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Science and Wisdom-Compassion It has surprised me that so many people who are convinced of the
universal and objective nature of scientific knowledge work so diligently to
find in the latest discoveries of the sciences an exclusive vindication of
statements in the Vedas or in the Qur’an or of dogmas accepted by the Church
Councils at some stage in history. That we are Hindus or Jews or Christians
largely depends on where we happened to have been born. It is extremely
difficult to believe that truth suddenly changes across a border defined by a
river or a mountain range which correspond to political boundaries of past or
present empires. I do not have any rigorous data about this, but I imagine that
easily 95% or even more people in the world, sooner or later—especially at the
time of marriages or funerals—revert to the religion which they inherited from
their forefathers, with minor variations on the theme. This is quite
understandable for, just like the ordinary languages, much of our
emotional-religious language is acquired in early childhood and we make sense of
the deeper religious aspirations with the aid of these acquired categories of
feeling and thought. It is very likely that people who vehemently adhere to one
creed or dogma would equally vehemently adhere to another if they had been born
in another religious context. The recognition that others exist, as thinking,
feeling and autonomous beings, sometimes engaged with ultimate concerns, is a
step towards freedom from self-occupation and self-importance, a step of crucial
import in spiritual awakening. Attuning to the spiritual dimension surely is attuning to a quality of
vibration, not exclusively to a particular form of the instrument producing the
vibration. It has not been easy for some to accept that one can have a
transfusion of blood from those whose skin colour is different from their own.
It is much harder to allow the possibility of spiritual nourishment underneath
religious and racial skins. In my own case, I was born a Hindu. There is much
that is good and wise in the Hindu Tradition. I am certain I could have been
dealt a worse heritage. But the Hindus do not have and cannot have a monopoly on
Truth or Wisdom or Insight. One wishes to and strives to grow up, a part of
which is to develop a connection with a level of consciousness in which, as the
great twentieth-century Indian sage Maharshi Ramana said, “There are no
others.” This is not an elimination of others in self-occupation, but seeing
through the ‘otherness’ in a unitive perception. It will sadden me if I am
merely a Hindu at my death, restricted to my own selfhood defined by
contingencies of history or geography. The past is always with us and in us, but
future vision needs to be based on some ability to fly with freedom from the
past. “Sir,”
answered
the woman, “I can see you are a prophet. Our ancestors worshipped on this
mountain, but you people claim that Jerusalem is the place where men ought to
worship God.” Jesus told her, “Believe me, woman, an hour is coming when you
will worship the Father neither on this mountain nor in Jerusalem… Yet an hour
is coming, and is already here, when those who are real worshippers will worship
the Father in Spirit and truth. Indeed, it is just such worshippers the Father
seeks. God is Spirit, and those who worship Him must worship in Spirit and
truth.” (John 4: 19-24) In spiritual matters what is most relevant is how the quality of the
person is affected by whatever theology, philosophy or ritual one finds helpful.
The person cannot be left out of these concerns, neither oneself nor others.
Interfaith dialogues are good and possibly helpful; inter-pilgrim dialogues are
likely to be much more fruitful. We need to be careful not to fix these faiths
and the faithful in them. Surely the important thing is to see and to relate
with the person behind the faith. It is not they are Jews and we are Jains; it
is more that some of us have a Jewish background and heritage and some others of
us have a Jain formation. At our best, we would wish to be related to the
Ultimate or to God, who, all our sages say, is neither Jewish nor Jain. If we
are permanently restricted to relate to each other only as a Hindu to a
Christian, and not as a person to a person, I wonder if we can ever relate as a
person to the Person. As and when religions do their job of insisting on the primacy of the
person over any system—theological, metaphysical, economic or political—they
are naturally occupied with cultivation of wise and compassionate people. When
such people engage in science, or any other activity, they are naturally
concerned for the welfare of all beings, including the earth—not only as
generalizations, but also in concrete relationships. As we draw inspiration and
instruction from the wise sages and prophets of the past, we shall not be
occupied with only our personal salvation, but also for the enlightenment of
those who will welcome the dawn with song when we are no longer here. The
development of a comprehensive person, one who is closer and closer to the First
Person Universal, less ‘I am this’ or ‘I am that’ and more as ‘I
AM,’ is a calling of all religions, so that we can awaken from the dead, as
St. Paul beautifully said (Ephesians 4: 13), to “mature manhood, measured by
nothing less than the full stature of Christ.” As between different religions, so between religion and science. We need
to search for the best aspirations and the most universal truths of both. There
is a remark of Einstein that “Science without religion is lame, religion
without science is blind.”[1]
This sounds so congenial and heart-warming that one is inclined to accept it
with enthusiasm. But a look at this and a parallel remark of Ishvarakrishna in
the Samkhyakarika from the second century B.C. reveals some quite
interesting contrasts between the Eastern and Western perspectives on knowledge
and science. In speaking about Purusha and Prakriti—which we may translate as
Spirit and Nature—Ishvarakrishna says, “Purusha without Prakriti is lame,
Prakriti without Purusha is blind.” The two statements are so widely separated in time, space and
cultures—and so clearly from independent and seminal minds—that we should
celebrate the happy similarity. But if we look at the two statements closely, we
shall discover a whole world of difference. Whatever else we understand by the
metaphors of ‘blind’ and ‘lame,’ we certainly associate insight,
clarity, light, illumination with the opposite of being blind. All the great
teachers say, in one way or another, that we have eyes but we do not see, and
that we have ears but we do not hear. To see clearly is a mark of wisdom.
Being lame, on the other hand, implies inability to act, lack of will,
incapacity, lack of movement and of involvement. Therefore we can understand Einstein to say that vision—insight,
wisdom, clarity, illumination—comes from science, but motivation, action, will
and emotion come from religion. For Ishvarakrishna, on the other hand, insight (prajna),
knowledge (jnana), wisdom and enlightenment (bodhi) belong to
Purusha. Action, movement and emotion, the whole realm of gross and subtle
nature, belong to Prakriti. We would all agree, including Einstein if he were here and willing to
engage with us using the same language, that the whole realm of science has to
do with Prakriti, which literally means ‘Nature,’ which is what the natural
sciences try to study. Religion, on the other hand, is understood to deal with
the Spirit and with what is supernatural. This raises some interesting questions
about what we understand by science and by religion and of our expectations of
these two, and about the contrasts in the views of the East and of the West. How do we reconcile these two similar sounding statements from two very
great minds? A paradox can lead us to conclude that only one side must be right
and the other wrong. This kind of conclusion may be warranted in matters
involving ordinary contradictions; but a profound paradox does not provide a
contradiction to be removed by choosing one side or the other. Such paradoxes
often remind us about the limitations of language, logic and thought when it
concerns really important things. Niels Bohr used to say that the opposite of a
great truth is another very great truth. In the East, the basic diagnosis of the human situation is that our whole
predicament arises from ignorance (avidya). The root cause of all our
difficulties is ignorance. From that arises, according to Vedanta, the confusion
between the Self and the non-Self, or between nitya (eternal) and anitya
(transient) and a clinging to the world of anitya. Thus arise fear and
fantasy and dukkha (suffering), maya (illusion), asmita
(egoism). Gautama Buddha, Shankara, Patanjali and all other great teachers of
India have regarded the root of all our problems to be ignorance. If we know
rightly, right action will naturally follow. If insight leads to and controls
action and guides it, then there is right order—both internally and
externally. In other words, when Purusha—consciousness, spirit, seeing (which
is the sole function of Purusha the Seer, according to Patanjali)—sees and
leads Prakriti, there is awakening, enlightenment, freedom, moksha, nirvana,
and the like. Otherwise, a person is bound by dukkha, maya, asmita
and kleshas (obstacles). In the Western Biblical religions, the situation
is quite different. The basic human problem is not regarded to be ignorance, but
rather self-will. In general, from the Biblical point of view, to say that we
are waiting to engage in right action until we know rightly is mere
self-justification. God has revealed what needs to be known; we know what the
right action is. Our problem is that we do not want to obey the commandments and
undertake right action. We want to follow and act according to our own
self-will, rather than God’s will. “Nothing burneth in hell except
self-will,” says Theologia Germanica (chapt. 34). The whole choice-less
agony of the cross—the way of the Christ—is in his last words in the Garden
of Gethsamane: “If it is possible, let this cup pass me by. Yet, not my will,
but thine be done.” (Mark 14: 36) In the East, in order to remedy the general human situation, the need is
for true knowledge, because right knowledge leads to right action. In the West,
the need is for right action—in obedience to the will of God; that is the
definition of faith according to St. Paul—for right action leads to right
knowledge. When Vivekananda speaks of bringing science and religion together,
for him, unlike for Einstein, science has to do with the dimension of action,
and yoga with that of true perception and insight. At least on this score Einstein very much belongs to the Biblical
Tradition and it is not surprising that he should place religion on the side of
action, movement, motivation and the like. Insight for him belongs on the side
of science, a study of the dance of Prakriti, and itself is a part of Prakriti.
For Ishvarakrishna, insight is obtained through the practical spiritual
discipline of yoga. Following the usual practice, we can extend the usage
of yoga to include any spiritual path, which can happily include science
as a spiritual path for those who undertake it with that motivation. Then one
would say that in science and spirituality we have two different kinds of
knowledge or insight, not knowledge on one side and faith on the other, except
in a quite esoteric sense of faith, which is subtle and worthy. There is one
kind of knowledge in the sciences and another kind in spiritual disciplines,
such as Yoga, Sufism, Zen, or Prayer of the Heart. However, the nature of
insight, of knowledge and of the related perceptions in the domain of science is
quite different from that in the realm of spirituality. One can take examples
from the actual practice of science and the practice of spirituality; but these
cannot be pursued here in detail.[2] The purpose of all spiritual disciplines—which are not the same as
religions—is to relate us with the spiritual (which is to say non-prakriti,
non-material, including subtle material) dimensions. This tuning into the
subtler dimensions is possible only by cleansing our ordinary perceptions, and
by quieting the mind. The requirement of meditation, as well as of any serious
prayer, is to be present with stillness and a silence of the body, mind and the
emotions, so that one might hear a rose petal fall, the sound of the thoughts
arising, and the silence between thoughts. The arising of thoughts and emotions
is a part of the play of Prakriti, and watching this play with complete
equanimity, without being disturbed, belongs to Purusha. Without the presence of
the seeing Purusha, Prakriti is blind, lost in agitated movement and action; but
Purusha needs Prakriti for purposive activity. Alert without agitation, a
centred-self without being self-centred, a sage does nothing, nothing of his own
or for himself, but everything is accomplished. As Christ said, “I am not
myself the source of the words I speak: it is the Father who dwells in me doing
His own work.” (John 14: 10) Elsewhere, the scripture says, “The Lord shall
fight for you; what you need is to be still.” (Exodus 14: 14) The core of all spiritual practice is freedom from the selfish, isolated
and isolating ego, so that one can see more and more clearly and be related with
all more and more lovingly and selflessly. There can be no significance to
insight, wisdom or truth unless it expresses itself in love and compassion. The
sages in all the great traditions have said, in myriad ways, that Love is a
fundamental quality of the Cosmos. Not only a quality, but a basic constituent
of Ultimate Reality. The Rig Veda (X, 129.4) says, “In the Beginning
arose Love.” And the New Testament affirms: “God is love, and he who abides
in love abides in God, and God in him.” (1 John 4: 16) The search for this
great Love at the very heart of the Cosmos is both the beginning and the end of
the spiritual paths, expressed as service, mercy, compassion and, ultimately, as
oneness with all other beings. In the very last canto of the Paradisio in the Divine
Comedy Dante expresses his vision of the highest heaven: There
my will and desire Were
one with Love; The
love that moves The
sun and the other stars. The great traditions, in wondrously different ways, have maintained that
the Highest Reality—variously labelled ‘God,’ ‘First principle,’
‘Original Mind,’ Brahman (literally, The Vastness) or simply ‘That’—is
Truth and is Love. In our own days, Mahatma Gandhi maintained, almost like a
practical spiritual equation, less to be preached and more to be lived, that God
= Truth = Love. Theologia Germanica (chapter 31) says, “As God is
simple goodness, inner knowledge and light, he is at the same time also our
will, love, righteousness and truth, the innermost of all virtues.” The realization of this truth, vouchsafed to the most insightful sages in
all lands and cultures, is not something that can be abstracted, bracketed or
packaged. This insight needs to be continually regained, lived and celebrated.
Only when and wherever this realization is made concrete, is there an abundant
life of the Spirit. Spiritual disciplines are all concerned with integration and
wholeness—above all with the integration of Truth and Love. Love is required
to know Truth, and knowledge of Truth is expressed by love. “The knower of
truth loves me ardently,” says Krishna in the Bhagavad Gita (7: 17),
but also, “Only through constant love can I be known and seen as I really am,
and entered into.” (11: 54) I believe it was Meister Eckhart who said, “What
we receive in contemplation, we give out in love.” A more contemporary remark
is by Archimandrite Vasileios of Mount Athos: “For if our truth is not
revealed in love, then it is false. And if our love does not flow from the
truth, then it is not lasting.”[3] Of course, the search for Love can become merely a personal wish for
comfort and security, just as the search for Truth can become largely a
technological manipulation of nature in the service of the military or of
industry—of fear and greed. Whenever truth and love are separated from each
other, the result is sentimentality or dry intellectualism in which power is
divorced from compassion. Partiality always carries seeds of violence and fear
in it. Thus in the name of ‘our loving God’ many people have been killed,
and many destructive weapons have been developed by a commitment to ‘pure
knowledge.’ But such is not the best of humanity—in the science or in
religion. Integrated human beings in every culture and in every age have
searched for both Truth and Love, insight and responsibility, wisdom and
compassion. Above the mind, the soul seeks the whole, and is thus able to
connect with wisdom and compassion. How should we now recast the statement of Einstein or of Ishvarakrishna?
Should we say, for example, that “Insight without compassionate action is
lame, and compassion without wisdom is blind”? After all, all the sages have
said that true insight naturally flowers into compassion and love, like the
fragrance of a rose. To say that a Buddha—one who is discerning—is without
compassion is an oxymoron. Any true reconciliation of science and spirituality is not found in a
co-existence of abstractions. Spiritual truth—unlike the scientific one—is
always a matter of direct perception which is whole and, precisely because of
that, reveals ‘Minute Particulars’ in the sense of William Blake or
Patanjali who says in Yoga Sutras (1: 49), “The knowledge based on
inference and testimony is different from direct knowledge [obtained in the
higher states of consciousness] because it pertains to a particular object.”
This is why, the Biblical traditions have tenaciously held to the experience of
God who is a Unique Person—or Purusha Vishesha, in the language of Yoga
Sutras (1: 24). It may even be that in still higher states of consciousness,
perception shifts from that of minute particulars embedded in wholeness to that
of Undifferentiated Oneness, so that what remains is Pure Seeing without any
thing seen apart from it. Whatever be the experience in these exalted states on
the mountaintop, as it were, spiritual vision always remains a matter of direct
perception. Einstein’s own view of God is not based on an I-Thou encounter of
concrete and minute particulars. He finds it impossible to reconcile science and
faith in a personal God. He says, for example, The
main source of the present-day conflicts between the spheres of religion and of
science lies in this concept of a personal God… In their struggle for the
ethical good, teachers of religion must have the stature to give up the doctrine
of a personal God, that is, give up the source of fear and hope which in the
past placed such a vast power in the hands of priests. In their labours they
will have to avail themselves of those forces which are capable of cultivating
the Good, the True and the Beautiful in humanity itself. This is, to be sure, a
more difficult but an incomparably more worthy task.[4] Whatever difficulties Einstein may find with the notion of a personal
God, spiritual perception is not of the same kind as a philosophic or scientific
generalization or abstraction. Pascal is truer to the Biblical understanding of
God whose experience led him to forever keep on his person the declaration
“God of Abraham, Isaac and Jacob—not of the philosophers and scholars,”
because, for him, God is a matter of experience, not an inference from a
philosophical proposition or a scientific hypothesis. Both the direct spiritual super-sensuous perceptions and reasoned
scientific theorizing and experimentation and corresponding philosophic
abstractions can, in principle, reside in the same person—however rare the
actual instances of this may be. It is in the soul of the same whole person that
a reconciliation needs to take place—so that there can be purposive action
without self-centredness, individuality without egoism, and oneness with all
without loss of uniqueness. Coming back to our paradox, could we say that “Religion without
scientific knowledge is ineffective, but science without spiritual perception is
insignificant”? Above all, more than to any form whatsoever, scientific or religious, we
must turn or return to the presence of the Mystery. Let me end by again quoting
from Einstein: The
most beautiful thing we can experience is the mysterious. It is the source of
all true art and science… To know that what is impenetrable to us really
exists, manifesting itself as the highest wisdom and the most radiant beauty
which our dull faculties can comprehend only in their most primitive
forms—this knowledge, this feeling, is at the centre of true religiousness.[5] ***
*** ** *
Ravi Ravindra is Professor of Comparative Religion and Physics in the
University of Dalhousie, Canada. His most recent book is Science and the
Sacred. [1]
In his essay “Science and Religion,” in Ideas
and Opinions, Crown Publishers, New York, 1954, p. 46. [2]
Some of these issues are discussed in more detail in my
Science and the Sacred, Theosophical Publishing House, Adyar,
Chennai, India, and Wheaton, Illinois, 2000. [3]
Hymn of Entry,
trans. Elizabeth Brière, St. Vladimir’s Seminary Press, Crestwood, New
York, 1984, p. 26. [4]
“Science and Religion,” op. cit. [5]
Ideas and Opinions,
op. cit. |
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