President's Diary

Printed in the Fall 2015  issue of Quest magazine.
Citation: Boyd, Tim. "President’s Diary" Quest 103.4 (Fall 2015): pg. 154-155.

At the end of April I returned to the U.S. from Adyar. My first official duty, which was also a great personal pleasure, was to attend the installation of a friend of many years, Lola Wright, as the spiritual director of the Bodhi Spiritual Center in Chicago. The Bodhi Center is a highly active and inclusive spiritual community whose founders had roots in Theosophical traditions. Over the years it has evolved into an open, service-oriented, conscious community. Its motto is “wherever you are on your spiritual journey, you are welcome here,” and welcome is how one feels.

A couple of days later I was commuting into Chicago for a series of meetings we had planned for over a year. Back in 2014 members of four groups met for three days in Sedona, Arizona — the Theosophical Society in America, Greenheart, the Institute of Noetic Sciences (IONS), and Integral Transformation Practice International (ITPI). All of the groups are active in the consciousness movement. The sense was that there were significant ways in which we could cooperate in our shared works. At that time it became clear that this needed to be an ongoing and growing effort. So this year four more groups were invited to participate. We also decided on a name for the group: Conscious Cooperative (C2).One evening we had a public program for a couple of hundred people that was hosted at the Bodhi Center. It was called “Transformational Leadership” and was sponsored by Greenheart in support of the upcoming IONS annual conference in Chicago. Dean Radin, senior scientist of IONS, IONS president Cassandra Vieten, and I spoke that evening. Cassandra was also one of the featured presenters at our own Summer National Convention in July.

That weekend my wife, Lily, and I drove up to Detroit for our annual session with the Detroit TS. Although I have lost count of how many years I have been visiting the group, I know it has been more than twenty. As always it was a good opportunity to connect with longtime friends and coworkers.

The next weekend in May we hosted Eben Alexander, author of the New York Times number one best-selling book Proof of Heaven. Eben and Karen Newell were with us to do a day-long workshop on “Awakening Consciousness with Sound Meditation.” Since his transformative near-death experience, Eben has been on the leading edge of the consciousness movement, promoting approaches that extend human awareness. (See his Winter 2015 in Quest, Winter 2015.) One avenue he has found productive is the use of sound as a focusing tool for meditation. As expected, the workshop was well-attended. One hundred people came, filling every seat in the auditorium. While introducing Eben, I asked for a show of hands of those who were visiting the TS for the first time. My rough estimate was that around 70 percent of them were first-timers. We have scheduled Eben and Karen to return next year on June 11.

The next weekend was a special and long-anticipated time for me and my family. We were off to Oberlin, Ohio, to be on hand for my daughter, Angelique’s, graduation from college. Family and friends joined us for the occasion. First Lady Michelle Obama was one of the speakers and gave a rousing and inspiring speech to the graduates. Although by now I should be used to it, it still amazes me how fast time runs.

The next journey took me to Italy. When I was there last year, one of the members from Milan invited me to participate in a one-day conference on vegetarianism. It was to be held in connection with Expo 2015, the Universal Expo (World’s Fair) that would be opening in Milan in May 2015. The Expo is a huge event, lasting six months, at which 145 countries have exhibits. Its theme is “Feeding the Planet, Energy for Life.” The organizers felt that this would be a high-profile opportunity to present a Theosophical view. Of course, for me it was a lot of travel for a one-day event. To make the planning work, Italian TS general secretary Antonio Girardi arranged the timing of the Italian Section’s annual meeting to coincide with my visit to Milan. I told Antonio that while I was in Italy I wanted him to schedule me to visit some of the groups. He took me up on it with a flourish. At one point in the tour I was speaking in four different cities in four days. If it’s Tuesday, this must be Milan.

The visit to Italy began in Vicenza, the location of the national headquarters in northern Italy. The Vicenza TS doubles as both a meeting space and the administrative office for the Italian Section. The conference we had at Vicenza took place over three days, with more than a hundred members participating. On the night before the closing, the tradition of having a musical evening continued. As he did last year, Sergio Ferro brought his band, this time for a musical tour of the world accompanied by slides of the cities featured in each song. The evening finished with a lively chorus of the members from Vicenza singing a song dedicated to me and my roots — “New York, New York.” It was a lot of fun.

On the last day I had a meeting with some of the younger members. At our last General Council meeting in December, I had said that when I visit a section, I would like to have a separate meeting with young, or at least younger, members. Ten or twelve bright and energetic young members turned up for a lively discussion of values, interests, and directions for the TS. I talked, but mainly I listened.

The next day we were driven from Vicenza to Trieste by our lovely driver cum translator, Renate Pedevilla. After navigating through some torrential downpours so strong that we had to pull off the road, we arrived in the beautiful seaside city. For the next evening president Diego Fayenz and the TS group had organized a talk at the famous Teatro Verdi in the city center. The hall was gloriously beautiful, with marble floors and columns and crystal chandeliers. The room had been set up with 200 chairs, which ended up almost completely full. More than a hundred of the people attending were nonmembers. There was also a large contingent of members and members-to-be from Slovenia. The border between Italy and Slovenia is just a fifteen-minute drive from Trieste. Over forty Slovenians came.

From Trieste it was on to Udine for an evening meeting with that group. It was a joyful evening, with food, kids mixing in and out, and a chance to connect about things that are meaningful. Then it was back to Vicenza to meet with the local TS group.

The next morning it was a train ride to Milan and the event, “Alimentazione vegetariana: per un futuro sostenibile” (“Vegetarian Nutrition: For a 

Theosophical Society - An artist's conception of the projected covering for the Adyar Theatre.
An artist's conception of the projected covering for the Adyar Theatre.

Sustainable Future”). Like the event in Trieste, this one was held in an ornate and elegant venue. In addition to me, a neurophysician, a journalist, and the head of Italy’s vegetarian society also spoke about the value of the vegetarian diet. I was pleased that more than half of the people attending were nonvegetarian.

From Milan we flew to Adyar. While in India, Lily and I took the Shatabhi express train to Bangalore for a meeting at the Bangalore City Lodge. Much like the Indian Section headquarters in Varanasi, the Bangalore TS is a formidable campus right in the center of town. After a tour and a talk to the 200 members who had gathered, we shared food and conversation outdoors on the grounds. The next day we drove two and a half hours to the town of Gauribidanur in Karnataka for two events — the fiftieth anniversary of the Gauribidanur lodge, and, on the next day, the Karnataka Federation meeting. The lodge celebration drew 400 members. The federation meeting was packed, with 650 attendees.

Back at Adyar the last thing I did before returning to the U.S. for our TSA board of directors meeting and Summer National Convention was to finalize the construction of a protective covering for the Adyar Theatre. Every year for many years at convention time we have put up a temporary structure to protect the 1200–1400 people sitting in the outdoor theater from sun and rain. One week before convention, it goes up. One week after, it comes down. It used to be a palm leaf thatch roof, and in recent years it has been corrugated metal. On the closing day of last year’s convention I promised that we would have a new structure the next year. Thanks to a generous and substantial donation from the Cleveland/Besant Lodge we will be putting up a structure that will last for many years, and is not just functional but beautiful (see photo).

Tim Boyd


Viewpoint: Applying the Principles

Printed in the Fall 2015  issue of Quest magazine.
Citation: Boyd, Tim. "Viewpoint: Applying the Principles" Quest 103.4 (Fall 2015): pg. 128-9.

By Tim Boyd

Theosophical Society - Tim Boyd was elected the president of the Theosophical Society Adyar in 2014. He succeeded Radha Burnier.Many years ago I had the good fortune to spend some time with an old and highly regarded Tibetan Buddhist monk. He had come to the Chicago area to give some teachings on the core Buddhist concept of love and compassion. He was a Rinpoche, which in Tibetan Buddhism means that he was recognized as a reincarnation of a previous high teacher, and he was one of the dwindling number of high lamas who had received their education and training in pre-Chinese Tibet. During his time in Chicago he and his attendant were staying at my home. Even though his English was little and my Tibetan was none, we would talk. He would share mantras, and show the various ways they were sung in the different monasteries. He was known for his kindness, directness, and unshakable conviction. When he gave his teachings, through a translator, he shared some of his personal story.

Because he was not among the thousands who fled with the Dalai Lama when the Chinese occupied Tibet, he was imprisoned and at one point sent for “reeducation” by the Chinese. A frequent feature of his reeducation process was that he would be walked around a circle of people where he would be publicly humiliated, beaten, ridiculed for his “feudal superstition,” and provoked to renounce his faith.

Although it was a harrowing story of continued abuse, Rinpoche was able to describe it quite dispassionately. He viewed it as an opportunity to apply the teachings he had been practicing over his lifetime. But which teachings could be effective in that situation? First he said that he tried the approach of experiencing it all through the mind of one of the enlightened beings. He had received many initiations and part of the ongoing practice was to take on the spiritual character, to “arise,” as the deity itself. So he tried it. On one occasion he arose as the wrathful deity, Yamantaka — a powerful being, literally a “terrifier,” filled with an energy that destroys all ignorance and limitation and conquers death. Yamantaka is said to be so fierce that even the other gods run when he appears. So as the people in the circle slapped, kicked, spit on him, and jeered, it was not Rinpoche but Yamantaka who faced them and passed through the experience.

After repeated attempts arising as different deities, Rinpoche decided that it was not effective. He tried meditational techniques to withdraw his consciousness during the hazing sessions, but that only had a limited effect. As a result of all of his experimentation he arrived at a profound conclusion: the teaching that was most effective was the least elaborate, most fundamental of all. He found that it was only when he embraced the mind of love and compassion that he was able to pass through the ordeal inwardly undamaged.

The basis for this mind of love and compassion is expressed in a twofold way, but really it is just one thing. The basic idea is that (1) everyone wants to be happy, and (2) everyone wants to avoid suffering. For committed practitioners, their role in life becomes to behave in such a way that their actions and thoughts lead others to happiness and freedom from suffering.

As an aid in developing this all-embracing attitude, from early childhood monks are encouraged to think about the “fact” that because the process of reincarnation is so all-encompassing, at some point every person has been in the position of being a great source of kindness to you. The teaching goes so far as to say that every person has been one’s mother in some past life. As a teaching tool one is encouraged to dwell on the idea that whatever the relationship may be in this life, at some point in the past the person in front of you has cared for you selflessly; has sacrificed greatly to support your growth; has tried to provide every circumstance that would lead to your happiness.

Using this view, how do you respond when in this life someone treats you badly, even deliberately causing you pain and suffering? That was Rinpoche’s dilemma in attempting to apply the teaching during his imprisonment and torture. The way he described it, as they walked him around the circle, he looked at his abusers with genuine pity. Their disconnection from their higher potentials, their ignorance of their true nature, and the karma that they were creating for themselves moved him profoundly. Much like the story of the crucifixion of Jesus, in the midst of what was thought to be suffering inflicted on him, what he saw was the suffering they were creating for themselves, and his prayer was “Forgive them, for they know not what they do.” Rinpoche asked us to imagine how we would respond if suddenly your own mother became abusive and hateful toward you. Would you hate her for it, and try to fight and destroy her, or would you feel that something had gone wrong in her mind — that for some reason she was temporarily insane, and as a result was more in need of love and compassion than ever?

I found myself captivated by Rinpoche’s story. Whether one is a Buddhist, a humanist, a capitalist, or a Theosophist, we all need values that we can live by — truths that can be applied to the ever fluctuating, often demanding conditions of daily life. Hopefully the circumstances that we face in our daily lives are not so dramatic as Rinpoche’s, but regardless of the particulars, the conditions of our daily life provide the testing ground for the truths we have encountered.

One of the distinguishing features of anything that can be called “truth” is that it must necessarily be true in every situation. It is universal. Yet in our day-to-day interactions we find ourselves enmeshed in a world of dualities. There seem to be at least two sides to every issue, but only glimmers of truth on either side. How do we choose to act in this setting? In the rush of daily life there is a tendency to resort to a kind of “situational truth” — something that works for a given situation, but has clear limitations.

In the Bhagavad Gita this same problem faced Arjuna and formed the basis of his conversation with Lord Krishna. For Arjuna the setting was as clearly drawn as possible — two sides about to go to war. As a leader of one side, but with friends, teachers, and loved ones on the other side, how do I act? From the situational point of view, Arjuna’s actions would either lead to destruction of life, families, and community or to rejection of duty (dharma), continuation of wrong, oppression in the world, and a denial of values. Caught between a rock and a hard place, Arjuna sought Krishna’s advice.

Albert Einstein once made the poignant observation that “no problem can be solved on the level of consciousness where it was created.” Krishna’s counsel to Arjuna began with shifting the level of the conversation far above Arjuna’s point of view. At the human level a paraphrase of Krishna’s advice might be, “Arjuna, you are looking at this in the wrong way. This is not about taking lives or destroying bodies. This is about the soul, the ‘dweller in the body,’ which is not born and doesn’t die. Lift your mind up and look at this from a different point of view. Let’s start with that.”

Sir Edwin Arnold’s poetic rendering of the Gita, The Song Celestial, presents this portion of Krishna’s advice thus:

Never the spirit was born; the spirit shall cease to be never;
Never was time it was not; End and Beginning are dreams!
Birthless and deathless and changeless remaineth the spirit for ever;
Death hath not touched it at all, dead though the house of it seems!

This initial counsel formed the basis for the profound, and practical, advice that followed on action, duty, liberation, and yoga.

Those who have embraced the wisdom teachings in Theosophy find themselves in the same position as Rinpoche and Arjuna, seeking and finding those truths which are sufficient to address the problems of daily life. In my next Viewpoint article I will explore some of the practical and transformative Theosophical teachings that embrace every phase and experience in life.

Theosophy must not represent merely a collection of moral verities, a bundle of metaphysical Ethics epitomized in theoretical dissertations. Theosophy must be made practical . . . It has to find objective expression in an all-embracing code of life thoroughly impregnated with its spirit — the spirit of mutual tolerance, charity and love. (H.P. Blavatsky, Collected Writings, 7:169)

 


From the Editor's Desk Fall 2015

 Printed in the Fall 2015  issue of Quest magazine.
Citation: SmoleyRichard. "From the Editor’s Desk" Quest 103.4 (Fall 2015): pg. 122.

Theosophical Society - Richard Smoley is editor of Quest: Journal of the Theosophical Society in America and a frequent lecturer for the Theosophical SocietyAsk an atheist what God is, and he is apt to reply, “Nothing.”

Ask a learned and pious Jew what God is, and he too is likely to answer, “Nothing.”

And in fact the Kabbalistic name for the deepest level of the Godhead is Ain, “nothing.” Clearly not all nothings are the same.

This is the kind of paradox one confronts when trying to fathom the nature of the divine. Recently my sons, who are five and six years old, asked me out of the blue what God is. I answered, “God is the source of everything. God is where everything comes from.” Since then, I haven’t been able to come up with another definition that’s any better.

In Theosophy, which involves a profound and sometimes tense dynamic between Eastern and Western perspectives, one issue has to do with whether God is ultimately personal.

The Western view tends to say that God is indeed personal. When Christian mystics look at the experience of their Asian counterparts, they are likely to say that the latters’ experience of the impersonal Brahman is merely a stepping-stone to an encounter with the living, personal God.

A Hindu, looking at Christians’ experience, may say the exact opposite. He may say that they have merely encountered Ishwara, the personal God, who is only a way station to the ultimate Brahman.

As usual, much has to do with context. Mystical experience is universal, but it is interpreted in vastly different ways depending on the mindset of the seeker.

In any event, here is my point of view. Ultimately God cannot be personal. Is God a Republican or a Democrat? Does God like ice cream? These are the sorts of things that are inextricably bound to personality as we know it.

Today it’s much harder to accept the personal God that Western religions have offered. We realize the unfathomability of the being that is indeed where everything came from — both the physical universe, vast as it is, and the universes beyond that, some of which we may glimpse but many of which we know and can know nothing.

In a way this new view is comforting. It frees us from the idea of God as a petty despot who is looking over our shoulders and nagging us about our tiniest faults. In another way it is not at all comforting. If the divine is indeed that vast, why should it bother about us at all? It would be like some fish that spawns countless offspring to whom it is indifferent and whom it barely recognizes. This God is pretty close to the blind, faceless forces of the scientists.

Thus I think it’s important to add a rider to the notion of the ultimately impersonal God: because we are persons, the Reality that made us as persons should also be able to relate to us as persons.

This may be quite different for other types of beings, but we are not galaxies or cockroaches. We are humans. We will inevitably experience the universe in a human fashion, and we have to be faithful to that experience.

Does this require us to commit the theological sin of anthropomorphizing — viewing God in a human form? Yes, of course it does. In the sixth century BC the philosopher Xenophanes observed, “If cattle and horses or lions had hands, or were able to draw with their hands and do the works that men can do, horses would draw the forms of the gods like horses, and cattle like cattle, and they would make their bodies such as they each had themselves.”

But there is no real way around this problem. Although our point of view is merely relative, we are bound to it by virtue of our humanity. We will inevitably think of the universe in human terms. Protagoras, another Greek philosopher, said, “Man is the measure of all things.” Of course — because man is the one doing the measuring.

So in the end we hang between two poles. One, which is unquestionably true, reminds us that we are very small in the scheme of things and that our view of it cannot be final or absolute. The other, which is equally unquestionable, is that we exist as humans, we have some purpose in having the experience of human life, and we must be as faithful to that experience as we can be.

Accepting this dichotomy can foster a flexibility of mind that is willing to think things through but is also able to accept that other minds might come to very different conclusions. From thence we are, or should be, led toward theological humility.

To take this attitude one step further, we may even have to acknowledge that the perspective of humanity as a whole is only one small fragment of a much larger and broader series of perspectives. This perspective may cause us, as Xenophanes said, to portray God with human characteristics. But we are not going to change that anytime soon. I sometimes wonder what God looks like to a galaxy or a cockroach.

Richard Smoley


The Buddha's Teaching of No-Self

Printed in the Fall 2015  issue of Quest magazine.
Citation: ReigleNancy. "The Buddha’s Teaching of No-Self" Quest 103.4 (Fall 2015): pg. 143-147.

Many people think that the Buddha denied the concept of the Atman, or Self. This may not be the case.

By Nancy Reigle

Theosophical Society - Nancy Reigle, along with her husband, David, is coauthor of Blavatsky’s Secret Books: Twenty Years’ Research (1999), and of Studies in the Wisdom Tradition (2015)Does Christianity believe in reincarnation? Of course it does not. Yet students of the Wisdom Tradition may seek to find evidence that early Christians did accept reincarnation. Similarly in Buddhism. Does Buddhism believe in the atman, the permanent self? Certainly the Buddhist religion does not. Yet there is evidence that the Buddha, when teaching his basic doctrine of anatman, “no-self,” only denied the abiding reality of the personal or empirical atman, but not the universal or authentic atman.

The Wisdom Tradition known as Theosophy teaches the existence of “an Omnipresent, Eternal, Boundless, and Immutable Principle” often compared to the Hindu atman, the universal “self,” while Buddhism, with its doctrine of anatman (literally “no-self”), is normally understood to deny any such universal principle. But there have been several attempts to show that the Buddha did not deny the existence of the authentic atman.

Only one of these attempts seems to have been taken seriously by scholars: the work of Kamaleswar Bhattacharya. His book on this subject, written in French, L’Atman-Brahman dans le Bouddhisme ancien, was published in Paris in 1973. An English translation of this work, The Atman-Brahman in Ancient Buddhism, was published in 2015. Here Bhattacharya sets forth his arguments for the existence of the Upanishadic atman in early Buddhism.

To begin with, how must we understand the Sanskrit term atman, or in Pali (the language of the oldest Buddhist texts), atta? The word atman has been translated into English a number of different ways by writers, sometimes as “soul” or “self” or “ego.” The consensus among scholars for some time now has been to translate atman as “self,” which we will do here. Likewise we will translate Sanskrit anatman, or Pali anatta, as “no-self.” Translating atman as “self” also avoids confusion between “soul” and “self” when it distinguishes atman, the eternal and unchanging self, from the reincarnating and evolving soul.

One of the basic teachings of Buddhism is that all existence has three defining characteristics (tri-lakshana): suffering (duhkha), impermanence (anitya), and no-self (anatman). If these are the Buddha’s basic teachings, then why question his teaching of anatman (no-self)?

In the case of Kamaleswar Bhattacharya, while he was doing research in the Sanskrit inscriptions of ancient Cambodia, he came across an inscription that caused him to question the teaching of anatman. The inscription that caught his attention begins with the following stanza. Note that nairatmya (non-self, absence of self) is a synonym for anatman (no-self). It reads:

Buddho bodhim vidadhyad vo yena nairatmyadarshanam |
viruddhasyapi sadhuktam sadhanam paramatmanah ||

The concept of paramatman [the highest self] is in contradiction (viruddha) with the doctrine of nairatmya [non-self]; nevertheless, the Buddha taught that same doctrine [of non-self] as a means (sadhana) of attaining to paramatman [the highest self]!

This may be restated as: the Buddha taught that through the cultivation of non-self (nairatmya), one reaches the highest self (paramatman). The idea here is that by emptying yourself of your personality, your lower self, you are able to reach or ascend to your highest self, your spiritual essence.

Interestingly, author Paul Brunton talks about this same inscription in one of his notebooks. He renders it as:

Let the Buddha give you the Bodhi, by Whom has been taught well the philosophy denying the existence of the individual souland teaching the cult of the universal soul though [the two teachings seem to be] contradictory.

When George Coedès, who was later to became Bhattacharya’s mentor, first saw this inscription in 1908, he thought that it had been contaminated by Hindu influence. But after Sylvain Lévi published his edition and translation of the Mahayana-Sutralamkara in 1907 and 1911, it became apparent that no contamination had taken place.

This important Buddhist text supported the idea that paramatma (the highest self) and nairatmya (non-self), found together in the inscription, were not contradictory:

In utterly pure Emptiness, the Buddhas have attained to the summit of the atman, which consists in Impersonality [nairatmya, non-self]. Since they have found, thus, the pure atman, they have reached the heights of atman.

And, in this Plan Without-Outflowing, is indicated the paramatman of the Buddhas — How so? — Because their atman consists in the essential Impersonality [nairatmya, non-self]. (Mahayana-Sutralamkara, 9.23, with beginning of commentary)

Note that Lévi has translated nairatmya as “Impersonality,” instead of “non-self,” which has been used above.

Bhattacharya then quoted another Mahayana text, the Ratnagotravibhaga commentary, to support this idea further:

The Tathagata [Buddha], on the other hand, by virtue of his absolute knowledge (yathabhutajnyanena), has gained perfect intuition of the Impersonality [nairatmya] of all separate elements. This Impersonality [nairatmya] accords, from every point of view (yatha-darshanam), with the characteristics of the atman. It is thus always regarded as atman, because it is Impersonality [nairatmya] which is atman (nairatmyam evatmeti kritva).

From this we can see that the two seemingly contradictory ideas of paramatman (the highest self) and nairatmya (non-self) found in the Cambodian inscription are not incompatible with Buddhist scriptures. Bhattacharya concludes: “The idea of paramatman is thus not contrary to the doctrine of nairatmya; the two terms rather designate the same thing from two different points of view.”

Another scholar, R. Grousset, commenting on the passage quoted above from the Mahayana-Sutralamkara, says that the nairatyma idea is also found in the Upanishads, known for their teaching of atman. He writes:

Such a conception recalls, curiously enough, material from some of the Upanishads; the atman consisting essentially in nairatmya, or, if preferred, the person being resolved in its very depths in impersonality, we there approach the impersonal atman of the Brihadaranyaka [Upanishad].

It is Bhattacharya’s belief that the Buddha did not deny this impersonal, eternal atman of the Upanishads.

Bhattacharya distinguishes two types of atman: (1) the authentic atman and (2) the empirical atman.

The authentic atman is the true spiritual atman of the Upanishads, eternal and unchanging. The empirical atman is the psychophysical individuality, the person, which is ephemeral and changing. This psychophysical individuality is made up of five components, which are called skandhas, or aggregates. These five skandhas are:

1. Form, or body (rupa)
2. Feeling (vedana)
3. Perception and conception (samjrina)
4. Karma formations, or karmic seeds (samskara)
5. Consciousness (vijrinana)

In other words, the five skandhas, or aggregates, make up what we would call the everyday person. As we saw earlier, just like everything else in existence, the skandhas, too, are characterized by suffering (duhkha), impermanence (anitya), and no-self (anatman).

Throughout the Buddhist scriptures of the Pali canon, we find the Buddha repeatedly denying the existence of the atman in the five skandhas. The following dialogue is one example, where he says:

“Now what think you, Sona? Is body permanent or impermanent?”

“Impermanent, lord.”

“And what is impermanent, is that woe or weal?”

“Woe, lord.”

“And is it fitting to hold such views as ‘this is mine,’ ‘this am I,’ or ‘this is the self of me,’ about that which is impermanent and unstable?”

“Surely not, lord.”

“Is feeling . . . perception . . . the activities [karma formations] . . . is consciousness permanent or impermanent? (as before) . . .”

“Surely not, lord.”

“Wherefore, Sona, whatsoever body there be, whether past, future or present, inward or outward, gross or subtle, low or lofty, far or near . . . every body should thus be regarded as it really is by right insight. Thus ‘this is not mine,’ ‘this am not I,’ ‘this of me is not the self.’”

And so also with regard to feeling, perception, the activities [karma formations] and consciousness (so should they be regarded). (Samyutta-Nikaya, 22.49.20)

This type of negation is meant to dispel the idea of a permanent, truly existing personality, the satkaya-drishti. It is clear that the skandhas, the ephemeral person, cannot be the eternal, unchanging atman.

While the Buddha clearly and repeatedly said that there was no atman in the skandhas, he did not directly or specifically deny the existence of the eternal atman of the Upanishads. As Bhattacharya says:

The Buddha did not say, “There is no atman.” He simply said, in speaking of the skandhas/khandhas, ephemeral and painful, which constitute the psycho-physical being of a man: n’etam mama, n’eso ’ham asmi, na m’eso atta, “This is not mine, I am not this, this is not my atman.” 

The scholar Ananda Coomaraswamy, in his book Hinduism and Buddhism, agrees: “The repeated expression ‘That is not my Self’ has so often been misinterpreted to mean ‘There is no Self.’”

Bhattacharya cites another passage from the Pali canon to illustrate that the Buddha did not deny the existence of the authentic atman. This passage speaks of an “unborn,” “unproduced,” “uncreated.” This is reminiscent of the immutable principle spoken of in The Secret Doctrine. The Buddha says in this passage:

There is, monks, an unborn, unproduced, uncreated, unformed. If there were not, monks, an unborn, unproduced, uncreated, unformed, there would be no issue [escape] for the born, the produced, the created, the formed. (Udana, 8.3)

Bhattacharya elaborates on this passage from the Udana, with scriptural support from the Samyutta Nikaya:

Note that the “unborn, unproduced, uncreated, unformed” (ajata, abhuta, akata, asamkhata), in a word, the Unconditioned, is not another world, situated beyond the “born, produced, created, formed” (jata, bhuta, kata, samkhata). It is in us, is our very selves: it is our essential nature. It must, then, be discovered in the depths of our being, by transcending our phenomenal existence.

Bhattacharya’s thesis is that when the Buddha denied the presence of the atman in the skandhas, he was indirectly affirming the existence of the authentic, Upanishadic atman.

To support his position, Bhattacharya cites the Indian logician Uddyotakara of the Hindu Nyaya school, who said that thistype of negation, “This is not mine, I am not this, this is not my atman,” doesn’t make sense logically unless one accepts that the atman exists. This is called a specific negation. Uddyotakara says:

This negation is a specific negation (visheshapratishedha), not a universal negation (samanyapratishedha). One who does not accept the atman must employ a universal negation: “I am not,” “You are not.” A specific negation always implies a corresponding affirmation: when, for example, I say, “I do not see with my left eye,” it is understood that I do see with my right eye. 

In this case, the specific negation of atman in the skandhas would have for its corresponding affirmation the existence of the authentic, Upanishadic atman.

The eminent Buddhist scholar La Vallée Poussin, commenting on a passage from the Majjhima-Nikaya, corroborates Bhattacharya’s thesis when he says:

In the light of this text, which really is quite straightforward, we may understand several sermons, and notably the sermon of Benares, not as the negation of the atman as do the Buddhists — but as the affirmation of an atman distinct from the skandhas.

This brings us back to the teaching of the stanza in the inscription that we began with:

The Buddha taught the doctrine of nairatmya [non-self] as the means (sadhana) of attaining to paramatman [the highest self]. 

Here the stanza teaches us to cultivate the specific negation of nairatmya (non-self) in order to attain to its corresponding affirmation of paramatman (the highest self). The two Mahayana texts we cited earlier to support these ideas (the Mahayana-Sutralamkara and the commentary to the Ratna-gotravibhaga) treated nairatmya and paramatman as synonyms. In other words, once understood, they become two different sides of the same coin. Nairatmya, the negation of the empirical self, reveals paramatman, the highest authentic self, which is inexpressible.

This type of logic can be fruitfully employed when referring to truth or the absolute, such as atman or paramatman. Since truth is beyond discursive thought, it can be referred to in negative terms only, such as the neti neti, “not this, not that,” of the Upanishads. As Bhattacharya says:

All truths as can be formulated are, in fact, but approximations of Truth, which is inexpressible; none of them can be identified with Truth itself. They aid us in reaching it, they guide our progress towards it; but they must be transcended if it is to be reached.

It is perhaps for this reason that when the itinerant monk Vatsagotra (Pali: Vacchagotta) came to the Buddha and asked him if there is an atman or not, the Buddha remained silent. Also, it is there explained that had the Buddha answered either way, Vatsagotra would have misunderstood him because of his preconceptions. To have given any answer would have been misleading.

What are some possible reasons for confusion concerning the atman in Buddhism?

1. The Buddha’s silence on pertinent questions, such as whether the atman exists, as we have just seen in the Vatsagotra story, has been a long-standing source of confusion for readers of the Buddhist scriptures. While the Buddha taught that the skandhas are anatman, he did not say that there is no atman. If he had wanted to dispel the idea of the atman itself, he could have done so directly, to avoid confusion.

2. Although the Buddha repeatedly taught the doctrine of anatman relative to the skandhas, there are nevertheless numerous occurrences of the word atman throughout the Buddhist scriptures. With all the emphasis the Buddha placed on the teaching of anatman, the many references to atman can be confusing.

Citing the Pali canon alone, Pérez-Remón says:

In fact the references to atta [atman] in the five Nikayas are as overwhelming, as regards their numbers, as the references to anatta, and plenty of those references are extremely significant.

3. Although both positive and negative formulations of atman are found in the Buddhist scriptures, it is the negative formulations that predominate. Bhattacharya says:

There certainly are positive expressions, relative to the atman, in the Pali Canon . . . But these positive expressions — often moreover wrongly interpreted — are almost drowned in the mass of negative expressions . . . It is this predilection for negative expression which would seem to have been responsible for the pernicious theory of the “negation of the atman.”

4. Another source of confusion in the Buddhist scriptures is the fact that the word atman can be used in more than one sense. Not only can atman have the meaning of the authentic, Upanishadic atman, but it can and often is used simply as a reflexive personal pronoun. As Steven Collins says: “Atta [Atman] is the regular reflexive pronoun in Pali, used in the masculine singular for all numbers and genders.”

Thus, as a reflexive pronoun, the word atta [atman] can be used for “myself,” “yourself,” “himself,” “herself,” “ourselves,” etc.

As we have seen, the word atman can be used to indicate either the empirical self, designated by the personal pronoun, or the authentic, Upanishadic self. Hence the possible confusion that can arise in translation in certain contexts. Bhattacharya

cites a verse from the Dhammapada illustrating the different usages of the word atman within a single verse (emphasis added):

atta hi attano natho ko hi natho paro siya |
attana hi sudantena natham labhati dullabham ||

The atman is the refuge of the self. What other refuge can there be?

When the (phenomenal) atman is properly subdued, a refuge, difficult to find, is obtained. (Dhammapada, 160) 

Walpola Rahula, the distinguished Sinhalese monk and Buddhist scholar, interprets this verse differently. Here is his translation (emphasis added):

Oneself is one’s own protector (refuge); what other protector (refuge) can there be? With oneself fully controlled, one obtains a protection (refuge) which is hard to gain. 

Note that Rahula translates each occurrence of “atman” as the reflexive pronoun (“oneself”), while Bhattacharya translates the first occurrence of “atman” as the authentic atman, followed by the empirical atman.

Bhattacharya also cited some verses from the Bhagavad Gita (6.5-7) to show a precedent for this alternating translation of atman as the empirical and the authentic atman. Here is verse 6.5 (emphasis added):

uddhared atmanatmanam natmanam avasadayet |
atmaiva hy atmano bandhur atmaiva ripur atmanah ||

May one be saved by himself, may one not let himself perish.

The (phenomenal) atman is the friend of the (true) atman, and it is also its enemy.

This example clearly shows the juxtaposition of atman in its two meanings within a single verse. Some of the confusion in interpreting the atman in Buddhism could be avoided by distinguishing between the two. As Bhattacharya says:

The Buddha certainly denied the atman. That atman, however, is not the Upanishadic atman.[END EXCERPT]

And elsewhere:

 Before stating that Buddhism has denied the atman, modern authors should, therefore, have been precise as to which atman is meant. 

Bhattacharya cites a statement from the great Buddhist master Vasubandhu, “which perfectly elucidates the so-called ‘negation of atman’ in Buddhism”:

 It is by virtue of that nature of things, consisting in subject and object, which the ignorant imagine, that the things are devoid of self, not by virtue of that ineffable Self which is the domain of the Enlightened Ones. (Vimshatika-vritti, verse 10) 

Bhattacharya has a panoramic view of Buddhism within the larger Indian context. He believes that it did not arise out of a vacuum, but that in fact the Buddha “was continuing the Upanishadic tradition.” Comparing the teachings of the Pali canon with those of the Upanishads, Bhattacharya writes:

The existence of similarities between two traditions does not imply total identity. But the difference between the teachings of the Pali Canon and those of the Upanishad[s] has too often been exaggerated. The Buddha’s Absolute appears to be the same as that of the Upanishads. 

He repeats this statement in another place, concluding in an even stronger manner:

 The Buddha’s Absolute is the same as that of [the] Upanishads; the gulf was created later, by the scholastic interpretations. 

Bhattacharya sees the difference between the Upanishads and Buddhism as “simply a difference in emphasis.” He says that “Buddhism is, first and foremost, a doctrine of salvation.” Whereas the authors of the Upanishads were more philosophers than saviors, the Buddha was more a savior than a philosopher. While the Upanishadic authors spoke “much more of the Infinite than of the finite, much more of the Goal than of the Way,” the Buddha spoke “more of the finite than of the Infinite, more of the Way than of the Goal.” But he says that the goal of the philosopher and the savior are the same, and that goal is “Knowledge which is Deliverance.”

Bhattacharya has said that deliverance, or liberation, is “rediscovering our true being by transcending our phenomenal existence.” But he notes that deliverance is not complete for a bodhisattva until the entire world is delivered, “since he and the world are identical.” The Buddha shows “the way which leads from the ephemeral to the Eternal, from the mortal to the Immortal, from the sorrow of the finite to the Bliss of the Infinite.”

Transcending our phenomenal existence to realize the authentic atman leads us from the ephemeral to the eternal. Realizing the anatman (or nairatmya), the no-self of the person, leads us to the realization of the atman (or paramatman), the true spiritual self. When understood correctly, we can see that there is no contradiction between them. As Bhattacharya says:

There is no contradiction between atman and anatman. The atman, which is denied, and that which is affirmed, through that negation itself, pertains to two different levels. It is only when we have not succeeded in distinguishing between them, that the terms atman and anatman seem to us to be opposed.

Bhattacharya concludes:

Does not Buddhism deny the atman? . . . I have but one answer which I have tried to formulate in various ways in this book, on the basis, invariably, of a study of the Pali canon and of the Nikayas in particular, that is: the Buddha does not deny the Upanishadic atman; on the contrary, he indirectly affirms it, in denying that which is falsely believed to be the atman. (Emphasis Bhattacharya’s.) 

The implication of this for the Wisdom Tradition is clear. Bhattacharya has provided substantial evidence, from exoteric Buddhist sources, that the Buddha did not deny the Upanishadic atman or self, a universal principle comparable to that taught in the Wisdom Tradition. Blavatsky has provided us with an esoteric Buddhist source that states this outright. She calls this “An Unpublished Discourse of Buddha.” It says:

 Said the All-Merciful: Blessed are ye, O Bhikshus, happy are ye who have understood the mystery of Being and Non-Being explained in Bas-pa [secret Dharma, doctrine], and have given preference to the latter, for ye are verily my Arhats . . . The elephant, who sees his form mirrored in the lake, looks at it, and then goes away, taking it for the real body of another elephant, is wiser than the man who beholds his face in the stream, and looking at it, says, “Here am I . . . I am I” — for the “I,” his Self, is not in the world of the twelve Nidanas and mutability, but in that of Non-Being, the only world beyond the snares of Maya . . .

That alone, which has neither cause nor author, which is self-existing, eternal, far beyond the reach of mutability, is the true “I” [Ego], the Self of the Universe . . . He who listens to my secret law, preached to my select Arhats, will arrive with its help at the knowledge of Self, and thence at perfection. 

Thus esoteric Buddhism does accept the true spiritual self or atman, as shown in this unpublished discourse of the Buddha. This is the position of the Wisdom Tradition. In a similar way, Bhattacharya describes the Upanishadic atman (the self) that is not denied by the Buddha, even using the same terms, being and non-being:

It is the Being in itself, one, all-encompassing, absolute. From the objective standpoint, as we have seen, it is a non-being. But it is this non-being which is the authentic Being, the ground of all beings.

The great value of Bhattacharya’s work for students of the Wisdom Tradition is that it shows the acceptance of the true spiritual self or atman from extant exoteric Buddhist sources. The Buddha’s fundamental doctrine of anatman or no-self is a denial of only the personal self, thereby leading one to the realization of the universal self. This universal atman is a principle that is in full agreement with the omnipresent, eternal, boundless, and immutable principle of The Secret Doctrine, described in the Mandukya Upanishad as inconceivable and inexpressible. It is no wonder that the Buddha couldn’t speak about the true, spiritual atman.


Nancy Reigle, along with her husband, David, is coauthor of Blavatsky’s Secret Books: Twenty Years’ Research (1999), and of Studies in the Wisdom Tradition (2015). Much of their research may be found on their Web site: www.easterntradition.org.

The foregoing article was presented as part of the program “Theosophy’s Tibetan Connection” at the annual meeting of the Texas Federation of the Theosophical Society in America, San Antonio, April 18-20, 2008. This version has been edited to remove diacritical marks for the Sanskrit as well as references. For the full article, visit www.easterntradition.org/Atman_Anatman%20in%20Buddhism.pdf.


To Whom Shall We Pray? HPB's War on the Personal Gods

Printed in the Fall 2015  issue of Quest magazine.
Citation: CosbyJeff."To Whom Shall We Pray? HPB’s War on the Personal Gods" Quest 103.4 (Fall 2015): pg. 140-142.

By Jeff Cosby

God worship seems to be almost genetically ingrained into the human psyche. There is no culture, race, or polity existing on the planet today that does not encourage or at least condone the worship of a “higher power” in some form or fashion. Marxist-Leninist communism is the only atheistic political doctrine in history that specifically rejected and actively repressed the worship of deities, but as recent history has shown, it has not been effective in restraining this seemingly irrepressible human impulse to worship one god or another. Arguably the only truly atheistic polity remaining is North Korea, yet what we see there is the deification of the ruler, the cult of personality, which has simply replaced traditional god worship.

If one reads The Secret Doctrine at any length, it quickly becomes apparent that H.P. Blavatsky harbored an abiding animosity towards humanity’s worship of personal gods. She reserved a special hostility towards the Abrahamic faiths’ worship of Yahweh or Jehovah as their one God. We need only to sample a few of her comments from The Secret Doctrine to illustrate this point.

Christian theology has evolved its self-created human and personal God, the monstrous Head from whence flow in two streams the dogmas of Salvation and Damnation. (1:613)

The Biblical Jehovah, the spiteful and revengeful God of Abram, Isaac, and Jacob, who tempted the former and wrestled with the last. (1:440n.)

For both [Roman Catholics and Protestants] the Hierarchy of Being begins and ends within the narrow frames of their respective theologies: one self-created personal God and an Empyrean [Heaven] ringing with the Hallelujahs of created angels; the rest, false gods, Satan and fiends. (1:612; emphasis here and in other quotes is in the original)

So what does the term “personal God” mean in The Secret Doctrine? Many might assume that HPB was using “personal” in the possessive sense, as for example, some Christians refer to Jesus the Christ as their “personal Lord and Savior.” This would be wrong. HPB used the term in its descriptive sense, as in “existing as a self-aware entity, not as an abstraction, or an impersonal force; e.g., ‘Jews, Christians, and Muslims believe in a personal God’” (The New Oxford American Dictionary). These deities are said to possess “personhood” in the sense that we as humans can somehow “know” them and comprehend their thoughts. HPB often accompanied “personal” with the term “anthropomorphic,” as is evidenced in her statement that:

The above is not a defense of Pagan gods, nor is it an attack on the Christian deity, nor does it mean a belief in either. The writer is quite impartial, and rejects testimony in favor of either. Neither praying to, nor believing in, nor dreading any such “personal” and anthropomorphic God. (1:468)

When we combine these two adjectives, we can begin to understand HPB’s vision of these deities — created or conceived in man’s own image, and possessing many of the same emotions and instincts of humanity.

So does this mean that HPB considered these entities as figments of man’s imagination? I think not, at least if you take her at her word when she states:

If we are taken to task for believing in operating “Gods” and “Spirits” while rejecting a personal God, we answer to the Theists and Monotheists: “Admit that your Jehovah is one of the Elohim, and we are ready to recognize him.” (1:492n.)

As most students of Theosophy probably know, HPB equated the Elohim with the secondary emanations and powers variously termed Dhyan Chohans, Creators, Sephiroth, and Adam Kadmon, among others.

It can be reasonably inferred from the above that HPB believed in the existence of these personal gods. But she objected to (1) their worship, and (2) humankind’s assertion that these gods were the one God, the origin of all things, or the ultimate One Principle.

In the section of The Secret Doctrine entitled “The Theogony of the Creative Gods” (1:424–445), HPB traces what one might term the corruption of the ancient truths regarding the One Principle from which all phenomenological experience emanates. She begins by stating,

To thoroughly comprehend the idea underlying every ancient cosmology necessitates the study, in a comparative analysis, of all the great religions of antiquity; as it is only by this method that the root idea will be made plain. Exact science . . . would call this idea the hierarchy of Forces. The original, transcendental and philosophical conception was one. But as systems began to reflect with every age more and more the idiosyncrasies of nations . . . the main idea gradually became veiled with the overgrowth of human fancy. While in some countries the Forces, or rather the intelligent Powers of nature, received divine honors they were hardly entitled to, in others — as now in Europe and the civilized lands — the very thought of any such Force being endowed with intelligence seems absurd, and is proclaimed as unscientific . . .

We firmly believe in the personality and intelligence of more than one phenomenon-producing Force in nature. [However], as time rolled on, the archaic teaching grew dimmer; and those nations more or less lost sight of the highest and One principle of all things, and began to transfer the abstract attributes of the “causeless cause” to the caused effects. (1:424-25)

So this is the essence of HPB’s “war” on the personal gods. It is not that such forces do not exist, but that many religions, particularly the Abrahamic faiths, have melded the One Principle, the “rootless root,” the “causeless cause” into those powers which, she asserts, emanate from it. Thus as she describes it, they are transferring “the abstract attributes of the causeless cause to the caused effects.”

In her excellent book The Great Angel, biblical scholar Margaret Barker traces this development in ancient Judaism. She convincingly argues that the postexilic Deuteronomists repressed the worship of their original triune god: El, the Source; Asherah, the feminine aspect of the manifested deity; and Yahweh/Jehovah, the male emanation, one of the “host of the Elohim.” The Deuteronomists in effect melded these three into the one God — Yahweh/Jehovah. Barker’s views in some key respects resemble those of Blavatsky.

HPB made her feelings clear about this development:

The fact of choosing a deity among the pagan gods and making of it a special national God, to call upon it as “the One living God,” the “God of Gods,” and then proclaim this worship Monotheistic, does not change it into the one Principle whose “Unity admits not of multiplication, change, or form,” especially in the case of a Priapic deity, as Jehovah [is] now demonstrated to be” (1:6n.)

Christians who profess to believe in the Holy Trinity may claim that their dogma of Father, Son, and the Holy Spirit does in fact acknowledge the existence of HPB’s One Principle in the form of the Father. But this argument collapses under closer scrutiny, because nearly all Christian sects acknowledge the canonical authority of the Old Testament scriptures. By implication, then, they prostrate themselves before the same God as that of the Jews — Yahweh/Jehovah — this “third rate potency,” as HPB describes it (1:349).

So what is the Theosophist to do? I suppose that HPB would advise us to become Buddhists, as she and Olcott did. Many strains of Buddhism do acknowledge the existence of personal gods. Certainly Hinduism, with its pantheon of deities, not only acknowledges the existence of these intelligent Forces, but actively encourages and incorporates their worship into their religious practices.

The difference between these religions and Western religions, however, is that Buddhism and Hinduism recognize that these personal gods are not the One Source, the causeless cause, the rootless root, but rather are emanations therefrom and manifestations thereof. They are within time, and are thus finite in duration and in power.

What HPB was saying in essence is that we cannot have it both ways. The ultimate Deity, as stated in the First Proposition of The Secret Doctrine, is “an Omnipresent, Eternal, Boundless, and Immutable Principle on which all speculation is impossible since it transcends the power of human conception . . . It is beyond the range and reach of thought” (1:14). She would even object to calling this entity “God,” as she makes clear:

Deity is not God. It is nothing, and darkness. It is nameless, and therefore called Ain-Soph. (1:350)

Hence its name — Ain-Soph — is a term of negation, “the inscrutable, the incognizable, and the unnameable.” (1:429)

HPB’s answer to those who wish to pray to or worship this entity is this:

The ever unknowable and incognizable Karana alone, the Causeless Cause of all causes, should have its shrine and altar on the holy and ever untrodden ground of our heart . . . Those who worship before it ought to do so in the silent and sanctified solitude of their Souls. (1:280)

If the One Principle is beyond propitiation, then might we turn to personal gods for exoteric prayer or worship? Unfortunately not, at least according to HPB:

Neither the collective Host (Demiourgos), nor any of the working powers individually, are proper subjects for divine honors or worship. All are entitled to the grateful reverence of Humanity, however, [and] man ought to be ever striving to help the divine evolution of Ideas, by becoming to the best of his ability a co-worker with nature in this cyclic task. (1:280)

I believe that in the end HPB would advise us to abandon our personal gods altogether and take her advice when she says:

The “still greater and more exacting divinity” than the god of this world, supposed so “good”—is Karma. And this true divinity shows well that the lesser one, our inner God (personal for the time being) has no power to arrest the mighty hand of this greater Deity, the Cause awakened by our actions generating smaller causes, which is called the Law of Retribution. (2:555n.)

In the final analysis, HPB would likely say that we create our own karma, and no amount of prayer or worship will change it. As the Third Truth of Mabel Collins’s Idyll of the White Lotus states, “Each man is his own absolute lawgiver, the dispenser of glory or gloom to himself; the decreer of his life, his reward, his punishment” (Collins, 114).

So by all the above, dear reader, you may presume that I have become an opponent of prayer. This is by no means true. I still indulge, albeit somewhat guiltily, in the practice. I would certainly appreciate anyone’s suggestions as to how one might properly incorporate individual prayer into the Theosophical life. Until then, I will continue to utter my own, covertly, in the still, small silence of my heart.


Sources

Barker, Margaret. The Great Angel: A Study of Israel’s Second God. Louisville, Ky.: Westminster John Knox, 1992.

Blavatsky, H.P. The Secret Doctrine. Pasadena, Calif.: Theosophical University Press, 1988. Citations in this article are taken from this edition.

Collins, Mabel. The Idyll of the White Lotus. Wheaton: Quest, 1974.

Smoley, Richard. “God and the Great Angel.” Quest (Winter 2011), 24–28.

Another tool of incalculable value was J.P. Van Mater’s Index to The Secret Doctrine. I urge every serious student of The Secret Doctrine to obtain a copy of this incredible work. It will make these terribly complex volumes much more enjoyable and one’s study of them more productive. Van Hater also cites previous indices compiled by Boris de Zirkoff and the United Lodge of Theosophists, but I have not personally reviewed those.

 

Jeff Cosby holds a B.A. in political science from Wabash College and a J.D. from Valparaiso University School of Law. He has been a longtime participant in the TS’s Prison Outreach Program.


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