Hindus: Their Religious Beliefs and Practices (The Library of Religious Beliefs and Practices)

by Julius Lipner

  Unfortunately, as Rāmānuja's diatribe indicates, it was characteristic of pre-modern theologians, both in the East and in the West, to assume that their opponents were in bad faith, that they lacked moral integrity. In the Indian context, it was often assumed that the Pūrvapakṣin or dissenter culpably refused to believe what, with due effort, could be seen to be ‘the truth’ – the truth of the siddhāntin or propounder's point of view, of course! This lack of sincerity made it impossible for the opponent to have correct, reasoned belief about the saving teachings of scripture. (Modern thinkers, however, including theologians, tend not to make this assumption about the opponent's bad faith;indeed, they work on the assumption – unless there is clear evidence to the contrary – that the opponent is in good faith, notwithstanding the ‘fact’ that he or she might hold the ‘wrong’ views.) This is why Rāmānuja, as a pre-modern in this matter, was so uncompromising, and passionate, in his condemnation of the Advaitic point of view. No doubt there were more philosophical contexts where this existential dimension of truth was underplayed or in abeyance;here different terms might be used to indicate ‘what was the case’ or ‘the knower of a factual state’, e.g. yathābhūtam, yāthātmyavid. But in the soteriological contexts of so much traditional discussion, the existential dimension reasserts itself in one way or another.

  I have sought to analyze the rationale behind the traditional Hindu understanding particularly of religious truth, to indicate why, all along in Sanskritic discourse, the same word – satya or sat – has stood for both ‘truth’ and ‘being/reality’. Indeed, I suspect that in the Hindu psyche at large this term with its Sanskrit-based vernacular derivates evokes simultaneously both propositional and moral connotations, analytically separable, no doubt, but semantically unitary in the way described.

  This synthetic understanding of truth has ancient roots. Here is an example of its religious use from the Śatapatha Brāhmaṇa (1.1.1.4): ‘This [world] is twofold: there is no third. There is truth and untruth (satyaṃ caivānṛtaṃ ca). Now the devas (“gods”) are truth, humans untruth. So when one says, “I go from untruth to truth”, one goes from humans to the devas’. The context is the sacrificial ritual, the bridge from this conditioned and fragile life to the blissful immortality represented and enjoyed by the devas. The idea was that during the ritual, the sacrificer received a foretaste of immortality in the life to come by sharing in the nature and company of the devas. So the text goes on to tell the sacrificers that they should speak the truth because then they will become like the ‘gods’.

  This usage gives a clue to understanding a famous prayer found in the Bṛhadāraṇyaka Upaniṣad (1.3.28) which belongs to the same Yajurvedic school as the Śatapatha Brāhmaṇa. The prayer runs:

  From untruth/the unreal (asat) lead me to the truth/real (sat), from the darkness lead me to the light, from death lead me to immortality.6

  G. Gispert-Sauch (1988) has shown that this prayer has probably been inserted into the Upaniṣad from Sāmavedic sources where it was originally used for the Agniṣṭoma sacrifice. The Upaniṣad gives it a more general invocatory role than it originally seems to have had. Be that as it may, it is a popular invocation in public functions of one sort or another in India today, and not only in Hindu circles;Indian Christians use it too. On these occasions the words sat and asat are generally understood in the existential sense, as described above. The official Sanskrit motto of the Indian state is to be understood similarly: satyam eva jayate: ‘Truth [speaking and living the truth] alone prevails’.

  But in so far as the pursuit of truth is, or must be, a rational enterprise, and in so far as rationality is perceived to be conditioned by various factors, one's grasp of truth is itself under-stood to be conditioned. Absolute or unconditioned truth, which is how ‘God’ or the Supreme Reality has sometimes been characterized in Hindu tradition, cannot be fully understood by the human mind which is itself conditioned. Thus Hindu thinkers tend to regard the propositional understanding of truth, especially in religious context, viz. saying what is true, as necessarily partial. This makes the propositional understanding of (religious) truth provisional, and continuously susceptible to modification and enlargement.

  The way that myths reveal to Hindu minds how truth can be grasped only partially will help to explain this. It must be emphasized that by ‘myth’ here we are not referring to the debased but quite common usage of the term in the sense of ‘fabricated falsehood’ or ‘fable’. ‘That's a myth!’ we often say when we wish to pour scorn on some idea or story. We are not using ‘myth’ here in this sense. Here ‘myth’ refers to a conceptual device, expressed verbally or visually (or perhaps even aurally, e.g. through music, on occasion), and using forms of narrative or story-telling, to reveal inner structures of cultural forms of life. In other words, through myths and myth-systems the individual and community are enabled, sometimes in paradoxical or cathartic ways, to participate (through acting and re-acting), often by means of liturgy and ritual, in constructed sequences of events, e.g. story or narrative, that are inhabited by living symbols – human or non-human, animate or inanimate – which represent good or evil, right or wrong, purity or pollution, life or death in the cultural life of the participants concerned. Through (re-)enactment of myth, individual and community can come to terms with a developing social and religious identity in changing circumstances that may threaten the security deriving from traditional perceptions, customs and behavioural patterns. Myths involve assumptions, evaluations, and attitudes about reality and life-in-the-world that define the self-image, ideals and goals of individual and community. In so far as they contain assertions about the nature of being – including human beings and the Supreme Reality, salvation, etc. – they make truth-claims and have a truth-content.

  We have pointed, more than once, to the pervasiveness of myth and myth-making in religious Hinduism. Indeed, Hindu mythology is like an ancient banyan tree itself, inhabiting the whole phenomenon of religious Hinduism, the distinction between root-myths and branch-myths being often blurred. Thus the life-sap and symbols of one myth-system flow through or mingle with those of another, the whole tangled structure held together not necessarily by the same mythic elements from end to end, but by a staggered process of overlapping, melding and resemblance between elements of one myth-system and those of another, a process that characterizes all the parts as parts of the same whole. Each salient myth-system can be likened to the Ancient Banyan in so far as it is a sprawling conglomerate of different micro-centres (generating distinctive religious milieux of their own) organically unified by particular mythic elements – symbols, ideas, story-lines – and interacting with other micro-centres of the whole network.

  The truth-content of myths remains to be teased out by rational analysis. It often exists in paradoxical or dialectical form in the tangled narrative skein of the myth-system. Let us give an example or two. Myths about Śiva are characterized by the fact that some depict him as ascetic, others as erotic, and still others in both ways. Not only the ordinary Śiva follower, but also the ordinary Hindu knows this. They know that Śiva is depicted paradoxically in his mythology as an ‘erotic ascetic’, though they may not quite put it this way.7 But this portrayal occurs both verbally and visually (e.g. iconographically). Thus in what has been called the myth of the pine forest, Śiva attempts to seduce the wives of ascetics practising their austerities there. He appears on the scene in the form of a provocative naked (hence erotic) holy-man, with hair matted and body smeared with ashes from the cremation ground (the ascetic aspect). One interpretation claims that Śiva was actually trying in this way to test the purity and single-mindedness of both sages and their wives. According to a variant of the myth, it is the wives who try to seduce Śiva. A number of layers of meaning, psychologically, sociologically and theologically – about the relationship between the divine and the human, about conflicting erotic and ascetic forces within us, about the relationship between priest (viz. the Brahmin redactors of the myth) and
ascetic (viz. the sages who represent an alternative non-sacrificial, other-worldly ideal) – have been read into this myth-system, for it has variants and a history (see O'Flaherty 1981a: Chapter 6). Depending on the extent of personal knowledge of this myth, as well as individual insight, the Hindu must try to analyze and understand the narrative with reference to his or her life, by ranging over the different levels and implications. This exploration may be guided by participation in a community that reveres this particular portrayal of Śiva.

  At the same time, the Hindu is likely to be aware of a number of other ascetic-erotic representations of Śiva. Consider one of the best-known iconographic examples: Śiva as ‘Lord of the Dance’ (Śiva-Naṭarāja). In this depiction, Śiva is shown as poised on his right foot on a small anthropomorphic figure (known as Muyalaka) who represents darkness and delusion; Śiva's left foot is upraised and his four hands assume various positions. The upper left hand bears a flame symbolizing the deity's purifying and transforming function; the upper right hand holds the ḍamaru, a small two-faced drum tapering from each end towards the middle where it is held and rocked rapidly on a vertical axis to allow two attached knotted cords to produce a continuous drumming sound;this signifies the creative word (śabda) at Śiva's disposal. The lower right hand displays the abhaya mūdra or ‘do not fear’ gesture, and is complemented by the lower left hand which points to Śiva's upraised foot. Both hands jointly invite the devotee to take refuge at Śiva's lotus feet, which dispense salvation. Even the demon Muyalaka is not immune from receiving saving grace; his upturned face, even as he is crushed underfoot by Śiva, can be interpreted as a token of his final deliverance. Both he and Śiva are placed on a full-blown lotus; just as the lotus-flower is rooted in the mire and yet rises above it, so by Śiva's grace we who are born into the mire of worldly existence can yet transcend it. Through this dynamic icon Śiva's five divine functions are portrayed: creation, destruction, preservation, veiling-and-unveiling the means to salvation, and the bestowal of saving grace.

  Śiva stands on Muyalaka in a pose of perfect balance, fiery rays of the power of wisdom issuing from both sides of his head. Encircling him is a ring of fire that signifies the transience of all worldly things bounding the stable, peaceful Presence within: it is that sustaining centre of being that we must strive to unite with. This is one of the powerful messages of this particular representation of Śiva. The ascetic and erotic features of this portrayal are patent for those with eyes to see. Among the erotic signs, viz. those that celebrate life, we may include the ornaments on Śiva's body – the bracelets, anklets, garland, earrings (a male earring dangling from the right ear, a female one from his left) – the serpent of fertility coiled about him, and the dance of creation itself, while the ascetic features include the skull in Śiva's usually matted hair and various flames of destruction and purification in evidence around him. The meaning derived from this iconic representation will have to be integrated on various levels with Śiva's role in the myth of the pine forest or some other narrative.8 And so it continues in the context of a plethora of Śiva myths and portrayals available.

  By his erotic behaviour Śiva signifies, among other things, the fertile and superabundant creativity of the deity in a multi-faceted relationship of immanence with the world; by his asceticism he signifies the transcendent brooding ability of the Godhead not only to destroy all things through the periodic dissolutions of the world, but also to renew being by a discharge of tapas or creative energy. As the ‘erotic ascetic’, Śiva symbolizes simultaneously not only the deity's power to create and destroy, to sustain and to renew, to imprison and to liberate, to draw and to repel, but also the truth that these divine functions co-exist in our lives and in the world under different guises. The articulation of this versatile power of the deity is not confined to a single myth-system; it is spread over various narrative skeins so that the ‘whole truth’ that Śiva encapsulates must be pieced together from partial insights yielded by different myths with their variants into a composite picture continuously susceptible to development, modification and interrelation with the believer's life. Such interpretation is often paradoxical in nature. In recognizing logic's limits, reason allows deeper recesses of the believer's psyche to engage, through myth, with an apprehension of reality in which there is at least an implicit realization that truth – not only religious – can be systematically elusive in important ways.

  Thus, it is through a process of acculturation – so typical of the way Hindus grow religiously – that Hindus grasp the relative and provisional nature of truth. For most Hindus this is an instinctive realization. Acculturation can do no more. It is left to reflection and to philosophical and theological modes of thought to tease out this understanding, to seek to articulate it in particular contexts and in the form of particular theories as coherently as possible;this may happen with varying degrees of success. If – perhaps, alas, one should say as – Hindus lose touch with their mythological heritage, their instinctive understanding of truth as partial and provisional will be increasingly impoverished and this will have serious repercussions for their capacity to tolerate a wide variety of religious and other beliefs. Creative artists of all kinds in Hinduism have a burgeoning responsibility to renew their ancestral myths, to make them speak to modern life, so as to preserve the traditions of this conceptual tolerance through their particular talents. I am not making a plea for the preservation of any particular myths or myth-systems. It is the vibrant Hindu mythic mentality as such, in so far as it bears on the understanding of truth, that I am analyzing – and celebrating. Whether this mythic mentality will last, or whether it will decline with time – and where and how – remains to be seen.

  This analysis of the way Hindu myth tends to function makes the pursuit of religious truth in Hinduism paradigmatically assimilative and open-ended. It is assimilative because, by the acknowledgement that one's grasp of propositional truth is provisional, it encourages the incorporation of ‘alien’ insights into the complex thought structures of the receptor systems. During this digestive process – which may be more or less integrated or consistent – the ‘alien’ insights are likely to be transformed so as to be rendered compatible with the assimilative structures themselves, viz. the relevant assumptions, ideas, attitudes. etc., at work on them.

  Thus ‘provisional’ does not necessarily entail what is often meant by ‘relativist’. Provisional truth may still be adhered to as truth, as something that really illuminates a life or situation, and as such, worth retaining, while the assimilative process continues. At the same time, the receptor-system itself is liable to change in certain, sometimes far-reaching, ways during this process. Hinduism is noted for its (conceptual) accommodation, not least in modern times. The result of this mutual transformation – of the matter incorporated and the assimilating structure – cannot be predicted, for at each stage of the interaction a new synthesis of understanding emerges. This must be tested for its truth-value in and through the living, ongoing situation in which the incorporating individual and community find themselves. This is how the Hindu view of truth ideally tends to be inherently open-ended.

  Error, then, in this scheme of things, becomes the untoward obstruction of truth's natural momentum towards enlargement. This happens by substituting the part for the whole in some way, or by taking the part out of context, either inadvertently or deliberately. Most Hindu philosophical theories of error can broadly be explained in this way. Wrongdoing is, more or less, culpable error. As such it is the (more or less) conscious thwarting of truth's claims to be existentially open to its assimilating capacity.

  ‘Mahatma’ Gandhi, for one, understood this very well, and sought relentlessly to implement this understanding in his life. It is no accident that he entitled his (incomplete) autobiography, The Story of My Experiments with Truth. The title must not be interpreted as a trivialization of the quest for truth, as if truth is something to be trifled with by experimentation. On the contrary, as a study of his life
will show, Gandhi was an ardent searcher after truth, at times exposing himself to misunderstanding, disgrace, and even death in the process (see Brown 1989). For Gandhi, truth was something not only to be sought by the intellect but also to be lived, its provisional grasp at any one time the basis of a continuous exploration – hence the title of his autobiography – of its expanding boundaries.

  The chief vehicle of this exploration was Gandhi's action-concept of satyāgraha. Satyāgraha means literally ‘the laying hold (āgraha) of truth/reality (satya)’, but for Gandhi it meant both ‘laying hold of the truth’ and ‘truth's laying hold of oneself’, made manifest in the quality of one's life. The more truth is allowed to grow in this integral manner, the more one's grasp of the truth is enlarged to embrace other insights and perspectives in a vision of life which seeks the welfare of the whole world. It is for this reason that Gandhi saw his other action-concept of ahiṃsā (active benevolence towards all) as an integral part of truth-seeking, as the flip side of satyāgraha. There is no room in this view for easy recourse to violence to settle differences, for such violence humiliates the victim and degrades the aggressor: there is no victor in the end.

  One of Gandhi's chief contributions to the modern Hindu's self-understanding, and search for truth, is the assumption, to be built into one's quest, that the dissenter maintains his or her point of view not out of bad faith – the traditional, pre-modern stance – but through good faith; that is, unless there are clear reasons to believe the contrary, the dissenter acts and believes from motives as sincere as one's own. Further, this assumption implies that the dissenter's view may have a validity that one must try to understand and respond to honestly. Thus the search for truth becomes a shared quest, based on mutual understanding and respect, notwithstanding differences that may remain.