India, Its Life and Thought

Christ and Buddha lived their brief lives upon earth many centuries ago; and yet never did they grip so many by the magic of their attraction as they do at present. Nearly two-thirds of the whole population of the world to-day acknowledges the lordship of the one or the other of these and loves to be called by their names. The influence of the one dominates all the life of the West, while that of the other is supreme in the East. And it is a curious and interesting fact that Buddha has not only been exalted as the ninth incarnation of Vishnu in the faith which he aimed to overthrow, he has also been adopted into the Roman Catholic Calendar and is worshipped on the 27th of November as a Christian saint under the title "Saint Josaphat."

I am also convinced that the influence of the lives and teachings of Buddha and Christ will react upon each other with ever increasing power during the coming years. Indeed, we are now witnessing this very influence developing before our eyes.

I

Let us first observe the conditions under which these two lived their earthly lives.

One was born into royal prerogatives and splendour and was surrounded in youth with all the luxuries and blandishments of an Oriental court. The other, though of royal lineage, was born in poverty, cradled in a manger, earned a meagre subsistence as a carpenter, and was able to say at the end of His brief career that the foxes had holes and the birds of the air had nests, but that He had not where to lay His head.

Sidhartthan early married and became a father, but later renounced all the pleasures and responsibilities of a grihastan life. His great renunciation is one of the most striking and impressive acts in the history of mankind, and his subsequent asceticism was of the most thorough and rigid type.

Jesus of Nazareth avoided the entanglements of married life and had a supreme contempt for the wealth and the pomp of the world. Yet He was not an ascetic. So freely did He associate with men, participating even in their festivities, that His enemies falsely charged Him with being a "glutton and a winebibber." He never countenanced the idea that highest sainthood must come through asceticism.

He found His intimates not among the ascetic Essenes, but among householders and men of affairs.

Both these great souls were similarly oppressed by the prevalence and the tyranny of an exclusive ceremonialism. In the one case, it was the innumerable bloody sacrifices and the all-embracing and crushing ritual of the Brahmans which roused the anger and opposition of Gautama; while, on the other hand, the myriad rites, the childish ceremonies, and the hollow religious hypocrisy of the Scribes and Pharisees filled Jesus with hatred and led Him to a denunciation of that whole class. "Woe unto you, Scribes and Pharisees," was the oft-repeated expression of wrath which He heaped upon them.

Thus the religions which both established were, in part, reactions from the religious excesses and errors of the days in which they lived.

It is strange that neither Christ nor Buddha left any writings behind them, even though writing was a known art in their times. Their mighty influence was through oral teaching and example. This was different from the method of other such world-leaders as Moses, Mohammed, and Confucius. It proves that whenever any one has truths of saving power to commit to the world, there are many who, as his messengers, are ready to convey them. Better indeed than to convey one's thoughts by printed page is it to impart them through the living voice to disciples who will thrill the world by the message coloured by their own mind and transfigured by their own enthusiasm. This was the method of Christ and Buddha.

Both were surrounded by an Oriental environment. Their antecedents and their prepossessions were of the East, eastern; and at their births they were introduced to scenes and began to breathe the atmosphere of the Orient. All the great founders of the World Religions were men of the East. This was doubtless because the East kept more closely than the West in touch with deepest religious thought and was animated with highest religious emotions and heavenly aspirations. Certainly the world owes more to ancient Asia for its religious life and spiritual attainments than to all the other continents put together. And Asia is to be thanked, above all, because she gave to mankind the Christ and the Buddha. For the eastern flavour of their messages and the Oriental tints of their life we are deeply grateful. To those of the West, these have always brought quiet restraint and a hallowed, peaceful repose to counteract the hurry and worry of life to which they are so much exposed and which are a part of their very being.

II

The Common Principles which controlled their Lives

Both were men of deepest sincerity. All sham and hypocrisy were foreign to their nature; they held insincerity in any one to be the meanest and most deadly sin. To this intense loyalty to the truth, Jesus bore emphatic testimony by an early martyrdom; while Gautama gave the same unwavering witness by a long and holy life. They both stood in the midst of communities which were rotten with hypocrisy and which were using religion as a sacred garb of duplicity and were raising temples of dishonesty to enraged deity. They stood like prophets in the wilderness and pronounced woe upon all hypocrites.

Moreover, both Christ and Buddha were profoundly ethical in their teaching. They found that humanity was not only rotten with insincerity, it was also deceiving itself with the vain delusion that moral integrity and ethical nobility can be bartered for a multitudinous ceremonial. Men have always been prone to exalt ritual in proportion as they have neglected the eternal demands of conscience and the ethical foundation of character. The myriad-tongued ceremonial of the Brahmans of twenty-five centuries ago was the old evasion of righteousness in human life. Gautama saw this, and his noble soul rebelled against a faith which proclaimed that salvation was a thing of outward religious forms and not of the heart within.

These were the words with which he enunciated his new principles and carried forward his campaign of reaction against the faith of his fathers. Nothing less than, or apart from, purity of the soul within satisfied his requirement.

Indeed, he exalted so much the more highly this banner of heart purity and holiness, the less he had to say of the spiritual claims upon the soul. He had tried elaborate ceremonial and had found it wanting; he had practised the most severe religious austerities, but they had availed him little. In the quiet light which had dawned upon him under the sacred Boh tree he found that nothing wrought so mightily and beneficently as Dharma, or righteousness.

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"Let no man think lightly of sin, saying in his heart, 'It cannot overtake me.'"

These are only a few of the many noble ethical deliverances of this great man's creed.

And during all his life, subsequent to the great renunciation, he embodied in himself the ethical beauty of all that he had taught.

And what shall I say of Jesus, the Christ? In the noble integrity of His heart, in the sublime ethical ideals which He ever exalted, in the moral rectitude which He practised and enjoined upon all His followers, who was like unto Him? In His day, also, men had forgotten the true foundation of character; and the religious leaders of the people were placing supreme emphasis upon human traditions and upon man-made rites as the way of salvation.

They "tithed the mint and the cummin" and forgot the weightier matters of the law. To eat with unwashed hands, to consort with a Samaritan, to carry a load or raise a sheep from the ditch on the Sabbath,—this was a sin which, to the Pharisees, would weigh a man down to hell itself; while to lie or to use other foul language, or to trample under foot the whole decalogue was, by comparison, a venial offence. The whole moral code was rendered impotent by them, while ceremonial cleansing was the be-all and end-all of their system. Christ was daily thrown into conflict with these "blind leaders of the blind"; His soul abhorred their whole religious system. He characterized them as "whited sepulchres." He showed that it is the heart which defiles a man, "for out of the heart proceed evil thoughts, murders, adulteries, fornications, thefts, false witness, blasphemies." "Blessed," says He, "are the pure in heart, for they shall see God." "It was said to them of old thou shalt not kill;" but Christ equally prohibited anger, the cause of murder. He not only denounced adultery, but the lustful look which is the source of adultery.

To His followers He said "unless your righteousness exceed the righteousness of the Scribes and Pharisees ye shall not enter into the kingdom of heaven." He prayed the Father that He would sanctify His own, and added that for their sakes He sanctified Himself. Holiness was a passion with Him, and at the basis of His teaching He enjoined moral cleanness and ethical integrity. And His life in this, as in other things, was a perfect exhibition of the virtues which He taught. And from that day to this His precept and example have mutually supported each other. In Him were wedded faith and conscience, piety and character. So that, where Christ is best known and most loyally followed to-day, there do we find a perfect sense of human relations and a supreme desire after ethical perfection.

Furthermore, these two great souls were consumed with a broad and universal charity. Their environment was perhaps the most averse to general benevolence that the world could then show. In India, there had already grown to great power the caste system with its multiplying ramifications. Then, as now, it narrowed the sympathies of men, it arrayed one class against another, it cultivated pride and fostered mutual distrust and dissension.

When Sakya Muni came upon the scene, he saw the terribly divisive system sending down its root like the banyan tree on all sides and absorbing the life and thought of the people. It repelled him, and, with all his mighty intellectual and moral energy, he attacked it. He proclaimed all men brothers and worthy of human sympathy, love, and respect. He opened the door of his faith to all classes on equal terms. He vehemently opposed every effort to divide men except upon the ground of character. He enjoined upon his disciples not only love and kindness to all men, he also insisted upon a similar attitude toward all forms of lower life.

The fact that Buddhism is to-day one of the three great Missionary Faiths of the world, seeking all men that are in darkness, is the best proof that the founder of that faith had a heart which embraced the whole realm of life in its love. He felt that no man, however humble or however far removed in ties of race and kinship, should be deprived of the blessings of his love and sympathy. It is an interesting fact that nearly all past religious reformers in India—both those inside and outside the pale of Brahmanism—were anti-caste in their sympathies and teaching. But it is only Buddha who consistently maintained the broad foundation of a universal brotherhood and incorporated it into his faith as a cardinal principle.

In like manner, Jesus of Nazareth lived His earthly life at a time of narrow sympathies, and with people who were among the most exclusive that ever lived on earth. The Jews believed themselves to be the specially favoured sons of Heaven. And, what was more, they thought that they were exalted because they were worthy, because they excelled all other people. Hence, they stood aloof from other nationalities and despised them as their inferiors, a social and physical contact with whom would be pollution. There is in many respects a strange correspondence between the Jewish social code of twenty centuries ago and that of Hinduism to-day—the same haughty mien and abjectness of spirit—the aloofness of pride and the cringing meanness of social bondage—representing the two extremes of society. Christ also turned His face like a flint against this mean artificial classification of men. He had a burning contempt for the proud Pharisee who lived upon the husks of his own contempt of others, and who trampled under foot men that were infinitely superior to himself, so far as character was concerned. But He consorted often with the outcast Publican who revealed an aspiration after better things. And He even chose men who were thus socially ostracized to enter His own inner circle of disciples and to be the standard-bearers of His cause upon earth. He taught that the most abject and socially submerged man upon earth is a son of God, and that at his moral and spiritual renovation there would be joy among the denizens of heaven. And it was while thinking of this same class that He said unto His own, in describing the judgment scene at the last great day, "Come, ye blessed of my father, inasmuch as ye have treated kindly and lovingly one of the least of my brethren ye have done it unto me, enter ye into the joy of your Lord." Though He was born a Jew, He opened wide the portals of His religion and invited all men of all conditions. "Come unto me, all ye that are weary and heavy laden, and I will give you rest." He sent forth His followers into all lands to disciple and bring to the truth all nations. And in all lands His method of procedure has been to reach first the lowest among the people and then gradually to rise to the highest, until He has taken possession of the whole land. His universal heart of love took in all men of all social strata. All that He asked was that men should come to Him with purpose sincere and with a longing for light and truth.

III

The Principles and Teachings which differentiate and separate Christ and Buddha

Thus far we have seen these two great leaders of men standing side by side and revealing the same traits and principles.

But they also revealed fundamental differences which it were well for us to consider.

Though much united them, and that when more than five centuries and thousands of miles held them apart, we also discover that a gulf wider than that of time or space opened between them.

Their lives and their doctrines and the faiths which they promulgated reveal strangely diverse contentions and tendencies.

(1) First of all, and at the root of all, lies their attitude toward the Divine Being. Jesus was preëminently a God-intoxicated Being, while the most manifest mental attitude of Gautama was his agnosticism. Christ never ceased speaking of and communing with His Father in heaven. He was wont to retire regularly from human society in order that He might enjoy the Heavenly Presence whose very radiance shone in and upon Him daily. He declared that He did nothing without consulting with and receiving direction from God. And this was natural enough when we remember His declaration that He came into the world to reveal the Father unto men. Listen to His words, "My meat is to do the will of Him that sent me and to finish His work." "The Father that dwelleth in me doeth the work." "The Father is glorified in the Son." "I love the Father and go unto Him." "Believest thou not that I am in the Father and the Father in me?" "Oh, righteous Father, the world hath not known Thee, but I have known Thee." In all His expressions of oneness with God, of His living unto God, and of His drawing His daily strength from God, His experience was eminently unique. He lived more in heaven than on earth in those days of His incarnation. Apart from any consideration of His Divinity, He can truly be said to be a man of God whose soul was in harmony with the Father.

How different the words and experiences of Gautama Rishi! Many have spoken of him as an atheist. I do not believe that he denied the existence of God. Yet it is evidently true that he has no use in his philosophy, any more than in his religion, for a Divine Being. There was doubtless reason for this in the conditions of his time; for it may be regarded as the reaction of a strong mind against the extreme spiritualism and polytheism of the day. For, in those days, the deep spirituality of the Brahman had overflowed its banks and had created a multitudinous pantheon which repelled this man of stern mind. It was to him only a short step from a disbelief in the many gods to a doubt as to the existence of any god. And in this agnosticism he was doubtless aided by his fondness for the Sankya school of thought, which is Indian Agnosticism. In any case, his deliverances and his established religion, if such it really can be called, are such a reaction from the Theosophy of India as to lead one to wonder how, even with all its other excellences, it could have become in India a State Religion for any length of time. A religion without a God, a sacrifice, a priest, or a prayer, is certainly a dreary wilderness to a God-seeking soul. And yet, this is what the Buddha conceived and promulgated among his disciples. Under the stress of a growing consciousness of the ills of this life his mind did not, like that of others, rise to heaven for relief; but his salvation was to be a self-wrought one. With his own right arm of virtue he wished to carve his way into eternal life—or, shall I say, eternal death? Is it strange that under such a godless religious system its votaries should react from this fundamental error and deify and worship that very Buddha who had not a place for God in his whole scheme of life?

At any rate, Christ and Buddha stand before us in striking contrast in this matter; the glory of the teaching of the one was that He caused His adoring disciple to fall upon his knees with uplifted eye and to say in filial reverence and trust, "Our Father who art in heaven." While the other taught his followers to lean only upon self, and to seek speedy relief from life itself, declaring that heaven returned only an empty, mocking echo to the helpless wail of the human soul.

(2) Corresponding to this difference was another difference in their conception of human life. Jesus maintained that the human soul came from God, was made for God, and that God Himself was forever seeking to bring it unto Himself. According to His theory of life, man is not left alone at any stage in his career. He may decline to entertain God in his life. He may lead a life of rebellion against his Maker and Saviour; he may even deny the very existence of the Father of his being. But God, in the riches of His infinite patience, does not desert him to his own base thought and life. He follows him like a shepherd searching for his lost sheep. He longs for his return like a tender, forgiving father for the return of his prodigal son. Human life, according to this view, may be mean and sordid and may be spent in the grossest sin; but there is hope. All is not lost while there is a spark of life left. God is still seeking and trying to bring the soul to new life. The million agents of His loving will conspire to help man; and so the possibilities of his life are still great. Thus, to our Lord Christ, the vision of human life was a bright and optimistic one. God will not leave man to himself. He will bring all the resources of heaven and of earth to the work of saving him. "God is in His heaven, All's right with the world." Yes, all is hopeful for man because the Father is still seeking him.

How different from this was Gautama Rishi's view of human life. According to him, man is a lone, helpless creature tossed on the sea of destiny. He is the only captain and steersman of his barque, and his own reason is his only compass; he must battle alone with the waves of circumstances and find for himself the unknown harbour of peace. There is no heaven above to hear his cry, no help or redemption outside of self. Is it a wonder that life is a weariness, and existence itself an unspeakable burden to such a man?

Thus the Buddha sought in vain for light and cheer in life, and pessimism became to him, as it continues to be to his followers, the very atmosphere of life. Even as in Dante's vision of the Inferno, so in the Temple of Buddha's scheme of life there is inscribed above its portals the words: "Abandon hope all ye who enter here."

I care not who the man may be, I humbly maintain that his scheme of life is seriously wrong if it be a cheerless, uninspiring one; and it is perfectly natural that men should prefer to follow a confident, buoyant leader rather than a heartless, despondent one. If God rules over the destinies of man, we have a right to expect that success and blessing will crown the efforts of the sincere seeker after a better life. Man has received life not that he may destroy it, but that he may cultivate it and find in it life abundant.

A young mother whose child had died carried the dead body to Buddha, and, doing homage to him, said, "Lord and Master, do you know any medicine that will be good for my child?" "Yes," said the teacher, "I know of some. Get me a handful of mustard seed." But when the poor girl was hurrying away to procure it, he added, "I require mustard seed from a house where no son, husband, parent, or slave has died." "Very good," said the girl, and went to ask for it, carrying still the dead child astride on her hip. The people said, "Here is mustard seed;" but when she asked, "Has there died a son, a husband, a parent, or a slave in this house?" they replied: "Lady, what is this that you ask? The living are few, but the dead are many!" Then she went to other homes, but one said, "I have lost my son;" another, "I have lost my parents;" another, "I have lost my slave." At last, not being able to find a single house where no one had died, she began to think, "This is a heavy task that I am on." And as her mind cleared she summoned up her resolution, left the dead child in a house, and returned to Buddha. "Have you procured the mustard seed?" he asked. "I have not," she replied. "The people of the village told me, 'The living are few, but the dead are many.'" Then Buddha said, "You thought you alone had lost a son; the law of death is that among all living creatures there is no permanence." Little comfort in these words!

Of course, we can see how these two conflicting views of life found acceptance and expression in these two great leaders of mankind. For, to Jesus, the keyword of life was divine grace or atonement, while to Gautama it was Karma—that word which has for so many centuries been to all India the truest expression of its philosophy and of its life.

Christ taught that the grace of God was at the service of every man for his success in this life and for his redemption in the world to come. He ever emphasized the inspiring message that God's work and man's effort constitute the warp and woof of the life of every man. In His whole scheme of salvation there is no place for discouragement; for, walking through the path of life hand in hand with God, man can overthrow every enemy to his progress and achieve the best and highest in God's purposes for him.

But when the Buddha adopted the doctrine of Karma as the foundation of life, he and his system were doomed to despondency, gloom, and discouragement. It is indeed a noble truth that every man must drink, to its last dregs, the fruit of his own action—that the law of Karma works with relentless force in every life in the world. Only let us understand that God may enter into each life to enable man to face successfully that law, and it is all right. But condemn man to everlasting isolation; cut away from him every ray of Divine help, and the working out of his Karma becomes a terrible and an almost unending tragedy—a Sisyphean task with no hope of release save in the wiping out of life itself. And this is what the great Soul of the East believed and taught. He faced boldly the problem. He had, at the beginning, ignored the very existence of God, and thus denied himself the least hope of external aid in his own emancipation; and thus he held that stern, cruel, relentless Karma became the all-controlling and universal law of life.

To a Christian, among the most pathetic words ever spoken are those spoken by Buddha to his beloved cousin and disciple as death drew near—"O! Anantha,... My journey is drawing to its close. I have reached eighty years, and just as a worn-out cart can only with much care be made to move along, so my body can only be kept going with difficulty.... In future be ye to yourselves your own light, your own refuge; seek no other refuge.... Look not to any one but yourselves as a refuge."

And that which farther, and very naturally, widens the gulf which separates them is their view of the adequacy or inadequacy of the present human life to satisfy the laws of their being.

The law which Jesus believed to prevail, and which He constantly promulgated and emphasized, was that of the finality of the human life—that man has once only to pass through this earthly life and that then comes death, which introduces him to an eternal future corresponding with the character of his choices and life on earth. According to Him, this brief earthly existence, which will not be repeated, is a training school for the glorious life beyond. Blessed is he who faithfully submits himself to this training and passes through the gate of death prepared for an immortality of joy in God's presence beyond.

Indeed, Jesus never gives the first intimation of any future birth or life, save that which would be permanent and eternal in heaven or hell.

He felt the adequacy of this life as a determiner of the eternal destiny of all men. And He felt that the salvation which He wrought and offered to all was able to carry man through the single portal of death into unending bliss. Why another entrance into this world, if by passing through the world God could bring into the life the seed and power of His own grace and life which would blossom and bear fruit in the soul throughout eternity? "Marvel not," He sayeth, "the hour cometh in which all that are dead shall hear his voice and shall come forth; they that have done good into the resurrection of life; and they that have done evil into the resurrection of judgment." And as He described the final judgment upon all men after one earthly life He says that "these shall go away into eternal punishment, but the righteous into eternal life." Moreover, in describing the condition of the dead He makes the faithful Abraham say to the soul of a dead sinner, "Between us and you there is a great gulf fixed that they who would pass hence to you may not be able to pass and that you may not cross from thence to us." That is, He claimed that the life which we live here so fixes the destiny of men that eternity will carry its impress. Hence the urgency and the supreme importance of this one life to all men. The universal succession, according to His teaching, is life, death, resurrection, judgment, and eternal reward.

To the Buddha, who, as we have seen, held that man is the only architect of his own destiny and that he must therefore abide the working of his Karma, a single brief apprenticeship in the school of life seemed altogether inadequate as a test of character and as a reliable foundation for the edifice of one's eternal destiny, or as a basis for the one irrevocable judgment. It is but natural, therefore, that this great Indian Rishi should have adopted as his own the doctrine of metempsychosis, or transmigration, and that he should add great emphasis to it. To him, life was a penitentiary rather than a school, a place, or an occasion, for eating the fruits of past action rather than a training for the future eternity which awaits every one.

It is true that Gautama must have had some idea of the corrective influence and disciplinary character of this earthly existence; for there is a quiet assumption that in some unexplained and unintelligible way the soul is improved by this multitudinous process of reincarnation. And yet I fail to see any reason for expecting such a development. Philosophically and morally, the raison d'être of the doctrine of reincarnation is to explain the inequalities of life; and it does it not, as Jesus would do it, by means of the doctrine of heredity, but by the retributive power of Karma, or actions pursuing the soul through successive births and compelling it to reveal by its conditions and reflect by its experiences in each birth the experiences of the previous birth. The moral influence of such a doctrine is rendered all but impossible by the fact that there is no consciousness (the true basis of moral continuity) to connect one birth with another. I know of no one but Mrs. Besant who claims to know what his previous, assumed birth was, and I have not yet met any one who believes her claim in this matter. There is no moral discipline for one in his being punished for a thing of which he has absolutely no conscious knowledge.

We must further consider the character of Gautama's philosophy. It was, as is well known, thoroughly materialistic—the antipodes of the orthodox Hindu philosophy, which is highly spiritual. To Buddha, there was no such thing as a soul apart from the body. What was there, then, to connect one birth with another, according to his teaching? In Brahmanism the doctrine of transmigration is at this point very clear, for there is the eternal Âtma, or self, to connect and unify all its incarnations. But Gautama, who denied the separate existence of the soul, maintained that it was not the self, but the Karma, which passed from one birth to another; and thus there became the oneness of Karma without an identity of soul passing through and uniting the myriad incarnations of the person involved. How can one substitute here a sameness of Karma for identity of soul? Behold, then, the insuperable difficulties which such a materialism interposes to a belief either in the possibility or in the wisdom of the doctrine of reincarnation.

And yet let it be remembered here that so long as one accepts the doctrine of Karma he cannot evade the sister doctrine of reincarnation. They belong to the same system, and must be accepted or rejected together.

If, however, we emphasize divine grace as an element in the solution of human problems and in the salvation of man, then it is natural to conclude that one earthly life will suffice for God and man together to prepare the soul for the consummation and beatification which awaits it beyond death. But if the whole problem is to be solved and the whole work of redemption achieved by man himself, apart from God, then Buddha must have been justified in believing that an inconceivable number of births and human lives are necessary in order to accomplish this.

It was just at this point that Christ and Buddha faced the opposite poles. And it is just here, for this very reason, that the faiths which they promulgated represent, the one the perpetual buoyancy and cheer of youth, and the other the weariness of discouraged age.

Christianity claims to do its work for the soul, so far as settling its destiny is concerned, in the brief life of a few years; and under the inspiring influence of this conviction the pulse quickens, youthful hope and energy multiply, and the whole soul is kindled by a close vision of its speedy triumph and release. The Buddhist, on the other hand, knows that it is a long, lonely conflict—the interminably long processions of births weary him and the dim vision of a release which is far away brings no inspiration. Life palls upon him, courage fails him, his steps grow shorter and his pace slackens.

(3) This brings us to the ideals which these two world-leaders entertained. Often men's ideals are a better revelation of their life and character than are their achievements. These ideals which I wish to point out are two—that of inner attainment and that of final consummation.

And what was the chief ambition for personal achievement sought by Jesus and Gautama? I believe that the very names which they acquired and which are at the head of this chapter answer this question for us. "Christ" and "Buddha" are not the personal names given in infancy, nor are they tribal designations. They primarily represent their official titles. "Christ" means "the Anointed One," and "Buddha" signifies "the Enlightened One"—the one is a term expressive of spiritual powers for service, while the other means intellectual enlightenment for communion. One sought and found the baptism of the spirit of God which touched and transfigured His character; the other was seeking more light on the problems of life; and for that light he sought with a wonderful longing and perseverance until the dawn broke on that remarkable day under the sacred Boh tree and he found the light and was hence called "the Enlightened One."

Thus, in the Christ-life, the emphasis was upon ethical and spiritual attainment, while, in Buddha, the thing sought was the clear vision and transcendent illumination.

Let me not be misunderstood. There is a sense in which the consecration and the vision are in the same line. It was Christ Himself that said, "This is eternal life, to know Thee the only true God and Jesus Christ whom Thou hast sent." Spiritual knowledge is the pathway to the highest life—it is life itself. It must be, in large part, acquired through spiritual experience.

At the same time, it is an interesting fact that Buddha laid, as India has always laid, emphasis—undue emphasis—upon knowledge as the consummation to be sought. Brahma Gnana is the summun bonum of life. To rightly know myself in my relationship, this, they say, is the only qualification for beatification. On the other hand, Jesus insisted always upon a right moral and spiritual attitude and relationship to God as the highest point of human attainment in life. Listen to the beatitudes which he uttered: "Blessed are the poor in spirit; for theirs is the kingdom of heaven. Blessed are they that mourn; for they shall be comforted. Blessed are the meek; for they shall inherit the earth. Blessed are they that hunger and thirst after righteousness; for they shall be filled. Blessed are the merciful; for they shall obtain mercy. Blessed are the pure in heart; for they shall see God. Blessed are the peacemakers; for they shall be called sons of God. Blessed are they that have been persecuted for righteousness' sake; for theirs is the kingdom of heaven."

These are the beatitudes of His Kingdom, and all refer to the spiritual graces which He Himself exemplified and inculcated, and none refer to enlightenment.

Thus in both we have, if not a contrast, a different outlook, which has not only impressed the student with a sense of divergence; but that which is more important—it has given to the devotees of these two faiths widely different aspirations, and has given to the two types of lives produced very dissimilar traits.

But, that which is of more consequence, in these ideals, is their conception of what life tends to and must ultimately attain unto. The final consummation of life meant nought else to Jesus than God-likeness, which He called "Eternal Life." To have grown to the perfection of those moral and spiritual characteristics which adorn God Himself; to have the human will so subdued and directed until it runs parallel with the Divine will; to have the soul consumed with a love of all that He loves and with an abhorrence of all that He hates,—this is life indeed and the highest realization of the human soul. Yea, more, to pass out of this life into the conscious bliss and eternal felicity of the life to come, to dwell with God—one with Him in purpose and character, and yet living a separate conscious existence, basking in the eternal sunshine of His Presence and favour,—this is the fulness of blessing which Christ presented before His own as the end to be sought and the consummation which God placed within their reach.

On the other hand, Nirvana is the word which holds condensed the whole realm of Buddha's ideals. It is not my purpose to discuss the original meaning of this word. I gladly concede that it meant a state of moral achievement when the powers of the soul were at equilibrium and when resultant peace pervaded the life. But we also know that it meant, preëminently, that state in which the soul had passed beyond contact with body, in which contact alone it found consciousness and sensation and human activity; when the soul, freed from births, had returned to its elemental condition of semi-nothingness, with neither thought, emotion, nor volition. This was a condition in which was found only the negative blessing of release from the turbulence and surging distresses of life. Without calling it non-existence, we claim that it is wanting in every element that we connect, or can conceive connected, with human existence.

There is nothing in it to inspire hope nor to invite cheer. All we can do in its presence is to ask—is this all that man, the flower of God's universe, is to arrive at? Is there nothing better for him than to end his long, dreary existence in such an abject failure? Must he descend from the plain of even a wretched human life to this the lowest reach of existence, if such we must call it?

In the eyes of Christ, there issues out of the mighty conflict of life a purified, glorified human being fit to dwell forever in the presence of His Father and adopted to enjoy that presence for evermore. To Buddha, this same human life ends in failure and must rest forever under the dark pall of oblivion, and robbed by Nirvana of all the possibilities of good and of joy that were implanted in it.

In the absence of higher satisfaction, all that Buddha could do was to glory in his achievements, because of their pervasive influence upon the lives of others during all future time. We might imagine him joining with George Eliot in her noble aspiration:—

But Christ gave us a larger hope and a loftier purpose than this, even the conscious possession of abundant life ourselves and the growing knowledge of the boundless good which our earthly life has done for others. To live in men is joy indeed; but that involves an ability to feel that joy; and this, again, is a part only of the Eternal Life which He gives to all who believe in Him.

It is His disciple only who can say:—

"Beloved, now are we the Sons of God. But we know not what we shall be; but we know that when He shall appear we shall be like Him, for we shall see Him as He is."

CHAPTER XIII

Even in matters of ritual, Brahmanism has always had its protestants, sectarians, and "come-outers." During this stern dominance of the Caste System, which is the most rigorous, if not the most cruel, inquisition that the world has known, there have always been men free to think and determined enough to push forward their ideas and their new religious methods. And these have added picturesque variety to the history of faith in India.

It is, however, a remarkable tribute to the power of caste and to the unheroic character of Hindu reformers, that, of the myriad reforms and protests against Brahmanism which have bristled throughout the centuries, only one—Buddhism—has stood apart in persistent isolation, and has maintained a separate identity and usefulness through more than two millenniums. Of all these protesting creeds, it alone has had sufficient masculine power and moral earnestness permanently to impress itself upon the world as a great religion. It has achieved this, however, not in the land of its birth, but in other lands and among other peoples. Like all other attempts to reform, or overthrow, the mother faith (and even after it had largely accomplished this for ten centuries), Buddhism finally yielded to the mighty absorptive power of Brahmanism, was overthrown as the dominant religion of India, and lost all power and acceptance among the people. This was because most of its vital teachings were appropriated by the rival faith, and Buddha himself was adopted into the Hindu pantheon as the ninth incarnation of Vishnu. Henceforward, it had no distinctive mission or message to the people of this land, and died a natural death.

The well-known passion of Hinduism for absorbing the faiths that come into contact with it, and the maudlin tendency of the people of India to yield to pressure and to sacrifice all in behalf of peace, has been the grave of many a noble endeavour and many an impassioned attempt for new religious life and power.

Nevertheless, there is no reform movement which has entered the arena of religious conflict in India, whether it still remains entirely within the Hindu faith or has possessed vigour and repulsive energy enough to step outside the ancestral faith, which has not left more or less of an impress upon Hinduism, and which does not to-day exercise some power or other over certain classes of the people.

I

All of the many modern sects of Hinduism were originally protests against the dominant Brahmanism of the day. The most popular Vaishnava sect, in South India,—the Visishdadvaitha sect of Ramanuja,—was first a vigorous protest against the austere pantheism of Sankaran. It was the demand of a thoughtful and an earnest religious man for a personal God which could bring peace and rest to the soul, in contradistinction to the unknowable, unethical, and unapproachable Brâhm, which the dominant Vedantism had thrust upon the people.

The Madhwachariars went one step farther and inculcated a dualism, which many to-day accept as the basis of their faith.

In the region of Bengal, that other sect of Vaishnavism, which was inculcated by Chaitanya four centuries ago, is to-day the popular cult. It is a revivalism full of wild enthusiasm and ecstatic devotion; yet it attracts, in a remarkable way, many of the men of culture and learning throughout that Presidency.

The Saivite sectarians, who call themselves Sangamars, were, a few centuries ago, a mere uprising against the supremacy of the Brahmans and the dominance of caste.

Indeed, nearly all religious reformers in India propelled their reforms as anti-caste movements. But, later on, they have, with very few exceptions, been drawn again into the maelstrom of caste.

The Sikh religion, itself, was originally a religious reform, which found its germs in the mind of the great Kabir, and afterward attained birth in the brave reformer, Nanak Shah, during the fifteenth century. It is a shrewd, an amiable, and also a brave attempt to harmonize Mohammedanism and Hinduism. At the present time, this also is gradually yielding to caste dominance and to the fascination of Hindu ritual.

Thus every century has produced its reformers, and the banks of this great river of Brahmanism is strewn with the wrecks of protesting sects, while many other such barques are to-day adopted as the faithful messengers of orthodox Hinduism and are carrying its message to the people.

II

Modern movements of religious reform in India have not been wanting in number or vigour. And they have been largely movements away from Polytheism, on the one hand, and from Pantheism on the other, toward a modern Theism. Many intelligent men, and many uneducated, but earnest souls, have grown weary of their multitudinous pantheon, and of its hydra-headed idolatry, which charms and debases the masses. In like manner, many of them have ceased to be satisfied with the unknown Brâhm of Vedantism, and are seeking after a personal Deity, who can meet the demands of their craving hearts.

There is much of this thought and sentiment still inarticulate among the upper classes; but it is manifestly growing with the increase of the years.

This theistic movement, as a growing search after a personal God, is to be traced definitely to the growth of western thought, and especially to the direct influence of Christianity. This is no less true of those theistic movements which are by no means amiably disposed toward our religion.

The modern theistic movement first found definite expression and impetus in the life and teaching of that noble son of India, Ram Mohan Roy, who hailed from the Brahmanic aristocracy of Bengal. He was born in 1774—just before the birth of American Independence. He studied well the ancient writings of Hinduism and translated some of the most important into English. He also searched eagerly and enthusiastically the Christian Scriptures; for which purpose he made himself familiar with the Greek and Hebrew languages. So mightily did the New Testament and its precepts grip him that he wrote and published, in 1819, an excellent tract, "The Precepts of Jesus the Guide to Peace and Happiness." This is a remarkable testimony to the ethical preëminence of the Bible. He later declared that he "believed in the truths of the Christian religion."

Being unwilling to abide alone in this discovery and in these convictions, he established, in 1815, the "Atmâ Sabhâ," or "Soul Society," in his own home. This soon developed into a small church, for which a suitable edifice was erected, that they might worship the one God free from the contaminating influence of popular idolatry and Hindu ceremonial.

This truly great man, without the aid of any European missionary, in the quiet solitude of his own heart, and under the influence of the Spirit of God, rose to some of the highest truths of Theism, and, under the mighty influence of Christian literature, became a reformer of the first order among his people.

But, during a visit to England he sickened, and died in 1833; and the theistic movement weakened and waned for a few years, deprived of his leadership and inspiring presence.

It was in 1843 that the Brahmo Somaj of Ram Mohan Roy was united with another Sabha organized by another great soul, Debendra Nath Tagore. Under the guidance of this sturdy reformer, the Brahmo Somaj movement put on new life and energy. Debendra Nath was very devout and courageous. He was opposed to the religion of his fathers, as practised by the people. Nevertheless, he was somewhat anchored to the past. He still clung to the Hindu scriptures and regarded the Vedas as infallible. Later, however, as these Hindu writings were studied with more care, his faith in them was considerably shattered, and he began to deny their supreme authority.

He and the other members of the society here entered upon a great struggle which ushered them into an "Age of Reason." The Vedas were abandoned as an ultimate authority, and the Brahmo Somaj, for a time, became "a Church without a Bible," and without any anchorage but the higher reason of its members.

In 1852, the society was reorganized. Reason was soon found to be inadequate as the foundation of faith; and they passed on to an intuitional basis. That again seemed to be even more unsatisfactory than reason itself. After a few years, the movement gradually developed a doctrine of inspiration, when the utterances of the leaders themselves were regarded as inspired and became the voice of God to the members. Thus, within a few years, Brahmo Somaj moved almost in a circle, in its search for a stable anchorage to its faith; and it returned to a point dangerously near to the Hindu position which it had left a few years before.

The rapid movement above indicated was chiefly owing to an ardent youth, who rallied to the support of Debendra Nath, and who gradually took the reins into his own hands. This young man was Keshub Chunder Sen; and he soon became the leading figure, certainly the most striking, in the whole theistic movement of India. He acquired growing influence over Debendra Nath, became the controlling spirit, and continued until his death to be the central figure of Theism in India.

Chunder Sen was a great enthusiast, full of intellectual resource, and, withal, a man of deep spirituality. He was an Oriental of the Orientals; his mind was of a thoroughly mystic type, and, like the devout Hindu, he loved the rigours of asceticism, and, in not a few instances, yielded to the fascinations of the methods of the Yogi.

He was a restless soul. Hinduism had so much that was repulsive to him; and he felt that polytheism and idolatry had so crushed out of his people all the beauty of a living faith that he longed to hasten communication of his message of truth and of life the new and glorious day of Theism for India. His pace was so much faster than that of Debendra Nath that it took but a few years to make their separation a necessity. This took place in 1865. Thereupon, the old society became known as the "Âthi Somaj,"—"The Original Somaj,"—while Sen and his party formed a new organization, which was pretentiously known as "The Brahmo Somaj of India." This happened in 1866.

The old society settled down into inactivity, lost much of its spirit of reform, and has never since accomplished much in the realm of theistic advance.

The new Somaj, however, soon acquired prominence and became the life and embodiment of the Indian theistic movement.

But Chunder Sen had his serious dangers; and those lay in the very excess of his virtues.

Hurried on by his intense nature, exalted to power by his brilliant intellectual qualities, and yearning with a passion for the release of his beloved India from the religious and spiritual thraldom which he witnessed all about him, he acquired irresistible charm and power with his followers, and his words became their undisputed law; and his deliverances were surcharged with what they regarded as divine inspiration. And there is no doubt that he soon came to believe himself to be a direct vehicle of God in the communication of his message of truth and of life to the world.

Under the influence of this conviction or delusion (whichever one may choose to call it), he was swept on, and carried with him most of his followers, into startling novelties of ritual and of organization.

Finally, however, he became so extreme and radical that some of his principal followers became frightened and grew restless. The occasion of another split was found in the marriage of Chunder Sen's daughter to the young Maharaja of Cooch Behar, in 1876. Chunder Sen had worked heroically for the enactment of a new marriage law for the members of the Brahmo Somaj, whereby no bride should be married before fourteen and no bridegroom under eighteen years of age. Yet, in the marriage of his own daughter, he ignored this law, which was passed chiefly through his own energy. Notwithstanding the fact that the leader claimed divine guidance in this affair, his leading followers attributed the marriage to his weakness and pride.

This led to another secession, in May, 1878, whereby the majority of the societies and their members broke away from the Sen party and established the Sâdhârna Somaj—"The Universal Somaj." This schism was a terrible blow to Mr. Sen; and yet it released him from the trammels which the dissatisfied had hitherto thrust upon him, and gave him, among the remnant, an opportunity to launch out on new projects, and to introduce many religious vagaries, which to most men were striking and, to many, were shocking. Under the banner of the "New Dispensation," he practised a varied liturgy and cultivated an unique ceremonial which seemed to be a close imitation, and almost a mockery, of some of the most sacred institutions of Christianity and of other religions.

The schismatic weakness of the theistic movement did not reach its consummation in this last division. It was almost immediately upon the death of Keshub Chunder Sen, at the beginning of 1884, that his immediate family and a few of his followers proclaimed that his spirit still abode in the Mandir, where he so often spoke, and that no one should succeed him or speak from the Mandir hereafter!

Within these few short years a new cult had begun to grow around the person of Chunder Sen, like those around a thousand others well known in the history of India. He became to some of his followers not only a great religious teacher, but also something of an incarnation on his own account, so that it seemed to them blasphemy for any living being to aspire to speak from the pulpit of the beloved dead master.

His natural successor was Babu Protap Chunder Mozumdar. He protested against this apotheosis of the departed leader, and insisted upon the fact that their movement must be open to new light, and must seek after ever increasing progress and advance. But the family were obdurate, and the new split became inevitable; and thus Chunder Sen has passed into the ranks of the Mahatmas of India and will erelong be promoted to a place among the incarnations of their deities.

Mr. Mozumdar was, intellectually, not inferior to Chunder Sen himself; and he was possessed of deep earnestness of spirit and of a beautiful English style (both as a writer and speaker) which commended him and his cause to the public, and especially to English and American Theists. He visited the West more than once, and charmed many an audience of Christian men by his deep sincerity and eloquence.

III

The progress of this Brahmo movement has not been very encouraging.

We have already seen its tendency to schism. There seems very little in the movement which makes for peace and unity. Any little pique or difference of views has not only created internal dissension, but also engendered new sects.

The leaders of the movement have been both able and absolutely devoted to the theistic cause; but they have not revealed the highest qualities of leadership, especially that quality which exalts above the leader himself the principles and the cause which he advocates. Nor have they imparted to the members of the Somaj that altruistic fervour which enables them to deny themselves in behalf of their common cause and purpose.

Numerically, the progress of the Brahmo Somaj has been most disappointing. At the last census there were only 4050 members. And, of these, more than three-quarters were in Bengal.

This, however, by no means represents the strength of the movement; for it is said, with truth, that many who do not register themselves as Brahmos are in deepest accord with the movement. And it must, moreover, be remembered that the influence of the society is far in excess of the numbers represented. For the movement has drawn its membership, almost exclusively, from the upper class; and the majority of Brahmos are men of education and of position in society. Moreover, they joined this movement under the deep conviction of the utter worthlessness of Hinduism as a way of salvation, and with a purpose to seek after that which is best in thought and life.

It is this aristocratic character of the movement which has largely militated against its popularity. Its appeal has been mainly to men and women of English training. It has not been possessed of any passion for the multitude; nor has it adequately appreciated the importance, for its own well-being, of a united endeavour to reach and bring in the man of the street.

Nevertheless, the movement has been thoroughly permeated with an Indian spirit. The leaders have been particular in their desire to exalt and emphasize the Oriental aspect and method, as distinct from the Occidental. This is the reason why it has been so frequently and bitterly criticised. It has been judged by western standards and criticised because it has not squared with western ideals. From time to time missionaries and other Christian men, seeing no reason, from their standpoint, why these Brahmo friends should not come over in a body into the Christian fold, have been impatient with their lack of response. They failed to understand that, with these western principles and admiration, there were also eastern thoughts and prepossessions, and the invaluable inheritance of a past that kept them aloof from the foreign faith and led them frequently to deliver themselves vehemently against its most western manifestations. Even their conception of Christ was a distinctly Oriental one. And they denied that a man of the West could compare with them of the East in the deep appreciation of the Christ-character and in loving attachment to their "Brother" from the East—Jesus of Nazareth.

Yet, the Christian basis of this movement is unmistakable. We have seen how Ram Mohan Roy received a new baptism of thought and life upon studying the Christian Scriptures. It gave a new direction and inspiration to his theistic conceptions.

Chunder Sen found nearly all the inspiration from the Bible; and he lived under the spell of Christ's own power, and with a passion, such as few Christians possess, to follow Him and to be a full partaker of His blessings.

The writer will never forget his own brief visit to Protap Mozumdar, not long before the latter's death. It was on the eve of Good Friday. He found this devout man with eighteen of his disciples (one of them an Oxford graduate) studying together the tender words of our Lord uttered to His disciples in the Upper Room on the night in which He was betrayed. They were thus qualifying themselves properly to commemorate His death on the coming morn. And Mr. Mozumdar gave a strong lecture on "The Suffering Christ" to a large audience in one of the city halls on the morrow. The thought occurred to us, how many Christians had met together that same evening, like these Brahmos, for the purpose of studying our Lord's Words upon that memorable occasion and bringing themselves thus en rapport with Him whose atoning death they were to commemorate? As we parted, it was hardly necessary for that man of God to say to the writer in pathetic tones, "O, sir, I only wish you knew how near we are to you in these matters!" Some may have read that remarkable book, named "The Oriental Christ," written and published by this same gentleman in 1883. In the preface, he gives this strikingly beautiful account of his conversion:—

"Nearly twenty years ago, my troubles, studies, and circumstances forced upon me the question of personal relationship to Christ.... As the sense of sin grew on me, and with it a deep miserable restlessness, a necessity of reconciliation between aspiration and practice, I was mysteriously led to feel a personal affinity to the Spirit of Christ. The whole subject of the life and death of Christ had for me a marvellous sweetness and fascination.... Often discouraged and ridiculed, I persisted in according to Christ a tenderness of honour which arose in my heart unbidden. I prayed, I fasted, at Christmas and Easter times. I secretly hunted the book-shops of Calcutta to gather the so-called likenesses of Christ. I did not know, I cared not to think, whither all this would lead.... About the year 1867 ... I was almost alone in Calcutta. My inward trials and travails had really reached a crisis. It was a week-day evening, I forget the date now. The gloomy and haunted shades of summer evening had suddenly thickened into darkness.... I sat near the large lake in the Hindu College compound.... A sobbing, gusty wind swam over the water's surface.... I was meditating upon the state of my soul, on the cure of all spiritual wretchedness, the brightness and peace unknown to me, which was the lot of God's children. I prayed and besought Heaven. I cried and shed hot tears.... Suddenly it seemed to me, let me own it was revealed to me, that close to me there was a holier, more blessed, most loving personality upon which I must repose my troubled head. Jesus lay discovered in my heart as a strange, human, kindred love, as a repose, a sympathetic consolation, an unpurchased treasure, for which I was freely invited. The response of my nature was unhesitating and immediate. Jesus, from that day, to me became a reality whereon I might lean. It was an impulse then, a flood of light, love, and consolation. It is no longer an impulse now. It is a faith and principle; it is an experience verified by a thousand trials ... a character, a spirit, a holy, sacrificed, exalted self, whom I recognize as the true Son of God. According to my humble light, I have always tried to be faithful to this inspiration. I have been aided, confirmed, encouraged by many, and most of all by one. My aspiration has been not to speculate on Christ, but to be what Jesus tells us all to be.... I shall be content if what I say in these pages at all tends to give completeness to any man's ideas of the life and ministry of Jesus Christ.... In the midst of these crumbling systems of Hindu error and superstition, in the midst of these cold, spectral shadows of transition, secularism, and agnostic doubt, to me Christ has been like the meat and drink of my soul. His influences have woven round me for the last twenty years or more, and, outside the fold of Christianity as I am, have formed a new fold, wherein I find many besides myself."

Chunder Sen also abundantly expressed himself concerning the Christ, His mission, and message. But to him, again, it is an Asiatic Christ; and He must be accepted in a truly Oriental, yes, even in a Hindu, way. He says:—

"It is not the Christ of the Baptists, nor the Christ of the Methodists, but the Christ sent by God, the Christ of love and meekness, of truth and self-sacrifice, whom the world delights to honour. If you say we must renounce our nationality and all the purity and devotion of eastern faith for sectarian and western Christianity, we shall say most emphatically, No. It is our Christ, Asia's Christ, you have come to return to us. The East gratefully and lovingly welcomes back her Christ. But we shall not have your Christianity, which suits not the spirit of the East. Our religion is the religion of harmony."

In further enforcement of this Oriental character he continues:—

"Was not Jesus Christ an Asiatic? Yes, and His disciples were Asiatics, and all the agencies primarily employed for the propagation of the Gospel were Asiatic. In fact, Christianity was founded and developed by Asiatics and in Asia. When I reflect on this, my love for Jesus becomes a hundred fold intensified; I feel Him nearer my heart, and deeper in my national sympathies.... And is it not true that an Asiatic can read the imageries and allegories of the Gospel, and its descriptions of the natural sceneries, of customs and manners, with greater interest and a fuller perception of their force and beauty than an European?... The more this greater fact is pondered, the less, I hope, will be the antipathy and hatred of European Christians against Oriental nationalities, and the greater the interest of the Asiatics in the teachings of Christ. And thus in Christ, Europe and Asia, the East and the West, may learn to find harmony and unity...."

And let it not be supposed that Mr. Sen was altogether wanting in an appreciation of the higher significance and vicarious efficacy of the death of Christ. Concerning this, he observes:—

"Humanity was lost in Adam, but was recovered in Christ. He was the world's atonement....

"His death on the cross affords the highest practical illustration of self-sacrifice. He sacrificed His life for the sake of truth and the benefit of the world. In obedience to the will of His Father, He laid down His life, and said, Thy will be done! And surely there is deeper meaning in the fact than even the orthodox attach to it, that the death of Christ is the life of the world...."

In many of the lectures which he gave, and in many of the articles which he wrote, we have evidence of the wonderful place which Christ had in his heart and of the power which He exercised over his thoughts. He exclaims:—

"Blessed Jesus, immortal Child of God! For the world He lived and died. May the world appreciate Him and follow His precepts!... All through my inner being I see Christ. He is no longer to me a doctrine, or a dogma, but, with Paul, I cry, 'for me to live is Christ!'" On another occasion he says:—

"Where, then, is Christ now? He is living in all Christian lives, and in all Christian influences at work around us.... You cannot resist His influence; you may deny His doctrines, you may even hate and repudiate His name, but He goes straight into your hearts, and leavens your lives."

Other leaders of this movement are imbued with the same spirit. The editor of the New Dispensation remarks:—

"As a matter of fact the Brahmoists have accepted Christian truth in a more special sense than Hindus, or even some Christian sects, have any idea of.... The organization of the Brahmo Somaj of India is framed upon an essentially Christian basis. Its missionary staff is Christian, being guided entirely by the principle of 'Take no thought for the morrow.' In its mission office, mottoes are found upon the walls which are all Christian. Almost every Brahmo household has a picture of Christ. The only Life of Jesus in Bengali is by a missionary of the Brahmo Somaj of India. Its truly evangelistical work, the life and conversation of its members, breathe distinctly the spirit and influence of Christ...."

Another Theist writes:—

"Reverently have I sat at the feet of the Jesus of the Gospels to learn the exalted ethics of the Sermon on the Mount. But Jesus, other than a moral force, the truer and higher Jesus, long remained a sealed book to me. Who could know the veritable Christ of God without light from above?...

"Jesus forms the heart-blood of many a Brahmo.... We are ready to sacrifice anything if only by that we are enabled to love and cherish Jesus in our hearts.... The Brahmo Somaj is born to honour and revere Jesus, whatever the result may be."

From these quotations, which might be multiplied indefinitely, it may be seen that the movement has been, to a considerable extent, under the Christ spell and imbued with much of His Spirit. Inasmuch, however, as the movement is an avowedly eclectic one, the Brahmoist was never willing to rest completely under the Christ influence. He gave to Christ, perhaps, a supreme place, but not a unique position, in his life and thought. Jesus was to him one of many, though perhaps a primus inter pares.

It is this eclectic character of the Brahmo Somaj which has robbed it of much of its power. It may seem, at first, a very fine thing to collect, classify, and codify the best from many religions and dignify them as a religion. But that can never become a unified message of life to any people. It may be ethically immaculate, but it has no vital power. The distinctive, life-giving, and inspiring element of every faith has been eliminated, and only the common, unimpassioned, and uninspiring elements have been retained.