other elements, it does never at the same time relate any separate creation of the individual soul. A Vedântist, therefore, has, as Sankara argues, no right to look on the soul as a created thing, as a product of the Highest Self, different from the latter. You see how this question can be argued ad infinitum, and it was argued ad infinitum by various schools of Vedanta philosophers. Satyabhedavâda and Bhedâbhedavâda. Two names were given to these different views, one the Satyabhedavâda, the teaching of real separation or difference between the individual and the Highest Self, the other the Bhedâbhedavâda, the teaching of both separation and of non-separation. They both admit that the individual soul and the universal soul are essentially one. The difference between them turns on the question whether the individual soul, before it arrives at the knowledge of its true nature, may be called independent, something by itself, or not. A very popular simile used is that of fire and sparks. As the sparks, it is said1, issuing from a fire are not absolutely different from the fire, because they participate in the nature of fire, and, on the other hand, are not absolutely nondifferent, because in that case they would not be distinguishable either from the fire or from each other, so the individual souls also, if considered as effects of Brahman, are neither absolutely different from Brahman, for that would mean that they are not of the nature of intelligence (i. e. Brahman), nor absolutely non-different from Brahman, because in 1 See Bhâmatî on Ved. Sûtra I. 4, 21; Thibaut, part i. p. 277. that case they would not be distinguished from each other, also because, if they were identical with Brahman and therefore omniscient, it would be useless to give people any instruction, such as the Upanishads give. You see that Indian philosophers excel in their similes and illustrations, and this idea of the souls being scintillations of God will meet us again and again in other religions also. In fact, these thoughts of the Upanishads could not be expressed more correctly in our own language than they were by Henry More, the famous Cambridge theologian, when he says: 'A spark or ray of the Divinity Clouded in earthy fogs, yclad in clay, A precious drop, sunk from Eternity, Spilt on the ground, or rather slunk away; For then we fell when we 'gan first to assay By stealth of our own selves something to been, Which fondly we new liberty did ween, And from that prank right jolly wights ourselves did deem.' Those who defend the other theory, the Satyabhedavâda, argue as follows: The individual soul is for a time absolutely different from the Highest Self. But it is spoken of in the Upanishads as non-different, because after having purified itself by means of knowledge and meditation it may pass out of the body and become once more one with the Highest Self. The text of the Upanishads thus transfers. a future state of non-difference to that time when difference still actually exists. Thus the Pankarâtrikas say: Up to the moment of emancipation being reached, the soul and the Highest Self are different. But the emancipated or enlightened soul is no longer different from the Highest Self, since there is no further cause of difference. The Approach of the Soul to Brahman. If we keep this idea clearly in view, we may now return to the first legend which we examined, and which was taken from the Brihadâranyaka-Upanishad. You may remember that there also we saw philosophical ideas grafted on ancient legends. The journey of the soul on the Path of the Fathers to the moon was evidently an old legend. From the moon, as you may remember, the soul was supposed to return to a new life, after its merits had been ex hausted. In fact the Path of the Fathers did not lead out of what is called Samsâra, the course of the world, the circle of cosmic existence, the succession of births and deaths. We do not read here, at the end of the chapter, that there is no return.' The next step was the belief in a Devayâna, the Path of the Gods, which really led to eternal blessedness, without any return to a renewed cosmic existence. We left the soul standing before the throne of Brahman, and enjoying perfect happiness in that divine presence. Nothing more is said in the old Upanishads. It is generally admitted, however, that even those who at first go on the Path of the Fathers, and return from the moon to enter upon a new cycle of life, may in the end attain higher knowledge and then proceed further on the Path of the Gods till they reach the presence of Brahman. The Upanishad ends with one more paragraph stating that those who know neither of these two roads become worms, birds, and creeping things. This is all which the old Upanishads had to say. But after the psychological speculation had led the Indian mind to a new conception of the soul, as something no longer limited by the trammels of earthly individuality, the very idea of an approach of that soul to the throne on which Brahman sat became unmeaning. Later Speculations. Brahman was no longer an objective Being that could be approached as a king is approached by a subject, and thus we find in another Upanishad, the Kaushîtaki, where the same legend is told of the soul advancing on the road of the gods till it reaches the throne of Brahman, quite a new idea coming in, the idea on which the whole of Sankara's Vedântism hinges. The legendary framework is indeed preserved in full detail, but when the soul has once placed one foot on the throne of Brahman, Brahman, you may remember, is represented as saying, 'Who art thou?' Then, after some more or less intelligible utterances, comes the bold and startling answer of the soul: 'I am what thou art. Thou art the Self, I am the Self. Thou art the True (satyam), I am the True.' And when Brahman asks once more, 'What then is the True, rò ov?' the soul replies: 'What is different from the gods (you see that Brahman is here no longer considered as a mere god), and what is different from the senses (namely the phenomenal world), that is Sat, rò ov, but the gods and the senses are tyam, or it.' This is a mere play on words (of which the old philosophers in India as well as in Greece are very fond). Sattyam (for satyam) is a regular derivative, meaning truth, but by dividing it into Sat, rò ov, and tya, it, the Upanishad wished to show that Brahman is what we should call both the absolutely and the relatively Real, the phenomenal as well as the noumenal universe. And thus the Upanishad concludes: 'Therefore by that name of Sattya is called all this, whatever there is. All this thou art.' Identity of the Soul with Brahman. You see in this Upanishad a decided advance beyond the older Upanishads. Brahman is no longer a god, not even the Supreme God; his place is taken by Brahman, neuter, the essence of all things; and the soul, knowing that it is no longer separated from that essence, learns the highest lesson of the whole Vedanta doctrine, Tat tvam asi, 'Thou art that,' that is to say, Thou, who for a time didst seem to be something by thyself, art that, art really nothing apart from the divine essence.' To know Brahman is to be Brahman, or, as we should say, 'in knowledge of Him standeth our eternal life.' Therefore even the idea of an approach of the individual towards the universal soul has to be surrendered. As soon as the true knowledge has been gained, the two, as by lightning, are known to be one, and therefore are one; an approach of the one towards the other is no longer conceivable. The Vedântist, however, does not only assert all this, but he has ever so many arguments in store to prove with scholastic and sometimes sophistic ingenuity that the individual soul could never in reality be anything separate from the Highest Being, and that the distinction between a Higher and a Lower Brahman is temporary only, and dependent on our knowledge |