According to the “Book of the Dead,” the human economy was composed of nine different integral parts, all of which, except the “ren” or name, are comprised broadly within our idea of body and soul. The judgment of each individual took place after death, before the tribunal of Osiris, and in his Hall of Judgment. Here the soul, stripped of all chance of deceit or subterfuge, was forced to make, as his address to Osiris, the justly famous “Negative Confession,” and the truth being apparent to Osiris and his forty-two associates, judgment was given impartially and upon an absolute basis of fact. The standard of ethics demanded of the individual can be realized from the fragments quoted from this address:—“In truth I have come to thee and I have brought right and truth to thee, and I have destroyed wickedness for thee. I have not brought forward my name for exaltation to honors. I have had no association with worthless men. I have not uttered evil words against any man. I have not stirred up strife. I have not judged hastily. I have not made haughty my voice, nor behaved with insolence. I have not ill-treated servants. I have not caused harm to be done to the servant by his master. I have not made to be the first consideration of each day that excessive labor should be performed for me. I have not oppressed the members of my family. I have not defrauded the oppressed one of his property. I have neither filched away land, nor have I encroached upon the fields of others. I have not diminished from the bushel, nor have I misread the pointer of the scales nor added to the weights. I have not carried away the milk from the mouths of children. I have caused no man to suffer hunger. I have made no one to weep. I have not acted deceitfully. I have not uttered falsehood. I have not wrought evil in the place of right and truth. I have not committed theft. I have not done violence to any man. I have done no murder. I have ordered no murder done for me. I have not caused pain. I have not done iniquity. I have not defiled the wife of any man. I have not committed fornication, nor have I lain with any man. I have not done evil to mankind. I have not committed any sin against purity. I am pure. I am pure. I am pure.” Those who were condemned before this tribunal were instantly devoured by the “Eater of the Dead,” while the good were admitted into the realm of Osiris to enjoy everlasting happiness and life.
We turn now from the Valley of the Nile to that of the Tigris and Euphrates, lying about one thousand miles eastward. Here we find the home of the Assyrian and Babylonian empires, and interwoven with their religion we find many of the old myths which, in a corrupted form, occur in our own Bible. As the papyri of Egypt have been forced to give up their secrets, so have the clay cylinders of Mesopotamia. These, now lying in the British and Berlin Museums, tell in a purer and more primitive form than that found in the Old Testament, the story of the fall of man, and upon an old cylinder seal we have it illustrated, apple tree, woman, serpent, and all. The story of the deluge is also there taken from the library of Sardanapalus at Nineveh, just as it was written upon the cylinder more than two thousand years before Christ. All that is required to duplicate this deluge as far as the valley of Mesopotamia is concerned, is a tremendous downpour of water, coincident with a tornado blowing up the Persian Gulf, just as some thirty years ago, in the delta of the Ganges, nearly a quarter of a million persons perished during a like phenomenon in the Bay of Bengal. Here also we find the creation myth, and how after a terrible struggle with the engulfing waters, Marduk finally cut them in twain, and out of one-half made the roof of heaven, while out of the other half he made the earth. Then, too, out of mingled clay and celestial blood, he made the first two human beings, man and woman. The Babylonians and Assyrians believed in the immortality of the soul, dependent, of course, upon the mode in which it lived here. Thus, we find the fifth, sixth, and seventh commandments just as we have them in the Pentateuch, together with injunctions of humanity, charity, mercy, and love on the part of the follower of Babel. Speaking the truth and keeping one’s word, as well as freedom from deceit, are also commanded, and infringements of these were regarded as sins punishable by human afflictions and ailments of all sorts, including death. Their idea of heaven was fairly well-developed, very greatly in excess of that of the Hebrews. Their heaven was a place of delight and ease, while Sheol was a place full of thirst and discomfort. It is also interesting to know that the Jews got their ideas of angels from the Babylonians, with whom, as far as we know, this idea was original, inasmuch as we find no mention of them in the Egyptian religious system.
Considering now the civilization which existed in the valleys of Mesopotamia from five to six thousand years ago, the first thing which arrests our attention is their knowledge of astronomy. In place of the Egyptian pyramid, with its sides Oriented toward the cardinal points, we find the ziggurat pointing the angles instead. This one fact shows that Chaldea did not borrow from Egypt, but developed her science independently of her western neighbor. The planets were all known and named, eclipses were foretold with accuracy, and to Accadia we owe not only our observance of Sunday, but our angular duodecimal scale. What length of time must have been required to admit of such a highly-developed civilization as this, with such advanced religious and ethical ideas, is beyond the faintest conjecture. Far more remote than that time, however, were the first settlements on the alluvial plains by the rude aborigines of the highlands.
On the plateau of Iran, in Central Asia, we find the location of the oldest known habitation of the Aryan race. Here, in the earliest twilight of our history, we find tribes of human beings who possessed well-developed religious and ethical ideas, and whose descendants, moving toward the southeast and into the valleys of the Himalayas, formulated the hymns which, when compiled, constitute the Vedas or the sacred literature of the Aryan Indians, while the portion who remained behind, became the progenitors of the Aryan Iranians whose religious lore we find in that wonderful collection known as the Avesta. In these two literatures, both of which are worthy of the deepest investigation and maturest deliberation, we have, so far as is known, the oldest idea of a non-anthropomorphic deity. His attributes with the Indian were so subdivided and abstracted as to allow this one god essence to almost fill a panthenon. Their worship took the form of adoration for the striking grandeurs of nature, each of whom they regarded as a separate personal consciousness possessed of superhuman powers. Their religion seems to the superficial investigator to be but an exceptionally pure form of pantheism, but this is not, in fact, the case, since philologists to-day recognize that the overwhelming spontaneous impulse which forces the barbaric human mentality to give utterance to its deepest emotions, is a certain index of a crude monotheistic conception. It is Brahma who is the universal self-existent soul, and who comprises, in his infinity, both the god and the adorer. Of course, as time went on, these ideas became more gross, until, with the introduction of caste, the ancient Vedic religion had lost much of its beauty and purity. The religious system had become both dogmatic and pretentious, and particularly insolent in its authority with the rise in power of the sacerdotal class, the Brahmans. While the Vedic religion is imbued with a spirit of strong belief in the efficacy of sacrifice and prayer, we find that this steadily increases in domination as we approach modern times. To all, except the Sudras or Serfs, a course of life conduct is prescribed consisting of four stages, viz.: as a religious student, as a householder, as an anchorite, and last, as a religious mendicant. Corresponding to these, there were four sacred debts, viz.: that due to the gods and paid by worship; that due to the ancient sages and discharged by Vedic study; that which he owes to his manes, and which he relieves himself of by the perpetuation of his name in a son; and last, that which he owes to mankind, and which demands his incessantly practicing kindness and hospitality. They believed in the immortality of the soul and through metempsychosis, in its reward or punishment, according to its existence here.
In the sixth century before Christ, there lived in India a member of the Brahman class who was destined to more than restore Brahmanism to its pristine purity. Gautama Buddha was born as the son of a local ruler and his wife, whose conception was accomplished by her falling into a trance and dreaming that the future Buddha had become a superb white elephant, who, walking around her and striking her upon the right side with a lotus flower, entered her womb. Such is the Hindoo myth. This reformer altogether denied the existence of the soul, as an entity or substance possessing immortality in the individual sense, and he taught that the soul’s future happiness in the abstract was entirely dependent upon its performance while here, as distinguished from any recollection or effect of its previous existences. He denied the authority of the Veda and the efficacy of prayer—in fact, his creed is best shown by a quotation from his gospel: “Rituals have no efficacy, prayers are but vain repetitions, and incantations have no saving power. But to abandon covetousness and lust, to become free from all evil passions, and to give up all hatred and ill-will; that is the right sacrifice and the true worship.” This is the kernel of the pure Buddhistic belief, and this declaration at once reduces his system from a religious to a purely ethical one. Excepting the myth of his conception, his life was a perfectly natural one. Nothing could be more real than his discovery of sorrow and misery, and his inquiry after its cause; nothing can be more touching than his parting from his wife and son, whom he loved so much that he could not hazard the pleasure of a last farewell. And under the stress of this situation, we are particularly told that he was human enough to give way to tears. No ethics could be higher in the aggregate than his—not once, but time and again, does he speak thus: “Indulge in lust but little, and lust, like a child, will grow. Charity is rich in returns; charity is the greatest wealth, for though it scatters, it brings no repentance. Better than sovereignty over the earth, better than living in heaven, better than lordship over all the worlds, is the fruit of holiness. For seeking true religion, there is never a time that can be inopportune. The present reaps what the past has sown, and the future is the product of the present. Far better is it to revere the truth than try to appease the gods by the shedding of blood. What love can a man possess who believes that the destruction of life will atone for evil deeds? Can a new wrong expiate old wrongs? And can the slaughter of an innocent victim take away the sins of mankind? This is practicing religion by the neglect of moral conduct. The sensual man is the slave of his passions, and pleasure-seeking is degrading and vulgar. But to satisfy the necessities of life is not evil. To keep the body in good health is a duty, for otherwise we shall not be able to trim the lamp of wisdom, and keep our mind strong and clear. There is no savior in the world except in truth; there is no immortality except in truth. The truth is best as it is, have faith in the truth and live it. Not by birth does one become an outcast; not by birth does one become a Brahman; by deeds one becomes an outcast and by deeds one becomes a Brahman.” What could more strongly emphasize the position of Buddha in regard to the infamy of the caste system, as it has been developed in India, than the parable of the low-caste girl at the well who had been asked by the disciple Ananda for a drink. This girl, seeing that he was a Brahman, or member of the highest caste, replied that she could not give him even a drink of water without contaminating his holiness. To this, Ananda promptly replied: “I ask not for caste, but for water.” And when she came to Buddha with her heart full of gratitude and love for Ananda, he spoke to her in the following language: “Verily, there is great merit in the generosity of a king when he is kind to a slave, but there is greater merit in the slave when, ignoring the wrongs which he suffers, he cherishes kindness and good-will to all mankind. He will cease to hate his oppressors, and even when powerless to resist their usurpation will, with compassion, pity their arrogance and supercilious demeanor. Blessed are thou, Prakrita, for although you are of low caste, you will be a model for noblemen and noblewomen. You are of low caste, but Brahmans will learn a lesson from you. Swerve not from the path of justice and righteousness, and you will outshine the royal glory of queens.”
Very little wonder is it that, from North Hindustan, the doctrines of Buddha soon largely prevailed over Central, Southern, and Eastern Asia. Of the almost numberless sects into which Buddhism is divided, all go back for their inspiration to his teachings. In fact, he left little for his disciples to do in the matter of enunciating a pure and virtuous system of ethics, so thoroughly did he cover the ground himself. When we remember that Confucius was living in China at almost the identical time that Buddha was preaching in Hindustan, we cannot help but wonder at the strangeness of the occurrence—both enunciating a philosophy or system of ethics which was destined to affect the conduct of so large a portion of the human race. As we read Lao-Tse’s injunction to “requite hatred with goodness,” it seems that he must have drawn his inspiration from an Indian source.
We return now to the location in Central Asia, and to the remote antiquity from which we digressed. At the same time the Indians in the southeast have been developing their religion, the Iranians have not remained quiescent. Their great sage, Zarathustra, or Zoroaster, had been teaching his dualism—in many respects the most subtle religious philosophy ever promulgated. From what little of the Zend lore that has escaped the ravages of time, we are able to-day to trace the outlines of a religion and philosophy based upon primal polarities. Ahura is to Zoroaster the great Life-Spirit-Lord, the Great Creator, the Great Wise One. His six characteristics are the fundamental laws of a righteous universe; simple, clear, and pure. Ahura creates the world during six periods: in the first, heaven; in the second, water; in the third, earth; in the fourth, plants; in the fifth, animals; and in the sixth, man. All of the human race is descended from a primitive pair. There is a deluge, and one man is selected to save and protect representatives of each species so that the earth may be repeopled with a better race. Zoroaster questions Ahura on the Mount of Holy Conversations, and receives from him answers. So far, the parallel between Zoroastrianism and Judaism is complete. The difference now appears, for the former held that the world was to last four periods—during the first two, Ahura has complete authority. Then comes Ahriman, the self-existent evil-principle, and their conflict fills the third period. The fourth period, which opens with the advent of Zoroaster, ends with the downfall of Ahriman, and the resurrection of the soul for a future life. It is entirely within the power of the individual as to whether he wishes to come under the power of the Good or Evil Spirit, and with whom he chooses to ally himself. But the struggle is incessant, and watchfulness must always be maintained. So much for the religion—now for the ethics. To the Zoroastrian, the natural and normal in life is not derided and scorned, nor is woman looked upon as “a necessary evil,” as is the case in Buddhism, Christianity, and Mohammedanism. Here is a quotation from the Zend Avesta from the mouth of Ahura himself: “Verily, I say unto you, the man who has a wife is far above him who lives in continence; he who keeps a house is far above him who has none; he who has children is far above him who is childless; he who has riches is far above him who has none.” If we can use the moral code of the only remaining Zoroastrians in the world to-day, the Parsees, as a criterion to judge by, we must acknowledge that no religion enjoys a purer and more perfect course of conduct. Dr. Haug tells us that the following are strictly denounced by its code: Murder, infanticide, poisoning, adultery on the part of men as well as of women, sorcery, sodomy, cheating in weight and measure, breach of promise, regardless of to whom made, deception of any kind, false covenants, slander and calumny, perjury, dishonest appropriation of wealth, taking bribes, keeping back the wages of laborers, misappropriation of religious property, removal of a boundary stone, turning people out of their property, maladministration and defrauding, apostasy, heresy, and rebellion. Besides these, there are a number of special precepts relating to the enforcement of sanitary regulations, kindness to animals, hospitality to strangers, respect to superiors, and help to the poor and needy. The following are especially condemned—abandoning the husband, not acknowledging the children on the part of the father, cruelty toward subjects on the part of a ruler, avarice, laziness, illiberality, egotism, and envy. Here we find a system of religion whose predominating symbolism was the worship of fire as the nearest human concept of Ahura, and well it might be, for those primitive people who had so sacredly to cherish it. In the Greek mythology, Prometheus was inconceivably tortured for filching from heaven the divine fire and carrying it to mortals. But according to the Zoroastrian philosophy, Ahura has placed all good within the reach of man, and it is for him to choose whether he will avail himself of this or become a slave of Ahriman. It seems strange that from Bactria, either from the old Mazdaism or through Zoroaster, the world should have conceived its only monotheistic conception reasonably free from anthropomorphism, and whose associated code of ethics was so reasonable, firm and pure. There is in Zoroastrianism no thought of dogmatic bigotry any more than there is in ancient Buddhism, and its philosophy of primitive polarity well corresponds with what modern science has taught us within the last five decades. Both of these systems are meditative rather than militant, and, consequently, have not exercised the influence over the destiny of the human race which Judaism has.
In the consideration of the Jewish religion and its descendants, Christianity and Mohammedanism, we are face to face with the most warlike and combative monotheism which history has recorded. In the earlier form, and as in the Hebrew worship of to-day, Jehovah shares his authority with no one—in the Christian system, God and Christ are equally powerful, while with Islam it would seem that Mahomet had slightly the balance of power, notwithstanding the oft-repeated declaration that “there is no God but Allah.” Here we have the idea of a chosen people of God carried to its logical conclusion; the jealousy of Jehovah being in no wise an efficient operative cause for the terrible butcheries of men, women, and children, such as we have described in the Old Testament, as having befallen the enemies of the Hebrews when they were victorious. This wild and fanatical worship of a suspicious and revengeful God, although it called for the waging of countless wars upon his supposed orders, and even for the immolation upon the sacrificial altar of one’s own children; yet it did not promise, until the rise of the Pharisees into potent influence; the pleasure of a personal immortality for his followers, or the punishment by endless torture for his non-adherents. The effect of the selfish idea of God-ownership we see inherited by Christianity with the ancient heredity qualification changed to one of faith. There can be no question that the historical Christ was, perhaps, next to Buddha, the greatest religious reformer whom the world has known, if we accept as a criterion the number of individuals affected, and the nature of their work. As the enunciator of a system of ethics, it is impossible to see how the Jew could be regarded as the equal of the Indian; although no estimate of Christ can be consistently formed from the St. James version of the Bible, owing to the many and important interpolations of recent church enthusiasts. The plan of vicarious atonement is one of the most immoral doctrines of which the world has a record, and the contempt for woman which the Hebrew shows is not equalled by Buddha, although he, too, was filled with that eastern asceticism which looked with disdain upon intersexual affection. The narrowness and bigotry which can regard an omnipresent and omniscient deity as working for the benefit of but a few followers as against the great proportion of human beings who have passed through an earthly existence entirely in ignorance of Him, and who, on account of this, have to suffer eternal torture, has been responsible for no less than ten million murders in the name of Christ alone, to say nothing of the numberless victims of war and famine who have perished as a result of the insatiable thirst of Jehovah, Christ, and Mahomet for more influence in terrestrial affairs and an augmentation of adherents. The code of ethics prescribed by the Jewish régime was good—far in advance of that of the greater portion of their neighbors. But Egypt and Chaldea both played a very important part in this matter, as we must remember that Hebrew chronology only places the creation some four thousand years ago, and we now know that at least three and perhaps five thousand years previous to the possession of the Garden of Eden by Adam and Eve, the Valley of the Nile was teeming with a well-developed civilization. Christianity in the Egyptian City of the Greeks, through Philo, became deeply imbued with the spirit of Zoroaster, and the aid thus derived has been of incalculable value to it. The religion of Islam remains much as Mahomet left it, and it has been, and now is, well suited for much of the territory over which it has dominion. While its code of ethics is reasonably high, its conceptions are usually grossly sensual, and, unfortunately, since shortly after the death of its founder, the institution of the church and the political organization of the various countries where it prevails, have both been under the same head, and are both, consequently, full of corruption.
Before taking up the possibility of a religious conception based upon the best knowledge we have, there is an interesting point to be considered. Between the two dates of 650 B. C., and 650 A. D., we have the work of Buddha, Confucius, Mencius, Christ, Philo, and Mahomet, as well as a score of lesser lights; in fact, all the great religious reformers who have been instrumental in shaping the beliefs of the majority of mankind since their time. And, stranger still, that since Mahomet, the world has seen no reformer who could wrest a following of any note from the established religions, although now, with modern facilities for publication, it would seem to be a much easier task than formerly. And so it would be, were it not for the dissemination of knowledge, and the influence of the scientific system which has come about during the last century, so that now there is not that fanaticism prevalent concerning religious matters which was so rife at almost all stages of the world’s history until recently. More and more are people beginning to realize the truth which Pope so well expressed in his Alexandrine:
“For modes of faith, let graceless zealots fight,
His can’t be wrong, whose life is in the right.”