It is probably correct to say that Hinduism is the oldest of the world's major religions, but it is just as correct to say it is the newest. Some might make the case that Hinduism is not a world religion at all. There are those who would go so far as to say there is really no such thing as "a religion" of Hinduism, at least not as religion is usually defined.
In the nineteenth century, British scholars began learning about Indian religions and forced them into a category they could understand, calling it "Hinduism" and arbitrarily determining that India was the home of a world religion that could be compared to Christianity. Largely as a result of their discussions with Brahmin priests, these scholars deduced a theologically coherent system of doctrine that was quite foreign to most Hindus, who usually felt little need for self-description at all, unless they needed to fill in the official bureaucratic forms imposed on them with the coming of British rule.
Hinduism is not so much a single religion as it is a family of religions. A Hindu might be pantheistic or polytheistic, monotheistic, agnostic, or atheist. He or she might live a very active life or be contemplative in the extreme. Hindus might visit a temple daily or never go at all. They may be very involved in family life or leave loved ones completely behind in a search for ultimate meaning. Until the end of the official caste system (See Caste System), their one social requirement was to abide by the rituals and rules of their particular caste in the hope that by doing so, their next birth might be a happier one and bring them one step closer to spiritual completion.
In the last years of the nineteenth century, Swami Vivekananda first helped Westerners begin to understand Hindu thought. His lectures in England and America convinced a huge following that Hinduism was steeped in ancient wisdom. But at the same time, he convinced Hindus to accept other points of view and open themselves up to Western-style scientific, intellectual methods of thought. The resulting blend of Eastern spirituality and Western materialism produced thinkers such as Deepak Chopra, a brilliant lecturer who also happens to be a fully accredited medical doctor and engaging author.
After saying all this, though, we are no closer to understanding Hinduism. So we must do what we have just accused the early British scholars of doing. We must attempt to bring the various strains of Hinduism together under one roof and then describe it as if it were a single structure.
According to Advaita Vedanta, one of Hinduism's influential schools, Hinduism, reduced to its simplest idea, is that everything is one reality-one profound unity (See Brahman/Atman). Brahman, the undefined principle ("Him the tongue cannot reach"), is one with the essence of humanity and all things. "Thou art that" is the declaration of the Upanishads, one of the Hindu scriptures. The soul, Atman, is one with Brahman, who is both the cause and the substance of the universe.
But while that statement expresses essential Hinduism, to leave it at that makes it sound much too simplistic. To delve deeper, we have to muddy the water in an attempt to clarify. When we do so, we discover that much of what modern quantum physicists are currently saying about the way the universe essentially works, expressing their findings in numbers and patterns of thought that seem quite contrary to logic, the Hindu rishis, or holy men, said through metaphor more than three thousand years ago.
We begin with the human experience of reality. The Hindu will say that everything humans see and experience is real. But because it is in a constant pattern of flux and change, it is ultimately an illusion (maya). The book you hold in your hand seems very solid and permanent. Drop it on your foot and you will experience that fact with painful consequences. But that experience is not the only reality, because the truth is that the book is made up of atoms, constantly in motion and never at rest, as is the foot you dropped the book on. All is motion. Nothing is solid at all. It just appears that way. If you leave the book out in the rain for a few years, you will see a different reality. Bury it in the earth and come back a thousand years from now and you will discover that what it appears to be now is only one stage on a journey that lasts forever. On a totally different level, does the reality of the book consist of material elements at all? Is it paper and ink, or the essence of the ideas that are written on the paper with the ink? In other words, does the book continue long after it is destroyed? Are the paper and ink simply one incarnation of eternal ideas that may someday take the form of governments or corporations that the words of the book define?
Scientists tell us energy cannot be manufactured or destroyed. It just changes form. The Hindu has no problem with that concept at all. The book was once an acorn and then a tree. It might someday become soil that nurtures a flower that produces energy for a honey bee that creates nourishment for a reader who will someday hold a book in her hand. The process continues forever. This is the wheel of samsara, the unending wheel of life.
Humans experience life in four stages of consciousness:
Ordinary Waking Consciousness. This is the consciousness you are experiencing right now. It is the condition in which we spend most of our time; it operates on the level of day-to-day activity that takes us through the process of living.
Imagination, Fantasy, and Dreams. You never know quite where someone really is. She might appear to be standing at a bench, putting widgets on gizmos all day. But in her mind she could be riding the Outback or climbing Mount Fuji. You can't tell because you can only see the body. Sometimes, when you read a good book or think deep thoughts, imagination and fantasy can be more real than the activity the body happens to be involved in.
Prajna ("Sleep without Dreams"). In this state, as in deep sleep without dreams, you are not limited to thinking about anything. When you think about something specific, you are limiting yourself, preventing yourself from thinking about an infinite variety of other things. So any thought is also a limitation, keeping you from being one with everything. Rather than being immersed in the One, you are entangled in the Many. This state escapes that limitation.
The Om State. "Om" was the initial sound by which the universe was breathed into existence. The Svetasvatara Upanishad puts it this way:
The Self, whose symbol is Om, is the omniscient Lord. He is not born. He does not die. He is neither cause nor effect. This Ancient One is unborn, imperishable, eternal: though the body be destroyed, he is not killed.
The Self is not known through study of scriptures, nor through subtlety of the intellect, nor through much learning; but by him who longs for him is he known. Verily unto him does the Self reveal his true being.
By learning a man cannot know him, if he desist not from evil, if he control not his senses, if he quiet not his mind, and practice not meditation.
The self (Atman) is really Brahman, the only being, the universal being, the One. So the self, the ego, and the essence of the universe are really one. They just don't appear to be.
Put differently, we are the essence of the stars. We were both present at and formed by the Big Bang and will someday return to the singularity that began it all. The atoms in our body were once one with every single other atom ever formed and will again be one with all of them.
We don't experience it that way, but that's just because what we experience is an illusion. All we see is the present incarnation of atoms around us. The truth is that not one of them was present at our birth. Not one cell in our bodies is the same as those that formed us when we came into this life. And not a single cell now present in our bodies will accompany us to the grave.
So who is this illusion, the self, that feels so permanent? We can't point to anything that remains the same. It's all coming and going.
This is an example of very modern science and very old Hinduism saying exactly the same thing.
"I'm not the person I used to be," says the old-timer. Both the twenty-first-century scientist and the Hindu of three thousand years ago would agree.
We may know all of this, but we are usually not purposefully aware of it.
Why is it that a person will suddenly step in front of a speeding car to pull a baby to safety? He will risk his own life to save someone he has never seen before. Why? The Hindu would say that at the moment of extreme danger, the mind gets left behind and the senses take over. The person knows, in that moment of truth, that he and the baby are one, and that each is diminished if the other dies.
What is the purpose of a mountain with no one to appreciate it? What is the value of a person without a mountain to contemplate? The mountain and the person are one, engaged in a universal dance. Someday the person will be buried under the mountain and change form, adding to the bulk of the mountain while being reincarnated into a different form. The mountain will someday disappear. So will the person. But their essences will continue in different forms.
Sources: Ellwood, Robert S., and Barbara A. McGraw. Many Peoples, Many Faiths. 6th ed. Upper Saddle River, NJ: Prentice Hall, 1999. Mishra, Pankaj. “The God of New Things.” Boston Sunday Globe, December 1, 2002.
