2021/09/08

Perennial Phil Ch 3 PERSONALITY, SANCTITY, DIVINE INCARNATION [14,8283]

Perennial Phil Ch 3 PERSONALITY, SANCTITY, DIVINE INCARNATION [14,8283]신성한 화신

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A] Personality -Self
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IN English, words of Latin origin tend to carry overtones of intellectual, moral and aesthetic 'classiness '—overtones which are not carried, as a rule, by their Anglo-Saxon equiva­lents. 'Maternal,' for instance, means the same as 'motherly,' 'intoxicated' as 'drunk'—but with what subtly important shades of difference! And when Shakespeare needed a name for a comic character, it was Sir Toby Belch that he chose, not Cavalier Tobias Eructation.

The word 'personality' is derived from the Latin, and its upper partials are in the highest degree respectable. For some odd philological reason, the Saxon equivalent of 'personality' is hardly ever used. Which is a pity. For if it were used—used as currently as 'belch' is used for 'eructation'—would people make such a reverential fuss about the thing connoted as certain English-speaking philosophers, moralists and theo­logians have recently done? 

'Personality,' we are constantly being assured, is the highest form of reality with which we are acquainted. But surely people would think twice about mak­ing or accepting this affirmation if, instead of 'personality,' the word employed had been its Teutonic synonym, 'selfness.' For 'selfness,' though it means precisely the same, carries none of the high-class overtones that go with 'personality.' On the contrary, its primary meaning comes to us embedded, as it were, in discords, like the note of a cracked bell. For, as all exponents of the Perennial Philosophy have constantly in­sisted, man's obsessive consciousness of, and insistence on being, a separate self is the final and most formidable obstacle to the unitive knowledge of God. 

To be a self is, for them, the original sin, and to die to self, in feeling, will and intellect, is the final and all-inclusive virtue. It is the memory of these utterances that calls up the unfavourable overtones with which the word 'selfness' is associated. [45 46]   The all too favourable over­tones of 'personality' are evoked in part by its intrinsically solemn Latinity, but also by reminiscences of what has been said about the 'persons' of the Trinity. But the persons of the Trinity have nothing in common with the flesh-and-blood persons of our everyday acquaintance—nothing, that is to say, except that indwelling Spirit, with which we ought and are intended to identify ourselves, but which most of us prefer to ignore in favour of our separate selfness. That this God-eclipsing and anti-spiritual selfness should have been given the same name as is applied to the God who is a Spirit, is, to say the least of it, unfortunate. Like all such mistakes it is probably, in some obscure and subconscious way, voluntary and purposeful. We love our selfness; we want to be justified in our love; therefore we christen it with the same name as is applied by theologians to Father, Son and Holy Spirit.

But now thou askest me how thou mayest destroy this naked knowing and feeling of thine own being. For peradventure [by  chance] thou thinkest that if it were destroyed, all other hindrances were de­stroyed; and if thou thinkest thus, thou thinkest right truly. But to this I answer thee and I say, that without a full special grace full freely given by God, and also a full according ableness on thy part to receive this grace, this naked knowing and feeling of thy being may in nowise be destroyed. And this ableness is nought else but a strong and a deep ghostly sorrow. . . . All men have matter of sorrow; but most specially he feeleth matter of sorrow that knoweth and feeleth that he is. All other sorrows in com­parison to this be but as it were game to earnest. For he may make sorrow earnestly that knoweth and feeleth not only what he is, but that he is. And whoso felt never this sorrow, let him make sorrow; for he bath never yet felt perfect sorrow. This sorrow, when it is had, cleanseth the soul, not only of sin, but also of pain that it bath deserved for sin; and also it maketh a soul able to receive that joy, the which reaveth [
 steal goods] from a man all knowing and feeling of his being.

 47

This sorrow, if it be truly conceived, is full of holy desire; and else a man might never in this life abide it or bear it. For were it not that a soul were somewhat fed with a manner of comfort by his right working, he should not be able to bear that pain that he hath by the knowing and feeling of his being. For as oft as he would have a true knowing and a feeling of his God in purity of spirit (as it may be here), and then feeleth that he may not—for he findeth evermore his knowing and his feeling as it were occupied and filled with a foul stinking lump of himself, the which must always be hated and despised and forsaken, if he shall be God's perfect disciple, taught by Himself in the mount of perfection—so oft he goeth nigh mad for sorrow.

This sorrow and this desire must every soul have and feel in itself (either in this manner or in another), as God vouchsafeth to teach his ghostly disciples according to his good will and their ac­cording ableness in body and in soul, in degree and disposition, ere the time be that they may perfectly be oned unto God in perfect charity—such as may be had here, if God vouchsafeth.


The Cloud of Unknowing
영어 위키백과 
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[The Cloud of Unknowing (Middle English: The Cloude of Unknowyng) is an anonymous work of Christian mysticism written in Middle English in the latter half of the 14th century. The text is a spiritual guide on contemplative prayer in the late Middle Ages. 
The underlying message of this work suggests that the way to know God is to abandon consideration of God's particular activities and attributes, and be courageous enough to surrender one's mind and ego to the realm of "unknowing", at which point one may begin to glimpse the nature of God.]
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[이 작품의 근본적인 메시지는 하나님을 아는 길은 하나님의 특별한 활동과 속성에 대한 고려를 포기하고 자신의 마음과 자아를 "무지"의 영역에 내맡길 만큼 용기를 내는 것 임을 암시합니다. 그렇게 하면 신의 본성을 엿보기 시작하게 될지도 모른다. ]

vouchsafe --Grant condescendingly — have focus



What is the nature of this 'stinking lump' of selfness or per­sonality, which has to be so passionately repented of and so completely died to, before there can be any 'true knowing of God in purity of spirit'

The most meagre and non-committal hypothesis is that of Hume. 
'Mankind,' he says, 'are nothing but a bundle or collection of different perceptions, which suc­ceed each other with an inconceivable rapidity and are in a perpetual flux and movement.' 

An almost identical answer is given by the Buddhists, whose doctrine of anatta is the denial of any permanent soul, existing behind the flux of experience and the various psycho-physical skancikas (closely correspond­ing to Hume's 'bundles'), which constitute the more enduring elements of personality, Hume and the Buddhists give a suffi­ciently realistic description of selfness in action; but they fail to explain how or why the bundles ever became bundles.

 Did their constituent atoms of experience come together of their own accord? And, if so, why, or by what means, and within [48] what kind of a non-spatial universe? 
To give a plausible answer to these questions in terms of anatta is so difficult that we are forced to abandon the doctrine in favour of the notion that, 
behind the flux and within the bundles, there exists some kind of permanent soul, by which experience is organized and which in turn makes use of that organized experience to become a particular and unique personality. 

This is the view of the orthodox Hinduism, from which Buddhist thought parted com­pany, and of almost all European thought from before the time of Aristotle to the present day. 

But whereas most contem­porary thinkers make an attempt to describe human nature in terms of a dichotomy of interacting psyche and physique, or an inseparable wholeness of these two elements within particular embodied selves,

all the exponents of the Perennial Philosophy make, in one form or another, the affirmation that man is a kind of trinity composed of body, psyche and spirit. 
Selfness or personality is a product of the first two elements. 
The third element (that quidquid increatum et increabile, as Eckhart called it) is akin to, or even identical with, the divine Spirit that is the Ground of all being. 

Man's final end, the purpose of his existence, is to love, know and be united with the immanent and transcendent Godhead. 
And this identification of self with spiritual not-self can be achieved only by 'dying to' selfness and living to spirit. 
[Definition of godhead - 1: divine nature or essence]

What could begin to deny self, if there were not something in man different from self?
William Law

What is man? An angel, an animal, a void, a world, a nothing surrounded by God, indigent of God, capable of God, filled with God, if it so desires.

Bérulle

The separate creaturely life, as opposed to life in union with God, is only a life of various appetites, hungers and wants, and cannot possibly be anything else. God Himself cannot make a creature [49] to be in itself, or in its own nature, anything else but a state of emptiness. 
The highest life that is natural and creaturely can go no higher than this; it can only be a bare capacity for goodness and cannot possibly be a good and happy life but by the life of God dwelling in and in union with it. And this is the twofold life that, of all necessity, must be united in every good and perfect and happy creature.

William Law
William Law (1686 – 9 April 1761) was a Church of England priest who lost his position at Emmanuel College, Cambridge when his conscience would not allow him to take the required oath of allegiance to the first Hanoverian monarch, King George I.
 

The Scriptures say of human beings that there is an outward man and along with him an inner man.

To the outward man belong those things that depend on the soul, but are connected with the flesh and are blended with it, and the co-operative functions of the several members, such as the eye, the ear, the tongue, the hand and so on.

The Scripture speaks of all this as the old man, the earthy man, the outward person, the enemy, the servant.

Within us all is the other person, the inner man, whom the Scripture calls the new man, the heavenly man, the young person, the friend, the aristocrat.

Eckhart

The seed of God is in us. Given an intelligent and hard-working farmer, it will thrive and grow up to God, whose seed it is; and accordingly its fruits will be God-nature. Pear seeds grow into pear trees, nut seeds into nut trees, and God seed into God.

Eckhart

The will is free and we are at liberty to identify our being either exclusively with our selfness and its interests, regarded as independent of indwelling Spirit and transcendent Godhead (in which case we shall be passively damned or actively fiend­ish), or exclusively with the divine within us and without (in which case we shall be saints), or finally with self at one moment or in one context and with spiritual, not-self at other moments and in other contexts (in which case we shall be average citizens, too theocentric to be wholly lost, and too [50] 
egocentric to achieve enlightenment and a total deliverance). 

Since human craving can never be satisfied except by the unitive knowledge of God and since the mind-body is capable of an enormous variety of experiences,

we are free to identify our­selves with an almost infinite number of possible objects—
  • with the pleasures of gluttony, for example, or intemperance, or sensuality
  • with money, power or fame; 
  • with our family, regarded as a possession or actually an extension and projec­tion of our own selfness; 
  • with our goods and chattels, our hobbies, our collections; with our artistic or scientific talents;
  • with some favourite branch of knowledge, some fascinating 'special subject'; 
  • with our professions, our political parties, our churches; 
  • with our pains and illnesses; with our memories of success or misfortune, our hopes, fears and schemes for the future; and finally 
  • with the eternal Reality within which and by which all the rest has its being. 



And we are free, of course, to identify ourselves with more than one of these things simul­taneously or in succession. Hence the quite astonishingly im­probable combination of traits making up a complex person­ality. 
Thus a man 
can be at once 
  • the craftiest of politicians and the dupe of his own verbiage, 
can have a passion 
  • for brandy and money, and 
  • an equal passion for the poetry of George Meredith 
  • and under-age girls and his mother, 
  • for horse-racing and 
  • detective stories and 
  • the good of his country
  • —the whole accompanied by a sneaking fear of hell-fire, 
  • a hatred of Spinoza and 
  • an unblemished record for Sunday church-going. 

A per­son born with one kind of psycho-physical constitution will be tempted to identify himself with one set of interests and passions, while a person with another kind of temperament will be tempted to make very different identifications. 

But these temptations (though extremely powerful, if the constitutional bias is strongly marked) do not have to be succumbed to; 
people can and do resist them, can and do refuse to identify themselves with what it would be all too easy and natural for them to be; can and do become better and quite other than their own selves. 

In this context the following brief article on 'How Men Behave in Crisis' (published in a recent issue of Harper's Magaine) is highly significant.  [51]   

'A young psychi­atrist, who went as a medical observer on five combat missions of the Eighth Air Force in England, says that in times of great stress and danger men are likely to react quite uniformly, even though under normal circumstances they differ widely in per­sonality. He went on one mission, during which the B-17 plane and crew were so severely damaged that survival seemed impossible. He had already studied the "on the ground" per­sonalities of the crew and had found that they represented a great diversity of human types. Of their behaviour in crisis he reported:

"Their reactions were remarkably alike. During the violent combat and in the acute emergencies that arose during it, they were all quietly precise on the interphone and decisive in action. The tail gunner, right waist gunner and navigator were severely wounded early in the fight, but all three kept at their duties efficiently and without cessation. The burden of emer­gency work fell on the pilot, engineer and ball turret gunner, and all functioned with rapidity, skilful effectiveness and no lost motion. The burden of the decisions, during, but par­ticularly after the combat, rested essentially on the pilot and, in secondary details, on the co-pilot and bombardier. The decisions, arrived at with care and speed, were unquestioned once they were made, and proved excellent. In the period when disaster was momentarily expected, the alternative plans of action were made clearly and with no thought other than the safety of the entire crew. All at this point were quiet, unobtrusively cheerful and ready for anything. There was at no time paralysis, panic, unclear thinking, faulty or confused judgment, or self-seeking in any one of them.

'"One could not possibly have inferred from their behaviour that this one was a man of unstable moods and that that one was a shy, quiet, introspective man. They all became out­wardly calm, precise in thought and rapid in action.

"Such action is typical of a crew who know intimately what fear is, so that they can use, without being distracted by, its physiological concomitants; who are well trained, so that they [51] can direct their action with clarity; and who have all the more than personal trust inherent in a unified team."

We see then that, when the crisis came, each of these young men forgot the particular personality which he had built up out of the elements provided by his heredity and the environ­ment in which he had grown up; that one resisted the normally irresistible temptation to identify himself with his mood of the moment, another the temptation to identify himself with his private day-dreams, and so on with the rest; and that all of them behaved in the same strikingly similar and wholly admirable way. It was as though the crisis and the preliminary training for crisis had lifted them out of their divergent per­sonalities and raised them to the same higher level.

Sometimes crisis alone, without any preparatory training, is sufficient to make a man forget to be his customary self and become, for the time being, something quite different. Thus the most unlikely people will, under the influence of disaster, temporarily turn into heroes martyrs, selfless labourers for the good of their fellows
Very often, too, the proximity of death produces similar results. For example, Samuel Johnson be­haved in one way during almost the whole of his life and in quite another way during his last illness. The fascinatingly complex personality, in which six generations of Boswellians have taken so much delight—the learned boor and glutton, the kind-hearted bully, the superstitious intellectual, the con­vinced Christian who was a fetishist, the courageous man who was terrified of death—became, while he was actually dying, simple, single, serene and God-centred.

Paradoxical as it may seem, it is, for very many persons, much easier to behave selflessly in time of crisis than it is when life is taking its normal course in undisturbed tranquillity. When the going is easy, there is nothing to make us forget our precious selfness, nothing (except our own will to mortifica­tion and the knowledge of God) to distract our minds from the distractions with which we have chosen to be identified; we are at perfect liberty to wallow in our personality to our heart's content. And how we wallow! It is for this reason that all the masters of the spiritual life insist so strongly upon the importance of little things.[53]

God requires a faithful fulfilment of the merest trifle given us to do, rather than the most ardent aspiration to things to which we are not called.

St. François de Sales

There is no one in the world who cannot arrive without difficulty at the most eminent perfection by fulfilling with love obscure and common duties.

J. P. de Caussade

Some people measure the worth of good actions only by their natural qualities or their difficulty, giving the preference to what is conspicuous or brilliant. Such men forget that Christian virtues, which are God's inspirations, should be viewed from the side of grace, not that of nature. The dignity and difficulty of a good action certainly affects what is technically called its acci­dental worth, but all its essential worth comes from love alone.

Jean Pierre Catnus

(quoting St. François de Sales)

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B] The saint   
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is one who knows that every moment of our human life is a moment of crisis; for at every moment we are called upon to make an all-important decision—to choose between the way that leads to death and spiritual darkness and the way that leads towards light and life; between interests exclusively temporal and the eternal order; between our personal will, or the will of some projection of our personality, and the will of God

In order to fit himself to deal with the emergencies of his way of life, the saint undertakes appropriate training of mind and body, just as the soldier does. But whereas the objec­tives of military training are limited and very simple, namely, to make men courageous, cool-headed and co-operatively effi­cient in the business of killing other men, with whom, person­ally, they have no quarrel, 
the objectives of spiritual training are much less narrowly specialized. [54]  

  Here the aim is primarily to bring human beings to a state in which, because there are no longer any God-eclipsing obstacles between themselves and Reality, they are able to be aware continuously of the divine Ground of their own and all other beings; 
secondarily, as a means to this end, to meet all, even the most trivial circum­stances of daily living, without malice, greed, self-assertion or voluntary ignorance, but consistently with love and under­standing. Because its objectives are not limited, because, for the lover of God, every moment is a moment of crisis, spiritual training is incomparably more difficult and searching than military training. There are many good soldiers, few saints.

We have seen that, in critical emergencies, soldiers specifi­cally trained to cope with that kind of thing tend to forget the inborn and acquired idiosyncrasies with which they normally identify their being and, transcending selfness, to behave in the same, one-pointed, better-than-personal way. What is true of soldiers is also true of saints, but with this important difference —that the aim of spiritual training is to make people become selfless in every circumstance of life, while the aim of military training is to make them selfless only in certain very special circumstances and in relation to only certain classes of human beings. 
This could not be otherwise; for all that we are and will and do depends, in the last analysis, upon what we believe the Nature of Things to be. 
The philosophy that rationalizes power politics and justifies war and military training is always (whatever the official religion of the politicians and war makers) some wildly unrealistic doctrine of national, racial or ideo­logical idolatry, having, as its inevitable corollaries, the notions of Herrenvolk and 'the lesser breeds without the Law.'
the German nation as considered by the Nazis to be innately superior to others.

The biographies of the saints testify unequivocally to the fact that spiritual training leads to a transcendence of personal­ity, not merely in the special circumstances of battle, but in all circumstances and in relation to all creatures, so that the saint 'loves his enemies' or, if he is a Buddhist, does not even recognize the existence of enemies, but treats all sentient beings, sub-human as well as human, with the same compassion and disinterested goodwill.  
[55] 

Those who win through to the unitive knowledge of God set out upon their course from the most diverse starting points. 
One is a man, another a woman; one a born active, another a born contemplative. No two of them inherit the same temperament and physical constitution, and their lives are passed in material, moral and intellectual environ­ments that are profoundly dissimilar. Nevertheless, in so far as they are saints, in so far as they possess the unitive knowledge that makes them 'perfect as their Father which is in heaven is perfect,' they are all astonishingly alike. 
Their actions are uniformly selfless and they are constantly recollected, so that at every moment they know who they are and what is their true relation to the universe and its spiritual Ground. 
Of even plain average people it may be said that their name is Legion—much more so of exceptionally complex personalities, who identify themselves with a wide diversity of moods, cravings and opinions. Saints, on the contrary, are neither double-minded nor half-hearted, but single and, however great their intellectual gifts, profoundly simple
The multiplicity of Legion has given place to one-pointedness—not to any of those evil one-pointednesses of ambition or covetousness, or lust for power and fame, not even to any of the nobler, but still all too human one-pointednesses of art, scholarship and science, regarded as ends in themselves, but to the supreme, more than human one-pointedness that is the very being of those souls who consciously and consistently pursue man's final end, the knowledge of eternal Reality. 
In one of the Pali scriptures there is a significant anecdote about the Brahman Drona who, 'seeing the Blessed One sitting at the foot of a tree, asked him, "Are you a deva?" And the Exalted One answered, "I am not." "Are you a gandizarva?" "I am not." "Are you ayaksha?" "I am not." "Are you a man?" "I am not a man." On the Brahman asking what he might be, the Blessed One replied, "Those evil influences, those cravings, whose non-destruction would have individualized me as a deva, a gand/zarva, a yaks/ia (three types of supernatural being), or a man, I have completely annihilated. Know therefore that I am Buddha."[56]

Here we may remark in passing that it is only the one-pointed who are truly capable of worshipping one God. Monotheism as a theory can be entertained even by a person whose name is Legion. But when it comes to passing from theory to practice, from discursive knowledge about to imme­diate acquaintance with the one God, there cannot be mono­theism except where there is singleness of heart. Knowledge is in the knower according to the mode of the knower. 
Where the knower is poly-psychic the universe he knows by imme­diate experience is polytheistic. 
The Buddha declined to make any statement in regard to the ultimate divine Reality. All he would talk about was nirvana, which is the name of the experience that comes to the totally selfless and one-pointed. 

To this same experience others have given the name of union with Brahman, with Al Haqq, with the immanent and tran­scendent Godhead
Maintaining, in this matter, the attitude of a strict operationalist, the Buddha would speak only of the spiritual experience, not of the metaphysical entity presumed by the theologians of other religions, as also of later Buddhism, to be the object and (since in contemplation the knower, the known and the knowledge are all one) at the same time the subject and substance of that experience.

When a man lacks discrimination, his will wanders in all direc­tions, after innumerable aims. Those who lack discrimination may quote the letter of the scripture; but they are really denying its inner truth
They are full of worldly desires and hungry for the rewards of heaven. 
They use beautiful figures of speech; they teach elaborate rituals, which are supposed to obtain pleasure and power for those who practise them. 
But, actually, they understand nothing except the law of Karma that chains men to rebirth.

Those whose discrimination is stolen away by such talk grow deeply attached to pleasure and power. And so they are unable to develop that one-pointed concentration of the will, which leads a man to absorption in God.[57]

B/agavaa'-Gitc

Among the cultivated and mentally active, hagiography is now a very unpopular form of literature. 

hagiography /ˌhaɡɪˈɒɡrəfi/
noun - the writing of the lives of saints.
a biography that treats its subject with undue reverence.

The fact is not at all sur­prising. The cultivated and the mentally active have an in­satiable appetite for novelty, diversity and distraction. 
But the saints, however commanding their talents and whatever the nature of their professional activities, are all incessantly pre­occupied with only one subject—spiritual Reality and the means by which they and their fellows can come to the unitive knowledge of that Reality. 
And as for their actions—these are as monotonously uniform as their thoughts; for in all circum­stances they behave selflessly, patiently and with indefatigable charity. No wonder, then, if the biographies of such men and women remain unread. For one well-educated person who knows anything about William Law there are two or three hundred who have read (James) Boswell's life of his younger contem­porary. Why? Because, until he actually lay dying, (Samuel) Johnson indulged himself in the most fascinating of multiple personali­ties; whereas Law, for all the superiority of his talents, was almost absurdly simple and single-minded. Legion prefers to read about Legion. It is for this reason that, in the whole repertory of epic, drama and the novel, there are hardly any representations of true theocentric saints.


O Friend, hope for Him whilst you live, know whilst you live,
understand whilst you live; for in life deliverance abides. If your bonds be not broken whilst living, what hope of deliverance in death?
It is but an empty dream that the soul shall have union with Him because it has passed from the body;
If He is found now, He is found then;
If not, we do but go to dwell in the City of Death.


Kabir

This figure in the form of a sun (the description is of the engraved frontispiece to the first edition of The Rule of Perfection) repre­sents the will of God. 
The faces placed here in the sun represent souls living in the divine will. 
These faces are arranged in three concentric circles, showing the three degrees of this divine will. 
  • The first or outermost degree signifies the souls of the active life;
  •  the second, those of the life of contemplation; 
  • the third, those of the life of supereminence. 
Outside the first circle are many tools, such as pincers and hammers, denoting the active life. But round the second circle we have placed nothing at all, in order to signify that in this kind of contemplative life, without any other specula­tions or practices, one must follow the leading of the will of God. The tools are on the ground and in shadow, inasmuch as outward works are in themselves full of darkness. These tools, however, are touched by a ray of the sun, to show that works may be enlightened and illuminated by the will of God. [58]

The light of the divine will shines but little on the faces of the first circle; much more on those of the second; while those of the third or innermost circle are resplendent. The features of the first show up most clearly; the second, less; the third, hardly at all. 
This signifies that the souls of the first degree are much in themselves; those of the second degree are less in themselves and more in God; those in the third degree are almost nothing in themselves and all in God, absorbed in his essential will. All these faces have their eyes fixed on the will of God.

Benet of Canfield

It is in virtue of his absorption in God and just because he has not identified his being with the inborn and acquired elements of his private personality, that the saint is able to exercise his entirely non-coercive and therefore entirely beneficent in­fluence on individuals and even on whole societies. 
Or, to be more accurate, it is because he has purged himself of selfness that divine Reality is able to use him as a channel of grace and power. 
'I live, yet not I, but Christ—the eternal Logosliveth in me.' 
True of the saint, this must afortiori be true of the Avatar, or incarnation of God. If, in so far as he was a saint, St. Paul was 'not I,' then certainly Christ was 'not I'; [59] and 
to talk, as so many liberal churchmen now do, of worship­ping 'the personality of Jesus,' is an absurdity. 
For, obvi­ously, had Jesus remained content merely to have a person­ality, like the rest of us, he would never have exercised the kind of influence which in fact he did exercise, and it would never have occurred to anyone to regard him as a divine incarnation and to identify him with the Logos. 
That he came to be thought of as the Christ was due to the fact that he had passed beyond selfness and had become the bodily and mental conduit through which a more than personal, super­natural life flowed down into the world.

Souls which have come to the unitive knowledge of God are, in Benet of Canfield's phrase, 'almost nothing in them­selves and all in God.' 

Benet Canfield, also known as Father Benet, Benoit of Canfield, or Benoît de Canfeld, (1562–1610), was an English Recusant and mystic. His Rule of Perfection served as a manual two or three generations of mystics.[1] For his influence on Madame Acarie, Pierre de Bérulle, André Duval, and Vincent de Paul he has been called the "Masters of masters".[2]

This vanishing residue of selfness per­sists because, in some slight measure, they still identify their being with some innate psycho-physical idiosyncrasy, some acquired habit of thought or feeling, some convention or un­analysed prejudice current in the social environment. Jesus was almost wholly absorbed in the essential will of God; but in spite of this, he may have retained some elements of self-ness. To what extent there was any 'I' associated with the more-than-personal, divine 'Not-I,' it is very difficult, on the basis of the existing evidence, to judge. 
For example, did Jesus interpret his experience of divine Reality and his own spon­taneous inferences from that experience in terms of those fascin­ating apocalyptic notions current in contemporary Jewish circles? 
Some eminent scholars have argued that the doctrine of the world's imminent dissolution was the central core of his teaching. 
Others, equally learned, have held that it was attri­buted to him by the authors of the Synoptic Gospels, and that Jesus himself did not identify his experience and his theo­logical thinking with locally popular opinions. 
Which party is right? Goodness knows. 
On this subject, as on so many others, the existing evidence does not permit of a certain and unambiguous answer.

The moral of all this is plain. The quantity and quality of the surviving biographical documents are such that we have no means of knowing what the residual personality of Jesus was really like. 
But if the Gospels tell us very little about the 'I' which was Jesus, they make up for this deficiency by telling us inferentially, in the parables and discourses, a good deal about the spiritual 'not-I,' whose manifest presence in the mortal man was the reason why his disciples called him the Christ and identified him with the eternal Logos.6o 

The biography of a saint or avatar is valuable only in so far as it throws light upon the means by which in the circum­stances of a particular human life, the 'I' was purged away so as to make room for the divine 'not-I.

The authors of the Synoptic Gospels did not choose to write such a biography, and no amount of textual criticism or ingenious surmise can call it into existence. In the course of the last hundred years an enormous sum of energy has been expended on the attempt to make documents yield more evidence than in fact they con­tain. However regrettable may be the Synoptists' lack of interest in biography, and whatever objections may be raised against the theologies of Paul and John, there can still be no doubt that their instinct was essentially sound.

 Each in his own way wrote about the eternal 'not-I' of Christ rather than the historical 'I'; each in his own way stressed that element in the life of Jesus, in which, because it is more-than-personal, all persons can participate. (The nature of selfness is such that one person cannot be a part of another person. A self can contain or be contained by something that is either less or more than a self, it can never contain or be contained by a self.)

=====
C] Incarnation
===
The doctrine that God can be incarnated in human form
is found in most of the principal historic expositions of the Perennial Philosophy—in Hinduism, in Mahayana Buddhism [?] , in Christianity and in the Mohammedanism of the Sufis, by whom the Prophet was equated with the eternal Logos.61

When goodness grows weak,
When evil increases,
I make myself a body.
In every age I come back To deliver the holy,
To destroy the sin of the sinner,
To establish righteousness.

He who knows the nature
Of my task and my holy birth Is not reborn
When he leaves this body; He comes to Me.
Flying from fear,
From lust and anger,
He hides in Me,
His refuge and safety.
Burnt clean in the blaze of my being,
In Me many find home.

B/i agavad-Gita

Then the Blessed One spoke and said: 'Know, Vasetha, that from time to time a Tathagata is born into the world, a fully Enlightened One, blessed and worthy, abounding in wisdom and goodness, happy with knowledge of the worlds, unsurpassed as a guide to erring mortals, a teacher of gods and men, a Blessed Buddha. He thoroughly understands this universe, as though he saw it face to face. . . . The Truth does he proclaim both in its letter and in its spirit, lovely in its origin, lovely in its progress, lovely in its consummation. A higher life doth he make known in all its purity and in all its perfectness.

Tevigga Sutta

Krishna is an incarnation of Brahman, Gautama Buddha of what the Mahayanists called the Dharmakaya, Suchness, Mind, the spiritual Ground of all being
The Christian doctrine of the incarnation of the Godhead in human form differs from that of India and the Far East inasmuch as it affirms that there has been and can be only one Avatar.

A term, dharmakaya, was coined to describe a more metaphorical body, a body or collection of all the Buddha's good qualities or dharmas, such as his wisdom, his compassion, his fortitude, his patience.

dharmakaya | Buddhist concept | Britannica



What we do depends in large measure upon what we think, and 
if what we do is evil, there is good empirical reason for supposing that our thought-patterns are inadequate to material, mental or spiritual reality. 

Because Christians believed that there had been only one Avatar, 
Christian history has been dis­graced by more and bloodier crusades, interdenominational wars, persecutions and proselytizing imperialism than has the history of Hinduism and Buddhism. 
Absurd and idolatrous doctrines, affirming the quasi-divine nature of sovereign states and their rulers, have led oriental, no less than Western, peoples into innumerable political wars; 
but because they have not believed in an exclusive revelation at one sole instant of time, or in the quasi-divinity of an ecclesiastical organization, 
oriental peoples have kept remarkably clear of the mass murder for religion's sake, which has been so dreadfully frequent in Chris­tendom. 
And while, in this important respect, the level of public morality has been lower in the West than in the East, the levels of exceptional sanctity and of ordinary individual morality have not, so far as one can judge from the available evidence, been any higher. 
If the tree is indeed known by its fruits, Christianity's departure from the norm of the Perennial Philosophy would seem to be philosophically unjustifiable.[62]

logos, (Greek: “word,” “reason,” or “plan”) plural logoi, in ancient Greek philosophy and early Christian theology, the divine reason implicit in the cosmos, ordering it and giving it form and meaning. 



The Logos passes out of eternity into time for no other purpose than to assist the beings, whose bodily form he takes, to pass out of time into eternity. If the Avatar's appearance upon the stage of history is enormously important, this is due to the fact that by his teaching he points out, and by his being a channel of grace and divine power he actually is, the meons by which human beings may transcend the limitations of his­tory. 

The author of the Fourth Gospel affirms that the Word became flesh; but in another passage he adds that the flesh profiteth nothing—nothing, that is to say, in itself, but a great deal, of course, as a means to the union with immanent and transcendent Spirit.

 In this context it is very interesting to consider the development of Buddhism.

 'Under the forms of religious or mystical imagery,' writes R. E. Johnston in his Buddhist China, 
the Mahayana expresses the universal, 
whereas [63] 
Hinayana cannot set itself free from the domination of histor­ical fact.' 
In the words of an eminent orientalist, Ananda K. Coomaraswamy, 
'The Mahayanist believer is warned—pre-cisely as the worshipper of Krishna is warned in the Vaishna-vite scriptures 
that the Krishna Lila is not a history, but a process for ever unfolded in the heart of man—that matters of historical fact are without religious significance' 
(except, we should add, in so far as they point to or themselves constitute the means—whether remote or proximate, whether political, ethical or spiritual—by which men may come to deliverance from selfness and the temporal order.)

----
In the West, the mystics went some way towards liberating Christianity from its unfortunate servitude to historic fact (or, to be more accurate) to those various mixtures of contemporary record with subsequent inference and phantasy, which have, at different epochs, been accepted as historic fact). 

From the writings of Eckhart, Tauler and Ruysbroeck, of Boehme, William Law and the Quakers, it would be possible to extract 
a spiritualized and universalized Christianity, 
whose narratives should refer, not to history as it was, or as someone afterwards thought it ought to be, 
but to 'processes forever unfolded in the heart of man.' 

But unfortunately the influence of the mystics was never powerful enough to bring about a radical Mahayanist revolution in the West. 

In spite of them, Chris­tianity has remained a religion in which the pure Perennial Philosophy has been overlaid, now more, now less, by an idolatrous preoccupation with events and things in time—events and things regarded not merely as useful means, but as ends, intrinsically sacred and indeed divine. 
---

Moreover, such improvements on history as were made in the course of cen­turies were, most imprudently, treated as though they them­selves were a part of history—a procedure which put a power­ful weapon into the hands of Protestant and, later, of Rational­ist controversialists
How much wiser it would have been to admit the perfectly avowable fact that, when the sternness of Christ the Judge had been unduly emphasized, men and women felt the need of personifying the divine compassion in a new [64] form, with the result that the figure of the Virgin, mediatrix to the mediator, came into increased prominence. 
And when, in course of time, the Queen of Heaven was felt to be too awe-inspiring, compassion was re-personified in the homely figure of St. Joseph, who thus became mediator to the mediatrix to the mediator. 

===

In exactly the same way Buddhist worshippers felt that the historic Sakyamuni, with his insistence on recollectedness, discrimination and a total dying to self as the prin­cipal means of liberation, was too stern and too intellectual. 
The result was that the love and compassion which Sakyamuni had also inculcated came to be personified in Buddhas such as Amida and Maitreya—divine characters completely removed from history, inasmuch as their temporal career was situated somewhere in the distant past or distant future. 
Here it may be remarked that the vast numbers of Buddhas and Bodhis-attvas, of whom the Mahayanist theologians speak, are com­mensurate with the vastness of their cosmology. Time, for them, is beginningless, and the innumerable universes, every one of them supporting sentient beings of every possible variety, are born, evolve, decay and die, only to repeat the same cycle--again and again, until the final inconceivably remote consummation, when every sentient being in all the worlds shall have won to deliverance out of time into eternal Suchness or Buddhahood. 

This cosmological background to Buddhism has affinities with the world picture of modern astronomy—especially with that version of it offered in the recently published theory of Dr. Weiszäckcr regarding the formation of planets. If the Weiszäcker hypothesis is correct, the production of a planetary system would be a normal epi­sode in the life of every star. There are forty thousand million stars in our own galactic system alone, and beyond our galaxy other galaxies, indefinitely. If, as we have no choice but to believe, spiritual laws governing consciousness are uniform throughout the whole planet-bearing and presumably life-supporting universe, then certainly there is plenty of room, and at the same time, no doubt, the most agonizing and desperate need, for those innumerable redemptive incarnations of Suchness, upon whose shining multitudes the Mahayanists love to dwell.[6]

For my part, I think the chief reason which prompted the invis­ible God to become visible in the flesh and to hold converse with men was to lead carnal men, who are only able to love carnally, to the healthful love of his flesh, and afterwards, little by little, to spiritual love.
St. Bernard

St. Bernard's doctrine of 'the carnal love of Christ' has been admirably summed up by Professor Lienne Gilson in his book, The Mystical Theology of St. Bernard. 'Knowledge of self already expanded into social carnal love of the neighbour, so like oneself in misery, is now a second time expanded into a carnal love of Christ, the model of compassion, since for our salvation He has become the Man of Sorrows. 

Here then is the place occupied in Cistercian mysticism by the meditation on the visible Humanity of Christ. It is but a beginning, but an absolutely necessary beginning.... 
Charity, of course, is essen­tially spiritual, and a love of this kind can be no more than its first moment. 
It is too much bound up with the senses, unless we know how to make use of it with prudence, and to lean on it only as something to be surpassed.
In expressing himself thus, Bernard merely codified the teachings of his own experi­ence; for we have it from him that he was much given to the practice of this sensitive love at the outset of his "conversion"; later on he was to consider it an advance to have passed beyond it; not, that is to say, to have forgotten it, but to have added another, which outweighs it as the rational and spiritual out­weigh the carnal. Nevertheless, this beginning is already a summit.

'This sensitive affection for Christ was always presented by St. Bernard as love of a relatively inferior order. It is so pre­cisely on account of its sensitive character, for charity is of a purely spiritual essence.
 In right the soul should be able to enter directly into union, in virtue of its spiritual powers, with a God Who is pure spirit.[66]   The Incarnation, moreover, should be regarded as one of the consequences of man's transgression, so that love for the Person of Christ is, as a matter of fact, bound up with the history of a fall which need not, and should not, have happened. 
St. Bernard furthermore, and in several places, notes that this affection cannot stand safely alone, but needs to be supported by what he calls "science." He had examples before him of the deviations into which even the most ardent devotion can fall, when it is not allied with, and ruled by, a sane theology.'

Can the many fantastic and mutually incompatible theories of expiation and atonement, which have been grafted on to the Christian doctrine of divine incarnation, be regarded as indis­pensable elements in a 'sane theology'? 

I find it difficult to imagine how anyone who has looked into a history of these notions, as expounded, for example, by the author of the Epistle to the Hebrews, by Athanasius and Augustine, by Anseim and Luther, by Calvin and Grotius, can plausibly answer this ques­tion in the affirmative.

 In the present context, it will be enough to call attention to one of the bitterest of all the bitter ironies of history. For the Christ of the Gospels, lawyers seemed further from the Kingdom of Heaven, more hopelessly imper­vious to Reality, than almost any other class of human beings except the rich. 

But Christian theology, especially that of the Western churches, was the product of minds imbued with Jewish and Roman legalism. In all too many instances the immediate insights of the Avatar and the theocentric saint were rationalized into a system, not by philosophers, but by specu­lative barristers and metaphysical jurists.   
Why should what Abbot John Chapman calls 'the problem of reconciling (not merely uniting) Mysticism and Christianity' be so extremely difficult? 

Simply because so much Roman and Protestant thinking was done by those very lawyers whom Christ re­garded as being peculiarly incapable of understanding the true Nature of Things. 'The Abbot (Chapman is apparently refer­ring to Abbot Marmion) says St. John of the Cross is like a sponge full of Christianity. You can squeeze it all out, and the full mystical theory (in other words, the pure Perennial Philo­sophy) remains.67 
Consequently for fifteen years or so I hated St. John of the Cross and called him a Buddhist. I loved St. Teresa and read her over and over again. She is first a Chris­tian, only secondarily a mystic. Then I found I had wasted fifteen years, so far as prayer was concerned.'

Now see the meaning of these two sayings of Christ's. 
  • The one, 'No man cometh unto the Father but by me,' that is through my life. 
  • The other saying, 'No man cometh unto me except the Father draw him'; 
that is, he does not take my life upon him and follow after me, except he is moved and drawn of my Father, that is, of the Simple and Perfect Good, of which St. Paul saith, 'When that which is perfect is come, that which is in part shall be done away.'

Theologia Germanica

In other words, there must be imitation of Christ before there can be identification with the Father; and there must be essen­tial identity or likeness between the human spirit and the God who is Spirit in order that the idea of imitating the earthly behaviour of the incarnate Godhead should ever cross any­body's mind. 

Christian theologians speak of the possibility of 'deification,' but deny that there is identity of substance between spiritual Reality and the human spirit
In Vedanta and Maha­yana Buddhism, as also among the Sufis, spirit and Spirit are held to be the same substance; Atman is Brahman; That art thou.

When not enlightened, Buddhas are no other than ordinary beings; when there is enlightenment, ordinary beings at once turn into Buddhas.

Hid Neng

Every human being can thus become an Avatar by adoption, but not by his unaided efforts. 
He must be shown the way, and he must be aided by divine grace. 
That men and women may be thus instructed and helped, the Godhead assumes the form of an ordinary human being, who has to earn deliverance and enlightenment in the way that is prescribed by the divine Nature of Things—namely, by charity, by a total dying to self and a total, one-pointed awareness. 68    

Thus enlightened, the Avatar can reveal the way of enlightenment to others and help them actually to become what they already potentially are. 
Tel qu'en Lui-même enfin l'éternité le change.

('Such as into Himself at last eternity changes him'),
Mallarmé poem in honor of Edgar Allan Poe.

 And of course the eternity which transforms us into Ourselves is not the experience of mere persistence after bodily death. There will be no experience of timeless Reality then, unless there is the same or a similar knowledge within the world of time and matter. By precept and by example, the Avatar teaches that this transforming knowledge is possible, that all sentient beings are called to it and that, sooner or later, in one way or another, all must finally come to it.