The other precious thing I can point out is their belief in the law of cause and effect. According to this law, each deed is rewarded according to its deserts; whatever vices one commits will be followed by suffering; on the other hand, every man shall enjoy the result of the good that he has done. They also believe that the law of cause and effect is everlasting, the seed making the fruit, and the fruit the seed, and so on for ever. In the same way, they think, our mind is imperishable, and often reproduced in the world. Thus far their faith is worthy enough, but the doctrine of transmigration, of which they have a too firm conviction, is apt to lead to superstition. The Tibetans often really think such and such Lamas have been born again in such and such places. But the precious Buḍḍhist creed that one’s mind and body are everlastingly in accordance with the law of cause and effect and self-compensation is so thoroughly taught to every Tibetan from his childhood by his mother, that the home lessons of the Tibetan children almost always take the form of sermons on their mythology and miscellaneous stories connected with Buḍḍhism. In sooth, Buḍḍhism is so deeply ingrained in the country that no other religion can exist in Tibet, unless it be explained by the light of Buḍḍhism. Thus, the Old Bon religion has been greatly modified and has indeed entirely lost its original form and been replaced by the New Bonism, which resembles the Ryōbu Shinto of Japan, in which the Sun God is interpreted as the incarnation of Buḍḍha; but the Tibetan goes further than the Ryōbu Shintoist did. By Bon is meant Shinnyo or Truth, or rather the incarnation of Shinnyo, and it is considered to be one branch of Buḍḍhism.
One of the things which most struck me was that Muhammadanism is found in Tibet, mostly among the Chinese and the descendants of the immigrants from Kashmīr. They number about three hundred in Lhasa and Shigatze, cling pertinaciously to their doctrines, and have two temples in the suburbs of Lhasa, with two cemeteries on the side of a distant mountain. One of the temples is for the Musulmāns from Kashmīr, and the other for the Chinese. It is rather strange to see the calm existence of Muhammadanism in a country where Buḍḍhism is so predominant. One thing that the Musulmāns in Tibet say is very striking. They declare that according to their religion there exist previous and future worlds, but that man is reborn as man, never as a lower animal, as Buḍḍhism says, and that the final destiny of the human soul is the Kingdom of Heaven or Hell. I once argued with some of the Muhammadans that no such doctrine as transmigration is to be found in the Koran, in which mention is made of the future world, but none about the past. Then I suspected that it might have been adopted from the Christian religion, for in the bible the subject is just touched on. But I doubted whether any doctrine of that sort had ever been pronounced upon by the Muhammadan Kalifate. When they heard me speak thus they simply said: “There is, there really is, the doctrine of future and previous worlds in the Muhammadan religion,” and they said it with a straight face. They really seemed to think so, but I think it a modification derived from Buḍḍhism.
Of late Christian missionaries have been trying to introduce their religion into Tibet, and I can but admire their undaunted spirit. But the country does not admit any foreigners, so their utmost efforts have no effect on the interior. They attempt therefore to convert the Tibetans who come to Darjeeling, or those who live about Sikkim. For these purposes hundreds of thousands of dollars have already been spent, and the bible and many other religious books have been translated into the Tibetan language. There are also many books written in Tibetan against Buḍḍhism. As soon as Darjeeling was opened to foreigners, the first pioneers to the town were the Christian missionaries, and ever since they have been preaching their religion with utmost zeal.
Notwithstanding all their endeavors, Christian missions have been so far a failure. The so-called members are false members, and the more earnest are not genuine Tibetans, but Sikkimese who pretend to be Tibetans. It can truly be said that there is not a single Tibetan from the interior of the country who really believes in Christianity, though there are a few who declare themselves Christian because they can thus get a living. Go to the house of a reputed Christian and you will always find in some inner room of his house the image of Buḍḍha, before which butter-lamps are burned in secret day and night. When he goes out he pretends to be a Christian, and on Sunday he carries his bible and goes to church! Such a Christian of course quickly turns his back upon Christ when his pocket is full, or he is not likely to receive any more. The missionaries make a mistake if they think that they can easily convert a Buḍḍhist into a Christian; for the reverse is the case. Let me state some fundamental differences between Christianity and Buḍḍhism. By the ‘Enlightenment’ of Buḍḍhism one obtains absolute freedom; the greatest spiritual freedom is to be attained by one’s self, while in Christianity there is an infinite power called God who prevents one from attaining absolute freedom. Again the nature of cause and effect is not clear in the Christian religion. I read in the bible “A good tree will bear good fruits and a bad tree will bear bad fruits.” Therefore I cannot say that the doctrine of cause and effect is not alluded to at all in this religion, but its scope is limited. If they would extend the text and make it applicable to previous and future lives, then I think they might open the way for Christianity to reach the Tibetans. Furthermore the sentence “Thy faith has saved thee” of Christ means exactly what Buḍḍha meant: “Of one’s own deeds, one’s own reward.” But it seems to me that the true meaning of the words of Christ is not fully developed and that its application is far too narrow. I think this is one cause of the unpopularity of Christianity among the Tibetans, who have a very deep belief in the theory of “receiving according to one’s own deeds.” These are the chief reasons, I believe, why Christianity obtains so few followers among the Tibetans after so many years of hard work by scores of missionaries at the cost of millions of dollars.
To sum up what we have seen: The predominant religion at present is Buḍḍhism, and the others are the Bon, the Muhammadan and the Christian. We have seen how the old pre-Buḍḍhist Bon religion has been transformed into the New Bon, which is now looked upon as a sect of Buḍḍhism, and how the Muhammadan religion existing within a very small sphere of influence has shown a gradual approach to Buḍḍhism, though unnoticed by themselves. As to the Christianity of Tibet, it does not seem probable that it can flourish in this land unless the present sectarian prejudices of the Churches are entirely removed and a new form and attitude be given it, so as to adapt it to the Tibetan people. The present Tibetan Buḍḍhism is corrupt and on the road to decay; still it has some jewels in it, and is almost naturally inherent in every Tibetan, and it is probable that it will continue to be predominant in the country by its own vis inertiae until a great man comes to the front to undertake the work of religious reformation and to restate the truths of the Great Freedom of Buḍḍha.
[CHAPTER LXXIX.]
The Beginning of the Disclosure of the Secret.
On the 30th of April 1901, Tsa Rong-ba, who had left for India in the preceding year, came back. He was a Tibetan merchant, to whom I had entrusted the letters to my teacher Saraṭ Chanḍra Ḍās at Darjeeling and to a Lama called Shabdung of the same town. He had also been trusted with the business of posting a letter to my native country. As soon as he arrived he at once sent for me, but his messenger could not find me at Sera, for I was at the treasury-minister’s on that day, and it was rather late when I heard of his return. So early the next morning I started for his house, expecting to receive answers from my old acquaintances in Darjeeling. After exchanging a few happy words he said to me: “At the time when I reached Darjeeling, both your teacher and the Lama were away. So I had to carry the letters with me all the way to Calcutta. On my way home, when I came back to Darjeeling I found both of them at home, and handed them the letters. Saraṭ told me to call on him again two days after to receive his answer. But I could not see him again, because I had bought a large quantity of iron by the secret order of the Government, and if the fact had become known to the Indian Government I should have been arrested. Therefore I could not stay long at Darjeeling and determined to start the next day without securing an answer from Saraṭ. But here is the answer from Lama Shabdung, who wrote it on the same day.” Saying this he handed me a letter. In the letter, it was stated that the letter to my teacher had been handed to him and another to my home had been registered. He also thanked me for my present to him. (In Tibet it is customary to annex some present to a letter, and if nothing suitable can be found, they enclose a piece of thin silk cloth, a ‘Kata,’ and as I had acted in accordance with this custom when I sent my letter to him, he thanked me for that, and as a return present sent me some European sugar and a few other things). As we talked I heard of the Transvaal war and various other items of news from Darjeeling.
