Perennial Phil Ch 24 RITUAL, SYMBOL, SACRAMENT [8,4420]

Perennial Phil Ch 24 RITUAL, SYMBOL, SACRAMENT [8,4420]

의식, 상징, 성찬식 - 영원으로 통하는 문인가, 속박의 도구인가

ASWALA: Yajnavalkya, since everything connected with the sacrifice is pervaded by death and is subject to death, by what means can the sacrificer overcome death?

YAJNAVALKYA: By the knowledge of the identity between the sacrificer, the fire and the ritual word. For the ritual word is indeed the sacrificer, and the ritual word is the fire, and the fire, which is one with Brahman, is the sacrificer. This knowledge leads to liberation. This knowledge leads one beyond death.

Brihad Aranyaka Upanishad

IN other words, rites, sacraments, and ceremonials are valu­able to the extent that they remind those who take part in them of the true Nature of Things, remind them of what ought to be and (if only they would be docile to the immanent and transcendent Spirit) of what actually might be their own rela­tion to the world and its divine Ground. 

Theoretically any ritual or sacrament is as good as any other ritual or sacrament, provided always that the object symbolized be in fact some aspect of divine Reality and that the relation between symbol and fact be clearly defined and constant. 

1] In the same way, one language is theoretically as good as another.

 Human experi­ence can be thought about as effectively in Chinese as in English or French. But in practice Chinese is the best lan­guage for those brought up in China, English for those brought up in England and French for those brought up in France. It is, of course, much easier to learn the order of a rite and to understand its doctrinal significance than to master the intri­cacies of a foreign language.

1'] Nevertheless what has been said of language is true, in large measure, of religious ritual. For persons who have been brought up to think of God by means of one set of symbols, it is very hard to think of Him in terms of other and, in their eyes, unhallowed sets of words, cere­monies and images.   301  302 

The Lord Buddha then warned Subhuti, saying, 'Subhuti, do not think that the Tathagata ever considers in his own mind: I ought to enunciate a system of teaching for the elucidation of the Dharma. You should never cherish such a thought. And why? Because if any disciple harboured such a thought he would not only be misunderstanding the Tathagata's teaching, but he would be slandering him as well. Moreover, the expression "a system of teaching" has no meaning; for Truth (in the sense of Reality) cannot be cut up into pieces and arranged into a system. The words can only be used as a figure of speech.'

Diamond Sutra

But for all their inadequacy and their radical unlikeness to the facts to which they refer, words remain the most reliable and accurate of our symbols. 

Whenever we want to have a precise report of facts or ideas, we must resort to words. 

2] A ceremony, a carved or painted image, may convey more meanings and overtones of meaning in a smaller compass and with greater vividness than can a verbal formula; but it is liable to convey them in a form that is much more vague and indefinite. 

2'] One often meets, in modern literature, with the notion that medi­aeval churches were the architectural, sculptural and pictorial equivalents of a theological summa, and that mediaeval wor­shippers who admired the works of art around them were thereby enlightened on the subject of doctrine. 

This view was evidently not shared by the more earnest churchmen of the Middle Ages. Coulton cites the utterances of preachers who complained that congregations were getting entirely false ideas of Catholicism by looking at the pictures in the churches instead of listening to sermons. 

(Similarly, in our own day the Catholic Indians of Central America have evolved the wildest heresies by brooding on the carved and painted symbols with which the Conquistadors filled their churches.) 

St. Bernard's objection to the richness of Cluniac architecture, sculpture and ceremonial was motivated by intellectual as well as strictly moral considerations. 303 So great and marvellous a variety of divers forms meets the eye that one is tempted to read in the marbles rather than in the books, to pass the whole day looking at these carvings one after another rather than in meditating on the law of God.' 

Cluniac Reforms - Wikipediahttps://en.wikipedia.org › wiki › Cluniac_Reforms

The Cluniac Reforms were a series of changes within medieval monasticism of the Western Church focused on restoring the traditional monastic life, ...

‎Background · ‎Cluny Abbey · ‎Result · ‎The Cistercian Order

3] It is in imageless contemplation that the soul comes to the unitive knowledge of Reality; consequently, for those who, like St. Bernard and his Cistercians, are really concerned to achieve man's final end, the fewer distracting symbols the better.

Most men worship the gods because they want success in their worldly undertakings. This kind of material success can be gained very quickly (by such worship), here on earth.

Bagagavad-Gita

Among those who are purified by their good deeds there are four kinds of men who worship Me:

•  1] the world-weary,
•  2] the seeker for knowledge,
•  3] the seeker for happiness and
•  4] the man of spiritual discrimination.

feeling or indicating feelings of weariness, boredom, or cynicism as a result of long experience of life.  "a tired and slightly world-weary voice"

The man of discrimination is the highest of these. He is continually united with Me. He devotes himself to Me always, and to no other. For I am very dear to that man, and he to Me.

Certainly, all these are noble;

But the man of discrimination

I see as my very Self. 

For he alone loves Me 

Because I am Myself, 

The last and only goal 

Of his devoted heart.

Through many a long life 

His discrimination ripens; 

He makes Me his refuge, 

Knows that Brahman is all. 

How rare are such great ones!

Men whose discrimination has been blunted by worldly desires,

establish this or that ritual or cult and resort to various deities,

according to the impulse of their inborn nature.

But no matter what deity a devotee chooses to worship, if he has faith, 1 make his faith unwavering. Endowed with the faith I give him, he worships that deity and gets from it everything he prays for. In reality, I alone am the giver.

But these men of small understanding pray only for what is transient and perishable. The worshippers of the devas will go to the devas. Those who worship Me will come to Me.

Bkagavad-Gita

304 
If sacramental rites are constantly repeated in a spirit of faith and devotion, a more or less enduring effect is produced in the psychic medium, in which individual minds bathe and from which they have, so to speak, been crystallized out into per­sonalities more or less fully developed, 

according to the more or less perfect development of the bodies with which they are associated. 

(Of this psychic medium an eminent contempo­rary philosopher, Dr. C. D. Broad, has written, in an essay on telepathy contributed to the Proceedings of the Society for Psychical Research, as follows: 

'We must therefore consider seriously the possibility that a person's experience initiates more or less permanent modifications of structure or process in something which is neither his mind nor his brain. There is no reason to suppose that this substratum would be any­thing to which possessive adjectives, such as "mine" and "yours" and "his," could properly be applied, as they can be to minds and animated bodies.... 

Modifications which have been produced in the substratum by certain of M's past experi­ences are activated by N's present experiences or interests, and they become cause factors in producing or modifying N's later experiences.')  305  

Within this psychic medium or non-personal substratum of individual minds, something which we may think of metaphorically as a vortex persists as an independent exist­ence, possessing its own derived and secondary objectivity, so that, wherever the rites are performed, those whose faith and  devotion are sufficiently intense actually discover something out there,' as distinct from the subjective something in their own imaginations. 

And so long as this projected psychic entity is nourished by the faith and love of its worshippers, it will possess, not merely objectivity, but power to get people's prayers answered. 

Ultimately, of course, 'I alone am the giver,' in the sense that 

all this happens in accordance with the divine laws governing the universe in its psychic and spiritual, no less than in its material, aspects. 

Nevertheless, the devas (those imperfect forms under which, because of their own voluntary ignorance, men worship the divine Ground) may be thought of as relatively independent powers. 

The primitive notion that the gods feed on the sacrifices made to them is simply the crude expression of a profound truth. When their worship falls off, when faith and devotion lose their intensity, the devas sicken and finally die. 

Europe is full of old shrines, whose saints and Virgins and relics have lost the power and the second-hand psychic objectivity which they once possessed. Thus, when Chaucer lived and wrote, the deva called Thomas Becket was giving to any Canterbury pilgrim, who had suffi­cient faith, all the boons he could ask for. 

This once-powerful deity is now stone-dead; but there are still certain churches in the West, certain mosques and temples in the East, where even the most irreligious and un-psychic tourist cannot fail to be aware of some intensely 'numinous' presence. 

It would, of course, be a mistake to imagine that this presence is the presence of that God who is a Spirit and must be worshipped in spirit; it is rather the psychic presence of men's thoughts and feelings about the particular, limited form of God, to which they have resorted 'according to the impulse of their inborn nature'—thoughts and feelings projected into objectivity and haunting the sacred place in the same way as thoughts and feelings of another kind, but of equal intensity, haunt the scenes of some past suffering or crime. 

The presence in these consecrated buildings, the presence evoked by the performance of tradi­tional rites, the presence inherent in a sacramental object, name or formula—all these are real presences, 

but real presences, not of God or the Avatar, 

but of something which, though it may reflect the divine Reality, 

is yet less and other than it. 3o6 

Dukis Jesu memoria 

dan.s vera cordi gaudia 

sed super mel et omnia 

ejus dulcis praesentia.

'Sweet is the memory of Jesus, 

giving true joys to the heart; 

but sweeter beyond honey 

and all else is his presence.' 

This opening stanza of the famous twelfth-century hymn sum­marizes in fifteen words the relations subsisting between ritual and real presence and the character of the worshipper's reaction to each. 

Systematically cultivated memoria (a thing in itself full of sweetness) 

first contributes to the evocation, then results, for certain souls, in the immediate apprehension of praeseistia, which brings with it joys of a totally different and higher kind. 

This presence (whose projected objectivity is occasionally so complete as to be apprehensible not merely by the devout worshipper, but by more or less indifferent outsiders) is always that of the divine being who has been previously remembered, Jesus here, Krishna or Amitabha Buddha there.

The value of this practice (repetition of the name of Amitabha Buddha) is this.

So long as one person practises his method (of spirituality) and another practises a different method, they coun­terbalance one another and their meeting is just the same as their not meeting.

Whereas if two persons practise the same method, their mindfulness tends to become deeper and deeper, and they tend to remember each other and to develop affinities for each other, life after life.

Moreover, whoever recites the name of Amitabha Buddha, whether in the present time or in future time, will surely see the Buddha Amitabha and never become separated from him. By reason of that association, just as -one associating with a maker of perfumes becomes permeated with the same per­fumes, so he will become perfumed by Amitabha's compassion, and will become enlightened without resort to any other ex­pedient means.

Surangama Sutra

307
We see then that intense faith and devotion, coupled with perseverance by many persons in the same forms of worship or spiritual exercise, have a tendency to objectify the idea or memory which is their content and so to create, in some sort, a numinous real presence, which worshippers actually find 'out there' no less, and in quite another way, than 'in here.' 

In so far as this is the case, the ritualist is perfectly correct in attributing to his hallowed acts and words a power which, in another context, would be called magical. The mantram works, the sacrifice really does something, the sacrament confers grace ex opere operato: these are, or rather may be, matters of direct experience, facts which anyone who chooses to fulfil the neces­sary conditions can verify empirically for himself. But the grace conferred ex opere operato is not always spiritual grace and the hallowed acts and formulae have a power which is not necessarily from God. Worshippers can, and very often do, get grace and power from one another and from the faith and devotion of their predecessors, projected into independent psychic existences that are hauntingly associated with certain places, words and acts. 

A great deal of ritualistic religion is not spirituality, but occultism, a refined and well-meaning kind of white magic. Now, just as there is no harm in art, say, or science, but a great deal of good, provided always that these activities are not regarded as ends, but simply as means to the final end of all life, so too there is no harm in white magic, 

but the possibilities of much good, so long as it is treated, not as true religion, but as one of the roads to true religion—an effective way of reminding people with a certain kind of psycho-physical make-up that there is a God, 'in knowledge of whom standeth their eternal life.'    308   

 If ritualistic white magic is regarded as being in itself true religion; if the real presences it evokes are taken to be God in Himself and not the projec­tions of human thoughts and feelings about God or even about something less than God; and if the sacramental rites are per­formed and attended for the sake of the 'spiritual sweetness' experienced and the powers and advantages conferred—then there is idolatry. This idolatry is, at its best, a very lofty and, in many ways, beneficent kind of religion. But the conse­quences of worshipping God as anything but Spirit and in any way except in spirit and in truth are necessarily undesirable in this sense—that they lead only to a partial salvation and delay the soul's ultimate reunion with the eternal Ground.

That very large numbers of men and women have an in­eradicable desire for rites and ceremonies is clearly demon­strated by the history of religion. Almost all the Hebrew prophets were opposed to ritualism. 'Rend your hearts and not your garments.' 'I desire mercy and not sacrifice.' 'I hate, I despise your feasts; I take no delight in your solemn assemblies.' 

And yet, in spite of the fact that what the prophets wrote was regarded as divinely inspired, the Temple at Jerusalem continued to be, for hundreds of years after their time, the centre of a religion of rites, ceremonials and blood sacrifice. 

(It may be remarked in passing that the shed­ding of blood, one's own or that of animals or other human beings, seems to be a peculiarly efficacious way of constrain­ing the 'occult' or psychic world to answer petitions and con­fer supernormal powers. If this is a fact, as from the anthropo­logical and antiquarian evidence it appears to be, it would supply yet another cogent reason for avoiding animal sacri­fices, savage bodily austerities and even, since thought is a form of action, that imaginative gloating over spilled blood which is so common in certain Christian circles.) 

What the Jews did in spite of their prophets, Christians have done in spite of Christ. The Christ of the Gospels is a preacher and not a dispenser of sacraments or performer of rites; he speaks against vain repetitions; he insists on the supreme importance of private worship; he has no use for sacrifices and not much use for the Temple. But this did not prevent historic Chris­tianity from going its own, all too human, way. 

A precisely similar development took place in Buddhism.  For the Buddha  of the Pall scriptures, ritual was one of the fetters holding back the soul from enlightenment and liberation. Nevertheless, the religion he founded has made full use of ceremonies, vain repetitions and sacramental rites.  309 

There would seem to be two main reasons for the observed developments of the historical religions. 

• First, most people do not want spirituality or deliverance, but rather a religion that gives them emotional satisfactions, answers to prayer, super­normal powers and partial salvation in some sort of posthu­mous heaven. 
• Second, some of those few who do desire spirit­uality and deliverance find that, for them, the most effective means to those ends are ceremonies, 'vain repetitions' and sacramental rites. 

It is by participating in these acts and utter­ing these formulae 

that they are most powerfully reminded of the eternal Ground of all being; 

it is by immersing themselves in the symbols that they can most easily come through to that which is symbolized. 

Every thing, event or thought is a point of intersection between creature and Creator, between a more or less distant manifestation of God and a ray, so to speak, of the unmanifest Godhead; 

every thing, event or thought can therefore be made the doorway through which a soul may pass out of time into eternity. That is why ritualistic and sacra­mental religion can lead to deliverance. 

But at the same time every human being loves power and self-enhancement, and every hallowed ceremony, form of words or sacramental rite is a channel through which power can flow out of the fascinating psychic universe into the universe of embodied selves. That is why ritualistic and sacramental religion can also lead away from deliverance.

There is another disadvantage inherent in any system of organized sacramentalism, and that is that it gives to the priestly caste a power which it is all too natural for them to abuse. In a society which has been taught that salvation is exclusively or mainly through certain sacraments, and that these sacraments can be administered effectively only by a pro­fessional priesthood, that professional priesthood will possess an enormous coercive power. 310 

The possession of such power is a standing temptation to use it for individual satisfaction and corporate aggrandizement. To a temptation of this kind, if repeated often enough, most human beings who are not saints almost inevitably succumb. That is why Christ taught his disciples to pray that they should not be led into temptation. 

This is, or should be, the guiding principle of all social reform —to organize the economic, political and social relationships between human beings in such a way that there shall be, for any given individual or group within the society, a minimum of temptations to covetousness, pride, cruelty and lust for power. 

Men and women being what they are, it is only by reducing the number and intensity of temptations that human societies can be, in some measure at least, delivered from evil. Now, the sort of temptations to which a priestly caste is exposed in a society that accepts a predominantly sacramental religion are such that none but the most saintly persons can be expected consistently to resist them. 

What happens when ministers of religion are led into these temptations is clearly illustrated by the history of the Roman Church. 

Because Catholic Chris­tianity taught a version of the Perennial Philosophy, it produced a succession of great saints. But because the Perennial Philo­sophy was overlaid with an excessive amount of sacramentalism and with an idolatrous preoccupation with things in time, the less saintly members of its hierarchy were exposed to enormous and quite unnecessary temptations and, duly suc­cumbing to them, launched out into persecution, simony, power politics, secret diplomacy, high finance and collabora­tion with despots.

I very much doubt whether, since the Lord by his grace brought me into the faith of his dear Son, I have ever broken bread or drunk wine, even in the ordinary course of life, without remem­brance of, and some devout feeling regarding, the broken body and the blood-shedding of my dear Lord and Saviour.

Stephen Grellet

We have seen that, 

when they are promoted to be the central core of organized religious worship, ritualism and sacramentalism are by no means unmixed blessings. 311 

But that the whole of a man's workaday life should be transformed by him into 

a kind of continuous ritual, 

• that every object in the world around him should be regarded as a symbol of the world's eternal Ground, 
• that all his actions should be performed sacramentally —this would seem to be wholly desirable. 

All the masters of the spiritual life, 

from the authors of the Upanishads to Socrates, from Buddha to St. Bernard, 

are agreed 

• that without self-knowledge there cannot be adequate knowledge of God,
• that without a constant recollectedness there can be no complete deliverance. 

The man who has learnt to regard 

• things as symbols, 
• persons as temples of the Holy Spirit and 
• actions as sacraments, 

is a man who has learned constantly to remind himself 

• who he is, 
• where he stands in relation to the universe and its Ground, 
• how he should behave towards his fellows and 
• what he must do to come to his final end.

'Because of this indwelling of the Logos,' writes Mr. Kenneth Saunders in his valuable study of the Fourth Gospel, the Gita and the Lotus Sutra, 

'all things have a reality. They are sacra­ments, not illusions like the phenomenal word of the Vedanta.' 

That the Logos is in things, lives and conscious minds, and 

they in the Logos, 

was taught much more emphatically and explicitly by the Vedantists than by the author of the Fourth Gospel; and 

the same idea is, of course, basic in the theology of Taoism. 

But though all things in fact exist 

at the inter­section between a divine manifestation and a ray of the unmanifest Godhead, it by no means follows that everyone always knows that this is so. 

On the contrary, the vast majority of human beings believe that their own selfness and the objects around them possess a reality in themselves, wholly independ­ent of the Logos. 

This belief leads them to identify their being with their sensations, cravings and private notions, and in its turn this self-identification with what they are not effectively walls them off from divine influence and the very possibility of deliverance. To most of us on most occasions 

things are not symbols and actions are not sacramental; and 

we have to teach ourselves, consciously and deliberately, to remember that they are.  312 

The world is imprisoned in its own activity, except when actions are performed as worship of God. Therefore you must perform every action sacramentally (as if it were yajncz, the sacrifice that, in its divine Logos-essence, is identical with the Godhead to whom it is offered), and be free from all attachment to results.

Bhagavad-Gita

Precisely similar teachings are found in Christian writers, who recommend 

• that persons and even things should be regarded as temples of the Holy Ghost
•  and that everything done or suffered should be constantly 'offered to God.'

It is hardly necessary to add that this process of conscious sacramentalization can be applied only to such actions as are not intrinsically evil. 

Somewhat unfortunately, the Gita was not originally published as an independent work, but as a theo­logical digression within an epic poem; and since, like most epics, the Mahabharata is largely concerned with the exploits of warriors, it is primarily in relation to warfare that the Gita's advice to act with non-attachment and for God's sake only is given. 

Now, war is accompanied and followed, among other things, by a widespread dissemination of anger and hatred, pride, cruelty and fear. But, it may be asked, is it possible (the Nature of Things being what it is) to sacramentalize actions whose psychological by-products are so completely God-eclipsing as are these passions?

 The Buddha of the Pali scrip­tures would certainly have answered this question in the nega­tive. So would the Lao Tzu of the Tao Teh King. So would the Christ of the Synoptic Gospels. The Krishna of the Gita (who is also, by a kind of literary accident, the Krishna of the Mahabharata) gives an affirmative answer. 

But this affirma­tive answer, it should be remembered, is hedged around with limiting conditions. Non-attached slaughter is recommended only to those who are warriors by caste, and to whom warfare is a duty and vocation.313 

But what is duty or dharma for the Kshatriya is adharma and forbidden to the Brahman; nor is it any part of the normal vocation or caste duty of the mercantile and labouring classes. 

Any confusion of castes, any assump­tion by one man of another man's vocation and duties of state, is always, say the Hindus, a moral evil and a menace to social stability. Thus, it is the business of the Brahmans to fit them­selves to be seers, so that they may be able to explain to their fellow-men the nature of the universe, of man's last end and of the way to liberation. 

When soldiers or administrators, or usurers, or manufacturers or workers usurp the functions of the Brahmans and formulate a philosophy of life in accordance with their variously distorted notions of the universe, then society is thrown into confusion. 

Similarly, confusion reigns when the Brahman, the man of non-coercive spiritual author­ity, assumes the coercive power of the Kshatriya, or when the Kshatriya's job of ruling is usurped by bankers and stock­jobbers, or finally when the warrior caste's dizarma of fighting is imposed, by conscription, on Brahman, Vaisya and Sudra alike. 

The history of Europe during the later Middle Ages and Renaissance is largely a history of the social confusions that arise when large numbers of those who should be seers aban­don spiritual authority in favour of money and political power. 

And contemporary history is the hideous record of what happens when political bosses, business men or class-conscious proletarians assume the Brahman's function of formulating a philosophy of life; 

when usurers dictate policy and debate the issues of war and peace; and 

when the warrior's caste duty is imposed on-all and sundry, regardless of psycho-physical make­up and vocation.

====

'numinous'   ˈn(y)o͞omənəs

Adjective

1

having a strong religious or spiritual quality; indicating or suggesting the presence of a divinity.

the strange, numinous beauty of this ancient landmark

Synonyms:

spiritual religious divine holy sacred mysterious otherworldly unearthly awe-inspiring transcendent

===

Perennial Phil Ch 8 RELIGION AND TEMPERAMENT

Perennial Phil. Ch 8. RELIGION AND TEMPERAMENT  [11, 584]

IT seems best at this point to turn back for a moment from ethics to psychology, where a very important problem awaits us—a problem to which the exponents of the Perennial Philo­sophy have given a great deal of attention. 

What precisely is the relation between individual constitution and temperament on the one hand and the kind and degree of spiritual knowledge on the other? 

The materials for a comprehensively accurate answer to this question are not available—except, perhaps, in the form of that incommunicable science, based upon intuition and long practice, that exists in the minds of experienced 'spiritual directors.' But the answer that can be given, though incomplete, is highly significant.

All knowledge, as we have seen, is a function of being. Or, to phrase the same idea in scholastic terms, the thing known is in the knower according to the mode of the knower. In the Introduction reference was made to the effect upon knowledge of changes of being along what may be called its vertical axis, in the direction of sanctity or its opposite. But there is also variation in the horizontal plane.

 Congenitally by psycho-physical constitution, each one of us is born into a certain position on this horizontal plane. It is a vast territory, still imperfectly explored, a continent stretching all the way 

from imbecility to genius, 

from shrinking weakness to aggressive strength, 

from cruelty to Pickwickian kindliness, naive, generous

from self-revealing sociability to taciturn misanthropy and love of soli­tude, 

from an almost frantic lasciviousness to an almost Un-tempted continence. 

From any point on this huge expanse of possible human nature an individual can move almost indefi­nitely up or down, 

towards union with the divine Ground of his own and all other beings, 

or towards the last, the infernal extremes of separateness and selfhood. 

But where horizontal movement is concerned there is far less freedom. 

It is impos­sible for one kind of physical constitution to transform itself into another kind; and 

the particular temperament associated with a given physical constitution can be modified only within narrow limits. 

With the best will in the world and the best social environment, 

all that anyone can hope to do is to make the best of his congenital psycho-physical make-up; to change the fundamental patterns of constitution and temperament is beyond his power.

In the course of the last thirty centuries many attempts have been made to work out a classification system in terms of which human differences could be measured and described. 

For example, 

1. there is the ancient Hindu method of classifying people according to the psycho-physico-social categories of caste. 
2. There are the primarily medical classifications associ­ated with the name of Hippocrates, classifications in terms of two main 'habits'—the phthisic and the apoplectic—or of the four humours (blood, phlegm, black bile and yellow bile) and the four qualities (hot, cold, moist and dry). 
3. More recently there have been the various physiognomic systems of the eighteenth and early nineteenth centuries; the crude and merely psychological dichotomy of introversion and extra­version;
4. the more complete, but still inadequate, psycho-physical classifications proposed by Kretschmer, Stockard, Viola and others; and
5.  finally the system, more comprehensive, more flexibly adequate to the complex facts than all those which preceded it, worked out by Dr. William Sheldon and his collaborators.

In the present section our concern is with classifications of human differences in relation to the problems of the spiritual life. Traditional systems will be described and illustrated, and the findings of the Perennial Philosophy will be compared with the conclusions reached by the most recent scientific research.

===

In the West, the traditional Catholic classification of human beings is based upon the Gospel anecdote of Martha and Mary. 

The way of Martha is the way of salvation through action, 

the way of Mary is the way through contemplation. 

Following Aristotle, who in this as in many other matters was in accord with the Perennial Philosophy, 

Catholic thinkers have regarded contemplation (the highest term of which is the unitive know­ledge of the Godhead) as man's final end, and therefore have always held that Mary's was indeed the better way.

Significantly enough, it is in essentially similar terms that Dr. Radin classifies and (by implication) evaluates primitive human beings in so far as they are philosophers and religious devotees. 

For him there is no doubt that the higher mono­theistic forms of primitive religion are created (or should one rather say, with Plato, discovered) by people belonging to the first of the two great psycho-physical classes of human beings 

—the men of thought. To those belonging to the other class, the men of action, is due the creation or discovery of the lower, unphilosophical, polytheistic kinds of religion.

This simple dichotomy is a classification of human differ­ences that is valid so far as it goes. But like all such dichoto­mies, whether physical (like Hippocrates' division of humanity into those of phthisic and those of apoplectic habit) or psycho­logical (like Jung's classification in terms of introvert and extravert), 

this grouping of the religious 

into those who think and those who act, 

those who follow the way of Martha and those who follow the way of Mary, 

is inadequate to the facts. 

And of course no director of souls, no head of a religious organization, is ever, in actual practice, content with this all too simple system. 

Underlying the best Catholic writing on prayer and the best Catholic practice in the matter of recog­nizing vocations and assigning duties, 

we sense the existence of an implicit and unformulated classification of human differ­ences more complete and more realistic than the explicit dichotomy of action and contemplation.
==
In Hindu thought the outlines of this completer and more adequate classification are clearly indicated. The ways leading to the delivering union with God are not two, but three—

• the way of works, 
• the way of knowledge and 
• the way of devotion. 

In the Bhagavad-Gita Sri Krishna instructs Arjuna in all three paths—

• liberation through action without attachment; 
• liberation through knowledge of the Self and the Absolute Ground of all being with which it is identical; and 
• liberation through intense devotion to the personal God or the divine incarnation.

Do without attachment the work you have to do;

 for a man who does his work without attachment attains the Supreme Goal verily. By action alone men like Janaka attained perfection.

But there is also the way of Mary.

Freed from passion, fear and anger,

absorbed in Me, taking refuge in Me, and purified by the fires of Knowledge, many have become one with my Being.

And again:

Those who have completely controlled their senses and

are of even mind under all conditions

and thus contemplate the Im­perishable, the Ineffable, the Unmanifest, the Omnipresent, the Incomprehensible, the Eternal—they, devoted to the welfare of all beings, attain Me alone and none else.

But the path of contemplation is not easy.

The task of those whose minds are set on the Unmanifest is the more difficult;

for, to those who are in the body, the realization of the Unmanifest is hard. But those who consecrate all their actions to Me (as the personal God, or as the divine Incarnation), who regard Me as the supreme Goal, who worship Me and medi­tate upon Me with single-minded concentration—for those whose minds are thus absorbed in Me, I become ere long the Saviour from the world's ocean of mortality.

===

These three ways of deliverance are precisely correlated with the three categories, in terms of which Sheldon has worked out what is, without question, the best and most adequate classification of human differences. 

Human beings, he has shown, vary continuously between the viable extremes of a tri-polar system; and physical and psychological measure­ments can be devised, whereby any given individual may be accurately located in relation to the three co-ordinates. Or we can put the matter differently and say that any given individual is a mixture, in varying proportions, of three physical and three closely related psychological components. 

The strength of each component can be measured according to empirically determined procedures. To the three physical components Sheldon gives the names of endomorphy 내배엽 , mesomorphy 중형  and ectomorphy 외배엽 . 

The individual with a high degree of endo-morphy is predominantly soft and rounded and may easily become grossly fat. 

The high mesomorph is hard, big-boned and strong-muscled. 

The high ectomorph is slender and has small bones and stringy, weak, unemphatic muscles. 

The endomorph has a huge gut, a gut that may be more than twice as heavy and twice as long as that of the extreme ectomorph. In a real sense his or her body is built around the digestive tract. The centrally significant fact of mesomorphic physique, on the other hand, is the powerful musculature, while that of the ectomorph is the over-sensitive and (since the ratio of body surface to mass is higher in ectomorphs than in either of the other types) relatively unprotected nervous system.

With endomorphic constitution is closely correlated a tem­peramental pattern, which Sheldon calls viscerotonia. Signifi­cant among the viscerotonic traits are love of food and, characteristically, love of eating in common; love of comfort and luxury; love of ceremoniousness; indiscriminate amia­bility and love of people as such; fear of solitude and craving for company; uninhibited expression of emotion; love of childhood, in the form of nostalgia towards one's own past and in an intense enjoyment of family life; craving for affec­tion and social support, and need of people when in trouble. The temperament that is related to mesomorphy is called somatotonia. In this the dominating traits are love of muscular activity, aggressiveness and lust for power; indifference to pain; callousness in regard to other people's feelings; a love of combat and competitiveness; a high degree of physical courage; a nostalgic feeling, not for childhood, but for youth, the period of maximum muscular power; a need for activity when in trouble.

From the foregoing descriptions it will be seen how inade­quate is the Jungian conception of extraversion, as a simple antithesis to introversion. 

Extraversion is not simple; it is of two radically different kinds. 

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There is the emotional, sociable extraversion of the viscerotonic endomorph—the person who is always seeking company and telling everybody just what he feels.

And there is the extraversion of the big-muscled soma-totonic—the person who looks outward on the world as a place where he can exercise power, where he can bend people to his will and shape things to his heart's desire. 

One is the genial extraversion of the salesman, the Rotarian good mixer, the liberal Protestant clergyman. 

The other is the extraversion 

• of the engineer who works off his lust for power on things, 
• of the sportsman and the professional blood-and-iron soldier, 
• of the ambitious business executive and politician, 
• of the dictator, whether in the home or at the head of a state.

With cerebrotonia, the temperament that is correlated with ectomorphic physique, we leave the genial world of Pickwick, the strenuously competitive world of Hotspur, and pass into an entirely different and somewhat disquieting kind of universe —that of Hamlet and Ivan Karamazov. 

The extreme cerebrotonic is the over-alert, over-sensitive introvert, 

who is more concerned with what goes on behind his eyes—with the con­structions of thought and imagination, with the variations of feeling and consciousness—than with that external world, to which, in their different ways, the viscerotonic and the soma-totonic pay their primary attention and allegiance. 

Cerebro-tonics have little or no desire to dominate, nor do they feel the viscerotonic's indiscriminate liking for people as people; 

on the contrary they want to live and let live, and their passion for privacy is intense. 

Solitary confinement, the most terrible punishment that can be inflicted on the soft, round, genial per­son, is, for the cerebrotonic, no punishment at all. 

For him the ultimate horror is the boarding school and the barracks. 

In company cerebrotonics are nervous and shy, .tensely inhibited and unpredictably moody. (It is a significant fact that no ex­treme cerebrotonic has ever been a good actor or actress.) 

Cerebrotonics hate to slam doors or raise their voices, and suffer acutely from the unrestrained bellowing and trampling of the somatotonic. 

Their manner is restrained, and when it comes to expressing their feelings they are extremely reserved. 

The emotional gush of the viscerotonic strikes them as offen­sively shallow and even insincere, nor have they any patience with viscerotonic ceremoniousness and love of luxury and magnificence. They do not easily form habits and find it hard to adapt their lives to the routines which come so naturally to somatotonics. 

Owing to their over-sensitiveness, cerebrotonics are often extremely, almost insanely sexual; but they are hardly ever tempted to take to drink—for alcohol, which heightens the natural aggressiveness of the somatotonic and increases the relaxed amiability of the viscerotonic, merely makes them feel ill and depressed. 

Each in his own way, the viscerotonic and the somatotonic are well adapted to the world they live in; but the introverted cerebrotonic is in some sort incommensurable with the things and people and insti­tutions that surround him.

 Consequently a remarkably high proportion of extreme cerebrotonics fail to make good as normal citizens and average pillars of society. But if many fail, many also become abnormal on the higher side of the average. In universities, monasteries and research laboratories —wherever sheltered conditions are provided for those whose small guts and feeble muscles do not permit them to eat or fight their way through the ordinary rough and tumble—the percentage of outstandingly gifted and accomplished cerebro-tonics will almost always be very high. Realizing the im­portance of this extreme, over-evolved and scarcely viable type of human being, all civilizations have provided in one way or another for its protection.

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In the light of these descriptions we can understand more clearly the Bhagavad-Gita's classification of paths to salvation.

The path of devotion is the path naturally followed by the per­son in whom the viscerotonic component is high. 

His inborn tendency to externalize the emotions he spontaneously feels in regard to persons can be disciplined and canalized, so that a merely animal gregariousness and a merely human kindliness become transformed into charity—devotion to the personal God and universal goodwill and compassion towards all sentient beings.

The path of works is for those whose extraversion is of the somatotonic kind, those who in all circumstances feel the need to 'do something.' In the unregenerate somatotonic this craving for action is always associated with aggressiveness, self-assertion and the lust for power. 

For the born Kskatrya, or warrior-ruler, the task, as Krishna explains to Arjuna, is to get rid of those fatal accompaniments to the love of action and to work without regard to the fruits of work, in a state of complete non-attachment to self. Which is, of course, like everything else, a good deal easier said than done.

Finally, there is the way of knowledge, through the modi­fication of consciousness, until it ceases to be ego-centred and ]ecomes centred in and united with the divine Ground. 

This is the way to which the extreme cerebrotonic is naturally drawn. His special discipline consists in the mortification of his innate tendency towards introversion for its own sake, towards thought and imagination and self-analysis as ends in themselves rather than as means towards the ultimate tran­scendence of phantasy and discursive reasoning in the timeless act of pure intellectual intuition.

Within the general population, as we have seen, variation is continuous, and in most people the three components are fairly evenly mixed.

Those exhibiting extreme predominance of any one component are relatively rare. And yet, in spite of their rarity, it is by the thought-patterns characteristic of these ex­treme individuals that theology and ethics, at any rate on the theoretical side, have been mainly dominated. 

The reason for this is simple. Any extreme position is more uncompromis­ingly clear and therefore more easily recognized and understood than the intermediate positions, which are the natural thought-pattern of the person in whom the constituent components of personality are evenly balanced. 

These intermediate positions, it should be noted, do not in any sense contain or reconcile the extreme positions; they are merely other thought-patterns added to the list of possible systems. The construction of an all-embracing system of metaphysics, ethics and psychology is a task that can never be accomplished by any single individual, for the sufficient reason that he is an individual with one par­ticular kind of constitution and temperament and therefore capable of knowing only according to the mode of his own being. Hence the advantages inherent in what may be called the anthological approach to truth.

The Sanskrit dharma—one of the key words in Indian formulations of the Perennial Philosophy—has two principal meanings. 

The dharma of an individual is, first of all, 1] is essential nature, the intrinsic law of his being and develop­ment. 

But dharma also signifies 2] the law of righteousness and piety. 

--

In Hinduism, dharma is the religious and moral law governing individual conduct and is one of the four ends of life. ... In Buddhism, dharma is the doctrine, the universal truth common to all individuals at all times, proclaimed by the Buddha

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The implications of this double meaning are clear: 

a man's duty, how he ought to live, what he ought to believe and what he ought to do about his beliefs—these things are 

conditioned by his essential nature, his constitution and tem­perament. 

Going a good deal further than do the Catholics, with their doctrine of vocations, the Indians admit the right of individuals with different dharmas 

to worship different aspects or conceptions of the divine. 

Hence the almost total absence, among Hindus and Buddhists, 

of bloody persecutions, religious wars and proselytizing imperialism.

It should, however, be remarked that, within its own ecclesi­astical fold, Catholicism has been almost as tolerant as Hindu­ism and Mahayana Buddhism. 

Nominally one, each of these religions consists, in fact, of a number of very different reli­gions, covering the whole gamut of thought and behaviour from fetishism, through polytheism, through legalistic mono­theism, through devotion to the sacred humanity of the Avatar, to the profession of the Perennial Philosophy and the practice of a purely spiritual religion that seeks the unitive knowledge of the Absolute Godhead. 

These tolerated religions-within-a-religion are not, of course, regarded as equally valuable or equally true. 

To worship polytheistically maybe one's dharma; nevertheless the fact remains that man's final end is the unitive knowledge of the Godhead, and 

all the historical formulations of the Perennial Philosophy are agreed that every human being ought, and perhaps in some way or other actually will, achieve that end. 

'All souls,' writes Father Garrigou-Lagrange, 'receive a general remote call to the mystical life; and if all were faithful in avoiding, as they should, not merely mortal but venial sin, if they were, each according to his condition, docile to the Holy Ghost, and if they lived long enough, a day would come when they would receive the proximate and efficacious vocation to a high perfection and to the mystical life properly so called.

' With this statement Hindu and Buddhist theologians would probably agree; 

but they would add that every soul will in fact eventually attain this 'high perfection.' 

All are called, but in any given generation few are chosen, because few choose themselves. 

But the series of conscious existences, corporeal or incorporeal, is indefinitely long; there is therefore time and opportunity for everyone to learn the necessary lessons. Moreover, there will always be helpers. 

For periodi­cally there are 'descents' of the Godhead into physical form; and at all times there are future Buddhas ready, on the threshold of reunion with the Intelligible Light, to renounce the bliss of immediate liberation in order to return as saviours and teachers again and again into the world of suffering and time and evil, until at last every sentient being shall have been delivered into eternity.

---

The practical consequences of this doctrine are clear enough. 

The lower forms of religion, whether emotional, active or intellectual, are never to be accepted as final. 

True, each of them comes naturally to persons of a certain kind of constitution and temperament; 

but the dharma or duty of any given individual is not to remain complacently fixed in the imperfect religion that happens to suit him; 

it is rather to transcend it, not by impossibly denying the modes of thought, behaviour and feeling that are natural to him, but by making use of them, so that by means of nature he may pass beyond nature. 

Thus the introvert uses "discrimination" (in the Indian phrase), and so learns to distinguish the mental activities of the ego from the principial Consciousness of the Self, which is akin to, or identical with, the divine Ground. 

The emotional extravert learns to 'hate his father and mother' (in other words, to give up his selfish attachment to the pleasures of indiscriminately loving and being loved), concentrates his devotion on the per­sonal or incarnate aspect of God, and comes at last to love the Absolute Godhead by an act, no longer of feeling, but of will illuminated by knowledge. 

And finally there is that other kind of extravert, whose concern is not with the pleasures of giving or receiving affection, but with the satisfaction of his lust for power over things, events and persons. 

Using his own nature to transcend his own nature, he must follow the path laid down in the Bhagavad-Gita for the bewildered Arjuna—the path of work without attachment to the fruits of work, the path of what St. François de Sales calls 'holy indifference,' the path that leads through the forgetting of self to the discovery of the Self.

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In the course of history it has often happened that one or other of the imperfect religions has been taken too seriously and regarded as good and true in itself, instead of as a means to the ultimate end of all religion. 

The effects of such mistakes are often disastrous. For example, many Protestant sects have insisted on the necessity, or at least the extreme desirability, of a violent conversion. 

But violent conversion, as Sheldon has pointed out, is a phenomenon confined almost exclusively to persons with a high degree of somatotonia. 

These persons are so intensely extraverted as to be quite unaware of what is hap­pening in the lower levels of their minds. If for any reason their attention comes to be turned inwards, the resulting self-knowledge, because of its novelty and strangeness, presents itself with the force and quality of a revelation and their metwwia, or change of mind, is sudden and thrilling. 

This change may be to religion, or it may be to something else for example, to psycho-analysis. To insist upon the necessity of violent conversion as the only means to salvation is about as sensible as it would be to insist upon the necessity of having a large face, heavy bones and powerful muscles. To those natujally subject to this kind of emotional upheaval, the doctrine that makes salvation dependent on conversion gives a complacency that is quite fatal to spiritual growth, while those who are incapable of it are filled with a no less fatal despair.

 Other examples of inadequate theologies based upon psycho­logical ignorance could easily be cited. 

One remembers, for instance, the sad case of Calvin, the cerebrotonic who took his own intellectual constructions so seriously that he lost all sense of reality, both human and spiritual. 

And then there is our liberal Protestantism, that predominantly viscerotonic heresy, which seems to have forgotten the very existence of the Father, Spirit and Logos and equates Christianity with an emotional attachment to Christ's humanity or (to use the currently popular phrase) 'the personality of Jesus,' worshipped idola­trously as though there were no other God. 

Even within all-comprehensive Catholicism we constantly hear complaints of the ignorant and self-centred directors, who impose upon the souls under their charge a religious dharma wholly unsuited to their nature—with results which writers such as St. John of the Cross describe as wholly pernicious. 

We see, then, that it is natural for us to think of God as possessed of the qualities which our temperament tends to make us perceive in Him; but unless nature finds a way of transcending itself by means of itself, we are lost.

 In the last analysis Philo is quite right in saying that those who do not conceive God purely and simply as the One injure, not God of course, but themselves and, along with themselves, their fellows.

The way of knowledge comes most naturally to persons whose temperament is predominantly cerebrotonic. By this I do not mean that the following of this way is easy for the cere-brotonic. His specially besetting sins are just as difficult to overcome as are the sins which beset the power-loving soma-totonic and the extreme viscerotonic with his gluttony for food and comfort and social approval.

 Rather I mean that the idea that such a way exists and can be followed (either by discrimin­ation, or through non-attached work and one-pointed devo­tion) is one which spontaneously occurs to the cerebrotonic. 

At all levels of culture he is the natural monotheist; and this natural monotheist, as Dr. Radin's examples of primitive theo­logy clearly show, is often a monotheist of the tat tvam asi, inner-light school. Persons committed by their temperament to one or other of the two kinds of extraversion are natural polytheists. 

But natural polytheists can, without much diffi­culty, be convinced of the theoretical superiority of mono­theism. The nature of human reason is such that there is an intrinsic plausibility about any hypothesis which seeks to explain the manifold in terms of unity, to reduce apparent multiplicity to essential identity. 

And from this theoretical monotheism the half-converted polytheist can, if he chooses, go on (through practices suitable to his own particular tem­perament) to the actual realization of the divine Ground of his own and all other beings. 

He can, I repeat, and sometimes he actually does. But very often he does not. There are many theoretical monotheists whose whole life and every action prove that in reality they are still what their temperament inclines them to be—polytheists, worshippers not of the one God they sometimes talk about, but of the many gods, national­istic and technological, financial and familial, to whom in practice they pay all their allegiance.

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In Christian art the Saviour has almost invariably been represented as slender, small-boned, unemphatically muscled. Large, powerful Christs are a rather shocking exception to a very ancient rule. Of Rubens' crucifixions William Blake contemptuously wrote:

I understood Christ was a carpenter

And not a brewer's servant, my good sir.

In a word, the traditional Jesus is thought of as a man of predominantly ectomorphic physique and therefore, by impli­cation, of predominantly cerebrotonic temperament. The central core of primitive Christian doctrine confirms the essen­tial correctness of the iconographic tradition.

 The religion of the Gospels is what we should expect from a cerebrotonic—not, of course, from any cerebrotonic, but from one who had used the psycho-physical peculiarities of his own nature to transcend nature, who had followed his particular dharma to its spiritual goal.

 The insistence that 

• the Kingdom of Heaven is within; 
• the ignoring of ritual; 
• the slightly contemptuous attitude towards legalism, 
• towards the ceremonial routines of organized religion, 
• towards hallowed days and places; 
• the general other-worldliness; 
• the emphasis laid upon restraint, not merely of overt action, 
• but even of desire and unexpressed intention; 
• the indifference to the splendours of material civil­ization and the love of poverty as one of the greatest of goods; 
• the doctrine that non-attachment must be carried even into the sphere of family relationships and that even devotion to the highest goals of merely human ideals, even the righteousness of the Scribes and Pharisees, may be idolatrous distractions from the love of God

—all these are characteristically cerebrotonic ideas, such as would never have occurred spontaneously to the extraverted power lover or the equally extraverted viscerotonic.



Primitive Buddhism is no less predominantly cerebrotonic than primitive Christianity, and so is Vedanta, the metaphysi­cal discipline which lies at the heart of Hinduism. 

Confucian­ism, on the contrary, is a mainly viscerotonic system—familial, ceremonious and thoroughly this-worldly. And in Moham­medanism we find a system which incorporates strongly soma-totonic elements. Hence Islam's black record of holy wars and persecutions—a record comparable to that of later Christian­ity, after that religion had so far compromised with unregener­ate somatotonia as to call its ecclesiastical organization 'the Church Militant.'

So far as the achievement of man's final end is concerned, it is as much of a handicap to be an extreme cerebrotonic or an extreme viscerotonic as it is to be an extreme somatotonic. But whereas the cerebrotonic and the viscerotonic cannot do much harm except to themselves and those in immediate contact with them, the extreme somatotonic, with his native aggres­siveness, plays havoc with whole societies. 

From one point of view civilization may be defined as a complex of religious, legal and educational devices for preventing extreme somatotonics from doing too much mischief, and for directing their irre­pressible energies into socially desirable channels. 

Confucian­ism and Chinese culture have sought to achieve this end by inculcating filial piety, good manners and an amiably viscero-tonic epicureanism—the whole reinforced somewhat incon­gruously by the cerebrotonic spirituality and restraints of Buddhism and classical Taoism. 

In India the caste system represents an attempt to subordinate military, political and financial power to spiritual authority; and the education given to all classes still insists so strongly upon the fact that man's final end is unitive knowledge of God that even at the present time, even after nearly two hundred years of gradually acceler­ating Europeanization, successful somatotonics will, in middle life, give up wealth, position and power to end their days as humble seekers after enlightenment. 

In Catholic Europe, as in India, there was an effort to subordinate temporal power to spiritual authority; but since the Church itself exercised tem­poral power through the agency of political prelates and mitred business men, the effort was never more than partially success­ful. 

After the Reformation even the pious wish to limit temporal power by means of spiritual authority was com­pletely abandoned. Henry VIII made himself, in Stubbs's words, the Pope, the whole Pope, and something more than the Pope,' and his example has been followed by most heads of states ever since. Power has been limited only by other powers, not by an appeal to first principles as interpreted by those who are morally and spiritually qualified to know what they are talking about. 

Meanwhile, the interest in religion has everywhere declined and even among believing Christians the Perennial Philosophy has been to a great extent replaced by a metaphysic of inevitable progress and an evolving God, by a passionate concern, not with eternity, but with future time. And almost suddenly, within the last quarter of a century, there has been consummated what Sheldon calls a 'somatotonic revolution,' directed against all that is characteristically cerebro-tonic in the theory and practice of traditional Christian culture. Here are a few symptoms of this somatotonic revolution.

In traditional Christianity, as in all the great religious formu­lations of the Perennial Philosophy, it was axiomatic that contemplation is the end and purpose of action. Today the great majority even of professed Christians regard action (directed towards material and social progress) as the end, and analytic thought (there is no question any longer of integral thought, or contemplation) as the means to that end.

In traditional Christianity, as in the other formulations of the Perennial Philosophy, the secret of happiness and the way to salvation were to be sought, not in the external environment, but in the individual's state of mind with regard to the environ­ment. 

Today the all-important thing is not the state of the mind, but the state of the environment. Happiness and moral progress depend, it is thought, on bigger and better gadgets and a higher standard of living.

In traditional Christian education the stress was all on restraint; with the recent rise of the 'progressive school' it is all on activity and 'self-expression.'

Traditionally Christian good manners outlawed all expres­sions of pleasure in the satisfaction of physical appetites. 'You may love a screeching owl, but you must not love a roasted fowl'—such was the rhyme on which children were brought up in the nurseries of only fifty years ago. 

Today the young unceasingly proclaim how much they 'love' and 'adore' differ­ent kinds of food and drink; adolescents and adults talk about the 'thrills' they derive from the stimulation of their sexuality. 

The popular philosophy of life has ceased to be based on the classics of devotion and the rules of aristocratic good breeding, and is now moulded by the writers of advertising copy, whose one idea is to persuade everybody to be as extraverted and uninhibitedly greedy as possible, since of course it is only the possessive, the restless, the distracted, who spend money on the things that advertisers want to sell. 

Technological progress is in part the product of the somatotonic revolution, in part the producer and sustainer of that revolution. The extraverted attention results in technological discoveries. (Significantly enough, a high degree of material civilization has always been associated with the large-scale and officially sanctioned practice of polytheism.) 

In their turn, technological discoveries have resulted in mass-production; and mass-production, it is obvi­ous, cannot be kept going at full blast except by persuading the whole population to accept the somatotonic Weltanschauung and act accordingly.

Like technological progress, with which it is so closely associated in so many ways, modern war is at once a cause and a result of the somatotonic revolution. Nazi education, which was specifically education for war, had two principal aims: to encourage the manifestation of somatotonia in those most richly endowed with that component of personality, and to make the rest of the population feel ashamed of its relaxed amiability or its inward-looking sensitiveness and tendency towards self-restraint and tender-mindedness. 

During the war the enemies of Nazism have been compelled, of course, to borrow from the Nazis' educational philosophy. All over the world millions of young men and even of young women are being systematically educated to be 'tough' and to value 'toughness' beyond every other moral quality. 

With this system of somatotonic ethics is associated the idolatrous and polytheistic theology of nationalism—a pseudo-religion far stronger at the present time for evil and division than is Chris­tianity, or any other monotheistic religion, for unification and good. 

In the past most societies tried systematically to dis­courage somatotonia. This was a measure of self-defence; they did not want to be physically destroyed by the power-loving aggressiveness of their most active minority, and they did not want to be spiritually blinded by an excess of extra­version. 

During the last few years all this has been changed. What, we may apprehensively wonder, will be the result of the current world-wide reversal of an immemorial social policy? Time alone will show.

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somatotonic

Designating a personality type characterised as aggressive and extroverted.