A SAMPLE OF HINDU PHILOSOPHY.
By W. A. Spicer
THE teaching of so-called “Christian Science” as to the unreality of matter, is but a revival of the old Vedanta philosophy of Hinduism. It is difficult to speak of the philosophy of Hinduism, for, as has been well said, the religious writings of India “belong to the realm of myth-making and of poetizing, rather than to that of philosophy.” There is a philosophy of a certain kind, however. It is very similar, in its avoidance of all that concerns practical life, to the systems of the fighting schoolmen of the Dark Ages, who left the people to perish in Europe while they discussed subtleties which only an unbalanced mind could compass. They learnedly reasoned about nothings, while at the same time the folk-lore stories of the former days, interwoven with legends of the saints, were serious literature. The epic sacred poems of the Hindus are on a level with the fairy tales of the childhood of Europe. The one system of interpretation of their sacred literature that can assume to be a philosophy, holds that the universe is an illusion. On thru mazy arguments it discusses the mysterious meaning of the words in the “Great Sentence,” “Thou art That,” and of the corresponding assertion, “That art Thou.” Meanwhile the people perished, and knew nothing whatever of religion save as a system of charms and sacrifices to keep off evil spirits. The idea is that Brahma is the great essence, and that all else is non-existent. He is the magician who spins the non-existent matter out of himself. How possibly Brahma can find pleasure in producing illusions when there is nobody to be deluded by them but himself, is a hard question; but the system of philosophy maintains that “unreasonableness is no objection.” How thoroly this Hindu philosopher affects to do away with personality may be best shown by an illustration from one of the sacred books. One Nidagha is watching the arrival of a prince who is entering a city. A stranger approaches. “Tell me,” said the stranger, “which is here the king, and which is any other man.” “The king,” he replied, “is he who is seated on the elephant; the others are his attendants.” “Tell me, venerable sir, which is the king and which is the elephant.” “The elephant,” answered Nidagha, “is underneath; the king is above him.” “What is meant by underneath, and what is termed above?” Upon this Nidagha, thinking doubtless to try a simpler form of argument with the stranger, jumped upon him and said:— “I am above, like the rajah; you are underneath, like the elephant.” “Very well,” said the stranger, “tell me which of us two is you; which is I.” “When Nidagha heard these words,” says the sacred book, “he5immediately fell at the feet of the stranger, and said, ‘Of a surety, thou art my saintly preceptor Ribhu; the mind of no other person is so fully imbued with the doctrine of unity as that of my teacher.’” The man who argued after this fashion would usually be set down as a bit weak mentally. But this is the height of reason after the philosophy of the Vedanta. The old Sanscrit word for truth meant, “That which is.” It is a good definition. Truth is the enduring reality. False systems of philosophy have ever been trying to deny that which is. Leaving the practical living of the life of God which is in every man, this kind of philosophy, often called theology, speculates and spins webs of reasonings so vain that the mind reels in trying to fix itself for the moment upon vacancy. The mental attitude best calculated to lead the mind into the understanding of these subtleties is abstraction. One way of inducing pure abstraction, fit state for the contemplation of nothing, is to look steadily at the crossed fingers or at the point of the nose, and think of nothing. Christianity’s joyful message brings something to think of, the practical reality of sin and salvation, life and death, and a judgment now at hand, a God-ordered work for these days, and a soon-coming Saviour. W. A. SPICER.