commission to purify religion (Yasna, 44, 9). He purified it from the grossly sensual elements of daēva worship, and uplifted the idea of religion to a higher and purer sphere. The motley body of Aryan folk-belief, when subjected to the unifying thought of a speculative brain, was transformed to a self-contained theory of the universe and a logical dualistic principle. But this dualism is a temporally limited dualism—no more than an episode in the world-whole—and is destined to terminate in monotheism. Later sects sought to rise from it to a higher unity in other ways. Thus the Zarvanites represented Ormazd and Ahriman as twin sons proceeding from the fundamental principle of all—Zrvana Akarana, or limitless time.
Ethically, too, the new doctrine stands on a higher plane, and represents, in its moral laws, a superior civilization. The devil-worshippers, at their sacrifices, slay the ox; and this the daēvas favour, for they are foes to the cattle and to cattle-breeding, and friends to those who work ill to the cow. In Zoroaster's eyes this is an abomination: for the cow is a gift of Ormazd to man, and the religion of Mazda protects the sacred animal. It is the religion of the settled grazier and the peasant, while the ruder daēva-cult holds its ground among the uncivilized nomadic tribes. In an old confession of faith, the convert is pledged to abjure the theft and robbery of cattle and the ravaging of villages inhabited by worshippers of Mazda (Yasna, 12, 2).
Zoroaster's teachings show him to have been a man of a highly speculative turn, faithful, however, with all his originality, to the Iranian national character. With zeal for the faith, and boldness and energy, he combined diplomatic skill in his dealings with his exalted protectors. His thinking is consecutive, self-restrained, practical, devoid of everything that might be called fantastic or excessive. His form of expression is tangible and concrete: his system is constructed on a clearly conceived plan and stands on a high moral level; for its time it was a great advance in civilization. The doctrine of Zoroaster and the Zoroastrian Church may be summarized somewhat as follows:—
At the beginning of things there existed the two spirits who represented good and evil (Yasna, 30, 3). The existence of evil in the world is thus presupposed from the beginning. Both spirits possess creative power, which manifests itself positively in the one and negatively in the other. Ormazd is light and life, and creates all that is pure and good—in the ethical world of law, order and truth. His antithesis is darkness, filth, death, and produces all that is evil in the world. Until then the two spirits had counterbalanced one another. The ultimate triumph of the good spirit is an ethical demand of the religious consciousness and the quintessence of Zoroaster's religion.
The evil spirit with his wicked hosts appears in the Gāthās much less endowed with the attributes of personality and individuality than does Ahura Mazda. Within the world of the good Ormazd is Lord and God alone. In this sense Zoroastrianism is often referred to as the faith of Ormazd or as Mazdaism. Ormazd in his exalted majesty is the ideal figure of an Oriental king. He is not alone in his doings and conflicts, but has in conjunction with himself a number of genii—for the most part personifications of ethical ideas. These are his creatures, his instruments, servants and assistants. They are comprehended under the general name of ameshā spentā (“immortal holy ones”) and are the prototypes of the seven amshaspands of a later date. These are—(1) Vohu Manō (εὔνοια), good sense, i.e. the good principle, the idea of the good, the principle that works in man inclining him to what is good; (2) Ashem, afterwards Ashem Vahishtem (Plutarch's ἀλήθεια), the genius of truth and the embodiment of all that is true, good and right, upright law and rule—ideas practically identical for Zoroaster; (3) Khshathrem, afterwards Khshathrem Vairīm (εὐνομία), the power and kingdom of Ormazd, which have subsisted from the first but not in integral completeness, the evil having crept in like tares among the wheat: the time is yet to come when it shall be fully manifested in all its unclouded majesty; (4) Ārmaiti (θοψία), due reverence for the divine, verecundia, spoken of as daughter of Ormazd and regarded as having her abode upon the earth; (5) Haurvatāt (πλοῦτος), perfection; (6) Ameretāt, immortality. Other ministering angels are Gēush Urvan (“the genius and defender of animals”), and Sraosha, the genius of obedience and faithful hearing.
As soon as the two separate spirits (cf. Bundahish, 1, 4) encounter one another, their creative activity and at the same time their permanent conflict begin. The history of this conflict is the history of the world. A great cleft runs right through the world: all creation divides itself into that which is Ahura's and that which is Ahriman's. Not that the two spirits carry on the struggle in person; they leave it to be fought out by their respective creations and creatures which they sent into the field. The field of battle is the present world.
In the centre of battle is man: his soul is the object of the war. Man is a creation of Ormazd, who therefore has the right to call him to account. But Ormazd created him free in his determinations and in his actions, wherefore he is accessible to the influences of the evil powers. This freedom of the will is clearly expressed in Yasna, 31, 11: “Since thou, O Mazda, didst at the first create our being and our consciences in accordance with thy mind, and didst create our understanding and our life together with the body, and works and words in which man according to his own will can frame his confession, the liar and the truth-speaker alike lay hold of the word, the knowing and the ignorant each after his own heart and understanding. Ārmaiti searches, following thy spirit, where errors are found.” Man takes part in this conflict by all his life and activity in the world. By a true confession of faith, by every good deed, word and thought, by continually keeping pure his body and his soul, he impairs the power of Satan and strengthens the might of goodness, and establishes a claim for reward upon Ormazd; by a false confession, by every evil deed, word and thought and defilement, he increases the evil and renders service to Satan.
The life of man falls into two parts—its earthly portion and that which is lived after death is past. The lot assigned to him after death is the result and consequence of his life upon earth. No religion has so clearly grasped the ideas of guilt and of merit. On the works of men here below a strict reckoning will be held in heaven (according to later representations, by Rashnu, the genius of justice, and Mithra). All the thoughts, words and deeds of each are entered in the book of life as separate items—all the evil works, &c., as debts. Wicked actions cannot be undone, but in the heavenly account can be counterbalanced by a surplus of good works. It is only in this sense that an evil deed can be atoned for by a good deed. Of a real remission of sins the old doctrine of Zoroaster knows nothing, whilst the later Zoroastrian Church admits repentance, expiation and remission. After death the soul arrives at the cinvatō peretu, or accountant's bridge, over which lies the way to heaven. Here the statement of his life account is made out. If he has a balance of good works in his favour, he passes forthwith into paradise (Garō demāna) and the blessed life. If his evil works outweigh his good, he falls finally under the power of Satan, and the pains of hell are his portion for ever. Should the evil and the good be equally balanced, the soul passes into an intermediary stage of existence (the Hamēstakāns of the Pahlavi books) and its final lot is not decided until the last judgment. This court of reckoning, the judicium particulare, is called ākā. The course of inexorable law cannot be turned aside by any sacrifice or offering, nor yet even by the free grace of God.
But man has been smitten with blindness and ignorance: he knows neither the eternal law nor the things which await him after death. He allows himself too easily to be ensnared by the craft of the evil powers who seek to ruin his future existence. He worships and serves false gods, being unable to distinguish between truth and lies. Therefore it is that Ormazd in his grace determined to open the eyes of mankind by sending a prophet to lead them by the right way, the way of salvation. According to later legend (Vd., 2, l), Ormazd at first wished to entrust this task to Yima (Jemshīd), the ideal of an Iranian king. But Yima, the secular man, felt himself unfitted for it and declined it. He contented himself therefore with establishing in his paradise (vara) a heavenly kingdom in miniature, to serve at the same time as a pattern for the heavenly kingdom that was to come. Zoroaster at last, as being a spiritual man, was found fit for the mission. He experienced within himself the inward call to seek the amelioration of mankind and their deliverance from ruin, and regarded this inner impulse, intensified as it was by long, contemplative solitude and by visions, as being the call addressed to him by God Himself. Like Mahommed after him he often speaks of his conversations with God and the archangels. He calls himself most frequently manthran ( “prophet”), ratu (“spiritual authority”), and saoshyant (“the coming helper”—that is to say, when men come to be judged according to their deeds).
The full contents of his dogmatic and ethical teaching we cannot gather from the Gāthās. He speaks for the most part only in general references of the divine commands and of good and evil works. Among the former those most inculcated are renunciation of Satan, adoration of Ormazd, purity of soul and body, and care of the cow. We learn little otherwise regarding the practices connected with his doctrines. A ceremonial worship is hardly mentioned. He speaks more in the character of prophet than in that of lawgiver. The contents of the Gāthās are essentially eschatological. Revelations concerning the last things and the future lot, whether bliss or woe, of human souls, promises for true believers, threatenings for disbelievers, his firm confidence as to the future triumph of the good—such are the themes continually dwelt on with endless variations.
It was not without special reason—so Zoroaster believed—that the calling of a prophet should have taken place precisely when it did. It was, he held, the final appeal of Ormazd to mankind at large. Like John the Baptist and the Apostles of Jesus, Zoroaster also believed that the fulness of time was near, that the kingdom of heaven was at hand. Through the whole of the Gāthās runs
