While he was still at college, Albert Schweitzer’s classmates would often ask him, “however do you manage to do so much?” The theologian-turned-musician , who won the Nobel Peace Prize for medical work in Africa, usually laughed or would try to shrug off such questions. But when they persisted, Schweitzer would show a French poem which he had framed and hung up above his work table:
“Higher, ever higher,/ Let thy dreams and wishes rise,/ Let them mount like flame of fire,/ Upwards to the skies./ Higher , ever higher,/And when thy heaven is overcast,/ May thy star of faith aspire/ Till all is bright at last.”
For more than sixty years this extract was Schweitzer's inspiration.
It is still to be found, faded, above his writing-desk in Gunsbach . After graduation, Schweitzer published one of the most famous theological texts of our times called The Quest of the Historical Jesus. In this he defined Jesus as an ultimately tragic figure whose apocalyptic consciousness impelled him to his death.
He also believed that Jesus had died mistaken and forsaken . This conclusion drove him from the study of theology to the work of practical love. He wrote of this period in his life: “I wanted to be a doctor that I might be able to work without having to talk. For years I had been giving myself out in words...this new form of activity I could not represent to myself as being talking about the religion of love, but only as an actual putting it into practice.”
He was 30 when he answered the Evangelist Missions Society’s call for a medical doctor. The selection committee baulked at his incorrect’ Lutheran theology . Although he could easily have obtained a place in a German Evangelical mission, Schweitzer wished to follow the original call of serving humanity despite the doctrinal difficulties.
So amid a hail of protests from his friends, family and colleagues , the Alsatian-born theologian resigned his post and reentered the university as a student of a punishing seven-year course towards the degree of a doctorate in medicine, a subject in which he had little knowledge or previous aptitude.
He did this because he wanted to spread the Gospel by the example of the Christian labour of healing, rather than through the verbal process of preaching. He ardently believed that this ‘service without sound’ would be acceptable in any branch of Christian teaching. Walk the talk.
Vithal C Nadkarni
Monday, April 12, 2010
What Choice Divine Free Will?
Do we possess free will — the power to prefer one thing over another that is unconstrained by external circumstances or by an agency such as fate or divine resolve? A lot of intellectual, emotional and spiritual investment has been made over many human ages towards the resolution of this inquiry with no final consensus of opinion anywhere near the horizon so far.
But philosophical wrangling aside, one thing is fairly clear: if we don’t have free will, then neither do other animals. Meaning, it makes little sense for panthers or bacteria to have free will and not us. At the same time, if it turns out we do have free will, then so should members of our ancestral lineage — at least to some extent.
And so they seem to. When bacteria are placed in lactose, the decision to synthesise an enzyme called beta-galactosidase is immediate because it’s vital for their existence. But from this if we claim the little organisms choose life over death, anti-free will proponents would counterclaim it’s only due to what their DNA determines them to do.
However, if lactose is not available and death is imminent, other bacterial mechanisms are brought into action that detect any other possible fuel that then alters their action so that they can utilise whatever else is available. The problem is that this can also be ascribed to DNA determination.
But, again, from this to extrapolate that the reason we choose, for example, to see Alice in Wonderland and not 3 Idiots on a particular day is because of what our genes make us do seems totally unfair, if not absolutely absurd. We might as well pardon all serial murderers and rapists.
For, it’s also true that we are now capable of choosing to make things like geneticallymodified plants of certain crops like soybean, corn, cotton and many others that can be tweaked to develop desired properties. Or we can choose to make element 118 as scientists have just done. None of these things are found in nature or anywhere else in the entire universe for that matter.
Our DNA did this? Not our will? If we choose to believe that these things were already predetermined, then what choice do we have than to also believe that God had to make the universe and everything in it not due to some divine resolve but because He had no choice in the matter? Now that’s the kind of un-free will we can live with since it makes us gods too.
Mukul Sharma
But philosophical wrangling aside, one thing is fairly clear: if we don’t have free will, then neither do other animals. Meaning, it makes little sense for panthers or bacteria to have free will and not us. At the same time, if it turns out we do have free will, then so should members of our ancestral lineage — at least to some extent.
And so they seem to. When bacteria are placed in lactose, the decision to synthesise an enzyme called beta-galactosidase is immediate because it’s vital for their existence. But from this if we claim the little organisms choose life over death, anti-free will proponents would counterclaim it’s only due to what their DNA determines them to do.
However, if lactose is not available and death is imminent, other bacterial mechanisms are brought into action that detect any other possible fuel that then alters their action so that they can utilise whatever else is available. The problem is that this can also be ascribed to DNA determination.
But, again, from this to extrapolate that the reason we choose, for example, to see Alice in Wonderland and not 3 Idiots on a particular day is because of what our genes make us do seems totally unfair, if not absolutely absurd. We might as well pardon all serial murderers and rapists.
For, it’s also true that we are now capable of choosing to make things like geneticallymodified plants of certain crops like soybean, corn, cotton and many others that can be tweaked to develop desired properties. Or we can choose to make element 118 as scientists have just done. None of these things are found in nature or anywhere else in the entire universe for that matter.
Our DNA did this? Not our will? If we choose to believe that these things were already predetermined, then what choice do we have than to also believe that God had to make the universe and everything in it not due to some divine resolve but because He had no choice in the matter? Now that’s the kind of un-free will we can live with since it makes us gods too.
Mukul Sharma
Deeds Matter, Words Scatter
Story-tellers and mythmakers have minted gold from twins with opposite traits of the psychological spectrum. Of course polar opposites are stereotypical. The way they divide the world into neat good and bad, black and white, categories is formulaic too. Real life is much too complex and chaotic. This could explain why the trick works in reel life for audiences hungering for certainty in potboilers like Sita aur Gita or classics such as Man in the Iron Mask.
But should authors take the liberty of applying such schizoid schemes to epic figures that have a massive, global hold on the public imagination? Take, for instance, one of the amazing’ or adbhut versions of the epic Ramayana. This has a shadow double (Chaya) of Sita going through travails of being kidnapped and jailed by a demon while the real heroine lounges safely in her father’s palace. Why hasn’t it caught on unlike the one in which the heroine triumphs over her suffering as a single, integrated individual?
Imagine the Bhagavad Gita with the good’/valiant protagonist Arjuna dithering in the same chariot alongside his cheerful double the bad’/ villainous twin who is itching for that Mother of All Massacres. What sense would the Lord’s Song make in such circumstances?
For many it would be pure blasphemy even to imagine such an interpolation. Should we respect such sentiments? How sacred’ is an individual’s artistic freedom? How far should we go in the defence of poetic license’ when it picks up a fight with public faith and militant religiosity? Such questions have begun to buzz with the publication of Philip Pullman’s
The Good Man Jesus and Scoundrel Christ.
As one of Britain’s better-known atheists, Pullman has already cast the Church as an oppressive tyrant and God as a weak old man in his Dark Materials trilogy (made into a movie with a villainous Nicole Kidman). In this allegorical retelling, Mary has twins, Jesus and Christ. The former becomes a charismatic preacher and the shadowy Christ is encouraged by a mysterious stranger to become an agent for his brother’s teachings. Christ, says the stranger, is the word of God. Jesus must die so he can be reborn and humankind can know eternal truth. So Christ becomes Judas and Jesus dies. The resurrection’ of Christ pretty much seals humanity’s fate. Of course you don’t have to buy the spiel. For what you do matters far more than what you say.
Vithal C Nadkarni
But should authors take the liberty of applying such schizoid schemes to epic figures that have a massive, global hold on the public imagination? Take, for instance, one of the amazing’ or adbhut versions of the epic Ramayana. This has a shadow double (Chaya) of Sita going through travails of being kidnapped and jailed by a demon while the real heroine lounges safely in her father’s palace. Why hasn’t it caught on unlike the one in which the heroine triumphs over her suffering as a single, integrated individual?
Imagine the Bhagavad Gita with the good’/valiant protagonist Arjuna dithering in the same chariot alongside his cheerful double the bad’/ villainous twin who is itching for that Mother of All Massacres. What sense would the Lord’s Song make in such circumstances?
For many it would be pure blasphemy even to imagine such an interpolation. Should we respect such sentiments? How sacred’ is an individual’s artistic freedom? How far should we go in the defence of poetic license’ when it picks up a fight with public faith and militant religiosity? Such questions have begun to buzz with the publication of Philip Pullman’s
The Good Man Jesus and Scoundrel Christ.
As one of Britain’s better-known atheists, Pullman has already cast the Church as an oppressive tyrant and God as a weak old man in his Dark Materials trilogy (made into a movie with a villainous Nicole Kidman). In this allegorical retelling, Mary has twins, Jesus and Christ. The former becomes a charismatic preacher and the shadowy Christ is encouraged by a mysterious stranger to become an agent for his brother’s teachings. Christ, says the stranger, is the word of God. Jesus must die so he can be reborn and humankind can know eternal truth. So Christ becomes Judas and Jesus dies. The resurrection’ of Christ pretty much seals humanity’s fate. Of course you don’t have to buy the spiel. For what you do matters far more than what you say.
Vithal C Nadkarni
Save Your Dreams From Setbacks
Harold Varmus, who won the Nobel Prize for medicine for his work on oncogenes, marvels at the role chance and dogged persistence have played in his career. His father was a general physician and wanted the son to follow his example. Varmus obliged by taking premed courses as an undergraduate. But academic life challenged “presumptions about my future as a physician”, and he drifted from science to philosophy and finally to English literature. He was also active in politics and journalism.
Varmus went on to join graduate studies in literature at Harvard University. But within the year, he again felt the lure of medicine. He was rebuffed when he tried to switch fields and went back to literature “uninspired by thoughts of a career in that field”.
After a year, he applied once again to Harvard medical school. But this time around he was rejected more sternly: The dean who chastised him in an interview for being “inconstant and immature” advised him to go and join the military instead! Varmus ended up with a Master's degree in English with a focus on Anglo-Saxon and metaphysical poetry.
However, the freshly minted scholar found that friends, who had chosen medicine seemed more fulfilled and excited about studying matters with immediate relevance to basic human needs. He also felt increasingly haunted by the thought that as a professor of literature his students would likely feel relief if he failed to show up for a lecture, whereas as a physician, his patients would be distraught if he cancelled an appointment.
So Varmus burnt his bridges once again and decided to try his luck at the Columbia College of Physicians and Surgeons. Officials here were obviously impressed with his competence in the two cultures of science and literature. He found himself welcomed enthusiastically. Varmus dove headfirst into medical school only to shift after graduation from practice to research, after a three-month stint as an intern in a mission hospital in Bareilly.
He soon found himself at the forefront of cancer research at the University of California, San Francisco, on his way to a Nobel Prize, to become a “global scientist-statesman who bridges science and society to solve the weightiest challenges”. The moral of the story is to never let rejection daunt your dreams. If the school you love rebuffs you, immerse yourself in the one that welcomes you.
VITHALC NADKARNI
Varmus went on to join graduate studies in literature at Harvard University. But within the year, he again felt the lure of medicine. He was rebuffed when he tried to switch fields and went back to literature “uninspired by thoughts of a career in that field”.
After a year, he applied once again to Harvard medical school. But this time around he was rejected more sternly: The dean who chastised him in an interview for being “inconstant and immature” advised him to go and join the military instead! Varmus ended up with a Master's degree in English with a focus on Anglo-Saxon and metaphysical poetry.
However, the freshly minted scholar found that friends, who had chosen medicine seemed more fulfilled and excited about studying matters with immediate relevance to basic human needs. He also felt increasingly haunted by the thought that as a professor of literature his students would likely feel relief if he failed to show up for a lecture, whereas as a physician, his patients would be distraught if he cancelled an appointment.
So Varmus burnt his bridges once again and decided to try his luck at the Columbia College of Physicians and Surgeons. Officials here were obviously impressed with his competence in the two cultures of science and literature. He found himself welcomed enthusiastically. Varmus dove headfirst into medical school only to shift after graduation from practice to research, after a three-month stint as an intern in a mission hospital in Bareilly.
He soon found himself at the forefront of cancer research at the University of California, San Francisco, on his way to a Nobel Prize, to become a “global scientist-statesman who bridges science and society to solve the weightiest challenges”. The moral of the story is to never let rejection daunt your dreams. If the school you love rebuffs you, immerse yourself in the one that welcomes you.
VITHALC NADKARNI
It's Sometimes Simple: Arriving Matters
A friend once said, “But what do we do when we get there after driving 12 hours?” That particular time, the “there” in question was a little hill station which apparently still lay cocooned in its sleepy colonial legacy — but it could have been anywhere the group had decided to go that year to have elicited an identical comment from one or the other of us. For, depending on our profound priorities, some needed an accessible high-end food joint to get hamburgers and pizzas, some a nearby fastwater for fly fishing; others required historical structures within spitting distance, yet others cable TV in their hotel. Whatever the instance, however, the arrogant wail invariably was: “But what do we do when we get there?”
What indeed? After all if there’s an effort involved, there must be a payoff attached. Also, we lose sight of the question so often that the more streetsmart amongst us tend to fall into the refined trap of subscribing to the often convenient belief that it’s the travelling which matters, not the arriving. (Your vacation begins when you lock the front door. The start of a thousand mile journey is taking the first step. Etc.)
Yet the main reason why all arrivals are not created equal and there’s so frequently a sense of deficit after reaching one’s destination is because the planning was reward oriented to begin with without realising the plan itself was the prize. Apparently Arjuna too was famously ploughing the same furrow on a battlefield in Kurukshetra when he stopped to ask his illustrious charioteer “What’s in it for me?” Krishna had to remind him repeatedly there was no goal involved but that of action without afterthought.
Evolution too, plays out along similar lines. Admittedly its efforts are purposeless and goals blind but in the end after multi millions of years it appears — even if in hindsight — that its progress can be justified because it didn’t necessarily orient itself to the best arrival scenario.
It also doesn’t pat itself on the back for having perfected the adaptability of a humming bird or virus, nor does it regret the many who got ruthlessly eliminated along the way. But if a whole species had an overmind it would probably say to itself, “Hey, what do you know, a whole lot of us made it! At least to this point. Of course what we do from here is another story and some of us, again, may not make it. But it’s worth a try, right?”
Mukul Sharma
What indeed? After all if there’s an effort involved, there must be a payoff attached. Also, we lose sight of the question so often that the more streetsmart amongst us tend to fall into the refined trap of subscribing to the often convenient belief that it’s the travelling which matters, not the arriving. (Your vacation begins when you lock the front door. The start of a thousand mile journey is taking the first step. Etc.)
Yet the main reason why all arrivals are not created equal and there’s so frequently a sense of deficit after reaching one’s destination is because the planning was reward oriented to begin with without realising the plan itself was the prize. Apparently Arjuna too was famously ploughing the same furrow on a battlefield in Kurukshetra when he stopped to ask his illustrious charioteer “What’s in it for me?” Krishna had to remind him repeatedly there was no goal involved but that of action without afterthought.
Evolution too, plays out along similar lines. Admittedly its efforts are purposeless and goals blind but in the end after multi millions of years it appears — even if in hindsight — that its progress can be justified because it didn’t necessarily orient itself to the best arrival scenario.
It also doesn’t pat itself on the back for having perfected the adaptability of a humming bird or virus, nor does it regret the many who got ruthlessly eliminated along the way. But if a whole species had an overmind it would probably say to itself, “Hey, what do you know, a whole lot of us made it! At least to this point. Of course what we do from here is another story and some of us, again, may not make it. But it’s worth a try, right?”
Mukul Sharma
Sunday, April 4, 2010
In Stages, Build That Indifference
Resentments caused by various factors, including ingratitude, leave enduring scars on the psyche. Various techniques - ancient and modern - have been tried. In many cases, these have only temporary effect, as the mind, unable to reconcile, goes back to square one. It is well accepted that it is necessary to cultivate that benign indifference and imperviousness to shallow relationships, let downs, pretensions and unfair responses.
But then, in actual practice, how can this be done? In fact, could one pre-empt even having to face such situations? The answer, perhaps, lies in evolving gradually and in stages, starting from that stage, which is simple and practical. Further progress would naturally follow.
This process is conceived of by sage Patanjali. The starting point, easy to practise, is cultivation of affinity and friendship (maitri) to all those manifestations in life, which would bring with them true joy and peace (sukah), identified through simple observation and discrimination. The next stage is compassion (karuna) to all the suffering (dukah), whereby the seeker, sensitised to his own goodness, divines that he is truly fortunate, in comparison is a major step to freedom from resentments.
Maitri and karuna naturally lead the evolved spirit to appreciate and delight in the virtuous and the sublime (punya), whereby pursuit of excellence in one's chosen fields, which would follow, would ensure that the aspirant is always engrossed in the worthwhile. He would thus have no time or inclination to even think of possible acts of ingratitude or imperfections around.
Invariably and naturally, the fourth and final stage of indifference (upekshana) to all the dross and evil (apunya) would be reached, where one obtains that healthy ego and resilient psyche, which would not ever be affected by any 'dreary intercourse of daily life'. Indeed and in fact, this approach rooted in clarity, poise and precision (yogastah) is verily that state of supreme dexterity in action (karmasu koushalam). This is also that state, where the person would not ever have to even confront any deceits, shallow relationships or pretensions. This is because he would always, through right choices and priorities, be in that evolved company and companionship, marked by virtues and true self esteem - that world where all that he beholds would always be "full of blessings"!
But then, in actual practice, how can this be done? In fact, could one pre-empt even having to face such situations? The answer, perhaps, lies in evolving gradually and in stages, starting from that stage, which is simple and practical. Further progress would naturally follow.
This process is conceived of by sage Patanjali. The starting point, easy to practise, is cultivation of affinity and friendship (maitri) to all those manifestations in life, which would bring with them true joy and peace (sukah), identified through simple observation and discrimination. The next stage is compassion (karuna) to all the suffering (dukah), whereby the seeker, sensitised to his own goodness, divines that he is truly fortunate, in comparison is a major step to freedom from resentments.
Maitri and karuna naturally lead the evolved spirit to appreciate and delight in the virtuous and the sublime (punya), whereby pursuit of excellence in one's chosen fields, which would follow, would ensure that the aspirant is always engrossed in the worthwhile. He would thus have no time or inclination to even think of possible acts of ingratitude or imperfections around.
Invariably and naturally, the fourth and final stage of indifference (upekshana) to all the dross and evil (apunya) would be reached, where one obtains that healthy ego and resilient psyche, which would not ever be affected by any 'dreary intercourse of daily life'. Indeed and in fact, this approach rooted in clarity, poise and precision (yogastah) is verily that state of supreme dexterity in action (karmasu koushalam). This is also that state, where the person would not ever have to even confront any deceits, shallow relationships or pretensions. This is because he would always, through right choices and priorities, be in that evolved company and companionship, marked by virtues and true self esteem - that world where all that he beholds would always be "full of blessings"!
K VIJAYARAGHAVAN
Equip To Beat The Self-defeat
Have you heard the story about the fellow who sent flowers to his friend who was opening a new restaurant? When he arrived at the gala opening ceremony, he looked for his flowers. Imagine his shock when he found a wreath of snow-white flowers edged with black satin instead, with a note that said, 'May you rest in peace.' He nearly burst a vessel as called up his florist in a towering rage.
Without missing a beat, the florist replied icily, 'Buddy, I'm not worried about you as much because as we speak, there's this guy being buried who got a dozen blood-red roses that said, 'Good luck in your new location! 'Oh It's another matter that the guy with the roses was six feet underground, couldn't read and the one standing six feet above could! You could laugh about it so long as it did not affect you personally, right? But think, what if it did?
It is entirely up to you to make whatever you will of it. Many people remain blissfully unaware of the extent of freedom that every moment of choice offers them. So afraid are some of us of open-ended uncertainty that choice represents that we are willing to pre-empt or sabotage it by cultivating 'self-defeating'' modes of response. 'Of all human psychology, self-defeating behaviour is among the most puzzling and hard to change. After all, everyone assumes that people hanker after happiness and pleasure. Have you ever heard of a self-help book on being miserable?" writes psychologist Richard Friedman in his NYT column.
'So what explains those men and women who repeatedly pursue a path that leads to pain and disappointment? Perhaps there is a hidden psychological reward,' he says. The Freudian explanation falls back on our socalled innate death drive (as opposed to the erotic impulse). That presumably impels us to pursue our own downfall and death.
Another explanation entails anxiety about success rather than a secret desire to fail; yet another involves low self-esteem, fragile egos or even emotional stress. Results from various studies suggest that cultivating strong feelings of social inclusion, a sort of self-validating or affirmative action directed towards oneself and networking work as antidotes to self-defeating routines.
As the Bhagvad Gita says, the self alone (atmeva) can be the self's own best friend (atmano-bandhu) or worst enemy (ripuratmana). Raise yourself with your own bootstraps. Laugh.
Without missing a beat, the florist replied icily, 'Buddy, I'm not worried about you as much because as we speak, there's this guy being buried who got a dozen blood-red roses that said, 'Good luck in your new location! 'Oh It's another matter that the guy with the roses was six feet underground, couldn't read and the one standing six feet above could! You could laugh about it so long as it did not affect you personally, right? But think, what if it did?
It is entirely up to you to make whatever you will of it. Many people remain blissfully unaware of the extent of freedom that every moment of choice offers them. So afraid are some of us of open-ended uncertainty that choice represents that we are willing to pre-empt or sabotage it by cultivating 'self-defeating'' modes of response. 'Of all human psychology, self-defeating behaviour is among the most puzzling and hard to change. After all, everyone assumes that people hanker after happiness and pleasure. Have you ever heard of a self-help book on being miserable?" writes psychologist Richard Friedman in his NYT column.
'So what explains those men and women who repeatedly pursue a path that leads to pain and disappointment? Perhaps there is a hidden psychological reward,' he says. The Freudian explanation falls back on our socalled innate death drive (as opposed to the erotic impulse). That presumably impels us to pursue our own downfall and death.
Another explanation entails anxiety about success rather than a secret desire to fail; yet another involves low self-esteem, fragile egos or even emotional stress. Results from various studies suggest that cultivating strong feelings of social inclusion, a sort of self-validating or affirmative action directed towards oneself and networking work as antidotes to self-defeating routines.
As the Bhagvad Gita says, the self alone (atmeva) can be the self's own best friend (atmano-bandhu) or worst enemy (ripuratmana). Raise yourself with your own bootstraps. Laugh.
Vithal C Nadkarni
The Growth Beneath Our Morality
At first sight it would seem like the high moral ground so prized by ethicists, believers and moral philosophers just got its foundation rocked by a high Richter. It appears that some deep questions concerning our rules of conduct and ability to judge the goodness or badness of other's actions depend at least partly — if not significantly (or, indeed, totally) — on how optimally our physical brains are functioning. Simply put, neuroscientists at MIT have recently shown they can change people's moral judgements by disrupting the normal activity of a specific area of the brain with magnetic pulses lasting as little as 500 milliseconds.
For example, after volunteers had been subjected to this noninvasive procedure they were presented with the following query: How acceptable is it for a man to let his girlfriend walk across a bridge he knows is unsafe if, after crossing it, the structure remains intact and she's unharmed? Almost all subjects answered that the boyfriend would not have done anything wrong. In effect, they were unable to make moral judgements that require an understanding of other people's intentions and, instead, were judging solely on the basis of the action's outcome. It also means that such people comprising a jury would acquit a person who had shot to kill but missed.
The study's findings will undoubtedly come as a huge bonanza for defenders of the unfaith who are sure to pounce upon them to further what they've been saying all along — namely, morality is not dependent on or guided by some first moral cause. Rather it's just a function of the way a bunch of nerve bundles are arranged in some part of the brain. Tinker with them a little and the whole human edifice of right and wrong, good and bad, values , principles and notions of justice comes toppling down in a broken heap of artificial constructs with zilch truth value.
And they would be right. In other instances too when the brain's ability to function in the way it's supposed to is disrupted — perhaps through trauma, accident , disease or birth defect — people's powers of higher reasoning frequently get affected and they don't behave normally . But that doesn't alter the fact that when, as in the overwhelming majority of cases, the brain does behave the way it's meant to — the way it's designed by evolution — the higher moral ground, for whatever it's worth, is preserved.
For example, after volunteers had been subjected to this noninvasive procedure they were presented with the following query: How acceptable is it for a man to let his girlfriend walk across a bridge he knows is unsafe if, after crossing it, the structure remains intact and she's unharmed? Almost all subjects answered that the boyfriend would not have done anything wrong. In effect, they were unable to make moral judgements that require an understanding of other people's intentions and, instead, were judging solely on the basis of the action's outcome. It also means that such people comprising a jury would acquit a person who had shot to kill but missed.
The study's findings will undoubtedly come as a huge bonanza for defenders of the unfaith who are sure to pounce upon them to further what they've been saying all along — namely, morality is not dependent on or guided by some first moral cause. Rather it's just a function of the way a bunch of nerve bundles are arranged in some part of the brain. Tinker with them a little and the whole human edifice of right and wrong, good and bad, values , principles and notions of justice comes toppling down in a broken heap of artificial constructs with zilch truth value.
And they would be right. In other instances too when the brain's ability to function in the way it's supposed to is disrupted — perhaps through trauma, accident , disease or birth defect — people's powers of higher reasoning frequently get affected and they don't behave normally . But that doesn't alter the fact that when, as in the overwhelming majority of cases, the brain does behave the way it's meant to — the way it's designed by evolution — the higher moral ground, for whatever it's worth, is preserved.
Mukul Sharma
Radicals Have Relatives Too
Raimon Panikkar, the 92-year-old mysticmaster of comparative religions who lives in Spain is the son of a Hindu Indian father and a Roman Catholic Spanish mother. He's been described as a living monument to inter-religious dialogue. Panikkar studied science and philosophy at university and was ordained as a Catholic priest in 1946. Thereafter he left Europe to pursue religious studies in India at a number of places and eventually went over to teach in America starting from Harvard University and retired as emeritus professor at University of California, Santa Barbara.
“Everything he's written has been an attempt to clarify, first to himself and then also to his friends and readers, the insights and experiences he's had of reality,” writes Milena Carrara in the celebratory volume Fullness of Life saluting Panikkar's seminal, multilingual contributions to a wide range of fields. “Reality which is always seen in its trinitarian aspect he calls cosmotheandric — that is, God, world and man. He insists that these are not separate entities but are common invariants that form one fundamental unity in radical relativity.”
When Panikkar speaks of the experience of life, he does not mean the experience of his own life but life “that is not mine yet which lives within; which the Vedas say never dies; which some call divine” .
Not being a specialisation, the mystical experience of life is open to all mankind, he adds; “Every man is a mystic to the extent in which he is aware of the life which flows within him: his greatness lies in this awareness.”
In Worship and Secular Man, Panikkar goes on to clarify that “only worship can prevent secularisation from becoming inhuman; and only secularisation can save worship from becoming meaningless. “Western culture is attracted by the world of things as they reveal to us the transcendence of reality,” Panikkar writes, “while eastern culture is attracted by the world of the subject, which reveals to us the impermanence of that very reality. Both are preoccupied with the problem of ‘ultimacy,' which many traditions have called God.”
He then goes on to offer nine ways in which one may not speak of God for every attempt to absolutise the symbol ‘God' destroys links not only with the divine mystery but also with people of those cultures that do not feel the necessity of this symbol.
As Shankara says, Neti, Neti.
“Everything he's written has been an attempt to clarify, first to himself and then also to his friends and readers, the insights and experiences he's had of reality,” writes Milena Carrara in the celebratory volume Fullness of Life saluting Panikkar's seminal, multilingual contributions to a wide range of fields. “Reality which is always seen in its trinitarian aspect he calls cosmotheandric — that is, God, world and man. He insists that these are not separate entities but are common invariants that form one fundamental unity in radical relativity.”
When Panikkar speaks of the experience of life, he does not mean the experience of his own life but life “that is not mine yet which lives within; which the Vedas say never dies; which some call divine” .
Not being a specialisation, the mystical experience of life is open to all mankind, he adds; “Every man is a mystic to the extent in which he is aware of the life which flows within him: his greatness lies in this awareness.”
In Worship and Secular Man, Panikkar goes on to clarify that “only worship can prevent secularisation from becoming inhuman; and only secularisation can save worship from becoming meaningless. “Western culture is attracted by the world of things as they reveal to us the transcendence of reality,” Panikkar writes, “while eastern culture is attracted by the world of the subject, which reveals to us the impermanence of that very reality. Both are preoccupied with the problem of ‘ultimacy,' which many traditions have called God.”
He then goes on to offer nine ways in which one may not speak of God for every attempt to absolutise the symbol ‘God' destroys links not only with the divine mystery but also with people of those cultures that do not feel the necessity of this symbol.
As Shankara says, Neti, Neti.
Vithal C Nadkarni
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