Being Truly Human August 1994 Newsletter

A talk given by Phiroz Mehta at 47 Lillian Road, Richmond, London on 6^th May 1994

In the house of Life, is a door named Death. On the other side of it is Bliss. If the door claims you, the self, and ineluctably it will, you will never know that Bliss, but if you, unselfed, swing that portal fearlessly with pure hand and heart, you are at one with Bliss and you know Immortality.

Entering the stillness and the silence, Death is seen as the perfector, and the consummator. Seeing this peacefully and fearlessly, I am filled with the wonder of creative renewal. Free of psychological time and the sorrow it holds, timeless eternity is realised in every moving flicker of Time, as I die wholly to Time’s beat whilst alive in the body.

In this perfect rhythm is the dance of life, the experiencing of the deathless state. Death is not destruction nor annihilation, Death is the extinction of my illusion of continuity. So I see Death is other-life, the non-finite non-being, because of which there is no “me” to be repeated again, and I see that Death, Life’s immortal and inseparable twin, offers the hospitality of Life, incomprehensible, silent containment by the Absolute, in the unknown and unknowable eternity.

Austere? Then remember that for us who live as mortals there is only the way of love and understanding.

Heart speaks to heart noiselessly. Who loves hears. Who listens understands. So your tears can be wiped away ere they roll down. Even down here in feebleness to see and hear and understand the inconsolability of Death is to be made deathless by Life and realise its benediction.

This is Love. This is Freedom. This is Reality.

Deep in the womb of the timeless truth lies the certainty that we are not mere pawns of fate, but the bearers of a divine destiny, the destiny to be Man. It was there before the world was, hidden in the night of sleep till the dawn of awakening, and that golden daybreak glowed with sweet and silent laughter when the still mind spoke its wordless message, promising redemption through enlightenment by wisdom, peace through compassion, freedom through that beauty in which selfness is not. Such is the reality of Death. Let Death be. Power of transmutation! Restorer of union with life abundant! And the flow of this life is the stream of compassion, wisdom, truth, purity, goodness, beauty, virtue — religion in fulfilment in every moment of daily life and work.

Thus it is that Death establishes me in my aloneness even as Transcendence is the Alone, the Life which is the creative pulse. Life never stands static, nor does it move towards a goal. It writes on the edge of the Eternal Mind and laughingly erases the old word as it writes the new. The Eternal Mind itself is ever transparent, spacious, silent.

At various meetings we have considered together the identity of the one, primordial, undifferentiated creative energy and the one pure, absolute consciousness. As this creative energy differentiates and this pure consciousness proliferates, the cosmos emerges. Human beings, finite and mortal, are part of this cosmos and whilst alive can converse with each other.

Today your meeting with me is our last one, for the living person whom you knew bodily as Phiroz is dead. In due time all that made up Phiroz, the particular being, will be fully absorbed into the one universal non-being, which is nameless, infinite, eternal and immortal. That is the One Only, the Alone, the Transcendence which wholly subsumes every finite, temporal and mortal being.

Some of you may wish to preserve a memory of Phiroz. Then remember him as one who tried to live as your devoted servant for the sake of your happiness and of your fruition. So, at this last meeting please accept this message:

Even as he cared for you, do you love one another. Make each other happy and devote yourselves to bringing all creation to fruition.

When each separate being dies, Transcendence wholly subsumes that being into the deathless state, the Infinite, the Eternal, the Immortal. So, although this is our last meeting our true communion is of the deathless state. In the words of the poet Wordsworth:

…a sense sublime
Of something far more deeply interfused,
Whose dwelling is the light of setting suns,
And the round ocean, and the living air,
And the blue sky, and in the mind of man:
A motion and a spirit, that impels
All thinking things, all objects of all thought,
And rolls through all things.

So, goodbye. God be with you. May you all keep going without flagging and fare on in good health, and peace, and love.

By Robert Mehta

The trouble with having led a good, honest life is that the physical body won’t die!

Phiroz was clear that we cannot ourselves choose the moment of death, but must wait until the ‘appointed’ time, however difficult our continued physical existence may be.

Having become increasingly frail over the last years, Phiroz was unable to recover from a severe bronchial illness, and died peacefully on the morning of 2nd May 1994, having had his last half cup of tea at breakfast time.

Almost one year earlier, on Thursday 27th May 1993, although frail and barely able to walk by himself, Phiroz had decided to return to India for the remaining span of his life.

“This is the exciting bit”, he said to me as the big jumbo jet accelerated down the runway at Heathrow airport.

All Phiroz’s physical needs were well provided for at the beautiful flat of his sister in Bombay, however the ‘mini-strokes’ he had suffered earlier had taken their toll and his short-term memory had become very confused, to the extent that he no longer realised how far away he was from England and his family and friends. So, although his sister was there and one or two old friends of his own generation, he began to miss his friends back in England. So, five months after leaving, he wrote to me to make arrangements to bring him back.

On the eve of his departure from India, his very good friend Mehra (who had helped to arrange his concert tours in the thirties) came to wish him goodbye. She knew it would be their last meeting, and as she left with tears in her eyes she took his hand and kissed it.

The flight back was long and arduous, and Phiroz found the constant vibration too much to allow him to sleep. In spite of this stress, one of the Singapore Airlines stewards commented that he had rarely met a passenger who was so polite.

Back in this country, Phiroz was obviously in need of full-time nursing care, and I found a well-appointed nursing home near my house in Stroud. The staff, although sometimes a little inefficient, were very caring and became very fond of Phiroz.

To the very end he retained his strong will and sense of humour:

“Watch me do my frog walk” — this meant working his way slowly from his armchair back to his bed using hands alternately on the table and bed.

One day when I told him about the rooks building their nests in the trees outside and making rather a lot of noise about it, he said, “If I try to sing, even the crows would weep!”

His funeral was as he had wanted it, both moving and dignified. I’m sure he will forgive me for not fulfilling one of his final requests. Ever careful with money, he said I should not waste money on his funeral.

Don’t bother with a wooden coffin — a cardboard box will do!

By George Piggott

The lighthouse with its attendant keeper provides a guiding light for travellers on a specific journey. The keeper along with the lighthouse work as one, in the sense that the purpose is to provide a constant beacon of light, to indicate position and to warn of possible dangers en route. A feeling of gratitude is present by those in need of this service. With the introduction of modern technology, the beacon will still shine, even without the master of the light being present. The main feature is movement and observation, but most important “awareness”.

Our master of the light, Phiroz Mehta, passed away on Monday 2nd May 1994, aged 91 years. Phiroz always referred to himself as a fellow-student; he was a scholar, an academic, author and an authority on world religions.

For the writer to comment on the professional achievements of Phiroz Mehta would be inappropriate, this is best left to those most qualified to do so. As one of many who were on a journey of enquiry into a deeper understanding of life, it was a privilege to find a person not only of great insight and wisdom, but one whose warmth, patience, humour and humility were unique in that they touched the hearts of all those persons destined to share his thoughts and moments. There was a warm personal greeting on arrival at the meetings, and on departure, his genuine caring concern for each individual’s well being was selfless, as was his gratitude for the journeys travelled by his fellow-students to the talks and discussions he gave over a period of twenty five years or more, most of which were recorded on audio tape for future reference. A mammoth achievement, a dedication of compassion to humanity.

Phiroz Mehta, the master of the light, has bidden us a final farewell. His peaceful, utter stillness may be complemented by our own ongoing movements. Movement is the clouds, sea, the universe, our own ongoing thoughts and memories.

The best way we could show our affection, gratitude and appreciation would be to try to emulate his selfless contribution. He has lightened our darkness. We have a personal choice, by mindful observation and attentive listening we may heighten our own awareness to become a light unto ourselves. This could ignite a spark of light in others, leading to his ultimate and sincere wish that we all lead our daily lives as true Human Beings, an Illumination of conscience, an openness for All.

Phirozshah Dorabji Mehta is at rest. We in movement become his beacon. This was the man.

By Professor Noel King and Krim Natirbov

“Caesar has not returned to the camp, has he?”  My teacher insisted the answer was implied in the question and the answer was “no.”

Phiroz was academically sound as any Professor, his logic rigorous, his knowledge of the sources impeccable. But he had no title, no Chair, no tenured salary. He never took refuge in his status, never belittled the simple faithful who actually believed the great teachings. He was as critical and could be as deconstructive as any, but left a place in the hermeneutic of suspicion for the God hypothesis.

He was never a Guru though he had a charisma and bearing which inspired devotion and the desire to hand over one’s life, but he firmly parried any such build-up on the part of his followers.  His focus was on the teachings, not his own, but of the great teachers, and on training the mind to grow to her full spiritual stature till she could ask and answer the questions for herself.

So the answer is “No, he was not, but yet he was.” But even so it was more than “yes” and “no” or even “no” and “yes”.

The work must continue, and we who knew him face to face have a special task.

By Sylvia Swain

One who sees the Way in the morning can gladly die in the evening.

Confucius

Although he preferred to be regarded as our fellow student, to us, who clearly looked to him and accepted him as a teacher, Phiroz gave this one concession: “If you learn something from me, then you confer teacher-hood upon me.”

The relationship between a loved and venerated teacher and his close students can have surprisingly deep roots in the psyche, as we soon discover after his loss. We may well fear, not only that a rare presence has gone from our lives, but also that a fount of wisdom and source of light has been cut off; but that fear might be seen on reflection to be an incomplete understanding of his message.

Those who can really teach religion acquire a special status, and in every religious canon there are included stories of the reaction of the followers to the death of the teacher. Such stories form an important part of the canon. When Jesus prophesied his coming death to his disciples, he said:

It is expedient for you that I go away: for if I go not away, the Comforter will not come unto you.

St. John, 16:7

What is meant by the Comforter? The word comfort derives from the Latin jortis, meaning strength. A comforter is a strengthener in time of trouble. Jesus explained:

But the Comforter, which is the Holy Ghost, whom the Father will send in my name, he shall teach you all things, and bring all things to your remembrance, whatsoever I have said unto you.

St. John, 14:26

The last days of the Buddha also have much to teach.

The Buddha was resting in the Mallas’ Sal-grove attended by Ananda, and the Venerable Upavana was standing in front of the Lord, fanning him, when the Lord told him to move aside. This puzzled Ananda and so he asked the Lord to explain.

Ananda, the devas from ten world-spheres have gathered to see the Tathagata … and they are grumbling, ‘We have come a long way to see the Tathagata. It is rare for a Tathagata, a fully enlightened Buddha, to arise in the world, and tonight in the last watch the Tathagata will attain final Nibbana, and this mighty monk is standing in front of the Lord preventing us from getting a last glimpse of the Tathagata!’

“But, Lord, what kind of devas can the Lord perceive?”

Ananda, there are sky-devas, whose minds are earth bound, they are weeping and tearing their hair, raising their arms, throwing themselves down and twisting and turning, crying: ‘All too soon the Blessed Lord is passing away, all too soon the Well-Farer is passing away, all to soon the Eye of the World is disappearing!’ And there are earth-devas whose minds are earth bound, who do likewise. But those devas who are free from craving endure patiently, saying: ‘All compounded things are impermanent — what is the use of this?’

Thus have I Heard by M. Walshe, p. 263

Later Ananda went into his lodging and stood lamenting, leaning on the door-post:

Alas, I am still a learner with much to do! And the Teacher is passing away, who was so compassionate to me!

Thus have I Heard by M. Walshe, p. 265

The Lord, wondering where he was, enquired of the other monks, sent for Ananda and said:

Enough, Ananda, do not weep and wail: Have I not already told you that all things that are pleasant and delightful are changeable, subject to separation and becoming other? So how could it be, Ananda … that it should not pass away? For a long time, Ananda, you have been in the Tathagata’s presence, showing loving-kindness in act of body, speech and mind, beneficially, blessedly, wholeheartedly and unstintingly. You have achieved much merit, Ananda. Make the effort, and in a short time you will be free of the corruptions. (i.e. become liberated)

Thus have I Heard by M. Walshe, 265

And then the Buddha spoke to all the Bhikkhus around and praised Ananda for all his totally faithful and devoted service to him personally. Perhaps we can recognise ourselves when we hear stories like these of the feelings and reactions of those whose teacher has died and who need to come to terms with what it means to them.

Firstly we need to remember that every teacher was once at the beginning of his path, every teacher has at some time looked to another as a teacher and, going through the whole compass of human experience, hope and fear, gain and loss, has had, finally, to be alone to discover the inner teacher, that original teacher of teachers.

We too in the context of our lives, with our problems and abilities, have chosen the religious way. It is a very testing way of life to follow, and in due course of time there comes the great loss which is the great test for us, and its outcome is crucial. Will we simply bewail our lot, like those sky-devas whose minds were earth-bound, blame our fate, give up or look for another to call teacher, or will it be for us a time of transformation? Will it be a time for the renewal of our allegiance to that most worthwhile life, the religious life, the living of which is the cure for ill and the only lasting answer to the losses and disappointments of this earthly life? When we find ourselves in such a difficult position, silent meditation is the recommended way of opening the heart, and now is the time that we may well discover that the voice of the comforter is the voice of the true teaching given over many years by the beloved teacher himself, and we recall and perhaps understand more deeply many of the things we have been taught. As we sit in our silent communion, we may then realise the presence of the teacher within, the teacher not lost to us, but the voice of our own experience, of which our teacher has always been the interpreter for us. Finding this teacher we too can be of help to others. Phiroz used his manifold gifts of presentation to enable all comers to understand their own religiousness better, and now it is up to us to carry on and help as many people as wish it, to share his legacy, discovering with us the ever-increasing depth of meaning which lies at the heart of all the great religions and the healing power of the “religious life”, which was his life’s work.

Perhaps we may consider the valedictory words of the Buddha, words Phiroz frequently quoted, to be also Phiroz’s valediction to us: “Keep going without flagging.”

By Doctor Max Craven-Jackson

There is nobody — absolutely nobody — who can be said even vaguely to put one in mind of Phiroz, and we shall never see his like again. … A veritable King among men. Phiroz was a spiritual giant, and we shall never again have the enormous good fortune of knowing such a man. I think he was one of the great holy ones — comparable to the greatest of spiritual teachers, and I loved the man. … He died, but he will live forever in the hearts of those who knew the wonder of him, and gained spiritual benefit from his teaching, for, despite his denial of it, he taught us all so much that we would never have gleaned from any other source. … Phiroz was the greatest spiritual influence for me.

By Percy Bysshe Shelley

The One remains, the many change and pass;
Heaven’s light forever shines,
Earth’s shadows fly;
Life, like a dome of many-coloured glass,
Stains the white radiance of Eternity,
Until Death tramples it to fragments…