Tao Te Ching, Laozi [the gingerbread man read aloud TXT] 📗

bk. XV par. 3, in a description of the human spirit, its name is said to be “Tʽung Ti”, which Mr. Giles renders “Of God;” Mr. Balfour, “One with God;” while my own version is “The divinity in man.” In bk. XII par. 6, we have the expression “the place of God;” in Mr. Giles, “the kingdom of God;” in Mr. Balfour, “the home of God.” In this and the former instance, the character seems to be used with the ancient meaning which had entered into folklore of the people. But in bk. VI par. 7, there is passage which shows clearly the relative position of Tao and Ti in the Taoistic system; and having called attention to it, I will go on to other points. Let the reader mark well the following predicates of the Tao:⁠—“Before there were heaven and earth, form of old, there it was, securely existing. From it came the mysterious existence of spirits; from it the mysterious existence of Ti (God). It produced heaven, it produced earth.”21 This says more than the utterance of Lao⁠—that “the Tao seemed to be before God;”⁠—does it not say that Tao was before God, and that He was what He is by virtue of its operation?

Among the various personal names given to the Tao are those of Tsao Hua, “maker and transformer,” and Tsao Wu Chê, “maker of things.” Instances of both these names are found in bk. VI parr. 9, 10. “Creator” and “God” have both been employed for them; but there is no idea of creation in Taoism.

Again and again Chuang-tzŭ entertains the question of how it was at the first beginning of things. Different views are stated. In bk. II par. 4, he says:⁠—“Among the men of old their knowledge reached the extreme point. What was that extreme point?

“Some held that at first there was not anything. This is the extreme point⁠—the utmost limit to which nothing can be added.

“A second class held that there was something, but without any responsive recognition of it (on the part of man).

“A third class held that there was such recognition, but there had not begun to be any expression of different opinions about it. It was through the definite expression of different opinions about it that there ensued injury to the (doctrine of the) Tao.”22

The first of these three views was that which Chuang-tzŭ himself preferred. The most condensed expression of it is given in bk. XII par. 8:⁠—“In the grand beginning of all things there was nothing in all the vacancy of space; there was nothing that could be name.23 It was in this state that there arose the first existence; the first existence, but still without bodily shape. From this things could be produced, (receiving) what we call their several characters. That which had no bodily shape was divided, and then without intermission there was what we call the process of conferring. (The two processes) continued to operate, and things were produced. As they were completed, there appeared the distinguishing lines of each, which we call the bodily shape. That shape was the body preserving in it the spirit, and each had its peculiar manifestation which we call it nature.”

Such was the genesis of things; the formation of heaven and earth and all that in them is, under the guidance of the Tao. It was an evolution and not a creation. How the Tao itself came⁠—I do not say into existence, but into operation⁠—neither Lao nor Chuang ever thought of saying anything about. We have seen that it is nothing material.24 It acted spontaneously of itself. Its sudden appearance in the field of nonexistence, producer, transformer, beautifier, surpasses my comprehension. To Lao it seemed to be before God. I am compelled to accept the existence of God, as the ultimate Fact, bowing before it with reverence, and not attempting to explain it, the one mystery, the sole mystery of the universe.

“The bodily shape was the body preserving in it the spirit, and each had its peculiar manifestation which we call its nature.” So it is said in the passage quoted above Chuang-tzŭ’s twelfth book, and the language shows how Taoism, in a loose and indefinite way, considered man to be composed of body and spirit, associated together, yet not necessarily dependent on each other. Little is found bearing on his tenet in the Tao Te Ching. The concluding sentence of ch. 33, “He who dies and yet does not perish, has longevity,” is of doubtful acceptation. More pertinent is the description of life as “a coming forth,” and of death as “an entering;”25 but Chuang-tzŭ expounds more fully, though after all unsatisfactorily, the teaching of their system on the subject.

At the conclusion of his third book, writing of the death of Laozi, he says, “When the master came, it was at the proper time; when he went away, it was the simple sequence (of his coming). Quiet acquiescence in what happens at its proper time, and quietly submitting (to its sequence), afford no occasion for grief or for joy. The ancients described (death) as the loosening of the cord on which God suspended (the life). What we can point to are the faggots that have been consumed; but the fire is transmitted elsewhere, and we know not that it is over and ended.”

It is, however, in connection with the death of his own wife, as related in the eighteenth book, that his views most fully⁠—I do not say “clearly”⁠—appear. We are told that when that event took place, his friend Hui-tzŭ went to condole with him, and found him squatted