3. Essenism And Christianity.
It was shown above that the investigations of Frankel and others failed to discover in the talmudical writings a single reference to the Essenes, which is at once direct and indisputable. It has now appeared that they have also failed (and this is the really important point) in showing that the ideas and practices generally considered characteristic of the Essenes are recognised and incorporated in these representative books of Jewish orthodoxy; and thus the hypothesis that Essenism was merely a type, though an exaggerated type, of pure Judaism falls to the ground.
Some affinities indeed have been made out by Frankel and by those who have anticipated or followed him. But these are exactly such as we might have expected. Two distinct features combine to make up the portrait of the Essene. The Judaic element is quite as prominent in this sect as the non-Judaic. It could not be more strongly emphasized than in the description given by Josephus himself. In everything therefore which relates to the strictly Judaic side of their tenets and practices, we should expect to discover not only affinities, but even close affinities, in talmudic and rabbinic authorities. And this is exactly what, as a matter of fact, we do find. The Essene rules respecting the observance of the sabbath, the rites of lustration, and the like, have often very exact parallels in the writings of more orthodox Judaism. But I have not thought it necessary to dwell on these coincidences, because they may well be taken for granted and my immediate purpose did not require me to emphasize them.
And again; it must be remembered that the separation between Pharisee and Essene cannot always have been so great as it appears in the Apostolic age. Both sects apparently arose out of one great movement, of which the motive was the avoidance of pollution[409]. The divergence therefore must have been gradual. At the same time, it does not seem a very profitable task to write a hypothetical history of the growth of Essenism, where the data are wanting; and I shall therefore abstain from the attempt. Frankel indeed has not been deterred by this difficulty; but he has been obliged to assume his data by postulating that such and such a person, of whom notices are preserved, was an Essene, and thence inferring the character of Essenism at the period in question from his recorded sayings or doings. But without attempting any such reconstruction of history, we may fairly allow that there must have been a gradual development; and consequently in the earlier stages of its growth we should not expect to find that sharp antagonism between the two sects, which the principles of the Essenes when fully matured would involve. |Hence the possibility of their appearing in the records of orthodox Judaism.| If therefore it should be shown that the talmudical and rabbinical writings here and there preserve with approval the sayings of certain Essenes, this fact would present no difficulty. At present however no decisive example has been produced; and the discoveries of Jellinek for instance[410], who traces the influence of this sect in almost every page of Pirke Aboth, can only be regarded as another illustration of the extravagance with which the whole subject has been treated by a large section of modern Jewish writers. More to the point is a notice of an earlier Essene preserved in Josephus himself. We learn from this historian that one Judas, a member of the sect, who had prophesied the death of Antigonus, saw this prince ‘passing by through the temple[411],’ when his prophecy was on the point of fulfilment (about B.C. 110). At this moment Judas is represented as sitting in the midst of his disciples, instructing them in the science of prediction. The expression quoted would seem to imply that he was actually teaching within the temple area. Thus he would appear not only as mixing in the ordinary life of the Jews, but also as frequenting the national sanctuary. But even supposing this to be the right explanation of the passage, it will not present any serious difficulty. Even at a later date, when (as we may suppose) the principles of the sect had stiffened, the scruples of the Essene were directed, if I have rightly interpreted the account of Josephus, rather against the sacrifices than against the locality[412]. The temple itself, independently of its accompaniments, would not suggest any offence to his conscience.
Nor again, is it any obstacle to the view which is here maintained, that the Essenes are regarded with so much sympathy by Philo and Josephus themselves. Even though the purity of Judaism might have been somewhat sullied in this sect by the admixture of foreign elements, this fact would attract rather than repel an eclectic like Philo, and a latitudinarian like Josephus. The former, as an Alexandrian, absorbed into his system many and diverse elements of heathen philosophy, Platonic, Stoic, and Pythagorean. The latter, though professedly a Pharisee, lost no opportunity of ingratiating himself with his heathen conquerors, and would not be unwilling to gratify their curiosity respecting a society with whose fame, as we infer from the notice of Pliny, they were already acquainted.
But if Essenism owed the features which distinguished it from Pharisaic Judaism to an alien admixture, whence were these foreign influences derived? From the philosophers of Greece or from the religious mystics of the East? On this point recent writers are divided.
Those who trace the distinctive characteristics of the sect to Greece, regard it as an offshoot of the Neopythagorean School grafted on the stem of Judaism. This solution is suggested by the statement of Josephus, that ‘they practise the mode of life which among the Greeks was introduced (καταδεδειγμένῃ) by Pythagoras[413].’ It is thought to be confirmed by the strong resemblances which as a matter of fact are found to exist between the institutions and practices of the two.
This theory, which is maintained also by other writers, as for instance by Baur and Herzfeld, has found its ablest and most persistent advocate in Zeller, who draws out the parallels with great force and precision. ‘The Essenes,’ he writes, ‘like the Pythagoreans, desire to attain a higher sanctity by an ascetic life; and the abstentions, which they impose on themselves for this end, are the same with both. They reject animal food and bloody sacrifices; they avoid wine, warm baths, and oil for anointing; they set a high value on celibate life: or, so far as they allow marriage, they require that it be restricted to the one object of procreating children. Both wear only white garments and consider linen purer than wool. Washings and purifications are prescribed by both, though for the Essenes they have a yet higher significance as religious acts. Both prohibit oaths and (what is more) on the same grounds. Both find their social ideal in those institutions, which indeed the Essenes alone set themselves to realise—in a corporate life with entire community of goods, in sharply defined orders of rank, in the unconditional submission of all the members to their superiors, in a society carefully barred from without, into which new members are received only after a severe probation of several years, and from which the unworthy are inexorably excluded. Both require a strict initiation, both desire |Zeller’s theory.| to maintain a traditional doctrine inviolable; both pay the highest respect to the men from whom it was derived, as instruments of the deity: yet both also love figurative clothing for their doctrines, and treat the old traditions as symbols of deeper truths, which they must extract from them by means of allegorical explanation. In order to prove the later form of teaching original, newly-composed writings were unhesitatingly forged by the one as by the other, and fathered upon illustrious names of the past. Both parties pay honour to divine powers in the elements, both invoke the rising sun, both seek to withdraw everything unclean from his sight, and with this view give special directions, in which they agree as well with each other as with older Greek superstition, in a remarkable way. For both the belief in intermediate beings between God and the world has an importance which is higher in proportion as their own conception of God is purer; both appear not to have disdained magic; yet both regard the gift of prophecy as the highest fruit of wisdom and piety, which they pique themselves on possessing in their most distinguished members. Finally, both agree (along with the dualistic character of their whole conception of the world ...) in their tenets respecting the origin of the soul, its relation to the body, and the life after death[414]....’
This array of coincidences is formidable, and thus skilfully marshalled might appear at first sight invincible. But a closer examination detracts from its value. In the first place the two distinctive characteristics of the Pythagorean philosophy are wanting to the Essenes. The Jewish sect did not believe in the transmigration of souls; and the doctrine of numbers, at least so far as our information goes, had no place in their system. Yet these constitute the very essence of the Pythagorean teaching. In the next place several of the coincidences are more apparent than real. Thus |The coincidences are in some cases only apparent,| for instance the demons who in the Pythagorean system held an intermediate place between the Supreme God and man, and were the result of a compromise between polytheism and philosophy, have no near relation to the angelology of the Essenes, which arose out of a wholly different motive. Nor again can we find distinct traces among the Pythagoreans of any such reverence for the sun as is ascribed to the Essenes, the only notice which is adduced having no prominence whatever in its own context, and referring to a rule which would be dictated by natural decency and certainly was not peculiar to the Pythagoreans[415]. When these imperfect and (for the purpose) valueless resemblances have been subtracted, the only basis on which the theory of a direct affiliation can rest is withdrawn. All the remaining coincidences are unimportant. Thus the respect paid to founders is not confined to any one sect or any one age. The reverence of the Essenes for Moses, and the reverence of the Pythagoreans for Pythagoras, are indications of a common humanity, but not of a common philosophy. And again the forgery of supposititious documents is unhappily not the badge of any one school. The Solomonian books of the Essenes, so far as we can judge from the extant notices, were about as unlike the tracts ascribed to Pythagoras and his disciples by the Neopythagoreans as two such forgeries could well be. All or nearly all that remains in common to the Greek school and the Jewish sect after these deductions is |and in others do not suggest any historical connexion.| a certain similarity in the type of life. But granted that two bodies of men each held an esoteric teaching of their own, they would secure it independently in a similar way, by a recognised process of initiation, by a solemn form of oath, by a rigid distinction of orders. Granted also, that they both maintained the excellence of an ascetic life, their asceticism would naturally take the same form; they would avoid wine and flesh; they would abstain from anointing themselves with oil; they would depreciate, and perhaps altogether prohibit, marriage. Unless therefore the historical conditions are themselves favourable to a direct and immediate connexion between the Pythagoreans and the Essenes, this theory of affiliation has little to recommend it.
And a closer examination must pronounce them to be most unfavourable. Chronology and geography alike present serious obstacles to any solution which derives the peculiarities of the Essenes from the Pythagoreans.
(i) The priority of time, if it can be pleaded on either side, must be urged in favour of the Essenes. The Pythagoreans as a philosophical school entirely disappear from history before the middle of the fourth century before Christ. The last Pythagoreans were scholars of Philolaus and Eurytus, the contemporaries of Socrates and Plato[416]. For nearly two centuries after their extinction we hear |Disappearance of the Pythagoreans.| nothing of them. Here and there persons like Diodorus of Aspendus are satirised by the Attic poets of the middle comedy as ‘pythagorizers,’ in other words, as total abstainers and vegetarians[417]; but the philosophy had wholly died or was fast dying out. This is the universal testimony of ancient writers. It is not till the first century before Christ, that we meet with any distinct traces of a revival. In Alexander Polyhistor[418], a younger contemporary of Sulla, for the first time we find references to certain writings, which would seem to have emanated from this incipient Neopythagoreanism, rather than from the elder school of Pythagoreans. And a little later Cicero commends his friend Nigidius Figulus as one specially raised up to revive the extinct philosophy[419]. But so slow or so chequered was its progress, that a whole century after Seneca can still speak of the |Priority of Essenism to Neopythagoreanism.| school as practically defunct[420]. Yet long before this the Essenes formed a compact, well-organized, numerous society with a peculiar system of doctrine and a definite rule of life. We have seen that Pliny the elder speaks of this celibate society as having existed ‘through thousands of ages[421].’ This is a gross exaggeration, but it must at least be taken to imply that in Pliny’s time the origin of the Essenes was lost in the obscurity of the past, or at least seemed so to those who had not access to special sources of information. If, as I have given reasons for supposing[422], Pliny’s authority in this passage is the same Alexander Polyhistor to whom I have just referred, and if this particular statement, however exaggerated in expression, is derived from him, the fact becomes still more significant. But on any showing the priority in time is distinctly in favour of the Essenes as against the Neopythagoreans.
And accordingly we find that what is only a tendency in the Neopythagoreans is with the Essenes an avowed principle and a definite rule of life. Such for instance is the case with celibacy, of which Pliny says that it has existed as an institution among the Essenes per sæculorum millia, and which is a chief corner-stone of their practical system. The Pythagorean notices (whether truly or not, it is unimportant for my purpose to enquire) speak of Pythagoras as having a wife and a daughter[423]. Only at a late date do we find the attempt to represent their founder in another light; and if virginity is ascribed to Apollonius of Tyana, the great Pythagorean of the first Christian century, in the fictitious biography of Philostratus[424], this representation is plainly due to the general plan of the novelist, whose hero is intended to rival the Founder of Christianity, and whose work is saturated with Christian ideas. In fact virginity can never be said to have been a Pythagorean principle, though it may have been an exalted ideal of some not very early adherents of the school. And the same remark applies to other resemblances between the Essene and Neopythagorean teaching. The clearness of conception and the definiteness of practice are in almost every instance on the side of the Essenes; so that, looking to the comparative chronology of the two, it will appear almost inconceivable that they can have derived their principles from the Neopythagoreans.
(ii) But the geographical difficulty also, which this theory of affiliation involves, must be added to the chronological. The home of the Essene sect is allowed on all hands to have been on the eastern borders of Palestine, the shores of the Dead Sea, a region least of all exposed to the influences of Greek philosophy. It is true that we find near Alexandria a closely allied school of Jewish recluses, the Therapeutes; and, as Alexandria may have been the home of Neopythagoreanism, a possible link of connexion is here disclosed. But, as Zeller himself has pointed out, it is not among the Therapeutes, but among the Essenes, that the principles in question appear fully developed and consistently carried out[425]; and therefore, if there be a relation of paternity between Essene and Therapeute, the latter must be derived from the former and not conversely. How then can we suppose this influence of Neopythagoreanism brought to bear on a Jewish community in the south-eastern border of Palestine? Zeller’s answer is as follows[426]. Judæa was for more than a hundred and fifty years before the Maccabean period under the sovereignty first of the Egyptian and then of the Syrian Greeks. We know that at this time Hellenizing influences did infuse themselves largely into Judaism: and what more natural than that among these the Pythagorean philosophy and discipline should have recommended itself to a section of the Jewish people? It may be said in reply, that at all events the special locality of the Essenes is the least favourable to such a solution: but, without pressing this fact, Zeller’s hypothesis is open to two serious objections which combined seem fatal to it, unsupported as it is by any historical notice. First, this influence of Pythagoreanism is assumed to have taken place at the very time when the Pythagorean school was practically extinct: and secondly, it is supposed to have acted upon that very section of the Jewish community, which was the most vigorous advocate of national exclusiveness and the most averse to Hellenizing influences.
It is not therefore to Greek but to Oriental influences that considerations of time and place, as well as of internal character, lead us to look for an explanation of the alien elements in Essene Judaism. And have we not here also the account of any real coincidences which may exist between Essenism and Neopythagoreanism? We should perhaps be hardly more justified in tracing Neopythagoreanism directly to Essenism than conversely (though, if we had no other alternative, this would appear to be the more probable solution of the two): but were not both alike due to substantially the same influences acting in different degrees? |to which also Pythagoreanism may have been indebted.|I think it will hardly be denied that the characteristic features of Pythagoreanism, and especially of Neopythagoreanism, which distinguish it from other schools of Greek philosophy, are much more Oriental in type, than Hellenic. The asceticism, the magic, the mysticism, of the sect all point in the same direction. And history moreover contains indications that such was the case. There seems to be sufficient ground for the statement that Pythagoras himself was indebted to intercourse with the Egyptians, if not with more strictly Oriental nations, for some leading ideas of his system. But, however this may be, the fact that in the legendary accounts, which the Neopythagoreans invented to do honour to the founder of the school, he is represented as taking lessons from the Chaldeans, Persians, Brahmins, and others, may be taken as an evidence that their own philosophy at all events was partially derived from eastern sources[427].
But, if the alien elements of Essenism were borrowed not so much from Greek philosophy as from Oriental mysticism, to what nation or what religion was it chiefly indebted? To this question it is difficult, with our very imperfect knowledge of the East at the Christian era, to reply with any confidence. |Resemblances to Parsism.|Yet there is one system to which we naturally look, as furnishing the most probable answer. The Medo-Persian religion supplies just those elements which distinguish the tenets and practices of the Essenes from the normal type of Judaism. |(i) Dualism.|(1) First; we have here a very definite form of dualism, which exercised the greatest influence on subsequent Gnostic sects, and of which Manicheism, the most mature development of dualistic doctrine in connexion with Christianity, was the ultimate fruit. For though dualism may not represent the oldest theology of the Zend-Avesta in its unadulterated form, yet long before the era of which we are speaking it had become the fundamental principle of the Persian religion. |(ii) Sun-worship.|(2) Again; the Zoroastrian symbolism of light, and consequent worship of the sun as the fountain of light, will explain those anomalous notices of the Essenes in which they are represented as paying reverence to this luminary[428]. |(iii) Angelolatry.|(3) Moreover; the ‘worship of angels’ in the Essene system has a striking parallel in the invocations of spirits, which form a very prominent feature in the ritual of the Zend-Avesta. And altogether their angelology is illustrated, and not improbably was suggested, by the doctrine of intermediate beings concerned in the government of nature and of man, such as the Amshaspands, which is an integral part of the Zoroastrian system[429]. |(iv) Magic.|(4) And once more; the magic, which was so attractive to the Essene, may have received its impulse from the priestly caste of Persia, to whose world-wide fame this form of superstition is indebted for its name. |(v) Striving after purity.|(5) If to these parallels I venture also to add the intense striving after purity, which is the noblest feature in the Persian religion, I do so, not because the Essenes might not have derived this impulse from a higher source, but because this feature was very likely to recommend the Zoroastrian system to their favourable notice, and because also the particular form which the zeal for purity took among them was at all events congenial to the teaching of the Zend-Avesta, and may not have been altogether free from its influences.
I have preferred dwelling on these broader resemblances, because they are much more significant than any mere coincidence of details, which may or may not have been accidental. Thus for instance the magi, like the Essenes, wore white garments, and eschewed gold and ornaments; they practised frequent lustrations; they avoided flesh, living on bread and cheese or on herbs and fruits; they had different orders in their society; and the like[430]. All these, as I have already remarked, may be the independent out-growth of the same temper and direction of conduct, and need not imply any direct historical connexion. Nor is there any temptation to press such resemblances; for even without their aid the general connexion seems to be sufficiently established[431].
But it is said, that the history of Persia does not favour the hypothesis of such an influence as is here assumed. The destruction of the Persian empire by Alexander, argues Zeller[432], and the subsequent erection of the Parthian domination on its ruins, must have been fatal to the spread of Zoroastrianism. From the middle of the third century before Christ, when the Parthian empire was established, till towards the middle of the third century of our era, when the Persian monarchy and religion were once more restored[433], its influence must have been reduced within the narrowest limits. |but favourable to the spread of Parsism.| But does analogy really suggest such an inference? Does not the history of the Jews themselves show that the religious influence of a people on the world at large may begin just where its national life ends? The very dispersion of Zoroastrianism, consequent on the fall of the empire, would impregnate the atmosphere far and wide; and the germs of new religious developments would thus be implanted in alien soils. For in tracing Essenism to Persian influences I have not wished to imply that this Jewish sect consciously incorporated the Zoroastrian philosophy and religion as such, but only that Zoroastrian ideas were infused into its system by more or less direct contact. And, as a matter of fact, it seems quite certain that Persian ideas were widely spread during this very interval, when the Persian nationality was eclipsed. |Indications of its influence during this period.|It was then that Hermippus gave to the Greeks the most detailed account of this religion which had ever been laid before them[434]. It was then that its tenets suggested or moulded the speculations of the various Gnostic sects. It was then that the worship of the Persian Mithras spread throughout the Roman Empire. It was then, if not earlier, that the magian system took root in Asia Minor, making for itself (as it were) a second home in Cappadocia[435]. It was then, if not earlier, that the Zoroastrian demonology stamped itself so deeply on the apocryphal literature of the Jews themselves, which borrowed even the names of evil spirits[436] from the Persians. There are indeed abundant indications that Palestine was surrounded by Persian influences during this period, when the Persian empire was in abeyance.
Thus we seem to have ample ground for the view that certain alien features in Essene Judaism were derived from the Zoroastrian religion. |Are Buddhist influences also perceptible?|But are we justified in going a step further, and attributing other elements in this eclectic system to the more distant East? The monasticism of the Buddhist will naturally occur to our minds, as a precursor of the cenobitic life among the Essenes; and Hilgenfeld accordingly has not hesitated to ascribe this characteristic of Essenism directly to Buddhist influences[437]. But at the outset we are obliged to ask whether history gives any such indication of the presence of Buddhism in the West as this hypothesis requires. Hilgenfeld answers this question in the affirmative. |Supposed Buddhist establishment at Alexandria.|He points triumphantly to the fact that as early as the middle of the second century before Christ the Buddhist records speak of their faith as flourishing in Alasanda the chief city of the land of Yavana. The place intended, he conceives, can be none other than the great Alexandria, the most famous of the many places bearing the name[438]. |The authority misinterpreted| In this opinion however he stands quite alone. Neither Köppen[439], who is his authority for this statement, nor any other Indian scholar[440], so far as I am aware, for a moment contemplates this identification. Yavana, or Yona, was the common Indian name for the Græco-Bactrian kingdom and its dependencies[441]; and to this region we naturally turn. The Alasanda or Alasadda therefore, which is here mentioned, will be one of several Eastern cities bearing the name of the great conqueror, most probably Alexandria ad Caucasum. But indeed I hardly think that, if Hilgenfeld had referred to the original authority for the statement, the great Buddhist history Mahawanso, he would have ventured to lay any stress at all on this notice, as supporting his theory. |and wholly untrustworthy in itself.|The historian, or rather fabulist (for such he is in this earlier part of his chronicle), is relating the foundation of the Mahá thúpo, or great tope, at Ruanwelli by the king Dutthagámini in the year B.C. 157. Beyond the fact that this tope was erected by this king the rest is plainly legendary. All the materials for the construction of the building, we are told, appeared spontaneously as by miracle—the bricks, the metals, the precious stones. The dewos, or demons, lent their aid in the erection. In fact
Priests gathered in enormous numbers from all the great Buddhist monasteries to do honour to the festival of the foundation. One place alone sent not less than 96,000. Among the rest it is mentioned that ‘Maha Dhammarakkito, théro (i.e. senior priest) of Yóna, accompanied by 30,000 priests from the vicinity of Alasaddá, the capital of the Yóna country, attended[442].’ It is obvious that no weight can be attached to a statement occurring as part of a story of which the other details are so manifestly false. An establishment of 30,000 Buddhist priests at Alexandria would indeed be a phenomenon of which historians have shown a strange neglect.
Nor is the presence of any Buddhist establishment even on a much smaller scale in this important centre of western civilization at all reconcilable with the ignorance of this religion, which the Greeks and Romans betray at a much later date[443]. For some centuries after the Christian era we find that the information possessed by western writers was most shadowy and confused; and in almost every instance we are able to trace it to some other cause than the actual presence of Buddhists in the Roman Empire[444]. |Strabo.|Thus Strabo, who wrote under Augustus and Tiberius, apparently mentions the Buddhist priests, the sramanas, under the designation sarmanæ, (Σαρμάνας)[445]; but he avowedly obtains his information from Megasthenes, who travelled in India somewhere about the year 300 B.C. and wrote a book on Indian affairs. |Bardesanes.|Thus too Bardesanes at a much later date gives an account of these Buddhist ascetics, without however naming the founder of the religion; but he was indebted for his knowledge of them to conversations with certain Indian ambassadors who visited Syria on their way westward in the reign of one of the Antonines[446]. |Clement of Alexandria.| Clement of Alexandria, writing in the latest years of the second century or the earliest of the third, for the first time[447] mentions Buddha by name; and even he betrays a strange ignorance of this Eastern religion[448].
Still later than this, Hippolytus, while he gives a fairly intelligent, though brief, account of the Brahmins[449], says not a word about the Buddhists, though, if he had been acquainted with their teaching, he would assuredly have seen in them a fresh support to his theory of the affinity between Christian heresies and pre-existing heathen philosophies. |A Buddhist at Athens.|With one doubtful exception—an Indian fanatic attached to an embassy sent by king Porus to Augustus, who astonished the Greeks and Romans by burning himself alive at Athens[450]–there is apparently no notice in either heathen or Christian writers, which points to the presence of a Buddhist within the limits of the Roman Empire, till long after the Essenes had ceased to exist[451].
And, if so, the coincidences must be very precise, before we are justified in attributing any peculiarities of Essenism to Buddhist influences. This however is far from being the case. They both exhibit a well-organized monastic society: but the monasticism of the Buddhist priests, with its systematized mendicancy, has little |Monasticism.| in common with the monasticism of the Essene recluse, whose life was largely spent in manual labour. |Asceticism.|They both enjoin celibacy, both prohibit the use of flesh and of wine, both abstain from the slaughter of animals. But, as we have already seen, such resemblances prove nothing, for they may be explained by the independent development of the same religious principles. One coincidence, and one only, is noticed by Hilgenfeld, which at first sight seems more striking and might suggest a historical connexion. |Four orders and four steps.|He observes that the four orders of the Essene community are derived from the four steps of Buddhism. Against this it might fairly be argued that such coincidences of numbers are often purely accidental, and that in the present instance there is no more reason for connecting the four steps of Buddhism with the four orders of Essenism than there would be for connecting the ten precepts of Buddha with the Ten Commandments of Moses. But indeed a nearer examination will show that the two have nothing whatever in common except the number. The four steps or paths of Buddhism are not four grades of an external order, but four degrees of spiritual progress on the way to nirvana or annihilation, the ultimate goal of the Buddhist’s religious aspirations. They are wholly unconnected with the Buddhist monastic system, as an organization. A reference to the Buddhist notices collected in Hardy’s Eastern Monachism (p. 280 sq.) will at once dispel any suspicion of a resemblance. A man may attain to the highest of these four stages of Buddhist illumination instantaneously. He does not need to have passed through the lower grades, but may even be a layman at the time. Some merit obtained in a previous state of existence may raise him per saltum to the elevation of a rahat, when all earthly desires are crushed and no future birth stands between him and nirvana. |Buddhist influences seen first in Manicheism.|There remains therefore no coincidence which would suggest any historical connexion between Essenism and Buddhism. Indeed it is not till some centuries later, when Manicheism starts into being, that we find for the first time any traces of the influence of Buddhism on the religions of the West[452].
It has become a common practice with a certain class of writers to call Essenism to their aid in accounting for any distinctive features of Christianity, which they are unable to explain in any other way. Wherever some external power is needed to solve a perplexity, here is the deus ex machina whose aid they most readily invoke. Constant repetition is sure to produce its effect, and probably not a few persons, who want either the leisure or the opportunity to investigate the subject for themselves, have a lurking suspicion that the Founder of Christianity may have been an Essene, or at all events that Christianity was largely indebted to Essenism for its doctrinal and ethical teaching[453]. Indeed, when very confident and sweeping assertions are made, it is natural to presume that they rest on a substantial basis of fact. Thus for instance we are told by one writer that Christianity is ‘Essenism alloyed with foreign elements’[454]: while another, who however approaches the subject in a different spirit, says; ‘It will hardly be doubted that our Saviour Himself belonged to this holy brotherhood. This will especially be apparent, when we remember that the whole Jewish community at the advent of Christ was divided into three parties, the Pharisees, the Sadducees, and the Essenes, and that every Jew had to belong to one of these sects. Jesus who in all things conformed to the Jewish law, and who was holy, harmless, undefiled, and separate from sinners, would therefore naturally associate Himself with that order of Judaism which was most congenial to his nature’.[455]|tested by facts.|I purpose testing these strong assertions by an appeal to facts.