BYWAYS OF BLESSEDNESS/PART 5
5.
Hidden Sacrifices
“What
need hath man
Of
Eden passed, or Paradise to come,
When
heaven is round us and within ourselves?”
...
“Lowliness
is the base of every virtue:
Who
goes the lowest, builds, doubt not, the safest.”
Bailey.
“Truth
is within ourselves; it takes no rise
From
outward things, whate’er you may believe.”
Browning.
It
is one of the paradoxes of Truth that we gain by giving up; we lose by greedily
grasping. Every gain in virtue necessitates some loss in vice; every accession
of holiness means some selfish pleasure yielded up; and every forward step on
the path of Truth demands the forfeit of some self-assertive error.
He
who would be clothed in new garments must first cast away the old, and he who
would find the True must sacrifice the false. The gardener digs in the weeds in
order that they may feed, with their decay, the plants which are good for food;
and the Tree of Wisdom can only flourish on the compost of uprooted follies.
Growth - gain - necessitates sacrifice - loss.
The
true life, the blessed life, the life that is not tormented with passions and
pains, is reached only through sacrifice, not necessarily the sacrifice of
outward things, but the sacrifice of the inward errors and defilements, for it
is these, and these only, which bring misery into life. It is not the good and
true that needs to be sacrificed but the evil and false; therefore all
sacrifice is ultimately gain, and there is no essential loss. Yet at first the
loss seems great, and the sacrifice is painful, but this is because of the
self-delusion and spiritual blindness which always accompany selfishness, and
pain must always accompany the cutting away of some selfish portion of one’s
nature. When the drunkard resolves to sacrifice his lust for strong drink he
passes through a period of great suffering, and he feels that he is forfeiting
a great pleasure; but when his victory is complete, when the lust is dead, and
his mind is calm and sober, then he knows that he has gained incalculably by
the giving up of his selfish animal pleasure. What he has lost was evil and
false and not worth keeping - nay, its keeping entailed continual misery - but
what he has gained in character, in self-control, in soberness had greater
peace of mind, is good and true, and it was necessary that he should acquire
it.
So
it is with all true sacrifice; it is at first, and until it is completed,
painful, and this is why men shrink from it. They cannot see any purpose in
abstaining from and overcoming selfish gratification, it seems to them like
losing so much that is sweet; seems to them like courting misery, and giving up
all happiness and pleasure. And this must be so; for if a man could know that
by giving up his particular forms of selfishness his gain in happiness would be
immeasurably greater, unselfishness (which is now so difficult of attainment) would
then be rendered infinitely more difficult of achievement, for his desire for
the greater gain - his selfishness - would thereby be greatly intensified.
No
man can become unselfish, and thereby arrive at the highest bliss, until he is
willing to lose, looking for neither gain nor reward: it is this state of mind
which constitutes unselfishness. A man must be willing to humbly sacrifice his
selfish habits and practices because they are untrue and unworthy, and for the
happiness of those about him, without expecting any reward or looking for any
good to accrue to himself; nay, he must be prepared to lose for himself, to
forfeit pleasure and happiness, even life itself, if by so doing he can make
the world more beautiful and happy. But does he lose? Does the miser lose when
he gives up his lust for gold? Does the thief lose when he abandons stealing?
Does the libertine lose when he sacrifices his unworthy pleasures? No man loses
by the sacrifice of self, or some portion of self; nevertheless, he thinks he
will lose by so doing, and because he so thinks he suffers and this is where
the sacrifice comes in - this is where he gains by losing.
All
true sacrifice is within; it is spiritual and hidden, and is prompted by deep
humility of heart. Nothing but the sacrifice of self can avail, and to this
must all men come sooner or later during their spiritual evolution. But in what
does this selfabnegation consist? How is it practised? Where is it sought and
found? It consists in overcoming the daily proneness to selfish thoughts and
acts; it is practised in our common intercourse with others; and it is found in
the hour of tumult and temptation.
There
are hidden sacrifices of the heart which are infinitely blessed both to him
that makes them and those for whom they are made, albeit their making costs
much effort and some pain. Men are anxious to do some great thing, to perform
some great sacrifice which lies beyond the necessities of their experience,
while all the time, perhaps, they are neglecting the one thing needful, are
blind to that sacrifice which by its very nearness is rendered imperative.
Where lurks your besetting sin? Where lies your weakness? Where does temptation
assail you most strongly? There shall you make your first sacrifice, and shall
find thereby the way unto your peace. Perhaps it is anger or unkindness. Are
you prepared to sacrifice the angry impulse and word, the unkind thought and
deed? Are you prepared to silently endure abuse, attack, accusation, and
unkindness, refusing to pay back these in their own coin? Nay, more, are you
prepared to give in return for these dark follies kindness and loving
protection? If so, then you are ready to make those hidden sacrifices which
lead to beatific bliss.
If
you are given to anger or unkindness offer it up. These hard, cruel, and wrong
conditions of mind never brought you any good; they can never bring you
anything but unrest, misery, and spiritual blindness. Nor can they ever bring
to others anything but unhappiness. Perhaps you will say: “But he was unkind to
me first; he treated me unjustly.” Perhaps so, but what a poor excuse is this!
What an unmanly and ineffectual refuge! For if his unkindness toward you is so
wrong and hurtful yours to him must be equally so. Because another is unkind to
you is no justification of your own unkindness, but is rather a call for the
exercise of great kindness on your part. Can the pouring in of more water
prevent a flood? Neither can unkindness lessen unkindness. Can fire quench
fire? Neither can anger overcome anger.
Offer
up all unkindness, all anger. “It takes two to make a quarrel;” don’t be the
“other one.” If one is angry or unkind to you try to find out where you have
acted wrongly; and, whether you have acted wrongly or not, do not throw back
the angry word or unkind act. Remain silent, self-contained, and kindly
disposed; and learn, by continual effort in right-doing, to have compassion
upon the wrongdoer.
Perhaps
you are habitually impatient and irritable. Know, then, the hidden sacrifice
which it is needful that you should make. Give up your impatience. Overcome it
there where it is wont to assert itself. Resolve that you will yield no longer
to its tyrannical sway but will conquer it and cast it out. It is not worth
keeping a single hour, nor would it dominate you for another moment if you were
not labouring under the delusion that the follies and perversities of others
render impatience on your part necessary. Whatever others may do or say, even
though they may mock and taunt you, impatience is not only unnecessary, it can
never do any other than aggravate the evil which it seeks to remove. Calm,
strong, and deliberate action can accomplish much, but impatience and its
accompanying irritability are always indications of weakness and inefficiency.
And what do they bestow upon you? Do they bestow rest, peace, happiness, or
bring these to those about you? Do they not, rather, make you and those about
you wretched? But though your impatience may hurt others it certainly hurts and
wounds and impoverishes yourself most of all.
Nor
can the impatient man know aught of true blessedness, for he is a continual
source of trouble and unrest to himself. The calm beauty and perpetual
sweetness of patience are unknown to him, and peace cannot draw near to soothe
and comfort him.
There
is no blessedness anywhere until impatience is sacrificed; and its sacrifice
means the development of endurance, the practice of forbearance, and the
creation of a new and gentler habit of mind. When impatience and irritability
are entirely put away, are finally offered up on the altar of unselfishness,
then is realised and enjoyed the blessedness of a strong, quiet, and peaceful
mind.
“Each
hour we think
Of
others more than self, that hour we live again,
And
every lowly sacrifice we make
For
other’s good shall make life more than self,
And
ope the windows of thy soul to light
From
higher spheres. So hail thy lot with lot with joy.”
Then
there are little selfish indulgences, some of which appear harmless, and are
commonly fostered; but no selfish indulgence can be harmless, and men and women
do not know what they lose by repeatedly and habitually succumbing to
effeminate and selfish gratifications. If the God in man is to rise strong and
triumphant, the beast in man must perish. The pandering to the animal nature,
even when it appears innocent and seems sweet, leads away from truth and
blessedness. Each time you give way to the animal within you, and feed and
gratify him, he waxes stronger and more rebellious, and takes firmer possession
of your mind, which should be in the keeping of Truth. Not until a man has
sacrifice some apparently trivial indulgence does he discover what strength,
what joy, what poise of character and holy influence he has all along been
losing by that gratification; not until a man sacrifices his hankering for
pleasure does he enter into the fulness of abiding joy.
By
his personal indulgences a man demeans himself, forfeits self-respect to the
extent and frequency of his indulgence, and deprives himself of exemplary
influence and the power to accomplish lasting good in his work in the world. He
also, by allowing himself to be led by blind desire, increases his mental
blindness, and fails of that ultimate clearness of vision, that clarified
percipience which pierces to the heart of things and comprehends the real and
the true. Animal indulgence is alien to the perception of Truth. By the
sacrifice of his indulgences man rises above confusion and doubt, and arrives
at the possession of insight and surety.
Sacrifice
your cherished and coveted indulgence; fix your mind on something higher,
nobler, and more enduring than ephemeral pleasure; live superior to the craving
for sense-excitement, and you will live neither vainly nor uncertainly.
Very
far-reaching in its effect upon others, and rich with the revelations of Truth
for him who makes it, is the sacrifice of self-assertion - the giving up of all
interference with the lives, views, or religion of other people, substituting
for it an understanding love and sympathy. Self-assertion or opinionativeness
is a form of egotism or selfishness most generally found in connection with
intellectualism and dialectical skill. It is blindly presumptive and
uncharitable, and, more often than not, is regarded as a virtue; but when once
the mind has opened to perceive the way of gentleness and self-sacrificing love
then the ignorance, deformity, and painful nature of self-assertion become
apparent.
The
victim of self-assertion, setting up his own opinions as the standard of right
and the measure of judgment, regards all those as wrong whose lives and
opinions run counter to his own, and, being eager to put others right, is
thereby prevented from putting himself right. His attitude of mind brings about
him opposition and contradiction from people who are anxious to put him right,
and this wounds his vanity and makes him miserable, so that he lives in an
almost continual fever of unhappy, resentful and uncharitable thoughts. There
can be no peace for such a man, no true knowledge, and no advancement until he
sacrifices his desire to bend others to his own way of thinking and acting. Nor
can he understand the hearts of others, and enter lovingly into their strivings
and aspirations. His mind is cramped and embittered, and he is shut out from
all sweet sympathy and spiritual communion.
He
who sacrifices the spirit of self-assertion, who in his daily contact with
others put aside his prejudices and opinions, and strives both to learn from
others and to understand them as they are, who allows to others perfect liberty
(such as he exercises himself) to choose their own opinions, their own way in
life - such a man will acquire a deeper insight, a broader charity, and a
richer bliss than he has hitherto experienced, and will strike a byway of
blessedness from which he has formerly shut out.
Then
there is the sacrifice of greed and all greedy thoughts. The willingness that
others should possess rather than we; the not-coveting of things for ourselves
but rejoicing that they are possessed and enjoyed by others, that they bring
happiness to others; the ceasing to claim one’s “own”, and the giving up to
others, unselfishly and without malice, that which they exact. This attitude of
mind is a source of deep peace and great spiritual strength. It is the
sacrifice of self-interest. Material possessions are temporary, and in this
sense we cannot truly call them our own - they are merely in our keeping for a
short time - but spiritual possessions are eternal and must ever remain with
us. Unselfishness is a spiritual possession which is only secured by ceasing to
covet material possessions and enjoyments, by ceasing to regard things as for
our own special and exclusive pleasure, and by our readiness to yield them up
for the good of others.
The
unselfish man, even though he finds himself involved in riches, stands aloof,
in his mind, from the idea of “exclusive possession”, and so escapes the
bitterness and fear and anxiety which ever accompany the covetous spirit. He
does not regard any of his outward accretions as being too valuable to lose,
but he regards the virtue of unselfishness as being too valuable to the world -
to suffering humanity - to lose or cast away.
And
who is the blessed man? He who is ever hankering after more possessions,
thinking only of the personal pleasure he can get out of them? or he who is
ever ready to give up what he has for the good and happiness of others? By
greed happiness is destroyed; by not-greed happiness is restored.
Another
hidden sacrifice, one of great spiritual beauty and of powerful efficacy in the
healing of human sorrows, is the sacrifice of hatred - the giving up of all
bitter thoughts against others, of all malice, dislike, and resentment. Bitter
thoughts and blessedness cannot dwell together. Hatred is a fierce fire that
scorches up, in the heart of him who harbours it, all the sweet flowers of
peace and happiness, and makes a hell of every place where it comes.
Hatred
has many names and many forms but only one essence - namely, burning thoughts
of resentment against others. It is sometimes, by its blind votaries called by
the name of religion, causing them to attack, slander, and persecute each other
because they will not accept each other’s views of life and death, thus filling
the earth with miseries and tears.
All
resentment, dislike, ill-thinking, and ill-speaking of others is hatred, and
where there is hatred there is always unhappiness. No one has conquered hatred
while thoughts of resentment towards others spring up in his mind. This
sacrifice is not complete until a man can think kindly of those who try to do
him wrong. Yet it must be made before true blessedness can be realised and
known. Beyond the hard, cruel, steely gates of hatred waits the divine angel of
love, ready to reveal herself to him who will subdue and sacrifice his hateful
thoughts, and conduct him to his peace.
Whatever
others may say of you, whatever they may do to you, never take offence. Do not
return hatred with hatred. If another hates you perhaps you have, consciously
or unconsciously, failed somewhere in your conduct, or there may be some
misunderstanding which the exercise of a little gentleness and reason may
remove; but, under all circumstances, “Father, forgive them” is infinitely
better, sweeter, and nobler than “I will have nothing more to do with them.”
Hatred is so small and poor, so blind and wretched. Love is so great and rich,
so far-seeing and blissful.
“The
highest culture is to speak no ill:
The
best reformer is the man whose eyes
Are
quick to see all beauty and all worth;
And
by his own discreet, well-ordered life
Alone
reproves the erring.”
Sacrifice
all hatred, slay it upon the holy altar of of devotion - devotion to others.
Think no more of any injury to your own petty self, but see to it that
henceforth you injure and wound no other. Open the flood gates of your heart
for the inpouring of that sweet, great, beautiful love which embraces all with
strong yet tender thoughts of protection and peace, leaving not one, nay, not
even he who hates or despises or slanders you, out in the cold.
Then
there is the hidden sacrifice of impure desires, of weak self-pity and
degrading self-praise, of vanity and pride, for these are unblest attitudes of
mind, deformities of heart. He who makes them, one by one, gradually subduing
and overcoming them, will, according to the measure of his success, rise above
weakness and suffering and sorrow, and will comprehend and enjoy the perfect
and imperishable blessedness.
Now,
all these hidden sacrifices which are here mentioned are pure, humble
heart-offerings. They are made within; are offered up on the sacred, lonely,
unseen altar of one’s own heart. Not one of them can be made until the fault is
first silently acknowledged and confessed. No man can sacrifice an error until
he first of all confess (to himself) “I am in error;” when, yielding it up, he
will perceive and receive the truth which his error formerly obscured.
“The
kingdom of heaven cometh not by observation,” and the silent sacrifice of self
for the good of others, the daily giving up of one’s egotistic tendencies, is
not seen and rewarded of men, and brings no loud blazon of popularity and
praise. It is hidden away from the eyes of all the world, nay, even from the
gaze of those who are nearest to you, for no eyes of flesh can perceive its
spiritual beauty. But think not that because it is unperceived it is therefore
futile. Its blissful radiance is enjoyed by you, and its power for good over
others is great and far-reaching, for though they cannot see it, nor, perhaps
understand it, yet they are unconsciously influenced by it. They will not know
what silent battles you are fighting, what eternal victories over self you are
achieving, but, they will feel your altered attitude, your new mind, wrought of
the fabric of love and loving thoughts, and will share somewhat in its
happiness and bliss. They will know nothing of the frequent fierceness of the
fight you are waging, of the wounds you receive and the healing balm you apply,
of the anguish and the after-peace; but they will know that you have grown sweeter
and gentler, stronger and more silently self-reliant, more patient and pure,
and that they are rested and helped by your presence. What rewards can compare
with this? Beside the fragrant offices of love the praises of men are gross and
fulsome, and in the pure flame of a selfless heart the flatteries of the world
are turned to ashes. Love is its own reward, its own joy, its own satisfaction;
it is the final refuge and resting-place of passion-tortured souls.
The
sacrifice of self, and the acquisition of the supreme knowledge and bliss which
it confers, is not accomplished by one great and glorious act but by a series
of lesser and successive sacrifices in the ordinary life of the world, by a
succession of steps in the daily conquest of Truth over selfishness. He who
each day accomplishes some victory over himself, who subdues and puts behind
him some unkind thought, some impure desire, some tendency to sin, is everyday
growing stronger, purer, and wiser, and every dawn finds him nearer to that
final glory of Truth which each self-sacrificing act reveals in part.
Look
not outside thee nor beyond thee for the light and blessedness of Truth, but
look within; thou wilt find it within the narrow sphere of thy duty, even in
the humble and hidden sacrifices of thine own heart.
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