No theme is more common to every aspect of man’s activity than that of life—unless it be its counterpart, death. It has been dealt with realistically, philosophically, poetically. It has been made the underlying lesson of mystical teaching since earliest times. Birth, death, resurrection were the pivots of man’s first religious experience.
It is but natural, then, to expect that an opposition so fundamental as that of life and death should be common to the experience of all and that it should be represented by the pillars of opposition. Common as the theme is to all systems of mystic instruction, it is rarely set forth in its right relationship in Omneity’s pattern. It is often sentimentalized and distorted out of an undue deference to everyday viewpoints. In Martinism, however, life and death are presented as two facets, or aspects, fundamental to the expression of Omneity. One without the other would make impossible the rhythmic ebb and flow of the great dual law. In fact, it would negate it entirely.
It is true that we have been taught that life is good and death is evil; that one is to be sought after and the other avoided; that the coming of life is an occasion for joy and the coming of death a time of sorrow. It is also true that we have thought of birth as a beginning and of death as an end. All of these viewpoints, however, have arisen out of imperfect knowledge and fear—a knowledge that sees nothing of plan or order in the Life- Death process and a fear that nothing exists or can exist unless tangible to the material senses. So, we foolishly rejoice over one manifestation of Omneity’s pattern and, equally foolish, we weep over another; yet the same benevolence and wisdom show themselves in both.
Life and death, as evidences of the outbreathing into material form and of the inbreathing out of material form, are the positive and negative appearances of the same divine force.
With this pair of opposites, more than with any other, the Man of Desire finds it hardest to deal, for the attachments are greater and the demands made upon his confidence in Omneity are sharper and more insistent.
One can only seek to comprehend the complete operation of the law in order to free himself from sentimentality and yet retain his sympathy for the ignorant rejoicing and suffering of the profane.
Most Men of Desire are familiar with the Christian parable wherein the Master Jesus restored the widow’s son to life. Not so many are acquainted with the equally thoughtful parable to be found in Buddhist writings. In many ways, Martinists will acknowledge in it a teaching more profound and generally helpful than that usually obtained from orthodox
Christian instruction.
In the Buddhist story, a young mother, Kisagotami, lost an infant son. She went from door to door with the dead infant in her arms, asking for medicine to restore it. At last, she came to the one called the Buddha, the Enlightened One.
“Do you know of medicine good for my boy?” she asked.
“I know of some,” said the teacher. “Bring me a handful of mustard seed.”
“I shall bring it,” said the mother.
“But,” continued the teacher, “let it be taken from a house wherein no husband, father, son, or slave has died.”
The young woman went quickly in search of the mustard seed, still carrying her dead child. Everywhere, people offered her the seed; but when she asked whether any father, son, husband, or slave had died there, all were astounded. “What is that you are asking?” they asked. “The living are the few; the dead are the many.” In every house, she found someone had died. One said, “My parents are dead”; another said, “I have lost a son”; and a third said, “My servant is dead.” No single house had escaped. Thus, Kisagotami learned that “the law of death is” and that “among all living creatures, there is no permanence.”
Watching the lights in the houses and reflecting that they burned now but were later extinguished, Kisagotami heard in her heart the words of the Buddha: All living beings resemble the flame of the lamps. One moment, they are lighted; the next, they are extinguished. Only those who have arrived at Nirvana are at rest.
If, as we are told, the wise man sees no occasion for grief at the hour of death because through it one comes again to his original estate, it is equally certain that he sees in birth but a temporary season of instruction and testing under the guidance of Omneity. The perplexities of one’s birth lead one in maturity to question the meaning and purpose of life. Such questioning prompts a serious consideration of death. We are reminded in the Associate Degree that in the ordinary state of health the three vital parts of man—the ame, the plastic envelope, and the physical body—are closely joined. The illustration used was that of a balloon and its basket being joined by a connecting link or hook. The balloon itself represented the ame; the basket, the material body; and the connecting hook, the plastic envelope. It might be said that no sooner are the three joined by birth than the vicissitudes of human experience bear down upon them to shake them apart. One clings to life because it is the means of furthering the growth of the soul personality. Because its prospects seem too final, one makes every effort to postpone death. Yet both life and death are a part of Omneity’s rhythm, and the value of one must not be set higher than that of the other.
Summary
- The theme of Life-Death is common to everyone’s experience.
- Birth has been considered a time of rejoicing and death a time of sorrow because man’s limited view has prevented his acceptance of them as aspects of the same law.
- The Buddhist parable of Kisagotami and her dead child sets forth the fact that life and death are inseparable.
- The Master may allow a brief discussion of the contrasting viewpoints contained in the Buddhist parable and the Christian one of the Master Jesus’ restoration to life of the widow’s son (Luke 7:11-15).
Reference
The Martinist Pentacle 