Perhaps there are some who will
object to the title of this paper and say there can be no such thing as
Spiritual culture for Spirit is perfect on its own plane. That there are some qualities
that we call spiritual that manifest themselves in our lives will not be
disputed, I think.
St. Paul calls these qualities "Fruits of the Spirit," and he enumerates
some of them, as, "love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness,
faithfulness, meekness, self-control," and he urges the culture of these
Spiritual qualities, for in no one of us is their expression perfect. This is
what I mean by Spiritual Culture. Let us bear in mind, however, that we are continually
using words of which we cannot give the exact meaning, for words are not things
but pictures of things, and as there can be no perfect picture of anything, so
there can be no perfect embodiment of truth in material letters.
Colors, even in the hand of a
genius, are powerless to give us a perfect picture of a man or a child, so
letters fail to tell perfectly what the soul thinks. The painter can depict a
log or a stone far more perfectly than he can give us a Christ or a Madonna. So
in language we catch the meaning of common things, but when we try to express
the great things of the Soul, the sounds of vowels and consonant, like the
colors of the artists, refuse to do full duty.
The glory and beauty of the word
"Spirit" is that, while its final meaning evades us, it still exhales
some fragrant qualities of itself, and Spiritual Culture is so living and acting
that more and more of these qualities may manifest themselves in our lives.
Spiritual Culture is the culture of the highest in us, for Spirit stands for
the divine in man.
The love of food and drink, of
riches and war does not spring from this divine essence in man, but the love of
truth and honor, of benevolence and beauty does, and the culture of these loves
is Spiritual Culture. The greater part of the language of the street, the shop and
the farm is about the instrument used by the spirit, but when we leave these
and come into the presence of the poet and the philosopher, or enter the
solitude of the worshipper, another language is spoken, for we are now dwelling
among the highest things.
When a man lifts himself above
the appetites of the flesh and deals in the pure and the beautiful, he has
entered the lofty realm of the Spirit. Into this realm entered Plato studying
eternal beauty, and Confucius reaching up to the highest, as well as Joseph of
Arimathea coming to a tomb to embalm the body of a Master he so deeply reverenced.
So, too, Thomas a Kempis, standing in an unclouded world, was conscious only of
Immortality.
All the questions that vexed the
church and made food for ambition and strife were far down in the noisy vale
beneath the dreamer's feet. All local and temporary dogmas and disputations are
left out of his book and only the voice of the spirit is heard there. John Bunyan
was of the same school and his Pilgrim's Progress lifts us out of the realm of the
dry catechism into a world of feeling and beauty.
The Wicket Gate, the Delectable
Mountains, the House Beautiful, the Valley of Humiliation are all great visions
that take us away from quarrel some intellects and lift us into the realm of
the spirit. To these names we may add many others such as Fenelon, Madam Guyon,
George Fox, and a noble host of poets for whom, and by whom life was
transfigured.
Great religious leaders have not
always been noted for spiritual culture. Calvin was marked by a strong and
analytical mind, but he offended half the world by his strong affirmations and
denials. The same is true of Luther, of Jonathan Edwards and others. They were
all great and useful men in the field of temporary battle rather than in the
field of perpetual peace. Calvin was made great like William of Orange and the
Duke of Wellington by battling against the foes of the human race.
The makers of creeds and builders
of systems generally stir up hatred and strife, while men of spiritual culture
are makers of peace, moving in an atmosphere of love, lifted above all these
little local questions, and like the sun pouring light on the evil and the
good.
The man who mixes paints or tunes
a musical instrument can never merit the praise or love given by society to one
who paints the picture or makes the organ lift us into the third heaven. So in
religion the dealers in creeds and forms can never equal in goodness or
divineness those who reveal to mankind the religion of the soul. The
literalists and sectarians are only mixers of paints which they cannot use, or
custodians of ideas as a slave might be of a casket of jewels or a box of gold
coin.
Bunyan was happy in gaol; Fenelon
was joyful in exile; Madam Guyon gave away her fortune to the poor — because
spiritual culture had lifted them into an atmosphere where riches and honor and
gratifications of the lower desires became small and insignificant, and earth
itself great, only as the home of the soul. When the spirit rules, the clamor
of gold and office, and appetite is silenced, their lurid and fatal eloquence has
no longer any charm. The feet are lifted above the street and placed on a
mountain full of God's angels; as one of our great poets has said, "On
every height there lies repose."
It is not the repose of sleep or
an easy existence of inaction, but a repose that comes from the sublimity of
the landscape and the purity of the air. The heights are everywhere and voices
are ever calling us to "Go up higher."
In classifying physical beauty we
make distinctions between a violet and an oak, between a cascade with its
murmur and mist and a cathedral with its spires and arches; between a trailing
vine and a range of mountains. With our change of feeling we change our words
and to the rose we say beautiful, to the oak, grand; to the violet, pretty; and
to the mountain, sublime.
So while humanity is one, we
divide its attractiveness into many parts and say of some, they are witty; of
some, pretty ; of others, beautiful ; and of still others, learned; but while
the heart is filled with admiration for these it sees still another class rising
above all these grades of moral and mental greatness, and we do not speak of
this as beautiful but as sublime. In this group we see men and women of all
ages.
Wealth is here a mere accident whose
presence or absence counts for nothing, for Jesus and Zeno were poor, Marcus
Aurelius was rich. Personal appearance goes for nothing for Socrates and Saint Paul
were both without charm of face or form. Ancestry is nothing, for Victoria was
born to be a Queen and Epictetus a slave. Differences of creed are excluded, for Thomas
a Kempis was a Romanist, George Fox a Protestant and Abraham Lincoln an
eclectic. We may be neither rich nor beautiful, neither witty nor learned, but
we may hear the voice calling us to the heights.
Does Theosophy give us any help, any guidance in reaching these lofty
heights?
Does it give any directions for the culture of the spiritual powers?
It surely does, for that is its
main reason for being. To help man to know himself, to master himself, to
unfold his divine powers, and to help forward the evolution of humanity is the
great work to which the Masters have devoted themselves, and the Theosophical
Society is one of their schools of Spiritual Culture. The central and
fundamental principle of the Theosophical Society is Universal Brotherhood
based on the "spiritual identity of all souls with the Oversoul."
And it makes this proclamation:
« To all men and women of
whatever caste, creed, race, or religious belief, who aim at the fostering of peace,
gentleness, and unselfish regard for another, and the acquisition of such
knowledge of men and nature as shall tend to the elevation and advancement of
the human race, it sends most friendly greeting and freely proffers its services.
It joins hands with all religions and religious bodies whose efforts are
directed to the purification of men's thoughts and the bettering of their ways,
and it avows its harmony therewith.
To all scientific societies and
individual searchers after wisdom upon whatever plane, and by whatever
righteous means pursued, it is and will be grateful for such discovery and
unfoldment of Truth as shall serve to announce and confirm a scientific basis for
ethics. And lastly it invites to membership those who, seeking a higher life hereafter,
would learn to know the path to tread in this. »
"Knowledge is power,"
and the Theosophical Society is constantly seeking to impart to its members
knowledge that will answer questions of most profound and vital interest, such
as:
How did we come here?
What have been the stages of progress through which we have passed?
And what is our future destiny?
The doctrines of Reincarnation
and Karma are keys that unlock many of the mysteries of human history and progress,
and the revelation of the sevenfold nature of man, and the seven planes of
being throws a flood of light on the nature of man, the uses of each part and
the best methods of culture and development.
The New Testament makes man a
trinity (body, soul, and spirit) but Theosophy makes a finer analysis into
seven parts, putting the physical at the bottom and the spiritual at the top as
the New Testament does, showing us how to subordinate the lower to the higher,
and urging us to make the spiritual supreme.
In order that the spiritual may
become supreme the whole lower nature must be brought into tune, just as a
piano must be tuned in every string before it can respond with perfect harmony
to the hand of the master player.
Theosophy having explained the
body to us has given us the best methods of physical culture — a culture that
will enable the soul to use it as an instrument and a medium for expressing
itself. There must also be a wise and careful training of the intellect, and
Theosophy shows us how to train it so that it will be subservient to the forces
of the soul.*
(* See Theosophical Quarterly,
October, 1909, page 177 and January, 1910, page 279.)
The intellect must never be
master but always the servant of the spirit. For those who earnestly desire to
unfold their spiritual powers so that they may the better serve their fellow
men there are four books, each of which is unique, and all of them helpful (and
in my opinion necessary) to guide our feet into the path and keep us in it.
First of these I put Light on the Path, whose sub-title
reads, "A treatise written for the personal use of those who are ignorant
of the Eastern Wisdom, and who desire to enter within its influence." In many ways it is the most remarkable book
the Masters have given us.
The second of these is The Voice of the Silence, translated by
our great Teacher, H. P. Blavatsky from a very ancient text book called The Book of Golden Precepts. The book as
we have it is made up of three "Fragments," I. The
Voice of the Silence; II. The Two
Paths; III. The Seven Portals,
the whole of it being rich in spiritual instruction, and is the daily text-book
of thousands of theosophists who find it indispensable for spiritual culture.
The third of these books is the Bhagavad Gita, which means, we are told,
"The songs of the Master." There
are many editions and translations of this remarkable poem but the one I have
found most helpful is Mr. Charles Johnston's translation with commentary, first
published in the Theosophical Quarterly,
but now for sale by our Secretary, in a handy volume.
The fourth book I put last because
last published, but so far as spiritual helpfulness goes I have found Fragments
by Cave much more inspiring than the Bhagavad
Gita. It is a never failing fountain of inspiration, and when at home I
want it always within reach, and when I go away I would rather leave behind my
New Testament than the Fragments.
Take sentences like these:
« It is not what you say and do,
but what you are that tells, and that will leave its ineffaceable mark upon
each character you meet as upon all time. The soul desires to express itself in
its reflection, your life. So live that it may do so. So think and act that you
may become a channel for higher things to descend to the lower planes. Meditate
on things you want to know. Seek all knowledge within yourself, do not go
without. You understand what is meant by this; not that books should be
neglected, but that information obtained from them should be drawn within,
sifted, tested there. Study all things in this light and the most physical will
at the same time lead to the most spiritual knowledge. »
(pp. 42, 43)
On every page there are messages
as stimulating as this, and something suited to all moods whether of sadness or
joy.
If after a year or more of
diligent study of theosophical teachings any soul sincerely and earnestly desires
to consecrate itself more fully to spiritual living it may knock, and the door
of the Inner School will open.
There he will find new teachers
and new opportunities — a new world; he will find new trials through which he
will learn new lessons, and if faithful may come to a fullness of realization
of which he has no conception now; he will find new power and new strength to
rise above the mists and confusions of the lower life.
Some things that he now takes on
trust he will come to know and will be so filled with wonder, reverence, and
gratitude that he will want to say with the Patriarch Job, "I have heard of
thee with the hearing of the ear; but now mine eye seeth thee, wherefore I
abhor myself and repent."
In short, we find in Theosophy a
guide to a spiritual culture that makes life broad, generous and beautiful,
setting us free from the little and making us partakers of the Life Immortal.
JOHN SCHOFIELD.
(Theosophical Quarterly, Abril
1910, vol. 7, p.375-379)
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