SOUL, SELF, INDIVIDUALITY, AND KARMA.

"Verily every man is altogether vanity; for man walketh in a vain show, he disquieteth himself in vain."—Bible.

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The feat of mental gymnastics performed by Gotama regarded as a phenomenal being, which led to the abrogation of "soul" as an ego-entity from its dominion in the minds of men, combined with the amazing fact that nearly a third of the population of this planet has, for many centuries, enthusiastically acquiesced in this dethronement of animism, must be regarded as one of the most striking wonders in the religious history of the human race.

As astronomical science disposed of the geocentric theory of the universe, greatly to the advantage of theological progressiveness, so the exponents of modern psychology hope to dispel the delusion of the ego-centric theory of man, and to clear the way for a more scientific and a truer conception of that which is commonly understood by the word "soul." According to the teaching of these psychologists, there is no ego-entity, or hidden and mysterious factor, that stands behind the psychic and physical organism of man.

The soul of man consists of a group of ideas, and these ideas are in intimate connection with the so-called external world, as also with what may be expressed as the internal world of a Being wherein has taken place the development of the hereditary germ.

In Buddhism it appears to me to be a matter of choice whether we apply the term "soul" to a group of ideas, which, in the case of the Saint, as sublimated ideas, synchronously cease with the formative faculty, and vanish ultimately into the unconditioned, or to the effects of a man's disposition, which continue as impressions on the characters of those who receive them.

"Man" is a name for a materialized presentation of reality—that is, for particles of matter assuming form under the influence of a formative faculty and the results of the interactions, relations, and qualities peculiar to the particles and this particular aggregation.

On the occurrence of what is known as death the components of the body are no longer held together, as it were, by the formative faculty, and the body loses its vitality. But, in the ordinary course of things, of form there remains this formulative faculty, or impulse to re-combine. "Form is destructible, yet it remains 'form' in the sense that it has within it the power to renew form."

The most important factor in the formation of man is not the material particles that make up his body, but "form." This "form" is a reality, but not a materiality. If the interaction of the component parts, under the influence of externalities, ceases to work towards the preservation of the formative faculty or re-combining influence, a material presentation of "form" will not re-ensue, and the discontinuance of the formative element is Reality, Truth, Nirvana, God.

If the desire to describe a triangle on paper does not exist, the materialized presentation of a real axiomatic triangle will not be formed, while the perfect triangle still remains a Reality. In this case, under certain influences, the formative faculty has been subdued, and the consequence is that the material form of the triangle, in its necessary imperfection, has not been produced. The perfect triangle is the undescribed triangle. Should bubbles on the surface of the ocean be deprived of this formative faculty which made them as they are, the power to resume their shape after dissolution would be gone for ever. But if the faculty to re-form remained, they would again crop up on the surface of the sea, the formative faculty making use of the materials at hand under the influences of "form."

Analogously, the Saint, according to Buddhism, who is rid of the formative faculty, does not re-exist as a phenomenal being. It might be objected that to make use of the expression "formative faculty" is only to revert to the doctrine of essences and faculties as principles of explanation, and to rely on the exploded superstition of apriorism. But this is not the case. The formative faculty is a quality of form, and form is an experience. The intangible and manifest, such as form, can as reasonably be credited with qualities as the tangible and material.

"The soul is a special form of life, as the flame is a special form of motion." It is also a product of life, and life is the arrangement and re-arrangement of matter, subject to form, with which are associated the qualities of matter and the relations and interactions of these qualities.

"Gotama," Dr. Paul Carus remarks, "strange to say, anticipated the modern conception of the soul as it is now taught by the most advanced scientists of Europe." St. Paul, too, may be reckoned as one who, if he had lived in these days, would have given his support to that positive philosophy which regards the soul as a product of materiality; for, he says: "Howbeit that was not first which was spiritual, but that which was natural, and afterwards that which is spiritual. The first man is of the earth earthy; the second man (the soul) is the Lord from heaven."

When the distinction between the expressions "materiality" and "reality" is clearly discerned, it removes a difficulty out of our way when we come to consider a means of bringing into harmony the Christian and Buddhist conception of "soul." It has been contended that, if you deny substance to the soul, it is tantamount to asserting the non-existence of the soul. But if it is admitted that "reality" has existence as well as "materiality," this objection falls to the ground.

The definition of matter as that which occupies space is not a comprehensive one. It is only the definition of a supposed quality of matter; it is abstracted in our minds from other qualities. Therefore, if we regard "soul," more especially in its sublimated condition, as something akin to a quality of matter after matter, as we perceive it, has been abstracted, we have a residuum which both Christians and Buddhists alike can accept as an approximate explanation of the nature of "soul."

The eschatology of the soul, as indicated in the two systems, is less easy to harmonize. The soul, according to Catholic notions, after the death of the body, undergoes a purgatorial process; and, in the general view of Protestants, awaits—sleeping or waking—in the ante-room of a judgment-hall until a final verdict is pronounced on the Day of Doom; and then, and not till then, is it allotted its ultimate rest or unrest.

On the other hand, that which is in Buddhistic thought the counterpart of this soul, whether we call it a "group of ideas" or the "effects of Karma," must submit, till absolutely bereft of the formative faculty or desire to live, to continuous incarnations. This, however, does not involve a process of transmigration, as is sometimes incorrectly assumed.

Several illustrations have been made use of to explain the migrationless nature of the process. "When a lamp is lit at a burning lamp there is a kindling of the wick, but no transmigration of the flame." A thought is conveyed by words from one to another, but of the thought itself there is no migration. Neither is there migration of any part of an object to a photographic plate, nor in the reflection of an object in a mirror.

It is matter for speculation whether the Christian idea of tarriance in an ante-room, and more especially the purgatorial process, might not be strained in meaning so as to imply that re-incarnation on this planet is the fate of some souls, prior to their ultimate reception into Paradise or condemnation to everlasting fire. Some such idea, maybe, was afloat in the lifetime of Jesus, when the question was asked: "Is this Elias come again?"

The Christian and Buddhist conception of "soul" differs considerably as to position. The one stands isolated; the other is not so posited. The soul, according to the Buddhist, is not a "self-in-itself." "Buddhism does not deny the existence of a soul or individuality, but denies the independent existence of a soul or individuality." The Christian conception of the soul corresponds with that of Kapila, the founder of the Sankhya philosophy, in so far as he conceived the soul to be a kind of transcendent, sublimated body, the thinker of our thoughts and the doer of our acts. This dualism was rejected by Gotama.

It is necessary to bear in mind, with a view to the proper comprehension of Buddhist teaching in regard to the immortality of the soul, that, "although the SamskÂras, or soul-forms, constituting our existence, come to an end as activities in the case of the saint who has extinguished desire, there remains an immortal residuum in the unconditioned elements of soul-form which are beyond the reach of death." After death such a saint might be said to have a continued existence (as others have) in the effects shed upon others by his Karma during his lifetime. The difference, as I understand it, is this: that, in the case of the saint, the formative element of Karma, as it has taken shape in bodily existence, ceases to be from the date of his sainthood; and subsequently the effects of Karma, which must continue to be shed on others as impressions as long as he lives, are informative—that is, do not carry with them a desire to live; and, consequently, the saint, from the date of his sainthood, may be said to have no continuing existence in the life of another sentient being.

Dr. Paul Carus, in his handy little book, entitled The Dharma; or, The Religion of Enlightenment, remarks: "Buddhism sheds a new light upon Christian doctrine. Thus the continuity in the evolution of life, which does away with a wrong conception of a separate self, explains and justifies the Christian idea of original sin (or, as it ought to be called, 'inherited sin'); for men inherit not only the curse of their ancestors' sin, but actually consist of their sinful dispositions; every man is a re-incarnation of previous deeds, and represents, for good and for evil, their legitimate continuation."

"Being," in a Buddhistic sense, in the words of Professor Oldenberg's translator, is the procession regulated by the law of causality—of continuous being at every moment, self-consuming and anew-begetting. What is termed a "souled" being is one individual in the line of this procession, one flame in a sea of flame.

So quaintly beautiful is the following dialogue between King Milinda (the Greek King Menander) and the Saint Nagasena that, notwithstanding its frequent quotation, I venture to reproduce it:—

"The Saint Nagasena says: 'It is not the same being, and yet they are separate beings, which relieve one another in the series of existences.'

"'Give an illustration,' says King Milinda. 'If a man were to light a light, O great king, would it not burn through the night?'—'Yes, sire; it would burn through the night.' 'How, then, O great king, is the flame in the first watch of the night identical with the flame in the midnight watch?'—'No, sire.' 'And the flame in the midnight watch—is it identical with the flame in the last watch of the night?'—'No, sire.' 'But how then, O great king, was the light in the first watch of the night another, in the midnight watch another, and in the last watch of the night another?'—'No, sire; it has burned all night long, feeding on the same fuel.' 'So, also, O great king, the chain of elements of being (Dhamma) completes itself; the one comes, the other goes. Without beginning, without end, the circle completes itself; therefore it is neither the same being nor another being which presents itself last to the consciousness.'"[AD]

Omar Khayyam says:—

The body disappears, even in Christian eschatology, as an earthly body for ever; but its scattered chemicals are re-utilized, according to some, to clothe the soul in heavenly places, or for purposes of torture and indescribable anguish. Others have sought consolation in the thought of the reappearance of the body's elements in various beautiful forms—in the ruby goblet, in the flowers, in the foam of the sea:—

Of those believing in the separateness of the soul there may be many who fondly crave that the "gentle dews" of eternal sleep may fall at last upon its suppliant eyes.

A writer in the Monist of January, 1898, makes the following remarks in a reference to "self": "In the psychological theories of Christianity and Buddhism there is more agreement than at first sight appears, for it is difficult to say what we must understand by self. 'Personality' is used by Christian thinkers in a very loose sense. In the doctrine of the Trinity it is not incompatible to speak of three personalities in One."

He quotes texts from St. Paul's epistles to the Corinthians: "I have planted, Apollos watered, but God gave the increase. So, then, neither is he that planteth anything, neither he that watereth, but God that giveth the increase. Now, he that planteth and he that watereth are one." In this connection the writer observes: "Here, apparently, everyone is supposed to have no separate existence whatever, except in God and through God."

The self, soul, or individuality, which continues after the dissolution of the body, has been broadly described as character or disposition; therefore, in using the term "self" in a Buddhistic sense, we must put aside every idea beyond what is conveyed to the mind by this interpretation. This character or disposition does not come to an end as an activity until "Tanha," or the thirst to live for living's sake, is extinct. Therefore, when Buddhistic thought is converted into conventional language, we must be cautious how we interpret such a statement as "We are saved by our individual merits." The "we" here means only "character," which, if improved during a lifetime, carries with it this improvement, of which a new being will reap the benefits.

Professor Rhys Davids calls the mystery of Karma "a desperate expedient, a wonderful hypothesis, an airy nothing, an imaginary cause beyond the reach of reason." But he previously states that it affords an explanation quite complete, to those who can believe it, of the apparent anomalies and wrongs in the distribution here of happiness and woe. So it may be said, also, of the mysteries attaching to Christianity. They satisfy the believer, though they present difficulties to the reasoner. According to the Christian formula, we are, as Burton says, fallen beings, not through our own fault; condemned to death, not through our own demerits; ransomed by a Divine Being, not through our own merits.

The Buddhist saying, "From birth came death," and the story of the Garden of Eden, seem to possess some figurative connection with the transition of micro-organisms from a fissiparous to a duogynous condition. The amoeba is endowed with the potentialities of eternal life; but when the spermatozoid and ovule (the symbolic serpent and apple) appeared on the scene, when the luminous Adam passed successively through the fissiparous and androgynous states, and finally became man and woman, death entered into the world.

The writer in the Monist already referred to, commenting upon the text, "Every man shall receive his own reward according to his own labour" (1 Cor. i. 5), says: "The coincidence of Buddhism and Christianity is remarkable in this passage; for, as the Buddhist Scriptures speak of the fruits of Karma, so Paul speaks of the rewards of one's labour."

Mr. Lillie, in referring to the doctrine of re-incarnation, quotes from an article in the Church Quarterly Review,[AE] in which, he says, "the author of the article, in proof of the existence of this doctrine, adduces the question put by the disciples of Christ in reference to the man born blind. And if it was considered that a man could be born blind as a punishment for sin, then it must have been plainly committed before his birth." In the White Lotus of Dharma there is an account of the healing of a blind man: "Because of the sinful conduct of the man (in a former birth) this malady has arisen." He also remarks that, in the case of the paralytic (Luke v. 18), the cure was effected, not by any physical processes, but by annulling the sins which were the cause of the malady.

The Rev. Mr. Spence Hardy, in his Manual of Buddhism, observes that "no one can tell but a Buddha how Karma operates or how the chain of existence commenced. It is as vain to ask in what part of the tree the fruit exists before the blossom is put forth as to ask for the locality of Karma." When the King of SÁgal inquired where Karma resides, its locality, Nagasena replied: "Karma is like a shadow that always accompanies the body. But it cannot be said that it is here, or that it is there; in this place, or in that place."

It has, I believe, been stated by some writers that it would have been as well if Gotama had not encumbered his teaching with such a complex and metaphysical theory as Karma, and had confined himself to the admirable moral precepts which form the real backbone of his system. It has been thought, too, that in introducing Karma into his scheme of things he was playing the rÔle of an opportunist, because he felt it to be necessary for the success of his mission that it should not be altogether severed in outline from such a conception as that of metempsychosis, which was deeply implanted in the minds of the Brahmanic philosophers of those times. Buddhism would certainly have been incomplete if it had not included mysteries, as Christianity would not be Christianity without an admixture of the indefinable.

"Karma," as "working," may, I think, be regarded as one of the essential components of Christian thought with regard to the soul. It is the working of the soul at the same time, the being-made-soul or disposition. As the latter it is heritable and appropriable; its effects are endless, and this "working" is carried on, so to speak, from generation to generation, organically and inorganically—in the rock, in the flower, and in all animal life—the same producing the same, and yet not the same.

The doctrine of Karma is justifiably proclaimed as the most important tenet of Buddhism, for on it depends the whole system of morality and of individual responsibility; and yet, strange to say, there is no part of Buddhism which has occasioned so much controversy and difference of opinion. It is at once the foundation of belief for millions of true believers and the basis of scepticism on the part of many who would otherwise willingly concur in the dogmas of this religion. In this respect it holds an analogous position to that of the doctrine of the resurrection of the body in the judgment of Christianity.

Is it possible, some ask, that a belief in the doctrine of Karma, which has exercised so enormous an influence for good over countless millions of human creatures—many of them men of the highest order of culture and intellectuality—should only be resolvable into an "airy nothing"? We may have to acknowledge that the reason is not able to follow the idea of Karma through all its phases, nor yet to assimilate the various postulates which it demands. But can Christianity boast of doctrines which are always reducible to the canons of reason and common sense? We think not.

Here, again, we find a common ground between these two religions. Neither is capable of being wholly defended by matter-of-fact methods; both demand a certain measure of faith from their adherents. The strength of the dogma of Karma lies rather in the fact that, like the ideas of free-will, heaven, and God, it is innate in a large portion of mankind; and it would be sheer presumption to dismiss with a few contemptuous phrases a belief which is deeply embedded in nearly one-half of the human race.

The seeming injustice of the unequal distribution of happiness and suffering among human beings is a problem which Christianity does not attempt to solve. Buddhism, on the other hand, grapples with the difficulty; and we have the much-debated doctrine of Karma as the result. There can be no doubt that this doctrine, once accepted, removes all difficulty out of the way. Karma is literally "action," or "doing." This action, after death, and during life too, bears fruit, for the consequences of action cannot be destroyed. It is, in fact, the scientific theory of the conservation of energy.

When the individual dies his Karma effects are re-incarnated, as it were, in another being, and form the connecting link between the two individuals—the one the author of the Karma effects, the other the inheritor of them. In this particular way we have a sufficient explanation and justification of moral retribution.

How this second individual comes into existence expressly for the purpose of inheriting the Karma of the first, and the nature and mode of the transmigration of Karma, are questions which have generally been placed beyond the scope of the human intellect, and will be considered later on.

A way out of this difficulty has been proposed, by which, while still adhering to the essentials of the doctrine of Karma, we can reduce it to a form more capable of being grasped and supported by our reason; but it has no authority among the utterances of Gotama, and, in accepting it, we should be diverging somewhat from orthodox Buddhism. Suppose we take as an analogy the case of a river, which, after flowing some hundreds of miles, is dried up by the heat of the sun. It is evident that the river, while flowing between its banks, has been absorbed in a great measure by the porous earth, and has gone to fructify the soil. The trees, grass, and crops which have been produced by its moisture are, of course, its Karma—the effects of its action, or "doing." When it has ceased to flow, the whole of its Karma has been dissipated into various effects, which, in their turn becoming causes, exercise their influence over practically the whole earth. There is no Karma, intact and integrated, which, according to some views of Buddhism, should be the raison d'Être of another river.

In the same way, an individual, while alive, scatters his Karma (or the influence of his character) among his surroundings. When he has ceased to live he has also ceased to act, and, consequently, there can be no more Karma. This is one way of getting rid of the idea of a lump of Karma, which after death, in some way or another, is supposed to produce, or to have produced, for it another body, into which it may carry the defects, virtues, vices, and follies of its originator. Another weakness which has been considered inseparable from the orthodox teaching of Buddhism is the fact that it seems to fail to account fully for the action of heredity. When two people have children, does it not appear right to think that their children should inherit their Karma? But it is obviously impossible that this should be the case, except in the unlikely contingency of both parents dying exactly at the moment of their children's birth. And, again, why should a man's Karma be embodied in an individual having no visible connection with his offspring; or how can we reconcile the non-existence of self-hood as a permanent entity with the recognition of a more or less self-sufficient Karma, which preserves its separateness not only through life, but after death, and into life again? These and other similar questions arise, and demand explanation from the bewildered brain.

These questions, it has been contended, do not arise as difficulties impossible of solution, if we consider the analogy given above. The children of two people are obviously their Karma, and they appropriate, so to speak, a very large proportion of the effects of their "doing"—as it is only just and reasonable that they should do. Innumerable actions on the part of the parents have led up to acquaintance and union, and the birth of the child is merely the climax of an endless chain of causes and effects.

But this process of reasoning closely borders on the confines of metempsychosis, in the phraseology of which the doctrine of Karma has often been mistakenly expounded. The doctrine of Karma is a modification of metempsychosis, and, as such, certainly stands on a more scientific and rational basis than its prototype.

In consequence of the intermixture of the two theories in the minds of exponents of Karma, much misapprehension has arisen, and this doctrine continues to be a stumbling-block to students of Buddhism. A considerable amount of confusion arises also, I think, from the fact that writers on Buddhism fail to discriminate between Karma, the law of Karma, and the effects of Karma, although the word Karma includes the two latter. It is a mistake to assume that Karma, interpreted as "thoughts, words, and actions," is perpetuated as such, for each thought, word, and action passes for ever away while it happens; each dies, yet each continues for all eternity in the effect it produces.

"The being of a past moment of thought has lived, but does not live, nor will it live."

"The being of a future moment of thought will live, but has not lived, nor does it live."

"The being of the present moment of thought will live, but has not lived, nor will it live."

It cannot be held, therefore, if we read Buddhism aright, that Karma in itself possesses continuity.

"The 'I' of to-day has to take all the consequences of the actions (Karma) which the 'I' of yesterday performed. Thus the individualized Karma of future times will reap all that which the individualizing Karma of the present time sows."[AF]

Professor Rhys Davids (Buddhism, p. 103) says: "Identity is preserved in that which alone remains when a man dies; in the result, namely, of his action, speech, and thought, in his good or evil Karma (literally his 'doing') which does not die." This statement would have gained in clearness if he had written "in the result of his good or evil Karma which does not die," in the concluding sentence.

If we allow ourselves to consider Karma, taken in the sense of "doing," as retaining a separateness apart from its diffusion of influences, and being carried on from generation to generation as an individualized compound, then we at once find ourselves in direct conflict with the doctrine of "inseparateness," which is the mainstay of the rationality of Buddhist thought, the basic concept of Buddhism.

If we understand by the SamskÂras that phase of a man's soul which is impressed upon other generations by heredity and education, and that which "is preserved by the law of Karma and conditions the continuity of man's existence in the whirl of constant changes," it must be exclusively in the sense that these SamskÂras are formative faculties peculiar to, and always to be found (in normal cases) in interconnection with, those temporary aggregations which present themselves to our perceptions as human beings, but which are not permanent.

It is only when the expressions "Karma" and "action" are used in their widest meaning, and include this formative faculty, that they can with propriety be regarded as possessing continuity, but not permanency. The particular formative faculty ceases to be, in those exceptional cases when "it directs itself to the cessation of all conformations."

This self-forming formative faculty, in its normal condition, is the cause of the continuity of being, or becoming. Its disappearance is happiness. We find this Buddhistic truth very clearly stated in the New Testament. "He who loses his life shall find it"—which, being interpreted, is "He who loses the formative faculty shall find the deathless."

Karma, as "thought, speech, and action," must be regarded as the ethical individuality, and the body as the corporeal individuality. As things in themselves they are both impermanent, but the effects of both are lasting. There are physiological and local as well as psychological results to be taken into account.

The body is continually shedding effects, and lives again after death in its diffused elements; so Karma gives off effects and lives again in its moral results; yet both these individualities are inseparably connected as long as the individual's life lasts.

The text so often quoted in this connection should, for purposes of Buddhistic exposition, read: "What a man sows, that will the race (not he) reap." "Herein is that saying true, one soweth and another reapeth" (John iv. 37).

What has been called physical or local Karma is applied to the effects of locality and climate upon the development of races and individuals.

A writer in the Journal of the Maha-Bodhi Society (November, 1898)[AG] says: "The theory of Karma, as Gautama formulated it, is all-embracing and comprehensive. It ranges over the whole field of life and morality. It ascribes causes for things; explains the working of the complicated machinery of the cosmos; abolishes the unwholesome idea of universal chaos and absence of motive power; substitutes in its place a definite and well-arranged system admirably suited to the needs of mankind; and finally establishes firmly the supreme importance of individual morality and responsibility. What more can one desire? 'All very well,' the sceptic replies. 'It may perform all you say it does, but I must be able to grasp it thoroughly and work it out in my own mind. I will take nothing for granted. I must be able to follow, to understand it, and harmonize it with facts of which I have certain knowledge. None of your vague insinuations for me.' I reply: How can you with your limited and finite empirical knowledge fully understand that which is limitless and infinite? The doctrine of Karma embraces all the greatest problems of life and the cosmos; and how can you, a mere atom in the universe, expect to grasp the whole? It is sufficient that you should have a working theory which fulfils your requirements, and is at the same time sanctioned by your reasoning power. More you cannot expect to have. The doctrine of Karma, in short, marches step by step with our reason. At no point does it break away from the laws of common sense. The difficulty lies in the fact that, while our reasoning at a certain point comes to a halt through lack of further material, the doctrine of Karma perseveres onwards into the spheres of higher knowledge whither our limited brain capacity cannot follow.

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"There are two methods by which the doctrine of Karma may be explained—viz., by individualization and by generalization; the former is the more orthodox and popular, the latter more sound and philosophical. But, although we find in the recorded sayings of Gautama support of the former and little or none of the latter, I think we may infer that his attitude was due to the exigencies of the conditions under which he lived and the ignorance of the masses who surrounded him. For the same reason Christ was forced to clothe his teachings in simple and primitive guise in order that they might be readily grasped by the popular mind. As an outcome of this necessity, we have the parables of the New Testament and much of the veiled language therein contained. To these are due in large measure the controversies and differences of opinion which now exist as to the proper interpretation of the words of Christ. The significance of many of Buddha's utterances has been similarly degraded. Countless 'birth stories' have sprung up to satisfy the popular craving for something concrete and simple in which to believe. Their themes have no real authority in Buddhistic teaching, but they serve the same purpose as do the Christian parables and myths. The student of Buddhism who stumbles upon them by chance may be led into false notions with regard to the religion, and accept as authoritative that which has no real authority. Herein lies their harm. That they are not strictly in accordance with Gautama's teachings there can be no doubt. The theory of soul-transmigration upon which these tales are chiefly founded is an excrescence on Buddhism, and should be regarded in the light of a heresy. As Professor Rhys Davids observes: 'Buddhism does not teach the transmigration of souls. Its doctrine would be better summarized as the transmigration of character.' Professor Oldenberg puts with much clearness the teaching of the action of transmigration and Karma when he says: 'Buddhism teaches: "My action is my possession, my action is my inheritance, my action is the womb which bears me, my action is the race to which I am akin." What appears to man to be his body is in truth the action of his past state, which, assuming a form realized through his endeavours, has become endowed with a tangible existence.'

"The same idea is expressed in a slightly different form by Dr. Paul Carus, who says: 'We ourselves continue in the accumulated results of our actions.' In these concise and seemingly simple statements we have the fundamental dogma of Buddhism and the foundation of Gautama's system as it has been handed down to us. When we come to analyze them carefully, the difficulties which at first lie hidden become apparent. We see that a man during his lifetime scatters the effects of his actions (i.e., his Karma) in all directions. Upon his death a new sentient being, 'realized through his endeavour,' comes into existence to inherit and carry on his Karma. These two beings are not connected in any way the one with the other. There has been no transmigration of soul or of the ego, for Buddhism denies the existence of either as a permanent entity, but describes them as temporary aggregations only. How, then, does moral retribution act? or how can we reconcile the non-existence of self as a permanent entity with the recognition of the existence of a more or less integral and permanent Karma which preserves its separateness, not only through life, but after death and into life again. How, too, is it possible that his Karma, although scattered in all directions during his term of life, at the moment of death is intact and whole for transmission to another body?

"Moreover, it is obvious that, if the death of one human being is the cause of the birth of another, the human race would not progress numerically. The very fact of the numerical increase of mankind defeats this theory and renders it untenable by all those who desire to believe only what their reason sanctions, and to eschew whatever demands the acceptance of authority or the exercise of faith. In short, as Professor Rhys Davids has put it, the weakness of the Buddhistic conception is that 'the result of what a man is, or does, is held not to be dissipated ... but to be concentrated together in the formation of one new sentient being.'

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"By digressing somewhat from strict Buddhistic teaching, and leaving behind the letter (not the spirit) of the law, we can, I think, arrive at a more satisfactory explanation by a method I have called 'generalization,' in contradistinction to the method just dealt with—viz., Individualization.

"According to the orthodox conception, an individual takes up the Karma of another while it is intact and has not suffered from distribution and dispersion. But there is a broader and less primitive, albeit more heterodox, manner in which we may regard the doctrine, and one which, I think, we may infer was in the mind of Gotama himself when he enunciated the narrower conception in order to simplify it sufficiently to be capable of being grasped by the ignorant. Instead of a man's Karma being individualized—i.e., handed on in an integral state from individual to individual—we should regard it rather as having been generalized and disintegrated during life, leaving no residuum at death. Thus, what is inherited at birth is not the Karma of any one person, but rather the Karma of the race as a whole. 'The souls of men continue to exist as they are impressed upon other generations by heredity and education,'[AH] but the soul of the individual does not continue to exist. It is the soul of the race, not of the individual, which is perpetuated.

"The Karmas of all are, as it were, cast into the mixing-pot and thoroughly sifted, and then, and not till then, embodied in different forms. Seeming inequality of division must be accounted for by the action of local Karma.[AI] There is obviously an advantage associated with this theory not applicable to the theory of individualization. Whereas the latter tends to promote the fallacious idea of personality and self-hood, the former has a wider significance, and tends rather to promote the belief in universal brotherhood by merging personalities into one great whole. It is, in fact, more truly Buddhistic, and, by inspiring a more cosmopolitan sentiment of fellowship, is calculated to overcome, in a great degree, that fallacy most difficult of all fallacies to overcome—the idea of the ego as a permanent entity. The difficulty, also, which is universally felt of accounting for the birth of a new sentient being at every death is by this means obviated....

"Most assuredly we require an explanation of our present condition, and we must accord all honour to Buddhism for having afforded us one both rational and satisfactory. When men come to see and to realize that by every deed committed, and by every word uttered, they are carving out, for evil or good, the future of the race, and that the suffering they now endure they owe entirely to the past sins of humanity, their sense of responsibility will be increased, their hold upon morality strengthened, the bond of unity, 'the brotherhood of man,' confirmed. Abolish the fallacy of cosmic chaos; substitute in its stead the idea of a definite system and purpose; show that man is the only framer of his destiny, the only author of his existence, the only cause of his own suffering—and the foundation of morality will be made sure, the redemption of the race brought within measurable distance. This is the end for which the doctrine of Karma was formulated, and to this end it has been labouring, a silent but progressive force, for many centuries."

The Rev. T. Sterling Berry, D.D., in his Comparative Study of Christianity and Buddhism, treats the latter as a whole in a spirit of commendable catholicity; but when he comes to points of contrast he fails signally to preserve equanimity of judgment, and distorts the import of Gotama's precepts in the most amazing fashion in his endeavour to bring them into opposition to the teaching of Jesus. His view of Karma, however, is, I think, a valuable contribution to the literature on the subject, and worthy of reproduction. He writes: "Strange and well nigh unintelligible as this theory seems, it is nevertheless possible, I believe, to get at the real thought that moulded Gotama's conception—actions of every kind as possessing the nature of seed sown; men were found, to some extent, to reap the consequences of their actions during their lifetime; but this takes place only in a limited and incomplete sense during the existence to which the actions belong. At the close of a life many acts remain like seed sown, but not yet grown up. Hence the theory that when a man dies he leaves the sum-total of the acts of his life as a kind of complex seed, made up of good and bad elements, which, by his death, springs up into a fresh existence, the same and yet not the same; in somewhat of the sense in which it might be said that ordinary seed which springs up as identical and yet not identical with that which is sown. Viewed in this light, the theory loses its apparent absurdity. It becomes, in fact, a mode of expressing partly what we understand by the law of heredity, which involves a transference of character and a reproduction of the consequences of action; and partly the law of retribution, that 'Whatsoever a man soweth that shall he also reap.'"

The continuance of an individual's Karma, conceived as the effects of a man's character upon individuals whom he influences, is a perfectly thinkable process, and a generally accepted fact. But, when we are called upon to consider how it comes about that, on the death of a sentient being, a new sentient being is at once produced, to take up the effects of the deceased one's Karma, then we seem to be launched into a mystery that can only be explained by another mystery.

If such a doctrine is to be interpreted literally, it would seem to necessitate a numerical equality of births and deaths; a new-born babe would have to be ready at each death to receive the Karma-effects of the deceased. It might, however, be made faintly thinkable by including available births in other solar systems, and by allowing for a certain number of Karmas coming to an end by the attainment of Nirvana. This planet is held by Buddhists to be in sympathetic relationship with the other worlds, and there are countless millions of beings who change places. A number of men die somewhere on this earth, and they may not be re-born here at all; a number of beings die in some other planet, and may be re-born here at the same time.

This particular phase of the doctrine of Karma has been so distinctly enunciated in Buddhist writings that it becomes a question for the interpreter of Buddhism to decide whether it should be retained as a literal statement, and so dismissed as an unthinkable, or whether it should be given the chance of being classified as rational by expansive treatment.

Buddhism is so systematically and eminently rationalistic throughout its teaching that one feels impelled to a supreme effort to sustain its reputation in this one respect. In any case it would seem just to assume that it had a rationalistic basis in the mind of Gotama, however difficult it may be for us to discover the foundation of Rationalism on which it rests. An apparently irrational theory should not be rejected as irrational as long as it is within the bounds of possibility that the apparent irrationality is due to the limitations of our reason, or the absence of data, that have not come under our experience and knowledge of Cosmic laws. Everything may be contrary to what we think it to be; and everything may be opinion only.

As some beautiful poems cannot be thought out in connection with one's immediate environment without a loss of poetic value, but require mental transposition to a distant and different scene for their beauty to be fully and poetically realized, so, unless we remove our imagination from its every-day associations to an entirely different "scenery" of thought, we cannot expect to intelligently appreciate the complete significance of Buddhistic conceptions. As Professor Oldenberg puts it, we must, when approaching the study of Buddhism, divest ourselves wholly of all customary modes of thinking.

Buddhism lays stress everywhere upon the connectiveness of everything with everything; and everything is, at all times, something other than itself. Consciousness (VinnÂna), for instance, is described as "that which enters into the womb, and from which arise name and corporeal form"; yet consciousness and name and corporeal form have no individual existence.

"Body, perceptions, and sensations vanish, but not conscience; but consciousness only exists as long as it is connected with name and corporeal form. Consciousness, however, is not essentially different from perceptions and sensations; it is also a SamskÂra, and, like all other SamskÂras, it is changeable, and without substance."[AJ]

Consciousness has been described as the director of the organs, and, in this sense, vaguely assumes the place of an ego. Consciousness, as a "highly-developed and insubstantial product of the brain," possesses the faculty of acting in the manner of choice; it is derived from conformations, and conformations from ignorance.

There is a continuance of soul-forms after the death of an individual—that is, of the impressions caused by the character of an individual. This is the preservation of form by means of Karma (deeds). Obviously these soul-forms cannot continue unless there is an individual to receive the impression. Therefore, when it is said that, immediately upon the death of a sentient being, another sentient being is produced to receive the effects of the deceased's Karma, the statement may have been only intended to imply that for the continuance of soul-forms there must always be sentient beings to receive their impressions.

It does not seem necessary to suppose that on A's death B takes up the whole of A's Karma. The effects of A's Karma have been impressed, more or less, on all those who have come in his lifetime, and will come after his death, within range of his influence. In the latter case the influence is continued in the effects of his writings, speech, or other actions.

An individual during his lifetime will be impressed with the effects of the Karma of many individuals, and has to take the consequences, whether good or bad, with power of adding to or modifying the received effects. "The same character of deeds reappears wherever his deeds have impressed themselves on other minds."

The subject of Karma becomes hopelessly complicated if such a statement as the following is taken literally: "Buddhism is convinced that, if a man reaps sorrow, disappointment, pain, he himself, and no other, must at some time have sown folly, error, sin; if not in this life, then in some former birth." The language here employed is liable, unless the reader is on his guard, to take him back to the heresy of Metempsychosis, which Buddhism arose to destroy.

It perhaps needs reiteration that the "He Himself" in a former birth is not even the deeds of a different set of Skandhas—of a body of different constituent parts. The "He Himself" is only the effects of deeds done by a constantly becoming and constantly vanishing set of Skandhas, the particles of the human tornado which assume temporary form. The effects received become the "He Himself"; herein is the retributive phase of the doctrine of Karma.

The effects of Karma on their passage through preceding births on to future births are the only existent and continuing "I." A, who has received good influences from B, bad from C, and indifferent from D, has lived before, in a Buddhistic sense, in B, C, and D.

Buddhistic birth stories should, I think, be read in this light. When A performs an action similar to one performed centuries ago by B, it is to be understood that the effects of that particular action in B have reached A through many intervening lives in either a modified or unmodified form. Other actions of A which had not been performed by B must be traced back in their effects to C, D, E, etc. A has only lived as B by virtue of the effects of particular and similar acts reaching him through the law of cause and effect.

"Within the sphere of causality we can all exclaim with Jesus: 'Before Abraham was I am.'"

There is yet another direction in which we may look for a solution of the problem. Life or being is frequently compared in Buddhistic expositions to a flame which is the same, and yet not the same, from the time it is lighted to the time of its extinction. Each moment of being passes away as, simultaneously or concurrently, a moment of being commences; and in this sense, on the death of a being, another being is simultaneously produced, until being comes to an end with death, as the flame expires at the moment of extinction.

This view agrees with that part of Buddhistic philosophy which asserts that nothing survives being except the effects of being; "being," in this connection, being taken as the entire life-history of an organism, whether animal or vegetable, and as the existence of a flame from its inception to its extinction.

The working of the law of Karma has been found so intricate that many Buddhists have relegated it to the category of Unthinkables. They regard it as such that it can only be understood by those who have attained to the "intellectus mysticus." The one thing considered requisite for the comprehension of its complexities is to solve the problem of the Four Noble Truths by following the Noble Eight-fold Path. A study of Buddha's psychology, they contend, is absolutely necessary to the disciple who wishes to know the processes of the ever-changing consciousness. The mind in itself is pure, but by coming into contact with impurities such as anger, harbouring of anger, selfishness, etc., it is soiled.

The practical psychology of Buddhism is based on ethics, and the student has to cut off all the impurities from the mind to enable him to properly comprehend the Nirvanic condition. So long as one thinks of self, so long is he re-born. Unless self is absolutely surrendered, unless "Thou hast lost thyself to save thyself, as Galahad,"[AK] Karma continues; and that means ignorance; and ignorance can have no vision of the Holy Grail, fails to reach Nirvana, unites not with God!

There is no cessation in the continuous flow of thought between one life and another until Nirvana is reached. The "being" born in another life is absolutely not the same that died here, nor absolutely another; but is the result of the one. "My substance was hid when I was made in secret, and curiously wrought in the lowest parts of the earth."

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