~Seyyed Hossein Nasr
One alone is the Dawn beaming over all this.
It is the One that severally becomes all this.
Rg-Veda, VIII, 58:2
The nameless [Tao] is the beginning of Heaven and Earth,
The named [Tao] is the mother of ten thousand things.
Tao Te Ching, ch.1
In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God,
and the Word was God.
Gospel of John, 1:1
But His command, when He intendeth a thing, is only that He saith
unto it: “Be!” and it is.
Quran, 36:81
When we turn to the sacred scriptures of various religions, we discover that in every case the origin of the cosmos and of man is identified as a Reality which is conscious and in fact constitutes consciousness understood on the highest level as absolute Consciousness, which is transcendent and yet the source of all consciousness in the cosmic realm including our own. Furthermore the “in the beginning” is understood not only as belonging to the past but also to the present moment which is the eternal now. That is why “in the beginning” must also be understood as “in principle” as the Latin translation of the opening verse of the Gospel of John asserts, “in principia erat verbum.” Whether we speak of Allah who commands things to be and they are, or the Tao, or the Word by which all things were made, or Brahman, we are speaking of Consciousness of an ever-living and present and this truth is made especially explicit in Hinduism where the principial Reality which is the source of all things is described as at once Being, Consciousness and Ecstasy. Nor is this unanimity of vision of the Origin of all things as identified with consciousness confined to sacred scriptures. Both Oriental and traditional Western philosophers speak of the same truth. The tò Agathon of Plato is not only the Supreme Good but also supreme awareness of the Good, and nous or intellect, so central to Greek philosophy, is of course inseparable from consciousness. Islamic philosophers consider being to be inseparable from knowledge and therefore awareness, and consider cosmic levels of existence also to be levels of knowledge and awareness. As for Hinduism, in its worldview the existence of a thing, even a rock, is also a state of consciousness.
One can then assert safely that in the traditional world there was unanimity concerning the priority of consciousness in relation to what we call “matter” today. The Reality which is seen by all these traditional religions and philosophies to be the origin of things both temporally and in principle is also Supreme Consciousness and can only be reached when human beings are able to elevate their own level of consciousness. Even in Buddhism, which does not speak of an objective Supreme Reality and of cosmogenesis as understood in the Abrahamic and Iranian religions as well as Hinduism, nirvana is the supreme state of consciousness and Buddhahood is also inseparable from consciousness. The only exception to this unanimous traditional view in the old days was to be found in certain anti-metaphysical philosophies of the late Antiquity accompanying the death throes of Hellenistic and Roman civilizations and in certain marginal schools of ancient India which were thoroughly rejected by the mainstream orthodox schools of Hindu thought.
Posts tonen met het label Sacred Tradition. Alle posts tonen
Posts tonen met het label Sacred Tradition. Alle posts tonen
What Thirst is For
~M. Ali Lakhani
It is good knowing that glasses are to drink from.
The bad thing is not knowing what thirst is for.
[Antonio Machado]
Whoever is desireless, sees the essence of life.
Whoever desires, sees its manifestations.
These two are the same.
[Tao Te Ching]
Man is compounded of both dust and spirit, and, like all creatures, he is covenanted concurrently to both time and eternity. This simultaneity, this admixture, inheres within the very fabric of creation and existence, of revelation itself. To exist is to be and, at the same time, not to be. Growth is a form of evanescence, dying a form of being born. Existence is now and, in a certain sense, forever. Form conceals essence, being resides within becoming, stasis abides in the heart of movement, reality is both present and fleeting, both beyond and within. And in this complexio oppositorum lies the paradox and ambiguity of spiritual expression: divine utterances, ourselves included, contain ineffable meanings. Words proclaim Silence.
It is this same ambiguity that clouds the nature of desire - a cloud of ambiguity which only the rays of the Intellect - the supernal Sun - can disperse. This is the ambiguity of Maya, the ambiguity of the Cosmic Veil. And at the heart of this ambiguity lies a choice given to all of mankind: to seek the fulfilment of one's desires in the beatific vision of the Sun’s heavenly Light or to seek it in the tumult of the shadows.
From a metaphysical standpoint, privation and proximity, transcendence and immanence, the mystery of the Absolute and the radiance of the Infinite, are each embedded within the very structure of Reality. It is our "ontological distance from God" that constitutes our privation, and the possibility of our "ontological re-integration" within God that constitutes our proximity. "Things are in God and God is in things with a kind of discontinuous continuity" (Schuon), and Reality is therefore translucent with the radiance of God. Creation is understood in traditional thought to be a Veil through which - and in which - God is metaphysically transparent. Insofar as creation is separate from God, man is ontologically distant from the source of his existence and from the object of his salvation, which remains ever transcendent, mysterious, beyond reach. Yet, insofar as creation is a theophany, radiating the immanence of God, man - made in the image of God - has within him both the means and end of the fulfilment of his desires.
It is good knowing that glasses are to drink from.
The bad thing is not knowing what thirst is for.
[Antonio Machado]
Whoever is desireless, sees the essence of life.
Whoever desires, sees its manifestations.
These two are the same.
[Tao Te Ching]
Man is compounded of both dust and spirit, and, like all creatures, he is covenanted concurrently to both time and eternity. This simultaneity, this admixture, inheres within the very fabric of creation and existence, of revelation itself. To exist is to be and, at the same time, not to be. Growth is a form of evanescence, dying a form of being born. Existence is now and, in a certain sense, forever. Form conceals essence, being resides within becoming, stasis abides in the heart of movement, reality is both present and fleeting, both beyond and within. And in this complexio oppositorum lies the paradox and ambiguity of spiritual expression: divine utterances, ourselves included, contain ineffable meanings. Words proclaim Silence.
It is this same ambiguity that clouds the nature of desire - a cloud of ambiguity which only the rays of the Intellect - the supernal Sun - can disperse. This is the ambiguity of Maya, the ambiguity of the Cosmic Veil. And at the heart of this ambiguity lies a choice given to all of mankind: to seek the fulfilment of one's desires in the beatific vision of the Sun’s heavenly Light or to seek it in the tumult of the shadows.
From a metaphysical standpoint, privation and proximity, transcendence and immanence, the mystery of the Absolute and the radiance of the Infinite, are each embedded within the very structure of Reality. It is our "ontological distance from God" that constitutes our privation, and the possibility of our "ontological re-integration" within God that constitutes our proximity. "Things are in God and God is in things with a kind of discontinuous continuity" (Schuon), and Reality is therefore translucent with the radiance of God. Creation is understood in traditional thought to be a Veil through which - and in which - God is metaphysically transparent. Insofar as creation is separate from God, man is ontologically distant from the source of his existence and from the object of his salvation, which remains ever transcendent, mysterious, beyond reach. Yet, insofar as creation is a theophany, radiating the immanence of God, man - made in the image of God - has within him both the means and end of the fulfilment of his desires.
Silence, suffering, and identity
~Timothy Scott
‘One word spake the father, which Word was His Son, and this Word He speaks ever in eternal silence, and in silence must it be heard by the soul.’ (St John of the Cross)
‘To have understood that nothing is gained by questioning about the Principle, but that it is to be contemplated in silence, this is what is called having obtained the Great Result.’ (Chuang-tse)
‘If you ask him: “What is silence?” he will answer: “It is the Great Mystery!” “The holy silence is His voice!”’ (Ohiyesa)
‘Be silent that the lord who gave thee language may speak.’ (Dīvāni, Shamsi Tabriz)
Prayer is communication with God; but not all communication is obviously two way. The silence one may be met with during prayer can feel like a great void, a chasm between oneself and a remote God. Worse, it can feel like a confirmation of the nagging doubt that maybe there really is nothing “out there” to answer. Yet this is to misunderstand silence. The silence one faces in prayer may be said to express a greater truth than were God to manifest into our presence like a genie and grant our prayers like wishes.
The most vital thing we can pray for is to come closer to knowing God. Silence is a very real response that leads us to the truth that God is beyond words, beyond any of the limitations we might place on the divine in calling God this or that, Him or Her, Immanent or Transcendent. Even to call God “good” is in the end a limitation; it is a way for us to understand. But God is infinitely beyond questions of good and evil. God is beyond any question of individual prejudice, and it is this that means the Divine can be truly intimate and personal with everyone.
God is beyond words and thus answers with silence. For those of us who want answers in our language this silence is deafening and terrifying. For those who are willing to come to God on His terms, this silence is the sound of His infinite and eternal Presence and Love. ‘Silence’ says Swami Sivananda, ‘is the language of God: it is also the language of the heart.’ Underlying the clamour of our world, God’s silence is always there. It is in meeting this silence that we can finally hear it. As Angelus Silesius remarks, ‘God is so present everywhere that one cannot speak: Thus thou wilt praise Him better through silence.’ For those with “ears to hear,” silence is the eternally proclaimed word of God.
What is it to have “ears that hear”? It is to come to God on His terms. In praying to silence—even when full of doubt and fear—one sacrifices the desires of the ego and opens oneself to the will of God. We show our willingness to do this when we come to a particular place of worship that might be hard to get to, at a time that might be inconvenient, to hear a reading or a teaching that may seem outdated and irrelevant; to pray to a silence that may seem empty and cold. Still we come, rather than demanding that God come to us. Of course God is already with us—‘closer to us than our jugular vein’ as the Qur’an tells us—still it is our act it is our act, our sacrifice, that gives us eyes to see His Presence and ears to hear His silence Word.
‘One word spake the father, which Word was His Son, and this Word He speaks ever in eternal silence, and in silence must it be heard by the soul.’ (St John of the Cross)
‘To have understood that nothing is gained by questioning about the Principle, but that it is to be contemplated in silence, this is what is called having obtained the Great Result.’ (Chuang-tse)
‘If you ask him: “What is silence?” he will answer: “It is the Great Mystery!” “The holy silence is His voice!”’ (Ohiyesa)
‘Be silent that the lord who gave thee language may speak.’ (Dīvāni, Shamsi Tabriz)
Prayer is communication with God; but not all communication is obviously two way. The silence one may be met with during prayer can feel like a great void, a chasm between oneself and a remote God. Worse, it can feel like a confirmation of the nagging doubt that maybe there really is nothing “out there” to answer. Yet this is to misunderstand silence. The silence one faces in prayer may be said to express a greater truth than were God to manifest into our presence like a genie and grant our prayers like wishes.
The most vital thing we can pray for is to come closer to knowing God. Silence is a very real response that leads us to the truth that God is beyond words, beyond any of the limitations we might place on the divine in calling God this or that, Him or Her, Immanent or Transcendent. Even to call God “good” is in the end a limitation; it is a way for us to understand. But God is infinitely beyond questions of good and evil. God is beyond any question of individual prejudice, and it is this that means the Divine can be truly intimate and personal with everyone.
God is beyond words and thus answers with silence. For those of us who want answers in our language this silence is deafening and terrifying. For those who are willing to come to God on His terms, this silence is the sound of His infinite and eternal Presence and Love. ‘Silence’ says Swami Sivananda, ‘is the language of God: it is also the language of the heart.’ Underlying the clamour of our world, God’s silence is always there. It is in meeting this silence that we can finally hear it. As Angelus Silesius remarks, ‘God is so present everywhere that one cannot speak: Thus thou wilt praise Him better through silence.’ For those with “ears to hear,” silence is the eternally proclaimed word of God.
What is it to have “ears that hear”? It is to come to God on His terms. In praying to silence—even when full of doubt and fear—one sacrifices the desires of the ego and opens oneself to the will of God. We show our willingness to do this when we come to a particular place of worship that might be hard to get to, at a time that might be inconvenient, to hear a reading or a teaching that may seem outdated and irrelevant; to pray to a silence that may seem empty and cold. Still we come, rather than demanding that God come to us. Of course God is already with us—‘closer to us than our jugular vein’ as the Qur’an tells us—still it is our act it is our act, our sacrifice, that gives us eyes to see His Presence and ears to hear His silence Word.
The Yoga of Hesychasm
~James S. Cutsinger
I must begin with a few words of caution. This article is meant to cast light on a short mystical poem, “The Ladder of Divine Graces” by Theophanis the Monk. We know very little about Theophanis, not even when he lived. All we are sure of is that he was a monastic of the Christian East, one among the monks of Mounts Athos and Sinai, whose quest towards hesychia or stillness has given rise to their designation as the Hesychast Fathers. Here is where a first warning comes in. Nothing I shall be saying is going to make the slightest sense unless my reader understands at the outset that for Theophanis Christianity is a mystagogical path, a way toward what is. It is not a creed, it is not a rite, and it is not an ethic. Or rather, while it includes all these things on the surface, in its essence it is the means of our becoming Divine.
A second caveat has to do with the expectations one brings to these brief remarks. We need to be modest. Into these seventy-one lines of verse are distilled over a thousand years of spiritual teaching and ascetic discipline. The poem contains what amounts to an alchemical tincture, very concentrated and very potent, and my hope is simply to offer a taste of the resulting elixir. There is no question of providing an exhaustive interpretation of this tradition. I wish only to highlight a few salient ideas, while underscoring the poet’s own repeated stress on experience. Experience teaches one, he says, not words. Whatever else, the author means to prick the conscience of anyone who supposes that doctrine can stand alone without method, theory without practice. We need the effectual means of liberation supplied by a genuine yoga.
I must begin with a few words of caution. This article is meant to cast light on a short mystical poem, “The Ladder of Divine Graces” by Theophanis the Monk. We know very little about Theophanis, not even when he lived. All we are sure of is that he was a monastic of the Christian East, one among the monks of Mounts Athos and Sinai, whose quest towards hesychia or stillness has given rise to their designation as the Hesychast Fathers. Here is where a first warning comes in. Nothing I shall be saying is going to make the slightest sense unless my reader understands at the outset that for Theophanis Christianity is a mystagogical path, a way toward what is. It is not a creed, it is not a rite, and it is not an ethic. Or rather, while it includes all these things on the surface, in its essence it is the means of our becoming Divine.
A second caveat has to do with the expectations one brings to these brief remarks. We need to be modest. Into these seventy-one lines of verse are distilled over a thousand years of spiritual teaching and ascetic discipline. The poem contains what amounts to an alchemical tincture, very concentrated and very potent, and my hope is simply to offer a taste of the resulting elixir. There is no question of providing an exhaustive interpretation of this tradition. I wish only to highlight a few salient ideas, while underscoring the poet’s own repeated stress on experience. Experience teaches one, he says, not words. Whatever else, the author means to prick the conscience of anyone who supposes that doctrine can stand alone without method, theory without practice. We need the effectual means of liberation supplied by a genuine yoga.
Of Detachment and Spiritual Courtesy
~M. Ali Lakhani
The saint is effectively the void made for the passage of God.
Frithjof Schuon
He who clings to the Void
And neglects Compassion
Does not reach the highest stage.
But he who practises only Compassion
Does not gain release from the toils of existence.
He, however, who is strong in practice of both,
Remains neither in Samsara nor in Nirvana.
Saraha
It is a curious fact of modern lives, particularly in urban societies, that people are increasingly hard-edged and jaded, burying their vulnerabilities deep within an exterior of toughness and resignation. Their detachment renders them capable of gazing vacantly at images of violence and depravity or of shrugging indifferently at news of war, famine or disaster. For them, in the words of Tennessee Williams, "happiness is insensitivity". This insensitivity - the detachment of modernity - is very different to the quality of detachment advocated by tradition as a virtue. It is not a detachment of compassion and serenity, rather a paradoxical amalgam of unconcern and craving.
The detachment of tradition, by contrast, is grounded in humane compassion, not in insensitivity. The basis for this detachment is a view of reality as both transcendent (hence the distance of detachment) and immanent (hence the intimacy of compassion). The acceptance of transcendence necessarily imparts a recognition of our own indigence and contingency in relation to the Absolute, producing a sense of wonder and humility that are all but lacking in the modern outlook. At the same time, the acceptance of immanence imparts an awareness of the integrity of reality, producing a sense of its sacred inter-relatedness and an abiding compassion for all things that is the very antithesis of insensitivity.
The saint is effectively the void made for the passage of God.
Frithjof Schuon
He who clings to the Void
And neglects Compassion
Does not reach the highest stage.
But he who practises only Compassion
Does not gain release from the toils of existence.
He, however, who is strong in practice of both,
Remains neither in Samsara nor in Nirvana.
Saraha
It is a curious fact of modern lives, particularly in urban societies, that people are increasingly hard-edged and jaded, burying their vulnerabilities deep within an exterior of toughness and resignation. Their detachment renders them capable of gazing vacantly at images of violence and depravity or of shrugging indifferently at news of war, famine or disaster. For them, in the words of Tennessee Williams, "happiness is insensitivity". This insensitivity - the detachment of modernity - is very different to the quality of detachment advocated by tradition as a virtue. It is not a detachment of compassion and serenity, rather a paradoxical amalgam of unconcern and craving.
The detachment of tradition, by contrast, is grounded in humane compassion, not in insensitivity. The basis for this detachment is a view of reality as both transcendent (hence the distance of detachment) and immanent (hence the intimacy of compassion). The acceptance of transcendence necessarily imparts a recognition of our own indigence and contingency in relation to the Absolute, producing a sense of wonder and humility that are all but lacking in the modern outlook. At the same time, the acceptance of immanence imparts an awareness of the integrity of reality, producing a sense of its sacred inter-relatedness and an abiding compassion for all things that is the very antithesis of insensitivity.
Living One’s Karma
~Marco Pallis
THE conception of Existence as samsāra, Cosmic Flux, together with its parallel conception of karma, "concordant action and reaction" as the determinant of each being's part in that flux, is an essential feature of all the traditions directly or indirectly deriving from India; though the subject is here being considered from a Buddhist angle, most of what will be said could apply to Hinduism equally well.
Let us first consider the Round of Existence through its symbolical representation, said to go back to the Buddha himself, as a circle sub-divided into six sectors each containing one of the typical classes of sentient beings. These sectors can be arranged in three pairs, as follows:
Our world:
1) Human—the central state
2) Animals—peripheral states
Supernal worlds:
3) gods or devas
4) titans or asuras
Infernal worlds:
5) tantalized ghosts or pretas
6) hells
This symbolic scheme is familiar wherever the Buddhist tradition prevails.
Let us examine each of the six components in somewhat greater detail. Quite evidently, the human sector, which was mentioned first, has been given a disproportionate share in the whole if one considers it solely from the point of view of the number of beings concerned. As compared with the vast multiplicity of their non-human neighbours, men represent a very small number indeed, apart from the fact that they form but one species as compared with an immense variety extending to genera, families and natural orders. The reason for this privileged treatment is twofold: firstly, being men ourselves it is natural for us to single out for study our own kind and manner of existing; and secondly, the human species is the chosen field of avatāric descent, of Buddhahood, and this, qualitatively speaking, entitles it to privileged consideration.
Passing to the animal sector; this contains a large number of different species situated at the same level of existence as man, but varying in respect of their nearness to, or remoteness from, the human position. It might then be asked: where do plants and minerals come in, since they do not seem to figure by name in any sector? The answer can only be that here one is not dealing with a chart of biological or geological statistics; one must not expect a meticulous consistency in regard to details. All the traditional picture of the Round is intended to do is to serve as a broadly sufficient guide to an understanding of the Universe, one which is based, all along, on qualitative factors rather than on "facts" or quantitative considerations such as enter into the purview of natural sciences in the usual sense of the word.
THE conception of Existence as samsāra, Cosmic Flux, together with its parallel conception of karma, "concordant action and reaction" as the determinant of each being's part in that flux, is an essential feature of all the traditions directly or indirectly deriving from India; though the subject is here being considered from a Buddhist angle, most of what will be said could apply to Hinduism equally well.
Let us first consider the Round of Existence through its symbolical representation, said to go back to the Buddha himself, as a circle sub-divided into six sectors each containing one of the typical classes of sentient beings. These sectors can be arranged in three pairs, as follows:
Our world:
1) Human—the central state
2) Animals—peripheral states
Supernal worlds:
3) gods or devas
4) titans or asuras
Infernal worlds:
5) tantalized ghosts or pretas
6) hells
This symbolic scheme is familiar wherever the Buddhist tradition prevails.
Let us examine each of the six components in somewhat greater detail. Quite evidently, the human sector, which was mentioned first, has been given a disproportionate share in the whole if one considers it solely from the point of view of the number of beings concerned. As compared with the vast multiplicity of their non-human neighbours, men represent a very small number indeed, apart from the fact that they form but one species as compared with an immense variety extending to genera, families and natural orders. The reason for this privileged treatment is twofold: firstly, being men ourselves it is natural for us to single out for study our own kind and manner of existing; and secondly, the human species is the chosen field of avatāric descent, of Buddhahood, and this, qualitatively speaking, entitles it to privileged consideration.
Passing to the animal sector; this contains a large number of different species situated at the same level of existence as man, but varying in respect of their nearness to, or remoteness from, the human position. It might then be asked: where do plants and minerals come in, since they do not seem to figure by name in any sector? The answer can only be that here one is not dealing with a chart of biological or geological statistics; one must not expect a meticulous consistency in regard to details. All the traditional picture of the Round is intended to do is to serve as a broadly sufficient guide to an understanding of the Universe, one which is based, all along, on qualitative factors rather than on "facts" or quantitative considerations such as enter into the purview of natural sciences in the usual sense of the word.
Oneness: The Highest Common Denominator
Common Ground Between Islam and Buddhism
~Reza Shah-Kazemi
Say: He, God, is One
God, the Self-Sufficient Besought of all,
He begets not, nor is begotten,
And there is none like unto Him.
(Qur’ān 112:1–4)
There is, monks, an unborn, not become, not made, uncompounded;
and were it not, monks, for this unborn, not become,
not made, uncompounded, no escape could be shown
here for what is born, has become, is made, is compounded.
But because there is, monks, an unborn, not become, not
made, uncompounded, therefore an escape can be shown
for what is born, has become, is made, is compounded.’
(Udāna, 80–81)
The juxtaposition of these two scriptural citations shows us the possibility of arguing that the ultimate Reality to which Islam and Buddhism testify is one and the same. One can ask the question: is That which is described as absolutely One in the Qur’ān metaphysically identical to that which is described as ‘uncompounded’ by the Buddha?
Let us take a look at how this oneness is described in Islam, before comparing it to the ‘uncompounded’ in Buddhism. The first testimony of Islam, ‘No divinity but the one and only Divinity’ can be understood to mean not just that there is only one God as opposed to many, but that there is only one absolute, permanent reality—all other realities being relative and ephemeral, totally dependent upon this One reality for its existence: Everything thereon is passing away (fān); and there subsists (yabqā) only the Face of your Lord, Owner of Majesty and Glory (55:26–27). Thus, this first testimony comes to mean, in metaphysical terms: ‘No reality but the one and only Reality’. The false ‘gods’ of paganism are not just idols made of wood and stone, but also, and more fundamentally, so many erroneous views of reality, so many mistakes on the level of thought. This epistemological mode of affirmation of tawhīd, or the oneness of God, together nwith its corollary, the censure of shirk, or idolatry, might be seen to resonate deeply with the following simple statement by the Buddha, which figures in the very first chapter of the Dhammapada:
Those who think the unreal is, and think the Real is not,they shall never reach the Truth, lost in the path of wrong thought. But those who know the Real is, and know the unreal is not, they shall indeed reach the Truth, safe on the path of right thought.
This statement echoes the first testimony of Islam, understood metaphysically or epistemologically, rather than simply theologically. It also echoes the verse of the Qur’ān:
There is no compulsion in religion. Indeed the right way has been made distinct from error. So whoever rejects [lit.‘disbelieves’: yakfur] the false gods and believes in God, he has truly held tight to the firmest of handles, which can never break (2:256).
~Reza Shah-Kazemi
Say: He, God, is One
God, the Self-Sufficient Besought of all,
He begets not, nor is begotten,
And there is none like unto Him.
(Qur’ān 112:1–4)
There is, monks, an unborn, not become, not made, uncompounded;
and were it not, monks, for this unborn, not become,
not made, uncompounded, no escape could be shown
here for what is born, has become, is made, is compounded.
But because there is, monks, an unborn, not become, not
made, uncompounded, therefore an escape can be shown
for what is born, has become, is made, is compounded.’
(Udāna, 80–81)
The juxtaposition of these two scriptural citations shows us the possibility of arguing that the ultimate Reality to which Islam and Buddhism testify is one and the same. One can ask the question: is That which is described as absolutely One in the Qur’ān metaphysically identical to that which is described as ‘uncompounded’ by the Buddha?
Let us take a look at how this oneness is described in Islam, before comparing it to the ‘uncompounded’ in Buddhism. The first testimony of Islam, ‘No divinity but the one and only Divinity’ can be understood to mean not just that there is only one God as opposed to many, but that there is only one absolute, permanent reality—all other realities being relative and ephemeral, totally dependent upon this One reality for its existence: Everything thereon is passing away (fān); and there subsists (yabqā) only the Face of your Lord, Owner of Majesty and Glory (55:26–27). Thus, this first testimony comes to mean, in metaphysical terms: ‘No reality but the one and only Reality’. The false ‘gods’ of paganism are not just idols made of wood and stone, but also, and more fundamentally, so many erroneous views of reality, so many mistakes on the level of thought. This epistemological mode of affirmation of tawhīd, or the oneness of God, together nwith its corollary, the censure of shirk, or idolatry, might be seen to resonate deeply with the following simple statement by the Buddha, which figures in the very first chapter of the Dhammapada:
Those who think the unreal is, and think the Real is not,they shall never reach the Truth, lost in the path of wrong thought. But those who know the Real is, and know the unreal is not, they shall indeed reach the Truth, safe on the path of right thought.
This statement echoes the first testimony of Islam, understood metaphysically or epistemologically, rather than simply theologically. It also echoes the verse of the Qur’ān:
There is no compulsion in religion. Indeed the right way has been made distinct from error. So whoever rejects [lit.‘disbelieves’: yakfur] the false gods and believes in God, he has truly held tight to the firmest of handles, which can never break (2:256).
The Problems that result from locating Spirituality in the Psyche
~Rama P. Coomaraswamy
Modernist misconceptions of Spirituality
The Subconscious, not the intellect, is the organ through which Man lives his spiritual life. It is the fount of poetry, music, and the visual arts, and the channel through which the Soul is in communion with God.
Arnold Toynbee, A Study of History
Arnold Toynbee, in the passage quoted above, has clearly delineated the prevailing attitudes and convictions about the nature of "spirituality". This opinion however is a gross distortion, the consequences of which are fraught with dangers for those who legitimately seek out the "higher" things in life. Our psyches, which include not only our subconscious drives but also our egos and our thinking processes, are notoriously unstable in the sense that what we think or feel at any given time can easily shift and change. Moreover, they fail to embrace the totality of what we are as human beings. That spirituality should have its foundation on such "shifting sands" belies its intrinsic nature, for spirituality, if it be true and real, must be established on more solid ground. At the same time, the modern view ignores what is most central to our nature as human beings made in the image of God. It almost inevitably follows that spirituality has become divorced from religion, from true intellectuality, from reason, and even from common sense; and consequently some of the most bizarre cults unfortunately become characterized as religion.
One of the reasons for this view is that there is currently considerable confusion between "religions" and "belief systems". Indeed, there is an attempt on the part of certain academics to reduce all religions to belief systems, arguing that religions are merely belief systems that have somehow "caught on" and become accepted by large numbers of people and thereby become established as religions. But it is necessary to distinguish between these, for genuine religions are based on revelation which provide them with a fixed creed, code and cult that is independent of any individual thought or feeling, while belief systems not based on revelation are inevitably subject to human opinion. One recognizes of course that many founders of modern sects base themselves partially on what they might term "revelation"—accepting what they like and rejecting what they find offensive—and that almost all of them claim to be inspired by the "Holy Spirit". But the fact remains that all of them are based in part, if not completely, on the thinking and understanding of a human person. The problem is that such thinking and feeling resides in the psyche and is subject to illusion, a problem that can only be avoided by adhering to a fixed external source. Unfortunately, many representatives of traditional religions currently attack the revealed basis of their faith in an attempt to accommodate them to the values of the modern world, which in effect reduces them to the same level as other belief systems.
Modernist misconceptions of Spirituality
The Subconscious, not the intellect, is the organ through which Man lives his spiritual life. It is the fount of poetry, music, and the visual arts, and the channel through which the Soul is in communion with God.
Arnold Toynbee, A Study of History
Arnold Toynbee, in the passage quoted above, has clearly delineated the prevailing attitudes and convictions about the nature of "spirituality". This opinion however is a gross distortion, the consequences of which are fraught with dangers for those who legitimately seek out the "higher" things in life. Our psyches, which include not only our subconscious drives but also our egos and our thinking processes, are notoriously unstable in the sense that what we think or feel at any given time can easily shift and change. Moreover, they fail to embrace the totality of what we are as human beings. That spirituality should have its foundation on such "shifting sands" belies its intrinsic nature, for spirituality, if it be true and real, must be established on more solid ground. At the same time, the modern view ignores what is most central to our nature as human beings made in the image of God. It almost inevitably follows that spirituality has become divorced from religion, from true intellectuality, from reason, and even from common sense; and consequently some of the most bizarre cults unfortunately become characterized as religion.
One of the reasons for this view is that there is currently considerable confusion between "religions" and "belief systems". Indeed, there is an attempt on the part of certain academics to reduce all religions to belief systems, arguing that religions are merely belief systems that have somehow "caught on" and become accepted by large numbers of people and thereby become established as religions. But it is necessary to distinguish between these, for genuine religions are based on revelation which provide them with a fixed creed, code and cult that is independent of any individual thought or feeling, while belief systems not based on revelation are inevitably subject to human opinion. One recognizes of course that many founders of modern sects base themselves partially on what they might term "revelation"—accepting what they like and rejecting what they find offensive—and that almost all of them claim to be inspired by the "Holy Spirit". But the fact remains that all of them are based in part, if not completely, on the thinking and understanding of a human person. The problem is that such thinking and feeling resides in the psyche and is subject to illusion, a problem that can only be avoided by adhering to a fixed external source. Unfortunately, many representatives of traditional religions currently attack the revealed basis of their faith in an attempt to accommodate them to the values of the modern world, which in effect reduces them to the same level as other belief systems.
Symbolic Flowers
~René Guénon
It is well known that the use of flowers in symbolism is widespread and that it is to be found in most traditions. It is also a very complex symbolism, and our intention here can only be to point out some of the more general meanings. It is obvious, in fact, that the sense of a floral symbol may vary, at least in its secondary modalities, according to the particular flower taken as symbol. and also, as is generally the case in symbolism, that each flower can itself have a plurality of meanings, which may be bound up with each other by certain correspondences.
One of the chief meanings of floral symbolism is that which relates to the feminine or passive principle of manifestation, Prakriti or universal substance. In this respect, the flower is equivalent to a number of other symbols, among which the most important is the cup. Like the cup, the flower by its very form evokes the notion of 'receptacle' , which Prakriti is as regards the influences emanating from Purusha, and one commonly speaks of the calyx [i.e., cup or chalice] of a flower. On the other hand, the blossoming of this same flower simultaneously represents the development of manifestation itself, considered as a production of Prakriti. This double sense is particularly clear in a case such as that of the lotus which, in the East, is the symbolic flower of flowers and which has the special characteristic of blooming on the surface of the water; and as we have explained elsewhere, this surface always represents the domain of a certain state of manifestation, or the plane of reflection of the 'celestial Ray' which expresses the influence of Purusha exercised on this domain in order to realise the possibilities potentially contained therein, enveloped in the primordial indifferentiation of Prakriti.
The above mentioned connection between flower and cup naturally brings to mind the symbolism of the Grail in the Western traditions. We have already seen that among the various objects traditionally associated with the Grail there is a lance which, in the Christian adaptation of the legend, is the lance of the centurion Longinus that made, in the side of Christ, the wound from which flowed the blood and water that Joseph of Arimathea collected in the chalice used at the Last Supper; but it is nonetheless true that this lance or one of its equivalents already existed as a complementary symbol to the chalice or cup in pre-Christian traditions. The lance, in a vertical position, is one form of the 'World Axis' which is identical with the 'celestial Ray' that we just mentioned; and in this connection, it can be recalled also that the solar ray is frequently assimilated to weapons such as the lance or the arrow, though it would be out of place to dwell on these weapons here. On the other hand, in certain representations, the drops of blood fall from the lance itself into the cup; now these drops of blood, in their principial significance, are an image of the influences emanating from Purusha, which evokes the Vedic symbol of the sacrifice of Purusha at the origin of manifestation.
From: Symbols of Sacred Science
It is well known that the use of flowers in symbolism is widespread and that it is to be found in most traditions. It is also a very complex symbolism, and our intention here can only be to point out some of the more general meanings. It is obvious, in fact, that the sense of a floral symbol may vary, at least in its secondary modalities, according to the particular flower taken as symbol. and also, as is generally the case in symbolism, that each flower can itself have a plurality of meanings, which may be bound up with each other by certain correspondences.
One of the chief meanings of floral symbolism is that which relates to the feminine or passive principle of manifestation, Prakriti or universal substance. In this respect, the flower is equivalent to a number of other symbols, among which the most important is the cup. Like the cup, the flower by its very form evokes the notion of 'receptacle' , which Prakriti is as regards the influences emanating from Purusha, and one commonly speaks of the calyx [i.e., cup or chalice] of a flower. On the other hand, the blossoming of this same flower simultaneously represents the development of manifestation itself, considered as a production of Prakriti. This double sense is particularly clear in a case such as that of the lotus which, in the East, is the symbolic flower of flowers and which has the special characteristic of blooming on the surface of the water; and as we have explained elsewhere, this surface always represents the domain of a certain state of manifestation, or the plane of reflection of the 'celestial Ray' which expresses the influence of Purusha exercised on this domain in order to realise the possibilities potentially contained therein, enveloped in the primordial indifferentiation of Prakriti.
The above mentioned connection between flower and cup naturally brings to mind the symbolism of the Grail in the Western traditions. We have already seen that among the various objects traditionally associated with the Grail there is a lance which, in the Christian adaptation of the legend, is the lance of the centurion Longinus that made, in the side of Christ, the wound from which flowed the blood and water that Joseph of Arimathea collected in the chalice used at the Last Supper; but it is nonetheless true that this lance or one of its equivalents already existed as a complementary symbol to the chalice or cup in pre-Christian traditions. The lance, in a vertical position, is one form of the 'World Axis' which is identical with the 'celestial Ray' that we just mentioned; and in this connection, it can be recalled also that the solar ray is frequently assimilated to weapons such as the lance or the arrow, though it would be out of place to dwell on these weapons here. On the other hand, in certain representations, the drops of blood fall from the lance itself into the cup; now these drops of blood, in their principial significance, are an image of the influences emanating from Purusha, which evokes the Vedic symbol of the sacrifice of Purusha at the origin of manifestation.
From: Symbols of Sacred Science
Understanding “Tradition”
~M. Ali Lakhani
Tradition has nothing to do with any “ages”, whether “dark”,
“primaeval”, or otherwise. Tradition represents doctrines
about first principles, which do not change.
~Ananda K. Coomaraswamy, Correspondence, 1946
... there is nothing and can be nothing truly traditional that does not contain
some element of a super-human order. This indeed is the essential point,
containing as it were the very definition of tradition and all that appertains to it.
~René Guénon, The Reign of Quantity
The terms “traditional” and “modern” suggest a distinction between the old and the new, the fixed and the changing, the hallowed way of the past and the progressive way of the future. The underlying polarity that it reflects is rooted in the metaphysical structure of reality, in the architecture of the Absolute inviolability of Substance and the Infinite possibility of Form. This underlying polarity is expressed in the dialectic of Necessity and Freedom. Necessity is the organizing principle of deployment, of projection and reintegration: all that exists emerges from and abides within the common ground of all reality, whose transcendental Substance is simultaneously both its Origin and its End, the criterion of all objectivity. Freedom is the creative principle of this deployment, expressing itself in an infinite variety of modes and modalities of Form and in the immanent potential of our own supra-personal subjectivity.
The terms “Tradition” and “Modernity”, as used by traditionalists like Seyyed Hossein Nasr, are not derivatives of the conventional differentiation between the terms “traditional” and “modern”, though the traditionalists’ particular usage of those terms is premised on the metaphysical structure described above. This can be confusing.
For Nasr, “Modernity” is “that which is cut off from the Transcendent, from the immutable principles which in reality govern all things and which are made known to man through revelation in its most universal sense”, while “Tradition”, by contrast, designates those immutable principles, the sophia perennis or primordial wisdom, which are rooted in the Transcendent. According to this definition, Modernity is not necessarily synonymous with the contemporary (or focused on the future), nor Tradition necessarily with the continuation of history (or focused on the past). Tradition, in this sense, is meta-historical: its only relation to the past resides in the linkage of a particular religious tradition to its original source, which is to say, the revelation that authenticates it, the foundational scripture and its expressive forms of worship transmitted through the protective medium of the particular tradition. But this relation between a particular tradition and its historical origins is in a sense merely incidental. The relation between Tradition as such and Revelation as such transcends history. Revelation “in its most universal sense” is not a historical event: it is based in the eternal present and is continuous. Its authentication is not reduced to one’s ability to retrace it to any particular point in history, rather its authenticity is guaranteed by its ability to resonate as true within the sanctum of the Heart, whose discerning faculty is the supra-rational Intellect. Knowledge is thus a resonance of the spiritual Substance that pervades the whole of creation, and whose presence reverberates within the undefiled Heart. Knowledge is not merely a form of intellectual taxidermy, rather a way of inhabiting the creature itself. It is to be fully human.
Tradition has nothing to do with any “ages”, whether “dark”,
“primaeval”, or otherwise. Tradition represents doctrines
about first principles, which do not change.
~Ananda K. Coomaraswamy, Correspondence, 1946
... there is nothing and can be nothing truly traditional that does not contain
some element of a super-human order. This indeed is the essential point,
containing as it were the very definition of tradition and all that appertains to it.
~René Guénon, The Reign of Quantity
The terms “traditional” and “modern” suggest a distinction between the old and the new, the fixed and the changing, the hallowed way of the past and the progressive way of the future. The underlying polarity that it reflects is rooted in the metaphysical structure of reality, in the architecture of the Absolute inviolability of Substance and the Infinite possibility of Form. This underlying polarity is expressed in the dialectic of Necessity and Freedom. Necessity is the organizing principle of deployment, of projection and reintegration: all that exists emerges from and abides within the common ground of all reality, whose transcendental Substance is simultaneously both its Origin and its End, the criterion of all objectivity. Freedom is the creative principle of this deployment, expressing itself in an infinite variety of modes and modalities of Form and in the immanent potential of our own supra-personal subjectivity.
The terms “Tradition” and “Modernity”, as used by traditionalists like Seyyed Hossein Nasr, are not derivatives of the conventional differentiation between the terms “traditional” and “modern”, though the traditionalists’ particular usage of those terms is premised on the metaphysical structure described above. This can be confusing.
For Nasr, “Modernity” is “that which is cut off from the Transcendent, from the immutable principles which in reality govern all things and which are made known to man through revelation in its most universal sense”, while “Tradition”, by contrast, designates those immutable principles, the sophia perennis or primordial wisdom, which are rooted in the Transcendent. According to this definition, Modernity is not necessarily synonymous with the contemporary (or focused on the future), nor Tradition necessarily with the continuation of history (or focused on the past). Tradition, in this sense, is meta-historical: its only relation to the past resides in the linkage of a particular religious tradition to its original source, which is to say, the revelation that authenticates it, the foundational scripture and its expressive forms of worship transmitted through the protective medium of the particular tradition. But this relation between a particular tradition and its historical origins is in a sense merely incidental. The relation between Tradition as such and Revelation as such transcends history. Revelation “in its most universal sense” is not a historical event: it is based in the eternal present and is continuous. Its authentication is not reduced to one’s ability to retrace it to any particular point in history, rather its authenticity is guaranteed by its ability to resonate as true within the sanctum of the Heart, whose discerning faculty is the supra-rational Intellect. Knowledge is thus a resonance of the spiritual Substance that pervades the whole of creation, and whose presence reverberates within the undefiled Heart. Knowledge is not merely a form of intellectual taxidermy, rather a way of inhabiting the creature itself. It is to be fully human.
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