The TS Archives: Bringing History into the Present

Printed in the Spring 2012 issue of Quest magazine. Citation: Kerschner, Janet. "The TS Archives: Bringing History into the Present" Quest  100. 2 (Spring 2012): pg. 62-64.

By Janet Kerschner

     Every day is an adventure in the archives of the Theosophical Society in America. Recently, for example, I received a heavyTheosophical Society - Butte Lodge Tree Tag bronze tree plaque found by a visitor near the Garden of Remembrance at our Olcott headquarters. The inscription particularly caught my eye because of its inscription: "Presented by Butte Lodge May 6, 1925" (right). That was the very first day that trees were planted on the bare fields of our newly purchased estate in Wheaton (left). Archival records quickly showed that a Crimean linden was donated by the Butte Lodge at a cost of $10.50. The tree did not survive long, and was replaced by a sycamore. 

Theosophical Society - Tree Planting: May 6, 1925Archives are records of enduring value created or collected by an individual or an organization. The value can be legal, financial, historical, artistic, or intrinsic, but to an archivist the worth of a record is based on its authenticity as evidence of the originator's activities and interests. Archives are far from being dusty old papers, but are imbued with all the vitality of current events and foreshadowings of the future. Our institutional memory is a tapestry of correspondence and reports, recordings and photographs, databases and e-mails. The TSA archives holds organizational papers that were once actively produced, received, and used by our staff. In the 1920s TSA president L. W. Rogers wrote an article in The Messenger asking for trees to be donated; a bookkeeper recorded $10.50 received from Butte, Montana; a secretary ordered a bronze plaque; a typist created a list of the tree locations; and a photographer snapped the image. And, fortunately for us today, someone retained those records "for the archives," never guessing that we would be looking at them with new interest in 2012. 

 The TSA archives department exists primarily to preserve organizational records, but serves another major function as aTheosophical Society - Codd and Loenholdts May 18, 1930 repository for materials donated by individuals and groups. These special collections include the papers of the great Blavatsky scholar Boris de Zirkoff; the photo albums of author Clara Codd (right); a large mixed-media collection from past TSA president Dora Kunz and her husband; the postcard collection of Carl E. Holbrook, including many cards sent by C. W. Leadbeater; two volumes of photographs belonging to author and clairvoyant Geoffrey Hodson; and many more. The family of painter Henry Schwartz gave us a magnificent portrait of Jiddu Krishnamurti made in 1926 (which now hangs outside the president's office at our Olcott headquarters), along with papers and photographs from the old Oak Park Lodge.  Donations have come in many forms—boxed records from a lodge that closed; a single photograph; postage stamps featuring Theosophists; a palm-leaf manuscript; a horseshoe found on the grounds. A proactive archivist tries to locate papers held in private hands and to capture reminiscences as oral histories. Memoirs, correspondence, photographs, Web pages, and artifacts from families and lodges can add rich detail to the Society's history. Many of our accessions come unexpectedly, sometimes without explanation. One gentleman from Kentucky thought it was important for us to have a photograph of a dead weasel covered with eight swastikas, but he gave no idea of its significance. Our most recent gift, on the other hand, is truly a treasure—a small sculpture of a Bodhisattva, owned by TS cofounder Henry Steel Olcott, that was sent to us by historian Joseph E. Ross.

Theosophical Society - Bodhisattva that Colonel Henry S. Olcott received from an influential family during his travels through China in 1890 (figure 8). (A Bodhisattva, in Mahayana Buddhism, is an individual who has vowed to postpone individual salvation in order to work on behalf of the liberation of all sentient beings.) Srimati Rukmini Devi, an Indian Theosophist celebrated for her efforts at reviving Indian classical dance, gave this piece of art to Joseph on October 2, 1978, so that it would be delivered to America to strengthen the links of East and West. Joseph writes that "the artisan who created it was well versed in Hindu symbolism, yet he melded it into a typically Chinese visage and trunk. The five circular coins on the cover represent the fourfold lower worlds of personality plus the one of the spirit represented by the bird...The landscape inside the cover represents...the planet earth. The figure sits on a lotus in space as represented by the starry background."     Theosophical Society - Bodhisattva that Colonel Henry S. Olcott received from an influential family during his travels through China in 1890 (figure 8). (A Bodhisattva, in Mahayana Buddhism, is an individual who has vowed to postpone individual salvation in order to work on behalf of the liberation of all sentient beings.) Srimati Rukmini Devi, an Indian Theosophist celebrated for her efforts at reviving Indian classical dance, gave this piece of art to Joseph on October 2, 1978, so that it would be delivered to America to strengthen the links of East and West. Joseph writes that "the artisan who created it was well versed in Hindu symbolism, yet he melded it into a typically Chinese visage and trunk. The five circular coins on the cover represent the fourfold lower worlds of personality plus the one of the spirit represented by the bird...The landscape inside the cover represents...the planet earth. The figure sits on a lotus in space as represented by the starry background."   Theosophical Society - Bodhisattva that Colonel Henry S. Olcott received from an influential family during his travels through China in 1890 (figure 8). (A Bodhisattva, in Mahayana Buddhism, is an individual who has vowed to postpone individual salvation in order to work on behalf of the liberation of all sentient beings.) Srimati Rukmini Devi, an Indian Theosophist celebrated for her efforts at reviving Indian classical dance, gave this piece of art to Joseph on October 2, 1978, so that it would be delivered to America to strengthen the links of East and West. Joseph writes that "the artisan who created it was well versed in Hindu symbolism, yet he melded it into a typically Chinese visage and trunk. The five circular coins on the cover represent the fourfold lower worlds of personality plus the one of the spirit represented by the bird...The landscape inside the cover represents...the planet earth. The figure sits on a lotus in space as represented by the starry background." 

Olcott's Bodhisattva
 We are grateful to Joseph E. Ross for our most recent donation. He sent us an exquisite Bodhisattva that Colonel Henry S. Olcott received from an influential family during his travels through China in 1890 (figure 8). (A Bodhisattva, in Mahayana Buddhism, is an individual who has vowed to postpone individual salvation in order to work on behalf of the liberation of all sentient beings.) Srimati Rukmini Devi, an Indian Theosophist celebrated for her efforts at reviving Indian classical dance, gave this piece of art to Joseph on October 2, 1978, so that it would be delivered to America to strengthen the links of East and West. Joseph writes that "the artisan who created it was well versed in Hindu symbolism, yet he melded it into a typically Chinese visage and trunk. The five circular coins on the cover represent the fourfold lower worlds of personality plus the one of the spirit represented by the bird...The landscape inside the cover represents...the planet earth. The figure sits on a lotus in space as represented by the starry background."

The Bodhisattva was brought to this country in 1978, the Chinese Year of the Horse, as the horse is a transporter or carrier of things. Rukmini Devi told Joseph that this object holds subtle influences that would "leaven the climate of brotherhood and unity among all the people of the earth planet. It is a universal symbol written in Hindi Chinese script. Its presence now in the west is to strengthen the realization of Oneness."

 

Theosophical Society - Archival Document CasesIn archival practice, records groups are identified by provenance (the creator or collector of the materials) and maintained in their original order. At times the provenance is unknown and must be deduced from the contents of the records. For example, an original signed letter would usually belong to the papers of the recipient, whereas a carbon copy of the same letter would be found in the files of the writer. Both the original and the carbon may have valuable handwritten notations as well as attached materials reflecting the different viewpoints of the writer and recipient. Often boxes of old papers arrive in a jumble, and the archivist must draw order from the chaos by devising a system of organization that will be useful for researchers. Each collection of records is documented in finding aids designed to describe the materials and their organization (left).  

 Management of archives requires continual balancing of preservation with access. Papers, photographic images, audiovisual materials, artifacts, and digital objects all have different requirements for physical preservation and access. Colored pigments and inks can deteriorate rapidly at normal office temperatures, and cellulose-based papers become brittle and discolored. The archivist must apply preservation measures to prevent or delay this degradation. Temperature and relative humidity are monitored, and the environment is kept free of dust, contaminants, mold, and insects—a demanding task for us in a structure built in 1926. Some documents are simply too fragile to handle, and access can best be provided through digital or printed surrogates. Preservation of digital media requires particular combinations of hardware and software that rapidly become obsolete, so continued access to digital materials depends on frequent migration to the latest-greatest technology. Preservation of older records is simpler. Papers and photographs are transferred into labeled, acid-free folders and boxes, with fasteners like rubber bands and paper clips removed.

Ultimately, continued access is the goal. We do not acquire and maintain archival materials like misers hoarding treasure. Free access is our policy, with very few exceptions. Administrative records are not restricted except for certain personnel and legal matters, but privacy and confidentiality must be respected. Dora Kunz, for example, left us case studies of healing sessions using Therapeutic Touch, a healing modality of which she was the coinventor. Legally, the names of patients must be redacted (omitted or covered up) before we can permit researchers to view those papers. Copyright is another legal issue that must be considered when dealing with unpublished works and photographs. Restrictions are occasionally imposed on donated collections, although we try to establish the broadest rights that donors will allow as we draw up deed of gift agreements.

 Inquiries come daily in many forms. TSA staff and members often need photographs, copyright information, membership records, and general fact checking. Lodges, camps, and other groups have asked for assistance with preservation issues, advice about grant proposals, and anniversary celebrations. Last summer, old scripts from the archives enjoyed a revival as skits performed at Pumpkin Hollow Retreat Center in Craryville, New York.

A few questions come from the general public, and occasionally involve dramatic misconceptions. A foreign student telephoned asking about Henry Steel Olcott, of whom he knew little except that Olcott was a national hero in the young man's home of Sri Lanka. He said that in a competition in his secondary school he had been awarded the "Sir Henry S. Olcott Award" for public speaking. It came as a surprise to him that Olcott was an American colonel rather than a British knight! Another caller wanted to know if Olcott had fathered illegitimate children in South Asia, and I had to convince him that this was extremely unlikely given Olcott's impeccable ethics and Buddhist vows.

The requests of academic researchers range widely. Some questions have involved Reiki founder Mikao Usui; early Theosophical terminology; L. Frank Baum, author of The Wizard of Oz; the fourth dimension; architect Marion Mahoney Griffin; the Association of Hebrew Theosophists; composer Alexander Scriabin; the architecture of Theosophical communities; and educator Maria Montessori. Archival collections cannot always contribute the needed information, but our excellent library and its periodicals usually fill in the gaps. Grateful academics often reciprocate with information of their own. The Thomas Edison Archives recently sent scans of letters addressed to the inventor by a Theosophist, and a Reed College archivist traded photos and facts about lecturer Pieter K. Roest, who helped write the postwar constitution of Japan.

Books are one of the material benefits coming out of assisting researchers. Each author prints an acknowledgement, "Courtesy of the Theosophical Society in America Archives," adding to our name recognition and leading future researchers to our resources. Authors donate copies of their works, which become available in our national library.

 Theosophical Society - Cinema of the Occult    Theosophical Society - The Autobiography of Irving K. Pond    Theosophical Society - Truth Seeker by Roderick Bradford    Theosophical Society - The Open Door: The Order of Women Freemasons

 

Theosophical Society - Ilse and Franklin GetzGenealogical research can be very rewarding. Often a member simply wants to know when or whether a deceased relative was also a member, but archival materials can also bring healing across miles and decades. Stephan, an East German scholar, e-mailed asking whether his great-aunt Ilse Getz had been a member of the Society. As a matter of fact, in the mid-1930s, when Nazism was on the rise in Germany, Ilse and her husband Franklin (figure 6) immigrated to the United States. After being welcomed into the Society by members of the Oak Park (Illinois) Lodge, they moved to the headquarters campus in Wheaton, where he became a bookkeeper and she worked in the kitchen. The young couple lost contact with their families during World War II, and could not resume communication in the years of communism in East Germany. Stephan visited our campus to see where Ilse had found a home. Membership records, old issues of The American Theosophist, papers from the Oak Park Lodge, and photographs of our staff told her story. Stephan's grandmother had never known what happened to her dear sister, and the family was thrilled to see photographs of Ilse and Franklin from the 1940s, young and happy. Stephan wrote, "Your efforts reopened a lost past. Since yesterday there are and will be again people who look at the photos of this couple with deep emotional involvement and the intention to remember and explore their lives."

History at this individual level has proved compelling to some of our youngest volunteers in the archives. Several high school students helped me sort correspondence from 1946 concerning a massive project to ship parcels to needy European Theosophists. The teenagers were amazed to read accounts of harrowing wartime experiences along with appeals for thread, shoelaces, and soap (figure 7). They made earnest efforts to read letters written in French and German and urged me to scan the documents for a Web page. I was struck by the power of the past to engage young hearts.

     Our archival collections have materials that are found nowhere else. When Ananda College in Sri Lanka planned its 125th anniversary celebration, we were able to assist the college's Old Boys Association with scans of school periodicals and papers from 1914-17, when Fritz Kunz served as principal. No other archives could provide that little slice of history, and it is pure pleasure to be able to share items that have been neglected for decades.

     Working as the TSA archivist carries me in directions that I never anticipated. I have new acquaintances in Siberia, Portugal, South Africa, Israel, New Zealand, Sweden, and many other countries. Daily I am discovering the depth and breadth of Theosophical influence in the world, and I try to bring it to light in displays, writings, and presentations. Web displays will be featured in the near future, and work is progressing on an on-line encyclopedia.

     Theosophists who want to keep our history vibrant can help in many ways. Members of lodges, other local groups, and Theosophical families should consider how their own records are stored. Keep programs, clippings, membership rosters, and correspondence, in addition to legal papers. Remember to take lots of photographs, including action shots, and label them with names and dates. During our 2012 Summer National Gathering, scholar Michael Gomes will be conducting a workshop on how to write a lodge history, so you can follow his guidance in documenting your own group. Consider having a work-study visit here at the Olcott campus to assist in scanning documents, identifying people in old photographs, writing research articles, and developing displays. Interview your older members, and send World War II memoirs to the archives as a contribution to an upcoming book about wartime experiences.

Always remember that the TSA archives and the Henry S. Olcott Memorial Library have resources that can aid your studies, and that we appreciate your assistance in providing resources for future theosophists. Contact the Archives at archives@theosophical.org or 630-668-1571, extension 353.


Theosophical Society - Janet Kerschner joined the Theosophical Society in America staff in 2006 and serves as archivist. She has a graduate degree in library science and is a member of the Academy of Certified Archivists. Among many other projects, Janet is currently working on a book about Theosophists during World War II.Janet Kerschner joined the Theosophical Society in America staff in 2006 and serves as archivist. She has a graduate degree in library science and is a member of the Academy of Certified Archivists. Among many other projects, Janet is currently working on a book about Theosophists during World War II.

 

 


Stewards of Eternity

Printed in the Spring 2012 issue of Quest magazine. Citation: Terpack, Walter. "Stewards of Eternity" Quest  100. 2 (Spring 2012): pg. 56-58.

By Walter Terpack 

My grandmother would use the word "terrific" to describe bumper-to-bumper traffic, as in the song "There's No Place Like Home for the Holidays." Here "terrific" was close to its original meaning of "to cause terror." While that may have been adorable with her Bronx accent, in my generation the word has come to mean something closer to the opposite of what she described. When my parents commented on my soccer performances throughout my youth, if they said I'd had a terrific game, instead of basking in apparent praise, perhaps I should have asked them to be more specific.

We recognize these forms of verbal evolution from their context and we alter our word choices accordingly. It's not just words and their definitions that evolve but also our understanding of a concept and its importance. "Love" and "joy" have meant the same thing for centuries. What has changed, possibly even evolved, is our understanding of their role as determined by the human psyche and their rare distinctions of being singular, without opposite, in describing states of unalloyed conscious presence.

Few people unfamiliar with Theosophy would imagine that the process of evolution might be anything more than incidental. Some, particularly Western, societies and religions have themselves evolved into institutions that try to convince man that he is a lowly sinner with no hand in his own evolution. They seem to prefer to have him believe that life and circumstances are beyond personal influence and the things that happen to us are simply God's will or the events of life, which some naively assert are unfair.

As Theosophists, we are encouraged to be aware of a more personal type of evolution. In a sense, we are all agricultural scientists, or husbandmen, selecting traits in ourselves, cultivating and nurturing them. Though the word "husbandman" seems outdated and exclusive of women as a synonym for "farmer," it hints at a nurturing quality more commonly found in the female. Agrarian Wendell Berry, in his essay "The Unsettling of America," tells us, "The farmer, or husbandman, is by definition half mother." We know that a farmer owns, operates, or works on a farm or pays for the right to collect revenue or profits from its production. The husbandman, however, is concerned with the general management of domestic affairs and resources. The word "husbandman" implies responsibility and accountability, not only for production, but for ensuring that it's not at the expense of future production.

While a husbandman is usually concerned with crops and stock and their conversion to edible products, in order to evolve we require spiritual sustenance and tools. We are stewards of eternity, learning from experience to recognize what must be sacrificed for a greater good, keeping in mind the laws of nature and the demands of nurture.

Like plants, we are rooted in our environment. Unlike plants, we can choose to take evolution into our own hands. John Algeo, past president of the Theosophical Society in America, shares a fundamental concept in his study guide Theosophy: An Introductory Course: "The process of evolution, which begins by unconscious impulse, must eventually become a conscious process directed by the free will and ever increasing self-awareness of the evolving entities. The conscious participation by human beings in evolutionary change is symbolized as walking a path." Theosophy, the wisdom tradition, guides and inspires us to take the next step along the path. Throughout history, human beings have faced challenges unique to their respective eras, despite innovative technological advances. Yet this perennial philosophy, as it is so aptly called, remains an effective cauldron for transmuting the ills of any epoch into spiritual progress. When we follow the Theosophical road map and take the three routes recommended to us—study, meditation, and service—we can come to know our dharma, or what nature's aim may ultimately be for us.

For the spiritual aspirant as for the husbandman, study of one's craft is imperative. In order to prepare ourselves for so arduous a journey, plotting a course is as important as having a destination. History has given us stories and lessons from messengers blessed with wisdom and providing us with seeds for thought, transformation, joy, inspiration, love, forgiveness, and healing. As we study the lives of the adepts and Mahatmas and immerse ourselves in spiritual traditions, we become more capable of directing our own evolution. These Masters have already sown their seeds and reaped their harvests, and they have saved the seeds from those harvests in order to pass on to us knowledge that might save us whole seasons of ignorance and frustration.

For the husbandman, the act of cultivation is indispensable to progress. Preparing a seedbed by eliminating all unwanted vegetative growth capable of stealing water or nutrients from the intended crop is akin to our meditation practice. Daily we stake out an intention along with an allocation of time. During this time we sit; we are thorough yet gentle in our cultivation. Beneficent intentions are felt, pondered, and embraced at the altar of our higher Self. Anything detrimental to our goals is abandoned where it lies, or better yet, cast aside to the compost pile of doubts, fears, and worries. This is contemporary alchemy, where the elevated vibrancy of our meditation heats up, transmuting bad habits, character flaws, and past "sins" into beneficial constituent elements, which contribute to the fertility of our personal potential. At the end of the session, we are gifted with a fertile patch of Eden. There will be days when we sit, but only end up having wrestled with vines or itchy from poison ivy. These too are days when we become wiser and stronger from the exertion.

"The key to the advancement of human evolution is a dedication by the individual to the service of others, that is, altruism—an awareness of brotherly unity and a forgetfulness of personal separateness." John Algeo again, this time with practical encouragement to step into the stream leading back to the One. As we align ourselves with spiritual ideals, we naturally become less aware of ourselves and more aware of others. When, in addition to meditation, study, and service, we participate in life with a grateful heart, we become more capable of recognizing the many faces of suffering. Less self-involvement affords us more time and opportunity to be of assistance to those who need it. On an evolutionary trail, there will naturally be representatives of different levels of spiritual maturity. We speak of the Mahatmas on one side of the evolutionary scale, but along the rest of the scale, there are those who cannot thrive without the love, compassion, and support that others might provide. "In the theosophical context," Robert Ellwood, past vice-president of the TSA, tells us, "service is work done for the benefit of others, whether human or beast, and thus an expression of compassion and a ‘push' along the evolutionary trail upward." We apply what we have garnered through meditation and study to the service of others. Just an inch of water here or a topdressing of compost there can make all the difference in a world where small gestures have immeasurable impact.

There are pitfalls to evolution when attempts are made to shortcut nature or proceed with a limited, self-interested perspective. Most obvious are those seen in agriculture. By the process of adaptation, strains of plants or trees become capable of withstanding previously unfavorable conditions by slowly overcoming challenges, such as climate, soil pH, and the availability of water and other nutrients. Even plants grown in a greenhouse require a period of "hardening off" or else they will be susceptible to the cool air of spring, wind, and direct sunlight. When done naturally and incrementally, most living things will adapt into hardier organisms, better equipped to survive or thrive in a new environment. Genetic alteration and chemical treatment for the purpose of disrupting natural processes have less predictable, potentially disastrous results. We frequently hear of antibiotic-resistant bacteria or chemical-resistant weed or insect pests, many of which are no longer affected by the application of something which would have devastated them just a few short seasons ago. Coexisting peacefully, in full partnership with nature, is assuredly a wiser option. There is a guarantee of basic health in ecological systems where Nature becomes teacher.

We have been introduced by birth into a system so beautifully evolved that we can use any challenge available to us as an impetus to further ourselves along the course we've chosen. If we take a cue from Nature and realize that some of the richest, most fertile soil for growing will be made up of rotted manure, decomposing vegetation unfit for consumption, and other natural debris, it becomes obvious that nothing was intended to be wasted in this plan. Nothing is trivial; tragedies and mistakes are adorned with lessons and opportunities, and human beings are worthy of their karma and have contributions to make no matter what their station. Life is what impels us along our path, and our lives and communities are filled with teachers who either have wisdom to share or can, even with their faults, make us more tolerant, compassionate, or forgiving. We don't even require teachers who know more than we do! There is no shortage of events in our lives that couldn't inspire us to consider our own personal evolution. These are the gifts that resonate within us and confirm our divinity.

Making a conscious choice to step onto a path has its practical applications. Many of us have known what it's like to live the alternative—a life where one responds unconsciously to the circumstances which were creations of a life lived unconsciously. The detours along such a course may lead to depression or dysfunction. Fortunately for the suffering traveler, these places have an alarm clock–like ability to wake us from our reactive slumber. Aspiring to our destiny, we evolve mindfully, aware of consequences, with the understanding that love, compassion, and forgiveness bear real fruit, true to their seeds.

Personal evolution and the development of character begin with thoughts, which manifest as acts, and develop into habits. When we consider the many instances we interact with others in a typical day, we can take small, incremental, but sure-footed evolutionary steps by facing our dharma and responding appropriately. 

References 

Algeo, John. Theosophy: An Introductory Study Course. Wheaton: Theosophical Society in America, 2006.

Berry, Wendell. "The Unsettling of America." In The Art of the Commonplace: The Agrarian Essays of Wendell Berry. Washington, D.C.: Shoemaker & Hoard, 2002.

Ellwood, Robert. Theosophy: A Modern Expression of the Wisdom of the Ages. Wheaton: Quest, 1986.


Walter Terpack studies Theosophy, endeavoring to apply its principle toward personal transformation and healing. He is a native of New Jersey and a participant in the TS's prison outreach program.

The Theosophical Society in America provides information on Theosophy to prisoners through pamphlets, books, and correspondence courses. Many prisoners become members of the TSA due to the sense of purpose and direction that the teachings provide. If you would like to participate as a mentor in the prison program, please contact the National Secretary at 1-800-669-1571, ext. 301.


Does God Evolve?

Printed in the Spring 2012 issue of Quest magazine. Citation: Mereton, Philip. "Does God Evolve?" Quest  100. 2 (Spring 2012): pg. 56-58.

By Philip Mereton

Theosophical Society - Philip Mereton is a practicing lawyer with a philosophy degree who lives with his wife and daughter in Glen Ellyn, Illinois.  He is the author of The Heaven at the End of Science: An Argument for a New Worldview of Hope.One popular approach to dealing with the diversity of religions is to adopt the view that each one—from Hinduism, Buddhism, and Taoism to Judaism, Christianity, and Islam—lays claim to its own spiritual world. No one religion has a monopoly on truth, enlightenment, or access to a supreme being. Given the diversity of faiths, a goal might be to seek understanding through a dialogue between followers of different belief systems while retaining a commitment to one's own faith. (See Harvard's Pluralism Project, whose stated mission is "to help Americans engage with the realities of religious diversity through research, outreach, and the active dissemination of resources": pluralism.org.) In this spirit, the Dalai Lama writes about a "true kinship of faiths," whereby followers of the world's religions are urged to seek a higher ground built upon compassion and understanding.

Pluralism and "kinship of faiths" models offer an attractive option for convincing those of different faiths that what joins religions—reverence for a higher ground of being—is much deeper than what divides them. Yet the "kinship of faiths" model also has a serious drawback. It assumes that both God and religious systems are static and unchanging, like a human being who has been transmogrified into the stone shape of a praying figure. This view assumes that, in contrast to even the lowest of life forms, God or Spirit does not itself evolve.

What I would like to suggest in this article is something radically different—that religious systems are not static and that God is an evolving being.

In the first place, what do I mean when I say that religious systems are not static? I mean that all religions strive for an endpoint—moksha (liberation from the wheel of rebirth) to Hindus, nirvana to Buddhists, harmony with the Way for Taoists, and the arrival of a messiah or Judgment Day for the Abrahamic religions. So let's suppose that at some point, prayers are answered, and enlightenment is reached or revelation is concluded. This presupposes, at the very least, that the perspectives of the world religions as they exist now are incomplete and subject to growth and change over the course of time.

 Let's next suppose that God is not a static, unchanging Being, but rather the ground of being that itself is evolving through time. From this perspective, we can view history in a Hegelian sense, and see that humans over time evolve spiritually in alignment with the evolution of God.

If, as the Upanishads teach, the individual self (Atman) is God (Brahman), then perhaps individual people express the forms of God over time. We then have two parallel tracks: God, or the one mind, evolves through time to recognize that it encompasses all reality. From the perspective of the individual, people evolve spiritually through time to realize they are God, collectively and individually. The human form is thus a physical reflection of God's struggle to understand itself and the world.

Some may believe that since God is infinite, it already possesses all possible qualities, so there is nothing for it to evolve into. This abstract thought, however, may ignore reality and disparage the very object of reverence. If there is a God, it is alive, and, like all living things, it cannot help but learn and grow with time and experience.

The supposition that Spirit evolves with time is a cornerstone of the idealist philosophy of the German philosopher G. W. F. Hegel (1770-1831) and others. In his History of Philosophy, Hegel wrote, "Everything that from eternity has happened in heaven and earth, the life of God and all the deeds of time simply are the struggles for Spirit to know itself, to find itself, be for itself, and finally unite itself to itself." The objective of world history, according to Hegel, is for Spirit to know itself as encompassing all reality; the "history of the world, with all the changing scenes which its annals present, is this process of development and the realization of Spirit—this is the true Theodicea, the justification of God in History...what has happened, and is happening every day, is not only not ‘without God,' but is essentially his Work."

These ideas are echoed by other thinkers. For the Indian philosopher Sri Aurobindo (1872-1950), man is a being in transition to a higher form of existence; over time he climbs the ladder of consciousness from Higher Mind and Illumined Mind to Supermind and Overmind. Along the way, the rising consciousness molds new physical forms (or species) and with this expanding awareness eventually carries out a divine life on earth. For the French philosopher Pierre Teilhard de Chardin (1881-1955), evolution is synonymous with the rise in consciousness. Drawn upward by the Omega Point (resembling the Christian God), consciousness continues its ascent as it converges toward God and world unity.

 In the process philosophy of the English philosopher Alfred North Whitehead (1861-1947), time and change rather than things represent the fundamental reality. God is both the source and the end of the cosmic process. To Whitehead, "God is the infinite ground of all mentality, the unity of vision seeking physical multiplicity. The World is the multiplicity of finites, actualities seeking a perfect unity."

The thought that Spirit evolves in time may seem abstract and otherworldly, but the point is actually simple. I mean that if God (or the underlying ground of being) is a creative force, or mind, then it cannot help but grow, mature, and evolve with time. Let's try two examples.

Imagine a child prodigy who, at sixteen years old, plays the violin better than all of the great masters. She controls the instrument and plays it as if the course of history led to her having the violin in her hands. But over time she practices, learns from experience, and gains greater mastery. The creative force changes and improves with time. She was a master at age sixteen, a better one at twenty-six, and so on. Creativity and talent, even when unlimited, improve when driven through the grindstone of experience.

Here is another example. Who will be better at predicting the technology of 2020—a futurist in the 1890s or one in the 1990s? Even though the earlier futurist may have had a virtually unlimited imagination, the later futurist has the benefit of a hundred years of technology to stimulate the same imagination. The deeper into the future the mind travels, the more it knows more about what the future may bring.

Now imagine God as an evolving Spirit or mind moving in time and adopting different physical forms. Is this an odd thought? Not really. This viewpoint matches up well with the concepts of reincarnation or rebirth integral to Hinduism and Buddhism. Under these concepts, upon death of a physical body the inner soul reemerges to undertake a new bodily form. This process of rebirth continues until the Hindu reaches moksha or the Buddhist attains nirvana.

Viewing God as an evolving Being—with humans acting out this process of evolution in physical form—furnishes a basis for reconciling the world's religions. With this assumption, we can interpret the great religious texts, such as the Bible, Qur'an, and Upanishads, in a new light. In these texts, the authors are simply articulating the word of God as God understands itself at that time.

This means, for instance, that the Qur'an would be the word of God spoken to Muhammad, but in the language and mind-set of Spirit's stage of evolution at that point in history. The same would be true for the Old and New Testaments. Under this interpretation, Jesus Christ becomes, like Moses and Muhammad, a voice of the one mind of God who brings a message of peace to the earth.

From this perspective, we can see a flaw in current religious orthodoxy. It is often assumed, for example, that when Muhammad articulated the word of God in the Qur'an this literal message would hold for all eternity, as if it were engraved in stone tablets handed down from heaven. But if God is viewed as an evolving Spirit, with Muhammad as a messenger, then the Qur'an simply represents God's understanding of itself at a specific time in history.

Is this view blasphemous? How so? It simply acknowledges that an infinite Spirit itself evolves through time, coincident with the spiritual world of people. To read any religious text as the final word of God overlooks the fact that God itself is never "final," never complete, but always moving through history.

Eastern religions furnish a different perspective on the same theme. For example, Buddhists believe that life is suffering caused by an unhealthy attachment to the material world. The goal of life then becomes to achieve a release from this attachment and enter into the flow of eternal becoming. But the Buddha lived in a world of suffering, and his spiritual insight took him only as far as his place in history would allow. If escaping the world of rebirth means to dwell eternally in the world of nonphysical Spirit, then the natural question is, what is the purpose of the physical world? Under this new picture of God as an evolving Spirit, the goal is to escape the wheel of rebirth by escaping death itself: the one mind of God finally comes to understand itself and realizes it not only encompasses all reality, but also is at the source of reality. God comes down to earth as the man-god.

Thus, if we place the founders of the world's great religions in time and overlay their teachings and revelations against the backdrop of a God evolving in time, we come upon a different way to unite religions. Each faith, it turns out, expresses the mind of God trying to understand itself as it strives for complete knowledge and enlightenment; but each faith can reach only as far as God's level of maturity and knowledge can take it at a given point. If this approach is on the right track, we would expect humankind gradually to draw in the Spirit of God, to move away from projecting God as an outside power and, consistent with other evolutionary philosophies, eventually reach the point where it consciously carries out the life of God on earth. 

Each faith ascends the same mountain but along a different path. At the top of the mountain, we find not separate spiritual worlds, but a place for all faiths under the sky of the evolving mind of God.


Philip Mereton is a practicing lawyer with a philosophy degree who lives with his wife and daughter in Glen Ellyn, Illinois.  He is the author of The Heaven at the End of Science: An Argument for a New Worldview of Hope. He can be reached at philipmereton@yahoo.com.


Joy Mills: An Evolutionary Journey

Printed in the Spring 2012 issue of Quest magazine. 
Citation: Overweg, Cynthia. "Joy Mills: An Evolutionary Journey
" Quest  100. 2 (Spring 2012): pg. 50-55.

by Cynthia Overweg 

Theosophical Society - Joy Mills was an educator who served as President of the Theosophical Society in America from 1965–1974, and then as international Vice President for the Theosophical Society based in Adyar     Joy Mills is a dearly loved teacher and author and has served as national president of both the American and Australian Sections, as well as international vice-president, of the Theosophical Society. She was instrumental in the creation of Quest Books, the publishing imprint of the Theosophical Society in America, and has traveled the world giving lectures and seminars. In January 2011, she was awarded the Subba Row Medal, which recognizes outstanding contributions to Theosophical literature and understanding.

Over several weeks of interviews during the spring and summer of 2011, Joy openly shared the ups and downs of her life story, hoping it might resonate with others who seek meaning and purpose. The following is woven from many afternoons of conversations about her life and work at her home at the Krotona Institute of Theosophy in Ojai, California. 

As she traveled through the foothills of northern India, the breathtaking beauty of the western Himalayas was a sight to behold. The mountains were magically iridescent in the midday sun, and she could hardly contain her excitement. The year was 1972, and Joy Mills was on her way to Dharamsala to meet His Holiness the Dalai Lama at his residence-in-exile. It was a great honor for the Theosophical Society, and she could scarcely believe her good fortune.

     The rendezvous was the result of Joy's idea to publish the Dalai Lama's book Opening of the Wisdom-Eye, which up to that point had appeared only in south Asia. Traveling with her on this memorable journey was her good friend and colleague, Helen Zahara, who was senior editor of Quest Books."We were able to get the rights to publish the Dalai Lama's book, and since we already had a trip planned to Adyar, Helen and I wondered if we could meet with his Holiness," Joy recalls. They made arrangements through the Office of Tibet in New York, flew into Delhi, took the train north, and then hired a taxi to take them to Dharamsala.

     When they arrived at the Dalai Lama's home, they barely had a moment to gather their thoughts when his Holiness greeted them with what Joy describes as 'that wonderful smile." She recalls that Helen made the statement that H.P. Blavatsky had introduced the inner side of Buddhism to the Western world. "What did she write?" asked the Dalai Lama.

"The Voice of the Silence," Helen answered. Directing his next question to Joy, he asked, "What is the essence of The Voice of the Silence?" At first, Joy couldn't think. She wondered how she could express the book in a brief way. 'Well," she said finally,"it discusses the Paramitas," the six 'perfections" of Mahayana Buddhism. The Dalai Lama seemed genuinely excited. "Ah, then it is accurate. It is true." Joy was thrilled to be able to introduce the Dalai Lama to HPB's great little book, and the meeting is one of her most cherished memories.

     Joy was fifty-two years old when she first met the Dalai Lama. She is now ninety-one. Nothing in her formative years could have predicted that one day she would arrive at the Dalai Lama's doorstep representing the Theosophical Society. While her life is rich with accomplishments and service, there also has been hardship and neglect. The road that ultimately led her to Theosophy and to a profound respect for Buddhism, particularly the Dzogchen teaching of Tibetan Buddhism, began when she was a child.

     When Joy was born in Lakewood, Ohio, in 1920, the world was still recovering from the devastation of World War I, and America was just beginning its rise as an economic and military powerhouse. American women had finally won the right to vote only two months before Joy's birth.

      Joy's father was an engineer and her mother a schoolteacher. Her early life wasn't unusual until a family tragedy turned it upside down. When she was eight years old, Joy was confronted with a pivotal question: what happens after death? Her mother, Mary Conger, died of a massive heart attack at the age of forty-nine. Her father conveyed the sad news to Joy in one simple statement: "Mama has died." Very little was said between father and daughter on that shattering day in May 1929. As Joy knelt at her mother's bedside, it looked as though her mother was merely asleep, but there was a sad acceptance hanging in the air. 'I leaned over to kiss her cheek and she was cold. It was my first impression of the temporary nature of physical life."

      Her mother's death, Joy recalls, 'triggered a need to better understand what it means to be human. I've learned that if you stay with that question long enough, a much deeper question emerges—it's at the root of our very existence: —Who am I?'"

Not long after her mother's death, Joy got a taste of what that question points to. She was visiting the Ozark mountains in Missouri with her maternal aunt and uncle and three cousins. One day she hiked into the woods on her own, feeling a deep connection with nature and an exhilarating sense of freedom. 'I had an experience in those woods that altered my perception of life," said Joy.

The Ozarks are known for their white oaks and dogwood trees, along with loblolly pines, which can reach over a hundred feet in height. Joy had been walking for a while, absorbing the sights and sounds of the forest. Suddenly she found herself standing in front of a towering tree. "I became aware of the power and life in that tree. Then I became one with the tree. I could have slid right into it." In that instant, she knew that the life in the tree and the life within her were the same life. "At some level, it changed me. It's what HPB calls —direct beholding,' an insight which often comes unbidden, when seeing happens at a deeper level."    

     In October 1929, five months after the death of Joy's mother, a catastrophic stock market crash hit Wall Street. It ushered in the Great Depression and a decade of economic turmoil affecting millions of families. Hard times gave rise to the most difficult turning point of Joy's youth. Her father lost his engineering job and spent most of his time looking for work. Overwhelmed by his circumstances and the demands of being a single parent, he sent her away to live with people she didn't know. "I was boarded out to a family who lived in another school district and saw my father only on weekends. Everything that was familiar was taken away, so I bottled up my feelings and lived in my books. It was my only refuge."

     Two years later, when her father married a much younger woman, he tried reuniting with his daughter, but Joy's stepmother was verbally abusive and neglected her. "I wanted to tell my father, but I was afraid of what would happen, so I just took it." Her father soon realized the reunion he had imagined wasn't going to work out. 'I overheard him tell my paternal aunt and uncle that he might put me in a convent," Joy recalls. 'As an alternative, they offered to adopt me and I heard my father give his consent. I was being given away, and it really hurt."

     Once she was legally adopted, Joy took the surname of her adoptive father and the child who had been baptized as Mary Joy Conger became Joy Mills. At the age of twelve, her life began again with people who took much better care of her. 'I had a lonely and dislocated childhood and never felt like I belonged. I'm not unique in that experience, of course. But I'm grateful that it pushed me inward and forced me to ask a lot of questions about life. It fed my desire to understand why there is so much suffering in the world." 

     By the time Joy was a teenager, she was reading Aristotle and Plato while others her age were at football games or at the local teen hangout."I had a girlfriend at school who loved

discussing philosophy. It filled a void." As she grew older, a question about the concept of freedom emerged. For her as a child, freedom meant being able to ride her bicycle in the open air with the sun shining on her face. Freedom also meant ridding herself of isolation and loneliness.

   "'But I see the world differently now," she says. 'The more we realize the Oneness of all things, the more we realize that freedom is a kind of illusion. The only real genuine freedom is to be free from the desires of a separated self. HPB refers to it as the —obligatory pilgrimage of the soul.' This is our collective evolutionary journey."     

     When Joy graduated from high school in 1937, the country was still in the grips of the Depression and money was tight, but with the help of student loans she was able to go to Milwaukee State Teachers College in Wisconsin. In 1940, when she was a twenty-year-old student, she was introduced to Theosophy by a college friend and joined the Theosophical Society. 'Theosophy made the world comprehensible to me. It fulfilled me in so many ways, and it opened a door to the unseen."

     In June 1941, Joy was graduated with a degree in education and spent the summer working at national headquarters in Wheaton. She tried securing a teaching position for the fall, but nothing materialized. Sydney Cook, who was president of the American Section at the time, asked her what she wanted to do if a job didn't come through. She told him she wanted to go to graduate school. 'He was very kind and generous to me and said he would help." Cook paid half of her postgraduate tuition at the University of Chicago. The other half was paid by a university scholarship.

     When the United States entered World War II in December 1941, some of the university's facilities were turned over to the military. To earn spending money, Joy found herself helping in the war effort. She would get up early in the morning and go into the dining hall, where about a thousand sailors needed to be fed breakfast. 'I would sling hash all morning for the sailors stationed there," she says.

     Joy earned her master's degree in English the following year, and Cook invited her to join the staff at Olcott. 'He asked me to think it over first, but I didn't have to. I knew where I wanted to be." Her first job was to coordinate a correspondence course for new members. The following year, Cook asked her to do some lecture work. 'He wanted to try me out, as it were."

     The plan was to send her to a number of cities in Michigan, where there were local branches of the Society. 'But I had no suitable wardrobe and insufficient money, as staff salaries back then were minimal." So the Olcott staff went shopping in thrift stores on her behalf. 'It was wonderful how they helped me. They found clothing which made me look presentable." For the first time in her life, Joy felt a sense of belonging. She was in an environment at Olcott that nourished body and soul. "I realized I aspired to something greater than myself. I had a mission, and these were my people, my friends. I was home."

As Joy studied The Secret Doctrine and other Theosophical literature, the principle of Oneness stood out ”the Oneness she had experienced as a child in the Ozarks. "HPB always pointed to it. Everything is rooted in and is derived from a source that is One, not multiple. It's more than monistic, it's nondual."

When she became more familiar with the contributions of the Society's founders, her admiration of Henry Olcott and H.P. Blavatsky grew. "Olcott's work for the Buddhist cause is just incredible. He's responsible for the revival of Buddhism as a major cultural force in southeast Asia, and he did that while he was president of the Society. HPB is one of the most remarkable women who ever lived. She brought an ancient teaching to the West, and people from all over the world and in all walks of life have been drawn to it. She reminded us that compassion is —the law of laws.'"    

     During the war years, food, heating oil, and gasoline were rationed. The Olcott staff was given food coupons, and because Olcott is a vegetarian campus, they were allotted more cheese, butter, milk, and other items, since they didn't need the meat coupons. To conserve heating oil, the second-floor offices and the library were closed. 'We drew closer to each other," Joy remembers. 'We were like a family, and for me it was a tremendous feeling. It was the first stable family I'd had in my life."

     At the end of the war, Jim Perkins was elected president of the American Section. Membership had declined sharply, and many members had been lost in the war. 'Jim came up with a program known as Spotlight [SPOT—Speed Popularization of Theosophy] to reinvigorate the Society," says Joy. 'We started in 1946 with six cities in a circuit, and I would give a series of classes for six weeks." It was a very successful program. Joy would rent a hall, usually in a hotel, and run newspaper ads to promote the classes. Over a three-year period, she helped to establish more than one hundred new lodges.

     At age twenty-seven, Joy had already made a significant contribution to the Society's growth in the postwar years. She loved the work and loved Olcott, but felt it was time to earn a bit more money and start putting away some savings. In 1948, she accepted a teaching position in Seattle. 'It was difficult leaving Olcott, but I wasn't leaving Theosophy; I was going into the profession I had trained for." She taught U.S. history at West Seattle High School. 'I tried to make history come alive for my students. I wanted them to be critical thinkers and not buy into the media's way of presenting the world."

     During this time Joy remained very active in the Society, becoming president of the Northwest Federation. Seven years later, Perkins needed an editor for The American Theosophist (predecessor to today's Quest), so at his invitation she returned to Olcott. 'I fell in love with the beauty of the Northwest, but going back to Wheaton felt like the right thing to do." She took over the department of education at Olcott in 1955 and from that point forward dedicated her life exclusively to the Society.

     In 1960, Henry Smith was elected president and asked Joy to run as vice-president. She agreed, but five years later he resigned, and Joy became acting president. In 1966, she was overwhelmingly elected president and served in that position until 1974. Her tenure as president of the American Section was one of the most productive in the Society's history. With the help of the Kern Foundation, Joy launched Quest Books, a seminal achievement for the Society. As Quest grew, she led a fundraising effort for the construction of a publications building to house its expansion. The building now bears her name.

     Joy served as president during a time of great unrest, when the Vietnam War and the civil rights movement provoked violent clashes on the streets of American cities and awakened millions of people to a need for social justice and equality. "I wrote some rather strong editorials suggesting that we have a responsibility to speak up—to take a stand for brotherhood. It was controversial at the time because while some members agreed with brotherhood in theory, in practice they accepted segregation."

     At one point Joy was criticized for joining a local chapter of the NAACP (National Association for the Advancement of Colored People). "While we can't involve the Society in politics," she points out, 'we can speak up individually on matters of conscience, and that's what I did. The founders stood for human dignity and equality, and Annie Besant was a great champion of that. Brotherhood has been an object of the Society from its beginning, and it states very clearly that all peoples are brothers, or it means nothing at all."

     The word "brotherhood" stirs controversy for some members because it can be interpreted to exclude women and girls. 'We know it refers to everyone, but I wish we could have a gender-free language," says Joy. 'We live in a world with a dim awareness of how language labels people or leaves them out entirely. In some ways, we need a new language which overcomes that—and language does evolve."

     Near the end of her third term as president of the American Section, the Society's beloved international president, N. Sri Ram, passed away. When John Coats was elected to take up Sri Ram's position, he nominated Joy to become international vice-president. She left Wheaton in 1974 and went to live in Adyar, serving in that post for six years. 'When I was on the plane going to Adyar from Chicago, I had that old feeling of being without a home again. But I love India, and the adjustment to living there came easily." While she was in Adyar, she met the Dalai Lama for a second time when His Holiness was the featured speaker at the Society's international conference in 1975. "John and I had the privilege of having tea with His Holiness," she recalls.

     In 1980, Joy was invited by Anne Green, then resident head of the Krotona Institute of Theosophy, to become director of the Krotona School. "That really appealed to me because it meant getting back into what I love most—education and teaching." Joy reinvigorated educational programs at Krotona, establishing a legacy of excellence. Twelve years later, in 1992, the search committee of the Australian Section asked her to run for president of that Section. Joy was ready for another challenge and was elected by a wide margin.

     She returned to Krotona in 1996, where she now lives, to take up residence as teacher, lecturer, and author. Over the past seventy-two years, Joy has traveled to sixty countries, teaching through seminars and lecture tours and nourishing countless Theosophical students. She is a role model to many others who seek her counsel and advice. She has authored several outstanding books, including the recently published Reflections on an Ageless Wisdom: A Commentary on the Mahatma Letters to A.P. Sinnett. Her other books include The One True Adventure: Theosophy and the Quest for Meaning; One Hundred Years of Theosophy; and Entering on the Sacred Way.

     Joy never married, although sixty years ago she considered the possibility. "He was a good man, a Theosophist, but I needed my freedom. The work was all-absorbing to me, and I would have been a terrible housewife."

As she glances through her living room window at her favorite oak tree, Joy is reminded of the experience she had many years earlier in the woods of the Ozarks. 'You can look at a tree and see firewood, or you can see a living presence with a purpose and intelligence of its own."

     Joy then returns to the theme of Oneness and the evolutionary journey to a better understanding of what it means to be human. "The mind likes to separate —me' from —other." We need to be aware of that because it brings us back to the fundamental question: —Who am I?" And that question evolves as you evolve. As HPB said in so many different ways, once we have felt compassion for another living being, we have begun to awaken to the purpose and meaning of existence. That is the essence of Theosophy."    


Cynthia Overweg is a journalist, playwright, and documentary filmmaker. She has written for the Ventura County Star and the Los Angeles Times. Her plays have been produced in Los Angeles, New York, and Pennsylvania, including an award-winning play based on the life of H.P. Blavatsky. She was a war correspondent and photographer during the Balkan War, traveling with Save the Children and United Nations relief organizations to produce a documentary film on the effects of war on children. Her other documentaries include The Great Bronze Age of China, which aired on PBS.


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