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-Gītā, 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.