of a crucified Saviour—nothing of atoning blood; but is emphatically, from conception to completion, a system of salvation by works.
"Hinduism, like Christianity, is not a unity. And to say, as certain incoherent writers have, that this or that is the belief of the Hindus, is to talk in a very indefinite, if not in an absolutely idle manner. That there are several contending sects among the Hindus is as well known to scholarly Orientalists as that Brahmans, on peculiar festival occasions, continue to sacrifice kids and other animals. But tell one of the ordinary Krishnaites of India that Krishna was crucified, or tell a Buddhist of Ceylon that Gautama Buddha suffered crucifixion upon a cross, and, wondering at your ignorance, they would possibly correct you; but far more probably they would pity, and pass on. Krishna, according to the very highest testimony, died by an accidental arrow shot by a huntsman, and Arjuna performed the obsequial rites. Gautama Buddha died peacefully at about eighty, under a sal-tree. Accordingly neither of these classes of 'heathen' have any blood-atoning scapegoat for their sins."
After spending a long time in the East, studying the Oriental religions, T. W. Rhys Davids writes thus, in substance, under the heading of "Buddhism in the British Encyclopedia":
"There are four stages, called the paths; and during man's progress in these he successively becomes free from all impure desires, from ignorance, from doubt, from heresy, and from unkindliness and vexation.... Every one's salvation is entirely dependent on the modification or growth of his own inner nature, resulting from his own exertions.... The Brahmans did all they could to put down a faith which inculcated such a spirit of equality within the society of all ranks and castes, and the possibility of salvation without sacrifice or the assistance of the priests.... Salvation as held by the Buddhists depends upon a radical change in man's nature, brought about by his own self-denial and his own self-culture.... After the rainy season Gautama Buddha called together those of his disciples who had devoted themselves to the higher life, and whom, for want of a better name, we may call monks, and said to them, 'Beloved Rahans, I am free from all the passions which, like an immense net, hold men and spirits in their power. You, too, owing to my teachings, enjoy the same glorious privilege. There is now laid on us a great duty—that of working effectually for men and spirits, and gaining for them also the priceless blessing of salvation.'
"Buddhism acknowledges man's sinful nature and enjoins the necessity of subjugating the evil passions. It admonishes him against covetousness and warns him against the cares of a selfish life. It inculcates all the virtues which ennoble <... continues on page 4-172 >