Lecture I
The Sixth Sub-Race

I have chosen for the subject of my lecture to-night one which I think is important—the Sixth Sub-Race. Both outside and inside the Theosophical Society a certain amount of good-humoured ridicule has been cast on the way in which Theosophists talk about Races, Sub-Races, Root-Races, Cycles, Rounds, and so on, some people condemning such talk as exceedingly unpractical. Really that is not so. When our great teacher H. P. Blavatsky traced for us The Secret Doctrine, that wonderful panorama of the past evolution of the Races on our globe, she was not only giving us the story of the past, but also presenting us with the key to the future. And I propose to-night to try to show you how it is possible for the Theosophist who has carefully studied the principles underlying past evolution, to apply these to the evolution of the future, and so learn how he may best co-operate with the divine plan which is slowly working itself out. The advantage of Theosophical teaching is that it gives us a definite scheme into which the evolution of mankind, stage by stage, fits without difficulty and without blunder.

Now, if we think for a moment of what we call the larger and the smaller cycles, we can realise that the large scheme of the Races, the smaller scheme of the sub-races, and the evolution of man himself, all go along parallel lines. Understanding one, we can understand all. I will pause on the evolution of the Races, in order to remind you of the repetition, within the limit of each race, of the smaller sub-races. We need not go very far back. It will be enough to consider the Race that preceded our own, the great fourth Root Race, and our own. The fourth Root Race was the Atlantean. I only allude to it in order to remind you that from the midst of that race the Fifth Race, in its turn, arose. Now the choosing out of a new Race is the task of a particular Personage in the Occult Hierarchy, whose only name, so far as we know it, is that which has been borrowed from the Hindu, the Manu, the Man, or the Thinker, the ideal or typical man. The Manu forms in His own mind, after the master conception of the Planetary Logos, the plan of the man that is to be, which He will gradually realise along the lines of natural evolution. These laws of evolution are used by the Manu with scientific knowledge, and therefore with certainty. In the same way that a scientific breeder, dealing with the animal kingdom, can breed towards a desired type, so, on a higher plane, does the Manu of the Race mould by the same laws of evolution the physical form of the Race He desires to evolve. And always the type is formed in the matter of the higher planes before it is reproduced in the matter of the lower, the mental and emotional characteristics being first conceived, and then a physical body which will best express them. The Manu chooses the type according to the particular qualities which are to be evolved, which are marked out for Him by the basic plan of the constitution of man himself. Looking at your own nature, you have certain distinct departments: the physical body; the astral body; the mental body; the body of the higher mind, the causal; and then that of the pure, compassionate Reason, the buddhic. Now if we take those three types, the emotional, mental, and buddhic, we have the three with which we are immediately concerned. Desire, or emotion, was the great characteristic of the fourth Race. The mind was the slave of the lower feelings; that race had as its motive power the development of the desire nature. But in the sub-races of the fourth Race the other principles had also to be evolved, but to a very poor degree; and as time went on, the fifth sub-race of that began to develop the lower mind. Out of that fifth sub-race the selection of the Manu of the time was made, and He chose out certain families that He thought He could shape into the required type. The first choice was not successful, the people proving too stiff-necked and too little plastic to be moulded into the Race that was to be; but it left behind it, in the history of the world, that marvellously interesting people, the Hebrew, and that idea of being a “chosen people” survives even to this day. The second and successful selection had as its issue our own fifth Root Race. Now, side by side with the evolution of the sub-race, came the evolution of the Root Race which was to succeed, and that is why I have referred to the past. As the fifth sub-race of the fourth Root Race was developed, the beginnings of the fifth Root Race, the great Aryan Race, appeared one million years ago.

We can leave our fourth Race with its sub-races, having only regarded it for the purpose of throwing light on the present. The evolution of the fifth Race went on, and sub-race after sub-race was born. The earliest of all settled in Northern India, and gradually conquered that great peninsula, the first sub-race of the stock of the Aryans. There came out after that the second sub-race, which wandered westward, as all the later sub-races did; then came the third, the Iranian; then the fourth, the Keltic; and the fifth, the Teutonic. So far we have come in the history of the sub-races of our own fifth Root Race. Now, notice that these overlap each other as they develop. The first of these sub-races is still a mighty power in Asia, showing signs that its day is by no means done, and that the Indians, if they have behind them a civilisation of hundreds of thousands of years, have also before them a mighty future, the first signs of which are being seen in the India of to-day. Signs, some encouraging, some disturbing for a time, are being seen on every hand that new life is being poured into its veins, signs of the birth of a new Indian nation. Of the second sub-race we have not any nation at the present time. Along the Mediterranean Basin it has left many traces of its civilisation, which are being unburied by our archÆologists; but so little mark, so to speak, did it leave on history that a large number of its wonders were deemed to be legends and myths. The next sub-race, the great Persian race, is almost outworn. The Persians of to-day have little in common with the Iranian of the past. The chief traces of them, in fact, are on the Indian continent, the Parsis, a race which has dwindled and is gradually passing away. But when we come to the fourth sub-race, the Keltic, we see great possibilities in that still. It gave birth to the older Greece, the country of Beauty and Philosophy. It gave birth also to Rome, with her remarkable ruling powers. It spread over Europe, founding one nation after another from itself, and spreading into Ireland and Scotland, made there possibilities that have not yet all flowered into effect. In Ireland you have a strange mingling of the remains of the fourth Root Race with the fourth sub-race of the fifth; a great deal of the Atlantean influence still exists, many of the tutelary deities of Ireland, the gods of the mountains, being largely they who mingled with Atlantean life and thought, and are still exercising their potent influences over the younger though still ancient Keltic sub-race. There, again, we have great possibilities of revival and of growth, for the fourth sub-race and the sixth sub-race are necessarily interlinked. Just as the emotional nature stretches upwards and causes sympathetic action in the spiritual nature, so with the Races and sub-races that represent these principles upon earth; the fourth and the sixth Races, like the fourth and sixth sub-races, are closely intertwined. Ireland has not been kept apart for nothing; the separation between the Kelt and the Teuton is not without its meaning. We shall find among that Keltic people possibilities of spiritual power, and we may look possibly for some mighty influence to flow thence into the great Christian organisation of Rome, who is now on the balance as to whether she is to sink down along the line that the Papal Encyclical seems to trace for her and become the enemy of the Spirit of the Age, or whether the Modernist party in the Roman Church is to rise into power, purify and vivify that ancient Communion, and make her again what she ought to be, the Church of Saints, the type and symbol of the purest and loftiest form of Christian thought. It may be that Ireland will co-operate also in the great purification which I pray may come to the Roman Communion, and make its revival possible. And that is closely connected with the sixth Root Race, and therefore partly with the sixth sub-race.

Now, after the fourth sub-race came our own; and when we find that this fifth sub-race, the Teutonic, is carrying on so rapidly the development of the concrete and scientific mind, when we notice that it is beginning its last conquest, the conquest of the air, then, if we have learned the lesson of the past, we may learn to see the signs of the sub-race which is to succeed it. But these sub-races overlap each other, and it is at the moment of the zenith of the one that the next is born. Go back to the zenith of the fourth sub-race, when the fifth was beginning to develop, when Rome was mighty, then it was that the Goths in German forests were beginning to be born into Europe; and to draw together into tribes, which were to grow into nations. Quietly and silently the new sub-race was being born while its predecessor was reaching the highest point of the civilised world of its time. Slowly it began to develop its own peculiarities and powers, and from that day the Teutonic sub-race has grown stronger and stronger, more and more dominant, and, though a small minority compared with the population of the world, is dominating that world by the force of its scientific mind, spreading everywhere, and making itself the very crest of the advancing wave.

But let us turn away our eyes from the dazzling glow of the present to look for the quiet places where the birth of the future is beginning to appear. Just because the fifth sub-race is so strong and dominant, we look over the world for the beginnings of its successor, which shall rule the world not by the force of the concrete mind, but by the force of the pure and compassionate Reason, which will conquer not by power but by love, not by competition but by co-operation, and found, therefore, an Empire that will long endure. For it is true now as ever that “They that take the sword shall perish by the sword,” and the Empire that is to live will be the Empire that wins its way by love and benediction, that is a teacher and a defender, and not only a ruler. The sixth sub-race, the Coming Race, will be born with the sixth Root Race in it, which is to grow so much more slowly. The coming of the sixth sub-race you may almost begin to see around you. It is not to be born in a single place, not to belong to a single nation, for it is the type of humanity, of the unifying Wisdom, and out of all nations and all peoples and all tongues it will gather together its chosen for the new type of thought which is to be born. And what that type will be we can easily outline by thinking of the characteristics of the buddhic principle in man. What are those characteristics? First of all, union, and hence in the outer world co-operation. The very essence of all action in the sixth sub-race will be the union of many to achieve a single object, and not the dominance of one who compels others to his will. The work of the future will not be, “Do so-and-so and follow me,” but, “Let us advance together to a goal that we all realise as desirable of attainment.” If you are looking for the sign of anyone who is beginning to show the marks of that sixth sub-race to-day, you will find it in those who lead by love, sympathy, and comprehension, and not by dominance of an imperious will; for the qualities of that sub-race will be found scattered here and there through the sub-race which it is gradually to supplant. You may trace out the coming of the sixth sub-race in the scattered people found in our fifth sub-race, in whom tenderness is the mark of power. Anyone who desires to take part in the building of that race needs to develop now the power to work with others rather than against them, and so, by a continual common effort, to replace the spirit of antagonism and competition. It is a synthesising spirit which we shall find in the forerunners of our sixth sub-race—those who are able to unite diversity of opinion and of character, who are able to gather round them the most unlike elements and blend them into a common whole, who have that capacity for taking into themselves diversities and sending out again unities, and utilising the most different capacities, finding each its place, and welding all together into a strong whole. That is one of the characteristics which marks the type of being out of whom this sixth sub-race will gradually develop. A strongly marked characteristic will be compassion. That virtue is comparatively rare in the energetic, strongly individualised West. Compassion is that quality which is at once affected by the presence of weakness, answering to it with patience, with tenderness, and with protection. You may notice how very often amongst ourselves, taking the ordinary fifth sub-race type, the presence of weakness is provocative. It does not call out compassion, but impatience—very characteristic of the fifth sub-race. Quick to understand and grasp a fact, it is impatient with the weakness and mental dulness which cannot easily appreciate the differences which seem to it so clear. The typical fifth sub-race civilisation is a civilisation that sees in weakness a field to exploit, a thing to enslave, something to trample under foot, in order to rise on it, and not to help to exist for itself. “Inevitable,” you say, “in a bustling civilisation like this, that the weak should go to the wall.” I do not deny that it has been inevitable in the development of the strong individualism of the present. That individualism is a priceless result, cheaply bought even by the suffering it has caused. Without that strong individualism you would not have the foundation on which the great co-operative civilisation could be built. For you cannot synthesise weaknesses, and it was necessary to make the strong and patient individuality in order that you might have something to blend together into a harmony in the future that is yet to be born. It is a very shortsighted view of human nature which sees in the growth of a particular quality a thing which is wholly undesirable; for there is nothing which is wholly undesirable in the evolution which is guided by perfect Wisdom and perfect Love. The most unlovely product of the fifth sub-race civilisation will be one of the bricks that will be built into the foundation of the sixth sub-race and of the sixth Root Race. For out of the strong individuality the strong virtues can be built, and compassion is a virtue of the strong, and not of the weak. The feeble, sentimental sympathy that comes with the poor and undeveloped nature is not compassion. It has no power of healing in it, and no power of protection. The person who, seeing a suffering or wrong, or even a physical accident, goes into hysterics over it, is not the strong helper who heals and protects. It is not the skilful nurse who goes into hysterics over the agony of the patient in pain, leaving that patient to suffer while she is having the cheap luxury of sentimental tears. It is only out of the strong natures you can build up real compassion. The compassion which does not help is useless, and help can only be given where knowledge guides feeling, and understanding shapes the remedy. Hence out of these strong individualities, when their object has been changed and the greater Self has taken the place of the smaller self, out of those the sixth sub-race, which has pure Reason for its dominating principle, will gradually appear. When in yourselves you find the germs of compassion, and know that that is to be part of the dominating characteristic of the coming sub-race, then cherish these germs to the utmost. But remember that they must grow out of the germinal feeling of sympathy into the strong power to uplift and to save; for compassion is the great mark of the Saviour. And the Saviour is never weak, but strong, and out of his strength grows his compassion. You can test it for yourself. Having to deal with someone who is very slow, you are impatient. Why? Because you are weak. You are not strong enough to make a question clear with slow and deliberate intent, not strong enough to bear with the stupidity and feebleness.

The next great thing you want is the sense of unity, and that you can never have unless you are strong. There is nothing harder in the world than to pierce through a man’s weakness and his poor qualities, which are on the surface, and to see within the growing power of the God. Yet that is what you have to do if you would be truly wise. You see in the people around you to-day a large number of faults. How far do you see behind every fault the seed of divinity which will develop into a virtue? Has the old Platonic idea ever struck you, that there is no strong dividing line between the vice and virtue except the quantity which is present? The undeveloped virtue is a vice; the virtue in excess is also a vice. The golden mean between the two is the virtue. Take a common illustration—cowardice on one side, recklessness on the other. Courage is the mean between the two. And so in everything excess is vice, whether a defect or a surplusage, and the perfect equilibrium between them alone is virtue. If you would realise that for yourselves, wherever you see a vice in your neighbour, you will look through the vice to the virtue that shall be, and in the greatest faults of the present you learn to see the promise of the future. You find a person intolerant. He thinks you are a fool because you cannot see the same way as he. This is apt to wake in you a similar intolerance. But if you saw through the intolerance the growing though undeveloped love of virtue, if you saw through the intolerance the passionate desire to find the right and do it, the passionate hatred of all that does not seem right, you would be very patient; for presently the flower of the virtue will blossom out and show the beauty which all the time was within. You hear abuse, or slander, or calumny. You think it is hateful. But the person who is doing it in his ignorance is mistaken, and that is a reason for compassion, and not for anger. The more cruel the ignorance may make a person, the greater the demand for the compassion, which, because it understands all, overcomes all; nay, does not even overcome, because to overcome would mean separation; but realises the unity between oneself and another, and takes the weakness of another as one’s own. Now these things are well enough known in principle. Why not practise them? Why, in difficulties like those we have been passing through, should there be angry words on both sides? The Theosophist who understands has no room for anger, but only room for compassion. These are the things that in the sixth sub-race we shall want. All these must begin to grow now, and germinate in the heart of every one of you who would take part in the building of that coming sub-race. And hardest of all to develop, in a race where separateness has been the type of greatness, is the sense of unity. This sense of unity and of compassion will be a strength and power which is only one for service, which makes the measure of strength the measure of responsibility and of duty. And so your character will be marked—if you are a candidate for the sixth sub-race—will be marked by a great sense of duty, and a great indifference to what are called “rights.” There is a splendid word of Mazzini that “every right grows out of a duty discharged.” That is utterly true. It is the discharge of duty out of which inevitably the right grows, and then the right comes not by combat, but by the inevitable necessity of nature. Because where everyone discharges his duty, everyone enjoys his rights without conflict and without demand. The mark of our own sub-race is the demanding of our rights. But to those who know the law of karma there is nothing that need be claimed, because you possess all which is yours. The karma brings to you everything to which you have a right; and if what is called an injustice is done you, it is only the balancing up of an ancient wrong. You think people can hurt you. Then you do not believe in the law of karma. It is your own hand that strikes you, and no one else’s. No one can injure you or wrong you, no one can commit any injustice against you. The whole of that which you suffer comes out of your past. These people are mere puppets who come forward to claim the debt that you have to pay. If you really believed that, then the man who demands a debt from you would be your friend whom you would welcome; for karma’s debts are never demanded twice. There is no error in her account. But, as a matter of fact, hardly any of you believe it in actual life. What you profess does not make one scrap of difference. You do not believe unless you live what you say you believe. And if you believed it, you would know that no slander could wrong you, no injury hurt you, and that the words of the Christ on His way to His Passion were absolutely true: “You could do nothing at all against me except it were given you from above.” That is the secret of the patience of the Christs; they know the law, they live by it and accept it. And that utter belief in Law, and therefore the recognition of duty, that is another of the great marks of the race that is to be. Every one of you who works that out now in life, who, in face of an apparent wrong, is calm and receptive, who takes an injustice as a debt that is paid and cancelled, that man or woman is a candidate for the coming sub-race, and for the Root Race that shall be gathered out of its midst. For the sixth Root Race is to be taken out of the sixth sub-race that is now being born, and according to the qualities you make in yourselves will be the effectiveness of your candidature for both.

And now look at another side of that growing sub-race. I have laid most stress on qualities, because qualities shape form; but it is also true that the bodies of that sub-race will show a different type from the bodies of the present—will be far more sensitive to all the finer vibrations of matter, built up within the finer aggregations. And side by side with the development of the finer and more nervous physical body will be inevitably the greater organisation of the body that comes next, the astral, with its corresponding senses. Now notice how in the difference between the fourth and fifth Root Races it is the nervous system which is the greatest physical difference. Compare the nervous system of a Chinaman, or Japanese, with the nervous system of an Aryan, and you will see the enormous gulf that separates the two Races. A fourth Race man will recover easily from a tremendous laceration that would have killed a fifth Race man by mere nervous shock, and it is in your nervous system that there will be the great difference between the fifth and sixth Root Races, and the change will show in the sixth sub-race. You have to solve one of the hardest physical problems; to have a sensitive, delicate, complicated nervous system hand in hand with complete health. You can easily strain your system into sensitiveness, but that is different to refining it into sensitiveness, making it responsive to the most delicate vibrations from without, but with a perfect sanity and health. On that you can also work. By the deliberate use of meditation for the refining of the brain you can gradually build up—if you do not carry it to excess—an extreme sensitiveness, and at the same time perfect balance and sanity and health. You must not think that with fifth Race bodies you can bring about at once sixth Race characteristics; but within the limitations imposed upon you by your fifth Race bodies you can gradually develop an increasing sensitiveness which will react on the astral body, and organise and develop that at the same time. And you will find, if you will notice the people round you, that there are being born at the present time more and more children who show this delicate sensitiveness, hand in hand with generosity, with tenderness, with broadness of mind, with quick and keen intelligence. These are children who will gradually develop into the type of the new sub-race. When they become numerous, and become fathers and mothers in their turn, then they will gradually prepare for the birth of the children who will belong to the sixth Root Race. Within the one the other will be born. Hence all of you who are parents will do rightly and wisely to study carefully the characters and types of the children whom karma places in your hands for training. If you see in them the dawning powers of the coming sub-race, this greater sensitiveness, this tendency to see where many are blind, do not force it by unwise admiration, do not check it by equally unwise unbelief. Let the children of to-day grow up among the healthiest possible conditions, but also amongst the most refined that you can give them. Remember that in the training of the higher emotions beauty is an essential factor, and that without the bringing of beauty into home and daily life the birth and growth of the coming sub-race will be hindered. You have to war against the ugliness of the present-day civilisation. You have to strengthen the tendencies which are beginning to show themselves, and which make for beauty. You must realise that beauty is an essential part of utility; and that it is the most narrow-minded utility which thinks that beauty can be left on one side, and that the ugliness in daily life is not a retarding factor in the growth of the more refined sub-race that will partially take birth amongst us. These are very practical things. They deal with your daily life, with the home of every one of you, and the duties that fall upon you there. You must not let your Theosophy be outside your daily life. If Theosophy is to be the moulding force of the race that is to be born, it must show itself out in your lives, in your thought and action. It is the great privilege of the Theosophical Society to be the nucleus of that coming Root Race, and amongst our members there should be some at least ready to take part in the building of the sixth sub-race. You would not be amongst us if you had not had in you something to draw you along the lines of this swifter evolution. You hardly appreciate the forces of the past which have brought you into the Society. Some come in and drop out again. They are those who are coming in touch with it for the first time. Others come in and stay in for years, and then drop out. They are in a stage a little further on, and have been in it before, and will return to it in lives to come. There are some who, gripped by it from the beginning, never move again in their utter fealty to its ideals, whom no personalities can throw out of it, who belong to Theosophy rather than have Theosophy belonging to them. These are they who have been in it many a time before, and will come into it again, to live and die in it over and over again, life after life. Well for you who are here to-day that in the trials of the last few years you have not allowed personalities to blind you to principles, nor real or imaginary faults in persons to make you shrink in your loyalty to Theosophy itself. Persons die; principles live. Men and women pass away with their virtues and faults, but the Theosophical Society will endure generation after generation. Well for you if in the storm you have been able to stand firm; great the benediction that comes upon you that in the day of trial you have not denied your Master, in the day of suffering you have not forsaken and fled away.

Lecture II
The Immediate Future

You may remember that when we last met I spoke to you about the sixth sub-race, and my speech this evening turns on the same set of ideas, although from a different standpoint, rather more special to the Society than to the world at large. In this lecture I am concerned rather with the view of the nature of the Theosophical Society which was held in its earliest days, dropped a little out of sight, and is now being very generally recalled, so that the Society should rise to the height of its opportunity and do the work that lies before it in the immediate future. If you will turn back to the days of H. P. Blavatsky in India you will find she was fond of dwelling on a particular relation held by two of the Masters, primarily to the Society, and secondarily to the coming civilisation of which the Society is the herald. She used to refer her Hindu friends to the statements in their own Puranas, in which it was said that two Kings would come at the end of the Age, and that to them would be given the kingdom of the new and opening Age. These statements, which are often repeated, raised in the hearers the inquiry, “Who are the two Kings?” and then she gave them a hint that the two Kings of the Puranas were the two Masters who were the real Founders of the Theosophical Society. That set the keen brains of the students to work. They promptly began to try and find out what were the names of the two Kings. One of these students found it, wrote a paper, which was published with H. P. Blavatsky’s approval, giving the names of the two Kings—Moru and Devapi—two names mentioned in many of the Puranas in relation to the past history of the Hindus, one of them, Moru, belonging to the Solar Dynasty, descending directly from Rama, one of the Avataras—that before Shri Krshna—a great King, said to have retired from his throne and to have gone to Shamballa, there to wait until he was recalled to lead the human race; the other, whose name was given as Devapi, was the elder brother of the famous King of the Lunar Dynasty, to which the next Avatara belonged. He was the elder brother of the father of Bhishma, and he similarly gave up his right to the crown, retired to the same place, and the same phrase is used with regard to him, that he was to wait there the coming age. Now H. P. Blavatsky was very much delighted at the ingenuity of her students, and said that the outline was correct, and it was published. H. P. Blavatsky often referred to this function of the two Masters who were responsible for the founding of the Society. As in these latter days that idea of the Masters as the Founders of the Society has been challenged, I may perhaps say I have myself seen that fact stated in the writing of the Master “M.” I have read the letter in which He says that He and His fellow Adept “K. H.” had taken on themselves the responsibility of a new spiritual movement in the world; that there was some doubt in the Lodge as to the wisdom of the movement at that time; and that they were allowed to take that step only on the condition that they should found and work the Society through others whom they could direct and control. Then He went on to say that He had chosen a disciple of his own, H. P. Blavatsky, and that He had sent her to America to look for another disciple, H. S. Olcott, and that these were the outer founders of the Society. Hence to me and to many others who believe that these letters are genuine the nature of the origin of the Society cannot be a matter of doubt.

Starting, then, from that standpoint, we find certain things were said by H. P. Blavatsky as regards the nature of the Society, and certain things by the Masters themselves. Both are very important for us in consideration of the immediate future. The first of these things was indicated by hints which the more advanced students could understand—that the inner purpose of the Society was to prepare the world for the coming of a new Race, and to be itself the nucleus of that Race; that one of the Teachers was to be the Manu of the race, the other the Bodhisattva. Now those exact facts were unpublished at the time, but they passed from one to the other among the more advanced students of that period. Coming into the Society in 1889, this particular fact did not come within my knowledge until 1895. After the Coulomb struggle the Society for a time dropped away from the occult path on which H. P. Blavatsky had started it, and these ideas fell out of sight and were forgotten except by a limited number. In 1895 they were re-communicated to myself by my own Master, and have since been passed on to the older members of the Theosophical Society.

Let us pause for a moment on the statement with regard to the Manu and Bodhisattva. Every Root Race has for its guide a great Adept, much higher than the great ones we call the Masters, and that office filled by a mighty Being is an office the name of which indicates simply the man, the thinker. The connotation is the ideal, typical man, making rather the emphasis on the article “the.” The name is peculiarly suitable, because each of these Manus at the head of the Root Race is the type of the Race over which he is to preside. The types of the seven Races are part of the plan of the Planetary Logos, and that plan is worked out, stage after stage, by the Manus of the races. It is left to the Manu Himself how He shall proceed with His work. He takes the responsibility of the method He chooses. When the time comes to plan out the new Race, then the coming Manu begins to take up His office, and always in connection with another great Brother of His own rank, who is called the Bodhisattva. The Manu of the Fifth Race, as you know, collected His people together out of the fifth sub-race of the Fourth Root Race, sent out messengers to call them together, brought them together, moulded them generation after generation, and at last evolved them to the necessary physical type. For the work of the Manu is double: to choose out those who show in consciousness the germs of the new stage which is to evolve in the coming Race; then, having chosen them out and stimulated that germ within them, to set to work to shape the necessary bodies. Now in that far-off time our own Manu of the fifth Root Race had to choose materials out of the fifth sub-race, and He did not choose at all those who were regarded as the best specimens of the day. Remember that the fourth sub-race, like the fourth Root Race as a whole, showed out very powerfully all the passional characteristics and the psychic qualities which accompanied them. It was the fourth sub-race, the Toltec, which made the great Empire, with the city of the Golden Gate as metropolis, that whose armies spread over the known world, conquering everywhere, and in that sub-race psychic qualities naturally played a great part. You will remember that at the earlier stage of great emotional and passional manifestation, psychic qualities are very largely developed before the development of the lower mind. That evolution belongs to the astral body as a whole, working not through the astral chakras, but through the astral centres connected with our physical senses. The fourth sub-race carried all that to the highest point. Children in the schools were picked out for their paths in life by clairvoyance; and in all matters of policy, statecraft, etc., clairvoyants were consulted, so that by the exercise of the psychic qualities they might get the best possible knowledge to be had at the time. Now the characteristics of the fifth sub-race were the diminution of psychic power and the germinating of the seed of mind, and these two things necessarily went together, so that, as that fifth sub-race developed, the people of it were rather looked down upon by the highly evolved psychic sub-race which preceded it. These people seemed to be inferior; they could not use the powers which put their predecessors in the very forefront of civilisation, and made this world and the astral world almost one and the same. The children born with very little of these psychic powers, the men and women who showed still less of it, were by no means thought to have within them the promise of the future. Yet out of these the Manu chose His material, because they showed the germ of the mind which was specially wanted as the characteristic of the coming Race. It did not matter that it was only a germ, or that they were much less effective than the people of the mighty civilisation in which they appeared. He was looking to the future, and so these people were by no means the people whom the Atlanteans of the day would have chosen if consulted in the matter. But the great people do not always consult with the smaller people, who are so very sure of the rightness of their own judgment. They have an uncomfortable way of following their own ideas; and, as the Master “M” once said of some people who remarked that He did not come up to their idea of an Adept, “The mark of the Adept is not kept at Simla.” And that sentence is rather a good one to remember. So also the mark of the disciple is not kept in London or in Chicago, but in a very different part of the world, and to that those who know something about it try to conform. So the choice of the Manu of the day would have been regarded as a very poor one by the wise folk of the time. Nevertheless he carried away his people and built them up into a great Race.

Now there is something very instructive in that when we try to understand the method of His choice in the light of the past, and the analogy of principles. For we can see that if the germs of a sixth sub-race—from which, later, a sixth Root Race will be born—are to be chosen out by Him from the materials that the fifth sub-race affords, then the nature of His choice probably will not be that which would be made by the leaders of that fifth sub-race itself. Theirs to carry on to the highest point the concrete, scientific mind, which is the glory of their sub-race. Theosophists sometimes ask: “Why do not the great men of Science come into the Theosophical Society?” Simply because they have their own work to do; and their work at present is not to build the future civilisation, but to lead to its highest point the present one. In the future, when they shall have led that civilisation to the highest point, and when it has taken its place at the head of the world’s thought, then will come the time for these great minds to be reborn into another race, and build on the splendid intellectual foundation they have laid. The work of the world is the end that the great Ones consider, and these strong scientific minds to-day are needed by the world to carry on the present civilisation to the highest point. How unwise it would be to take them away from the work that no one else can do, and set them to other work they would do badly, not having turned their energies to the particular qualifications that are wanted for it. And so in the wise plan of the Manu of the fifth Race, the flower of the fifth or Teutonic sub-race is taken in order that it may be raised up to the highest point of the manasic civilisation, and be carried on to its zenith of splendour of scientific knowledge. But meanwhile it is His duty to help in the building up of the other types—still his Race is the sixth sub-race—and so to co-operate with His successor the Manu of the sixth Root Race. For remember the Manu of all the sub-races of a Root Race is the same. He is the Manu of the whole Race; when the time comes for beginning the new Root Race, then the Manu of the Race that is regnant co-operates with the Manu of the Race which is to come. Hence He who is to be the Manu of the sixth Root Race, the Master “M,” the Moru of the Puranas, He has begun His work. And He has begun it in a humble and insignificant fashion, as the world would say, by striking the keynote of Brotherhood, and by drawing into a Society those whose hearts thrill responsive to that note. And why? Because the higher emotion that answers to universal Brotherhood, to love of all, without distinction of race, sex, caste, colour, or creed—that is the emotion, that is the germ of the buddhic principle in man, the principle of unifying, of drawing the separated together, of blending into one separate individualities, and making them realise the spiritual unity which overshadows and underlies them all. Hence universal Brotherhood is the only thing which is binding on members of the Theosophical Society. Nothing else. The Theosophical teachings as to Karma, Reincarnation, or the Masters, are not binding on the mind or conscience of any member. This is an important point. It is not only because a truth is better seen by the unfettered intellect than by an intellect on which a dogma is imposed, though that is of importance; but because the material which can be moulded into the Coming Race is the material that can recognise the necessity and the beauty of universal Brotherhood, and if that be recognised, nothing else for the moment is necessary. Hence that is the only binding principle. Hence, also, the attempts to narrow it down, prompted by those Dark Powers who do not desire that the Society should grow and prosper for thousands of years to come, the attempts to put in a little restraint here and a little obstacle there, judging for the moment, and not for the future. That is the inner meaning of having that one thing alone our bond of union. And so the Manu made that the keynote to attract those who would answer, “Yes; that is the very thing I want to join in and help.” And so the nucleus of the great sixth Root Race began to be formed. But that is not an immediate future, although already beginning. The sixth sub-race is the immediate future; under the rule of the Manu of the fifth still, but co-operating with the Manu of the Sixth, in order that those who show signs of being fit material for the Coming Race may have a preliminary practise of the virtues of that race. Hence the stress that H. P. Blavatsky laid on this inner side of the working of the Theosophical Society; and hence the need, because the time is passing rapidly, to make public what has been kept private in the past of this inner purpose, which has really dominated the Society from within, although not recognised without.

Let us see how that immediate future should be recognised in its characteristics, and thus prepared for. First of all we must understand the words spoken long ago under the inspiration of the coming Bodhisattva, that the Theosophical Society was to be “the corner-stone of the future religion of humanity.” Now every sub-race has a special religion, as it were. The religion of the fifth sub-race is Christianity. What is the future religion of humanity in this sense? It differs from all that have gone before. It is no longer an exclusive and separatist faith, but a recognition that in every religion the same truths are found; that there is only one true religion, the Divine Wisdom; and that every separate religion is true just so far as it incorporates the main teachings of that Divine Wisdom. The one supreme religion is the Knowledge of God; to that everything else is subsidiary. Just in so far as any special religion puts within the reach of its followers the means for rising to that supreme knowledge, in so far is that religion worthy of its place. And when that supreme test is not thoroughly answered—when dogmas, and ceremonies, and rites become more important than this inner truth of the gaining of individual knowledge of the Supreme—then the religion becomes narrower, weaker, unspiritual, until a time comes when either the religion must die or a new impulse must be poured into it to bring it back to its original position, a channel for the knowledge of God. Now, in the past many religions have done their work and passed away, and we come to the present time, when certain great religions are living. And when the great new spiritual impulse came, it was not charged with the building of a new religion, but with the vitalising of those great existing religions, to make them realise their underlying foundation; they were vivified in order to help them to rise to a more spiritual and mystic interpretation of their teachings; and when that was done, they were to be blended together into a brotherhood of Religions, so that all should recognise the Divine Wisdom as their root. That was the first work of the Theosophical Society. It was done all over the world. See how in India Hinduism was revived; in Ceylon, Buddhism. Ask the ordinary missionary who comes over here, who is not generally very broad-minded, and he will tell you that the great opponent of Christianity in the East is the Theosophical Society. Then, if you press him and ask, “But are Theosophists antagonistic to you?” “No,” he will say, “but they strengthen the other religions, and thus prevent our making converts.” And that is true. It is not our business to convert people from one religion to another, but to try to make every one realise the splendour of his own religion. Naturally, in India—except in Travancore, where there has been a Christian Roman Catholic colony from the very early centuries of the Church—Christianity is an alien religion, and only grows by injuring the older religions of the land. Naturally, then, the missionaries look on the Theosophical Society as an opponent, because it has been the great factor in the revival of Hinduism, Buddhism, Zoroastrianism, and is beginning to be a factor in the revival of Muhammadanism. Now, when you see that, and when you come to the West and see how the same influence has been widening the Christian Church, how mystical Christianity is spreading everywhere in a way that would have seemed incredible some three years ago—see how narrow it was, and look now, how everywhere the mystic thought is spreading, and see how, in the Roman Catholic Church, the spreading of this spirit has become so wide that the Pope is forced into fulminating against it, and in the Modernism that he condemns we find Theosophy mentioned as one of the forms—you will realise that that part of the work is almost done. I do not mean that we are not to continue spreading abroad more spiritual ideas, but that the work has been done so effectively already that it is almost passing into the hands of the religions themselves. The clergy are now preaching so much Theosophy that it hardly seems necessary to continue preaching the parts they have adopted. The Theosophical teaching as to the nature of the Christ in His birth in the human form, and His growth into Divine Manhood—how common a doctrine that is now within all the Churches of the West. The fact of Reincarnation is also becoming more and more widely accepted—a doctrine no longer to be laughed at, but to be carefully argued over, and forming a part of the deepest thought of the Christian world. So that while we must still go on with that part of the work, there are other parts of our work now that we ought to be ready to take up. That religion of the future which is to include all the religions as sects within itself, all of them going on into the future, but recognising themselves as a Brotherhood, that is to be the dominant religious thought of the great sixth Root Race, and in the sixth sub-race we shall find it spreading everywhere. Now, how mighty will be the advantage; because the moment all religions are seen to be branches of one stock, then each religion can share with others the specialty which it has been its duty to develop in the world. And nowadays, when the Christian goes to India, instead of trying to convert the Hindu, which he can never do, what he ought to do is to offer to share with him that great special characteristic of Christianity, the principle of self-sacrifice, and the helping of the weaker by the stronger—the dominant note of Christianity. It is the doctrine of the Cross, the emblem of self-sacrifice, of the coming down to the depressed in order to lift them, leading them up side by side with ourselves. That is the noblest thought of Christendom, typified in the mystic Christ; and that you might well offer to share with the Hindus, for that does not come out so strongly in their great Faith. Rather will they bring to you in exchange the doctrine of the immanence of God. Two things, Dr. Miller has written, Hinduism brings to the world: the immanence of God, and the solidarity of man. When religions exchange their best instead of finding out each other’s weaknesses, then you have outlined the religion of the future. Our work in that future is to continue what we have so well begun, and spread this liberal, thoughtful, religious ideal through all religions, destroying none, but permeating all.

Next we have to consider what we ought to do in the training of the next generation; for there is great need that the Theosophical ideal of education should spread through Western minds, and especially through Britain and its empire. Religious education at the present time is in peril; how great that peril is may be measured by the Moral Education Congress gathered together in London last year to try to find a moral basis that should furnish education apart from all the sanctions of religion—a hopeless task, but none the less a sign of the peril of the times. Now, we have had secular education in India. It has been the English education the Government has given there. It could not give any other because of the different religions of the country, and it was bound not to help any one of these to the detriment of the others. The moral result has been disastrous. It has fostered selfishness, indifference to the country, lack of public spirit. It has given us a race of men who have acquired from the West its superficial qualities, but not its inner strength, not its inner capacity. And the troubles you have in India now are largely the result of this anti-religious education, which has made hundreds of the best Indian type skeptics, a thing which has only been checked with the growth of the Theosophical Society throughout India. We have turned back that irreligious wave, with the result that the Indian Government to-day regards the Theosophical Society as the most likely agency for training the youth of India along lines of freedom and order at the same time. They realise that we have put our finger on the weak point in their own system, and that our plan of giving to the child the religion of his parents is really the way to solve that religious problem in India. Now, over here you have to face the problem how to preserve religion while letting dogmatism go; how to find a common ground, a few common principles, which all Christians inculcate, leaving to a later time in life the special sectarian divisions which the young man and woman can acquire later if they wish. Now, in that the Theosophical Society may well play a great part in the immediate future, strengthening all the influences which make for the keeping of religion as an integral part of education, helping to soften the bitter sectarianism, and persuade the different denominations to remember that they are Christians more than that they belong to this, that, or the other denomination. If we succeed in that, then the service to the education of the empire will be supreme.

Along other lines we want, if we can, to persuade the public mind to become a little more receptive of new ideas; to lose a little of its pride, and learn a little humility. Unless we are quite sure that we are at the very top of human evolution, and that nothing greater than ourselves can be evolved, then it would be the part of wisdom to recognise that the next type, which is the type of the future, must be different from the type of the present, and, in the beginning of its evolution, new and strange. You may remember how J. S. Mill, in speaking of liberty, laid immense stress on originality, and complained that modern methods were tending to make all come to a single level; to do away with the eccentric, even with the original. Now, for growth, variety is wanted. Where there is no spontaneous variation in types, you have stagnation. And yet every one of us is so fond of our own particular line of thought that we take it almost as an offence if someone starts a new thought which we cannot at once fit into our own mental grooves. Now, we must try to correct that, first in ourselves, and then in the public at large, especially in view of the coming of that mighty Teacher I have spoken of. When He comes, the type of the sixth Root Race, He must be very different from all of us, otherwise He would not be the type of the new departure. How can we avoid treating Him when He comes exactly as our predecessors of the fourth sub-race treated Him when He came last to start the fifth? It is so easy for all of us, looking back to the mighty Figure of the Christ, to realize something of its splendour, but we see Him through the glamour of the religion which has made His name supreme in many of your hearts. Try and put yourselves back in time, and see how strange that new type would have then seemed to you, how against all your prejudices. So different was He that He raised an antagonism so bitter that they could not bear Him amongst them for more than three years, and then murdered Him. It is hard for us to realise that. We are apt to think, “If I had been there, I would have stood beside Him; I would not have been amongst those who slew Him.” And yet there is no particular reason to think we should not have done the same. It is a great lesson for the immediate future. For when He comes again to bless this beginning of a sixth sub-race, the buddhic, He will show out the qualities of Buddhi prominently, and those are by no means very acceptable to the modern world. Look fairly at your own minds and see how you stand on your rights. It is the spirit of the time. If you have not what you think your rights, you make a clamour for them. For the manasic civilisation that is the proper way, but those who want to go on in the new future that is dawning have to throw all that aside. You must relinquish your “rights.” If you are trampled on, you must recognise that it is only yourself of the past trampling on yourself of the present: no one can trample on you except a person who embodies your own past injustice, and is working out that which you yourself have created. That is a very unpopular view, as unpopular as the Sermon on the Mount. And so along many other lines of that which is admirable from the popular standpoint—power, dominance, the spirit which tramples down all opposition. How different from that of the Wisdom which rules, but rules from within, “mightily and sweetly ordering all things.” And if you will think over this in detail and work it out, you will find you will have to change your ideal of what is admirable, and build up on ideal on the basis of Spirit and unity, and not on rights and claims. And that is one reason why the Theosophical ideals very often find themselves rejected in the outer world. Those are the qualities needed for the world as it shall be; and if we are to be builders of that immediate future, we must develop them in ourselves. But you may say: “Is it not rather a big assertion to make that this Theosophical Society is really a nucleus of a great Root Race; that it is the beginning of a sub-race? What right have you to make such a claim?” The answer is, that looking back to the last choice, we should expect to find the beginning of the new Race and new sub-race among those who were not the leaders of the present, but had in them the germ of the future. That is why our people are gathered not from the leaders and the thinkers, but from the loving, the compassionate, the brotherly. It seems a feeble thing, this power of Brotherhood. It is the mightiest thing in all the world. And although it is true that we cannot expect to find amongst us men and women of magnificent intellect and overwhelming power of thought, we may expect to find amongst us the compassionate, the gentle, and the loving, and those give the plastic material which will yield itself to the fingers of the Manu to be moulded into a new type, a higher evolution. Hence, from time to time the great shakings that take place to shake out those who are too purely intellectual, and who do not think the word Brotherhood is a word that ought to be heard so much amongst us. The Masters have chosen Brotherhood as our mark, and we cannot march in Their army if we will not bear Their sign. And so, if mind makes us too self-assertive, too sure of our own superiority, then we must be shaken out of this movement. So do not in this immediate future be troubled if we still continue to go along our own quiet road of attracting the loving and the gentle rather than those who are mighty in their intellectual power. The thing of vital importance is the Spirit of Brotherhood, and that we must never let go. And remember, in the whole of the struggles of the future, as in those of the past, that they must always rage round persons, and those who think more of personalities than of principles are inevitably shaken out. If you make a person’s presence or absence a reason for being in or out of the Society, you are showing the spirit of separation, which cannot realise a principle, but thinks only of the passing and transient personality. What can it matter whether any one of you agrees or disagrees with Mr. Leadbeater, or with Mr. Mead, or with anyone else? These are all persons. The principle of the Society remain unshaken. Presidents are elected and Presidents die, but the Society goes on. What folly, then, to give up a place in a mighty movement because the person temporarily at the head of it is a person who does not exactly fit into the shape you have made as your own particular ideal. It does not matter. The Society is not bound by its President any more than by anyone else. It is bound only by its great central principle of Brotherhood. And so all of you who have stood through the past shaking have shown that you care more for principles than for persons, and it does not matter whether, so to speak, you have agreed or disagreed with the President so long as you have stood firm within the Society; for there lies the principle, whilst the other is only personality. Cling, then, to that principle to which you have clung through the past storm; recognise that whether a person be right or wrong, noble or ignoble, great or small, that is a matter of secondary importance. The work of the future lies in the movement, and not in the hands of any particular individual who may happen to be here. Whether you or I come back to this great movement in other lives depends on ourselves, and not on the opinion that anyone else may happen to have about us. None can throw us out of it if we are worthy to remain in it; none can keep us in it if we are unworthy to be part of it. And realising karmic law, realising the greatness of the movement and its work in the future, let us join hands, whether we agree or disagree with each other on any other matter save that of Brotherhood, and go forward into the future that is unfolding before us, brighter than ever the past has shone; go forward to the making of the sub-race out of which the Root Race shall spring, under the banner of our Manu and our Bodhisattva, the mighty Ones of years and millennia to come.

Lecture III
The Catholic and Puritan Spirit in the Theosophical Society
The Value and Danger of Each

I want to try to trace out the somewhat difficult subject of the place of the Puritan and the Catholic Spirit in our Society. I want to show that both types are necessary in every great movement; that both have their value and place, yet also their dangers. And if we realise that both are necessary, it may help each type to be tolerant as regards the other, and to see that each has its dangers.

Now, all the world over these two types are found; they are, in fact, two marked temperaments, intellectual and emotional, into which, roughly, you might throw almost all thoughtful and educated people, and even the thoughtless and ignorant, for those also will show similar types, although naturally less attractively, because more extreme, than they may be among the class of people who at least are seeking to understand themselves, and to gain some measure of equilibrium. Looked at from the outside, the Catholic type is certainly the more attractive, and therefore I want to impress upon you the value of the Puritan type; because, being less attractive, its value is more likely to be overlooked. If the Puritan spirit were completely lost, mankind would lack that vigour and strength and tendency to free thought and free judgment which are so essential to human evolution. Unfortunately, it has often been united with a very cold and forbidding exterior; and if we take the two types as we find them in the reign of Charles I., certainly the Puritan is not very attractive from outside—hard, rather sour, forbidding, and austere. But it is not quite fair to judge the Puritan by that type in the reign of the Stuarts. It is not fair to pick out a type at the moment where these two difficulties face it—danger to itself, and the extreme evil of the type it is opposing. It is hardly fair to take that moment for a judgment of the value of the temperament in itself. But even if you take the Puritan of the time of Charles I. and Cromwell, you can hardly help noticing, if you go beyond externals, the extreme moral value of that type amid those difficult and dangerous surroundings. Austere as it was, it was the austerity that was trying to guard itself against continual danger of pollution, and naturally it ran into extremes, as all reactions run, with the inevitable result that another reaction followed on the first, and you had the loose and profligate type of the Court of Charles II. It is the types I want to disentangle from these special manifestations, and, looking at them apart, from all conditions that may emphasise one characteristic or another.

Now, in what does the Puritan type exactly consist? It seems to consist in an attitude of protest and criticism rather than of ready acceptance of the prevailing thought of the time. The Puritan mind is essentially critical, and critical in the modern sense of the term, which, instead of making the critic a judge, makes him an opponent and condemner. We must remember, however, that the true critical spirit is absolutely necessary for human progress, even though it often slips into condemnation and cynicism. The Puritan is always intellectual (I am speaking of the purer type), a man in whom mind is predominant. He is of the type that tends to separation rather than unity; he stands alone, sufficient for himself (I say that rather than “self-sufficient,” the second form connoting a rather unpleasant quality). We must realise the strength of this type. The strength may slip into austerity, but that very largely grows out of the religion to which the Puritan may happen to be attached. You do not find him in his more aggressive form unless he is protesting against something he regards as dangerous and mischievous. Naturally, under these considerations he is thrown into the attitude of combat, and hence all that is harshest and most hostile inevitably comes to the surface. But that is not a necessary part of the Puritan spirit. Looking at him as the intellectual man in whom emotion in this particular life is comparatively weak, or if not weak, repressed; seeing that in him the mental qualities are those which in this incarnation he specially endeavours to develop; understanding that the mind can only be developed where the qualities of analysing, comparing, and judging are active, you can readily see how, in the face of opposition, these qualities would turn into antagonism and protest. But I do not think antagonism and protest are a necessary part of the Puritan spirit. In peaceful times your Puritan would be distinguished rather as the analytical or intellectual man, most valuable to any community into which he may be thrown at the time. For you cannot develop the mind without developing these analysing qualities: synthesis comes later, the one belonging to the lower, the other to the higher Manas. Both need to be developed. While the lower Manas is developing, you must have these qualities of analysis, comparison, and judgment without which it is not possible to lay a strong foundation for any belief. You must recognise the utter necessity for the challenging, questioning, even doubting and sceptical spirit. Only by means of this can error be detected, and the traditions that come down from the past be gradually purified of the accretions that have come to them during the ignorant periods through which they may have passed. To be sceptical is no fault, but rather a virtue. If there is to be progress at all, there must be challenging of that which has come down from the past, so that, testing, analysing, criticising, you may be able to separate the truth from the error. How would religion become ever more and more spiritual if men are only to inherit, and never to examine and understand? And since no religion or other form of thought can ever come down through centuries without picking up a large amount of error, if we had not this critical and challenging spirit all religions would grow into superstitions, and that which is most valuable for the race would gradually be covered under a mass of ignorant error. Hence at certain times in the history of the race a great outburst of the Puritan spirit is necessary. That alone will bring about fundamental changes, religious, moral, and social; that alone has the courage to go forward whilst in a minority, and test with the test of reason every belief and every tradition. We must not, then, blind ourselves to the immense value of this spirit in the intellectual development of man. For always, inasmuch as religious and social order has come by some great Teacher enormously beyond his own generation in religious, moral, and social development, inevitably his teachings, handed down generation after generation, will in many respects tend to be covered with superstition.

Let us pause for a moment and see what the word “superstition” means. I do not think I can give a better definition than my old one: “superstition is the taking of the non-essential as the essential.” I think that you will find that that covers all the cases which you would call superstitions—a truth originally; but in every truth there are necessary and accessory parts. As the understanding of the truth is clouded, the accessories take on too large a value in the minds of people, until at last the accessory is everything and the essential nothing.

I told once an Indian story which marks out clearly what is superstition. There was once a very holy man in the habit of offering a sacrifice by pouring butter into the fire—one of the ordinary Hindu ceremonies. Morning after morning he duly performed this rite. He was much admired by his neighbours, and the regularity of the discharge of his religious duties led them to consider him a model worthy of imitation. This good man happened to have a cat. As he was kindly-hearted and affectionate, the cat loved him, and used to come up and interrupt his religious service; so he put a collar round the cat and tied it to the bedpost to prevent interruptions. Time went on, a few generations passed, and then all of the people who copied this admirable saint not only offered the sacrifice, but also considered it a part of the rite to have a cat tied to the bedpost. Still more time went on, until at last all that remained of the original ceremony was the cat tied to the bedpost and nothing else. Now there is superstition: the harmless accessory had become necessary, until it occupied the whole of the worshippers’ minds. This is often the case in religions which have lasted long, and have had many ignorant adherents. They cannot distinguish between the inner meaning and the outer form; and gradually the outer form becomes everything, and the inner meaning disappears. Then comes the time when, superstition having taken the place of truth, there rises up the critical intellect of man, attacks the whole, and challenges the authority. Only sometimes the critic is not evolved enough to recognise the truth at the same time that he wars against the error. More often he takes the whole as superstition and tries to destroy it completely. There you have the history of many reformations. Take the great Reformation of the sixteenth century. If you look back to that you will see that an enormous amount of valuable truth was thrown aside in trying to get rid of the surface error with which the truth had been covered. And so in tracing down the growth of the Puritan spirit from the time of Luther, through Calvinistic Switzerland, up to Scotland with John Knox, and then looking at it as it spread over England, and became so powerful under James I. and Charles I., you will recognise that in the whole of that there is a gradual throwing away of everything that the mind could not grasp and understand, and consequently a great loss of the spiritual side of things. The result of that historically has been that the truth that was thrown away in the getting rid of the error came back again a little later. And so with certain fundamental tendencies in man, against which the Puritan of that time set himself utterly—the use of images in public worship, the use of music, the use of garments different from the everyday garments, and so on—all these points that he threw aside as part of the Papal abomination came back again, slowly, steadily, gradually spreading through the whole of the Anglican Church. So that you have this remarkable object-lesson, which it would be well for all Puritan-spirited people to remember. You may visit a cathedral to-day. Outside the cathedral you will see the statues which were broken by Cromwell’s soldiery; and inside the cathedral, on or round the high altar and chancel, you will see the modern statues placed there in order to help the devotional spirit in the congregation.

I have purposely taken the Puritan spirit outside the Theosophical Society so that you may look at it apart from any special question of interest to our own Society. If you see the value of that in religion, you will welcome its presence in the Theosophical Society. You will realise that that spirit is wanted in order to balance and keep in check what might otherwise be the excess of the Catholic spirit. You will realise that our critical friends are doing us an immense service in their criticism, and that it only becomes mischievous when the critical spirit grows into antagonism and dislike, which need not at all accompany it, and should not accompany it in a well-balanced and thoughtful mind. We must have that spirit amongst us, otherwise the enthusiastic will run away too rapidly and fall into error. The chill that sometimes it causes is a very valuable element for mental growth. We do not want to have nothing but chill—that will prevent growth altogether; but if we were more tolerant with each other, then we might have the advantage of the chill, which would keep the intellectual atmosphere clear and sharp, without having the very life chilled out of us by criticism.

Let us now pause on what we mean by the Catholic spirit. By that I mean the spirit which is reverent of tradition, which is willing to submit to reasonable and recognised authority, which is willing to take a great plan and co-operate in it, and realise that the presence of the architect of the plan, if He be a person highly developed, say a Master, is enough to give it authority, and that there is no lack of freedom or dignity in accepting the plan of a greater, and working it out to the utmost of one’s ability. It is the spirit which, largely emotional, when it rises into love of the higher and becomes devotion, causes sympathetic vibrations on the buddhic plane, and so begins the awakening of the Spirit above the intellect. Again, with this Catholic spirit you always find the love of beauty. It is artistic. It seeks to clothe thought in forms of beauty. It loves ceremonial, takes a pleasure in harmonised expression of thought, and desires that everything round it should be emotionally satisfactory as well as intellectually sound. Moreover, its mind is eminently teachable, where the Puritan is not. Hence it is far easier to lead it along the path of what is called Occultism. The Catholic mind very readily recognises that those above itself in development may be able by guidance and teaching to help it to reach knowledge which, unaided, it would be unable to achieve. The Puritan would walk alone; the Catholic would utilise every assistance that can be given in evolution, including the assistance of human beings more highly developed, as well as of spiritual intelligences. And so you have round it an atmosphere which readily responds to impulses from the spiritual worlds, and always with this spirit you find the tendency toward Occultism of various kinds. I do not think you ever find that tendency in connexion with the Puritan spirit. You may find with the Puritan spirit sometimes a lofty form of mysticism, a recognition of a Spirit as the Life of the universe, and an attempt to realise that Spirit within oneself. That you may reach largely by way of the intellect, and emotion is not necessarily concerned in it. Intellectually you may realise unity, and then pass into the mystical ideal of the One in the Many, to be recognised in each. And you do find occasionally in the great Puritans of the past a very noble, though somewhat stern and cold, form of mystical belief; whereas the moment you come to Catholic mysticism, you find yourself in an atmosphere charged with emotion. The Catholic Mystic is swept up in a great surge of emotion to the Object of his love; the Puritan Mystic calmly, almost coldly, recognises the greatness of the Object of his worship, intellectually tries to realise, and by that to some extent unifies himself with It. You have an example of the Puritan Mystic in Cromwell. Read his letters, read the letters of the man, wrung out of his heart by the strain of doubt and despair, and clinging, in spite of all temptation, to his belief in the reality of a Divine Power whose instrument he was. You will rise from that reading with a new idea of the strength of the man, and realise that with all that strength there was the recognition of the strength of God and of his own strength as being only an instrument in the divine hands. But you never find the Puritan Mystic the expression of love, of passionate affection, that are so common among the Catholic Mystics; and more than anything else is the difference marked when you come to deal with Occultism.

And there, in our own Society, is a point we ought to pause upon. The Catholic type amongst us will be one that will readily respond to the idea of the Masters, the Puritan less quickly. The Catholic mind in the Theosophist will not only recognise the ideal of the Masters, but will be fired with a desire to tread the path that They have trodden. There will be a looking up of reverence, an outstretching of the hand for guidance; a realisation that by that dependence more rapid progress may be made than along any other line. That which is invisible will exercise a potent attraction; he will always be trying to know something of the invisible worlds and their inhabitants, he will always be reaching out toward these worlds and trying to expand his consciousness into communication with them. He will be willing to train himself with that in view, and you will have in him the possibility of the Occultist which you will not find in the Puritan type. For you cannot begin this part of occult knowledge along the purely intellectual lines. The intellectual exertion will check at once the evolution of the other vehicles. The moment you begin to think: “What am I doing? Is it imagination? Is it hallucination?” you check the growth of the subtler faculties of the man. You are obliged for a time to go on without questions, feeling, sensing, groping, and refusing to allow the mind to come in with its analysing spirit, that chills everything down so much that these budding faculties, as it were, shrink back from the touch of the frost, refusing to unfold. “Well,” you say, “there is a danger. The person may become overcredulous, may be utterly led astray.” True. It is the necessary danger of all such research. Only step by step do you learn by experience to distinguish between the true and false, between the thought-forms created by yourself and the inhabitants of other worlds into which you are penetrating with half-opened eyes. But remember that distinguishing does not do away with the reality of the thought-form. Your own thought-forms which surround you when you first pass on to the astral plane are real forms in astral matter. They deceive you, yes, because they are your own creations, and only give you back the things you are thinking about. They repeat to you your own thoughts, and there lies the element of danger. But you can only outgrow that by experience, exactly in the same way that the baby learns that it cannot catch hold of the glittering thing at the end of the room, but, to reach it, must cover a great deal of space. You do not think it heartbreaking because the baby makes mistakes. You are content that he shall learn. Why not be as philosophical about yourselves? You know that they will grow out of their ignorance by experience. So will you. Those who always want to be right are people who will never make Occultists. The Occultist must be ready to plunge forward, and possibly tumble into a bog, but be ready to go on again afterwards, learning by experience to understand. Those who will not face this have not enough of the Catholic spirit to make Occultists, and had better leave it for another incarnation.

There is another danger, one especially seen here—the dependence upon another. I have often been asked: “How can you develop independence and judgment if you are always trying to do the will of another, whom you call your Master?” The answer is simple. You look to your Master for direction, and He may point you to some work to be done. You take the work because He told you to do it. So far you are the obedient servant; but your judgment, your reason, all your thought-power, all your initiative, are taxed to the utmost in the achievement of the task. A sensible Occultist never goes running to his Master and asking, “How shall I do this?” He knows that is not the Master’s work. The Master has done His part in saying “Do that.” How you do it tests you, and brings out your strength and weakness. And the Master is far too wise to prevent your bringing out your strength and discovering your weakness by doing for you what He has told you to do. Hence the Occultist develops all his faculties in the attempt to do his Master’s will. The two things work well together, and he does not become weak but strong in realising that the Master is greater than he, and knows far better the plan of the work, while he himself, in carrying out his own portion of it, finds full employment for every faculty of brain and heart.

It is scarcely possible for the typical Puritan to become an Occultist in the life in which this side is being so strongly developed. You cannot understand everything when you go into unknown worlds; and unless you are willing to be ignorant, there is no possibility of discovering new knowledge. Every pioneer of science—to quote, I think, Faraday—“runs about like a dog with his nose to the ground, trying to find out a trail.” That is exactly the way of the experimenter. You must search for yourself for the trace which will guide you to the desired knowledge; and if you will not do that, you must take the results of others, and be content with these results for this life.

But, now, how will these two types of spirit work when they come to, say, such a question as that of Mr. Leadbeater? You will have at once the working of the critical intelligence which sees faults more readily than virtues, and bad motives more readily than good. That is its weakness. But it also has its value in pointing out certain dangers into which the Society might otherwise slip. The Catholic spirit will be far more ready to take it for granted that one from whom they have learned much, whom they know to have far vaster knowledge than their own, may have some other reason which they do not see, which would justify to the doer what he has done, and they do not feel that curious sense that they must save their neighbours’ souls, whether their neighbours desire it or not. They are content to say, “This is my road, that is his”—a wider and more generous spirit. Nevertheless, I think we should do well also to recognise that the presence in the Society of the critical and even judging spirit has at some times its value. But it is not a foundation on which anything can be built, and that is sometimes forgotten. You cannot build an enduring edifice on the grounds of protest against someone else. It cannot endure. It is curious to notice that the same people who condemn personality when the tendency of the personality is love and devotion, are the people who show personality most strongly when they antagonise and dislike. I admit to the full that principle should guide, not personality; but I cannot admit that a love for a personality is wrong, whilst a hatred of a personality is right and admirable. Both may put persons above principles if the two come into clash. And it is putting a personality above a principle when you desert the Theosophical Society, forgetting the great principles which make it immortal, and leave it, protesting against it, because one or two people hold views with which you do not agree. It is the ne plus ultra of personality. Mr. Leadbeater and Mrs. Besant are both comparatively old, and cannot at the most live very long. What utter folly, then, to desert the great principles incarnated in the Society because of the antagonism of two transitory personalities! If Theosophy be anything at all, then it is everything in life, and is not to be given up for anyone, whether saint or criminal. Suppose a hundred murderers were members of the Society, is that any reason why you or I should go out of it? It seems to me that the fact that we disapprove of that so much is a reason for staying in the Society, in order to strengthen it in the hour of its peril and to carry it through.

We need in the whole of this to study our own nature first, and find out our weak points, and then to guard against that weakness in the time of storm and stress. And we need, more than that, to realise that very often when people oppose us, they oppose us because of their virtues, and not because of their vices. That is, that the people who are utterly against me now are against me because of their virtues. They are wrong in the view they take—they misconstrue; that does not matter. But the fundamental reason why they oppose is because they believe that I am condoning what is wrong. That is a good feeling and right. But it is not right when it goes into hatred and calumny, when people go about telling abominable stories of all kinds which are utterly false, using them as weapons to injure. But, none the less, the beginning lay in a virtue—the desire to guard the Society from harm; and that ought to be recognised even when it has run into excess. If we can do that, then, in the midst of struggle, we shall be learning the true Theosophical spirit, which sees the good first, and only recognises the excess afterwards. And my suggestion is: “Train yourself, in your ordinary thinking, to see first the good of a person or thing, and only afterwards allow yourself to see the weakness or evil.” Then you will get all the good of your critical spirit, and be guarded against much harm. But if you see the bad side first, you are likely not to see the good side at all. These things test our members, and show whether we are fit to go along this great path or not—show whether we are ready to be part of that great Sixth Race which is coming, or whether we are so wedded to our own opinions that outside those we can see nothing good.

The trouble is practically over, but we should remember its lessons—a wider tolerance, a sterner self-criticism, and a more charitable attitude towards our fellows. You cannot be too hard in criticising yourself, nor too tolerant and charitable towards your neighbour. Remember that in every one of us the Self is endeavouring to express something of himself. In our own case we have the right to criticise every obstacle put in the way of His manifestation, to be hard in our judgment of ourselves, pitiless in our condemnation of our every fault and weakness. But we cannot govern the manifestation of the Self in another; hence our criticism is useless and impertinent—does not help, but hinders; for if the other person is wrong, as you think he is, then your harsh judgment makes an added barrier in his way when the Self in him is trying to guide him back to the right, whereas your charity, your tolerant respect, will help him to realise the noblest in him. Hence the lesson of this great shaking should be criticism of ourselves and charity to all around us. Recognition of our own type, clear self-judgment, so that we may walk aright and help others as much as may be; and, above all, so to purify our own characters that we may be channels for the life that flows in the Society, and may not soil it as it passes through ourselves. The Society can never die by attacks from without, nor by desertions from within; it can only die when its members are careless of their own thought, their own character, their own ideas; that, and that alone, can make the Society unworthy of the guidance of its Teachers. It was once said: “So long as three men remain in the Society worthy of our Lord’s blessing it cannot perish.” That was a word spoken by a Master in the days when the Society was weak and struggling, and when the few people that belonged to it feared it would never survive the storm that shook it in the time of the Coulomb attack. Think of that if any other storm should approach us—although we are not likely now to have another for the next twelve years; but when a storm comes, remember that inspiring idea, that as long as three remain in the Society it cannot perish; and add to that the vow registered by the Higher Self: “If others depart, I will be one of the three.”

Lecture IV
The Sacramental Life

I am to speak to you to-night on a subject of deep interest to those who regard the religions of the world from the standpoint of Occultism. In all the great religions we find what are called “sacraments,” to take the Western name; and in all religions the object is the same—the endeavour to spiritualise the ordinary life of man; to make it possible for men and women living in the world, blinded by their bodies, unable to rise above the material limitations—to enable those men and women to come into direct touch with higher worlds and higher beings, and so, from the definite sacramental act, to pass on until the whole life may become a sacrament by the radiation of spiritual life through the material coating.

Now different religions have different numbers of sacraments, although the essence remains the same. In Hinduism the sacraments are very numerous. Ten are recognised as of universal application, but the number will run up to thirty or forty if you take all the ceremonies that are distinctly recognised as having this character among the more orthodox Hindus. The number, after all, is immaterial; it is the fundamental idea which is important. As knowledge of the meaning of the sacraments spreads, especially in the Western world, it will be found that many things that have been put aside as superstitious will come back with a new light and power. Certain ideas which were cast aside at the period of the Reformation were thrown aside rather by reaction than for any defensible reason. The way in which many of the thoughts and dogmas of the Roman Catholic Church were pressed among the people, the widespread ignorance of meanings while forms were carefully observed, not unnaturally brought about a powerful reaction when reason began to challenge the ceremonies. As occult knowledge had practically fallen into the background among the great mass of the Roman Catholic priesthood, there came rejection of that which could not be rationally explained. As we are able to see the justification for very much that then was rejected, however, we realise that many of these things will come back. And if we think, it is not unnatural that these should return. Going back to the early days of religion (I am thinking now of Christianity, but it is the same in all the great religions), we find the Founder and his immediate disciples who shape and mould the religion. As these men were men to whom the spiritual world was familiar, and as their duty was to make bridges between the ordinary mass of men and the great spiritual teachings of religion, it was inevitable that in the forms of worship laid down by them there should be in the background occult truths. Hence we find in the early Church the great institution of the Mysteries; and I shall want, later on, to show the relation between the Mystery, the Sacrament, and the great legend of the Holy Grail.

Let us now consider what a sacrament really is. I do not think we can get a better definition than in the Catechism of the Anglican Church: “An outward and visible sign of an inward and spiritual grace”—something that is outer, tangible, that the senses can appreciate, a material object; then, with that, indissolubly connected, certain facts of the invisible world, so that the outer sign is able to act as a channel for the inner reality. But also, under the heading of “outward and visible sign,” you want something beyond the material object; you want a material gesture and material words. These three things are always present in a sacrament; some material object which is the immediate channel, certain sounds or words which make a change in the subtle material mingled with the denser material of that object, and a gesture called often the “sign of power,” as the words are called “words of power.” Now the gesture must be one through which magnetism can be thrown on to the object which is affected by the words.

Let us see how those facts are bound together in the sacrament itself, and what is their connexion with the constitution of man and of the worlds in which he lives. The worlds with which the man is connected, for our present purpose, we can take as the physical, astral, mental—the three worlds in which turns the wheel of births and death. He is in those three—either in all of them together, as when in the physical world; in two of them, as when in the astral world; in one only when in the heavenly world. For remember that only in the physical world are the three bodies available that connect him with all of the three at the same time. In these three worlds, then, man is continually living. He is related to them by his physical body, astral body, and mental body, so that you have a living intelligence, a spiritual being, who, by means of the matter that he has appropriated in these three worlds, is able to come into contact with each of them. But now arises the question: Given a spiritual intelligence clothed in this triple veil of matter; given the fact that that spiritual intelligence, by the veil of matter, is in contact with three worlds—how shall he be able to come gradually into conscious connexion with each, so that the stream of spiritual life, coming down from the spiritual world, may at once purify the matter of his bodies, illuminate his consciousness in these three stages, and so begin the great work of spiritualising the whole man? That is the problem that religion has had to solve. So far as ordinary Protestantism is concerned, the body has been cast aside as a very temporary possession, only occupied by the spiritual intelligence during one brief life, and hardly worth troubling about. Hence the body has become very much neglected from the ordinary standpoint of Protestantism, and the reaction against that has taken the form of materialism, so that you find people rejecting the view of the worthlessness of the body, and falling into a materialism in which the body is made the most important thing. Instead of that, in the earlier days of the great faiths, the body was regarded as a valuable possession, a thing to be made holy, to be sanctified, in order that it might be a fitting instrument of the spiritual intelligence therein embodied.

And so, in all these earlier days of religions, continual relationships were being made, first between the spiritual world and the lower worlds, and then between the embodied intelligence and the bodies that that intelligence is wearing. Hence the sacraments which should touch both body and consciousness, which should sanctify the material vehicles while illuminating the spiritual intelligence, which should make the whole man really spiritual in order that the object of incarnation might be accomplished—that matter in all the worlds should be rendered the obedient servant of Spirit. That was the object of the sacrament. Hence the necessity for the material object in order that it may come into touch with the dense body. Hence the need of the signs in order that, by the vibrations set up, sent on to subtler planes, the subtler bodies might be set vibrating, and be able to receive the downfall of spiritual life. Hence also the need for the gesture, so that the magnetic force sent out in the consecration might link together the denser and the subtler matter by this bond of magnetism, and in that way might make the whole of the material object a vehicle for the higher life while preparing the bodies for the reception of that downflow.

Now let us, in order to work out these principles, take the sacrament of Baptism. In this you know that you have the whole of these three conditions of a sacrament present—water, the material object; the words of power; the consecration of the water. You have the words of consecration, praying God to sanctify this water to the mystical washing away of sin; and then you have the sign of power—the cross made over the water—in order that the magnetism from the fingers of the priest may magnetise it, and be the link between the physical water and the astral matter which interpenetrates it.

I pause for a moment on the phrase “words of power.” The whole understanding and use of such words depends on the fact that every sound causes certain definite vibrations. Wherever there is a sound there is a correlated vibration. Now a mantra, or word of power, is a certain definite succession of sounds made by an Occultist in order to bring about certain definite results. That is as much a scientific fact as a fact that none of you would challenge—that you can by producing a musical note set up vibrations in a glass or rod or string which is sympathetic. You remember the experiments of Tyndall. He would show how by a certain sound you could shiver a piece of glass. What really happens? The glass begins to vibrate. As the vibrations are made by the note, it repeats them; if it is more than the glass can respond to, the particles are torn asunder and the glass is broken. Exactly a similar line of thought conducts you to the use and meaning of the mantra. The Occultist tries certain sounds. He finds out what are the sounds that bring about the vibrations that he desires. Having discovered that experimentally, he puts those sounds into a definite order and then gives a sentence which will reproduce that sequence of sounds whenever the sentence is uttered. This sequence of sounds causes vibrations, which in their turn set up vibrations in the subtle bodies. The more the mantra is repeated, the more powerful the result. Hence the use of repetition that you find so much in Church formulÆ. Hence the use of the rosary, so that you may not have the jar of counting in producing the vibrations that you require. Now it is obvious that a mantra cannot be translated without losing part of its power. It may still have a power from the thought which is in it, but the sequence of sounds is affected. Hence the special value of the mantra apart from the thought which the words embody. Hence the wisdom of the Greek and Roman Catholic Churches in using their words of power as given by the Occultists who devised them. Unfortunately, in the Reformation, occult knowledge being at a discount, it was thought you could translate the words of power without losing the effect. You keep the effect caused by the thought; you lose a very large part of the mechanical effect caused by the sounds. What is lost of ordinary mechanical effect has to be brought about by devotion or will-power; whereas if you produce the vibrations mechanically, you then have all your devotion and will-power left undiminished to bring about the higher results. There is the value of the scientific ways of dealing with the bodies. It is not a question of consciousness now, but of the bodies, and only secondarily of the effect on the consciousness of the vibrations of the bodies; yet that also cannot be left out. Just as a change in consciousness brings about a certain vibration, so does a vibration bring about a corresponding change in consciousness. Hence to set up right vibrations helps the consciousness to remain in a certain condition, and we naturally find that in the Greek and Roman Catholic Churches the effects produced by the words of the sacrament are greater than these produced in Churches where the words of power are translated. One advantage that comes out of that is that, in the first case, where the priest is using the words that themselves make the vibrations, the man’s character, devotion, and knowledge are not as important as they are in the case where the mechanical effect is lost, and the priest must supply by his own devotion and will-power that which could be more readily produced by the mantra. It is out of that that has come the statement that the unworthiness of the priest does not destroy the worth of the sacrament. Certainly it is not as potent where the priest is unworthy, but where the mechanism is perfect, the worker not being perfect is less important.

Now if a clairvoyant watches what is done when a sacrament is taking place, he sees that on the repetition of the words of consecration and the making of the sign of power a visible change occurs in the consecrated object. It is most marked if we turn to the Mass, or Holy Communion. You have there on the altar the sacred elements—the bread and the wine. According to the Roman Catholic doctrine, at the words of power, what is called “transubstantiation” takes place. That teaching has been very much misunderstood by the ordinary Protestant. He does not realise that in every visible object there is an invisible and formative idea; that that idea, working along ordinary lines, produces one of the ordinary objects that you see around you; but that if the idea be changed by the use of a word of power, a mantra, that that change of the idea produces a change of astral matter, and in the etheric and even dense physical matter also a change of vibration is set up. And although it is true that in the densest matter the vibration is not powerful enough to alter the arrangement of the particles, it is true that in all the most important part of that object a change has occurred, and it is that change which is indicated by the word “transubstantiation.” No instructed Roman Catholic ever was foolish enough to think anything save that which I am now putting to you. Now if that idea seems strange, let me remind you of a simple fact which will throw light on the whole thing. Students of organic chemistry are familiar with isometric compounds. Those compounds are made up of exactly the same number of the same chemical elements. Nevertheless, the chemist will tell you that according to the inner arrangement of those elements will be the qualities of the thing. You may have in some of the higher carbon compounds (even so low down as where you have entering into the base only four carbon atoms) an arrangement or rearrangement of those elements such as to give you entirely different qualities—in one case a poison, in the other harmless. That change of arrangement makes all the difference. Is it so strange, then, that in changing the inner arrangement the qualities change? In the invisible worlds these things can be seen, so that that piece of opaque bread, when the words are spoken, utterly changes in appearance, becoming luminous and shining out in every direction. Now the moment one sees that, one begins to realise what a sacrament means from the material standpoint. You are dealing with an object that can be changed in its qualities. You are reconstituting the subtle portions of that by the forces you are bringing to bear on it. With what object? In order that, from the planes above the mental, spiritual power pouring down may find a vehicle which is able to assimilate it and carry it down to the densest plane of matter, and by that vehicle may be passed on to those who are partakers of the sacrament. And not only do you see that change appearing in the elements, but you see also that that change draws to the altar numbers of those whom the Hindus call Devas, and the Christians call Angels, who lend their powers to the helping of the worshippers, and change the atmosphere of the whole place to which they throng.

Now the moment anyone sees this, he realises that much has to come back to some of the religious sects of the West in order to make them what they ought to be. And the result of losing sight of all this inner part of the Christian ceremonies, rites, and formulÆ has been the tendency to grow more and more materialistic, until you find that the ordinary Protestant knows of nothing as between himself and God, nothing of the work of all that mighty hierarchy of spiritual intelligences who form the ladder between earth and heaven. Hence the gradual disappearance from the modern mind of the teaching of the ministry of Angels. How much of it has slipped out of knowledge, and how much all life has lost of beauty by the passing away of these links between the higher and lower worlds. When a person takes the sacrament, you have there the actual physical touch all along the material lines, a real purification of the body as well as illumination of the intelligence. But you may say: “Does it all turn on this outward ceremony—these words and signs?” No. There is, in addition to that, in the consciousness of the worshipper, a tremendous potency which assimilates that which pours down from the higher worlds. And although it be true that that potency is very much more readily assimilated when all the material coverings have been tuned and made ready to receive it, none the less is it also true that even where that part of the sacrament is wanting it is a veritable means of grace to those who realise the inner meaning, although not understanding the importance of the outer form. I think that there is little doubt that, as Occultism spreads, this will all come back to the Churches; for it is part of the Theosophical mission to restore that which has been lost, to bring to knowledge again that which has been forgotten.

And there are also other things in relation to this which will come into modern life again as the truth of the sacrament is recognised. So many discussions there have been about the Apostolic Succession, the passing of power from one to another by a sacrament, not recognised as a sacrament in some part of the Anglican Church, but recognised by the Roman Catholic Church as the Sacrament of Holy Orders. There, again, a physical passing of magnetism; there, again, a definite succession, a hierarchy which is an image of the hierarchy in higher worlds. For always religions have reflexions of the realities of the higher worlds, and these reflexions have their power and their use. Now, in the ordinary Protestant community, and even in the great Anglican Church itself, only two sacraments are normally recognised—the sacrament of the altar and that of the font. Outside those, as you know, the Greek and Roman Catholic Churches have others in addition to that of Holy Orders above mentioned—all of them, from the standpoint of the sacramental life, important. They have the Sacrament of Confirmation; but that ought surely to be recognised as a sacrament everywhere, for you have there the essential parts of the sacrament and the conveying of a spiritual power. So also they have the Sacrament of Penance, in which the spiritual power is again conveyed which enables the penitent by effort and repentance to regain spiritual strength when it has been injured by sin. So you have also the Sacrament of Matrimony, and the loss of the sacramental side of marriage has led very largely to its degradation in Protestant countries. So also the Sacrament of Extreme Unction, which is, curiously enough, coming back among Protestants. Look at the accounts of the Guilds of Healing established in the Church—no less than three in the Anglican community. They have restored the sacramental use of oil, founding themselves upon a passage in the New Testament: “Is any sick, let him call the elders of the church, and let them pray over him, anointing him with oil in the name of the Lord”—a sacramental act. You have the oil as the vehicle of the magnetism, the name of the Lord as the word of power, and in putting on the oil ever the sign of the Cross is used. Now it is a very significant thing that that has been brought back definitely by members of the Anglican Church, priests and laity, to-day; and one wonders very much why in the Roman Catholic community, with the occult knowledge of its leaders, it has that use of sacramental oil only at the death-moment, when its great value cannot be utilised. That is one of the points I cannot quite make out in studying the ritual of the Roman Catholic Church.[4]

Now, supposing that you recognise that fact of a sacrament, how would it affect your ordinary daily life? It would gradually discipline your mind to realise that all life is sacramental, rightly understood; that every outer action should be connected with a spiritual truth; and in this way all your actions would cease to be hindrances, and would tend to become helpers. Among the Hindus this is largely recognised, for all the great actions of the daily life with them are sacramental. Every true Hindu, on waking, prays that as his eyes open to the light of the day, so his Spirit may open to the light of the inner Self. In his daily bath, as he pours the water over his body, his prayer is, that as the water washes the body, so may the mind be cleansed and the heart purified. All the bodily actions are consecrated as the reflexions of the spiritual life, and the effect of that is to make a disciplined, self-controlled, balanced character. The daily training gradually makes the whole life orderly; and it is not without significance that in the religions where the sacramental life is realised, there it is that you find the type of character that all speak of as the Saint—a man who is ever alive to the realities of the higher world; the man who lives in the Spirit, although also living in the body.

Now I said that this idea was connected with the Mysteries and with the Grail. Let me try and show you how; and in this I am using the thought of the great French writer, SchurÉ, who, writing on the mystical idea in the music of Wagner, pointed out the close resemblances and differences between the sacrifice of the Mass and the legend of the Grail. Now it is a historical fact, apparently, that with the disappearance of the Mysteries from Europe and the Christian Church, this legend began slowly to work its way among the European nations. There were the Mysteries of Jesus, and those played in the Christian Church exactly the same part that is played by the Yoga training, say, in Hinduism or Buddhism. There was the life of the ordinary sacraments for the ordinary believer. Those were the means whereby the true believer came into touch with the higher worlds. But when a man had learned all he could in the outer circle of the Church, when he had used the sacramental means of grace so that he was able to say that his life was pure, that he had been “for a long time conscious of no transgression,” then he was allowed to present himself as candidate for the Mysteries of Jesus. Within those Mysteries the realities replaced the outer mechanism of the sacrament. There, no longer by gift from without, as in the sacrament, but by effort and struggle the vision of the spiritual life was attained. And when those Mysteries passed away, not because there were not teachers, but because there were no pupils ready to be taught, then it was that this story of the Grail was given as an announcement, however veiled, that the ancient Path still remained open to the worthy aspirant. For what is the inner meaning of the Grail, and how do the main points of it connect with the Christian sacrament? Different, yet similar. In the one it is the outer form of bread and wine, symbolising the body and blood of Christ; in the other, the sacred cup, in which it was said that once a year the blood of Christ shone out with brilliant and purifying light. In both an outer symbol. But in the sacrament that outer symbol is given to the believer, and, without effort of his own, the greater Self outside him gives to the weaker Self within. But in the Grail it is by effort and struggle, by temptation and resistance, that the vision becomes possible. He has entered on the Path where outer aid is withdrawn, and where the inner power must replace the outer assistance. In the Church sacrament, faith is the means whereby the truth must be attained. In the inner, vision and knowledge take the place of faith, for the successful knight sees the vision of the Grail—the Cup, with all its glory, is revealed before him. And so in the outer a dogma is taught, in the inner there is knowledge. But what is a dogma? Knowledge imposed by authority. In the Grail it is an inner revelation, a true initiation into the Mysteries; and it is that inner revelation which takes the place of dogma, a revelation which comes by inner illumination instead of being taught by the outer authority of a Church. And so you find that in that vision the dove appears—symbol of inspiration. The inspiration of the inner revelation is ever there, and that inner revelation belongs to the body of the Initiates, the elect out of all humanity. They hand it on to the world outside, that which is knowledge to them becoming dogma to the outer world. And so you can see that in the Grail legend the teaching of the Mysteries was symbolically conveyed, and those who were able to pierce through the meaning of the legend had their feet placed upon the Path where the symbols became reality; the principle running through was identical. And so the lesson was taught that for those who cannot yet themselves build a bridge to the higher world, the outer sacrament is given as the bridge to unite the two; but when the man is able to make his own bridge, the sacrament for him is no longer necessary. He can reach the worlds above without the assistance of the bridge, and then he becomes the Knight of the Grail. That is still true. The Churches must ever give the sacraments, because the masses of their believers are not yet evolved enough to be able to build their own bridge. For those who have reached the point in spiritual manhood where the other worlds are known and are ever present in consciousness, for them the value of the sacrament is over, and the reality of the inner life no longer needs the grace that is conveyed by the sacrament.

Now if you realise the facts I have been putting to you, if you understand what the sacrament means and what its value is, you will never speak lightly, contemptuously of it, remembering that those who need it receive in it a real power, and that those who have gone beyond that necessity are those who are ever the tenderest to the souls that still require it, and are careful that with their wisdom they do not bewilder the ignorant, that they do not lessen the means of grace for those who are unable to reach knowledge for themselves. And inasmuch as it is the duty of the members of the Theosophical Society to know these facts of the different worlds, and to use them for the helping of others, they have the duty of trying to bring back the realisation of all the immense value which may be found in these rites which are little understood by the more skeptical communities to-day. That your mission and your privilege. Whether in your own religious communities you still find help or not in these outer veils of spiritual things, that is a comparatively small matter. As long as they help you, use them to the utmost; and when you no longer need them, then treat them with the reverence which is due to them, and explain them to those who do not understand them. Not very, very long will pass before all and much more than I am saying to you will become common knowledge in the Churches. Yours the privilege of knowing a little sooner than the outside world; not because you are specially favoured, but in order that you may carry knowledge to the outside world. For every one of you ought to lead the sacramental life, and that means that you shall be a channel by which the spiritual forces shall pour down and spread through you to those who surround you, vivifying and spiritualising the world. That your privilege, from the knowledge that has come to you; that your duty, for knowledge brings responsibility. And just in proportion as you understand the occult truths out of which the esoteric religions have sprung, so will you try to make those religions deeper, more vital, more spiritualising to all that belong to them, so that you may truly act as servants of religion, for such servants every lover of the Divine Wisdom should be.

Lecture V
Address on White Lotus Day 1909

All over the world to-day the sun in rising has seen in country after country men and women gathering together to bear in memory those who have passed onward through the gate of death, but who, in passing through the gate, have remained even more living than they were when they carried the burden of the flesh; men and women who have left their names behind them as workers for the Ancient Wisdom in its modern dress, and whose memories remain dear and precious because of the work they did, because of the message they spread.

We have listened this evening to verses from the Bhagavad-Gita, to lines from The Light of Asia. In India, on the early morning of to-day, words were read from that same sacred Scripture of the eastern land, spoken there in its ancient tongue, the Sanskrit. In town after town, village after village, the memory of those same lives is kept in mind. There also The Light of Asia has been read, and the sacred memory of the Buddha has been recalled. And all over India, from the Northern Himalayas down to the South, thousands of the poor have been fed by the branches of our Society in memory of those who lived, of those who passed away, some of whom have come back to earth again. And as the sun came onwards along its western path, it lighted up other countries also, which kept the same memory, used the same books, spoke the same names, and so across Italy, and Russia, and Germany, and then in France, and now here, and a few hours hence across the Atlantic, in America, the same memories will be recalled, the same books will be read, the same thoughts will be spoken and will spread from heart to heart. For all round the globe this day is kept sacred in memory of those who died, as men say, amongst us, but who live to carry on the mighty work that here they took up for the brief day of mortal life. And we think of our dead, our truly living, not with sorrow, not with mourning, but with glad hearts and thankful lips, for we know that death is nothing but a passing from one world to another, a dropping of one body for the more effective wearing of a subtler, finer, more powerful one than that which, outworn, is cast away. For we have learned, and some of us know practically, that that is true which is written in that same Eastern Scripture of which we heard some verses to-day, that the Dweller in the body throws aside the outworn body as a man throws aside garments outworn; and as the man takes new garments for his wearing, so does the Dweller in the body take new bodies for his wearing, for new days of a never-ending, an immortal life.

And we think of those who have gone onward to-day—not only of our greatest, but of all who have worked and striven for the same great cause. And perhaps it is fitting that first in that great roll we should send message of love to the one who has left us last, who laboured so long and so faithfully in France—Dr. Pascal—the General Secretary there, who only a few weeks since passed to the rest so well deserved. A weary time had he in the passing; years of weakness, of suffering, of ever-decreasing strength. And many ask, when they see so long an illness and so much of pain, when they see a life that was bright and helpful and full of service set to this world in so long a twilight of sadness and suffering, sometimes they ask: “Why should one who served so well have so long and so sad a passing to the other side?” But people do not always understand that, when a man has worked well and done good service, ere he goes to his rest for a little time on the other side, it is well for him to pay the debts incurred, which otherwise would hamper the new life when it comes back to earth; and that there can be no better karma—sad as it may seem to the outward sight—than when these ties of the past are fully paid before the day of passing comes, so that the new birth is unshadowed by the shadows of the past, and debt is paid which otherwise would be demanded when the new life is born. So that in a life like that, which has ended sadly, as men say, with body failing and brain failing, looking at that with seeing eyes we see the preparing for a better birth, a greater service, and we know that it is well that the debt was paid, and that the new life shall come unencumbered with the sad heritage of the past. And so to our friend to-night we send messages of love and gladness that the debt is paid, thankfulness that he has passed over, so that he may come back again to work under conditions fairer, nobler, more full of promise than those in which he worked so bravely and so nobly through the life that now has closed.

And as we look back we see the faces of many friends, all of whom we commemorate—some of our own country, some of other lands, some near at hand, and some far off, who have passed to the other side in order that they may return. For you remember that it is written: “Certain is death to the born, and certain is birth to the dead.” And those who have passed onward are some of them turning their faces earthward once again, because the times demand fresh workers, and much is to be done in the years that are dawning upon us.

And one man stands out strongly in the minds of all, our President, the President-Founder, who passed away only two brief years since, and who is residing in his Master’s home, but not altogether resting as men call rest, inasmuch as he is ever eagerly working for the Movement he loved and loves, and longing for the day when he shall be permitted to take again a body to do once more the work to which for many lives he has been devoted.

And there rises the greatest name of all, H. P. Blavatsky, the name of her who threw down the body she was wearing on this 8th of May, which, for her dear sake, was chosen as the day of commemoration of all our workers who have passed onward—her name dearest and nearest to our hearts, the Messenger of the Lodge, she who was chosen to bring back to a world in darkness the light which she carried so bravely and unflinchingly through a life of suffering and toil. And strange is her recompense, that she, round whom so many quarrels arose, she who was a sign of storm and dispute through the warrior life that she led, she who saw the Society well-nigh crumble round her in those days of the Coulomb plot, when all over the world it seemed that Theosophy was doomed to popular contempt, and deserted by most who at one time had welcomed it; she who, wherever she went, met storm and trouble, who perhaps was more loved and more hated than anyone of our own time, she has now the recompense that hers is the one name which is everywhere beloved through the great Society of which she and her colleague were the founders, and also among those who have gone out of it through the past years, those who left it in the Judge secession, those who have gone out since; hers is the one name that unifies, to whom all look back as teacher and as friend. And a great and a beautiful lesson grows out of that, that although life separates, death unifies; and those who in life went away, as it seemed, from the movement that she made, look back to her as founder, and round her name, among the prominent people inside and outside the Society, there runs to-day absolute unanimity, and a peace without one ripple of dissent.

And to me that seems a very beautiful thing, that the name that was the name of strife and of combat has become the one name which is recognised as the foundation of the Movement everywhere, no matter by what passing changes that Movement may have been affected. And it carries with it a valuable lesson. These changes that we think so much of do not matter; all the storms and troubles are of no account; on this great advancing tide of truth and light, it matters not what apparent storms may come, what rocks may be in the way, what angry waves may rise and break, what feelings may be expressed—the whole of it vanishes in the face of the great unifier, Death; and those who were rent asunder because they thought more of personalities than of principles, they catch sight again of the principle when death has smoothed away the difficulties of the persons over whom they quarrelled. And so, looking back to her to-day, we can see in her life and death a presage of the future. None of the storms matter, and none of the secessions and divisions count in the great work. They are all mere trivial incidents of passing days, and the one great Life rolls on, only the richer for the divergence, only the fuller for the differences which it catches up and blends into one.

And on this day, looking backward to those who have gone through death’s portal, shall we not also look forward to those who are coming back through birth’s portal to work in the Movement in the future as they worked in the Movement in the past? How far has it struck you, during the days of storm and stress through which you have been passing, that to those who believe in Reincarnation and Karma there is no possibility of real separation, no possibility of lasting discord? For those who went far away apparently from the Movement, or who left it by the gateway of death, see on the other side the fundamental unity, even though on this side, for a while, they may have been blinded by the superficial differences, and join together in the work from which, on this side perhaps, for the moment, they had let themselves slip away for some trivial discord, some passing divergence of opinion. Take that great man amongst us round whom raged the last great struggle, the one before the struggle which is now nearing its close—W. Q. Judge—one of the greatest and noblest workers in our Movement, even though in the last days of his life he made the great rent in the Theosophical Society which cost us for the time pretty well the whole Society in America. He again, winning clearer vision on the other side after something of difficulty and something of struggle (for the man was strong, and was not easy to move or change even when the physical body had been cast away), he after a while worked his way through the mistake that had been made, and has again thrown his life force, his enormous energy into the Movement of which the outer partial manifestation here is the Theosophical Society, and into that Theosophical Society also. For remember that the Theosophical Society is only the partial manifestation of that great stream of Life which is flowing in the other worlds, and of which some appears here. This great Theosophical stream is like one of those rivers which flows underground, and then bubbles up above the ground so that all can see. And the river of the Ancient Wisdom, with its source in the Great Lodge of the Masters, is out of sight for the greater part of its course, in worlds greater and higher than this, and then comes up above the earthly surface and shows itself partially in what we call the Theosophical Society; and into that River of Ages lives which have passed onward throw their energy from the other worlds, so that they are working in the same Movement and strengthening the same current, and are not apart from us, but with us all the time.

And then there are some others to whose return amongst us we have the right to look forward. One whom I may remind you of, who has not passed through death’s gateway, although out of sight for so long, is that faithful chela of H. P. Blavatsky—Damodar—who left India after the great Coulomb struggle, went up into the Himalayan region, and found his way to his Master’s home near far-off Shigatze. He has been living and working there ever since, and is now a man of middle age, but his return ere very long we may without fear look forward to. He will come back to us with all the gained knowledge that he has won during these many years’ training in the presence of the Teachers Themselves; he has already shown himself in India, not physically, but preparing to come back when the Movement is ready for his work, and the getting ready of it is the work which we have to do in the few years in front. For ere many years have gone we may look for his coming as a leader and teacher amongst us.

And of those who passed through death’s gateway some have already come back, H. P. Blavatsky amongst them; so that in the years that come many of you will see that strong life again manifested amongst us to take share in the working of the Society, for which he is working now as ever before. Remember how a Master said of him: “The brother whom you know as H. P. Blavatsky, but we—otherwise.” One who was spoken of in such words by the Master M. does not leave the work to which he has put his hand because the worn-out body was thrown aside for the time—the brother whom we know as H. P. Blavatsky, but They otherwise, the great and strong disciple will again come amongst us to work more powerfully than in the woman’s body that last time he wore. And others, too, who worked with him in the earlier days—Subba Rao, whose name many yet know; he is now a lad of nearly fifteen, in the Indian body once more, born in fact in the same family (using the word “family” in the wider Indian sense), a lad of fifteen, very soon to be ready again to take up his work.

And there are others, less well known, who have been reborn, and who are preparing to take part in the great forward movement which is so soon to begin. But before that work could begin it was necessary to have the shaking through which we have been passing during the last three years. I have told you often that from time to time these shakings recur, and are necessary before a great time of onward progress. Few of you probably will remember the progress that was made after the Coulomb trouble, but many of you will remember the spring forward which the Society took after the American secession. History repeats itself in small cycles as well as in large ones, and before the great forward movement could take place it was necessary that the shaking should occur once more, to shake out for the moment those who were not ready to go forward.

What is the great difficulty before the world? When those who know more and are able to teach are to come forward and live among the men and women of the time, and bring to them the treasures they have harvested of the Wisdom of the ancient days, the one thing that stands in the way of their reception is the spirit which is not able to recognise greatness when it sees it, but meets it with suspicion, doubt, slander, calumny; which ever supplies evil motives where there is no understanding of the reasons for action, and so paralyses those who know, and builds up barriers which even they cannot overstep. You saw it in the life of H. P. Blavatsky. Look back to that life of hers; see how her efforts, her endeavours to teach and spread the Wisdom, the message with which she was charged, were everywhere frustrated. And that has been so now for very many centuries. When the greatest of all Teachers came, that mighty Teacher whom in the East we call the Bodhisattva, whom in the West we call the Christ, when He came—mightiest of spiritual Teachers, the very spirit of Wisdom and love incarnate—He could not live three years in this world ere He became so insupportable to the people of His day that they slew Him, while His love for the Father was denounced as blasphemy, His teaching denounced as coming from the devil. And that same spirit has been seen ever since. The great teachers have ever been met with the same spirit, and we have to change it. The chief mission of the Society at the moment is to prepare the way of the Lord, and the only preparation that can be made is to substitute reverence for greatness instead of suspicion and hatred. And because that is the immediate work which lies before us, it was necessary to shake out of the Society those whose spirit was rather suspicion of greatness than acceptance of it when seen. For the immediate work is the preparing of the world for the coming of greater Ones, in order that the new impulse may be given when the new sub-race and Root Race are to be born.

That is the immediate work, the preparation for the coming of some of those whom I have been mentioning—Damodar, Subba Rao, H. P. Blavatsky—not, remember, with flourish of trumpets, or with anyone declaring “this is so-and-so” and “this is someone else,” with the exception, perhaps, of the first named (Damodar), who went as a boy to his Master, and is now middle-aged, but will be recognised by old Indian friends. But others will be coming in new bodies, unknown, with no proof of who they are. They will have to make their way, they will have to prove their apostolate, and probably their views of things will be very different from the views of many of those in the Theosophical Society. Inevitably so; for people whose eyes are opened to more than one world cannot see things, as those see them whose eyes are blind save to one; those who see the wider horizon will have different thoughts from those who are cabined in by the life and conventions of their day. And that is why the great Ones are always misunderstood, for They must be other than those to whom They come, else how could They teach? And that is where your General Secretary spoke very truly in saying that the mind often misleads, and the things we “think” cover over the things we “know.” Now the things you know, you know by the light of the Spirit which is within you; by that intuition which is the voice of the pure, not the impure reason, speaking above the mind and through the mind, but very often in contradiction to the mind. And in order to hear that voice of intuition, so far as I know, there is only one way, that when once you see the Light shine out through any human being, you hold to that human being, no matter what the mind may say. That is what spells success, and that was pre-eminently the case with H. P. Blavatsky, for anyone more confusing to the ordinary mind you could not possibly come across—awkward, athwart one’s conventions in every way; in speech, manner, actions, the very reverse of all that you would expect. When I first met her and saw in her the power of the Master, from that day to this I have never challenged and never doubted her. And very, very largely because of that have come the knowledge and power that I have won not by reasoning and arguing—“Was she right or wrong?” “Would it not have been better if she had been different from what she was?”—but having once seen in her the Light of Truth, refusing to see anything else except the Messenger of the Master.

And that is what you need in the coming days, that is what some of you have been winning through the storms of the last three years—to realise that when once you have known a teacher to be a teacher you shall cling to that knowledge, no matter what clouds for a time surround, no matter what storms for a time may hide; for that means intuition, which is above the concrete mind; it means the testimony of the God within you to the God without you, and that cannot lie. And we have to spread that through the whole Society in order to make the way possible for those who will be coming amongst us during the next few years, and the greater Ones who will come later if we can welcome the Messengers, but not otherwise. Our years of mortal life are not those by which time is reckoned in the great cycles of the occult world. It is true that we say: “Probably between thirty and forty years hence a great Teacher will come back, the greatest Teacher, the Teacher of Gods and men.” But a date like that, which is counted by the revolutions of the world, is always a doubtful thing from the occult standpoint; for time there is measured by consciousness, and not by the turning of the sun. Efforts may shorten or failure may retard the date, and hence it is always rather vaguely put; and if, when these less great ones came we were not able to receive them, if we are repelled by the superficial appearance and have not the intuition to recognise the Messengers, that will inevitably delay the coming of the greater Ones.

At different times different virtues are wanted. To know the virtue of the time and to develop it, that is wisdom. At one time courage is the great thing wanted; at another time recognition of spiritual greatness, and the power to hold to it, and that is the virtue wanted now. Not in order that you and I as individuals may take part in this great work, but in order that the world may be prepared, that the way of the Lord may be made straight, so that He may come. For He cannot come to be a curse to the world instead of a blessing, as He would be if the world were wholly unprepared. And so greater and greater Ones will be coming in order that the greatest of all may be welcomed when He appears amongst us.

Some of you think, but you think mistakenly, that you would recognise, say, a Master, or even a Christ, if He appeared. Are you so sure? They never have been recognised by the people of their time save by a small minority, and why should we be different? The Christ was not recognised when He came last; His Messengers have not been recognised since, save by a minority. They are so different from the people of their time that there is much to get over before you can recognise them. And it is a good practice sometimes to throw yourself back to those days in Judea when the Son of Man trod the earth. Realise what He would have seemed to you then, not what he seems to you now through the vista of centuries of the adoration of millions of men. What would he have seemed as the vagabond travelling about on foot, with a number of half-educated people round Him, disturbing the peace of society, antagonistic to the respectabilities of His day, looked down upon by the aristocracy of the time? See Him as they saw Him, and ask yourself: “Should I have recognised the Christ?” And that is where the test has been, right through these last three years, and where it will be as the people I have been speaking of gradually come amongst us again. If you would recognise them when they come, try to cultivate the power which answers to greatness without, by cultivating greatness within, remembering that spiritual recognition is the recognition of all those who are kindred to yourself. If you have the virtue in you of the spiritual man you will know spiritual men when you meet them; but if you cannot answer to Him, then He will pass you by unknown, and probably disliked.

Now our work is clear before us: to try to change the public opinion of the world into the attitude which is sometimes called disparagingly hero-worship, which is essentially the thing we need at the present time—the power to know the hero when we see him. “No man is a hero,” it is said, “to his valet.” And people think that that means that he is small when seen close by. Not so; but that the small soul which is typified by the word “valet” cannot appreciate the greatness of the hero near whom he stands. The servant soul does not recognise the greatness of the hero, and therefore the hero is no hero to him. Only the heroic recognises the hero; and if you can develop that in yourself which is like a Master, then, and then alone, will you know a Master when He comes. And the best way to cultivate it is for a time to let go that spirit of criticism which makes people so superior to those around them. Cultivate the faculty of admiration rather than that of criticism. Try, when you meet a person or when you read a book, to see the good things in the book or person, and not the faults. And the faults in the people around you, these are no business of yours; and if you would once understand that and live it, your path would be so much easier. So many of you are so anxious to get other people out of their faults that you really have no time to look after your own steps and put them in the right way. The faults of the other people will work out through karma, and they are not your business—a hard but true lesson. Of course, if you are a master or a teacher, and have others in your charge, their faults are then yours to correct; but you are not, generally speaking, masters or guardians, and you have no responsibility to criticise or put others right. Take out of your friends the value of the good and let the faults go. You need not say they are virtues, you need not pretend that you think wrong right; but you can say: “That part of the man is not my business; let me help the God in him to manifest, and let the other side in him wear out in its own way.” If you can do that you will be more useful now than in any other spirit, and it is that lesson I would ask you to take with you. Think of H. P. Blavatsky and of those who have passed away in the spirit that they helped us, and not in the spirit that would blind our eyes to their value, and then carry that spirit on to the people around you, and in every one round you try to see the God, and let the rest go. Admire the admirable, and leave aside the regrettable; for in doing it you will help them more to conquer their faults than by criticism.

Seeing the God in them, and loving and trusting, that will help them to grow out of the limitations, of the blunders and errors that are hindering the divine manifestation. And remember that is what is wanted now, not for yourselves only but for every one around you, so that when the Teachers come They may be able to remain in the world amongst us. They dare not come yet, because even in the Theosophical Society They would not be welcomed. A Master who came amongst you now would not for the most part be very much liked by you; His ways, His views, His thoughts would be so different, He would raise suspicion and dislike. We saw it in the earlier days when They came out more, and were met by judgment and criticism, until one of Them said, in the fashion in which They look at ignorant criticism; “The standard of the Adept is not kept at Simla, it is kept at Shamballah and I try to accommodate myself to that.” There is a great lesson in that for all of us. The standard of those who are passing onward into the higher life is not the standard of the judgment of the people around them, but the standard that the Masters hold up before them, to which they are ever trying to conform. Think of that in your attitude to the people around you; remember that on you, and on people like you everywhere, depends the success or the failure of the next great manifestation of the divine life on the earth; that this Theosophical Society, spread everywhere over the world, is literally the John the Baptist to prepare the way for the coming of the Christ; to fill that part is your work and duty—and need I say, your privilege, your highest honour?

To leave the Society now, in the days which are just dawning, surely it is bad karma enough, and you should only feel the tenderest thoughts of pity towards any who go out from us in the days when to belong to the movement is the greatest crown that can be given for any nobility of past life that any one of us may have had. No words of harshness or of condemnation, nothing that will make it harder for them to return, but everywhere gentlest and most tolerant speech—this is our duty to our immediate brethren; and to the world what I have told you.

And so from this White Lotus Day look forward more than backward, rather to the work that is coming than to the difficulties that are now well-nigh over. Remember, for your strengthening, that the only great shaking has been here and in America, nowhere else. You can count on your fingers practically in other countries those who have been shaken out. You have had the struggle and have come out well. It is practically over now. There may be some slight effort made now to make things difficult, but what does it matter, with such hopes before us, with such strength behind us, with such knowledge within us? Why should we allow ourselves to be ruffled by anything that can take place in this outer world of men? We have been through many such struggles in past lives, shall have to go through many greater ones in lives to come; why make too much of present-day trouble? Those whose lives are in eternity need not be troubled with even what seem to be great difficulties to the men and women of the world. And so to you I would say: Gather together on the Day of Memory, but turn it now more into day of looking forward. Let the past go; it has done its work, it is over. Turn your eyes to the work that is opening before us, more splendid than any work of the past. And remember it is not the Messengers who may stand in front who are the strength of the Society, but that the life comes from the Masters and the strength from the Lodge. Knowing that, you need not mind even if those of us who are well known in the world make mistakes, are attacked, or evil spoken of. Never yet a Messenger of the Lodge that went through life without being evil spoken of, and you need not grudge us the sign of our apostolate; for such has ever been the sign of the Messengers through all ages. Rather rejoice with us that the stress for the time is over, and the days of going forward are upon us; do not let the remnant of the trouble shake any one of you, but know that the Masters are with us, and where they are no failure can come.

Lecture VI
The Nature of the Christ

Delivered to the Christo-Theosophical Society, at the invitation of Sir Richard and Lady Stapley, Tuesday, May 25, 1909.

It is with pleasure that I find myself amongst you, as I have often found myself before. I think my membership in the Theosophical Society is of about the same length as the life of your Society. We both began our careers, so to speak, about the same time, in the same year.

The subject that I have taken is in many ways a difficult one, and one that may very naturally arouse differences of feeling. It is, however, one which is being discussed very much in the Christian Church at the present time, and it is for that reason that it seemed to me that it might be useful if we could exchange thoughts on a subject of enormous importance. I also want to make certain suggestions which I think may be welcomed in regard to an idea to be found in the East, which perhaps is not quite familiar over here; and which presages a unity greater and profounder than could be reached, I think, in any other way. Naturally, I am putting only my own views, and they commit no one but myself. These questions that touch alike the intellect and the heart must always be treated reverently by those who realise the Brotherhood of man, and they are also ideas of the profoundest importance with regard to the future of religion and of civilisation.

In the Hibbert Journal of January last the subject that I have taken for our talk was to some extent discussed from the standpoint of one who I suppose would be called an extremely liberal Christian. The writer is the Rev. R. Roberts, Congregational minister, of Bradford; his name is still in the Congregational Year-book, but I heard that he was not at present ministering in any pulpit. I take his view as my starting-point this afternoon. The title of his article is at first sight a little startling from the ordinary Christian standpoint, “Jesus or Christ?” and he distinctly puts forward the view, and argues for it with a good deal of ability, that we have to do at once with one supposed to be a historical person, and then apparently with what he could only regard as a Mystical Ideal.

So far as I can gather from what he says, he does not regard the Christ as historical, though he does not very clearly draw the line as to how he would separate, historically, the Jesus of the Gospels from that Ideal which he names “The Christ.” He says that he and many other people find themselves beset by certain difficulties: “Are the claims to be presently set forth made on behalf of a spiritual ‘Ideal’ to which we may provisionally apply the word ‘Christ,’ or are they predicated of Jesus?” Then he goes on to say that insistence on limitations of knowledge, restrictions of outlook, evasions of issues, and disillusionments of experience, true enough of a historic Jesus, may not be wholly relevant to a spiritual “Christ Ideal,” expanding and enriching through the ages into “the Christ that is to be.” Then he says it would be still less applicable to one who is regarded as the “fulness of Godhead,” “Very God of very God.” That, practically, is his thesis, and he tries to show in this article that very many difficulties might be avoided if Christians were willing to recognise a Christ Ideal side by side with the historical Jesus. In that way they might evade some of the difficulties which are pressed against the conception of Jesus as the Christ by large numbers of people who find their faith challenged and themselves in difficulties by these objections which are put to them both inside and outside the Church. He quotes Dr. Fairbairn, writing on Christ in Modern Theology. “If He knows as God while He speaks as man, then His speech is not true to His knowledge, and within Him a bewildering struggle must ever proceed to speak as He seems and not as He is. If He had such knowledge, how could He remain silent as He faced human ignorance, and saw reason wearied with the burden of all its unintelligible mysteries? If men could believe that once there lived on this earth One who had all the knowledge of God, yet declined to turn any part of it into science for man, would they not feel their faith in His goodness taxed beyond endurance?” That view (which appears to be adopted by Mr. Roberts) does not seem to me necessarily at all a sound one, and it is by no means certain that a man speaking in a particular age to people among whom great limitations of knowledge existed, and with a particular object before Him—not to enlarge the bounds of science, but to deepen spirituality and lay a strong foundation of morals—that such a Teacher, however highly illuminated, however much speaking as the very Spirit of God, would say all that He knew with regard to external facts and external phenomena, with the certainty of making very difficult the reception of His message on points enormously important—on points, in fact, of vital and essential need for the higher spiritual progress of man. Hence it does not appear to me that Dr. Fairbairn’s issue is at all well taken. Every great teacher—not for the moment considering the special divinity of Christ or Jesus—who is speaking to people less instructed than himself is under a similar difficulty. If on matters of ordinary scientific knowledge he is illuminated where they are not, the very fact that he presses that upon them would bewilder and confuse. You cannot enable the human intellect to evolve at what might be called a supernatural rate. It is capable of growth, and often of rapid growth, but if you try to force it beyond the rapid natural growth, you will only perplex, bewilder, and confuse; and if your aim is not, broadly, to increase scientific knowledge, which man will inevitably find out for himself after a time, but to help him to the things which need spiritual illumination in order that he may receive them, then such a difficulty as is put here as to the inner bewilderment which would be felt by the speaker to speak as he seems, and not as he is, would not be bewilderment at all, but a quite deliberate limitation of what he said, with a view to the effectiveness of his work, and that which he desired to give to the people of his time. That is true necessarily of every great prophet, of every highly inspired man; and the greatness of the inspiration would chiefly be shown, not in the amount of physical knowledge which he might give, but rather in his avoidance of certain difficulties which, when the race grew more learned, might come in their way and complete their ideas. That is to say, he would evade the scientific difficulty as far as he possibly could, and would do it deliberately, knowing that that was not his particular work, and that he could not do his own work if he turned aside in this direction. So that, as far as I am personally concerned, looking on this from the standpoint of the Theosophist and Occultist, these difficulties to me do not exist. I realise that they must always be found where one who is superhuman—I object to the word supernatural—comes in any age of the world’s history in order to teach a new conception of religion, and in order to adapt what he is giving to the civilisation which he intends to influence.

It appears to me that it is a perfectly rational and necessary thing that the growth of knowledge from the ordinary standpoint should be left to work its way out along the lines of intellectual development; anything less than that will check intellectual growth inevitably, for intellectual growth can only come about by the freest of thought, the freest of discussion, the most absolute liberty to challenge everything and to controvert anything which appears to be illogical. The condition of intellectual growth is that of complete freedom, and any sort of limitation which is put upon it by the knowledge of a great teacher will only check that intellectual evolution which is essential for the future growth of man. Many similar difficulties, of course, are made with regard to all inspired Scriptures, and for that reason it seems to me that it is well that we distinguish definitely between the spiritual work of the spiritual teacher and the scientific investigation of the scientific student; that it should be realised that these two departments of human activity work under different laws to a very great extent, and that that which is spiritually known cannot always be justified to the intellect until that intellect becomes spiritually enlightened—that is, that you have to deal in man with a being who is fundamentally a spiritual being, in whom the divine Spirit becomes incarnate, embodied, but in whom that divine Spirit is going to unfold along three great lines of unfoldment which we find in all human consciousness, which we recognise as in the divine nature itself. It has to unfold to an ordered Activity which should be truly in harmony with the laws of nature, which are the expression of the divine nature in this manifested form. It has to unfold along the Intellectual line, and that unfoldment must be left utterly unfettered. It has also to evolve along that line which in its lowest stages is emotion, in its higher stages is religion; and that spiritual unfolding, the highest characteristic of Spirit showing itself out as Will, has to be developed from above more than from below, to come downward by illumination more than to climb upward by reasoning. Unless we can understand this complicated nature of man in whom divinity is gradually unfolding and mastering matter at every stage of its unfolding, mastering, purifying it, ultimately spiritualising it; in all its earlier stages limited by the matter that it has yet failed to master, gradually making it plastic and ductile, and then in its higher stages having utterly subdued it to its own purposes—unless we can understand that that is a rough outline of human evolution, we shall constantly find ourselves in difficulties between the intellectual growth and the spiritual unfolding. Hence whenever a man comes to earth in whom divinity is far more manifestly unfolded than in his fellow-men, he can only shed down upon them illumination from the spiritual region, stimulate their aims, but not control their intellect. If that be realised, then the whole of these difficulties, which are being made at the present time about the obvious limitations outwardly of the knowledge of the supreme Christian Teacher, will entirely fall out of court, and you will see that He was speaking to the people of His day in the way that He could best affect them in order to help forward their evolution from the standpoint where they were, and was not the least intent on showing out His enormous knowledge, which would only have crushed rather than assisted.

Suppose for the moment you can take that way of looking at human evolution—and it seems to me the most rational way of looking at it—then we come to deal with this special manifestation of the Teacher who was the Founder of Christianity, a Hebrew speaking to Hebrews, and having to reconcile the speaking to the people of His day with the speaking to people of generations after generations, through centuries and perhaps millennia to come, then we should be perfectly able to realise that we are here face to face with one of those supreme divine manifestations, and that in studying it we must be ready to separate between the Teacher of religion and the man speaking to the men of His day, and accepting their limitations in order that He might reach them effectively. I want to carry you very much further than that in what I say; all that might very well be accepted by any rational and intelligent Christian, especially if he finds himself able to realise that what is said of the divinity of Jesus is true at a very much lower level of all His brethren, that all men are fundamentally and essentially divine; that that which was said by the great teacher S. Paul: “Know ye not that your body is the temple of God, and that the Spirit of God dwelleth in you?” and that which was answered by Jesus Himself, when he was challenged for calling Himself the Son of God: “Is it not written in your law, I said, Ye are Gods, and ye are all the children of the Highest?” is literally true. If you realise all that is implied in that statement, that He is the first among many brethren, you will see that every Son of Man is potentially, and will hereafter be actually, a Son of God, meaning by that that Deity will unfold within him, and that a manifestly divine humanity is the natural goal of evolution.

One realises, in looking at an article like this, that by the mystic Christ—that is what the writer means—he means that in the Epistles a somewhat different view is taken from that of the Gospels, the one dealing specially with an historical person, the other with an indwelling Spirit. He realises that when the Apostle Paul declares to his converts that he is travailing in birth for them until Christ be formed in them, when he says in another passage that they are to develop to the measure of the stature of the fulness of Christ, he is holding up before them a picture of the birth in the soul of this divine Spirit that he spoke of as Christ, and the gradual unfolding of that into the perfection of divine manhood. That is perhaps the most inspiring ideal that can well be put before Christian people, that not only outside them but within them, not only as an outer helper but as an indwelling Spirit, this idea of the Christ is to be realised, and that that unfolding of the Christ in man is a real fact in religious consciousness, making that highest stage of human evolution when the man becomes perfect, and there only remains before him the superhuman evolution after the human is finished.

But I want to put to you rather a different idea of this relation between Jesus and Christ. I recognise to the full the value of that mystic ideal, I have not one word to say against it; in fact it is one that, when I am speaking to Christians, I constantly proclaim—the absolute necessity of that indwelling presence. But there is another view of this great Being which may be less familiar to you, which is the view taken by those who are sometimes called Occultists, in a very special sense of the term. Let me put it to you quite baldly for the moment, and then work it out a little more. The view that we take of that great Teacher who came to the world some two thousand years ago is, that the child who was born and who grew up into manhood until the time of the Baptism was a man of marvellous purity, of extraordinary spiritual intuition, but a man that we should call a disciple; that it was his to train and guard that pure body in preparation for the incoming of the indwelling Christ, and that in the Gospel story it is the event of the Baptism which marks the coming of the Christ. Let me just recall the words to you for a moment: “When Jesus went down into the water, the heavens opened, and the Spirit of God came down upon Him like a dove, and abode upon Him. And a voice was heard from heaven saying, ‘This is my beloved Son; hear ye Him.’” Now it is clear that that event, marked out so distinctly in the Gospel story, must connote something of enormous importance. There was no need, as it were, for Him who was to be the Teacher to be baptised, and to receive the downcoming Spirit of the Most High, unless in that there was hid some profound spiritual truth, unless something was there afterward that was not there before; and it is then, from the occult point of view, that the Jesus became the Christ. But let me put it to you even a little more closely. Here, of course, is where the point of difference will probably arise in the minds of many in regard to what I am saying, for all might be willing to recognise that that might imply a great downflow of spiritual energy, of divine life. From our standpoint Jesus the Hebrew, the individual, the spiritual man, stepped out of the body that he had been dwelling in through all those years and preparing for the coming of his Lord, giving it over as a holy temple for the incoming of the supreme Teacher, so that the body became the habitation of the supreme Teacher for the three years of the ministry. Now that view, as many of you who have studied Christian history will know, was very widely held in the early Church; although it was condemned later as the Gnostic heresy, none the less it was quite orthodox until its formal condemnation within the Catholic Church, until the time that it was expelled. You find it in many of the early writings of the learned Christian teachers, you find it warred against by some others of the Christian teachers and doctors and bishops of the time, but none the less it was a view which had very wide prevalence in the early Church; it was accepted by large numbers of profoundly learned men; and although ultimately condemned as a heresy in the forms in which it was put, it might none the less not be improbable, even from the standpoint of the orthodox, that some truth was hidden in it in the broad sense, even if the form in which it was put forward in the Church of those days was justly condemned. My own view is that they were right, not in all the details of the way in which they put it, but in the fundamental fact. Let us suppose for a moment that they were so; then the question would necessarily arise—who is the Christ? And it is there that, as I said, there was one view that might be unfamiliar to you in the West, yet which, it seems to me, should be to the Christian a view full of beauty and full of hope for the future. There is only one Supreme Teacher of mankind. There is a great office above all those whom we Theosophists speak of as Masters—a Master of Masters, so to speak—the one Supreme Teacher. In Christendom you speak of him by the Greek name, a name which, as you know, was taken from the Grecian mysteries, of which a particular grade of initiation bore the name of the Christos, and the Adept who reached that grade was spoken of as the Christos. That was the name which was adopted in the early Church, according to the account in the Acts, to designate this great Teacher who had come to the world, and we should say, rightly adopted. It is an instance of spiritual insight recognising a great truth.

But now, supposing I ask you to go to the people of other religions for a moment, the ancient religions that we find in the eastern world. Suppose I ask a member of the most ancient of those, the Hindu faith: “Do you recognise in your religion one supreme World-Teacher above all religions, and not belonging to one exclusively—a universal Teacher?”—he would say, “of Gods and men”; over here you would say, “of Angels and men,” because the word there, Deva, is equivalent to your word Angel. He would at once say: “Why, yes; of course we recognise one Supreme Teacher at the head of all spiritual life and impulse, and we call him (pardon me if I use for the moment their name) the Jagat-Guru—the World-Teacher.” Supposing I went to another great religion there—the Buddhist—and I asked a member the same question: “Do you recognise in your religion a Supreme Teacher?” his answer would at once be, “Why, of course we do. There is only one who holds the place of Teacher over all Gods and all men; one Teacher only who is the Teacher of the world. We call Him the Bodhisattva—the Wisdom-Truth.” No nobler name could be given to Him; He is the Wisdom and the Truth; not the Buddha, as you may have expected me to say; He was not the Teacher. When He reached Buddhahood He passed away from earth. It is while He is going onwards to Buddhahood that He is known by this name of Wisdom-Truth, or Boddhisattva. During the whole of that period of teaching He has this name; and then when the supreme illumination comes to Him his office is finished, and He passes away from earth. Of course, as we know, the last Buddha remained in his body for some time, still teaching, but none the less the office of the Teacher is not to the Buddhist the Buddha, but he who is to be the Buddha—what you would call the Christ glorified and ascended, not the Christ on earth teaching and suffering. It is interesting to notice how in the various religions these same points arise and these same differences are seen under different names, so that we see that in these two greatest of eastern religions a Supreme Teacher is recognised. Now, from the occult standpoint, it is that Teacher who came as the Christ; and, supposing that all Christian people recognised that fact, they would reach the hearts of the eastern world far better than they do now, if, instead of telling them they must worship the Christ, they would say to them, “You are already worshipping Him under a different name,” which is supremely true; for it is the same Being who holds that office through all these thousands of years, the same supreme Perfection. He only comes into manifestation in order to help His younger brethren; He leaves that body when its utility for the moment is over; when, being so great in comparison with the people to whom He came, they could no longer tolerate His presence.

Now that is the view of the nature of the Christ which you would find among, say, Occultists or well-instructed Theosophists. They recognise in the Christ of Christendom the Supreme Teacher of the world, but they do not admit that He will come only once to the world; they reverence and honour Him now as still the Supreme World-Teacher, but they do not identify Him with the great disciple who took the Jewish name as Jesus, and who is now amongst us as the Master who is the Guide and Helper of the Christian Church. There is the point where the difference would come in. The orthodox Christian would claim Him as supreme over all religions, but he would hardly recognise difference between the disciple who has become the Master with the special Christian Church in His charge, and the Supreme Teacher who, while He certainly ever sends His benediction upon Christianity, sends it also upon the other great religions of the world. This is where I feel the difference might come in between myself and many of you. To us the great Master Jesus, who is, as you would also acknowledge—those of you, at least, who are members of the Church of England—thus still dwelling in a human body, still embodied literally, has that power which the Master on the higher planes of being has, of being spiritually in touch with all who call upon Him, with all who look to Him for guidance, but none the less still possesses a physical body. This is a point of enormous importance (although not as important as spiritual omnipresence), for it means to us, and it means to many Christians who think with us, and are Theosophists with us, a possibility of a close and personal relation, as of a disciple to a Master, which goes somewhat beyond the spiritual communion which every true Christian has with his great Teacher. How should I put that to convey exactly what I mean in clear and definite language? I must put it, I think, by giving a general principle with regard to these great Beings whom we speak of as Masters, divine men, men made perfect, which works through the whole of that great Brotherhood. They have many ways of working in the world; through their own subtle, spiritual bodies they work, sending out floods of blessing over the whole world; but, in addition to that spiritual impulse and spiritual blessing which flow into every heart that opens itself to receive them, with an ever present and potent power, there is an even closer and more specialised communion between the Spirit as embodied and those who are still wearing human bodies themselves, a possibility which the saints have realised of that personal and individual and specialised communion with their Master where they saw Him, heard Him; where to them He became, not only a spiritual presence, but an individualised Teacher, and even Friend; where they knew themselves as disciples, and knew Him as Master, which is the great mark, after all, of those who are specifically called the saints. For that close and intimate and specialised relationship the body is necessary; and hence, although sceptics have very often challenged that Article of the Church of England where it says that “He did truly take again His body, with flesh and bones, and all things appertaining to the perfection of man’s nature,” it does convey a fundamental and essential truth: the great Teacher is not only a spiritual Presence, He is a human though divine Being, who can be specifically and personally known. And if this latest impulse of Divine Wisdom which we call Theosophy is to be of use to Christendom, it will be along these lines of gradually winning Christians back to a conception that has been very largely lost—that their touch with their Divine Master must be much closer and more realised in the brain and human heart as contact of disciple and Teacher, than when they are thinking of Him as Deity, when they are regarding Him as the second Person in the Trinity. How far that will commend itself to many of you it is, of course, impossible for me to say; but let the outline, at least, be clear, so that it may be definitely understood. It is the conception of a Christ for whom a body was prepared, and prepared by His own well-loved disciple, who guarded, tended, trained it through the years of childhood, of youth, and of early manhood; a body surrendered to the incoming mighty Personage, who is the Supreme Teacher of the world, incoming at the point marked by the Baptism, worn until the time of the death, so that through the whole of that teaching, the ministerial life, it was not Jesus but the Christ who was the Teacher who founded Christianity. That body is laid aside, but He is still Lord of all religions, and He gives to His well-beloved disciple who became the Master Jesus this religion specifically as his charge, his work in the world. Other religions would have other Masters, but only one Supreme; others would look to other divine men made perfect, but would recognise beyond them this Master of Masters; and hence all religions draw together in the Supreme Teacher, and find there unity in that greatest and mightiest of all. So that every religion looks up to the one Teacher through Masters who specifically belong to the various faiths of the world. That is the view which is very generally held in the Theosophical Society, although none is bound to accept it, inasmuch as we impose no dogmas upon anyone; it is the view which is taken by those who have been most thoroughly instructed in this matter; and it seems to me that it is one of extreme interest to thoughtful people, even if they do not find themselves able to accept it.

That is, then, the view of the nature of Christ that I would submit to you; and if you look at it you will see that the whole of the criticisms to which I have referred fall to pieces, and no longer need disturb the hearts or consciences of any; for it would be recognised that you have here a manifestation of the same great Being, but not a unique manifestation, who adapts Himself to the needs of His time, gives out so much of His wisdom and truth as He thinks can be accepted by the people of His day and generation, but who, in giving it, gives with it an inspiring Spirit, which enables future generations to find more and more in that teaching, and as they themselves develop spiritually, to find ever greater depths in the teaching which had been given by the Christ. You will see how naturally that view passes on into the future, and why it is that many of us, believing that a new civilisation is dawning upon earth, also believe that the same Supreme Teacher will again be manifested, again to tread the earth as He trod it in JudÆa, again to enlighten the world with spiritual wisdom, again to strike the keynote of a new civilisation, gathering all the religions of the world under that supreme teaching of His own, so that we look forward to a coming Christ as well as backward to a Christ in His last manifestation on the earth.

Lecture VII
The Theosophical Student in face of Revelation, Inspiration, and Observation

A Lecture delivered to the British Convention of the Theosophical Society, July 4th, 1909

Friends: Those who seriously take up the study of Theosophy should not be satisfied with the mere reading of the voluminous theosophical literature poured out into the world through the centuries of the past, and continuing to flow into it in our own days. They should, in addition, if they have any innate faculty for such investigation, prepare to develop the faculties by which they may verify for themselves that which they are told by others. But in all cases much theoretical study is desirable before passing on into the practical, and in most cases it may not be possible to develop the subtler senses within the limits of the present incarnation, although a good foundation may be laid for such development in the next. Hence theoretical study must form a large part of the training of every theosophical student, and his attitude towards such study is a matter of serious importance. He needs to discriminate between the books he reads, and to suit his attitude to the type of the book; he must seek to understand what is meant by Revelation, what by Inspiration, and to distinguish revealed from inspired literature, and both from the records of observations.

Some Scriptures which are regarded as authoritative lie at the back of all the great religions. Thus Hinduism has the Veda. The word means knowledge, and this knowledge is of that which is eternally true. It is the knowledge of the Logos, the knowledge of the Lord of a universe; the knowledge of what is, not of what seems; the knowledge of realities, not of phenomena. This abides ever in the Logos; it is part of Himself. In its manifested form, as revealed for the helping of man, it becomes the Vedas, and in this form goes through many stages, until finally little of the original remains. All Hindu schools of philosophy acknowledge the supreme authority of the Vedas; but after this formal acknowledgment is made, the intellect is allowed to range freely at its will—to inquire, to judge, to speculate. Rigid as Hinduism is in its social polity, it has ever left the human intellect free; in philosophy, in metaphysic, it has ever realised that truth should be sought, and no penalty inflicted on error; error being sufficiently penalised by the fact that it is error, and breeds misfortunes under natural laws. Even to-day that ancient liberty is maintained, and a man may think and write as he will provided that he follows in practise the social customs of his caste. The Hindu divides all knowledge into two types—the supreme and the lower. In the lower he places all his sacred books—following in this the dictum of an Upanishad[5]—together with all other literature, all science, all instruction; in the category of the supreme he places only “the knowledge of Him by whom all else is known.” There you have Hinduism in a nutshell. When once supreme knowledge has been attained and illumination has been experienced, all Scriptures become useless. This is asserted plainly and boldly in a well-known passage in the Bhagavad Gita: “All the Vedas are as useful to an enlightened Brahmana as is a tank in a place covered over with water.”[6] What need of a tank when water is everywhere? What need of Scriptures when the man is enlightened? Revelation is useless to the man to whom the Self is revealed.

In the early days of Buddhism the Vedas held high place, for the Lord Buddha, as Dr. Rhys Davids says, “was born and brought up, and lived and died a Hindu.”[7] But the charter of intellectual freedom for Buddhists is contained in the wise advice of their Teacher: “Do not believe in a thing said merely because it is said; nor in traditions because they have been handed down from antiquity; nor in rumours, as such; nor in writings by sages, merely because sages wrote them … nor on the mere authority of your own teachers or masters. But we are to believe when the writing, doctrine, or saying is corroborated by our own reason and consciousness. For this I have taught you: not to believe merely because you have heard; but when you believed of your own consciousness, then to act accordingly and abundantly.”[8] Even revelation, for the Buddhist, must be brought to the touchstone of reason and consciousness; there must be a response to it from within, the interior witness of the Self, ere it can be accepted as authoritative.

In the Christian and Muhammadan faiths—both largely influenced by Judaism—the authoritative nature of revelation is carried further than in any earlier faith. In modern days the yoke of a revealed Scripture has been much lightened for Christianity by the growth of the critical spirit and by the researches of scholars. The modern Christian student is little more hampered by his revelation than is the Hindu by his. A conventional reverence is yielded, a lifting of the hat, and then the student goes freely on his way.

What is Revelation? It is a communication from a Being superior to humanity of facts known to Himself, but unknown to those to whom He makes the revelation—facts which they cannot reach by the exercise of the powers that they have so far evolved. These facts can be verified at any time by one who has climbed to the level of the Revealer, who may be an Avatara, a Rishi, a Founder of a religion. They “speak with authority,” the authority of knowledge, the one authority to which all sane men bow. We do not find that these great Beings wrote down Their teachings Themselves; They taught, but They did not record. Some follower, some disciple, it may be after the lapse of many years, even of centuries, wrote down what he or his forefathers had heard; hence the revelation—and to this rule there is probably no exception—is inevitably to some extent coloured, narrowed, distorted by the transcriber. That which was heard originally by those round the divine Teacher exists indeed in the akashic records, and may ever be recovered thence by those who have developed the inner senses by which those records may be read. In many cases true records will have been made at the time by highly qualified persons; but such precious books are kept securely in the custody of their chosen guardians, in secret temples, in rock libraries, available for the study of high Occultists, but of none other.

The Muhammadans would claim that in the case of their sacred book there is more certainty that the very words of their Prophet were preserved. And doubtless to this is due the overwhelming authority of Al Quran in the minds of the faithful of Islam.

What should be the attitude of the Theosophical Student towards revelation? He should treat the Scriptures of the world with reverence, remembering their origin, but none of them with submission, remembering that they are transmitted to him by varied channels. He should call to his aid the best scholarship, should gain all the light he can from archÆological and historical researches, and use his best critical judgment in separating the essential truth revealed from all the accretions that may have grown up around it. If he has developed his higher psychic qualities, he should try to trace and disentangle the ancient from the modern, search the akashic records for comparison, confirmation, or contradiction of the revelation as it has come into his hands. How immense might be the services of such Theosophical Students as they become more numerous and better equipped for this gigantic task. And without this external equipment much may be done by inner unfoldment; he may unfold within himself his own spiritual powers; he may seek in profound meditation the truth which shines in the revelation beneath many a veil of ignorance and misconstruction; he may so purify his life that his bodies will become translucent of the light of the spirit within him, will illumine the written words. “The things of God knoweth no man but the Spirit of God.” But that Spirit dwells in every child of man; and as His light shines out, the divine things are revealed to the pure in heart. Until the inner Spirit thus responds to the revealed teachings and statements, the Theosophical Student must hold his judgment in suspense before the claims of any revelation. It is not true for him until he can re-echo it in the voice of his own Spirit, his deepest Self. Useful and beautiful it may be; worthy of profoundest study and reverent research are the world’s Bibles. But until they are affirmed by the Spirit within submission cannot be yielded, lest that should be given to the errors of men which is due only to the divine Spirit.

What is Inspiration? The raising of the normal human faculties by some extraneous influence through grade after grade of intellectual, moral, and spiritual power, up to the point where the extraneous influence may even expel the man from his body and use it for the expression of another individual; where the new possessor is a Being at a height utterly transcending man, inspiration may pass into revelation. Some may think the word should be restricted to the raising of the powers of the subject from above their normal capacity to the highest point of their possible exercise, short of the expulsion of their owner and his replacement by another individual greater than himself.

The lower grades of inspiration are within the experience of very many. Have you never felt, when listening to a speaker whose knowledge and power transcended your own, that your mental faculties were lifted to a higher level than that to which you could rise unaided? On such occasions you grasp questions that hitherto have eluded you; you see plainly, where before there had been obscurity; the field of thought becomes illumined, and objects are seen in hitherto undreamed-of relations—you feel that you know. On the following day you desire to share with a friend the treasures you acquired, and you begin to recount the luminous exposition, to describe the great horizons which opened before you. You fail: where is the light, where the far-off scenes over which your eyes had swept? Your mind has sunk again to its normal level; the inspiration has passed away. As with the intellectual, so with the moral faculties. You had seen an unknown beauty, had felt an overwhelming admiration for the lofty and the pure: what has become of the warmth, the ardour? Are the cold ashes of the intellectual approval all that remains of the throbbing heart, the passionate delight in the moral ideal? Why does it now look so cold, so grey, so unattractive? You were raised to a higher level than you can reach unassisted; but none the less has the moral ideal and its power been shown to thee “in the Mount,” and the fact that you have once experienced its all-compelling power will render you more susceptible to it in the future, and the day will come when that which you felt when inspired by another shall become the normal exercise of your own moral faculties.

Coming to higher grades of inspiration, we may know, some of us, what it is to stand in the presence of the Masters, and to feel the marvellous uplift of Their presence. There is no need for words, no need for teaching; Their presence is enough. From that presence we go out again into the ordinary world, to feel the difference of its atmosphere from that of the Holy One. But, we have known, and the memory remains an abiding power.

Those who have written or spoken under inspiration have been thus uplifted, their own intellectual and moral faculties have thus been stimulated, and raised far above their normal level. It is still they who write or speak, and their own characters and temperaments colour what they say, leave their own impress on what they write. But they write and speak far more nobly, far more powerfully than they could do unassisted.

And so we may rise from grade to grade of inspiration until we reach the stage at which the mind and emotions of the man no longer sway his body, but the body is wholly taken possession of and used by One greater than himself. Then it is no longer the man himself who speaks, but “the Spirit of” his “Father who speaketh in” him; his own limitations are struck away, his own idiosyncrasies vanish, and the inspired utterances flow forth unsullied. Then inspiration may range into revelation.

The process of all this is a very simple one. We know that by the correlation between changes in consciousness and vibrations of matter, each change in consciousness is accompanied by a vibration of the matter appropriated by the consciousness and forming its body; each vibration of the matter of a body is accompanied by a change in the embodied consciousness. Either one of the pair may be the initiator; the other ever responds. When two or more people are together, one more evolved than the other or others, the more evolved person, thinking, desiring, acting, sets up in his own bodies, mental, astral, and physical, a series of vibrations which corresponds to the changes in his consciousness; these vibrations cause similar vibrations in the mental, astral, and physical matter intervening between himself and the less advanced person or persons present. These vibrations in the intervening matter cause similar vibrations in the neighbouring body or bodies. These vibrations are immediately answered by corresponding changes in the embodied consciousness or consciousnesses, and the person or persons concerned, thus placed en rapport with one more advanced, think, desire, act on a higher level than would be possible for them on their own initiative. They are able to understand more keenly, to feel more warmly, to act more nobly than they could do unassisted. When the stimulus is removed they gradually sink back to their normal level, but memory is left, and they remember that they “have known.” Moreover, it is more easy for them to respond a second time, and so on and on, until they establish themselves on the higher level permanently. Hence the value of companionship with those more advanced than ourselves, of living “in their atmosphere.” Words are not necessary; little speech may pass; but insensibly the subtle body is tuned to a higher key, and only, perhaps, when the companionship is interrupted do the younger become conscious of the change which has thus been brought about by contact with the elder.

Similar results may be brought about by reading the writings of those who are more evolved than we are. A similar series of changes is set up, though less powerfully than by the living presence. Moreover, intent and reverent study may attract the attention of the writer whether he be in or out of the body, and may draw him to the student, and thus cause the latter to be enveloped in his atmosphere quite as potently as though he were physically present. Hence the value of reading noble literature: we are keyed up to its level for the time, and such reading, steadily persevered in, will lift us to a higher level and establish us thereon. Hence the value of a brief reading before meditation, lifting us into an air more favourable to the work of meditation than we can start from unassisted. Hence the value also of “holy places” for such meditation, places where the atmosphere is literally vibrating at a higher rate than our own; and hence the advice so often given by the instructed, to keep, if possible, a room or closet set apart for meditation, such a place soon gaining an atmosphere purer and subtler than that of the surrounding world. It is of little use for the theosophical student to be acquainted with these laws if he does not utilise them to his own helping, and to the helping of those around him.

What should be the attitude of the theosophical student towards the inspired man or the inspired book? He should be receptive, stilling all his normal vibrations so far as is possible, and opening his whole nature to the impact and influx of the waves of vibration that pour forth upon him. But his attitude should be more than receptive: he should gently endeavour to attune himself and to co-operate with the inflowing waves. He should try to strengthen the sympathetic vibrations, so that the accompanying changes in consciousness may be as complete as possible. For this he must pour out to the inspiring Object his love, his trust, his complete confidence and self-surrender, for thus only can he attune his bodies into sympathy with those of the Inspirer. He must, for the time, empty himself of his own ideas, his own feelings, his own activities, surrendering himself to reproduce, not to initiate. As the unruffled lake can mirror the moon and the stars, but as that same lake rippled by a passing breeze can yield only broken reflexions, so may the lower being, steadying his mind, calming his desires, and imposing stillness on his activities, reproduce within himself the image of the higher, so may the disciples mirror the Master’s mind. And so, also, if his own thoughts spring up, his own desires arise, will he have but broken reflexions, dancing lights, that tell him nought.

If you are going to read one of the inspired books of the world—The Imitation of Christ; The Golden Verses of Pythagoras; The Light on the Paths; The Voice of the Silence—it is well to preface the reading with a prayer, if that be your habitual way of raising your consciousness to its highest mood, or with the repetition of a mantra, or the soft chanting of some familiar and beloved rhythm, in order to bring yourself into a sympathetic condition. Then read a phrase, re-read, brood over it, savour it mentally, suck out its essence, its life.

Thus shall your subtle body become, to some extent at least, attuned to that of the inspired writer, and repeating his vibrations, shall set up in your consciousness the corresponding changes. Priceless is the value of inspired books: they are steps of a ladder set up between earth and heaven, a veritable Jacob’s ladder, on which descend and ascend the angels of God.

There remains a third class of books worthy of the attention of the theosophical student, but towards which his attitude should be entirely different from those which he adopts towards the revealed and the inspired. These are books containing the observations of students more advanced than himself, observations carried on upon planes above the physical, observations made by students who are evolving in knowledge of, and in power on, those planes, and have not yet reached the stature of the Perfect Man. There are books such as The Secret Doctrine and Esoteric Buddhism, written by disciples, which are not records of the direct observations of students, but are rather transcriptions of the teachings of Masters, into which errors may creep by misunderstandings of those teachings. H. P. Blavatsky herself told us that there were inevitably errors in The Secret Doctrine; and as we have in that wonderful book her own descriptions of the pictures shown to her by her Master, there is an opening for possible errors of observation: these are probably not serious, as she was carefully overlooked and aided during the writing. These two books stand apart from the bulk of our literature, the Masters having been largely concerned in their production. The books I have in mind are those written by disciples, using their own normal faculties, faculties still in course of evolution; books relating chiefly to the astral, mental, and buddhic planes, to the constitution of man, to the past of individuals, nations, races, and worlds. We are gradually accumulating a large amount of literature of this kind, a literature of observations by students using superphysical faculties. With regard to this, certain things need to be borne in mind.

First: the students in question are in course of evolution, and the faculties of which they make use to-day, which have become their normal faculties, are more developed and reach higher planes than those which they used ten or fifteen years ago. Hence they see now very much more than they saw then, both in quantity and quality, and this enlarged sight must inevitably give reports differing in fulness from that of the earlier and narrower vision.

Secondly: this greater fulness will change relative proportions and perspective. A thing which seemed imposing and independent when seen alone, may become subordinate and comparatively insignificant when seen as a part of a larger whole. It may change form and colour, seen with surroundings which become visible only when it is looked at with a higher vision. That which was a globe, sailing through space, to the physical eye, becomes the free end of a continuous body, materially attached to the sun, when seen with superphysical sight. Was it false to describe it a globe? Yes, and no.

It was and is a globe on the physical plane, answering to all that is meant by a globe down here. In subtler regions it is not a globe, but a body, the tip of which is a globe only to gross vision, vision to which its continuation is invisible.

Thirdly: the keener vision detects intermediate stages before unseen, and shows a series of changes between two which, to the less acute sight, were in immediate sequence. Thus, in the earlier observations, it was said that the ultimate physical atom broke up into astral matter. When a similar phenomenon is studied twelve years later, it is seen that the physical atom breaks up into an immense number of inconceivably minute particles, and that these immediately group themselves into forty-nine astral atoms, which may or may not, again, combine into astral molecules. Again, a whirling wall was mentioned: keener vision sees no wall, but an illusory enclosure, caused by rapid motion, like the fiery circle traced by a whirling fire-tipped stick. So, in the continuous light of gas or electricity, a whirling disk of black and white rays shows grey; put out the lights, and let the darkness be rent by a lightning-flash, the disk hangs motionless, every black and white ray distinct. Which is the true observation? The eye in each case bears true witness to what it sees. The different conditions impose upon it different visions.

Other differences also arise, but these may serve as samples. Are, then, books relating to observations useless? They only become useless, even mischievous, when the theosophical student treats them as revelations or inspirations instead of as observations. Observation is the basis of scientific knowledge; the correction of earlier observations by later ones is the condition of scientific progress. The student of optics, when confronted with the black-and-white rayed disk, the grey disk, the whirling disk hanging motionless, does not conclude that the conflicting observations make observations useless. He searches for and finds the conditions of light, of the constitution of the eye, which explain the equally true though contradictory reports. He submits the observations to renewed experiment and to the scrutiny of reason, until from the contradictions emerges the many-sided truth.

What should be the attitude of the theosophical student to books of observations? To all such books you must take up the attitude of the scientific student, not of the believer. You must bring to bear upon them a bright intelligence, a keen mind, an eager intellect, a thoughtful and critical reason. You must not accept as final, observations made by other students, even though those students are using faculties which you yourselves have not as yet developed. You should accept them only for what they are—observations liable to modification, to correction, to reviewal. You should hold them with a light grasp, as hypotheses temporarily accepted until confirmed or negated by further observations, including your own. If they illuminate obscurities, if they conduce to sound morality, take them and use them; but never let them become fetters to your mind, gaolers of your thought. Study these books, but do not swallow them; understand them, but hold your judgment in suspense: these books are useful servants but dangerous masters; they are to be studied, not worshipped. Make your own opinions, do not borrow those of others; do not be in such a hurry to know that you accept other people’s knowledge, for ready-made opinions, like ready-made clothes, are neither well-fitting nor becoming.

There is a dangerous tendency in the Theosophical Society to make books of observations authoritative instead of using them as materials for study. We must not add to the number of blind believers who already exist, but to the number of sane and sober students, who patiently form their own opinions and educate their own faculties. Use your own judgment on every observation submitted to you; examine it as thoroughly as possible; criticise it as fully as you can. It is a poor service you do us when you turn students into popes, and, parrot-like, repeat as authoritative, statements that you do not know to be true. Moreover, blind belief is the road to equally blind scepticism: you place a student on a pedestal and loudly proclaim him to be a prophet, despite his protests; and then, when you find he has made some mistake, as he warned you was likely, you turn round, pull him down, and trample on him. You belabour him when you should belabour your own blindness, your own stupidity, your own anxiety to believe.

Is it not time that we should cease to be children, and begin to be men and women, realising the greatness of our opportunities and the smallness of our achievements? It is not time to offer to Truth the homage of study instead of that of blind credulity? Let us ever be ready to correct a mistaken impression or an imperfect observation, to walk with open eyes and mind alert, remembering that the best service to Truth is examination. Truth is a sun, shining by its own light; once seen, it cannot be rejected. “Let Truth and falsehood grapple; who ever knew Truth put to the worse in a fair encounter?”