Zen convinces you that everything is sacred but carefully refrains from certain actions—raising such

matters adds a dimension to a cursory view. It means having another world to dwell in. The only thing
good without qualification is not good intentions, for a willingness can be good in a narrow environment.
The only truly good thing is the expansion of vision, the expansion of one's understanding of the true
nature of everything.

Thoughts about understanding this world directly lead to the religions of the world, because the surest
way to reach the heart of a nation is through their faith, if that faith has not become fossilized. Which
differences—between living and dead religions—brings us to the constructive purpose of this book.

This is a book that takes religion seriously. It is not a tourist guide. There will be no more intermediaries
for the curious, no one rummaging through someone else's religion to find out what has surprise value;
no asceticism on nails, no crucifixion among the Penitentes in Mexico, no Tower of Silence for Parsi
exposure to vultures, no erotic statues or Tantra sex orgies. Major religions accommodate such
materials, but focusing on them is the crudest form of vulgarization.

There are subtler ways to belittle religion. One is to acknowledge its importance, but for others—for
people in the past, people of other cultures, people whose ego needs reinforcing. This is not our
approach either. Our speech will be in the third person. We will talk about Hindus, Buddhists,
Confucians, Muslims—what will be discussed are "they" and "them." But behind all this, our deepest
attention is on ourselves. The main reason why I return to the tradition of the world's great wisdom is to
seek help in issues that I myself cannot avoid. Given the fundamental similarity in human nature—we
are all more human than otherwise—I assume that these issues also concern the readers of this book.

Even the subtlest way to support religion will be avoided, namely the way that does not respect the
religion itself but because of its results—its contribution to art, or to peace of mind, or to group
cohesion. This is a book about religion that, unlike William James, is not seen as a boring habit but as an
acute fever. It's about living religion. And when religion starts to live, it shows surprising qualities. It takes
over. Everything else, though not silenced, becomes subdued and relegated to supporting roles.

Living religion confronts individuals with the most important choices that can be presented in life. It
summons the soul to the highest adventure it can undertake, a journey planned through the forests,
peaks, and deserts of the human soul. Its call is to confront reality, to master oneself. Those who dare to
hear and follow that secret call will soon realize the dangers and difficulties of this solitary journey.

Science contributes greatly to small needs, says Judge Holmes, adding that religion, however small its
success, is at least able to address the most important things. So when the lone spirit succeeds in
breaking through great conquests here, it becomes more than just a king or queen.

It becomes the redeemer of the world. Its impact lasts for thousands of years, blessing the convoluted
journey of history for centuries. "Who... has been the greatest contributor to the generation of living
humanity?" asks Toynbee. "I must say: Socrates."

The answer is not surprising, for authentic religion is the clearest gateway through which the endless
energy of the cosmos enters human life. So what can rival its power to inspire the deepest creative
centers in life? Moving out from there through myth and ritual, it provides symbols that propel history
forward, until finally its power wanes and life awaits a new redemption. This recurring pattern even leads
naughty people, like George Bernard Shaw, to conclude that religion is the only real driving force in the
world. Religion as an empowering force is what will be our goal in the following chapters.

Lastly, this book makes a real effort in communication. I see it as a translation work, which not only
attempts to penetrate the world of Hinduism, Buddhism, and Islam, but also bridges that world to the
world of readers. Religious studies can be technical and academic, but I strive not to forget the relevance
of this material to the problems faced by humanity today. "If you cannot—in the long run—tell everyone
what you have been doing," writes a great scientist who is also a great communicator, "your actions are
useless." Interest in this communication brings us back to the stance of this book on the historical
scholarship previously mentioned.

As far as I know, there is nothing in these pages that contradicts the factual evidence of history, but aside
from avoiding inaccuracies, the issue is not as simple as that. I have removed much, simplifying things
where detailed historical details seem to slow down and obscure important matters. Sometimes, I give
reasonable consequences that seem implicit, and I have introduced examples that seem relevant to the
theme but are not found in the text itself. This freedom may make some feel that this book is "out of
touch with facts," but historical accuracy is not the fundamental issue. Religion is fundamentally not
about facts; it is about meaning.

An analogy from biochemistry is very helpful here. "Although we have knowledge of the molecular
structure of proteins down to the placement of atoms in three-dimensional space, we have no idea
whatsoever about the rules for folding them into their natural shapes." An analogy of religion to the
atoms of biochemistry is the facts collected by history, sociology, anthropology, and textual studies of
religion. It may be as comprehensive as the biochemist's knowledge of the atom structure of protein
molecules; in themselves, they are lifeless. Implicitly, if not explicitly, I have tried in these chapters to
apply the "rules" that "fold" the religious facts "into their original shapes." I have tried to make them live
religiously. We will embark on a journey in space, time, and eternity.

Its place is often far, its time far, and its themes transcend space and time. We must use words that are
foreign—Sanskrit, Chinese, and Arabic. We will try to describe states of consciousness that can only be
indicated by words. We will use logic to try to corner insights that mock our efforts. And in the end, we
will fail; because we have different mindsets, we will never truly understand a religion that is not our
own. But if we take these religions seriously, we will not fail completely. And to take them seriously, we
only need to do two things. First, we need to see their adherents as men and women facing problems
like us. And second, we must discard all prejudices that can dull our sensitivity or vigilance to new
insights. If we set aside our prejudices about these religions, and regard each religion as made by people
struggling to see something that can provide help and meaning to their lives; and if we then try without
prejudice to see ourselves as they see us—if we do these things, the veil separating us from them will
turn into gauze.

A great anatomist usually closes his introductory lecture for first-year medical students with words that
can be applied to our own efforts. "In this case," he says, "we will deal with flesh, bones, cells, and
sinews, and there will be times when everything looks very cold-blooded. But never forget. This is life!"