1. Vedanta, A Simple Introduction Pravrajika Vrajaprana R.K. Mutt.epub

VEDANTA A Simple Introdnction

Pravrajika Vrajaprana

"A refreshingly clear and engaging introduction to Vedanta. Highly recommended." -Huston Smith, author The World's Religions

VEDANTA A Simple Introdnction

Pravrjika Vrajapmana

"A refreshingly clear and engaging itroduction to Vedanta. Highly recommended." -Huston Smith, author The World's Religions

VEDANTA A Simple Introduction

VEDANTA

A Simple Introduction

Pravrajika Vrajaprana

Vedanta Press Hollywood, California

Vedanta Press 1946 Vedanta Place Hollywood, CA 90068-3996

Copyright 1999 by Vedanta Press, Hollywood, California

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Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

Vrajaprana, Pravrajika, 1952- Vedanta: A Simple Introduction / Pravrajika Vrajaprana.

Includes bibliographical references. p. cm.

ISBN 0-87481-373-5 (alk. paper) 1. Vedanta. I. Title. B132.V3V83 1999 181'.48-dc21 99-13514 CIP

Cover Art Design copyright @ 1999 Patricia S. Leddy Iris Studio, Santa Barbara, California Printed in Canada

CONTENTS

1. VEDANTA: AN OVERVIEW 1

2. WHY ARE WE UNAWARE OF OUR DIVINITY? 4 THE CONCEPT OF MAYA

3. THE PROBLEM OF SUFFERING: 8 KARMA AND REINCARNATION

4. SPIRITUAL PRACTICE: THE YOGAS 15

5. SPIRITUAL BASICS: ETHICAL AND 37 MORAL VIRTUES

6. GOD IN HUMAN FORM: THE AVATAR 48

7. THE HARMONY OF RELIGIONS: 53 "TRUTH IS ONE; SAGES CALL IT BY VARIOUS NAMES"

8. THE ONENESS OF EXISTENCE: 60 UNITY IN DIVERSITY

9. REVITALIZATION OF AN ANCIENT PHILOSOPHY: 63 RAMAKRISHNA, THE RAMAKRISHNA ORDER, AND THE VEDANTA SOCIETIES

10. SUGGESTIONS FOR FURTHER READING 89

VEDANTA

An Overview

V 'edanta is one of the world's most ancient religious philosophies and one of its broadest. Based on the Vedas, the sacred scriptures of India, Vedanta affirms the oneness of existence, the divinity of the soul, and the harmony of religions. Vedanta is the philosophical foundation of Hinduism; but while Hinduism includes aspects of Indian culture, Vedanta is universal in its application and is equally relevant to all countries, all cultures, and all religious backgrounds.

A closer look at the word "Vedanta" is revealing: "Vedanta" is a combination of two words: "Veda" which means "knowledge" and "anta" which means "the end of" or "the goal of." In this context the goal of knowledge isn't intellectual-the limited knowledge we acquire by reading books. "Knowledge" here means the knowledge of God as well as the knowledge of our own divine nature. Vedanta, then, is the search for Self-knowledge as well as the search for God.

What do we mean when we say God? According to Vedanta, God is infinite existence, infinite consciousness, and infinite bliss. The term for this impersonal, transcendent reality is Braliman, the divine ground of being. Yet Vedanta also maintains that God can be personal as well, assuming human form in every age.

Most importantly, God dwells within our own hearts as the divine Self or Atman. The Atman is never born nor will it ever die. Neither stained by our failings nor affected by the fluctuations of the body or mind, the Atman is not subject to our grief or despair or disease or ignorance. Pure, perfect, free from limitations, the Atman, Vedanta declares, is one with Brahman. The greatest temple of God lies within the human heart.

Vedanta further asserts that the goal of human life is to realize and manifest our divinity. Not only is this possible, it is inevitable.

Our real nature is divine; Godrealization is our birthright. Sooner or later, we will all manifest our divinityeither in this or in future lives- for the greatest truth of our existence is our own divine nature.

Finally, Vedanta affirms that all religions teach the same basic truths about God, the world, and our relationship to one another. Thousands of years ago the Rig Veda declared: "Truth is one, sages call it by various names." The world's religions offer varying approaches to God, each one true and valid, each religion offering the world a unique and irreplaceable path to God-realization. The conflicting messages we find among religions are due more to doctrine and dogma than to the reality of spiritual experience. While dissimilarities exist in the external observances of the world religions, the internals bear remarkable similarities.

WHY ARE WE UNAWARE OF OUR DIVINITY?

The Concept of Maya

Vedanta declares that our real nature is divine: pure, perfect, eternally free. We do not have to become Brahman, we are Brahman. Our true Self, the Atman, is one with Brahman.

But if our real nature is divine, why then are we so appallingly unaware of it? The answer to this question lies in the

concept of maya, or ignorance. Maya is the veil that covers our real nature and the real nature of the world around us. Maya is fundamentally inscrutable: we don't know why it exists and we don't know when it began. What we do know is that, like any form of ignorance, maya ceases to exist at the dawn of knowledge, the knowledge of our own divine nature.

Brahman is the real truth of our existence: in Brahman we live, move, and have our being. "All this is indeed Brahman," the Upanishads-the scriptures that form Vedanta philosophy-declare. The changing world that we see around us can be compared to the moving images on a movie screen: without the unchanging screen in the background, there can be no movie. Similarly, it is the unchanging Brahman-the substratum of existence-in the background of this changing world that gives the world its reality.

Yet for us this reality is conditioned, like a warped mirror, by time, space, and causality-the law of cause and effect. Our vision of reality is further obscured by wrong identification: we identify ourselves with the body, mind, and ego rather than the Atman, the divine Self.

This original misperception creates more ignorance and pain in a domino effect: identifying ourselves with the body and mind, we fear disease, old age and death; identifying ourselves with the ego, we suffer from anger, hatred, and a hundred other miseries. Yet none of

this affects our real nature, the Atman.

Maya can be compared to clouds which cover the sun: the sun remains in the sky but a dense cloud cover prevents us from seeing it. When the clouds disperse, we become aware that the sun has been there all the time. Our clouds-maya appearing as egotism, selfishness, hatred, greed, lust, anger, ambition-are pushed away when we meditate upon our real nature, when we engage in unselfish action, and when we consistently act and think in ways that manifest our true nature: that is, through truthfulness, purity, contentment, self- restraint, and forbearance. This mental purification drives away the clouds of maya and allows our divine nature to shine forth.

Shankara, the great philosopher-sage of seventh-century India, used the example of the rope and the snake to illustrate the concept of maya. Walking down a darkened road, a man sees a snake; his heart pounds, his pulse quickens. On closer inspection, the "snake" turns out to be a piece of coiled rope. Once the delusion breaks, the snake vanishes forever.

Similarly, walking down the darkened road of ignorance, we see ourselves as mortal creatures, and around us, the universe of name and form, the universe conditioned by time, space, and causation. We become aware of our limitations, bondage, and suffering. On "closer inspection" both the mortal creature as well as the universe turn out to be Brahman. Once the delusion breaks, our mortality as well as the universe disappear forever. We see Brahman existing everywhere and in everything.

THE PROBLEM OF SUFFERING

Karma and Reincarnation

Human suffering is one of religion's most compelling mysteries: Why do the innocent suffer? Why does God permit evil? Is God helpless to act or does he choose not to? And if He chooses not to act, does that mean he is cruel? Or merely indifferent?

Vedanta takes the problem out of God's court and places it firmly in our own. We can blame neither God nor a devil. Nothing happens to us by the whim of some outside agency: we ourselves are responsible for what life brings us; all of us are reaping the results of our own previous actions in this life or in previous lives. To understand this better we first need to understand the law of karma.

The word "karma" comes from the Sanskrit verb kri, to do. Although karma means action, it also means the result of action. Whatever acts we have performed and whatever thoughts we have thought have created an impression, both in our minds and in the universe around us. The universe gives back to us what we have given to it: "As ye sow, so shall ye reap" as Christ said. Good actions and thoughts create good effects, bad ones create bad effects.

Mental Imprints

Whenever we perform any action and whenever we think any thought, an imprint-a kind of subtle groove-is made upon the mind. These imprints or grooves are known as samskaras. Sometimes we are conscious of the imprinting process; just as often we are not. When actions and thoughts are repeated, the grooves become deeper. The combination of "grooves"- samskaras-creates our individual characters and also strongly influences our subsequent thoughts and actions. If we anger easily, for example, we create an angry mind that is predisposed to react with anger rather than with patience or understanding. As water when directed into a narrow canal gains force, so the grooves in the mind create canals of behavior patterns which become extraordinarily difficult to resist or reverse. Changing

an ingrained mental habit literally becomes an uphill battle.

If our thoughts are predominantly those of kindness, love, and compassion, our character reflects it, and these very thoughts will be returned to us sooner or later. If we send out thoughts of hatred, anger, or pettiness, those thoughts will also be returned to us.

Our thoughts and actions aren't so much arrows as boomerangs- eventually they find their way back home. The effects of karma may come instantly, later in life, or in another life altogether; what is absolutely certain, however, is that they will appear at some time or other. Until liberation is achieved, we live and we die within the confines of the law of karma, the chain of cause and effect.

What happens at death if we haven't attained liberation?

When a person dies, the only "death" is that of the physical body. The mind, which contains a person's mental impressions, continues after the body's death. When the person is reborn, the "birth" is of a new physical body accompanied by the old mind with the impressions or "grooves" from previous lives. When the environment becomes conducive, these samskaras again reassert themselves in the new life.

Thankfully, this process doesn't go on eternally. When we attain God-realization or Self-realization, the law of karma is transcended, the Self gives up its identification with the body and mind, and regains its native freedom, perfection and bliss.

This all sounds very nice, but when we take a hard look around us, the world doesn't seem to make much sense. If we go by appearances, it would seem that countless people have escaped the noose of fate: many an evil person has died peacefully in bed. Worse, good and noble people have suffered without apparent cause, their goodness being repaid by hatred and torture. Witness the Holocaust; witness child abuse.

An Absurd Universe?

If we look only on the surface, the universe appears absurd at best, malevolent at worst. But that's because we're not looking deeply; we're only viewing this lifetime, seeing neither the lives that precede this one nor the lives that may follow. When we see a calamity or a triumph, we're seeing only one freeze frame of a very, very long movie. We can see neither the beginning nor the end of the movie.

What we do know, however, is that everyone, no matter how depraved, will eventually, through the course of many lifetimes and undoubtedly through much suffering, come to realize his or her own divine nature. That is the inevitable happy ending of the movie.

Karma = Fatalism?

Doesn't the law of karma make Vedanta a cold and fatalistic philosophy? Not in the slightest.

Vedanta is both personally empowering and deeply compassionate. First, if we have created-through our own thoughts and actions-the life that we are leading today, we also have the power to create the life that we will live tomorrow. Whether we like it or not, whether we want to take responsibility or not, that's what we are doing every step of the way. Vedanta doesn't allow us to assign blame elsewhere: every thought and action builds our future experience.

Doesn't the law of karma then imply that we can be indifferent to our fellow beings because, after all, they're only getting what they deserve?

Absolutely not. If a person's karma is such that he or she is suffering, we have an opportunity to alleviate that suffering in whatever way we can: doing so would be good karma. We need not be unduly heroic, but we can always offer a helping hand or at least a kind word. If we choose not to do whatever is in our limited power to alleviate the pain of those around us, we're chalking up bad karma for ourselves. In fact, we're really hurting ourselves.

Oneness is the law of the universe, and that truth is the real root of all acts of love and compassion. The Atman, my true Self, is the same Spirit that dwells in all; there cannot be two Atmans. Consciousness cannot be divided; it's all-pervasive. My Atman and your Atman cannot be different. For that reason Vedanta says: Love your neighbor as yourself because your neighbor is yourself.

SPIRITUAL PRACTICE

The Yogas

While in recent years the word "yoga" has been heard more in gyms than in religious discourse, "yoga" in its original sense has little to do with exercise. "Yoga" comes from the Sanskrit verb yuj, to yoke or unite. The goal of yoga is to unite oneself with God; the practice of yoga is the path we take to accomplish this.

Spiritual aspirants can be broadly classified into four psychological types: the predominantly emotional, the predominantly intellectual, the physically active, the meditative. There are four primary yogas designated to "fit" each psychological type.

We should state from the beginning that these categories are not airtight compartments. Indeed, it would be psychologically disastrous for anyone to be completely emotional, completely intellectual, completely active or completely meditative. Each yoga blends into the next; each yoga balances and strengthens the others.

The Path of Love

For those more emotional than intellectual, bhakti yoga is recommended. Bhakti yoga is the path of devotion, the method of attaining God through love and the loving recollection of God. Most religions emphasize this spiritual path because it is the most natural. As with other yogas, the goal of the bhakta, the devotee of God, is to attain God-realization-oneness with the Divine. The bhakta attains this through the force of love, that most powerful and irresistible of emotions.

Love is accessible to everyone: we all love someone or something, frequently with great intensity. Love makes us forget ourselves, our whole attention being devoted to the object of our adoration. The ego loosens its grip as we think of our beloved's welfare more than our own. Love gives us concentration: even against our will, we constantly remember the object of our love. In an easy and totally painless way, love creates the preconditions necessary for a fruitful spiritual life.

Vedanta therefore says, Don't squander the power of love. Use this powerful force for God-realization. We must remember that when we love another we are really responding-though unconsciously-to the divinity within him or her. As we read in the Upanishads, "It is not for the sake of the husband that the husband is dear, but for the sake of the Self. It is not for the sake of the wife that the wife is dear, but for the sake of the Self." Our love for others becomes unselfish and motiveless when we are able to encounter divinity in them.

Unfortunately, we usually misplace our love. We project our vision of what's true, perfect, and beautiful and superimpose it upon whomever or whatever we love. It is God alone, however, who is True, Perfect, and Beautiful. Vedanta therefore says: Put the emphasis back where it belongs-on the divine Self within each person that we encounter. That is the real object of our love.

Rather than obsessing on a limited human being, we should think of God with a longing heart. Many spiritual teachers have recommended adopting a particular devotional attitude towards God: thinking of God as our Master or Father or Mother or Friend or Child or Beloved. The determining factor here is, Which attitude feels the most natural to me and which attitude brings me closest to God?

Jesus looked upon God as his Father in Heaven. Ramakrishna worshipped God as Mother. Many great saints have attained perfection through worshipping God as the baby Jesus or the baby Krishna. Many have attained perfection through worshipping Christ as the bridegroom or Krishna as the beloved. Others have attained perfection through worshipping God as their master or friend.

The point to remember is that God is our own, the nearest of the nearest and dearest of the dearest. The more our minds are absorbed in thoughts of Him-or Her as the case may be-the closer we shall be to attaining the goal of human life, Godrealization.

Many people are drawn to worshipping God through love and devotion. Yet other spiritual aspirants are more motivated by reason than by love; for them, bhakti yoga is barking up the wrong spiritual tree. Those who are endowed with a powerful and discriminating intellect may be better suited for the path of jnana yoga, striving for perfection through the power of reason.

The Path of Knowledge

Jnana yoga is the yoga of knowledge-not knowledge in the intellectual sense-but the knowledge of Brahman and Atman and the realization of their unity. Where the devotee of God follows the promptings of the heart, the jnani uses the powers of the mind to discriminate between the real and the unreal, the permanent and the transitory.

Jnanis, followers of nondualistic or advaita Vedanta, can also be called monists for they affirm the sole reality of Brahman. Of course, all followers of Vedanta are monists: all Vedantins affirm the sole reality of Brahman. The distinction here is in spiritual practice: while all Vedantins are philosophically monistic, in practice those who are devotees of God prefer to think of God as distinct from themselves in order to enjoy the sweetness of a relationship. Jnanis, by contrast, know that all duality is ignorance. There is no need to look outside ourselves for divinity: we ourselves already are divine.

What is it that prevents us from knowing our real nature and the nature of the world around us? The veil of maya. Jnana yoga is the process of directly rending that veil, tearing it through a two-pronged approach.

The first part of the approach is negative, the process of neti, neti- not this, not this. Whatever is unreal-that is, impermanent, imperfect, subject to change-is rejected. The second part is positive: whatever is understood to be perfect, eternal, unchanging-is accepted as real in the highest sense.

Are we saying that the universe that we apprehend is unreal? Yes and no. In the absolute sense, it is unreal. The universe and our perception of it have only a conditional reality, not an ultimate one. To go back to our earlier reference to the rope and the snake: the rope, i.e., Brahman, is perceived to be the snake, i.e., the universe as we perceive it. While we are seeing the snake as a snake, it has a conditional reality. Our hearts palpitate as we react to our perception. When we see the "snake" for what it is, we laugh at our delusion.

Similarly, whatever we take in through our senses, our minds, our intellects, is inherently restricted by the very nature of our bodies and minds. Brahman is infinite; it cannot be restricted. Therefore this universe of change-of space, time, and causation-cannot be the infinite, all-pervading Brahman. Our minds are circumscribed by every possible condition; whatever the mind and intellect apprehend cannot be the infinite fullness of Brahman. Brahman must be beyond

what the normal mind can comprehend; as the Upanishads declare, Brahman is "beyond the reach of speech and mind."

Yet what we perceive can be no other than Brahman. Brahman is infinite, all-pervading, and eternal. There cannot be two infinites; what we see at all times can only be Brahman; any limitation is only our own misperception. Jnanis forcefully remove this misperception through the negative process of discrimination between the real and the unreal and through the positive approach of Self-affirmation.

In Self-affirmation we continually affirm what is real about ourselves: we are not limited to a small physical body; we are not limited by our individual minds. We are Spirit. We were never born; we will never die. We are pure, perfect, eternal and free. That is the greatest truth of our being.

The philosophy behind Self-affirmation is simple: as you think, so you become. We have programmed ourselves for thousands of lifetimes to think of ourselves as limited, puny, weak, and helpless. What a horrible, dreadful lie this is and how incredibly self- destructive! It is the worst poison we can ingest. If we think of ourselves as weak, we shall act accordingly. If we think of ourselves as helpless sinners, we will, without a doubt, act accordingly. If we think of ourselves as Spirit-pure, perfect, free-we will also act accordingly.

As we have drummed the wrong thoughts into our minds again and again to create the wrong impressions, so we must reverse the process by drumming into our brains the right thoughtsthoughts of purity, thoughts of strength, thoughts of truth. As the Ashtavakra Samhita, a classic Advaita text, declares: "I am spotless, tranquil, pure consciousness, and beyond nature. All this time I have been duped by illusion."

Jnana yoga uses our considerable mental powers to end the duping process, to know that we are even now-and have always been- free, perfect, infinite, and immortal. Realizing that, we will also recognize in others the same divinity, the same purity and perfection. No longer confined to the painful limitations of "I" and "mine," we will see the one Brahman everywhere and in everything.

The Path of Work

Karma yoga is the yoga of action or work; specifically, karma

yoga is the path of dedicated work: renouncing the results of our actions as a spiritual offering rather than hoarding the results for ourselves.

As we mentioned earlier, karma is both action and the result of action. What we experience today is the result of our karma-both good and bad-created by our previous actions. This chain of cause and effect that we ourselves have created can be snapped by karma yoga: fighting fire with fire, we use the sword of karma yoga to stop the chain reaction of cause and effect. By disengaging the ego from the work process, by offering the results up to a higher power-whether a personal God or to the Self within-we stop the whole snowballing process.

Whether we realize it or not, all of us perform actions all the time since even sitting and thinking is action. Since action is inevitable, an integral part of being alive, we need to reorient it into a path to Godrealization. As we read in the Bhagavad Gita, one of Hinduism's most sacred scriptures:

Whatever your action, Food or worship; Whatever the gift That you give to another; Whatever you vow To the work of the spirit ... Lay these also As offerings before Me.

All of us tend to work with expectations in mind: we work hard in our jobs to get respect and appreciation from our colleagues and promotions from the boss. We clean our yards and make them lovely with the hope that our neighbors will be appreciative if not downright envious. We work hard in school to get good grades, anticipating that this will bring us a fine future. We cook a_ splendid meal with the expectation that it will be received with plaudits and praise. We dress nicely in anticipation of someone's appreciation. So much of our lives is run simply in expectation of future results that we do it automatically, unconsciously.

This, however, is a perilous pattern. From a spiritual viewpoint, all these expectations and anticipations are Trojan horses that will bring us misery either sooner or later. Misery is inevitable because our expectations and desires are unending and unappeasable. We will live from disappointment to disappointment because our motivation is to gratify and enlarge the ego; instead of breaking the bonds of karma, we are forging fresh chains.

No matter whether we are devotional, intellectual or meditative by temperament, karma yoga can easily be practiced in tandem with the other spiritual paths. Even those who lead a predominantly meditative life benefit from karma yoga, for thoughts can produce bonds just as effectively as physical actions.

Just as devotees offer flowers and incense in their loving worship of God, so can actions and thoughts be offered as divine worship. Knowing that the Lord exists in the hearts of all creatures, devotees can and should worship God by serving all beings as his living manifestations. To paraphrase Jesus Christ: What we do for the least of our brothers and sisters, we do for the Lord himself.

"A yogi," says the Bhagavad Gita, "sees Me in all things, and all things within Me." The highest of all yogis, the Gita continues, is one "who burns with the bliss and suffers the sorrow of every creature" within his or her own heart.

Jnanis take a different but equally effective tack. They know that although the body or the mind performs action, in reality they do no work at all. In the midst of intense activity, they rest in the deep stillness of the Atman. Maintaining the attitude of a witness, jnanis continually remember that they are not the body, not the mind. They know the Atman is not subject to fatigue or anxiety or excitement; pure, perfect and free, the Atman has no struggle to engage in, no goal to attain.

The point of all the yogas is to spiritualize our entire life instead of compartmentalizing our days into "secular" and "spiritual" zones. Karma yoga is particularly effective at this since it won't allow us to use activity as an escape. By insisting that life itself can be holy, karma yoga gives us the tools of everyday life to cut our way to freedom. To quote again the Bhagavad Gita regarding karma yoga:

Thus you will free yourself from both the good and the evil effects of your actions. Offer up everything to Me. If your heart is united with Me, you will be set free from karma even in this life, and come to Me at the last.

The Path of Meditation

The final yoga, raja yoga, is the royal path of meditation. As a king maintains control over his kingdom, so can we maintain control

over our own "kingdom"-the vast territory of the mind. In raja yoga we use our mental powers to realize the Atman through the process of psychological control.

The basic premise of raja yoga is that our perception of the divine Self is obscured by the disturbances of the mind. If the mind can be made still and pure, the Self will automatically, instantaneously, shine forth. Says the Bhagavad Gita:

When, through the practice of yoga, the mind ceases its restless movements, and becomes still, the aspirant realizes the Atman.

If we can imagine a lake that is whipped by waves, fouled by pollution, muddied by tourists and made turbulent by speedboats, we'll get a fair assessment of the mind's usual state.

Should anyone doubt this assertion, let the intrepid soul try to sit quietly for a few minutes and meditate upon the Atman. What happens? A thousand different thoughts fly at us, all leading the mind outward. The fly buzzing around suddenly becomes very important. So does the thought of dinner. We now remember where we left the keys. The argument we had yesterday becomes even more vivid and powerful; so does the perfect retort that we've cleverly composed during our "meditation." The minute we stop thinking one thought, another jumps in with equal force. Were it not so dismaying, it would be funny.

Most of the time we remain unaware of the mind's erratic movements because we are habituated to giving our minds free reign: we've never seriously attempted to observe, let alone train the mind. Like parents whose indiscipline has created children that everyone dreads, our lack of mental discipline has created the turbulent, ill- behaved minds that have given us endless difficulty. Without psychological discipline, the mind becomes the mental equivalent of the house ape. And all of us, sadly enough, have suffered mental agony because of it.

While we may have grown accustomed to living with an uncontrolled mind, we should never assume that it's an acceptable, if not inevitable, state of affairs. Vedanta says that we can master the mind and, through repeated practice, we can make the mind our servant rather than being its victim. The mind, when trained, is our truest friend; when left untrained and reckless, it is an enemy that won't leave the premises.

Now, instead of the polluted lake we previously envisioned, think of a beautiful, clear lake. No waves, no pollution, no tourists, no speedboats. It's clear as glass: calm, quiet, tranquil. Looking down through the pure water, you can clearly see the bottom of the lake. The bottom of the lake, metaphorically speaking, is the Atman residing deep within our hearts. When the mind is pure and calm, the Self is no longer hidden from view. And, Vedanta says, that mind can be yours.

How? To again quote the Bhagavad Gita:

Patiently, little by little, spiritual aspirants must free themselves from all mental distractions, with the aid of the intelligent will. They must fix their minds upon the Atman, and never think of anything else. No matter where the restless and unquiet mind wanders, it must be drawn back and made to submit to the Atman alone.

The mind is cleansed and made tranquil through the repeated practice of meditation and through the practice of moral virtues [see page 41 for the discussion of yama and niyama-the moral virtues extolled in Vedanta].

Popular wisdom aside, there is no way to practice meditation without practicing moral virtues in tandem. To try to do otherwise is as effective as sailing the ocean with a leaky boat.

For such a Herculean task as realizing the Atman, all areas of the mind must be fully engaged. We cannot compartmentalize our life and assume that we can have both a "secular" area (in which we can live as we please) and a "spiritual" area. Just as we can't cross the ocean in a leaky boat, so we can't cross the ocean with two legs in two different boats. We must fully integrate all aspects of life and direct our energies towards the one great goal.

This doesn't mean that in order to realize God a person must totally renounce the world and live in a cave, monastery or convent. What it does mean is that all aspects of our life must be spiritualized so that they can be directed towards attaining the goal of God- realization.

Because raja yoga is the path of meditation, it is-when practiced exclusively-generally followed by those who lead contemplative lives. Most of us will never fall into that category. Raja yoga is, however, an

essential component of all other spiritual paths since meditation is involved in the loving recollection of God, mental discrimination, and is an essential balance to selfless action.

As for directions on how to meditate and what to meditate upon, such issues must be taken up directly with a qualified spiritual teacher. Meditation is an intensely personal matter; only a genuine spiritual teacher can accurately gauge the student's personal tendencies and direct the student's mind accordingly.

Further, spirituality is caught, not taught. A genuine spiritual teacher ignites the flame of spirituality in the student by the power of his or her own attainment: the student's candle is lit by the teacher's flame. Our candles cannot be lit by books any more than they can be lit by unqualified teachers who speak religion without living it. True spirituality is transmitted: only pure, unselfish teachers who have achieved some level of spiritual awakening can enliven our own dormant flame.

That said, some basic guidelines can be given: any concept of God-whether formless or with form-that appeals to us is helpful and good. We can think of God as being present either outside of ourselves or inside. Ramakrishna, however, recommended meditating upon God within, saying "the heart is a splendid place for meditation." Repetition of any name of God that appeals to us is good, so is repeating the holy syllable "Om." It's helpful to have a regular time for meditation in order to create a habit; it's also helpful to have a regular place for meditation that is quiet, clean, and tranquil.

SPIRITUAL BASICS

Ethical and Moral Virtues

Vedanta ethics and moral virtues are rooted in the ideal of realizing and manifesting our own innate divinity. Simply put, whatever brings us closer to that goal is ethical and moral; whatever prevents us from attaining it, is not.

Like a diamond buried in mud, the Atman shines within us, yet its presence remains obscured, its shining purity masked by countless layers of ignorance: wrong identification, incorrect knowledge, misguided perceptions. It is important to emphasize that we are not trying to become something other than what we already are. We are not trying to become pure; we are pure. We are not trying to become perfect; we are perfect already. That is our real nature. Acting in accordance with our real nature-acting nobly, truthfully, kindly-tears away the veil of ignorance that hides the truth of reality. Whatever distorts this reality is a perversion of the truth.

The whole of Vedanta ethics, then, is based upon a simple line of reasoning: Does this action or thought bring me closer to realizing the truth, or does it take me further away?

Taking the same question from another angle we can ask: What is it that prevents us from realizing the truth? The ego: the sense of "I" and "mine." As the great spiritual teacher Ramakrishna said, "The feeling of 'I' and 'mine' has covered the Reality so we don't see the truth." He further said, "When the ego dies, all troubles cease."

What does the ego have to do with ethics and morality? Absolutely everything. All moral codes are based upon the ideal of unselfishness: placing others before ourselves, forcing the ego to play second fiddle. Following selfish desires is always a detriment to our spiritual life. Whether the action or thought is great or small, any selfishness will make the veil of ignorance thicker and darker. Conversely, any act of unselfishness, however great or small, will have the opposite effect.

It is for this reason that doing good to others is a universal ethical and moral code, found in all religions and societies. Why is this so

universal? Because it reflects the truth that we instinctively intuit: the oneness of life.

Love, sympathy, and empathy are the affirmation of this truth; they are a reflexive response because they mirror the reality of the universe. When we feel love and sympathy we are verifying-albeit unconsciously-the oneness that already exists. When we feel hatred, anger, and jealousy we separate ourselves from others and deny our real nature which is infinite and free from limitations.

What is the root of the problem here? Our wrong identification: thinking of ourselves as minds and bodies rather than infinite Spirit. As Swami Vivekananda, Ramakrishna's great disciple, said: "As soon as I think that I am a little body, I want to preserve it, to protect it, to keep it nice, at the expense of other bodies; then you and I become separate. As soon as this idea of separation comes, it opens the door to all mischief and leads to all misery."

The Point of Moral Virtues

All the moral virtues taught by Vedanta serve to remind us of our real nature, and no spiritual progress can be made without following them. Any attempt to do so would be like trying to build a house without a foundation. Before we even begin to think about how to realize the ultimate truth, we first need to build the groundwork of a real life, one based on real values.

Spiritual life is not a haphazard affair: it is the most serious task that we shall ever face. And it is absolutely impossible to do so without living an ethical, moral life. It simply does not work.

If Vedanta lays such stress on an ethical life, what, then, are the virtues we emphasize? Patanjali, one of the ancient sages of India and the father of its psychology, formulated standards of moral conduct which have been followed for thousands of years.

Before going into the specifics, we should first mention that these precepts function as spiritual tools, tools that can be used to create spiritually beneficial habits. These tools aren't goals that can be instantly achieved-they are ideals to strive for, patterns to emulate. Still, it's good to remember that when we do use these tools, we grow in strength and move closer to our ideal.

Patanjali divided the moral precepts into two categories, yama

and niyama, each category consisting of five precepts:

Moral Principles: Yama

Yama consists of nonviolence, truthfulness, nonstealing, chastity or celibacy, and the nonreceiving of gifts. Niyama consists of cleanliness, contentment, austerity, study, and self-surrender to God.

While many of these disciplines seem self-evident, some of them need further explanation. Serious spiritual aspirants, Swami Vivekananda said, "must not think of injuring anyone, by thought, word, or deed. Mercy shall not be for human beings alone, but shall go beyond, and embrace the whole world."

Truthfulness not only means speaking truthfully but also adhering to the truth in thought, word, and deed. Ramakrishna said that "making the heart and lips one" was the spiritual discipline of our age.

Nonstealing also means noncovetous- ness: it means not desiring things that belong to others and not appropriating what belongs to others. Even using someone else's words or ideas and presenting them as our own without acknowledging their source is a kind of stealing.

Chastity or celibacy is stressed for two reasons: First, serious spiritual seekers need to conserve the energy generally directed to sex and to redirect it to Self realization. Second, physical or mental sexual activity reinforces our idea of ourselves as bodies and not as Spirit. If we want to progress in spiritual life, we need to regard other people as human beingsas manifestations of God-and not as male and female bodies.

We should add here that Vedanta is meant for all people-not simply those with monastic inclinations. Vedanta acknowledges that sexual desire is, at its core, longing for union with God. While strict celibacy is stressed for monastics, Vedanta advocates sexual responsibility and self-control for nonmonastics. For nonmonastics, chastity means fidelity to one's spouse. Further, when approached in the right spirit, marriage is a sacred spiritual path. One's spouse is also one's spiritual partner and should be looked upon as a manifestation of divinity.

The ethical virtues listed above may seem fairly reasonable, but what's the problem with accepting gifts? We can see from this guideline how carefully the ancient Hindu sages watched the workings

of the mind. Accepting gifts from others makes us feel obligated: we can become manipulated through them and lose our independence. Sometimes gifts are really bribes in disguise: if we feel even vaguely indebted to the giver, our minds become tainted. Sometimes the effect is obvious, sometimes it is subtle; but it is there nonetheless. For this reason we should accept no gift unless it is given with no motive except pure love. Otherwise we'll be like puppets who jump whenever the invisible strings are pulled.

Moral Principles: Niyama

Cleanliness is the first virtue of niyama. It means not only physical cleanliness but also mental and moral cleanliness. When our minds are jealous, suspicious, rancorous or just plain mean, our minds are "dirty." We can take all the baths in the world but we still are failing in cleanliness if our minds are polluted. Cheerfulness is an essential component of mental cleanliness.

Contentment is tied to mental cleanliness because a dissatisfied mind is a turbulent, unhappy mind. We should be content with our present condition, and move forward. Contentment doesn't mean laziness: it doesn't mean that we should be satisfied with our current state of spiritual progress. We should have divine discontent but at the same time be satisfied with the externals that we are presented with.

The word "austerity" generally makes people shudder. They shouldn't though, because we all practice austerities all the time; we simply don't use the word. No great endeavor can succeed without austerity: a student must study hard in order to get good grades, a parent must sometimes give up sleep in order to care for a sick child. Our jobs demand hard work and long hours.

Spiritual austerity is much sweeter than all these put together, for the goal to be attained is the highest. Austerity in Vedanta means disciplining the body and mind in order to put them at our disposal for the realization of God. It also means keeping an even keel in the tempests of life.

Life generally presents us with what Vedanta calls "the pairs of opposites": praise and blame, health and sickness, prosperity and penury, joy and misery. We cannot get one without eventually getting the other; they are two sides of the same coin. Keeping our mental poise in the midst of all of these is true austerity: neither being elated

by praise nor depressed by criticism, neither being haughty in prosperity nor dejected in poverty. Evenness of mind under all conditions is genuine austerity, for the ego is given no opportunity to come into play.

Study-which comprises not only the study of sacred literature but also the repetition of a mantra or name of God-is vital for spiritual aspirants. Firm regularity in practice is also included in the discipline of study.

While routine might seem counterproductive to spiritual development, it is, in fact, crucial. The force of a regular habit of spiritual study insures that-like it or not, tired or not, interested or not-we will doggedly pursue our highest ideals. The nature of the mind is fickle: sometimes it's in a good mood, sometimes it's not. Sometimes it's energetic, sometimes it's lazy. We can't allow our spiritual life to become subject to the mind's whims. A regular habit of study creates a favorable mental atmosphere: at the appointed time the mind will naturally become quiet since it has been trained by repeated habit to react that way.

As we can see, the guidelines for spiritual aspirants are serious and demanding. We should remember, however, that no one is imposing these disciplines upon us. We are choosing to follow them and we are doing so because we desire our own freedom. No one is cracking a whip over us; no God is writing our failures in a ledger. Even failing in the attempt to follow these disciplines has benefit because at least we are trying to develop spiritual strength; trying and failing is infinitely better than not trying at all. Every failure is a steppingstone on the path to spiritual perfection.

GOD IN HUMAN FORM

The Concept of the Avatar

Swami Shivananda, one of Ramakrishna's disciples, said: "If God does not come down as a human being, how will human beings love him? That is why He comes to human beings as a human being. People can love Him as a father, mother, brother, friend-they can take any of these attitudes. And He comes to each in whatever form that person loves."

Throughout the ages, spiritual renewal has come to humanity through God manifesting in human form. The Sanskrit word "avatar" literally means "descent of God." Most of the world's religions have been given impetus and direction by these spiritual giants-the incarnations, prophets, and messengers of God. Jesus and Buddha, Rama and Krishna, Moses and Muhammad, Chaitanya and Ramakrishna-all have been torchbearers in the world of spirituality, pouring new energy into religions that were sliding into hypocrisy and self-indulgence.

The Bhagavad Gita declared thousands of years ago:

When goodness grows weak, When evil increases, I make myself a body. In every age I come back To deliver the holy, To destroy the sin of the sinner, To establish righteousness.

One of the great distinctions between Western and Eastern thought is that the West tends to think in terms of linear time-the world and human history having a definitive beginning, middle, and end. On this horizontal time line, God has specific, historical interventions. In contrast, the East thinks in terms of great cycles: ascension and descension, creation and destruction, growth and decay; these cycles are seen as continually repeating waves in an eternal cosmic process. Civilizations, religions, and individuals are all part of this ongoing cycle. The appearance of the avatar is essential to this eternal movement of spiritual decline followed by regeneration.

According to Vedanta, spiritual truth is eternal and universal: no

particular religion or sect can have a monopoly on it. The truth that Christ discovered is the same truth that was revealed to the sages of the Upanishads; it is the same truth that Krishna and Buddha taught as well. Gautama said that there were many Buddhas before him, and in the years to come there will be many more manifestations of God on earth.

Is there a purpose in all this? Yes. First, every avatar has a specific message to impart to humanity: Muhammad taught equality and the brotherhood of humanity; Christ revealed the primacy of God's love over the letter of the Law; Buddha rejected priestcraft and taught people to be lamps unto themselves; Krishna taught mental equanimity and detached action; Ramakrishna taught the ideal of the harmony of religions. Each incarnation has a message particular to the age in which he appears.

The second reason why the avatar incarnates is to reestablish the one eternal religion-spiritual truth. While every avatar has specific teachings, all incarnations come to pour spiritual fire into a world sinking into religious mediocrity. No matter where the avatar appears on earth, the entire world is uplifted and regenerated by his advent.

Does this mean that, according to Vedanta, God can be realized only through his personal aspect? No. Does this mean that Vedanta says that we must think of God as a person? No.

What Vedanta says is that God can and does manifest through human form, and that, for most people, it is easier to meditate upon and love a God with form rather than a nebulous idea of infinite being, consciousness, and bliss. This, however, is a matter of temperament. Many people achieve spiritual growth through meditation upon the avatar; they are followers of the path of bhakti yoga. Yet for others this is entirely the wrong approach: those who are more intellectual than emotional may well achieve greater spiritual awareness through jnana yoga.

THE HARMONY OF RELIGIONS

"Truth is One; Sages Call It by Various Names"

"Truth is one; sages call it by various names," the Rig Veda, one of Vedanta's most ancient texts, declared thousands of years ago.

We are all seeking the truth, Vedanta asserts, and that truth comes in numerous names and forms. Truth-spiritual reality-remains the truth though it appears in different guises and approaches us from various directions. "Whatever path people travel is My path," says the Bhagavad Gita. "No matter where they walk, it leads to Me."

If all religions are true, then what is all the fighting about?

Politics, mostly, and the distortions that cultures and limited human minds superimpose upon spiritual reality. What is generally considered "religion" is a mixture of essentials and nonessentials; as Ramakrishna said, all scriptures contain a mixture of sand and sugar. We need to take out the sugar and leave the sand behind: we should extract the essence of religion-whether we call it union with God or Self-realization-and leave the rest behind. Whatever helps us to manifest our divinity we embrace; whatever pulls us away from that ideal, we avoid.

The carnage inflicted upon the world in the name of religion has precious little to do with genuine religion. People fight over doctrine and dogma: we don't see people being murdered over attaining divine union! A "religious war" is really large-scale egotism gone berserk. As Swami Prabhavananda, the founder of the Vedanta Society of Southern California, would smilingly say, "If you put Jesus, Buddha, and Muhammad in the same room together, they will embrace each other. If you put their followers together, they may kill each other!"

Truth is one, but it comes filtered through the limited human mind. That mind lives in a particular culture, has its own experience of the world and lives at a particular point in history. The infinite

Reality is thus processed through the limitations of space, time, causation, and is further processed through the confines of human understanding and language. Manifestations of truth-scriptures, sages, and prophets-will necessarily vary from age to age and from culture to culture. Light, when put through a prism, appears in various colors when observed from different angles. But the light always remains the same pure light. The same is true with spiritual truth.

This is not to say that all religions are "really pretty much the same." That is an affront to the distinct beauty and individual greatness of each of the world's spiritual traditions. Saying that every religion is equally true and authentic doesn't mean that one can be substituted for the other like generic brands of aspirin.

Every Religion Has a Gift

Every religion has a specific gift to offer humankind; every religion brings with it a unique viewpoint which enriches the world. Christianity stresses love and sacrifice; Judaism, the value of spiritual wisdom and tradition. Islam emphasizes universal brotherhood and equality while Buddhism advocates compassion and mindfulness. The Native American tradition teaches reverence for the earth and the natural world surrounding us. Vedanta or the Hindu tradition stresses the oneness of existence and the need for direct mystical experience.

The world's spiritual traditions are like different pieces in a giant jigsaw puzzle: each piece is different and each piece is essential to complete the whole picture. Each piece is to be honored and respected while holding firm to our own particular piece of the puzzle. We can deepen our own spirituality and learn about our own tradition by studying other faiths. Just as importantly, by studying our own tradition well, we are better able to appreciate the truth in other traditions.

Deepening in Our Path

Just as we honor the various world religions and respect their adherents, we must grow and deepen in our own particular spiritual path-whatever it may be. We shouldn't dabble in a little bit of Buddhism and a little bit of Islam and a little bit of Christianity and then try a new combo plate the following week. Spiritual practice is not a smorgasbord. If we throw five varieties of desserts into a food processor, we'll just get one unpalatable mess.

While Vedanta emphasizes the harmony of religions, it also stresses the necessity of diving deep into the spiritual tradition of our choice, sticking with it, and working hard. To paraphrase Ramakrishna, If you want to dig a well, you have to choose your location and keep digging until you reach water. It doesn't do any good to dig a bunch of shallow holes.

While a shallow spiritual life is probably better than no spiritual life at all, it nevertheless doesn't take us where we want to go: to freedom, to God-realization. Once we choose which spiritual path we wish to follow, we should doggedly pursue it until we reach the goal. The point is, we can do this while not only valuing other traditions, but also learning from them.

Vedanta says that all religions contain within themselves the same essential truths, although the packaging is different. And that is good. Every human being on the planet is unique. Not one of us really practices the same religion. Every person's mind is different and every person needs his or her own unique path to reach the top of the mountain. Some paths are narrow, some are broad. Some are winding and difficult and some are safe and dull. Eventually we'll all get to the top of the mountain; we don't have to worry about our neighbors getting lost along the way. They'll do just fine. We all need different approaches to fit our different natures.

Despite external variations in the world religions, the internals are more alike than not. Every religion teaches similar moral and ethical virtues; all religions teach the importance of spiritual striving and the necessity of honoring our fellow human beings as part of that striving.

"As different streams having their sources in different places all mingle their water in the sea," says an ancient Sanskrit prayer, "so, 0 Lord, the different paths which people take through different tendencies, various though they appear, crooked or straight, all lead to Thee."

THE ONENESS OF EXISTENCE

Unity in Diversity

The unity of existence is one of the great themes of Vedanta and an essential pillar of its philosophy. Unity is the song of life, it is the grand theme underlying the rich variations that exist throughout the cosmos. Whatever we see, whatever we experience, is only a manifestation of this eternal oneness. The divinity at the core of our being is the same divinity that illumines the sun, the moon, and the stars. There is no place where we, infinite in nature, do not exist.

While the concept of oneness may be intellectually appealing, it is nevertheless difficult to put into practice. It's no hardship to feel oneness with great and noble beings or those we already love. It's also not too much of a stretch to experience a sense of unity with the trees, the ocean, and the sky. But most of us balk at experiencing oneness with the cockroach or the rat-let alone the obnoxious co-worker whom we barely tolerate. Yet this is precisely where we need to apply Vedanta's teachings and realize that all these manifold aspects of creation are united in and through divinity. The Self that is within me, the Atman, is the same Self that is within you-no matter whether the "you" in question is a saint, a murderer, a cat, a fly, a tree, or that irritating driver at the four-way stop.

"The Self is everywhere," says the Isha Upanishad. "Whoever sees all beings in the Self, and the Self in all beings, hates none. For one who sees everywhere oneness, how can there be delusion or grief?"

All fear and all misery arise from our sense of separation from the great cosmic unity, the web of being that enfolds us. "There is fear from the second," says the Brihadaranyaka Upanishad. Duality, our sense of separation from the rest of creation, is always a misperception since it implies that something exists other than God. There can be no other. "This grand preaching, the oneness of things, making us one with everything that exists, is the great lesson to learn," said Swami Vivekananda a century ago.

.... The Self is the essence of this universe, the essence of all souls ... You are one with this universe. He who says he is different from others, even by a hair's breadth, immediately becomes miserable. Happiness belongs to him who knows this oneness, who knows he is one with this universe.

REVITALIZATION OF AN ANCIENT PHILOSOPHY

Ramakrishna, the Ramakrishna Order, and the Vedanta Societies

As with other ancient spiritual traditions, Vedanta's vitality has been periodically renewed by great souls who infused new life into the old forms.

In nineteenth-century India, Ramakrishna revivified a tradition that was sinking under the dual burden of lifeless Hindu piety and the onslaught of English-imported Westernization. It was not a happy time for India. Neither was it a happy time for the West. Science and religion were at daggers drawn: a truce, let alone common understanding, seemed inconceivable. Rapid industrialization made human life seem cheap; the oncecherished bonds that had held people and society together were irretrievably frayed. During this time the East/West barrier became porous-a difficult adjustment for both parties. This best of times, worst of times scenario ushered in modernity with all its glory and confusion.

Ramakrishna, born in 1836 in a tiny Bengal village, would appear the least likely person to lead a modern spiritual movement. If Ramakrishna seemed emblematic of anything, it was of the ancient Hindu world which had existed since time immemorial. Frequently lost to the world in religious ecstasy, to all appearances he was the paradigm of the otherworldly yogi. But he was much more.

Even as a spirited child-full of mischief and joy-Ramakrishna possessed a deeply spiritual nature. As he grew older the question of God's reality impinged more and more upon his mind: "Does God really exist? If so, how can I realize him?" When his brother moved outside Calcutta to become a priest in a temple devoted to Kali, the Divine Mother of the universe, Ramakrishna accompanied him. Soon Ramakrishna himself became Mother Kali's worshipper, his whole life revolving around his overwhelming desire to have her vision.

Ravllakrislini

The intensity of his spiritual longing bore fruit: blessed with her vision, he lived day and night in communion with the Divine Mother.

But Ramakrishna wasn't satisfied with only one aspect of God. Having experienced oneness with God in her aspect as the Divine Mother, Ramakrishna sought more spiritual experiences. He became totally immersed in worshipping God in other forms, such as the incarnations of Rama and Krishna, pursuing each path until he attained divine union. Still he wasn't satisfied: he wanted further experiences of God's infinite nature.

Ramakrishna then followed the strict path of advaita (nondualistic) Vedanta and within a short time attained the highest state of mystical union with the impersonal Brahman.

After following the various spiritual traditions within Hinduism, Ramakrishna then practiced Islam. For a Hindu brahmin in nineteenth-century India to follow Muslim spiritual practices-going so far as to wear clothes in the Muslim fashion and requesting Muslim- style food-was inconceivable. Unthinkable. But Ramakrishna did it naturally and sincerely. He didn't do it to promote a cause or to satisfy some vague curiosity; God was so much the source of his life that he was compelled to experience him in every way possible. "Cake tastes nice," he would say, "whichever way you eat it." And Ramakrishna attained the highest spiritual realization by adhering to the path of Islam.

Were that not enough to traumatize those around him, Ramakrishna then fixed his sights on Christianity. As with Islam, Ramakrishna turned completely away from his Hindu background and for a brief time followed only Christian religious observances. Wholeheartedly embracing the Christian path, Ramakrishna experienced mystical union with Christ. With this, his spiritual quest was now complete.

Ramakrishna's spiritual realizations had convinced him-from his own hardwon experience-that all religions were true; all religions, when followed sincerely, would lead a yearning soul to Godrealization.

Ramakrishna encouraged those who came to him to pursue their own spiritual path with faith and determination. Although highly

revered as a spiritual teacher, he never preached himself-if anyone referred to him as a guru he would react with horror. He taught no doctrine or dogma and he condemned none. "God is infinite," Ramakrishna would say, "and infinite are the ways to reach him."

Ramakrishna's primary concern was that every individual achieve his or her own highest spiritual growth. "The important thing," he said, "is somehow to cultivate devotion to God and love for him .... It is enough to cultivate love for God by following any of the paths. When you have this love, you are sure to attain God."

Because of the intensity of Ramakrishna's spiritual yearning, his family feared for his mental health. Marriage, they thought, would settle him down. Ramakrishna's family had anticipated his summary rejection of the idea; instead, he readily agreed. In fact, he even suggested where they could find the bride and in which house.

So it was that Ramakrishna, age twenty-three, married Sarada Devi, a child of five. Right off the bat we need to say that child marriage in India was then the standard custom, and "marriage" in such instances simply meant betrothal.

When she was seventeen, Sarada left her village home to join Ramakrishna. Even though he was completely absorbed in spiritual practices, Ramakrishna greeted her with joyful warmth and respect. He didn't seem the slightest bit surprised at her sudden arrival.

Ramakrishna immediately began training Sarada, not only in spiritual practices, but also in practical matters as well: how to store household items, how to trim candlewicks, how to assess people's characters. No detail was either too large or too small: yogi that he was, Ramakrishna knew that carelessness in any area showed an uncontrolled mind. And a mind uncontrolled in domestic chores would be uncontrolled in meditation also.

The relationship between Ramakrishna and Sarada was unique and profound. Their marriage was never consummated because neither of them related to people as female or male bodies. Both were so highly spiritually evolved that they literally saw divinity in all beings. Divine union was so utterly fulfilling for both Ramakrishna and Sarada that the idea of physical union was unimaginable.

Ramakrishna viewed his young wife as the embodiment of the Divine Mother, the bestower of wisdom. He put his beliefs literally into practice when he performed a worship in which he offered both

himself and all the fruits of his many austerities at her feet. During that worship, in deep meditation, both worshipper and worshipped attained the highest state of mystical union with God; Sarada became the heir of Ramakrishna's spiritual wealth.

Saracia Devi

The role of women in Ramakrishna's life is so significant that it bears special mention. Ramakrishna's first guru, the Bhairavi Brahmani, was a woman. Years later, Ramakrishna himself had prominent women disciples. Ramakrishna's chosen ideal of God was Kali, the Divine Mother of the universe. No matter which spiritual discipline Ramakrishna followed, in the end he always returned to the attitude of God he particularly cherished, God as Mother.

Sarada Devi was not only his wife and disciple, but also his spiritual partner and successor. Before his death, Ramakrishna exhorted her to impart spirituality to those who came to her. Modest and shy, she objected, but Ramakrishna was adamant. After his death, Sarada became a spiritual teacher in her own right, giving spiritual guidance to thousands of people. Indeed, Sarada-who lived until 1920- had many more disciples than did Ramakrishna.

If Ramakrishna seemed an unlikely candidate to head a spiritual movement, Sarada appeared even less likely. Extraordinarily self- effacing, Sarada resembled more an uneducated village woman than a spiritual leader. But, as we all know, looks can be deceiving.

Sarada lived religion to a degree rarely seen in the history of spirituality. While Ramakrishna's spiritual austerities were visible for all to see, Sarada's were as hushed and unobserved as her own life.

Her life was one of perfect balance: she followed rigorous spiritual disciplines while engaging in strenuous household work; living as a nun, she remained a devoted wife. Through it all she remained poised in the highest state of divine communion. Yet so determined was she to hide her light beneath a bushel that only the most advanced spiritual souls could catch a glimpse of her tremendous spiritual attainments.

Perhaps Sarada's most outstanding characteristic was her motherliness. She literally viewed herself as the mother of all-even a Muslim criminal, even the reviled British, even a cat. No one was outside the reach of her all-embracing love. For that reason she became endearingly known as Holy Mother. She rejoiced in the happiness of others and wept with them in their sorrows. All who came to Holy Mother felt that she was their very own.

Practical and liberal in daily matters, Holy Mother was equally so

in imparting spirituality. She accepted all who came to her. Swami Premananda, one of Ramakrishna's disciples, said that she could "digest the poison" that no one else could absorb. That is, where other spiritual teachers accepted only promising disciples, Holy Mother accepted those whom other teachers would shun.

Despite the great reverence accorded her, Holy Mother maintained the appearance of a simple, unassuming woman. If anyone tried to put her on a pedestal, she would say that she knew nothing; she was only repeating what she had heard from Ramakrishna. She purposely hid her spiritual power: if those who approached her felt awe and fear, she said, then they could not feel close to her.

Yet for all her unassuming ways, her teachings embodied the highest Vedanta philosophy. Her final teaching to the world exemplifies this: Not long before her death Holy Mother told a disciple, "If you want to find peace of mind, don't find fault with others. Rather see your own faults. Learn to make the whole world your own. No one is a stranger, my child; the whole world is your own." No jnana yogi could have said it better.

Holy Mother wasn't the only one to continue Ramakrishna's teachings. Several years before his death, Ramakrishna gathered around him a band of young men. Pure, bold, and committed, they were willing to sacrifice everything for the sake of God-realization. After Ramakrishna's death in 1886, these young men joined together under the direction of Ramakrishna's foremost disciple, Swami Vivekananda, and the Ramakrishna Order was founded.

If Ramakrishna appeared to be the embodiment of ancient Indian spiritual traditions, Vivekananda embodied the values and conflicts of the emerging twentieth century. Having digested and absorbed a Western education, Vivekananda was a religious skeptic with a Western veneer. Devouring the writings of Kant, Schopenhauer, and John Stuart Mill, Vivekananda dismissed the larger portion of his Hindu heritage as childish superstition. Brilliant, fiery, fiercely independent, Vivekananda had absolutely no use for dogma or authority. He would accept nothing by virtue of its antiquity or venerability.

A friend brought a doubting Vivekananda to a rapt Ramakrishna. Vivekananda had never seen anyone completely absorbed in God; both fascinated and dismayed, he found Ramakrishna sincere in his radiant holiness. But since he couldn't fit Ramakrishna's religious

ecstasy into one of his rational cubbyholes, he decided that Ramakrishna must be a "monomaniac"-though no doubt a man of towering sanctity.

Vivekananda just needed more time to figure him out. He couldn't stay away.

As time passed, Vivekananda became convinced that this "monomaniac" was one of the few sane people he had ever encountered. Unlike most people who compromise ideals for expediency, Ramakrishna was incapable of the least discrepancy between belief and action. "We see many persons talking the most wonderfully fine things about charity and about equality and the rights of other people," Vivekananda later wrote, " ... but it is only in theory. I was so fortunate as to find one who was able to carry theory into practice. He had the most wonderful faculty of carrying everything into practice which he thought was right."

Further, the more time passed, the more Vivekananda became convinced of the validity of the ancient traditions Ramakrishna embodied. It wasn't an easy ride, though: Vivekananda challenged the process every step of the way.

When Ramakrishna began to teach Vivekananda advaita Vedanta, his initial reaction was one of scorn. The idea of God as an all- pervading existence seemed the height of nonsense: "I am God, you are God, these created things are God-what can be more absurd than this!" Amused (and secretly pleased), Ramakrishna would calmly continue teaching the unity of existence and the identity of the Atman with Brahman.

Swami Vivckananda

One day Ramakrishna overheard Vivekananda joking about this improbable philosophy: "This jug is God, this cup is God and we too are God." Ramakrishna finished the volley by simply touching Vivekananda on the chest. So much for the joke. The world never

looked the same to him again. "The magic touch," Vivekananda later recalled,

... immediately brought a wonderful change over my mind. I was astounded to find that really there was nothing in the universe but God! ... When I became normal again, I realized that I must have had a glimpse of the Advaita state. Then it struck me that the words of the scriptures were not false. Thenceforth I could not deny the conclusions of the Advaita philosophy.

After that profound experience-the first of many which were to followVivekananda could never again doubt that Brahman was the sole underlying truth of existence. The experience of nonduality not only changed Vivekananda's personal philosophy, it also became the future backbone of the Ramakrishna Order's philosophy of social service.

To clarify this, we need to mention another incident in Vivekananda's apprenticeship under Ramakrishna. It began, innocently enough, with a conversation about Vaishnavism, a sect of Hinduism. One of the tenets of Vaishnavism, Ramakrishna said to a group of disciples, is that one should practice compassion for all living creatures.

Sounds fine. No one should have a problem with that. Except that Ramakrishna wanted to make a point: In a rapturous mood he muttered to himself, "Compassion to creatures! Compassion to creatures! You fool! An insignificant worm crawling on the earth, you to show compassion to others! Who are you to show compassion ?... It is not compassion for others, but rather service to people, recognizing them to be the veritable manifestations of God."

Vivekananda was stunned. His mind on fire, he got up, left the room, and exclaimed to those present, "What a strange light have I discovered in these words!" Ramakrishna had shown, he said, that Vedanta was to be practiced in one's daily life-not in caves, not by hiding away from the world. Ramakrishna had pointed out that it was God alone who had manifested both as the world and as its living beings.

The conclusion Vivekananda drew from this exchange was that one should therefore serve all beings, knowing them to be

manifestations of God. Of crucial importance, this service was genuine spiritual practice; it was not social service as social service. It was to be regarded as genuine worship of God. When performed as worship, service to humanity would bring a person to the very door of God- realization, Vivekananda said. In his parting shot to his listeners, Vivekananda said that were it God's will, he would proclaim these truths to the world.

Which is precisely what he did when he and his brother-disciples formed the Ramakrishna Order.

The Ramakrishna Order

Had Vivekananda merely desired Self-realization, he could have fled to the Himalayas and found a nice cave. But that is not what Ramakrishna had trained him for: he was to spearhead a spiritual movement that would eventually change the world. To create a movement an organization was essential. The organization's ideal would be not only God-realization but also service to humankind as God's living manifestation.

The motto that Vivekananda gave the Ramakrishna Order is: "For one's own spiritual realization and for the good of the world." The two themes are integrally connected: We cannot do real good to the world unless we approach it from a spiritual perspective. Of equal importance, our spiritual life is enriched and strengthened by seeing and serving God in all his manifold forms that we encounter every day. With one hand we strive for God-realization, with the other hand we serve all beings as the very God we are struggling to attain.

Until Vivekananda took the cue from Ramakrishna, this spiritual ideal of service had never before been formulated. This ideal is the bedrock of the Ramakrishna Order and is its unique contribution to world spirituality.

While those of us in the West take religious social service for granted, it was not the case in India. Those who pursued God or Self- realization were expected to shun the world; after all, the world was only maya and any involvement in it would spell spiritual doom for the serious spiritual aspirant. Swami Vivekananda and the Ramakrishna Order turned this notion on its ancient head.

When the Ramakrishna Order first began doing social service in the late nineteenth century, its monks were derisively called

"scavenger monks" since they cared for the diseased and dying. Orthodox monks would not so much as eat in the presence of these maverick Ramakrishna Order monks who gave even physical, not just spiritual, succor. Moreover, the monks offered their service equally to all-no matter whether the recipient was a Hindu, Muslim or Christian. The criterion of service wasand still is-to give to those in greatest need regardless of religion, race, class or caste.

A century later, the picture is reversed: The "scavenger monks" are now respected for the work they do in providing sanitation facilities and wells; they are honored for their efforts in training villagers to develop cottage industries to provide selfsufficiency. And, satisfyingly, other Indian monastic organizations are now taking up similar projects. For one hundred years the Ramakrishna Order has fed, clothed, and housed the destitute, assuaging the misery of those devastated by famine, flood, earthquake, and social unrest.

The Ramakrishna Order maintains multi-storied hospitals, village dispensaries, mobile dispensaries (vans equipped with physicians and medical equipment for those unable to reach regular medical facilities), tuberculosis clinics, eye clinics, maternity hospitals, homeopathic dispensaries, dental clinics, homes for the aged, and orphanages.

It also maintains educational institutions of all categories throughout India. From village primary schools to colleges, from adult education centers to technical and trade schools, from foreign- language schools to schools for the blind, the extent of the Ramakrishna Order's educational activity as well as its high standard of scholarship have received wide acclaim both in India and abroad.

But how did Vedanta end up in the West?

Vedanta in the West

In 1893 Swami Vivekananda represented Hinduism at the World's Parliament of Religions in Chicago. His presentations at the Parliament were enormously successful and after the event was over, he was invited to speak throughout the country on Vedanta philosophy. Lecturing from one end of the country to the other, making many friends and disciples along the way, Vivekananda lived and worked in America for nearly four years under what were sometimes very trying circumstances. But he bore it all in good humor, convinced that Vedanta's message was vastly more important

than his personal well-being. (No mean feat considering that cowboys shot at him, hotels refused him, editorials denounced him and someone even poisoned his coffee.)

Vivekananda's labors brought today's Vedanta Societies, which are the Western branches of the Ramakrishna Order, into existence. The first Vedanta Society was established in New York in 1894, others have been gradually cropping up ever since. There are now Vedanta Societies throughout the United States as well as in Canada, Europe, Russia, Japan, South America, and Africa.

When local citizens in a particular country decide that they want to learn more about Vedanta, they request a Swami (i.e., a monk who's taken final monastic vows) to be sent from the Order's headquarters in India.

Each Vedanta Society is under the spiritual guidance of the Ramakrishna Order of India, but each Vedanta Society is an independent, self-sufficient unit. Almost all Vedanta Societies have their own board of trustees, created from local citizens.

Obviously, the nature of the work in India is different from the work in the West. But the ideals and the goals are exactly the same. While many of the Vedanta Societies perform some social service- feeding the homeless, volunteering in soup kitchens and hospitals, etc .- it is on a small scale. While this kind of social service is valued, it is not the Vedanta Societies' primary emphasis. In the West the work is mostly pastoral since the poverty we experience here is, for the most part, spiritual.

As with India, the Western focus is centered on those needs which are the most keenly felt. In North America, this means that the focus of service is alleviating the hunger of the soul and quenching the thirst for a meaningful existence.

For over a century Vedanta has lived in the West; its roots here are deep and firm. Vedanta's message in the West is the same as in the East: the divinity of the soul, the oneness of existence, the importance of manifesting our divinity in daily life, and recognizing and serving that divinity in others.

For more information on Vedanta please visit our web site:

www.vedanta.org

Literature on Vedanta available at www.vedanta.com

Suggestions for Further Reading

The Song of God: Bhagavad Gita, trans. Swami Prabhavananda and Christopher Isherwood. New York: Mentor Books, 1972.

Living Wisdom: Vedanta in the West, ed. Pravrajika Vrajaprana. Hollywood: Vedanta Press, 1994.

Living at the Source: The Yoga Teachings of Swami Vivekananda, ed. Ann Myren and Dorothy Madison. Boston: Shambhala, 1993.

Vivekananda: The Yogas and Other Works, ed. Swami Nikhilananda. New York: Ramakrishna-Vivekananda Center, 1996.

How to Know God: The Yoga Aphorisms of Patanjali, trans. Swami Prabhavananda and Christopher Isherwood. Hollywood: Vedanta Press, 1981.

Seeing God Everywhere: A Practical Guide to Spiritual Living, Swami Shraddhananda. Hollywood: Vedanta Press, 1996.

The Upanishads: Breath of the Eternal, trans. Swami Prabhavananda and Frederick Manchester. New York: Mentor Books, 1975.

Ramakrishna and His Disciples, Christopher Isherwood. Hollywood: Vedanta Press, 1965.

The Gospel of Sri Ramakrishna, trans. Swami Nikhilananda. New York: RamakrishnaVivekananda Center, 1992.

Holy Mother, Swami Nikhilananda. New York: Ramakrishna- Vivekananda Center, 1982.

Shankara's Crest-Jewel of Discrimination: The Viveka-Chudamani, trans. Swami Prabhavananda and Christopher Isherwood. Hollywood: Vedanta Press, 1978.

VEDANTA