Commentaries

Homo sapiens is one of millions of species that thrive and perish on this beautiful buoy in the cosmic sea. Every species is unique in its own way. Humans are unique in that because of the enormous complexity of their brains, the range and variety of our experiences are greater than those of any other biological entity. We eat, drink, procreate and propagate like other creatures; but we also reflect and rejoice, sing and dance, create art and science, build places of worship, conceptualize truth and justice, and engage in a thousand other mentally, morally, and spiritually enriching activities. Science and religion are among the loftiest expressions of the human spirit.

Science is a quest to explain the world, to understand natural phenomena in a consistent, coherent, and rational framework. Through its meticulous methodology science has shown the causes of rain and thunder and a thousand other things we observe every day. It has also revealed the marvels of the microcosm, the molecular bases of life, the magnificence of invisible galaxies invisible, and much more. It has eradicated diseases afflicting the human body, and needless fears afflicting the human mind.

Religions arose from the recognition of the significance of consciousness in a mindless universe. They have formulated ethical principles that channel our instincts for gratification and restrain self-centered aggressive behavior. They have fostered caring and compassion, inspired great art and glorious music, given rise to subtle metaphysics, created magnificent architecture, and provoked massive scholarship.

Religions also carry the weight of tradition. Sacred history which is deeply etched in the collective psyche of billions all over the world tells us that religions emerged from the visions of Hindu sage-poets, from the covenant of Moses with God, from the enlightenment of the Buddha, from the commitment of Mahavira to non-violence, from the sermons of Jesus of Nazareth, from the revelations to Prophet Mohammed, and from such momentous milestones in the cultural saga of humanity.

The core question in the conflict between science and religion is: Which is primary: matter-energy or consciousness? From the scientific perspective, we live on an inconsequential speck in the vastness surrounding us. Consciousness is but an emergence from the brain which was an accidental eruption among the countless random formations in a blind universe. It is but a glitch in the universe story, a wink in the temporal stretch.

From the religious perspective, the universe would be dismal as a dungeon without our presence. But for us, all the dust and stone, planets and stars, waves and vibrations would be cast in a dark expanse, unnoticed and unsung for all eternity. Light and color, beauty and splendor arise but in human heads. From science's perspective, we have descended from apes; from the religious perspective we are also descended from poets and sages and saints. Science informs us that the matter in us was formed in the core of supernovas; religions affirm that the consciousness in us is related to the Cosmic Whole.

All of us function in the framework of values and worldviews. Religions furnish us with a grand backdrop for life which provides meaning and purpose in the framework of a community. From this perspective, all of us are religious one way or another. It has been rightly said that in a deeper sense human beings are more religious than rational.

There are many dimensions to religions. Of these, the two most important relate to the theoretical framework and the practical aspect, and the associated value system.

There are a variety of ways of being religious. Perhaps the most common one is what may be called the traditional mode. Here too there can be a wide spectrum in theory and practice. Generally speaking, on the theoretical side, a person following the traditional mode accepts as absolute truth the sayings of the recognized authorities of the tradition. In the Hindu world these include saints, gurus, babas, and certain revered texts. Which of these one accepts will depend on one's sectarian affiliation.

One reason for this is that in the traditional framework, certain historical personages are regarded as embodiments of the Divine, or at least that they have achieved higher spiritual knowledge and wisdom, either by virtue of their own spiritual efforts or through actions in previous births.

Some of them are historical personages. Such, for instance, are the saint-scholars Shankaracharya and Ramanuja. Others are revered through the works they have left behind, more than for their historicity. Such are the Vedas and the Upanishads. Then, there are some instances of the text and its traditionally accepted author. The Bhagavad Gita and Lord Krishna stand out as the supreme example in this case.

Finally, there are the current and more recent masters of spirituality. In the Hindu world, every generation has its own foci of spiritual attention. During the past century or so we have had, for example, Sri Ramakrishna Paramahamsa and Ramana Maharishi, at least two Sai Babas, and Prabhupada, Ma, and others. They attract numerous devotees who experience significant spiritual fulfillment in their presence and from their teachings. Thus, aside from worship of the traditional gods of the religion, one calls oneself a devotee or follower of this swami or that guru.

I recognize that such saintly personages provide - and have provided over time - much comfort and spiritual experience to their countless followers, often serving as the closest one gets to a god for the longings of many people. They have attained what is generally recognized as spiritual enlightenment and the associated charisma.

But all this, to me, does not put them on a higher pedestal except in a community setting. I have seen some of them, and I pay due respects to them with folded hands in reverential modes. This comes to me as a result of cultural conditioning. In other words, while I respect such revered personages and their teachings, I have never been able to take any of them as more divine than any other human being I run into in the course of my everyday life.

Thus, in my mind, the lives and thoughts of even the greatest swamis and saints of the tradition are as subject to logical challenges and critical analyses as of any philosopher or writer. I feel this way not only because, I rather suspect that when this is done, one can always find aspects which are either objectionable or not altogether as becoming of the near-god souls they are supposed to be, but also because, in my view, no human being of whatever religion or stature or reports of charisma, knows more about God and the hereafter than any other.

Every religion has its sacred works. In the Christian tradition the Bible is reckoned as the most sacred writing, and it is called Scripture (always with a capital S). The term is used by English-speaking Hindus to describe the Vedas and other such works revered in the tradition as Hindu scriptures. Technically, this is not quite correct since Scripture literally refers to what has been written down. Vedic mantras are believed to have been heard by rishis, and transmitted from generation to generation through the oral tradition, and are therefore more properly known as shruti (that which has been heard).

Be that as it may, in the traditional framework, the Vedas are to be taken as eternal knowledge. This is reasonable if one accepts that their sources were super-human, and their contents revealed to Vedic rishis by a higher source. There have been thinkers and religious movements within the Hindu tradition that have rejected this thesis. Those who do not consider the Vedas to be God-given are described as nâstikas by the orthodoxy.

A few years ago, I attended a lecture by a swamiji who spoke fairly well about the Vedas and their significance. He chanted some of the mantras beautifully. I was very impressed with his knowledge and presentation. During the question and answer period a student, who had not grown up in traditional Hindu culture, asked the saffron-robed swamiji when the Vedas were composed. The learned speaker answered something to the effect that the question that was raised was "more blasphemous" to Hindus than Rushdie's Satanic Verses were to Muslims. He went on to explain that the Vedas were eternal and impersonal (apaurusheya), and have existed since the birth of the universe.

The young man had asked the question out of a genuine wish to know about his tradition, and he felt terribly embarrassed. Was the swamiji wrong? I don't know, but he was honest from the traditional perspective. Was the student wrong in posing the question? Not in my view. I thought he was sincere and no less honest. Though he was unfamiliar with the system in which traditionalists look at such matters, his question was natural and valid in the age in which we live, while the answer he got may seem very strange to someone who is familiar with biological and cultural evolution.

I have respect for the traditional belief on this question. I am familiar with Sri Aurobindo's profoundly meaningful analysis of the symbolism behind Vedic hymns, and I was fascinated by his thesis that the Vedic seers expressed in a twilight language experiences which it was impossible to convey directly. I liked his interpretation of Vedic sacrifice as an elaborate effort to transform humans into the divine.

With all that, I do not and I cannot accept the notion that the Vedas have been there all through cosmic history, much less that Sanskrit sounds have existed in the void of space for billions of years until they were recorded in the brains of Hindu sages a few millennia ago. I believe that the Vedas were uttered or written down in historical times, perhaps some 3500 or more years ago, but certainly not millions or billions of years ago.

There have always been Hindus who have held such views about the Vedas, especially if they have gone through the texts as poetry rather than simply as mantras to be recited by rote. As I see it, the poetic stature and spiritual value of Vedic hymns are not affected in any way if they happen to be just a couple of thousand rather than 13 billion years old. I am inclined to think that being a Hindu in these times has little to do with the acceptance or non-acceptance of the divinity or the eternity of the Vedas.

By mythologizing sublime poetry by our foremost thinkers, which convey deep-felt mystical experiences, we are not elevating them to higher levels.

I have always considered places of worship to be among the most uplifting edifices. Whether it is cathedral or kovil, mosque, pagoda, or synagogue, there is something awesome about structures which were inspired by pure faith and erected from love of God. Places dedicated to the Divine are joyous expressions of the human heart to give thanks and to reach out to the Unfathomable Mystery that has given rise to conscious life.

As a Hindu I have been to many temples in India and beyond. In my boyhood days I used to visit them with the piety instilled in me by my parents and cultural milieu. I admired the colorful icons (mûrtis), beautifully adorned and often garlanded. Whether it was serene Rama-Sita or joyous Radha-Krishna, austere Shiva, ferocious-looking Kali, charming Ganesha, or mysterious Venkateshvara, I have stood in their presence with customary reverence, sometimes recited a mantra or two. I have circumambulated deities in holy precincts, washed myself in temple ponds, dipped into sacred rivers in temple towns. I have sipped sanctified water from my cupped palm, and relished prasâdam, free or for a fee. I have stood in line for darshan and tipped minor temple employees to get unmerited priority in the queue, and flung flowers at the altar with fellow worshipers. I have prayed shamelessly to Sarasvati for good grades in school. All this I did because I was convinced that Divinity was present in those adorable and adored mûrtis.

Later in life I became consciously aware that practically all the temples into which I gained easy entry were verboten to some of my fellow Hindus, because they belonged to lower castes. During a visit to a major temple at Canjeevaram I saw a banner proclaiming that non-Hindus were not welcome. Slowly I began to feel that temples were not as sacred as they once were for me. I reflected on Prahalada's statement that God is in a sliver as also in a pillar, meaning that Divinity is not confined to church or mosque, to temple or gurudvara. I came to look upon these as centers with sectarian significance, and historical reminders of how communities paid homage to their different versions of the Divine. But the Divine is equally present in lakes and mountains, in caves and dungeons, in filthy puddles and in fancy palaces, in minute atoms and in grand galaxies too.

I still go to temples, for sure, and participate in bhajans, in arati, and in relay readings of Tulsi Das. I do all this, not because I believe God dwells especially in temples, but because temples are part of my heritage, the icons are associated with my youthful years and with the worldviews of my ancestors. I recognize that temples have deep spiritual significance for vast numbers of my co-religionists. And I am happy for them.

For me, however, communion with the Cosmic Mystery has no longer anything to do with priest or puja, or periodic rituals of the tradition. I am not against these, and I continue to be culturally enriched when I watch them: they are aesthetically satisfying and have a magic implicit in them by virtue of the weight of centuries. Yet, from my current perspectives, their value lies primarily in the happy memories of years and eras gone by. If I am now moved by places of worship, whether Hindu or other, it is for their impressive architecture beautified by marble, stained glass, carved pillars, old sculptures and such. I also reflect on the associated myths that have inspired great art, music, poetry, dance and drama. I also regard places of worship as convenient community centers for celebrating festivals, singing sacred songs, and listening to discourses. But they are as essential for my own religious experience as they once were. I feel fortunate there was a time when temples added meaningful experience to my life, but I also feel a sense of liberation that I am not affiliated to them any more in those ancient ways.

An ancient maxim, sometimes attributed to Aristotle, is that Man is a rational animal. We should take this to mean that human beings are capable of rational thinking, rather than that they are always rational. But what is rational thinking? Generally, we describe that as rational which conforms to basic logical reasoning, and is also consistent with well established facts of common experience and observation. Through evolution, human brains, though each is unique in its own way, share certain commonalties in their functioning. One of these is the universal logic to which normal brains conform.

Perhaps nowhere else are the principles of strict rational thought as meticulously and successfully applied as in mathematics and theoretical science. On the other hand, when it comes to issues involving history, politics, religion, and the like, logic is seldom unadulterated. Subtle factors, springing from emotions, ideals, frustrations, and cultural conditioning come into action. They play important roles in our being human. Though they often color our reasoning, without them we would be merely thinking machines, spewing out impeccably correct results that follow from inputs to the brain, but devoid of the feelings that make life rich and meaningful.

Decades ago, during the horrific Hindu-Muslim riots in Calcutta, a Hindu mob circled a Muslim vegetable vendor at the Lake Market, and beat him up to death. This was irrational behavior. My father intervened and tried to prevent the lynching, risking his own safety and in vain. In that context, my father's behavior was not rational either.

Reflecting on this episode years later, it occurred to me that there are, in fact, two ways in which one might deviate from rationality. The first is through the irrational mode. Here, one adopts positions or engages in actions which are grotesque, absurd, silly, and even dangerous. Abusing through words or deeds, regarding groups of people as inferior, refusing to accept evidence against one's cherished beliefs (such as the earth's rotundity, or biological evolution), are all examples of irrationality. None of us, scientists, mathematicians, scholars, intellectuals, whoever, is altogether immune from spurts of irrationality. Sometimes institutions, political ideologies, economic schemes, religious systems, or even governments, become irrational. Any individual or system that preaches needless hate and hurt qualifies as an irrational entity.

The second way in which one may digress from rationality is through beliefs and actions that are non-hurtful, fulfilling, uplifting, enriching, or helpful to others. I call this transrationality. Thus, while elements in the religious framework may be non-rational, religious behavior need not always be irrational. It can be transrational. Praying for the well-being of others, and going through the rites and rituals of a tradition, are instances of transrational acts. Doing an act of sacrifice, giving up one's own needs for the service of the sick and the needy, are transrational gestures. Religious doctrines which call for the death and destruction of those who don't subscribe to particular tenets or prophets, which deny salvation to non-believers, or deny spiritual rights to some members of one's own group, are all examples of irrationality in religious systems. On the other hand, singing hymns to the Divine and reading from time-honored texts are instances of transrational elements in religions. Transrational belief and behavior are meaningful and fulfilling.

Art, poetry, and the tales in mythology are transrational. They add to our aesthetic experience. But it is important reckon the distinction between the real which is related to rationality and the ideal or the imagined which may be transrational. Rationality must be respected for intelligent living, and transrationality cherished for meaningful life.

Of ten major religions of the world, eight - Zoroastrianism, Confucianism, Buddhism, Jainism, Christianity, Islam, Sikhism, and Bahai - are known to have historical founders. Hinduism doesn’t have an identifiable initiator, and with Judaism, the names of Abraham, Jacob, and Moses figure as prominent first Jews.

In every religious tradition, splinter groups have arisen because religions are based on doctrines. New thinkers emerge who claim that their own interpretations of the original doctrines are more faithful to the religion, and argue that the religion practiced by the majority is an unacceptable transformation or corruption. Break-off groups from a religion are called sects. There are hundreds of religious sects connected with the various religions. Scholars of religion make distinctions between sects and denominations; the latter term usually refers to groups with a very large following.

In the Hindu world we many sects. But not all of them were formed as splinter groups. The Shaiva, Vaishnava, Shakta, and Smarta sects which are the major subdivisions of Hinduism, date back to very ancient times. They too don't have traceable historical founders. Dvaitins and Advaitins base their separateness on different visions about the nature of Ultimate Reality. These sects were started by eminent philosopher-sages who (as also their scholar-followers) have argued their positions ably through debates and books. Sages like Kabir, Sai Baba, and Swaminarayan have also initiated their own sects. Some Hindu sects, like the ones initiated by Gautama Buddha and Guru Nanak, have evolved into separate religions.

The advantages of being affiliated to a particular religious sect are not unlike those of belonging to a happy family. We feel a special kinship with our brothers and sisters, with our cousins and aunts and uncles. This is a circle with whose members we share common experiences, and in which we feel morally and sentimentally comfortable.

Indeed, in the Hindu tradition, traditional affiliation generally results from one's birth in a family, which has for generations belonged to that sect. Thus, it does not result from a conscious acceptance of the doctrines professed by the founder of the sect. In fact, very few Hindus belonging to any of the major sects can spell out the tenets on which their sect is based, nor explain how these differ from those of other Hindu sects. This situation changed in the 19th century with the formation of new sects which emerged as a result of our encounter with Christianity. That is how the Brahmos, the Arya Samajis, the Prarthana Samajis, and the Ramakrishna movements arose. In these and similar instances, one gains membership through conscious decision. In any event, sectarian bonds, when healthily nurtured, can give people a sense of belonging and fulfillment.

Though conscious sectarian affiliation can inform or reinforce doctrinal beliefs, and though such reinforcements could bring spiritual benefits to its practitioners, my birth in a Tamil Shaivite smartha family has not added much of significance to my own religious life. I have learned some mantras and modes of puja specific to this group, and have gathered some understanding of its metaphysics, but all this has not helped me be a better human being, or even a better religious person in any way I can recognize.

There have been many squabbles between members of various sects even within the Hindu tradition, and more hurtful internecine hatred and persecution within other religious traditions. My own respect for sectarian subdivisions is therefore not of a high order. As to my religious affiliation, I regard myself as a human being first, then a Hindu, and that’s all.

We don't know who first thought or became aware of God, nor even when or where the recognition or the imagining of God first arose. All we know is that in practically all cultures there has been some notion or other of a superior being that is above and beyond the world of perceived reality. Such a being has been variously called and described in many regions and religions of the human family.

God, in most religious frameworks, refers to a supernatural personage who is ultimately responsible for the creation of the universe, its sustenance, and its possible ultimate dissolution. This seems to be a reasonable, but by no means a universally demonstrable, proposition. Those who are convinced of the existence of such a God are called theists (Greek theos: God). Those who explicitly reject this notion are the atheists.

It is important to distinguish between metaphysical theism (MT) and religious theism (RT). Not making this distinction can lead to needless controversies. MT posits God as a plausible explanation for the emergence and existence of the universe, and stops at that. RT goes beyond the proposition of a Creator. It envisages God as someone with extraordinary capabilities and several attributes, most of which are infinitely enlarged versions of the best of human qualities. Thus, the God of religions is all-powerful, all-knowing, and present everywhere. This God is imagined to be kind, loving, merciful, noble, good and everything positive that one can imagine. Such a God is pictured in some traditions in a human form, with head, body, and limbs, even with a gender. The God of historical religions is primarily male, though Hinduism also associates a female principle (Shakti) to its three primary male-divinities.

Atheists say that there is really no God except in the human mind. Though I won’t call myself an atheist, I can think of at least three good reasons why the God of religions could seem highly improbable to some. First, God cannot have humanoid aspects because the human form is just a couple of million years old in the 13 + billion years of cosmic existence. Such a God would not have spoken to just a handful of people in a few languages, as alleged by the great religions. Thirdly - and this is a powerful argument – a merciful God will not tolerate the kind of unwarranted pain and suffering that we see all too often in nature and in human experience. How can a compassionate God, atheists ask in anger, allow innocent children, helpless invalids, and praying persons to die in earthquakes and tsunamis, in hurricanes, tornados and the like?

But then, how did the idea of God emerge in the human mind? Anthropologists, sociologists, psychologists, cultural evolutionists and other scientists have offered a variety of interesting answers to this question, just as in distant times, theologians offered a series of proofs for the existence of God. Scientific theories of theogenesis often account for the notion of a generic God, rather than for the Gods of particular religions, such as Marduk, Minerva, Zeus, Vishnu, Allah and the hundred other gods and god-like beings that have become part of the religious culture and psyche of humanity.

And yet, while one may challenge the logic that upholds anthropomorphic gods, one should also recognize that belief in a religious God is deep in the emotional and mystical experience of billions of people. Not all theists are fools as atheists sometimes say, and not all atheists are evil as theists often believe.

My own view is that one cannot rule out an undergirding consciousness in the experienced world (the Hindu Brahman) on purely logical grounds. The principle of metaphysical theism cannot be as easily demolished as notions of historical divinities.

I am personally not convinced that religious theism, as I defined it in the last essay, can be defended on purely logical grounds. But I recognize it as a valid and meaningful belief for vast numbers of people belonging to the various religious systems of the human family. Now I would like to reflect a little on some of its merits and demerits.

It is a fact of experience that belief in a personal God, irrespective of whether such a God exists or does not, contributes considerably to the psychological well-being of many normal people. We experience a sense of security from the conviction that there is a superior being that cares for our safety, security, and happiness.

For the theist, the idea of an overseeing God could carry greater weight than conscience which is the internal witness of all our thoughts, unuttered words, and deeds, unobserved by, and often unknown to, anyone else. The awareness of or belief in an inescapable supernatural moral police has restrained countless souls from licentious thoughts, obnoxious words, and illicit actions, because of the certainty of being caught one way or another for engaging in unethical modes.

Then again, at a deeper level, the conviction that sooner or later we will be in the presence of, or merge with, a cosmic benevolent God gives courage and hope in the context of one's ultimate phase as a conscious being here on earth.

Moreover, if one feels a need to express one's gratitude for all the happiness and richness that one feels as a human being here on earth, there is in the vision of a personal God a meaningful target for that thankfulness which, otherwise, would have to be addressed either to a vacuous non-entity or be stored within oneself with place to go.

Belief in a personal God has inspired creative artists to draw and to paint, to sculpt and to compose in the form and name of the God of their religious persuasion. It is doubtful that without belief in a personal God, in no matter what form and name, human culture would have so grandly produced so much magnificent art and music and worship-centers in various parts of the world.

Thus, in my view, the theistic framework has been of enormous value to human beings in practically all cultures.

One might then wonder why thoughtful people would object to theism, given that it has so many positive aspects. Leaving aside the absence of solid evidence or rationalistic support for theism, innumerable acts of hurt and hate have been committed in the name of personal Gods. Extending human attributes to a personal God has resulted in angry and destructive Gods: Gods which blurt out in rage and curse humans to death and damnation for straying away from their prescribed course. The Greek Gods were as human in their meanness, vengefulness, and jealousies as were ordinary mortals. This is also true in the case of the puranic Gods in Hindu lore where Gods compete with each other for securing the first place for worship. It is doubtful that any God would stoop to such levels, but people believing in personal gods have.

In my view, the idea that one’s own version of God is the only correct one is a legitimate position within a given religious system. But to claim that it is the only God there ought to be is a dangerous next step. While one may spread the good word, when a person or a group adopts a position as to which God has a right to exist, it becomes difficult to restrain oneself from denigrating the gods of other people, and even destroy with ugly violence their symbols of the Divine. Though it may not always find explicit expression, there is potential for hurtful fanatical behavior in religious theism.

Atheism is the emphatic affirmation of the non-existence of God. It has a long history. From Anaxagoras in ancient Greece to M. N. Roy in modern India there have been many atheist thinkers over the centuries. Various shades of atheism have been there in China, Greece, India, and the West.

Often atheists have had to pay a price. They have been burnt at stake in medieval Europe for their sin. In the Soviet Union and Communist China, it has been just the opposite: Belief in God was/is the crime. In classical India, atheists were not looked upon with much respect. To a degree this is true in modern India and in the U.S.A. also. However, atheists can remain Hindu. No aracharya or Baba or Hindu organization can boot an atheist Hindu out. In this matter, the Hindu world is as enlightened as the modern secular West where atheists can live in freedom and speak out boldly.

When we are born, we are neither theists nor as atheists, but as ignoro-theists, i.e. individuals who have never even heard of God. Belief in God arises because from one’s upbringing. One reason why many people are theists is that they have grown up in families affiliated to a theistic religion. Atheism is the erasing of a belief that was inculcated (like love of parents or respect for elders) in an individual at a pre-reasoning stage. All our ancestors some 50,000 and more years ago were ignoro-theists. Nothing to be proud of or be ashamed about. There are probably pristine ignoro-theist cultures still in the world.

In history, there have been two kinds of influential atheists: To the first belong philosophical atheists. Some of them have been enlightened humanists. Charvaka and Brihaspati in ancient India, Lucretius of Rome, Karl Marx, Bertrand Russell, and Richard Dawkins in the modern world come to mind. On the other hand, Stalin, Mao Zedon and Phol Pot are among the notorious monsters who were rabid atheists.

Enlightened atheists are intellectually honest and meticulously rational. They can be as caring and compassionate as truly religious persons. But now and again they can become as rabid in their non-belief as some religious fanatics. Atheist extremists are not only unbending in their denial of God, sometimes they have the same kind of passion for converting believers into their fold. This in itself may not be bad, but in this context some of them display unwarranted arrogance and speak with contempt about theists. Atheists equate belief in God with affiliation to religions. They regard religion as a competitor to science in explaining origins and ends. As a result, they think that all religious people are misguided or ill-informed. This, to me, is like saying that musicians are misguided because they don’t understand that musical notes can be Fourier-analyzed.

Another serious drawback with atheism is that unwittingly or otherwise, it deprives people of a metaphysical source for hope in despondency, consolation in bereavement, and joy in celebrations. This is one reason why it fails to draw many adherents. Philosophical atheism is intellectually sophisticated, just as philosophical theism is, but it has little practical value. Atheism is allied to modern science, just as theism is allied to cultural comfort. Atheists don’t always realize that one can be decent and caring even if one is a theist. Belief in God also gives inner peace to countless people who feel that this is more significant, relevant, and important for sane living than being right or bright.

Most traditional religious theists are proprius-theists (believing in their own God) and allus-atheists (rejecting the gods of other religions). Most philosophical atheists are insensitive to the deeper emotional and cultural needs of people and groups.

Once I witnessed a heated debate between an ardent Christian and a devout Hindu as to how we will be rewarded or punished in the long run by the Almighty. The Christian spoke about the day of reckoning and eventual entry into heaven or elsewhere, while the Hindu argued for successive reincarnations for paybacks until one finally merged with the Source. I was more impressed by the certainty with which the participants argued their tenets than with the arguments that each presented. I must confess that I was persuaded by neither. Though both made passionate cases for their respective position, the strengths of their arguments lay mainly, it seemed to me, in how ably they revealed the weaknesses in the opponent's position. In this, they both did this very well.

Then again, both were merely repeating what they had been taught, and there wasn't much indication that either of them would convince the other by reasoning and logic. It occurred me that views on these matters are formed from an early age in keeping with the religious framework which has been drilled into a person, or perhaps from books one reads later in life, but not on the basis of empirical evidence.

I must admit that I have seldom had great confidence in narratives about the very distant past and prognostications about the very distant future, even in the scientific framework, let alone as presented in religious doctrines. This is not to suggest that they are wrong, but merely to recognize the limitations of my own mind when it comes to comprehending the Infinite and its possibilities. As a result, when it comes to fundamental questions, I am more inclined to be what T. H. Huxley called an agnostic. I am glad that I live at a time and in a country where one can be an agnostic or an atheist; there are and have been places where you better accept as true whatever the authorities - religious or lay - dictate, or else... Indeed, aside from economic factors and historical rancor, whether or not such freedom of thought in religious matters is to be maintained and spread or restricted and disallowed is a cause for some of the tensions in the world.

For ages, keen minds have been enunciating divergent views on God and the hereafter. Their loyal followers have sometimes engaged in verbal and physical combat. Corporal punishment for wrongdoing is bad enough. But to pester and persecute, or look down upon fellow humans because of their differing notions of what constitutes God and afterlife, seem to me expressions of extraordinary perversion of the true religious spirit.

Someone once said that agnosticism could lead to paralysis of action, because if one is not sure of heaven or hell, or of a happy rebirth, or of a punishing or rewarding God, one cannot choose between moral options. I don't see why uncertainty about long-range aftermath should necessarily lead to naughty behavior, or why honesty, decency, truthfulness and other such social virtues should be linked to receiving a bonus sooner or later, in this birth or in the next or on doomsday or whenever.

As I see it, I doubt that ultimate questions like the existence or nature of God, the relevance of man in the cosmic scheme; long-range meanings of love and laughter; and possibilities of post-mortem persistence can ever be answered to the satisfaction of all.

While I plead ignorance, I respect the convictions of atheists and theists. I am not telling anyone, "You are wrong," but only that "I don’t know for sure." I am impressed, but seldom offended, by the certainty with which people proclaim their truths about ultimate questions. I believe that it is enriching to ponder these, and accept some non-hurtful conclusions that are fulfilling to oneself, even if it is only “I don’t know.” Acceptance of some mysteries is for me as fulfilling as its resolution is for others.

11. Analytical and traditional approach to sacred history

Questions relating to the historicity of the personages and episodes mentioned in religious literature have been vexing scholars for at least two centuries. It is difficult for some to take as a historical fact that Moses met with God and received the Ten Commandments personally from Him. Many papers and volumes have been written on the historical Jesus. Such inquiries cast some doubt on the miracles and magical feats associated with the religious personages mentioned in sacred texts, causing unhappiness and anger in some.

Dispassionate scholars, even with great reverence for the Ramayana and the Mahabharata, have explored the genesis of these marvelous works which strike them as impressive poetic creations of the human spirit. But the upholders of orthodoxy find such stances impertinent, perhaps even disrespectful. Some of them fear, not without reason, that the knowledge unraveled by scholarship might shake the stability of ancient icons and practices. There is therefore a derision on the part of traditionalists for no-nonsense cold-blooded scholars whose concern is for solid facts more than for soothing feelings.

As I see it, this is a cultural manifestation of the perennial conflict between the head and the heart. All through human history, in practically every society touched by civilization, the behavior and beliefs of traditionalists have been challenged by inquiring minds. This has resulted in new insights and understanding about the past for an elite minority. But they tend to cause pain and shock, even discomfort, to a great many people. The conquests of the mind in religious matters can upset the joyful heart. An impeccable proof to the effect that no almighty God lovingly holds His protective hand over our heads when we go to sleep could result in restless and worrisome insomnia in some.

Whether one should accept the evidence of carefully gathered data and the logic of arguments, or respond to the call of a deeper faith that endows us with peace and spiritual ecstasy is the dilemma that we sometimes face. Some make a decision, and claim their preference to be the right one. There is perhaps no right or wrong choice in this matter, if only because one is as human as the other, and both have contextual significance..

This dichotomy an illustration of what is called the principle of complementarity: reality is recognized as consisting of apparently contradictory, but in fact mutually complementing, features. Niels Bohr used to say that there are two kinds of truths, small and great ones. A small truth is one whose contrary is false. That milk is white is a small truth, because to say that milk is black is clearly wrong. But a great truth is one whose contrary is no less true. To say there religions have done much good is as true a statement as that religions have done much harm. That the electron is a particle as that it is a wave.

As long as we are experiencing one side of a coin, we cannot perceive the other. But it would be simplistic, if not a grave error, to imagine that the coin has only one side. For the analytical scholar to maintain that the spiritual dimension of the Ramayana is without significance would be as partial a vision as the claim of the religious devotee who doesn’t realize that bhajans and mûrties have evolved over the ages in human culture, and are meaningful modes towards a greater goal, rather than reflections of objective truths.

The charm of Aesop’s Fables lies, not in the conversations of animals but in the morals they spell out. I drink deep of the spiritual fountain of our epics because I was brought up in the tradition. Yet, I look into those works as creations of inspired poets. However, I am well aware that scholarly perspectives are not the only or even the best mode of approaching sacred works. All I can say is that I have been enriched by them.

12. On the Relevance of Remembering our Heritage

Many in the modern world, recognizing the superstitious elements in religious frameworks, question the need for religious traditions. They wonder how people, informed by the knowledge and worldviews of science, still cling on to ancient pictures, taking legends and hagiography seriously, and regarding works like the Vedas and the Bible as holy books. They wonder why otherwise intelligent people recite the psalms and sacred chants. To vast numbers of people there are perfectly legitimate questions.

It seems to me that individuals can lead sane lives in a world of science, technology, and modern medicine, without religious rites or rituals, or knowledge of one's history or culture. Indeed, ancestral wisdom is seldom helpful in solving our current problems. I see nothing morally objectionable in this.

However, while this is possible for individuals, the matter is different for a cultures. In so far as we are cultural beings, that is to say, bound together in community through meaningful practices and interactions, we can’t afford to erase the past from our collective psyche. There arise occasions in the life of a people, as of individuals, when we need to rejoice in the triumph of a community, mourn a loss to a nation, celebrate a memorable event, or confront a collective crisis. In moments like these, culture and history and bonds of a shared past become very valuable, if not necessarily absolutely essential.

Then again, in the case Hindus (as with some other groups), our ancestors had suffered subjugation by aliens; they have been exploited and oppressed; and our culture has suffered marginalization, ridicule, and distortion by ill-wishers. In such contexts, it is a relief and a necessity to affirm one's robust past and culture, for no people can afford to be regarded as having been always a loser in the conflicts and foul-plays of history. There is no need for Hindus to create an imaginary heritage rich and worthy of respect: By any objective measure, Indic culture has been colorful and creative in art and music and joyous festivities, productive and prolific in poetry and philosophy and literature. It would be unfortunate if one were to forget the weighty legacy of our past. Every people would do well to remember their heritage, not in vainglory, but with intelligence and sensitivity.

These then are some reasons why people must remain culturally connected to their history. One doesn’t have to preserve untenable beliefs to sing beautiful hymns. One doesn’t have to show that modern physics is implicit in ancient utterances to admire in them penetrating insights into the spiritual dimension of Man and meaningful commentaries on the human condition. One doesn’t have to defend anachronistic social practices, but one has to eradicate them with historical understanding and sensitivity.

It is important, however, not to let our lives and outlook be overburdened by history and heritage. One must guard against becoming obsessed with past glories, or flaunting it as the best in the world, no matter how great, or deluding oneself that it was never without a blemish. The reason for remembering is not to proclaim to others how grand our culture or religion is compared to what others may have, but for deriving for ourselves the aesthetic, spiritual, and cultural fulfillment it can provide to those who come to know about aspects of it in any serious way.

To ignore or denigrate one’s cultural roots is like flinging family albums into the fire. Remembering a culture’s past is also like periodic housecleaning. We clear the clutter and the cobwebs accumulated over time, discard irrelevant trinkets, and hold on only to precious possessions. Erasing heritage and history would be like waking up one morning, having forgotten the events, friends and kin of one's life: a sad psychological disaster.

13. Conception and consciousness

From the merger of a microscopic sperm and egg in the darkness of the fallopian tube arises an entity that gradually acquires self-awareness and an identity all its own. This embodied consciousness reflects and rejoices, creates and communicates, and engages in countless activities for a brief time-span. Then, after a final breath, its non-physical attributes vanish from the tangible world. No thinking mind can remain unimpressed by this remarkable phenomenon. If anything is a mystery, human consciousness is.

Each one of us carries within a totality that is more than the sum of our body's material substrate. Not so long ago, many of the atoms and molecules that make up our anatomy at this hour were not part of us. Millions of microorganisms thrive and perish in our saliva and alimentary canal. With all that, there is a subtle self that has been illumining every one of us, something that etches the identity of a separate existence within a hugely interconnected whole. This self has been with us since the first utterance of I and me, and it will be part of us until the dusk and dimness of life when, gradually or suddenly, our individual memories will falter and fade away for good.

We cannot deny the biochemical basis in the persistence of personhood. Some day, silicon configurations in plastic casings may acquire feelings and emotions, mimicking the heaves and exhilarations of the human heart. Computers create music today; they may be enjoying it tomorrow, and may be reflecting on life and death the day after. But this is not sufficient proof that there is or is not anything beyond matter and energy in space and time. This metaphysical Gödel’s theorem is at the root of much controversy.

From the perspective of science, nature appears to be essentially a tangible manifestation of matter and energy. However, the laws of nature, which organize and sustain it, cannot be located here or there or anywhere. They pervade the span of spread-out space and ceaseless time. One way of considering the Hindu perspective is that consciousness is implicit in these laws, an intangible principle that breathes order in the universe, and life into inert matter.

The Copernican revolution displaced our earth from the center of the universe. Science has been enormously successful in exploring the entire physical span of the universe from the far-from-visible microcosm to faint and farthermost specks in the vast expanse. And science may be right in regarding consciousness as just another among the countless occurrences in the stretch of time since the first creative bang.

But we will be missing the point if we don't see the role of consciousness in the unfolding of cosmic history. Science has displaced our habitat from center stage, but not dethroned human consciousness from the center of the perceived world. Like invisible air and earth-binding gravity, we take consciousness for granted because it is with us all the time. Consciousness deserves more than passing mention in any serious commentary on the universe, for it is consciousness that has lit up the universe with beauty and color, and infused it with meaning and understanding. Until the last decades of the twentieth century, science did not inquire about the consciousness.

Four centuries of modern science have thrown much light on the physical basis of this uncommon wonder, which may have parallels in other pockets in a universe studded with billions of stars and planetary systems. Some day we may explain consciousness in terms of neurons, microtubules, or other matter-based principles. But, as of now, consciousness continues to be a fantastic anomaly in the mindless morass of mass-energy cluttering the cosmos.

14. Consciousness in religious frameworks

The conscious human is the center of all religions. Our distant ancestors recognized more than we do that there would no universe to observe or contemplate upon if we were but brutes, which eat, procreate and perish periodically. So religions have reflected on consciousness in different ways. On this issue, as on others, even if we don’t subscribe to all that the ancients said, we may pay homage to the thinkers who pondered these matters for they led the way to thoughtful appreciation of human existence.

In (at least one stream of) the Judaic tradition, the calendar is reckoned as having started in 3761 B.C.E. when consciousness was breathed into Adam and Eve. This reckoning is attributed to This reckoning is sometimes attributed to José Ben Halaphta of the second century C.E. who is said to have arrived at the year by adding up "the ages of various patriarchs, kings, and historical periods listed in the genealogies and histories of the Bible." There is also a belief that after some two and a half centuries from now, humanity will be raised to a state of a new consciousness.

In the Christian tradition, consciousness is taken as an agency of God and the Holy Spirit. It is an awareness of the world, an essential element of the human condition that is crucial to an understanding of the difference between good and evil. There are no metaphysical classification of consciousness here, or any probing into its ultimate nature. God has endowed us with consciousness, which is a unique gift, and it is our responsibility to make the best of it, i.e. exercise the will that is associated with consciousness in fruitful and worthy ways.

Buddhist thinkers recognized consciousness at various levels and contexts. At one level, we are conscious of material things and to sensuality. Next there is consciousness directed to external forms. The third is concerned with the formless sphere. This involves ideas and values, and is not concerned with matters of material or visual interest. The fourth kind of consciousness is related to transcendental matters. In other words, thought and consciousness were identified in some of these perspectives, perhaps significantly so, for it is the thoughtful being that is also self-aware, or it is perhaps the conscious being that engages in thought. Buddhist thinkers also classified subjective consciousness into four classes, namely: consciousness which is wholesome and consciousness which is unwholesome in its effects; consciousness which is a consequence of past actions; and consciousness which is totally ineffective.

We note from all of this that the more one reflects on these matters, the more complicated and rich the field becomes. Such categorizations lead to an understanding of one's own thoughts, attitudes, and behavior. From that understanding may come a more balanced and fulfilled life.

Islamic theologians talk about levels of consciousness (fana, baqa, and ma-rarifa) depending upon the extent to which we become one with the divine. In the last stage one is supposed to have become part of the consciousness of Divinity. However, only believers can attain these stages. Here, as in the Hindu world, consciousness is described in terms of one’s awareness of transcendental reality.

Thus, the recognition of the significance, perhaps even the uniqueness, of consciousness in a cold and careless world is at the basis of all major religions. And this is quite contrary to what is assumed in the modern scientific framework in which consciousness is essentially an interesting and emergent byproduct of complex matter.

15. Consciousness in the Hindu vision: Tat tvam asi

In ages past, sage-poets in India probed into the roots of consciousness, and they formulated some fascinating views on the subject. Their startling conclusion was that human consciousness is a pale echo of something far more magnificent. Expressed through the aphorism, tat tvam asi: Thou art That, it says that every conscious entity is a spark from an underlying effulgence, and can flash a radiance as its source alone can.

The capacity for awareness and experience, for logical analysis and joyful interaction is an intangible component of Homo sapience. This is the essence of what one calls the human spirit. Just as there is more to a flower than soil and tree-branch, so in the Hindu view, the spirit is more than neural network, heartbeat and vital breath, though these are what create and sustain it here below.

Hindu thinkers reasoned that if there is splendor in the perceived world and pattern in its functioning, and if it can all result in the grand experiences of life and thought, then even prior to the advent of humans, there must have been an experiencing principle of a vastly superior order. This Cosmic Experiencer (Brahman) spans the range in space and time. Just as the expanse of water in the seas is scattered on land in ponds and lakes and cups and bottles, all-pervading Brahman finds expression in countless life forms. We are miniature lights from that universal brilliance. We have emanated from that primordial splendor, like photons from a glorious galactic core, destined for terrestrial experience for a brief span on the eternal time line, only to re-merge with that from which we sprang.

Is this is really so, is it a scientific hypothesis, or just poetic imagery? But if it is only poetry, let us remember that poetry and prayer are for the human spirit what the telescope and the microscope are for human eyes. Lenses enable us to discern entities beyond our normal sight, and profound poetry is a response of the human mind or spirit to that which is not fathomed through logic and reason. Poetry brings home to us, indeed it forces us to reckon, the world of experience, not in terms of sense data and charts and proofs, but in subtle and holistic ways. It reveals the meaning and majesty in the universe that lie in a realm beyond the plane of rigid rationality. Poetry is mystic experience verbalized.

Thus, Hindu spiritual vision paints individual consciousness on a cosmic canvass. It recognizes the transience of us all as separate entities, yet incorporates us into the infinity that encompasses us. It does not rule out the possibility of other manifestations of Brahman, sublime and subtle, carbon or silicon-based, elsewhere amidst the stellar billions. It recognizes the role of matter, and the limits of the mind, but sees subtle awareness at the core of it all. It does not speak of rewards and punishments in anthropocentric terms, nor of a He-God communicating in local languages. Yet, it regards the religious expressions of humanity as echoes of a Universal Spirit, even as volcanic outbursts reveal submerged forces of far greater magnitude.

Going beyond the tenets of mechanistic-materialist science, one may find something elevating in regarding every conscious being as a spark from a Cosmic Whole. I have presented a vision from the Hindu world, not as a Truth that I call upon others to accept, but as an uplifting thought to regard ourselves as part of that from which the universe sprang. In this grand scheme, every fellow human becomes yet another spark from the same sublime source. When such a worldview is internalized, it can inspire an outpouring of caring and compassion, of love and respect! From this perspective, as our materials bodies are stardust, our spiritual dimension is cosmic dust.

16. Thoughts of Death: For the theist and the atheist

Nothing that is born lives on for ever. Life, as someone quipped, is a terminal disease: sooner or later we all must cease in our current bodies and minds. Death is a curious puzzle in one’s youthful days, and the recognition of an impending event in one’s graying phase. Different people react to the thought of death in different ways.

For the theist, irrespective one’s religion, there is the hope of a more glorious life in the hereafter. Even with threat of punishment by a severe God for sins slight and serious, there is a feeling that with repentance and after payment of dues, one will enter a state of eternal peace in the region of an all-merciful Almighty. Even when there is the requirement of revisiting earth to reap the consequences of conscious actions, the cycle will end sooner or later, and ultimate liberation with merger with the Universal Spirit is a cheerful and uplifting possibility.

When a near and dear one breathes no more, there is the conviction in the heart of the believer that he or she is safe and secure in a world beyond, away from the rough and tumble of this arduous life with its fears and fury, residing with the certainty of our own eventual arrival there. What can be more promising than the thought that after all is said and done, there will be a joyous eternity in the realm and reflection of the Creator!

Thus the person who lives in faith and conforms to the norms of ethics has little to fear about death, for it escorts one to a place non-existent for doubters. Contrary to what some atheists say, death is not, or shouldn’t be, ugly or intimidating to religious people.

However, it is important for the theist to know that atheists aren’t disturbed by the thought that in due course they will be turned to dust or ash, pulverized beyond recognition, lingering perhaps in the fading memory of some who too will some day with the atoms of mindless lumps in mud and slime. The awakened atheist rejoices in life while it lasts in love and laughter, and feels that all of life’s splendor is intense and exhausted in lived moments, focused only here below in this insignificant niche in the cosmic stretch. Life is like reading a fascinating novel without wanting the narrative never to have an end, or sipping a fine glass of Bordeaux without craving for the glass to be an endless fount. Be born, be well for a while, then be gone for good, is the commandment of blind biology.

To the atheist, death is simply the inevitable cessation of the vital functions of a living entity. Sure, it is a threatening idea to some, it is intense pain for the loving ones who are left behind, and a mystery to some thoughtful people. Even atheists sometimes toy with a what-if-question in this context, for it is not easy for everyone to imagine that the thoughts, feelings, ideas and experiences accumulated and encapsulated in a brain and body for years vanish into void with an interruption of oxygen-intake. It is as if when the covers of a book are closed, all its contents are erased in a jiffy.

Since very ancient times, people have wondered and argued about death and the beyond. Even with all the progress in science, wonderment about death persists at the philosophical level, and firm convictions about it persist at doctrinal levels. These are likely to continue for as along as we shed tears, eulogize, write epitaphs, and wish or pray for the peace of the departed.

One may react to the thought of death meaningfully whether one is a believer or not. However, what matters now is not if we will live disembodied for evermore, or if we will become no more than unrecognizable bits scattered on earth’s mantle, but how we spread joy, alleviate suffering, and serve others while we are alive and kicking.. In this context, atheists and theists of goodwill can join hands and work together as fleeting earthlings for the good of all.

17. Places of worship

The Gods of Greece resided on Mount Olympus, which Homer described thus: "Olympus, abode of the gods, that stand fast for ever. Neither is it shaken by winds nor wet with rain, nor does snow fall upon it, and the air is outspread clear and cloudless, and over it hovers a radiant whiteness." This reminds us of the Himalayan peak where Shiva and Parvati of Hindu lore reside. The gods could well be up above in the vast expanse of extra-terrestrial space, beyond the starry firmament. The ancient vision was that the Gods resided way too far for ordinary humans to climb and reach.

Because they are so distant every religion constructed halls and altars where the Divine might come to reside, where men and women can gather to pay homage to the Almighty. Temples were built for Minerva and Jupiter on the hills of Rome. The grand edifices built for them have crumbled down for archeological probes or they have been renovated to attract tourists. All man-made gods have a history.

In ancient India there were devâlayas (Houses of Gods) for the Sun-God Sûrya and the Sky-God Indra, but now we have mandirs and kôvils consecrated to Rama and Krishna, Shiva, Kali and Murugan.

In the Judaic tradition, the place of worship was also a place where people went together (synagogé). It was in the synagogue that religious teachings were proclaimed to the faithful: i.e. the synagogue also served as a kind of public school for religious studies. The Jewish scholar Arthur Herzberg explains that "The central function of the synagogue was to cultivate a value perhaps more important that prayer to Jewish faith, the study of the Torah.” On Sabbath, people gathered in the synagogue to hear a reading of a passage from the Torah and to gain understanding of its interpretation. To this day, this is enshrined in the central act of public worship in Judaism on every major occasion.

In the Christian world assemblies for common worship services became churches. When Paul and Peter initiated such groups, perhaps they did not realize that some day churches would spread to every corner of the world, just as, when the first temples were erected in India no one foresaw a day when there would be temples in Malaysia and Madagascar, in London and Pittsburgh.

Periodic calls to prayer through a hearty proclamation that God is great is an important feature in the worship centers of the Islamic world. Here the traditional mode is to prostrate as a gesture of surrender to the Almighty: which is why the place is called a masjid, which literally means a place for prostration. Known as mosque in English, it has a wall without doors with a niche called mihrab which points to the direction (qilba) of Maccah where the Prophet had established the very first mosque of the tradition. Then there are the stûpas and the multi-layered pagodas of Buddhism. To these may also be attached residence halls for the monks of the tradition. The architectural elements of the building are also regarded as worthy of reverence. Though Buddha himself was indifferent to questions about God's existence, he has been symbolically deified in the tradition. Therefore his images are revered and worshiped in Buddhist temples. The gurudwara (Doorway to the Master) is the Sikh place of worship where the faith’s scripture (Guru Granth Sahib) is all that is worshiped in reverence, and the One God is invoked as waheguru.

Places of worship are the sanctified centers where one expresses gratitude to that which caused the world to be. here, the human spirit invokes with humility the Unfathomable Mystery that has actualized this world. This is a lofty goal of religions.

18. Purpose and Goal

Life is a series of experiences and activities. The experiences come to us, and we initiate the activities. Activities are of two kinds: Those to whose consequences we are indifferent, and those we perform with definite consequences in mind. The former may be called purposeless actions, and the latter, purposeful or goal-directed.

In this context, questions like the following sometimes arise: What is the goal or life? Is there a purpose to the universe? Answers have ranged from: The goal of life is to enjoy it to the full, to achieving self-realization; and from: The purpose of the world is nothing at all to the purpose is for God to manifest Himself fully.

Here, it is useful to make a distinction between goal and purpose. A goal is a point or state towards which the activities of an individual or a system seem to tend. Purpose, on the other hand, is the intrinsic reason why a system functions to reach a goal. A careful external observer may be able to infer the goal of a system from its behavior. But an outsider cannot fathom the purpose for sure. As Shakespeare's Cicero said:

... Men may construe things after their fashion,

Clean from the purpose of the things themselves.

Biological entities are often governed by goal-directed behavior. But they may not be always aware of why they seek the goal. The goal of a heliotrope is to receive as much sunlight as it can. The reason why it does so is not within the plant, but in the realm of biological evolution. Even purely physical systems often have a goal. For instance, the goal of many mechanical systems is to attain a state of minimum potential energy, which is why unsupported objects fall to the ground where the potential energy is least. Systems with many constituents strive to reach a state of maximum entropy. When light travels from point to point, its goal is to follow the path of least action (Fermat’s principle). Why these happen is not clear. We simply say that they are the laws of nature.

From this perspective, two insights emerge. First, purpose implies conscious behavior, whereas goal directed behavior need not be so. Secondly, only the entity which acts can know what the purpose, if any, is. This is evident in practically all human contexts. We may know that a person striving to achieve something has a definite goal. But only he or she can know why the striving is there. The goal of a student is to pass the course creditably. Her purpose may be anything from a desire to get a degree to satisfying parental pressure. When a philanthropist gives generously, the goal of the action is to support an undertaking. But he or she alone knows the real purpose behind the munificence. It could be commitment to the cause, it could be to gain fame, it could be to redeem a feeling of guilt, or whatever.

Scientists tend to think that there is really no purpose to the universe. The reason for this is not philosophical, but observation-based. In the systematic study of natural phenomena, it is difficult to detect any purpose in the world, not only in the countless organisms on our planet, but in the continued existence during eons of routinely shining and dying stars, let alone in aimlessly wandering comets and galaxies. This apparent absence of any purpose in a vast and wondrous universe impresses some naturalists as a pointless universe. This may well be so, but only the universe can know what the purpose of the universe may be, if there is one. Then again, to imagine the universe to have a purpose, one must grant consciousness to it, which current science is unwilling or unable to do. Thus, in principle, the question of purpose in the universe can never be resolved.

19. The religious roots of ethics

Human life is directed not only by worldviews, but also by values. Science provides worldviews based on observation and analysis. It functions on the basis of a value system, which includes disinterested quest, commitment to truth, honesty in reporting of results, and the like. But science does not prescribe rules in interpersonal interactions which are an important part of societal ethics.

Traditionally, the principles of ethics were formulated by religions and inculcated by elders in a community. Thus, in the Judaic tradition, the Ten Commandments were given to Moses on Mount Sinai. Though one may doubt the literal veracity of God handing over a do-don’t list to an individual, tradition records the date on which this occurred as the third day of a Hebrew month (Sivan). The Judaic world celebrates this event as Shavuot: the season of the giving of law. The commandments instill the values of honoring parents, of remembering God at least once a week, of not stealing or killing, and the like. One is asked not to have any other God but the one who gave the commandments: perhaps what was demanded was loyalty to the enunciated principles.

Christians derive their moral inspiration from the Biblical life of Jesus, in particular, from the Sermon on the Mount. Of this, St. Augustine wrote: "If any one will piously and soberly consider the sermon which our Lord Jesus Christ spoke on the mount, as we read it in the Gospel according to Matthew, I think that he will find in it, so far as regards the highest morals, a perfect standard of the Christian life…. The sermon is brought to a close in such a way that it is clear there are in it all the precepts which go to mould life.”

Values in the Hindu world are enunciated in various sacred texts. For example, the Bhagavad Gita recommends the following essential virtues to be cultivated: "Fearlessness, purity of mind, determination in pursuit of knowledge and austerities, charity, self-control, and performing prescribed rituals, recitation of the Vedas, meditation, rectitude; non-violence, truthfulness, being without anger, self-sacrifice, peace of mind; not criticizing, compassion towards beings, non-coveting; gentleness, modesty, steadfastness; courage, forgiving, fortitude, purity, freedom from malice and haughtiness." The Dharmashastras prescribe behavioral norms and laws.

In the Islamic world, the moral and legal framework is inspired by what is known as the Sharia which is derived from the Holy Qur'an where it says: "…We gave you the Sharia in religion. Follow it, and do not follow the lust of those who do not know." Traditional Muslim world regards the Sharia as the will of God, which has been described as "the totality of religious, political, social, domestic, and private life."

Like the Dharmashastras of the Hindu world (which are no longer in vogue in India), the Sharia (which is practiced to varying degrees in various Islamic nations) spells out not only what one must do, but also punishments for specific derelictions. It includes the so-called Hadd-offences, mentioned in the Qur’an, which must be dealt with medieval severity, such as lashes on the back, severing of hands, and stoning to death. There are complex and varied commentaries on it, and also different schools of Sharia.

Thanks largely to world-wide communication systems, the recognition of barbarities inherent in some traditional systems, as also a growing global trans-religious ethical system, modernists in all traditions are trying to re-interpret, modify, and even discard some of the injunctions in traditional religious frameworks which strike us as anachronistic, unconscionable and unacceptable in our present age. In the process, however, some socially beneficial traditional values are also being lost.

20. Ethics: secular perspectives

Confucius spoke with gentleness on the basic guidelines for being fully human. We read in his Analects about benevolence, charity, love, right conduct, duty towards others, selflessness, loyalty, reciprocity, honoring parents, and the like: simple, yet sophisticated virtues with no mumble-jumble about God or after-life or heaven. While stressing self-control, he did not recommend self-denial.

In the seventeenth century, while Gentiles and Grotius argued that the notion of the law of nature "in the juridical sense had come to be seen as that part of the divine law which issues from the essential nature of man, who is distinguished from animals by an appetite for tranquil association with his fellows and by his tendency to act on universal principles,” Thomas Hobbes speculated that even the highest moral behavior was ultimately instigated by selfish motives and colored by unhealthy passions. In Hobbes’ view, even gratitude was never pure, but tainted by a secret hostility toward the giver.

Gradually, like other long-held prerogatives of religions, ethics too began to be usurped by the rush of rationality and science. With knowledge of the mores of various cultures and study of the behavior of different species, as also with an understanding of the role of genes in biology, scientists have been analyzing the source and significance of ethical principles. Fields like anthropology, biology, and evolutionary psychology have brought down the sources of morality from scriptural pedestals to survival needs, cultural forces, and genetic programming.

Many do's and don'ts are explained in terms of what is conducive to societal survival and healthy species-propagation. Scientifically inclined thinkers are persuaded that the impetus for ethics may often be traced to DNA; i.e. that moral acts are emergent manifestations of molecular matter. Researchers into the behavior of animals have been revealing how non-humans sometimes act very much like us in morally sound ways. Frans De Waal's work shows that lowly animals can be mutually friendly, caring, and cooperative. This is in consonance with the ideas on morality developed by Michael Cavanaugh who has discussed the thesis that "inside each of us, as a function of our muscular and nervous and hormonal systems, is a propulsion toward various kinds of actions. We share that propulsion with animals." Richard Dawkins developed the idea of the selfish gene, which may be regarded as the twentieth century elaboration of Hobbes's thesis by which altruism is no more than camouflaged self-serving scheme. In this view, whether it is bees that kill themselves to protect the hive, or jihadists who blow themselves up to protect their cause and creed, or Mother Teresa who dedicated herself to serve the abandoned, ultimately it is all genes, which are at work to propagate themselves. Dawkins argues that we are unique only in that we can refuse to succumb to the selfish gene. Others, mostly from religious perspectives, insist that there is more to kindness, compassion, caring and love than gene-instigated neuron firing.

A look into the history of ideas generates little hope that the question will be settled by debate or laboratory revelations. This is the kind of issue that cannot be resolved by reason, argumentation, measuring device and mathematics.

When subjected to explanation, morality tends to lose its potency as an imperative for action. One can practice much virtue without postulating genetic coding at the root of kindness or compassion. The Samaritan who feeds a hungry stranger accomplishes much of value even if she has no inkling of DNA and RNA, and hasn't read erudite philosophers who write books on what makes us moral beings.

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21. Three kinds of laws

From the most ancient times human beings have regulated life and society by adhering to certain well-regulated patterns of conduct. This has been achieved by the enactment of laws which, as a member of a society, one agrees to obey. Such human-made or statutory laws govern all civilized societies. Statutory laws preceded the recognition of laws of nature. This is one reason why the term law was introduced to describe ordered behavior in the physical world. It was reasoned that Nature is also governed by strict laws formulated by its Creator.

Statutory laws prescribe constraints on members of a society. These are meant to safeguard the interests of all people, rather than to promote those of a few. Obedience to such laws implies that everyone sacrifices some personal freedom; and there is a check on inconsiderate use of one person’s freedom that affects others negatively.

Statutory laws can be broken, i.e. one can violate these laws. Such violations are, of course, subject to appropriate penalties in a society. In other words, the breaking of a human-made law may result in unpleasant consequences for the law-breaker. But a law of nature cannot be broken, even in principle. Violations of statutory laws are crimes or felonies. Violations of laws of nature are regarded by some as miracle. Miracles are not allowed in science.

Between statutory and natural laws are certain kinds of laws whose status has been the subject of much controversy. These are the so-called moral laws. They arise from a unique characteristic of humans in an evolved state. Human beings experience what is called a conscience: which is an intangible pointer that seems to indicate the difference between good and bad, between right and wrong action. External and preached principles of good and bad behavior may be questioned or discarded, but the inner impulses for right action, and the deeper personal feelings of guilt are often inescapable.

But it is also true that inner ethical directives don't always point in the same direction in all individuals or in peoples of different cultures. Anthropologists and psychologists trace the origins of some of our inner ethical principles to inculcation of value systems from infancy, by mother, father, friend, preceptor, and cultural environment.

And yet, one may argue that human beings, even with completely different cultural upbringings, do have certain common criteria of right and wrong conduct. Consider the following extreme cases: The cruel torture of a wounded, invalid, blind four year old child who is gasping for breath would be regarded as a wrong act by normal human beings in any society. Similarly, practically any normal human being will consider it a preferable (good) gesture to offer some water to a sick, old woman dying of thirst rather than take away whatever water may be within her reach.

Whether or not moral laws have the same standing as physical laws, they resemble statutory laws in one important way: They can be violated. Those who are inclined to give objective validity to moral laws invoke a new idea in the context of this possibility. They maintain that there operate in the universe (by which they mean in this context the world of humans) certain inescapable laws of action and consequences governing our behavior. Invariably and inevitably, our good and bad actions will be rewarded or punished sooner or later. This is implied in the law of karma in the Hindu worldview and in “Whatever a man soweth, that shall he also reap” of the New Testament. This prompted Immanuel Kant to declare: "Two things fill the mind with ever new and increasing admiration and awe …: the starry heavens above, and the moral law within."