The Age of the Sages

by Mark W Muesse

  “Hinduism became a family of religions without a creed or core of beliefs that every Hindu was expected to accept. Unlike some other religions in which doctrinal purity is essential and dissidents are excommunicated, Hinduism has embraced differences rather than excluded them. . . . Rather than impose a single set of doctrines and rituals, Hinduism has given wide latitude for persons to appropriate its vast resources in the way most meaningful and enriching for the individual.”

  As one might expect, many Indians found the Upanishads’ path of knowledge simply too demanding and unappealing as a way of life. The mystical tradition of imageless silence may attract some, but by far most religious people need symbols and words to guide their spirits. Aristotle wrote, “The soul never thinks without an image,”[7] and most people need to think about and conceptualize the object of their devotion. Consequently, most Hindus preferred a more traditional piety focused on worshiping a personal god or goddess rather than the highly abstract, impersonal Brahman. That there are no temples in India dedicated to Brahman is evidence that conventional religious practices such as prayer and ceremonies are not conducive to this concept of ultimate reality. How does one pray to an inconceivable principle? How does one ask for healing or favors from Brahman? How does one celebrate or tell stories about Brahman? An ultimate reality without qualities simply did not satisfy the religious needs of many. But because emerging Hinduism did not insist on uniformity of practice and belief, preexisting customs could be incorporated into the developing faith. The worship of personal deities thus continued unabated in the Axial Age and became even more popular near its end. This point is reflected in the fact that today the most popular religious literature among Hindus is not the philosophical Upanishads but the postaxial stories about the gods—the Ramayana, the Puranas, and the Bhagavad Gita, perhaps the most frequently read Hindu scripture.

  The historical coexistence of these two paths—one of devotion to the gods and goddesses and the other of seeking the realization of Brahman—naturally invites us to ask about the relationship between these very different religious outlooks. Although the way of knowledge emphasizes that ultimate reality is inconceivable and beyond words and images, anyone who knows much about India knows that Hindus are anything but silent about god. India as a land is home to an astounding array of divine icons. There are pictures and statues of members of the Hindu pantheon everywhere you go. In public buildings, on buses, in taxis and rickshaws, at the tea stalls and shops, and on the sides of roads, the gods and goddesses cast a watchful eye over everything. The casual observer could hardly guess that the ultimate reality of Hinduism was incomprehensible and beyond imagination.

  Saguna Brahman

  To incorporate the vast numbers of anthropomorphic gods and goddesses who are venerated all throughout India, Hinduism refined the theology of Brahman. By introducing another dimension to the theory of Brahman, Hindu theologians provided a way for the devotees of the gods and the seekers of Brahman to understand themselves as relating to the same ultimate reality. In so doing, Hinduism provided the theoretical foundations for its broad tolerance and inclusive outlook.

  The Upanishads clearly emphasize the incomprehensible nature of Brahman, but later thinkers would say there is a sense in which Brahman is knowable and can be represented and comprehended, at least partially. Thus, in addition to the claim that Brahman was nirguna, without qualities and beyond the mind’s grasp, later theologians argued that Brahman was also saguna, with qualities and characteristics, and therefore able to be conceived and perceived. The formless and the infinite could take form and finitude. On this belief, the many gods and goddesses of popular piety became so many manifestations of the one inconceivable reality. Through devotion to any manifestation, the individual relates to Brahman. Each god or goddess functions as a portal or conduit to the ultimate reality, mediating the sacred to the believer.

  Hindu Iconography

  The idea of saguna Brahman recognizes that most people require a concrete focus for the religious life, a symbol or image towards which they can orient their devotion, direct their prayers, and grasp something of the nature of the ultimate. Even those on the mystical path to nirguna Brahman needed, at some point on their journey, symbols of the divine, although they must ultimately strive to relinquish them. Throughout their history, Hindus have fashioned physical representations of gods and goddesses to provide these focal points for faith. Since the great majority of Hindus of the past–and many still today–have not been able to read, these physical images were a principal source of their theology.

  Hindu images of the divine can be anthropomorphic or nonanthropomorphic. Since Brahman pervades all there is, in principle anything can manifest divine reality and yield access to the sacred for those who have eyes to see. The countless array of nonanthropomorphic symbols include natural phenomena such as stones, trees, rivers, and celestial bodies. Other prominent nonanthropomorphic representations are the lingam that symbolizes the presence of Shiva and the footprints of Vishnu.

  The anthropomorphic images are those that appear humanlike. To imagine ultimate reality as in some measure like us—with intelligence, will, emotions, and perhaps even a body—helps us to imagine mystery and to relate to it in ways not possible with nonanthropomorphic representations. Anthropomorphic images allow devotees to feel close to the highest reality and believe that whoever or whatever is in charge of this world is concerned about human well-being.

  The danger in personalizing the divine, however, is making it seem so human that it appears utterly finite and unworthy of devotion. The recent furor over several fictional accounts of the life of Jesus—The Last Temptation of Christ, The Da Vinci Code, and Mel Gibson’s The Passion of the Christ—all concern this very issue. Among other things, critics argue that these stories so strongly emphasize Jesus’ humanity that his divinity is virtually lost.

  Hindu images of the gods are designed to avert this danger by incorporating elements that bluntly remind devotees that the gods are not like us and cannot be reduced to finite status. The Hindu gods thus appear simultaneously human and nonhuman. Ganesha, the remover of obstacles, has a very human body but the head of an elephant. Lord Rama, a manifestation of the god Vishnu, appears to be completely human, but his blue skin reminds Hindus of his divinity. The goddess Durga looks like a woman, but her eight arms tell us she is not. Each of these instances gives shape to the unseen and allows Hindus to glimpse some salient aspect of the divine. Durga’s many arms, for example, indicate immense power, just as Brahma’s many heads suggest omniscience. The androgynous image known as Ardhanarishvara is half the god Shiva and half the goddess Parvati, expressing the ideal of balance between the male and female principles. At the same time, the unusual qualities such as the multiple arms and heads or bisexual bodies remind devotees that the divine always transcends ordinary experience.

  Images as Incarnations

  These unearthly characteristics serve to point beyond the human-made image to ultimate, infinite reality. As symbols, no one would confuse the images with that to which they refer. Yet there is a special sense in which they are understood to embody the divine reality, allowing the images to function as incarnations of the god.

  When a craftsperson completes an image, elaborate rituals of consecration may be used to invite the god or goddess it represents to inhabit it. In a temple, the consecrated image is then treated as if it were a god in living form. In the morning, it is gently wakened from sleep, bathed and clothed, decorated with flower garlands and cosmetics, and offered food. During the day, the image is offered gifts such as flowers, fruit, water, and coconuts. At specific times during the day, the temple image is made available to worshippers for darshan, a special viewing of the divine image. Seeing the god and being seen by the god is a transaction of great importance in Hinduism. At night, the image is affectionately put to bed.

  Ordinarily, the incarnation lasts for a specific period of time, perhaps for a weeklong festival in honor of the devaor de
vi. When the designated time is up, the physical image is destroyed, often by burning or immersion in water, in what amounts to a funeral. This practice reminds devotees that although the god may indeed incarnate the image, the image is not the god. It is still the product of human creation. The image is like an impermanent body, temporarily housing divine reality, just as the atman briefly inhabits a human body.

  Even though the Hindu pantheon is immense, individual Hindus do not worship all the gods. Each devotee has an ishta-devata, a personal deity of choice. Often this personal deva is the god venerated by one’s family or village, but it is not uncommon for family members to be devoted to other gods. One’s decision to worship a specific god is uniquely one’s own and may be based on a special affinity one feels for a particular god. Devotees worship their chosen deity as the supreme god but do not feel compelled to deny the reality of other gods or their supremacy for their followers. In a land of 330 million gods—the traditional number of the pantheon—this is how Hindus can understand themselves as monotheists.

  Images and Idolatry

  Many in the Western world consider the religious use of images blasphemous and accordingly refer to images used in this way as “idols.” Often, those who level such criticism against the use of physical images fail to realize that their own beliefs and theologies are full of images of the divine, albeit linguistic rather than material images. To call god “father” or “king” and to carve a statue of Vishnu are both human efforts to give form to that which is ultimately formless. Unless one is absolutely silent about ultimate reality, it is not possible to avoid human-made images and concepts. And all images—physical and linguistic—are subject to the dangers of idolatry. Idolatry is not creating physical symbols or representations of god, as such, but confusing and identifying transcendent divine reality with what is merely the product of our minds and hands. Idolatry means to believe that god really is a father or really has four heads, rather than to recognize that these images and metaphors are merely our limited human efforts to grasp an elusive mystery.

  Here is where nirguna Brahman is of immense theological value. The idea of nirguna Brahman reminds the devotee that the ultimate reality always transcends any image. Nirguna Brahman means that no single representation of a god or goddess could ever exhaust the limitlessness of Brahman, or for that matter neither could 330 million images. The very number of gods in Hinduism and their complex manifestations, so outrageous in their extravagance, serves to astound and overwhelm the human mind. And that, in a fashion, reminds Hindus of the ultimate reality’s unspeakable nature. Thus, nirguna Brahman provides a safeguard against absolutist claims about god and promotes epistemological humility, the recognition of the limited capacities of the human mind in the face of universal mystery.

  “Nirguna Brahman means that no single representation of a god or goddess could ever exhaust the limitlessness of Brahman, or for that matter neither could 330 million images. The very number of gods in Hinduism and their complex manifestations, so outrageous in their extravagance, serves to astound and overwhelm the human mind. . . . Thus, nirguna Brahman provides a safeguard against absolutist claims about god and promotes epistemological humility, the recognition of the limited capacities of the human mind in the face of universal mystery.”

  Liberation through Devotion

  The best resource within Hinduism for understanding the dynamics of worship of the gods is probably the Bhagavad Gita, the popular scripture that was written down at the end of the Axial Age or just shortly afterward. Primarily a dialogue between a warrior named Arjuna and the god Krishna, the Gita is a veritable tour through the many practices of Hinduism, including Vedic rituals, karma and morality, meditation and yoga, and devotion to the gods. One of its central points is that all of these disciplines are spiritually beneficial. But the Gita also suggests that devotion to god is the best of all. Toward the book’s end, Krishna encourages Arjuna to focus his mind, will, and heart on god and to let go of all else. In so doing, Arjuna—and any devotee—will find liberation from samsara. Krishna says:

  Whatever you do—what you take,

  what you offer, what you give,

  what penances you perform—

  do as an offering to me . . . !

  You will be freed from the bonds of action [karma],

  from the fruit of fortune and misfortune;

  armed with the discipline of renunciation,

  your self liberated, you will join me.[8]

  All that matters is to do all things with faith in and dedication to the god. According to the Gita, faith can be so potent it does not even matter whether one is devoted to the god Krishna by name:

  When devoted men sacrifice

  to other deities with faith,

  they sacrifice to me . . . ,

  however aberrant the rites.[9]

  What matters is not faith’s object but its quality and sincerity.

  The Inexpressible and Its Expressions

  We have observed two fundamentally different theologies and practices emerging in the Indian axial period: the first, a mystical theology asserting that ultimate reality is beyond the reach of the mind and ordinary consciousness; the second, a theistic view in which the divine can be represented by symbols and images, allowing the devotee to draw close through acts of reverence and veneration. While followers of each path may claim superiority for their particular way, both approaches have been embraced in the greater tradition of Hinduism. Neither can claim to be more authentically Hindu than the other.

  * * *

  Chandogya Upanishad in Mascaró, trans. The Upanishads, 121. ↵

  Svetasvatara Upanishad in Mascaró, trans. The Upanishads, 88.↵

  The Supreme Teaching in Mascaró, trans. The Upanishads, 140.↵

  The Supreme Teaching in Mascaró, trans. The Upanishads, 136.↵

  Maitri Upanishad in Mascaró, trans. The Upanishads, 103.↵

  Rig Veda 1.164.46. My translation.↵

  Aristotle, On the Soul, Bk 3, Ch.7 in The Basic Works of Aristotle, ed. Richard McKeon (New York: Random House, 1941), 594.↵

  Bhagavad Gita, 9.27-28, trans. Barbara S. Miller (New York: Bantam, 1986), 86–87.↵

  Bhagavad Gita, 9.23, trans. Miller, 86.↵

  10

  The Life of Siddhattha Gotama

  Among the thousands of intrepid individuals who sought to end samsara in the forests of northeastern India in the Axial Age was a young man by the name of Siddhattha Gotama. Like many others, Gotama had been convinced that conquering the anguish of samsaric existence was life’s highest aspiration. Nothing else could be more important, and he was willing to give up everything to attain that goal. Yet his pursuit of the spiritual options available at the time brought him no satisfaction. He quickly mastered the ascetic disciplines for realizing Brahman but found that they did not bring what he was looking for. The way of devotion to the gods held little interest for him; he thought the gods themselves were in need of the solution he sought. After many years of frustration, he departed from these well-trodden paths and on his own discovered the object of his search. His discovery finally brought him happiness and relief from the suffering that appeared to be inherent in life itself. Siddhattha Gotama had become the Buddha.

  We will begin our study of this remarkable individual with special attention to the early experiences that led him to discover a new perspective. In later chapters, we will compare the teachings and practices he espoused and relate them to the other Axial Age philosophies we have already examined. For the first time in our study of the Indian Axial Age, we have an actual historical individual to whom we can connect specific teachings. It is important to study the Buddha’s teachings in the context of his life, because the two are so closely intertwined. The Buddha was not an armchair philosopher; his view was the direct result of his attentive engagement with his own experience, a habit of being he encouraged in his followers.

  “For the first time in our study of the Indian Axial Age, we have
an actual historical individual to whom we can connect specific teachings. It is important to study the Buddha’s teachings in the context of his life, because the two are so closely intertwined. The Buddha was not an armchair philosopher; his view was the direct result of his attentive engagement with his own experience, a habit of being he encouraged in his followers.”

  The Historical Buddha

  Like other founders of religious movements, we can distinguish the historical Buddha from the Buddha of myth and legend. By “the historical Buddha,” we mean the actual individual who lived in human history and what we can say about him with reasonable certainty using modern methods of historiography. By “the Buddha of myth and legend,” we mean the aspects of his life story that are later embellishments added by his followers after his death. In many cases, the line between history and myth is not always easy to draw, and scholars constantly debate what belongs on one side or the other.